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He slid into the driver's seat without comment and threw the car into a sharp reverse turn. As he roared away from the burning house, he felt Dani's eyes on him. She held her baby close to her breast, shielding his head protectively with her hand. "Malcolm, what have you done?"
"The only thing that could be done." He kept his focus on the dark road ahead, knowing they had to get where they were going before the fireworks brought all of Conlan's clan out to see what had occurred.
"Where are you taking us? Why don't you want Con's family to know what happened back there?"
He felt her ability prodding into his skull. He scoffed a rough curse and slanted a sharp look on her. "Stay out of my head, lass. Leave my damned thoughts alone."
"They're going to worry about me. I need to let them know that Connor and I are all right-"
"You'll do no such thing." His voice grated out of him, harsher than he intended. "What I did just now was buy you time. Time you'll need to get as far away from Scotland as you can. And it will all be for naught if anyone-even Conlan's kin-know that you and the baby are alive."
Danika was staring at him, shaking her head. "It's cruel to let them think anything else."
"Two of Reiver's worst enforcers are dead inside that blaze. He sent them to kill you, Dani. Don't think for a second he won't retaliate on you or the rest of the MacConns if he has even the slightest cause to suspect you might have walked away from this thing tonight."
He let her answering silence fill the quiet of the car as he drove deeper into the night, farther into the rolling hills and wilderness plains of the Highlands where he was born. "As of right now, you're dead, Danika. You have to trust me. It's the only way."
"Where will I go?"
"Somewhere he won't think to look for you."
She went quiet beside him again, murmuring soft words to her baby as the bundle in her arms began to fidget and fuss. Malcolm couldn't keep his gaze from straying to her now and then as the miles fell away behind them. She was lovely still, with her pale blond hair and smooth-as-cream skin.
Time had made him forget how regal yet feminine her Nordic features were, but seeing her now was like looking through a glass to all those years that had passed-the centuries, in fact. Danika MacConn's beauty hadn't faded even a little, despite the faint shadows riding under her eyes that hinted at how long she'd apparently gone without a fortifying taste of Breed blood.
He regretted the loss she'd suffered with Conlan's death. Losing one's blood-bonded mate was the worst kind of suffering. Con was the lucky one, relieved of the grief Danika had to carrnd had toy without him.
And watching her interact so tenderly with her baby son opened up a deeper ache inside Malcolm-the ache of a recent loss of his own. It was an anguish that had nearly destroyed him but now gave him reason to breathe. To have patience. To avenge.
The last thing he wanted was a vulnerable female and baby in his care. All the worse that it should be this female, at this time ... in this place.
Steeling himself to the consequences of his actions that night, Malcolm turned the sedan onto a rambling path that could hardly be called a road. They bumped and jostled through a thick heath, following the line of an old cow fence of tumbledown stones. The fortress dominated the vista up ahead, looming as dark as pitch against the wintry night sky.
Danika leaned forward in her seat, peering out the windshield. "I know this place," she murmured softly.
"Aye," he agreed. "You should know it well enough, I reckon."
She was quiet for a long moment, staring straight ahead as he slowed to a stop in front of it. "This is the castle where Conlan first asked me to be his mate." Danika's face glowed milky white in the lights of the dashboard as she turned to look at him now. "Malcolm ... this is your castle."
Chapter Five
The fifteenth-century stone tower house had been modernized extensively inside. Cold gray stone walls had been coated with white plaster and adorned with contemporary paintings and black-and-white art photographs of the surrounding Highlands. Roughhewn plank floors were now gleaming hardwood, warmed by thick wool rugs. In place of tallow candles and mounted torches spewing soot and smoke from their open flames, Mal had turned on beautiful lamps to chase away the shadows of the castle's interior.>Bran might have questioned the cryptic response, but all his focus was zeroed in on one task now. He stalked toward the club's security control room, casting a quick look behind him as he neared the back exit. The hallway was empty. Thane was gone.
Bran punched open the door and stepped into the bracing wintry chill outside. Too risky to take one of Reiver's fleet vehicles and hope it wouldn't be missed. Besides, he was Breed. He'd get where he was going even faster on foot.
He summoned the speed of his preternatural genetics and vanished into the night.
Chapter Four
Danika got up from the rocking chair and gently placed little Connor into the nest of blankets in his crib, careful not to wake him. His face was as innocent as a cherub's as he slept, sated from his evening feeding at her wrist. She savored these tender moments with her baby.
Watching the small bundle nestled in the center of the delicate crib, it was easy to forget how fierce and unbreakable he'd be one day. How bold and courageous his father's noble Breed blood would make him. In just a few years' time, by the age of five or six, Connor wouldwha be old enough to hunt his own prey. A short decade more and he would be full grown, lethally so, a Breed male ready to make his mark on the world. Would he accept a civilian life, perhaps find a Breedmate to give him sons of his own and centuries of peaceful existence? Or would he follow in his father's footsteps, pledging himself to a greater purpose?
In her heart, Danika knew the answer to those questions, difficult as it was to accept. Each time Connor grasped her finger in his tight little fist, his innocent eyes far too knowing, too fathomless for a mother's peace of mind, she knew. Her son would be a warrior, like his father.
And it killed something inside her to think she might lose him one day too.
With a soft kiss to Connor's velvety head, Danika drew away from the crib to let him sleep. She retrieved her empty tea mug from the table beside the rocking chair, then clicked off the bureau lamp on her way out of the bedroom, her gaze lingering on her child as she quietly closed the door.
