Wicked Highlander (18 page)

Lucan scanned the area, and though he could see nothing, he knew something was out there. And that something was Warriors.

“The plan didna work,” Fallon whispered from beside him.

“It got us farther than we were before, and it gave us some time to rest and heal our wounds.”

Fallon grunted in response. They looked over the surrounding land from behind a clump trees. Nothing had moved in the thirty minutes they had been searching, but their Warrior senses told them more than their eyes ever could.

“How long do you want to wait?” Lucan asked.

Fallon sighed. “I doona want to wait another moment, but we will be outnumbered. We'll be captured if we rush in.”

“I agree. I want in the mountain, but not like that. We'll be no good to Quinn then.”

“Maybe we send two or three out there and see what happens?”

Lucan nodded. “I like that idea. I'll go.”

“Nay,” Fallon said. “The point is for neither of us to be taken.”

Lucan rested his forehead on the tree and blew out a breath of frustration. “You'll be watching. If it looks as though I'm to be taken, you can help.”

Fallon's silence told Lucan he didn't like the plan, but Fallon was thinking on it.

“All right,” Fallon finally agreed. “Stay so that I can see you, brother. I've already lost one of you, I canna lose another.”

Lucan nodded, and they turned to make their way slowly back to the others.

“What did you see?” Larena asked when she caught sight of Fallon.

Fallon's face was set in grim lines. “The Warriors are there. We didna see how many there are, but they are waiting for us to make a move.”

“I'm ready for them,” Hayden said as he bit into an apple.

Lucan was ready as well, but he knew Fallon would be extra careful with this battle. He watched how Fallon took Larena's hand and brought her close to him.

Lucan missed Cara, and though he would like to have her by his side, Cara wasn't a Warrior as Larena was. Cara was safer at the castle, but he couldn't wait to get to her, to hold her, to kiss her.

“Three of us are going to go out and see what greeting we get from the Warriors,” Lucan said. “I'm going. Who wants to go with me?”

Hayden stepped forward and tossed aside his half-eaten apple. “I'm ready.”

“Let's not keep them waiting,” Logan said as he moved to stand beside Hayden.

Lucan nodded and then turned to Fallon. “The rest of you stay hidden.”

As one they turned and started back to where Lucan had first sensed the other Warriors. Fallon, Larena, Ramsey, and Galen took up posts in trees and on the ground to keep watch while Lucan, Hayden, and Logan kept walking.

Lucan flexed his claws, eager to rid Scotland of the evil Warriors who had aligned themselves with Deirdre. He glanced to his right to see Hayden's red skin as the big blond showed his fangs in a smile.

When Lucan looked to his left he spotted Logan's silver skin. Logan grinned at him, ready—and eager—as any of them for the coming battle.

And just as Lucan expected, ten Warriors poured out of the trees ahead of them. Hayden stretched out his arm as a fireball formed in his hand. He threw it at the oncoming Warriors and quickly formed another.

Lucan crouched low and was about to launch himself at the four Warriors coming toward him when all of a sudden they stopped. After a moment the Warriors turned and raced back into the trees.

“What in the name of all that is holy just happened?” Logan asked.

Lucan shrugged. “I doona know. Could be a trap. They know we'll follow.”

“Shite,” Hayden growled and clenched his fists. “I was just getting started.”

Lucan looked over his shoulder at Fallon, who sat on a limb high in a tree. After a brief nod from his brother, Lucan motioned for Hayden and Logan to follow him.

“We're going to see where the bastards are going.”

But when they crested the hill and saw the Warriors continuing on toward the mountain, Lucan drew to a halt. Something odd was definitely going on.

“What's happened?” Fallon asked as he raced up beside them.

Lucan shook his head. “They're running away.”

“I can see that. What I want to know is why?”

“They were afraid of me,” Hayden said and slapped Lucan on the shoulder. “Let's enjoy our victory and free Quinn.”

Lucan turned to Fallon. “What do you think?”

“I have no idea,” Fallon said. “It could be anything. Deirdre had to have called them off, and the only reason for her doing that is…”

“Quinn,” Lucan finished for his brother. “Quinn has to have given in to her.”

“But she wants all of us,” Fallon said.

“Now that she has Quinn on her side, she knows we'll do anything for him.”

Fallon raked a hand through his hair and blew out a ragged breath. “I think we need to get into the mountain. Now.”

“I think you're right.”

 

Deirdre waited as long as she could to give Quinn some time to himself. She knew he didn't want her now, but by the time she was done with him, he would think of her and only her for the rest of his days.

She smiled as her anticipation grew. She had even enjoyed watching him eat; how she longed to see him bathe, but that would come later.

Now that he was hers.

She rubbed her hands together and smiled. He was really hers. After all these centuries, she had the one man she had always wanted.

Deirdre rose from her chair and moved to the table where the food had been laid out. She poured some wine into Quinn's goblet and drank where his lips had been a short while ago.

She closed her eyes and groaned as she tasted him mixed with the wine. Her sex throbbed with need, and just imagining him sliding his cock inside her made her wet and achy.

Deirdre paced the chamber until she could stand it no more. She opened the door and peered inside to find the tub empty. With a slight push, she cracked the door wider and searched the chamber for Quinn.

It wasn't until she looked to the bed that she saw him stretched on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes. Anger filled her at finding him asleep. He should have come to her when he was finished bathing, but instead he had gone to bed.

Waiting for you perhaps?

She considered this. It could be, but Quinn hadn't seemed intent on bedding her.

Unless it's a ruse.

Deirdre liked it the more she thought of it.

She walked to the bed and trailed her hands from Quinn's feet to his chest. He was snoring slightly so she tugged off his boots and placed them by the bed. She then straightened and gazed down at him.

She knew firsthand what the Warriors experienced in the Pit and sleep hadn't been something Quinn did often. A strange new emotion filled her, one of almost…kindness as she considered allowing him to rest.

Deirdre moved to the other side of the bed and crawled in beside him. She touched his jaw for a moment
before she turned on her side to sleep. They had eternity together now. What was a few more hours?

 

Quinn's eyes slid open as Deirdre turned away from him. He couldn't believe his deception had worked, but he had been desperate for anything so he wouldn't have to touch her. It was bad enough that she was in the same bed with him.

It had been a long time since he had lain in a bed. Waking from being beaten in Deirdre's bed didn't count in his mind.

Even once he and his brothers had returned to the castle he had been unable to sleep in the bed of his old chamber. The night had been his hunting ground. He would race across the land he loved so much, uncaring of what animals saw him.

When his loneliness got too terrible and the need to relieve his cock grew too much, he would find a town and make quick use of a woman.

Then he would roam the castle and the cliffs. Sometimes he would doze for an hour or two, but he was always awake to see the sun crest the horizon.

But it was the softness of the bed that pulled at him now, reminding him how nice it would be to have Marcail beside him. He had made love to her several times, but not once in a bed with fresh linen sheets beneath her beautiful body.

He wanted to see her in the sunlight, to feast upon her curves in the light of day. He wanted to see her spread upon his bed, the MacLeod plaid beneath her with candlelight and firelight burnishing her skin in a golden glow.

There was so much he wanted to do with Marcail. Too much.

Quinn's chest ached as he imagined Marcail huddled in his cave in the cold darkness. It was no place for a Druid, especially one that meant so much to him.

He knew he cared for Marcail, but the caring went much deeper than the responsibility he ought to feel. Quinn wasn't sure when his feelings had changed, he just knew they had.

And now he wouldn't ever be able to touch her, kiss her again.

He didn't want Marcail to see what he would become with Deirdre. Quinn wouldn't be able to carry out his plan if he knew Marcail looked at him with shame and revulsion.

Maybe he should have told Marcail what he intended to do, but he hadn't wanted to give her a chance to talk him out of anything. As it was, he wanted to rush back to her and let Deirdre torture him however she wanted.

Except the torture would be on anyone but him, and that's what kept him in her bed instead of returning to Marcail.

The next few days were going to be the hardest. He could hold Deirdre off for only so long before she demanded the use of his body.

At least his brothers were safe for the time being, and would continue to be so until the child came.

Quinn shuddered thinking of such a child being created. The conception of a baby was supposed to be a joyous occasion. He had to steel himself with the knowledge that he would have to kill the child the first chance
he got. Something so evil couldn't walk upon this earth for even a heartbeat.

But what kind of man was he that plotted to kill his own infant when he mourned the loss of a son so much it nearly destroyed him?

Marcail swayed with the mesmerizing music. She had been ecstatic when she had heard the magical chant once again. For a while, she had thought it was gone from her forever, but one thought of Quinn and the music returned in a rush of sound.

The words grew louder, but she still could only understand a few of them. She sensed they were important, but for what, she didn't know.

She let herself succumb to the melody, let it surround her and pull her into its magic. It sounded as if hundreds of voices chanted, but she could see no one.

The breeze that had moved gently around her began to swirl and grow stronger as the chanting rose. It was as if Marcail stood in the center of everything as the magic moved toward her then retreated only to move forward once again, growing closer and closer each time it came at her.

She felt protected, as if she belonged to the magic. The more it touched her, the stronger she felt. It was a wondrous, beautiful feeling she never wanted to end.

The words of the chanting became clear in a blink, their meaning known. She gasped, her heart skipping a beat when she realized the mantra was the spell to bind the gods.

Marcail couldn't believe she finally was able to find the spell, though in the back of her mind, she knew she hadn't done it alone. Was it her grandmother? Or was it something else?

It didn't matter. She would be able to help Quinn defeat Deirdre. Excitement poured through her at the prospect.

Her concentration was shattered and the beautiful melody vanished as hands gently shook her. Marcail snapped open her eyes to find Arran and Duncan squatting before her.

“Why did you do that?” she cried. Instead of listening and memorizing the chant, she had been thinking of Quinn. She only knew half of the spell, and half wasn't good enough.

“You've been sitting like that for hours, Marcail,” Arran said. “We grew worried.”

She bit her lip. She didn't want them to know she had been so close to freeing them, at least not yet. If word spread before she learned the rest of the spell, it would do them no good. Plus, she had to worry about Deirdre discovering her and ending all hope.

Marcail rose from her position on the floor and moved to the water to splash her face. “Next time, please do not disturb me. I'm not being harmed in any way.”

“You were sitting so ever since Quinn was taken. It's been almost a full day,” Duncan said.

Marcail paused. She hadn't realized the chanting had pulled her under so completely. Would she have made it back had the Warriors not woken her? She wasn't sure.

She knew she would have to tell them before she attempted to find the chant again.

“What has happened while I've been…resting?” she asked.

Arran shook his head, his face grim. “Nothing, and that's what bothers me.”

“It's only been a day,” Marcail said. “What did you expect to happen?”

“Something,” Duncan replied. “It's almost as if the mountain is holding its breath.”

Marcail felt the same way. “I know what you mean. It will most likely take Quinn days or weeks before he can manage to help us escape. Until then, we need to stay vigilant as he asked.”

Arran glanced at the entrance to the cave. “It's more than that, Marcail.”

She looked from Arran to Duncan, then back to Arran. “Tell me.”

Duncan looked away.

It was Arran who finally spoke. “We saw Charon speaking with someone earlier.”

“So,” she said with a smile. That's what they were worried about? That was nothing. “Charon most likely wants to rule the Pit as Quinn did. Charon figures he'll talk to some of the Warriors to get them on his side.”

Arran swallowed and scratched his neck with his white claws.

“He wasn't talking to Warriors in the Pit, was he?” she asked as apprehension began to creep up her back.

Arran shook his head. “I'm not sure who he spoke with at the door, but who ever it was, he was there for a while.”

Marcail grew sick as realization dawned. “I know what he was doing.”

“What?” Duncan asked.

“When Quinn was taken the first time I told Charon to tell Deirdre that I knew the spell, hoping that she would take me in trade for Quinn.”

Arran punched the rocks. “Shite!”

Duncan mumbled something underneath his breath.

“Did Quinn know you did that?” Arran asked.

She nodded. “I told him. He wasn't happy. Charon didn't do it, though. I didn't think he would tell Deirdre about me because he was distressed to learn that I had the spell and was in Deirdre's control.”

“You canna trust Charon,” Duncan growled. “He cares only for himself. No one else matters to him. No one.”

She realized that now. Unfortunately, it was too late for her. “They will come for me. Neither of you must stop them from taking me.”

“We swore to Quinn we would protect you,” Arran said.

“What you'll do is get yourselves beaten or killed,” she argued. “Let them take me. The best thing you can do for me and Quinn is to stay alive and unharmed.”

Arran sighed loudly, obviously not liking her logic.

She turned to Duncan. “Have you had any more pain that I need to help you with before I'm taken?”

“Nothing I canna handle,” he said. “They are no longer beating Ian.”

She placed a hand on Duncan's arm, then did the same to Arran. “Both of you are good men. Quinn is counting on you. Don't let him down.”

“Never,” Duncan swore.

She smiled because she heard the truth in his words. “Deirdre cannot kill me, remember.”

“She canna kill you but she can have others do it,” Arran said. “Doona forget that, Marcail.”

How could she when she would soon be facing that very possibility? And if she knew anything about Deirdre, her death was going to be very, very painful.

“You canna go with her,” Duncan said. “If you do, we will never be returned to the men we once were.”

Marcail ached for the Warriors. “I don't see how I will have much of a choice. If I could, I would stay with you.”

“What if we told the other Warriors in the Pit just what you carry in your mind? They might help us protect you,” Arran said.

She shook her head. “You could try, but I don't think it will work. Besides, do you want everyone to know about a spell that I cannot remember?”

“What I want them to know is that we can push the gods away forever.”

“Can you really?” she asked. “Deirdre can once more unbind your gods, and I imagine there are Warriors with her that don't wish to be mortal again.”

Arran cursed and turned away. She understood his disappointment because she felt the same way.

“What choice do we have?” Duncan asked. “You need to be protected from Deirdre.”

Marcail felt the sadness weigh heavily on her shoulders. “I'm afraid that's impossible.”

 

Quinn made sure he appeared to sleep well past the time Deirdre rose from the bed. When she stood beside him and ran her hands over his body, it was everything he could do not to throw her hands away from him.

It wasn't until she finally left the chamber that he rose from the bed. He found a ewer of water and splashed some on his face.

He was sitting to pull on his boots when the door flew open and Deirdre stood in the doorway, fury flashing from her evil white eyes.

“Did you not sleep well?” he asked, uncaring about what had riled her so early in the morn.

“My sleep does not concern you at this moment.”

“Is that so?” He pulled on his second boot and stood. “Then what should concern me?”

“Marcail.”

Quinn felt as if someone had reached into his chest and yanked out his heart. He couldn't manage to take air into his lungs. The world ground to a halt as he raged between fury and confusion on how Marcail had been discovered.

Deirdre walked to him. “I was told you gave her shelter in the Pit. Why didn't you kill her?”

“Why didna you?” The more Deirdre spoke about Marcail the angrier he got. Deirdre wasn't worthy to speak Marcail's name.

“I had my reasons,” Deirdre replied. “The Druid is a nuisance, Quinn. I tossed her into the Pit so she would be killed. You should have allowed that to happen.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “And why is that?”

“She probably told you she knows the spell to bind your gods. She lied. She has the spell that will allow your gods to take over completely.”

Quinn shook his head and snorted. “Stop with the lies. Marcail does have the spell to bind our gods. You didna kill her yourself because you fear what will hap
pen to you if you harm her. All those protection spells must be an irritation for one so all-powerful as you.”

“Then you don't know me at all. I fear nothing.”

“Not true. You fear the magic of Marcail's grandmother. I've seen what can happen to someone who harms Marcail. It's not something you want to tangle with, Deirdre.”

A single white brow rose on Deirdre's forehead. “You think you know everything, do you?”

“You've killed almost every Druid you've ever captured,
mie
and
drough
alike, so that you can claim their magic. I had to ask myself, why wouldna you want the powerful magic that runs in Marcail's blood? It was easy enough to figure out.”

Deirdre slowly walked around Quinn until she stood at his back. “Tell me, Quinn, what is your interest in Marcail?”

He knew he had to choose his words carefully. He didn't want Deirdre to know how deep his feelings went for Marcail, especially since he was still trying to decipher them himself. “I saved her. She's my responsibility.”

“Hm. I wonder if your feelings go deeper than that. You've bedded her, so you must have found something to your liking.”

Quinn faced her. He didn't want to spoil what had happened between him and Marcail, but he also couldn't let Deirdre suspect anything.

“It had been a long time since I'd lain with a woman. She was grateful that I saved her and repaid me with the use of her body.”

“You could have had mine,” Deirdre said.

“I'd rather slit my own throat.”

Deirdre suddenly smiled. “Ah, but my dear Quinn, you agreed to bed me in exchange for leaving your brothers alone.”

“I did. I willna go back on my vows.”

“I don't doubt that you will do your part, but I wonder how long you will try to put me off.”

Quinn clenched his jaw. He hadn't expected Deirdre to learn of Marcail so quickly. Damn.

“What do you want?” he asked in the most civil voice that he could.

She laughed. “I've always enjoyed having this kind of power. It's exhilarating.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“How much is Marcail's life worth to you?”

Quinn wanted to punch Deirdre in the face, to rip her heart from her body and toss her into a fire. “I doona want anyone else to die.”

“And Marcail? What will you do to ensure I allow her to live?”

“What do you want?”

“You. In my bed immediately.”

Quinn ran a hand down his face. He had no other choice. He couldn't live with himself if he was the cause of Marcail's death just because he found Deirdre repulsive.

“On one condition. You allow Marcail to leave the mountain. And I want to see for myself that you release her.”

Deirdre lifted a shoulder. “You agree to bed me after she's gone?”

He nodded, unable to say the words. How had things gone so wrong so soon?