by Donna Grant
Fallon blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course there will be more. Deirdre knows we would come for Quinn. I’m not going to let my brother rot in her mountain to do with as she wants.”
Lucan glanced from his brother to Larena. Fallon’s wife was the only female Warrior they knew of, and her power to become invisible was a huge asset they planned to use once they reached Deirdre’s mountain.
Ever since Quinn had been taken, Lucan had worried for his younger brother. Quinn had always been rash, allowing his temper to rule him instead of listening to reason.
The fury that rode Quinn was understandable. Lucan didn’t know how he would deal with losing Cara, much less a child along with her. It was one of the reasons Cara and Larena took a special brew that prevented them from becoming pregnant, just in case. There was no record of a Warrior getting a woman with child, but Lucan didn’t want to take any chances until Deirdre was dead.
Quinn had every right to want his vengeance against Deirdre, but he hadn’t learned to control the rage. It was that anger that worried Lucan the most.
“You doona think he’ll survive, do you?” Galen asked him.
Lucan had stopped wondering how Galen always knew what he was thinking. Galen said he could read people’s expressions and how they held their bodies, but Lucan was beginning to suspect it was much more than that.
“It’s the truth I’m concerned,” Lucan admitted.
Galen raised a dark blond brow. He was still in Warrior form, his dark green skin cloaking him in the forest. Galen flexed the claws of his right hand and gazed at the ground. “Quinn is burdened by the deaths of his wife and son, as you know. But there is more.”
“I know.” Lucan ran a hand down his face and lowered himself to a fallen log. He longed to dive into the cool waters of the loch, but there wasn’t time for small enjoyments such as that. “Fallon told me all that Quinn had admitted to him about his relationship with Elspeth.”
Lucan had thought Quinn and Elspeth had loved each other. True, it wasn’t the love like their parents, but Lucan had thought his brother was happy. None of them had known just how wretched Quinn had been.
“Do you think Quinn is lost to us?” Lucan asked Galen. The question lodged in his throat, but it was one he asked himself every hour of every day.
In a blink Galen’s dark green skin, claws, and fangs vanished. He looked at Lucan with knowing blue eyes and shrugged. “We willna know that until we arrive. There is one thing you can never doubt, Lucan.”
“What’s that?”
“You and Fallon are all Quinn has in this world. The bond that holds the three of you together is stronger than all of Deirdre’s magic.”
Lucan thought over his words as Galen walked away. Lucan’s gaze shifted to the other six who traveled with him. There was Fallon who had finally taken his place as leader, and his wife Larena. Then there was Galen, Ramsey, Logan who kept them all laughing with his jests, and Hayden who had a hatred for drough that consumed him.
Quinn’s life rested on the fate of seven Warriors who were coming to free him.
“I wish we could get there sooner as well,” Fallon said as he walked up.
Lucan had been angry at first that Fallon couldn’t use his power to jump them from the castle to Cairn Toul Mountain in a blink. It had been too many years since any of them had been to the mountain, and if Fallon jumped and landed them in the middle of a rock, they would all be dead. They had to be safe, and that meant traveling on foot.
“We’ll get there,” Lucan answered. “We run faster than horses and can maneuver quickly if need be.”
Fallon nodded, but Lucan saw the weariness on his brother’s face.
“Galen told me something I hadn’t considered.”
Fallon chuckled and pushed his long dark brown hair away from his face. “I’m not surprised. Tell me.”
“He said that the bond between us brothers is stronger than any of Deirdre’s magic.”
“Do you think he’s right?”
Lucan considered it a moment and nodded. “Aye, brother, I do. Quinn might be many things, but he will fight against Deirdre.”
“A man can only last so long in her mountain, Lucan.”
“Then we best hurry.”
Fallon jumped to his feet, his brow furrowed. It was a look Lucan knew well. His brother’s mind was spinning with a plan.
“Let’s split up,” Fallon said. “The wyrran can only attack one group at a time.”
“And the other?”
Fallon smiled, the gleam of battle shining in his dark green eyes. “The other forges ahead.”
Lucan clapped his brother on the back. “Let’s get moving then. Quinn has waited long enough for us.” He grabbed his still-damp tunic and pulled it over his head.
With a nod to Fallon, Lucan motioned for Hayden, Logan, and Galen to come to him and continued on the path. Fallon took Larena and Ramsey by a different route to Deirdre’s mountain.
Seven
Marcail found herself watching Quinn as her mind turned from the chanting and music she had sworn she heard yet again. Every time Quinn walked about the cave or spoke to his men, her gaze tracked him. His movements were fluid and powerful.
She noticed the way he and his men would search the Pit with their eyes relentlessly. It didn’t take her long to understand what Quinn had meant when he said he had put her in greater danger by saving her.
Even in the shadows of Quinn’s cave she could feel the eyes of other Warriors on her. There was no privacy for her, but as long as she stayed in the cave, she was safe.
Safe, however, was a relative word at the moment. As long as Deirdre held her, Marcail would never be secure. Despite knowing this, she couldn’t make herself leave Quinn. Deirdre might not kill her, but Deirdre would make sure she was dead.
The thought of never looking into Quinn’s pale green gaze again left Marcail feeling ill to her stomach. Every Druid in Britain knew how important the MacLeods were to their survival. Was it the idea, as Quinn had said, of him and his brothers in the tales she heard that made her look at him as her savior?
It’s more than that. I know it is.
Marcail had seen into Quinn’s eyes. She had glimpsed for herself the shadows that haunted him, but she had also seen him take command. Every Warrior in the Pit regarded him as a leader. They might not all side with him, but they knew better than to question his authority.
Quinn turned and caught her staring at him. He frowned and asked her with just a shift of his head if everything was all right. She nodded and looked away. But it was too late. She saw him approach out of the corner of her eye.
“What is it?” he asked.
Marcail drew her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. She had been sitting on the slab Quinn used for his bed ever since she had left him that morning. Her bottom was numb, but she was scared to move, terrified to bring more attention to herself.
“Marcail?”
“It’s nothing. I was just watching you with your men.”
He sat beside her and leaned his elbows on his knees. “None of the Warriors would dare to come inside my cave. You can move around freely.”
“And if Deirdre discovers me?”
“In truth, it’s only a matter of time before she does.”
Marcail licked her lips as her skin rippled with trepidation. “Why put off the inevitable then? I’m putting you, Arran, and the twins in danger by hiding here.”
Quinn straightened and turned his head to look at her. “Do you think we care what Deirdre will do to us? Marcail, she puts people she wants to break in the Pit. We will either turn to her side or die. It’s the only way any of us will be released.”
“So you think she will leave me in here?”
“It’s crossed my mind. You said yourself she wants you dead.”
Marcail hoped Quinn was right. She had a better chance of survival with Quinn than anywhere else. “I hope you’re right.”
�
��I am. My brothers are coming for me, and when they do, I’m taking you out of here.”
“Are you sure your brothers know you are here?”
Quinn smiled wryly. “Oh, aye. Deirdre told me she left them a missive. They know she has me.”
“How did Deirdre capture you?”
By the way Quinn frowned she wished she hadn’t asked. “Never mind,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What did the stories tell you about me and my brothers?”
She hesitated, unsure of where to begin. “We were told you three were the first Warriors Deirdre found, that she killed your entire clan to get to you three.”
“That’s truth. Deirdre killed everything from livestock to children and babies. Anything that was on MacLeod land died.”
The way he said it made her soul ache. She heard the horror and acceptance in his voice, and it saddened her. “I’m sorry, Quinn.”
“My wife and son died in the slaughter along with my parents. I was with Fallon and Lucan and a handful of clansmen as we went to meet Fallon’s intended. Deirdre must have attacked right after we left.”
Marcail’s stomach rolled. She’d had no idea Quinn had been married and a father. She placed her hand atop his on his leg. “There is nothing I can say that will lessen the pain of losing a wife and child.”
“What else did you hear?”
She removed her hand and cleared her throat. It was obvious he didn’t like talking about his wife and son, not that she could blame him. She had always heard time heals all wounds. It might diminish the pain, but one never forgot the dead.
“The stories say you went looking for Deirdre.”
“Nay,” Quinn said with a shake of his head. “She sent us a note saying she knew who had attacked us. My brothers and I never realized the trap for what it was. As soon as we stepped foot in this mountain she chained us and unleashed the god.”
“What was it like having the god unbound?”
“More painful than you can imagine.” He blew out a breath and leaned back against the stones. “It felt as if every bone in my body snapped in two and then melded back together. My blood was like fire in my veins as the power of the god flowed through me. My body shook from the pain, but the power the god gave us overcame even that. We shattered the chains she had put us in and escaped before she realized what had happened.”
“You three were lucky.”
“Extremely so. Though at the time we didna think it. What do the stories say happened to us?”
Marcail tucked her legs underneath her. “Once you escaped Deirdre you disappeared, always fighting her.”
“Disappeared.” Quinn chuckled. “We lived for fifty years like animals in the mountains, fighting each other. We were too afraid to go into villages. It was Lucan who took us back to our castle.”
“MacLeod Castle?”
“Aye.”
Marcail couldn’t believe it. “No one ever thought to look there. The MacLeod lands were divided between clans and everyone assumed the castle was empty.”
“There was a village near the castle that made it interesting for us. We led them to believe the castle was haunted.”
“And you never left the castle?”
Quinn shrugged. “Occasionally I would, but my brothers didn’t. We wanted to stay hidden from Deirdre, and any time we spotted a wyrran we would kill it.”
“Is that how you got captured?”
Quinn hung his head. Marcail was full of questions. He might not have wanted her to know the real him, but it would come out eventually. He never cared to lie, and he didn’t want to lie to her, even if the trust disappeared from her turquoise eyes.
“Nay, Marcail. I got captured because Lucan fell in love with Cara, and I couldn’t bear to see them together.”
“Because you missed your wife?”
If only it were that simple. “In a way. Deirdre attacked the castle in an effort to capture Cara, who is a Druid. We beat back the Warriors and wyrran to save her, and despite Cara being mortal and Lucan immortal, their love knew no bounds. So, I ran away to have some time to myself. I spotted a wyrran and gave chase only to fall into a trap. Again.”
“So Deirdre discovered where you and your brothers were?”
“She did. I’m sure she’s attacked again since that time, and if I know my brothers and the other Warriors with them, Deirdre wouldna have stood a chance.”
“There are other Warriors with your brothers?” she asked, shock in her voice.
Quinn paused in his story. Marcail hadn’t turned from him when he confessed to running away from his brothers. He was curious as to why. “Aye, there are others. When I left, four had joined us to fight Deirdre.”
“Does she know this?”
“She does.”
Marcail’s eyes were wide with disbelief and hope. “Do you expect more Warriors to join you?”
“My brothers expect more, and Arran, Duncan, and Ian have joined me.”
“Will that be enough to defeat Deirdre?”
“It will have to be.”
Marcail put her hand on his arm and scooted closer to him. Quinn’s heart raced every time she touched him. He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless and lay her down so he could cover her body with his own. To press into her softness, to hear her soft moans of desire.
“Another Druid can help,” she said. “May I join with you?”
Quinn’s mouth suddenly went dry. Marcail’s face was breaths away, her breast brushing against his arm. His body was ablaze and the only thing that would quench him was the woman beseeching him with her exotic turquoise eyes.
“Of course,” he answered. “Cara will enjoy having another Druid in the castle.”
Marcail’s smile was blinding. “Thank you.”
It was Quinn who should be thanking her. Marcail was special, and not just because she was a Druid. She was extraordinary because she made him feel like a man again.
The desire flooding his veins must have shown in his eyes because the smile slowly dropped from her face. She didn’t move away from him, though.
And that was all Quinn needed to give in to the urge to kiss her.
Eight
“Quinn.”
Arran’s voice broke whatever held Marcail and Quinn. Marcail looked away so Quinn wouldn’t see how desperately she had wanted his kiss.
It was a startling sensation to want him to touch her. During her brief marriage, Marcail hadn’t enjoyed Rory’s touch or his unfeeling, chaste kisses.
But with Quinn everything was different. Her heart raced, her breath quickened, and her body burned. She didn’t understand how one man could do such things to her, but she enjoyed it too much to question it.
Marcail licked her lips as Quinn rose to his feet. There were no more words between the men. Whatever Arran had wanted Quinn to know, just saying his name had conveyed the information.
Quinn gave a brief nod to Arran before he turned to her. “Stay in the shadows. Doona move, and for God’s sake, doona make a sound.”
“Is it Deirdre?” she asked.
“I doona think so, but whoever it is, I doona want them to know of you.”
Marcail squared her shoulders. “I’ll do as you ask.”
Quinn gave her a wink and freed his hair from the queue before he doused the torch. He hesitated a moment, but it was enough that she realized he had transformed into a Warrior.
The cave was blanketed in darkness, leaving Marcail feeling alone. She huddled against the cool stones. She didn’t think there was time for her to move to one of the darker corners.
With the light of the few other torches Marcail could see Quinn and Arran take places at the entrance to Quinn’s cave. She also spotted the twin with short hair, Ian, moving near them.
“Stay where you are,” Duncan said as he came to stand in front of her. “I will shield you.”
When Marcail tilted her head to the side she could see Quinn and his midnight skin fad
ing into the shadows that surrounded him. Her curiosity was too great not to want to know what was going on. Her heart pounded in her ears as her anxiety rose.
“Easy,” Duncan whispered to her. “All will be well.”
Marcail wanted to believe the light blue Warrior, but nothing had been “well” for her in weeks, years even.
“It’s not Deirdre.”
She looked up at the big Warrior. Only his silhouette could be seen, but even that little bit showed her his gaze was riveted on Quinn.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“The other Warriors. If it was Deirdre, they would hide.”
The only Warrior she could catch a glimpse of besides Quinn, Arran, and Ian was the one across from them. The Warrior leaned one shoulder casually against the stones, his arms crossed over his thick chest.
The torchlight flickered, revealing his copper skin and chin-length brown hair that parted in the middle and hung on either side of his face. His kilt was in better condition than the twins’, but she didn’t recognize the tartan. On either side of the Warrior’s temples were two thick horns that curved around his forehead.
If the Warrior was any indication, Duncan was correct and it wasn’t Deirdre who was coming into the Pit. But if it wasn’t Deirdre, then who was it?
“Quinn,” a deep voice echoed through the Pit.
Quinn wasn’t surprised to find Broc beckoning him. What did the flying Warrior want, though? Quinn had the urge to look back at Marcail, but he kept his head forward and trusted Duncan to watch over her.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Arran asked.
“Nay. I’ll deal with Broc on my own.”
Quinn hadn’t understood Broc’s need to torment him while he had been in the mountain, but the indigo Warrior made sure to look in on Quinn often enough.
Whatever Broc wanted, he didn’t wish for the others to hear it. Broc wasn’t afraid of anything, not even being attacked in the Pit. It had been Quinn’s plan. Attack the Warrior, and he would get free. Though Arran and the twins were up for the task, the other Warriors refused to commit to the plan.