Wicked Highlander

Fourteen

Hours had slowly ticked by since Marcail had told Quinn she believed it was his destiny to kill Deirdre. He hadn’t bolted, but he wasn’t comfortable with the news either. Not that she could blame him. She certainly wouldn’t want to have that responsibility on her shoulders.

From what she had learned from Quinn, there was much of his past he was ashamed of. She was apt to forgive him because he had been acting on losing his wife and child. That in itself had broken many a man.

Quinn hadn’t broken, though, thanks to his brothers. Marcail wanted to meet them. She was curious as to the sort of men they were. Quinn spoke highly of them, which said a lot for the bond they shared, a bond that could never be broken.

Marcail huddled in Quinn’s tunic against the chill. He had tossed it to her before he had set up to keep watch. With Ian gone and Duncan lost in his misery, Marcail didn’t expect to see Quinn for several more hours yet.

But she longed to.

She yearned to wrap her arms around him and kiss his lips. She wanted to feel his hard body against hers, to know the skilled caress of his hands. He had told her he would take her, and God help her, she wanted it to be tonight. She wanted to feel again that utter bliss when she had peaked by Quinn’s hands and mouth.

Not knowing what the morrow brought made her want to grasp the here and now with both hands and never let go, especially of Quinn.

Marcail knew she was foolish to latch on to Quinn as she had, but not only had he saved her, he protected her. And he showed her the pleasures of being a woman.

Her body heated just thinking of being touched and held by Quinn again. She squeezed her legs together as a bolt of desire speared her, but the pressure only increased her longing.

She hadn’t bothered to lie down on the slab. After waking in Quinn’s arms that morning surrounded by his heat and scent, Marcail preferred to doze as she sat.

It wasn’t until she had met Quinn, had felt his desire, and had experienced the need within herself that she realized how lonely she had been.

Marcail’s gaze shifted to the cave’s entrance when a shadow moved. Quinn had taken the torch from his cave, which left her bathed in darkness. She was learning the Pit, though. Since she couldn’t see as well as the Warriors in the dark, she relied on her hearing.

The shadow that moved stood tall, and she could just make out the torc around his neck.

Quinn.

She hadn’t realized he had been so close to her all this time. Her heart leapt in her chest as he took a step toward her.

Marcail rose to her feet, her hands clutching his tunic. When he didn’t make another move to come to her, she decided to go to him instead. For too long she had sat through life and waited to see what would come her way. It was time for her to take charge.

She had crossed half the distance when Quinn took two long strides and grabbed her before he spun her toward the wall. She gasped as his hard, hot body pressed her against the cool stones of the mountain. She was so surprised that her hands released their hold on his tunic.

“You should have pretended to be asleep,” he murmured in her ear.

“Impossible when all I think about is you.”

He growled and took her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath. She didn’t need magic to feel his desire. Each stroke of his tongue against hers told her all she needed to know.

And she couldn’t wait to feel more. She wanted all of it — all of him—and she would have it tonight.

Quinn’s body had never hungered for a woman the way it did for Marcail. She might have been married, but her body was still innocent to the ways of the flesh. But she learned quickly.

Already, she held him captive with just her amazing turquoise eyes. He had known the entire time he kept watch that she was awake. He prayed she would sleep so that he could keep his distance, but he should have known better. His body craved another taste of her.

Right now, he would move heaven and earth to ensure he had her.

His fingers dug into her hips in an effort to keep her still. He had such slim control over his desire that he feared he would lose all of it if she ground against him.

Control or not, he had to touch more of her. He let his hands move up to the indent of her small waist, then up farther still. He paused and let his thumbs rest against the bottom swell of her breasts.

Quinn wanted to slice her gown from her body so he could feast upon her with his own eyes. He stopped himself at the last moment when he realized she didn’t have anything else to wear.

She arched her back when he deepened the kiss, pushing her breasts against his chest. He cupped the mounds, marveling at the fullness that filled his hands.

He lightly skimmed her breasts with his thumbs and heard her sharp intake of breath when he touched her nipples. Instantly, he could feel the hard little buds as they pushed against the fabric that held them.

“Quinn,” she moaned.

“I’m going to have you, Marcail.”

Her fingers slid into his hair and pulled his head back down to hers. “Aye, you are.”

Holy Hell, she stirred his blood.

Quinn released her breasts and tugged her skirts up until they were bunched in his hands. Marcail took over from there and hastily removed her clothing.

He knelt down in front of her and kissed her bare stomach while his hands removed her shoes and woolen stockings. Her legs were lithe and her skin smooth to the touch. He kissed each knee before he stood and pulled her into his arms.

“I’m without clothes,” she said.

Quinn grinned. “I can see that.”

“You aren’t.”

“Hmm,” he said against her neck. “That’s because if I remove my boots and breeches, I willna stop to do this.”

She whispered his name when he bent and closed his mouth around one pert nipple. Quinn smiled against the creamy smoothness of her breast and suckled harder.

He wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright when she sagged against him. Her breathing was ragged, and her moans music to his ears.

But he wasn’t nearly done with her.

Quinn spread her gown and his tunic out as best he could with his foot before he lifted Marcail in his arms and laid her on the clothes. It wasn’t a bed, but it was the closest thing he had.

Marcail smiled at him, her half-closed eyes watching his every movement. Quinn knew he should wait to remove his clothes, but he wanted to feel his skin against her. Without another thought, he pulled off his boots and jerked out of his breeches.

“Oh,” Marcail murmured and sat up on her forearm. “You’re…stunning, Quinn.”

“Nay, my Druid. You are the one that is stunning.” He knelt at her feet and crawled over her. “You have skin softer than silk and eyes more exotic than any treasure on earth. You,” he licked her navel, “make me,” he nipped her breast, “burn.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck. “I’ve been burning too, Quinn. Don’t make me wait. Please.”

There was so much he wanted to do to her, but he felt her need and it matched his own. Hungry. Yearning. Aching.

As soon as his body touched hers, he was lost. He had loved holding her before, but skin to skin, he craved to get closer to her.

Quinn claimed her lips again because he couldn’t get enough of her taste. How he had gone three hundred years without kissing was beyond him, but he knew as long as Marcail was near him, he would kiss her at least once an hour.

He groaned when her hands roamed over his back to his buttocks. She squeezed and raised her hips to grind into his already aching rod.

The feel of her wet heat against him shredded the last bit of control. With just a shift of his hips, the head of his shaft slid against her sex.

He had felt the heated folds of her sex, knew how sensitive she was. Quinn rotated his hips so that his cock circled her clitoris. Marcail groaned his name as she arched her back and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Quinn wanted to tease her body more, but the need to feel her slick heat surrounding him won out. He shifted his hand between them and guided his cock to her entrance.

He paused before he pushed inside her. He wanted Marcail with an intensity that frightened him, but more than that, he wanted her to want him as well.

“Quinn?”

“I want you,” he said. “I want you desperately, but—”

She placed a finger over his lips. “No one, no one, has ever touched me as you have. If you stop now, I think I might die.”

It was all the answer he needed. Quinn clenched his teeth together when her wet heat surrounded him and he eased his way into her sex. She was so tight, so hot that he shook with need. He tried to be gentle, but his desire — and his god — pushed him for more.

Quinn thrust once, seating himself to the hilt. Marcail’s nails dug in his back, her breath hitching. He glanced down at her to find her eyes closed, her head thrown back, and her mouth parted in bliss.

He kissed her neck and began to move within her, slowly at first and then gradually increasing his tempo. The friction of his shaft in her nearly made him spill his seed right then. It was only the way her body began to move with his that kept him from giving in to the climax.

Quinn felt her stiffen and knew Marcail was close to peaking. He bent his head and fastened his lips around her nipple. He laved and suckled the tiny nub until she was trembling. And then he bit down gently.

He watched, amazed, as she shattered in his arms. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. He continued to move, prolonging her orgasm. When the last tremor ran through her body, his climax burst from him.

With his face buried in Marcail’s neck, Quinn experienced the most glorious, most moving orgasm of his very long life.

Marcail didn’t want to move. She loved the feel of Quinn on top of her, but more than that, she loved the feel of him inside her.

The few times she and Rory had mated, it had been quick and, though not painful, it hadn’t been pleasant either. But those memories shouldn’t mar what had just taken place.

“Are you all right?” Quinn asked.

Marcail nodded and let her feet run over his tight buttocks and firm legs to his calves. She couldn’t get enough of touching him. The way his muscles moved and bunched beneath her hands was mesmerizing.

And his body. She sighed. He was so gloriously beautiful that she couldn’t look her fill enough. Not only was he finely sculpted with muscles across his shoulders and arms, but also down his chest, which narrowed to his waist and firm bottom and legs. He was perfection in every way.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She heard the worry in his voice and gave him a quick kiss. “Nay, Quinn MacLeod, you did not. The one thing you did do was pleasure me so well I don’t think I can move.”

He chuckled. “Is that so?”

“It is. Tell me something.”

“Anything.”

“What just happened between us? Is it normal?”

He hesitated for a moment, and Marcail was afraid he either wouldn’t answer, or she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

“Nay, it isna normal. A man will usually always experience pleasure, but not a woman. For a woman to peak, a man must stimulate her.”

Just as she thought. Rory hadn’t cared enough about her to give her any pleasure. “Then I’m glad to share this with you.”

“Aye, Marcail. I agree.”

He pulled out of her and rolled to his back before he tucked her against his side. She enjoyed resting her head on his shoulder. It was an intimacy she had never had before, and one that she wouldn’t be able to live without now.

If it weren’t for his fingers caressing her back she would have thought he was asleep by how quiet he was. She was not known for her patience, and even though she told herself it was none of her business, she wanted to know where his thoughts were.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

He blew out a breath. “My clan and the day they all died.”

Marcail put her hand over his heart, wishing her magic would work instantly so she could take away his pain. “Time has not dulled that day, has it?”

“Nay. The smell of rotting and burning flesh was so great I kept gagging. That is a smell I hope you never have to suffer.”

“If Deirdre has her way, everyone will know that odor.”

“Do you know what I remember most about that day?” he asked. “The silence. MacLeod Castle had always been full of people. Amid the conversations were men training, children laughing, the blacksmith at work, and the animals. So many sounds.”

Marcail kissed his shoulder. “I cannot imagine.”

“The first sound I heard was that of a crow. The next thing I knew they were everywhere.”

“The stories never say what you did with everyone. Did you bury them?”

He wrapped a lock of her sable hair around his finger. “We wanted to, but there were just too many. We had to burn them.”

“You said that you returned to the castle.”

“For two hundred and fifty years we’ve lived in the castle of our birth. We could not repair it as we wanted because we didn’t wish anyone to know we were there. People feared what had happened to our clan, so they stayed away from the castle.”

Marcail rose up on her elbow to look into his face. She smoothed a lock of his light brown hair from his brow. “You’ve had a very hard life.”

“Nay,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s been Hell, but others have had it worse. I realized that after I’ve been in here. I wish you could have seen the castle before it was ruined. It was majestic.”

“Will you show it to me?”

That brought a grin to his face. “Oh, aye. I will surely do that. Lucan has a gift for shaping wood to whatever he wants. He made us a new table and chairs and even repaired our beds.”

“And Fallon? What is his talent?”

“Leading,” Quinn answered without hesitation. “He was born to be the laird, and a better man God couldn’t have chosen. He will lead Hayden, Ramsey, Galen, and Logan well.”

“Who are these other Warriors?”

Quinn put a hand behind his head, his brow furrowed. “Galen found Cara first. Cara had run away from Lucan because everyone around her was killed by Deirdre, and she didn’t want Lucan to die.”

“I gather Lucan went after her?”

“He did. In the process, Galen found Cara in the woods. Galen recognized what the Demon’s Kiss was around Cara’s neck.”

Marcail jerked. “Cara is a drough?”

“Nay. Her mother was at least, but they were killed when she was very young. She escaped and was raised by nuns. Cara is a good person. The only way she would become drough would be to save Lucan.”

“You like her,” Marcail said.

Quinn nodded. “I do. She’s good for Lucan, good for all of us actually. It was Cara’s idea for Galen to come to the castle.”

“You didn’t fear he was a spy for Deirdre?”

“At first, of course. There are some people who are honest and their word is their bond. Galen is such a man. It was easy to trust him. And when he left signs in the forest for others to find him, we welcomed them as well.”

Marcail settled back on his shoulder. Despite where they were, she was content to be held by Quinn and hear him talk. “Tell me about them.”

“There is Hayden, who is taller than most men with arms as big around as a tree trunk. I’m not sure what happened to him in his past, but he has a hatred for anything drough. When I left, we were still making sure Hayden wasn’t left alone with Cara.”

“But Cara isn’t drough.”

“I know, but to Hayden she has drough blood, so it’s the same difference.”

“I see,” she murmured. “And the others?”

“Ramsey is the quiet one, the listener. You almost forget he’s even there until he makes a comment or suggestion. He has an uncanny ability to sum up everything in one or two words, but he can also work through dilemmas.”

Marcail smiled. “A level head, he has.”

“And it comes in handy to be sure.”

“The other Warrior?”

“Logan. He’s the youngest of us and always smiling. He eases tensions with jests and quips that will leave everyone laughing.”

Marcail ran her hand down Quinn’s taut stomach and rippling muscles. “Do you think more will come to your castle?”

“I hope they do. It will take more than seven of us to defeat Deirdre.”

“But you have Duncan, Ian, and Arran,” she said. Her hand stopped at his hip. She wanted to wrap her hand around his now flaccid rod, but she wasn’t quite brave enough.

“Ten is better than seven.”

Then she remembered her desire to take chances she wouldn’t normally take since she could die on the morrow. She skimmed her nails down the side of Quinn’s hip to his thigh before she moved her hand to his cock.

He sucked in a breath when she wrapped her hands around him. She watched in amazement as his rod grew hard before her very eyes.

“Marcail,” he murmured.

She smiled and kissed his chest. “You feel wonderful inside me, but I wanted to know what you felt like in my hand.”

His hand at her back flexed and pulled her tighter against him. Marcail slowly moved her hand up and down his length, marveling at how hot he was, and hard. It was as if steel had been forged beneath his skin, he was so rigid. Yet his skin was as soft as velvet.

A bead of liquid formed at his tip. She ran her thumb over the head of his cock and smoothed the liquid over him. Her stomach fluttered when she heard Quinn’s low moan.

Up and down her hand moved, learning the feel of him. She loved watching the way his hips rose in response to her touch.

“Nay more,” Quinn said as he shifted to his side and kissed her. He turned her over until her back was against his chest.

“I liked touching you.”

He pressed his lips against her neck and moaned. The vibration against her skin was heavenly.

“I know,” he said thickly. “But I want to touch you as well.”

Marcail couldn’t stroke him the way he had her positioned, but before she could complain, his hand shifted to her sex and parted her folds. He then sank a finger deep inside her.

“Hm. I think I like this position. I have you just where I want you.”

She bit her lip as his cock ground into her from behind. His other hand had found her breasts and now rolled a nipple between his fingers.

“Quinn,” she murmured. The desire pulsing through her was so great she couldn’t get another word out.

As if he knew just what she needed, he lifted her leg and guided his rod to her entrance. With one shift of his hips, he was inside her, the feel of him from behind new and exciting.

Marcail moaned as pleasure rippled through her. Taking Quinn as she did, he went deeper, touched more of her. And it was wonderful.

He took his time, moving slowly in and out of her, heightening her pleasure with each thrust, each shift of his hips. When he began to move faster, harder, Marcail was powerless to do anything about the climax that moved quickly toward her.

The first waves of her orgasm engulfed her before she knew it. Quinn jerked behind her, her name on his lips as his hot seed poured into her. Knowing they peaked together prolonged her pleasure.

Long minutes passed before either of them could speak as they lay wrapped together. She had thought the first time they had made love was magnificent, but this second time had been extraordinary.

“Sleep, wee Druid,” Quinn whispered in her ear.

Marcail let her eyes close as he tucked her more firmly against him. As she drifted off to sleep she realized he was still inside her.