Wicked Highlander

Twenty-four

Broc had survived another meeting with Deirdre. Every time he was with her he expected her to reveal that she knew of his duplicity. It was a dangerous game he played, but one he had no choice but to take part in.

He had hoped to speak to Quinn privately the day before, but Isla had demanded to go along with him. The petite drough was one of Deirdre’s favorite tools in her bid for dominance of the world.

From what he had seen, Isla was a force to be reckoned with, which was why he didn’t try to dissuade her from accompanying him to the Pit. Deirdre may very well have sent Isla to spy on him as Deirdre was wont to do.

Broc had seen the careful way Isla had moved as she made her way down to the Pit. She had been punished by Deirdre, as they all had at one time or another. Deirdre liked to make sure everyone knew she could kill them any time she wanted.

As Broc walked through the corridors, his wings scraped the top of the ceiling. He hated being in the mountain. The freedom of an open sky, the taste of the air upon his body, that’s what he craved.

And Sonya.

His hands fisted as he thought of the Druid. Ramsey had told him Sonya was at MacLeod Castle, but Broc hadn’t been able to see for himself. He worried endlessly for her, and until he was free of Deirdre, both Sonya and her sister, Anice, would have to stay hidden.

Broc ignored the black-veiled servants who stood aside to let him pass. His mind, like always, was on Sonya. She didn’t know of him, didn’t know he had been the one to save her and her sister from slaughter when they were but infants. And he didn’t want her to know.

He forced Sonya to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Broc was on his way to see Quinn again. He had hoped Deirdre was still too angry to speak to Quinn, but she had heard of Quinn’s request to see her.

If there was time, Broc planned to let Quinn know his brothers were on their way. How soon they’d arrive, though, was the question. Broc had no doubt the MacLeod brothers would think of a way to get to the mountain without being captured. At least he hoped they did.

Broc paused in mid stride as he reached the stairway that veered off into different directions. He could turn to his right and go up the stairs toward Deirdre’s chambers, or he could go forward and take the steps that would lead to the Pit. However, it was the flight of stairs on his left that led deep into the bottom of the mountain from which he heard the unmistakable roar of a Warrior.

As far as Broc knew, there was no one being kept below, had never been anyone kept below. But it was obvious by the angry, lonesome roar he heard that someone had been put down there.

Broc decided he’d look for himself later. The more he knew what Deirdre had going on, the better for the MacLeods.

With a sigh, Broc took the stairs in front of him and proceeded to the Pit. There were always at least two guards posted outside the door. Broc always thought it was useless. The door was locked with black magic. It didn’t matter how strong a Warrior was, he wasn’t getting out of the Pit unless Deirdre wanted him out.

Broc greeted the guards and peered through the window of the door. The torches Deirdre allowed were scarce, but their red-orange flames helped to beat back the darkness. He found it amusing Deirdre had need of the torches to see when she was as powerful as she claimed to be.

Broc took a deep breath because things were about to get very interesting.

Quinn let his fingers run though the sable length of Marcail’s hair as he held her against his chest. He could feel her unease, knew that she was more scared than she wanted him to see. She was such a brave lass, a woman he would be proud to call his own. And would call his own if he were able.

Marcail lifted her head so that she looked at him. He gazed into her clear turquoise eyes and tried to memorize every inch of her face.

“I wish I could have met you before,” Quinn said. “You would have been good for my soul.”

“Just your soul?” she asked with a teasing grin.

He shook his head. “You have been good for me.”

“And you have been good for me.” Her brow furrowed for a moment. “Quinn, there is much that I would tell you of how I feel.”

He put his finger over her lips. If she told him she cared about him, he wouldn’t be able to leave her. Just thinking she had any feelings for him made his heart skip a beat.

Quinn kissed her. He let himself drown in her intoxicating taste. He wished, then, he had made love to her instead of standing guard. There were many ways Quinn wanted to enjoy her body, many ways he wanted to watch as she peaked and screamed his name.

Her arms wound around his neck and her fingers slid into his hair. He groaned and deepened the kiss, intent on having her one last time.

“Quinn!”

Both of their heads swiveled to the side. Quinn closed his eyes with regret. When he opened them, the fear he saw in Marcail’s depths ate away at his soul.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he vowed. “Just promise me you’ll stay hidden.”

She nodded woodenly. “Quinn, I…stay safe.”

He wondered what she had been about to say, but decided it was best if he didn’t know. “You as well.”

The hardest thing he had ever done was lowering his arms from her body and moving away from her. He stood to find Arran and Duncan waiting for him.

“We canna change your mind?” Duncan asked.

“Nay, my friend, you canna.”

Arran slapped him on the shoulder. “Doona let her take your soul.”

Quinn clasped Arran’s forearm before he did the same with Duncan’s. “Stay watchful,” he warned before he turned on his heel and walked to Broc.

Broc’s indigo Warrior eyes were trained on Quinn as he approached the door. When Quinn was a few steps from it, the door swung open and he stepped through it.

Quinn paused as the door banged shut behind him. Every fiber in his body wanted to turn around and take one last look at Marcail, but he didn’t dare. Not now, mayhap not ever again.

“Have you changed your mind?” Broc asked.

Was it Quinn’s imagination, or did Broc sound hopeful? “I have not.”

“Hm,” Broc said as his mouth flattened into a thin line. “Have you decided what boon you will ask?”

Quinn had thought of little else. “I have.”

“Then I will take you to Deirdre.”

He followed Broc through the hallways and up the stairways as they left the Pit behind. And yet, all Quinn could think about was Marcail, not the evil that awaited him. He should be concentrating on how he would fend off Deirdre for a day or two, not worrying if Marcail would be safe or not.

“You are preoccupied,” Broc said.

Quinn raised a brow. Broc hadn’t turned around once to look at him, so Quinn didn’t know how the winged Warrior knew what was going on with him. “I’d rather be taken to my own death than to Deirdre.”

“Then why do you go to her?” Broc halted and turned to face Quinn.

“I do it because I must.”

Broc lowered his gaze for a moment. “Are you sure about that, Quinn?”

“Why doona you tell me?” Quinn was in no mood for enigmatic words. “Do I have another choice?”

Broc shrugged. “You have insisted that your brothers will come for you.”

“And you’ve told me Deirdre sent wyrran to slow them down. Tell me, Broc, does Deirdre already have my brothers?”

“Nay,” Broc answered. “She intends to once you have agreed to give her the child of the prophecy.”

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with everything. “Why canna she be content with me?”

“Because when the three of you fight as one, you are unstoppable.”

And that’s when Quinn realized how futile his efforts had been. It wouldn’t matter how long he stood against Deirdre. She would have what she wanted no matter how long it took her to gain it.

Quinn thought of Cara and how she and Lucan looked at each other. Just as Quinn’s parents had done. He didn’t want Lucan to lose the one woman who had captured his heart.

“You have to go to her now,” Broc said, his voice lowered.

Quinn looked at the dark blue Warrior with suspicion. “Why?”

“Because you’ve asked to see her. She expects you to comply. You must, Quinn. Your brothers are coming, but you need to give them some time.”

Quinn took a step back from the Warrior. “What are you trying to do?”

Broc cursed under his breath and moved closer to Quinn. “What do you think? I’m risking everything just by speaking with you.”

“You expect me to believe you’ve sided with my brothers? I doona believe that any more than I do the absurdity of whatever destiny Deirdre thinks I have.”

“Then you are a greater idiot than I thought. Follow me, MacLeod.”

Quinn was grateful when Broc continued onward. He couldn’t stand to hear another word Broc said, not when it inspired hope to flare in his chest, hope that he knew would be dashed as soon as he realized he’d been played for a fool.

He prayed he could go through with everything. Just looking at Deirdre was a chore, and the thought of bedding her turned his stomach.

Holy Hell. What am I going to do?

He’d do whatever he must for his brothers, Marcail, and the men who relied on him. Even if it meant sacrificing his soul to Deirdre, he would do it.

Broc halted outside a door and motioned for Quinn to proceed. Quinn glanced at the Warrior, but Broc wouldn’t look at him. Quinn pushed the door open and found himself once more in Deirdre’s chamber.

The last time he had been here he found himself naked in her bed. He wondered what she had done with him while he had been unconscious, but he hadn’t allowed his mind to dwell on it too long for fear of discovering what she had done.

Deirdre stood in the doorway to her bedchamber, her white hair touching the floor. She wore her normal black gown with material that hugged her shape.

“I was told you wished to speak with me?” she said with a knowing smile.

He nodded and folded his arms over his chest. “I did. I wonder, Deirdre, if you know all that William has been doing in your name.”

In an instant her smile was gone. She took a deep breath and narrowed her white eyes at him. “Explain yourself.”

“I asked to see you mere hours after you had taken Ian. William came for me, but refused to allow me to speak to you. Instead, he made me watch as they tortured Ian.”

“William wouldn’t bring you to me?”

He almost smiled at the anger that shook her voice. “Nay.”

“Get me William,” she commanded Broc.

Quinn glanced over his shoulder to find Broc watching him, a small smile upon his face, almost as if he approved at what Quinn had just done.

“William tells me you favor him over any other,” Quinn said after Broc had left to do Deirdre’s bidding.

She waved away his words. “William likes to be in command. I give him a little power every now and again.”

“To keep him in line?” Quinn asked. “Is your hold so tenuous that you must resort to such petty methods?”

Her lips thinned in anger. “You dare to question me?”

“I do.”

“I will show you just how powerful I am in this game you and I play, Quinn. Afterward, you will realize how fruitless it is to deny me anything.”

He snorted. “I doubt it.”

She opened her mouth to retort when William strode through the door with all the cocky confidence of one who had gotten all he desired.

“You wanted to see me, mistress,” he said. Then he caught sight of Quinn and that confidence faltered.

Quinn slowly smiled. He wanted William to suffer, because had Quinn been able to talk to Deirdre, Ian wouldn’t have been tortured.

Deirdre stepped in front of William and ran her hand down his bare chest to his breeches in an intimate caress. “Tell me, my dear William, did Quinn ask to see me before now?”

William looked from Quinn to Deirdre. “You said you didna want to be disturbed.”

“By everyone else, but you knew I was waiting to hear from Quinn. Didn’t you?” she said as she reached down and grabbed hold of his balls.

William winced as Deirdre squeezed. “Nay, mistress.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Deirdre said between clenched teeth.

William’s chin lowered to his chest. “I doona want to share you.”

With a snarl, Deidre shoved William away from her. “Because of you a day has been wasted. You will be punished.”

“As you wish,” William murmured.

Quinn was surprised when Deirdre turned her unholy white eyes to him.

“How should he be punished?” she asked.

The answer was easy for Quinn. “I want him to suffer just as Ian suffered. Every hit, every cut, every bite of the whip, I want William to feel. And lest we forget, pull out his claws as well.”

William growled, his lip curling in anger. Quinn lowered his arms, ready to fight him, but Deirdre stepped between them. Instantly, William calmed.

Quinn rolled his eyes at how easily William did as she bade. He didn’t even balk at being dragged away by two guards. Quinn knew that one day he would kill the Warrior, and he would enjoy it immensely.

“Now,” Deirdre said, gaining his attention. “It’s time you followed me.”

As much as Quinn didn’t want to be around her, he needed to know everything he could so he could tell his brothers and they could kill the evil bitch.

Deirdre didn’t say a word as she led him out of her chamber and down several hallways until they came to an archway that held a set of double doors.

The doors swung open as Deirdre neared. Quinn stepped over the threshold and looked in revulsion and wonder at the woman that hovered over the floor, surrounded by onyx flames.

“Isn’t she magnificent?” Deirdre asked.

Quinn wasn’t sure what he was looking at. “Who is she?”

“She was a Druid, a mie, who had the special gift of being a seer.”

“As in seeing into the future?”

Deirdre shrugged. “Of sorts.”

“And you are using her ability?”

“Of course.”

Quinn moved closer to the woman. Her eyes were open, but they stared unseeing at the opposite wall. Her long, black hair floated around her as if she were in water, and her gown proved that she had been held for several centuries, if not longer.

There was something about the woman that looked familiar, as if he had seen her before. She was young, her skin fair and unblemished. Her arms hung by her sides while the black flames, which almost didn’t look real, licked at her skin.

Quinn lifted his hand to touch the fire.

“Don’t,” Deirdre warned.

Quinn jerked his gaze to Deirdre. “What are the flames?”

“My magic, Quinn. Strong magic. It holds her in a state of being so that I may use her seer abilities to my advantage while keeping her alive as long as I want.”

He was disgusted with how little Deirdre valued life. “How long have you had her?”

Deirdre smiled. “Not nearly long enough. Does she look familiar to you?”

“She does,” he admitted carefully.

“She is Lavena, Isla’s sister. I imprisoned both of them as well as Lavena’s daughter years ago.”

Quinn ground his teeth at the mention of the child. “And what has become of the child?”

A door opened suddenly and in walked a child with hair so black it shone blue, just as Isla’s and her mother’s did. Ice-cold blue eyes stared at Quinn.

“I thought you said you took them years ago,” Quinn said as he stared at the child of no more than eight.

Deirdre nodded. “I did. Grania will stay this age forever.”

Quinn glanced at the child and saw the same malice in her that he did in Deirdre. He was going to have to use the cunning his father had always commended him on very carefully if he was going to survive the evil around him.