Wicked Highlander

Twenty-nine

Quinn stared at the stone wall in front of him. He hadn’t risen from the foot of Deirdre’s bed since he’d learned she knew of Marcail.

All he could think about was Marcail and her extraordinary, striking turquoise eyes and her small braids that framed her face and were held together by gold bands. He could still taste the sweet innocence of her kiss, still feel the way her arms locked around him, and how he was the first to awaken the desires in her body.

He had thought she would be safe in the Pit until he could free her and his men. How had he been so wrong? Who had told Deirdre?

And then he knew. Charon.

The copper-skinned bastard would pay for putting Marcail’s life in danger, of that Quinn vowed. He would enjoy making Charon suffer long and repeatedly.

Quinn raked his hands through his hair as he hung his head to his chest. Deirdre had left him in her chambers, locked he was sure. She hadn’t said anything, just turned and left when one of the wyrran whispered something in her ear. He wasn’t sure if Deirdre would release Marcail as he’d asked or not.

Maybe he could talk Deirdre out of killing her. At least if Marcail was somewhere in the mountain he would be able to reach her somehow.

But he knew Deirdre wouldn’t be satisfied until Marcail was dead. Deirdre was too spiteful to do anything else.

Quinn didn’t think he could hate Deirdre more, but it seemed he was wrong. He was angry, aye, but the sadness over losing Marcail outweighed the fury.

He looked down at his hands. No claws were visible, and his skin held no hint of blackness at all. It was almost as if the god was no longer inside him.

The door to the chamber flew open. Quinn didn’t turn to look at Deirdre. He could feel her black magic and the evil inside her.

“Marcail is waiting,” Deirdre said. “She’s most insistent upon leaving my mountain. I don’t understand how anyone could want to leave this beautiful place.”

Quinn didn’t bother to reply. He rose and faced Deirdre, thankful that Marcail would be able to leave. “Take me to her.”

Deirdre raised a white brow. “Don’t try to talk to her, Quinn. I’m allowing you to see her off. That should be good enough.”

It wasn’t, but if he complained, Deirdre was likely to keep him in the chamber. “Take me to her,” he repeated.

Deirdre turned and walked from the room. Quinn followed, uncaring of the stairwells and doorways he passed. His attention was focused all on Marcail.

When he caught sight of her, it was like a burst of sunlight upon his face. She was so beautiful. He simply stared at the petite woman with her full curves that had captured his attention so quickly.

He wanted to walk to Marcail and pick up one of her braids, which always fell in her face. He wanted to lean down and inhale the sunshine-and-rain scent that was hers alone. But he would have to be content simply to see her.

Marcail’s turquoise eyes met his. She gave him a small smile before she followed the wyrran up a set of stairs to a door that stood open.

Quinn stepped back and ran into one of Deirdre’s servants. She gasped, and Quinn murmured an apology. He was lost in Marcail’s scent, a smell he knew he would never enjoy again.

He didn’t look at the servant, not when Marcail was about to be lost to him forever. As soon as Marcail was through the door, Quinn took the stairs three at a time and stood in the doorway.

“I told you I would release her,” Deirdre said as she came to stand beside him.

Quinn nodded and watched Marcail pick her way down the treacherous mountain and its snow. “So you did.”

“Are you ready to keep your word?”

He sighed and turned his head to her. “I am.”

“Good. Return to my chamber and await me. I have some…unfinished business I must attend to first.”

Quinn walked down the stairs and past the servant he had stepped on. She didn’t bow her head as the others did, and he couldn’t help but feel as if she stared at him.

Everything in Deirdre’s mountain was strange, so he didn’t think too much about the servant. He returned to Deirdre’s chamber and his seat upon the bed.

He should be elated that Marcail had her freedom, but his chest still felt heavy. His brothers would be left alone, and Marcail was out of the mountain. Was it because his men were still locked away? It had to be, Quinn surmised. He’d gotten almost everything he wanted from Deirdre.

Now, the most difficult part stood in front of him.

Larena ran as fast as she could down the corridor. Ramsey had been right, it was decidedly too easy to get into Cairn Toul Mountain.

Once she had gotten inside at the base of the mountain, Larena had stood and listened to the Warriors. She heard them speak of a Druid that had somehow gotten free of Broc.

Larena wondered if the Druid really had broken free or if Broc had helped her. If this was the same woman Quinn had aided, then it stood to reason Broc was aiding her. Larena just hoped the Druid was able to stay out of Deirdre’s path and get free.

As much as Larena wanted to help the woman, her first priority was Quinn. The thought of returning to Fallon and Lucan to tell them she hadn’t saved Quinn was something she refused to do. If along the way she was able to help Marcail or anyone else, then Larena would do it.

She slowed and came to a halt as a group of Warriors came toward her. They couldn’t see her, but if she didn’t get out of the way, they would bump into her.

Larena opened the first door she came to and stepped inside. The chamber was empty, though dried blood littered the stones at her feet.

As the Warriors passed her she heard Quinn’s name mentioned. She slipped out of the chamber and followed the Warriors long enough to learn that Deirdre had convinced Quinn to turn to her side.

The news was going to break Fallon’s heart. Larena shook her head, still determined to find Quinn and see for herself.

She turned and retraced her steps. Ramsey and Galen had told her she would likely find Quinn in Deirdre’s chambers if he was no longer being held as a prisoner. And after hearing the Warriors, it was obvious Quinn wasn’t in the dungeons any more.

Once she found Quinn, then the real danger would begin. In order to speak to him, he would have to be alone. Since he didn’t know of her, there was a chance he wouldn’t believe her. But she had something that would make him believe.

Deirdre tapped her long nails on the rock wall. Quinn had believed he saw Marcail leave the mountain when in fact it was nothing more than magic — black magic. Had he tried to speak to Marcail, he would have realized it wasn’t her.

Where the little bitch of a mie was, however, was what put Deirdre’s anger high and kept her from finding Quinn so she could finally have his body all to herself.

“You’ve not found her?” Deirdre asked Broc.

The winged Warrior shook his head. “She was beaten down and knew her time of hiding was up. I didna expect her to make a run for it.”

“You know I will reprimand you for this. Severely.”

Broc bowed his head. “I expected no less.”

“Did you use your god, Broc?” Deirdre asked.

He gave a single nod. “She’s still in the mountain.”

“But you can find anyone.”

His indigo Warrior eyes narrowed a fraction. “I’ve not failed you before. I willna fail you this time.”

She wasn’t fooled by his humility. Inside Broc simmered a vengeful nature that she had thus far contained. How much longer she would have control over him she didn’t know. But she would make sure she held him for as long as she wanted.

“You will help William and the others. I want this mountain searched from top to bottom. She’s not made it out, and if I have anything to say about it, she won’t.”

“Aye, mistress,” William said from beside Broc before they left.

William was still recovering from the torture Quinn had demanded, but William was always willing to serve.

Deirdre turned to give orders to the servant she had seen standing near them only to find the female gone.

“Where is the servant that was just here?” she asked the remaining Warriors.

A wyrran tugged on her skirt and pointed toward her chamber.

Deirdre’s gaze narrowed. She petted the wyrran’s head and started toward her chamber. She spotted the servant paused outside the door to her rooms. Deirdre came up behind her and ripped the veil from her head.

Instead of short hair, Deirdre saw sable hair tucked into the back of a gown. Marcail whirled around, the braids at the top and sides of her head spinning with her.

“You cannot stay away from him, can you?” Deirdre asked her. “You might have gotten away had you forgotten Quinn.”

“I could never forget him,” Marcail said through clenched teeth.

Deirdre laughed. “And that, my dear, will be your downfall. I have something special planned for you.”

With a snap of her fingers Warriors surrounded Marcail. Deirdre looked the Druid up and down. She didn’t know what had caught Quinn’s attention, but as far as he knew Marcail was long gone. And she was going to make sure he never thought otherwise.

“Take her to the chamber to prepare,” Deirdre commanded them.

As much as Deirdre wanted to go to Quinn, she needed to take care of Marcail first. If Quinn ever discovered she had deceived him, he would never bed her and give her the child she needed.

Deirdre followed her Warriors as they led Marcail farther and farther from Quinn. Deirdre rubbed her hands together. She might not be able to kill Marcail, but she could do the next best thing.

The Warriors shoved Marcail into the chamber so that she fell to her hands and knees. Deirdre smelled her blood and magic and smiled.

“This is where I kill Druids.”

Marcail got to her feet and met her gaze. “You cannot kill me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“If you could, you would have already done it when I was first brought to the mountain. Instead, you tossed me into the Pit hoping one of the Warriors there would do the deed. And suffer the consequences of my grandmother’s spells.”

Deirdre shrugged. “I suppose there is no point in denying anything now. Nay, Marcail, I’m not going to kill you. You see, your grandmother was a powerful Druid.”

“I know,” Marcail said.

Deirdre ignored the interruption. “She knew there was a chance I would capture you, so she made sure to cast protection spells over you. They are many and are powerful enough that if you are killed, the person responsible will die a horrible death.”

“It’s too bad you learned of the protections then,” Marcail said. “My death is nothing if it would bring about your own.”

“Ah, but you are a brave one,” Deirdre said. “Is it really courage, or fear so great it is either stand up to me or crumple at my feet begging for mercy?”

Marcail rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen what your black magic can do. I know how effortlessly you take someone’s life. At one time I feared you, but you’ve shown that even with your power, you have a weakness.”

“I have no weakness.”

A slow smile spread over Marcail’s face. “But you do. You want the child of prophecy. How long have you waited, Deirdre? Has your womb grown cold and hollow? Can your body even sustain life?”

Deirdre reached out and slapped Marcail before she could think better of it. The Druid’s head jerked to the side with the force of the blow. Deirdre smiled at having put Marcail in her place. Until she heard the Druid laughing.

“Is that the best you can do?” Marcail asked as she touched her lip, which now bled.

Deirdre opened her mouth to respond when a vicious sting sliced through her. It was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt, and she knew in that instant it was the protections guarding Marcail.

Deirdre closed her eyes to battle the throbbing, but Marcail’s laughter only grew. For many moments Deirdre could do nothing but stand and combat the agony that filled her body. It was like hundreds of tiny blades piercing and slicing her skin.

And if it wasn’t for her magic holding most of it at bay, it would have brought her to her knees. When she was finally able to withstand the pain, Deirdre opened her eyes to see Marcail smirking at her.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, because where you are going, there will be nothing. Grab her,” Deirdre yelled.