Highlands as he normally did on nights when he couldn’t face himself.
He would run, the wind stinging his eyes, as he gave in to his primal urges and forgot the man he was.
He cursed Deirdre and her wyrran who had taken away his life and his family. Elspeth had been pure and sweet, shy to everyone except him. With him, she had opened up and let him see how much love she had to give. With him, she had shown him a simple life of happiness and harmony.
She had loved him deeply. In her own way. How many nights had he drifted off to sleep with her in his arms only to hear her whisper that she loved him, that he was her everything?
Quinn had never told her he loved her. Elspeth hadn’t seemed to expect it or want it. Now he wondered if she had been hoping and waiting for him to say the words or if he had just thought she didn’t need them.
The idea that she had suffered, that he hadn’t made it before she died, only made the ache inside him burn deeper. After all these years, he still felt the loss of her and his son, a son he would never teach to shoot a bow and arrow, never teach to ride a horse, never teach how to wield a sword.
Resentment blazed through him. He would make Deirdre pay. She would die slowly by his hands for all the heartache she had caused in her thirst for dominance. He would see the life drain from her face, see her blood pool on the ground just as Elspeth’s had.
Lucan had taken first watch, and Fallon was inside the castle with his wine. Quinn couldn’t stay in the castle as Lucan and Fallon did. There were too many memories around every corner that drove his rage higher each day.
It wouldn’t be much longer before the god inside Quinn took over completely. He would be gone. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He had suffered too much, endured too much, to want to go on. Knowing he was immortal only made the days more unbearable.
It was one of the reasons he took such risks. Neither of his brothers said anything because they understood. But they didn’t feel the pain as he did. They hadn’t lost a wife and a son. They hadn’t lost their entire life.
Quinn’s head jerked as his ears picked up a sound. Deer. He reached for his bow and arrow that he kept near the castle door and moved into the shadows.
The brothers didn’t hunt often for fear of being seen, but with Angus no longer around to bring them food, hunting was a necessity now.
Quinn smiled. He wouldn’t be running the Highlands, but he would be hunting a worthy prey.
* * *
Lucan sat atop a crumbling tower on the left front of the castle. It wasn’t the highest tower, but it afforded a good view of the MacClure village. Not to mention, it gave Lucan a vantage point if any more Warriors decided to attack.
They wouldn’t, not tonight. But soon.
Lucan shifted on the rocks and spotted a buck near the cliffs. He tensed, wondering if he should get his bow. They were going to need food, and killing a buck with his claws was too messy. Even Quinn, when he hunted, chose to use his bow. It allowed them to keep their bodies active, which was why they continued to train with their swords.
Just as he was about to retrieve his bow, Lucan saw movement in a shadow outside the castle wall. A moment later, Quinn drew back his bow and let an arrow fly, finding the mark in the buck’s neck. Quinn was next to the deer before it had collapsed.
Lucan watched his younger brother. He missed the days of laughter and teasing with his brothers. If there was any way to help Quinn with the pain he carried, Lucan would gladly do it. But Quinn never spoke of Elspeth. He never even said his son’s name.
Lucan ached for Quinn, just as he ached for Fallon. There was only so much Lucan could do for both, and it wasn’t enough. He was losing his brothers, had been losing them for some time now, and he was powerless to stop it. Nothing he did, nothing he said, helped them.
He rubbed his jaw and jerked when he saw a flicker of a flame in the village. A glance toward Quinn told Lucan his brother had also seen something. Quinn jumped over the side of the cliff to the rocks below, the buck flung over his shoulders.
Lucan shifted to his feet, his knees bent and his hands on the stones. Quinn would get safely back in the castle to alert Fallon.
With his ears straining over the roar of the sea, Lucan listened for sounds from the village. He heard the stamp of a horse’s hoof, the cough of a man, but how many he didn’t know.
Lucan glanced around the castle to make sure there was nothing that would cause the men to come there. When Lucan saw the light from Cara’s window he froze. It was far enough back that it would be difficult to see from the village, but not impossible. It was a risk they couldn’t take.
Lucan jumped from the edge of the tower to the stairs below. He had always hated the narrow, curving staircase, and now most of the top of the tower crumbling on the stairs made them even more difficult to tread.
He kept his hand on the walls as he raced down the stairs to the corridor. When he stopped at the doorway to his chamber, he prayed Cara was asleep. Her fear of the dark would never let her allow him to extinguish the candles and the fire.
Candle by candle, he snuffed out the flames with his thumb and forefinger until there was only one left. He couldn’t help but look at Cara then. She was on her side facing away from him, her curves outlined by the blanket that hugged her body. Her braid fell across the pillow with tendrils of hair curling around her ears and neck.
With the last candle doused, he turned to the fire. Thankfully, all the wood had already burned and only the embers were left. He quickly covered them and strode to the door.
Only to halt midstride when Cara turned over.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cara sighed and snuggled beneath the blanket. She had been having a delicious dream where Lucan was in her chamber watching her sleep, his sea green eyes filled with heat, with need . . . with hunger.
She wasn’t sure what woke her, but as she turned onto her back and saw the chamber was cloaked in darkness, she flung off the covers. Panic wrapped its iron manacles around her, turning her blood to ice and causing her heart to pound in her chest.
A startled cry passed from her lips when she saw that not even an ember burned in the hearth. For a moment she could only stare at the candles, her eyes filling with tears. The candles didn’t burn out and neither had a gust of wind blown them out. Nay, someone had extinguished them.
It was too dark, too still. Anything could be in the chamber. One of the Warriors or even a wyrran. The prospect sent a shiver down her spine. Either she could sit in the bed and wonder or she could light the candles again.
She started to rise from the bed when something heavy and solid landed on top of her, trapping her against the straw mattress. She fought whatever it was, raking her fingernails down his arm, hitting him, and even trying to bite him.
She could hear a voice but couldn’t make out the words. And she didn’t want to. There was no way the monster on top of her was going to kill her without a fight. She kicked and opened her mouth to scream for Lucan.
Suddenly a hand captured her wrists, jerking them over her head while another hand clamped over her mouth. She stilled, fear clawing at her belly. He leaned close, his breath against her neck. She turned her face away and closed her eyes.
“It’s me, Cara. It’s Lucan.”
She sagged into the bed, relief flooding her. He removed his hand, his fingers brushing her lips in a soft caress. Cara became aware of his body between her legs, his hard arousal against her sex.
