taken his ease with had been in the dark where they couldn’t see him, and he had never wanted to hold them.
With Marcail it was different. But then much had changed since Deirdre had captured him. He was able to manage his god now, something he hadn’t been able to do in hundreds of years. Quinn couldn’t wait to tell his brothers.
Marcail nestled more comfortably against him. Quinn smiled and let himself enjoy the small moment. By the growls, the fight between the Warriors had broken out. Soon, the smell of blood and death would fill the Pit.
The ever present rats were moving closer to the brawl, hoping to find something to eat. Quinn sensed when one reached the entry to his cave and began to move inside.
The rat immediately moved away from the cave. Quinn had learned of his power only when he had awakened in Deirdre’s dungeon. All those years and he’d had no idea of the power he’d held. For three centuries he hadn’t developed that power or learned to use it.
How he regretted the fury that had run his life. He would do so many things differently if he could. But there was no going back and reliving the past. There was only the future.
And that looked bleak.
Six
Quinn snapped his eyes open. He hadn’t let himself drift off that deeply since being thrown in the Pit. Anything could have happened to him…or to Marcail.
He looked down to find the Druid half lying in his arms. Her head must have slid off his shoulder while he dozed. Thankfully, he had fit her in his arms and her face against his chest.
Her lips were parted as she slept, his arm supporting her head while her hair draped over his arm and legs. Quinn could honestly say he had never seen a more beautiful woman in all his days.
There was a purity about Marcail that shone for everyone to see. But there was strength there as well. Marcail had been intelligent enough to run and lead Dunmore and the wyrran from her village. She had saved countless lives by doing so. It had taken much courage, courage Quinn hadn’t expected from a woman.
Unable to stop himself, Quinn lifted his free hand and ran the back of his fingers over the smooth skin of Marcail’s cheek. His hand shook with the need, the hunger, to touch more of her.
Even knowing he wasn’t good enough for her didn’t stop the yearning to know her as only a man could. He wanted to kiss, to lick every inch of her body.
His rod throbbed. It was made worse by the feel of her in his arms. Three hundred years was a long time not to feel the softness of a woman as he was now.
Quinn’s gaze fastened on Marcail’s mouth. Such a luscious, decadent mouth. Her lips were full, wide, and delectable. He knew they would taste heavenly, and that one kiss would never be enough.
He lowered his head before he realized what he was doing. Just before his lips touched hers, he managed to stop himself. What would she think when she woke to find him kissing her?
Quinn didn’t want to find out. She looked at him with trust in her gorgeous turquoise eyes. He didn’t want that to change.
His free hand brought a lock of her hair to his nose. Quinn breathed in the scent that was hers alone. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. With a tilt of his head, he fit his face against her neck and drowned in the sunshine and rain fragrance. He could still smell the sun on her skin.
Slowly, he lifted his head, afraid she would wake. And afraid she wouldn’t.
Her eyelids lifted, and he found himself gazing into her eyes. For several heartbeats they didn’t move, didn’t speak. Quinn realized he still held a lock of her hair in his grasp, but he couldn’t seem to let go.
“I didn’t mean for you to become my bed.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, soft and seductive.
Quinn’s balls tightened in response. “It was my pleasure.”
Her lips tilted into a smile. “You don’t stay in your god form as the others do. Why?”
“Because it’s what Deirdre wants. I’m very close to my god taking control of me. If that happens, I’m hers.”
Marcail’s hand cupped his cheek and her brow furrowed. “You take a grave chance by allowing your god loose.”
“I owe it to my brothers.”
“And to yourself?” she asked.
He began to shake his head no when her thumb brushed his lips.
“Don’t you dare tell me nay.” She sat up and put her face close to his. “You can beat whatever Deirdre tries to use to lure you or trap you. I’ve heard tales of you and your brothers my entire life, Quinn. You were the three who have outwitted her for hundreds of years.”
Quinn closed his eyes against her words. He couldn’t move, not with her hand on him, but he didn’t want to hear her words. She didn’t know the true him, the person who had disgraced his brothers and put their plan in jeopardy.
No one wanted to know that person — not even Quinn.
“You doona know what you’re saying,” Quinn finally said. “There are things about me you doona know.”
“No one is perfect, Quinn MacLeod. You need to realize that before it’s too late.”
Before he could respond, she was gone. Her touch, her heat…vanished. Quinn felt bereft, as if he had been shown a glimpse of heaven for those few moments she was in his arms.
But when he opened his eyes, he was still in Hell.
He found Marcail at the water that collected in a hollowed-out stone. She drank her fill, then splashed the water on her face.
Quinn wanted to go to her, but he had nothing to say. He wasn’t about to tell her who he really was. She was one of the few people who saw him as he wanted to be.
Odd that he had recognized that so quickly. Maybe it was because she claimed the MacLeods would save her, and he wanted to be the one who did it. For whatever reason, when she was near, she made him want to be the man he saw in her eyes.
Lucan MacLeod washed the blood from his tunic in the loch and draped the tunic over a tree limb to dry. For the third time in two days they had been attacked by wyrran.
“There will be more attacks,” Ramsey said.
Lucan looked to the calm, reserved Warrior. Ramsey was the one who listened, formed his opinions, and then spoke. So, when he stated something, it was to everyone’s benefit to take notice.
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.
