“Quinn is holding out hope of his brothers’ arrival,” Deirdre said. “I want to be able to give him proof that Lucan and Fallon have either been caught or won’t be coming for him.”
Broc lifted a shoulder. “You’ve sent wyrran to stop the brothers.”
“Ah, but Lucan and Fallon have outsmarted my pets. For the moment.”
“Then let me find the MacLeods,” Broc said. “You know I can track anything anywhere. I will find them for you.”
Deirdre considered his words. “Can you trap them?”
“That will take more planning. If you want something done now, I can ensure that they are…occupied with wyrran until Quinn agrees to your terms.”
Isla didn’t like the feeling that swirled cacophonously in her stomach at Broc’s words. For years Isla hated the MacLeods because the scroll Deirdre had found had named them. Because of that one surname, Isla’s life had been taken away from her.
She hated the MacLeods, hated all Warriors, in truth, but more than anything she wanted her freedom. She was tired of being used as Deirdre’s puppet.
“I have another weapon,” Deirdre said, her white eyes flashing dangerously, and turned to Isla.
Isla met Deirdre’s gaze without blinking. To show any fear or weakness would ensure her doom.
“Nay,” Broc said into the silence. “Not yet, mistress. Let me detain Fallon and Lucan. Once Quinn breaks, we can capture the brothers. They’ll see Quinn has chosen you and they will no longer deny you rule them.”
Isla’s eyes jerked to Broc, but the Warrior refused to look at her. Why didn’t he want Deirdre to send her? They could capture the brothers, but why then did Broc want to wait? Was he thinking of siding with the MacLeods?
She wanted to talk to him, but Isla knew she couldn’t chance it, and neither could Broc. If Deirdre suspected anything, they would be killed instantly.
“I will agree for the moment, Broc,” Deirdre said and ran her hand down the black material of her gown. “But only because I want to keep the brothers from reaching Quinn just yet. I do want all three MacLeod brothers under my rule before the moon has finished its cycle this month.”
Broc bowed his head. “I will see it done, mistress.”
“You may leave us.”
Isla waited as Broc left the chamber before she turned to Deirdre. There was no use asking the
“It’s time for you to visit him again.”
Isla jerked even though she tried hard not to. Every time she saw Phelan she remembered she had been the one to deceive him, the one to chain him in the mountain as a child.
To fight Deirdre or try to talk her way out of it would only let Deirdre know how much Isla hated visiting Phelan in any fashion. Instead, Isla merely gave a nod of her head.
“I’m told you are the only one that can approach him.”
Isla lifted a brow. “No one can approach him, which is why he is chained.”
“He is going to be one of my greatest Warriors. I still celebrate the day your sister discovered him. And let’s not forget how you captured him.”
Isla fisted her hand in her skirt as her stomach rolled. She would never forget that day. She relived it every night in her nightmares.
Deirdre walked to the door and paused. “Stay with him longer this time. It won’t be long now before I will have need of him. He has to be tamed.”
To say Quinn was worried was putting it mildly. It wasn’t just Duncan and Ian or Marcail, either, it was his brothers.
It was true Quinn had lost track of time in the mountain, but he knew a considerable amount had passed. Where were Lucan and Fallon? Why hadn’t they come for him?
Or worse, had they tried to rescue him and Deirdre had them?
That thought made Quinn want to kill something. He breathed through his mouth to calm his rage while ignoring his god.
It just took one look at Marcail for his fury to disappear while his desire flared to life. She sat on the floor, her head to the side as all her hair draped over one shoulder, and combed out the back of her hair with her fingers.
He could sit and watch her for hours. The way she moved and spoke and did everything fascinated him. The fact she was not only unafraid of him but seemed to like his Warrior form by the way she kissed him earlier had made him want her all the more.
She amazed him at every turn. Marcail had courage and spirit and strength that rivaled his brothers’. She was what every Highlander looked for in a mate.
Quinn’s view of Marcail was blocked by Arran when he walked into the cave. Quinn turned his attention to Arran, who paced in front of him.
“What are they going to do to Ian?” Arran asked.
Quinn ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Deirdre told you what they would do. They will make him suffer.”
“Will she kill him?”
“Only so she can bring him back.”
Arran halted and turned a concerned face to Quinn. “Can she really do that?”
“I have no idea, but with the power she holds, it wouldna surprise me.”
Arran blew out a long breath. “How long will she keep it up?”
“I can end it before it begins, Arran. It’s what I should do. She is only hurting Ian to hurt me.”
“You canna, Quinn. We need you.”
“And Duncan needs his brother.”
“Quinn—”
Quinn held up a hand to stop him. “I know what you would say, and I thank you for it. The simple truth is my brothers are better men than I am. They can — and will — destroy Deirdre with or without me.”
“You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you? You’re going to go to that bitch.”
“I am.”
“And Marcail?”
Quinn tried, and failed, not to look at the Druid in question. He was going to miss her. He wanted one night of loving her, of tasting her kisses and feeling her heated touch, but it was one night he couldn’t allow himself.
There was a man going through torture because of him. Quinn couldn’t live with himself if he allowed that.
“Take care of her for me,” Quinn said.
“You arna going to tell her farewell?”
He should, he knew it. “I canna.”
Quinn moved past Arran before he could stop him and walked to the doorway of the Pit. Though Deirdre warded the door with her spells and magic, there were always Warriors standing guard.
Quinn stopped at the door and whistled to get the guards’ attention. “Take me to Deirdre.”
The Warrior on the left began to laugh. “She said you would want to see her. We’re to relay a message to you.”
“And what would that message be?”
“That she’s busy torturing Ian, and that you shouldn’t have refused her.”
Quinn cursed and turned on his heel. He hadn’t expected that move from Deirdre. She wanted him, aye, but he had infuriated her. Now Ian would pay for it with torture that would likely last for days if not weeks.
Once back in his cave Ian leaned against the stone wall and stared up into the darkness. “Holy Hell,” he ground out.
“She wouldna see you?” Arran asked.
“Nay. She said she’s too busy torturing Ian.”
“Shite. What are you going to do now?”
