Quinn inhaled deeply, feeling better after having Arran’s vow. He didn’t know how much time he had left with Marcail, but he imagined it wouldn’t be long. Deirdre had made her point yesterday, but she wanted Quinn badly enough to grant his audience before too long.
The sounds from the Pit door told him their morning meal had arrived. Quinn transformed and strode from the chamber. When he reached the door he found Isla standing beyond it.
“Have you come for me?” he asked the
She raised a black brow and regarded him with her ice-blue eyes. She was as petite as Marcail, but her cool demeanor made her seem taller, deadlier. “I have not.”
“Shite,” Quinn murmured and curled his claws into his palms.
“What is it you want, Quinn MacLeod?”
He leaned his face into the open square and growled. “You know I want to stop her torture of Ian.”
“Her anger is slow to cool.”
“Why are you here?” Quinn demanded.
She lifted a slender shoulder. “I’ve come to watch them hand out the bread and see if any have realized they would rather serve Deirdre than spend another moment in the Pit.”
“I have,” a voice called from behind Quinn.
He turned to find a Warrior with yellow-orange skin move out of the shadows. Quinn remembered battling the Warrior his first day there, but he hadn’t seen the Warrior in weeks.
“Come,” Isla said and bade a guard to open the door. She waited for the yellow-orange Warrior to move past her before she glanced at Quinn once more and walked away.
Quinn grabbed his bread and let his claws cut all the way through it. He was torn between anger at Deirdre for making him wait and fury at having another Warrior turn to her side.
When he reached his cave, Marcail awaited him. She touched his arm and said, “She still won’t see you?”
“Nay.” Quinn gave Marcail her share of bread. “I didna expect her to make me wait. Isla said she is very angry, and if that’s the case, she will take it out on Ian repeatedly.”
“She’s liable to do the same to you.”
Quinn doubted it. “She wants a child by me too much to risk me saying nay. She won’t torture me, not in the way she’s torturing Ian at least.”
“Do you think she will capture your brothers?”
“How do I know she hasn’t already?”
Marcail’s brow furrowed as she chewed. “Wouldn’t you have heard it from Deirdre herself? I would think she would want to gloat and use them as pawns to get you to do whatever it is she has planned for you.”
“You could be right. As much as I fear my brothers not coming for me, I know in my heart they will. I’ve gotten Arran’s vow to go with them when they escape. I want that same vow from you.”
“What about you?”
He fingered a braid that had fallen over her eyes. “I’m going to be the one who ensures you all get away.”
“You’re staying behind?”
“I am.”
Her beautiful turquoise eyes grew troubled. “You cannot stay.”
“I’ve thought about it all night, Marcail. Someone needs to stay and make sure Deirdre doesn’t get all that she covets. I will be that someone. I canna do that if I’m worried about my brothers, you, or the Warriors who have given me their allegiance.”
Her gaze dropped to her lap where she stared at her half-eaten bread. “You ask too much, Quinn. I don’t think I will be able to leave you here with her.”
“You have to. My brothers will keep you safe. You will be with another Druid and surrounded by Warriors who want nothing more than Deirdre’s death.”
When Marcail didn’t respond, Quinn put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to his. “Please. You have the spell somewhere in your mind to end all of this. You are needed.”
Marcail didn’t like the feeling churning in her stomach. The thought of Quinn not only going of his own free will to Deirdre, but staying behind and appearing to align himself with her made Marcail ill. He was chancing so much, but then again, she understood why.
“Fallon and Lucan won’t be happy about your decision. They’ll most likely return for you.”
Quinn nodded and set aside his bread to grip her shoulders. “That’s why I need you to make them understand. You and Arran need to tell them everything I willna be able to. Tell them I’m doing it for our parents, our clan. Tell them I’m doing it for them. I owe them so much.”
“I will tell them,” she said.
He dropped his arms and took a deep breath. “There’s something else you need to know. I believe there is a spy in the Pit.”
“Who?”
“My suspicion is that it’s Charon. He’s always watching me and everything I do. I don’t trust him. He hasna fought against me or with me.”
She nodded. “Charon does watch you constantly.”
The door to the Pit creaked open. “MacLeod!”
Marcail jerked. She couldn’t believe Quinn was leaving her. He was the one thing she had begun to trust, and now, she would have nothing.
Before she could beg him not to go, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with passion and longing that matched her own. She held onto him with all her might. Drowning. Sinking. Yielding.
His hands spread along her back, holding her firm against his rockhard body. His lips were soft, insistent and unrelenting as they took hers. He plundered her mouth, taking her breath, as well as part of her soul, with one heart-stopping kiss.
A kiss that showed her all the passion, all the longing Quinn had. It was a kiss that Marcail would never forget.
All too soon he pulled away from her. “Stay hidden,” he said as he let his god loose. “And for God’s sake, doona trust anyone but Arran, the twins, and my brothers.”
Then he was gone.
Marcail stumbled to her feet and raced to the entrance of the cave. Just before she turned the corner in hopes of catching another glimpse of Quinn, Arran pulled her back into the shadows.
“Doona,” Arran said in her ear. “This is more difficult for him than he is letting on. If he hears you, sees you, he’s liable to change his mind.”
“Isn’t that what we want?” she asked, tears stinging her eyes.
“With all my heart, aye. As much as I hate watching a friend go to his doom, I’ve given Quinn my vow. I will keep it, regardless of how much I hate it. His sacrifice will save many lives.”
Marcail flinched when the door banged shut and the bolt slid into the place. Already the Pit seemed different without Quinn. His mere presence had filled the Pit. Now, the darkness was never-ending.
She pulled out of Arran’s arms and walked to where she and Quinn had just sat. Their meal lay forgotten on the stones. She had been starving when she’d first bitten into the bread, but now, she couldn’t stand the thought of food.
Marcail sank onto the large slab of rock and let her head drop into her hands. She had known her time with Quinn would be short, she just never expected him to be gone so soon. Too soon.
Quinn followed William from the Pit through small corridors and up countless steps. He didn’t need to try to memorize his way. There was only one way to the Pit through the stairwells, and that was found easily enough.
What Quinn found odd was the way William watched him with such open hostility. They’d had their share of battles, true, but this seemed different. As if Quinn was somehow encroaching on William’s territory.
And that’s when Quinn realized what it was.
“I gather you doona want to share Deirdre.”
William whirled around and slammed Quinn against the wall. Quinn laughed even when William used a claw
