Wicked Highlander

Marcail wasted no time in rushing to Arran and laying her hand on his arm. “Arran, halt.”

She never saw his arm come at her. It landed in her chest with such force that it knocked the air from her lungs and sent her flying backward. A cry wrenched from her lips as she hit the wall and slid to the ground.

“By all that’s holy,” Arran said as he knelt in front of her.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he doubled over in pain. After a few moments, he raised his head. “Marcail, I’m sorry. I didna know it was you.”

She tried to talk, but she couldn’t put the breath back in her lungs.

Charon lifted her hand and peered into her eyes. “Calm down and allow your lungs to fill.”

It took a moment, but finally she could breathe. She nodded her thanks to Charon who released her hand and move away.

“How badly are you injured?” Arran asked, his face a mask of regret.

“I will be fine. What happened to you after I was hit?”

Arran shrugged. “I’m not sure. It was magic, magic I think came from you.”

“Quinn was right,” she murmured. “My grandmother did protect me with spells.”

“I’ve never felt anything so painful,” Arran confessed. “If that’s what I got just from striking you, I canna imagine the pain one would experience if you were killed.”

Marcail nodded. “I know now why Deirdre didn’t kill me. Now tell me why you attacked Charon?”

“I thought he had taken you for his own.”

She gave him a smile and patted his hand. “Nay, I had to talk to him.”

“Talk to him?” Arran repeated. “About what?”

“To see if he could help trade me for Quinn.”

Arran’s eyes widened in horror. “Doona try it, Marcail. Quinn is ready to sacrifice himself, but if he returns and you’re not here, he’s liable to kill all of us.”

As much as she would like to think Quinn cared about her and that was the reason Arran looked so taken aback, she knew it was because of the spell she had and nothing more.

But how she wished differently.

Nineteen

Quinn thought the torture to Ian would never end. Ian had never begged and never cried out, and Quinn knew the pain had been excruciating.

Not only did they whip and beat Ian, but they had pulled his claws out.

Several times Quinn had tried to free Ian, and each time Ian was beaten more until Quinn stopped trying. If he lived forever, Quinn would never forget seeing his friend tormented so. And to make matters worse, Quinn knew it was his fault. He’d never felt so helpless in his life, helpless and useless. So much for being one of the great MacLeods.

“Doona worry for your friend,” William said with a smug grin. “His claws will grow back.”

Quinn fisted his hands and let his claws puncture his palms. It was the only thing that kept him from attacking and killing William.

He faced the royal blue Warrior. “One day I’m going to get the battle I want between us. Know that when I do, I will take great pleasure in killing you.”

“Ah, MacLeod, you can certainly try. As much as Deirdre might enjoy seeing us spar, she willna let either of us die.”

Quinn would make sure William died, regardless of what it cost him later.

“I think it’s time to return you to the Pit,” William said.

As Quinn was ushered from the chamber he spotted Isla being led toward him by four black-veiled women. Blood dripped from Isla’s hands onto the floor. The drough’s face was pale and dark circles could be seen under her eyes.

William halted in front of Isla. “Well, well, well. I see Deirdre was thorough with your punishment.”

“Get out of my way,” Isla demanded of the Warrior.

“Or what?”

Isla’s ice-blue eyes bore holes in William’s forehead. “Do you really care to find out?”

William laughed and stepped aside to let her pass. Just as she drew even with him, William slapped her on the back. Isla hissed and stumbled, but she didn’t stop and never looked back.

Quinn watched Isla long after William had turned his attention away, so the royal blue Warrior missed the way Isla had to hold onto the wall to help support herself and the way she limped. Quinn found himself wondering what the Druid had done to be punished.

“MacLeod!” William bellowed.

Quinn turned from Isla and started toward William, but his thoughts were on the drough. If Deirdre had tortured her as William had suggested, then perhaps Quinn could turn Isla to his side. The question was, how much of a hold did Deirdre have on Isla?

The closer Quinn came to the Pit, the more his thoughts turned to Marcail. He had no idea how long he had been gone since the hours had blurred, but he prayed she was still safe.

He was anxious to see her, hold her…kiss her.

Just thinking of having her soft curves against him made his balls tighten in anticipation.

His ears strained to catch her voice as he waited for the door to be opened. He inhaled and tried to catch her scent of sunshine and rain.

But all he smelled was blood and death.

His heart quickened as fear took root. Had Marcail been hurt, or worse, killed? Had Deirdre somehow learned of her presence while Quinn had been away?

As soon as the door cracked open, he shoved it aside and strode into the Pit. The first person he saw was Charon lounging against the stones as if he had all the time in the world.

“MacLeod,” Charon said as Quinn walked past.

Quinn gave a nod of his head. “Charon.”

When Quinn came to the entrance to his cave, he paused. Arran and Duncan weren’t guarding it, and there was no sign of Marcail either.

“Thank God,” Arran said as he walked to Quinn.

Quinn clasped his forearm in greeting. “How were things?”

Arran’s gaze dropped to the ground. “You need to come inside.”

Instantly, worry for Marcail filled Quinn. He pushed past Arran only to stop a few steps into the cave when he spotted Marcail.

She slowly rose to her feet, her lips parted and tilting into a smile. He had never been so happy to see anyone in his life. The horror from the past hours faded away as he gazed at her beauty.

“You’ve returned,” she said.

“Aye.” He couldn’t get anything else past his lips, not when he wanted to kiss her as desperately as he did. He tamped down his god, not wanting to harm her with his claws and fangs.

Uncaring of who was around, he pulled her into his arms as his lips took hers. He kissed her deeply, passionately, the hunger inside only increasing with the sweet taste of her mouth and the feel of her hands on him.

He took her mouth, letting the desire that pulsed within him grow until he shook with it. He remembered vividly what it was like to be inside her, and he wanted her slick walls to surround him once more.

“I could kiss you for eternity,” he said as he nipped her ear lobe.

She smiled against his cheek and hugged him. “That sounds heavenly.”

He rubbed his hands up her back and felt her stiffen. Quinn took her by the shoulders and looked into her turquoise eyes. “What has happened?”

“It was nothing,” she said.