“I didn’t mean it,” Arran said at the same time.
Quinn looked from one to the other. “Someone better explain.”
“I went to speak to Charon,” Marcail began and tucked a strand of sable hair and a small braid behind her ear.
“Charon?” Quinn repeated. “Why?”
She lifted a slim shoulder. “I wanted to know if he could help you.”
Arran rubbed his jaw. “I saw her over there and thought Charon had taken her. I attacked.”
“And I made the mistake of trying to stop it,” Marcail said. “I should have known better.”
“I shouldna have struck you.”
Quinn turned his gaze to Arran and began to shake with rage. “You struck her?”
Marcail grabbed Quinn’s hand. “Only because he didn’t realize it was me. And he didn’t really hit me. It was more of a shove.”
“Holy hell,” Quinn murmured.
“It was an accident,” Marcail repeated. “Please do not be angry at Arran.”
Quinn glanced at the white Warrior.
“You were correct in thinking she had protection spells around her,” Arran said.
Quinn frowned. “You were harmed?”
“It was pain unlike anything I’d felt. It’s no wonder Deirdre didna want to chance hurting Marcail herself. I never meant to harm her.”
“I believe you, my friend. Is that all that happened?”
Quinn didn’t miss the look that passed between them. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on when Arran spoke.
“Duncan is…doing better. He’s still not himself.”
“I doona expect him to be.” In fact, Quinn was surprised Duncan hadn’t tried to claw his way through the stones to get to his twin. And if Duncan had any idea just what they were doing to Ian, Quinn knew Duncan would do whatever he had to in order to reach Ian.
Marcail entwined her fingers with his, bringing Quinn’s attention back to her. The frown marring her forehead told him something bothered her.
“What is it?” he urged.
She glanced at Arran before she said, “There seems to be a very tight bond between Duncan and Ian.”
“Of course there is. Not only are they brothers, but they are twins.”
“It’s much more than that.”
Quinn moved so that he could lower himself onto a large boulder. “I think you better explain.”
“It began after you were taken,” Arran said. “Duncan hadna left his cave, so I had gone to check on him. That’s when I found him on the ground, writhing in agony.”
Marcail sat beside Quinn. “I don’t know how much time passed before I heard his tormented moan. I raced to Duncan to find blood trickling out of his mouth and his body wracked with pain.”
Quinn closed his eyes not wanting to hear any more, but knowing he had to. “You used your power, didna you?”
“Aye,” Marcail whispered. “He looked as if he were dying, Quinn. I had no choice.”
He nodded. “I know. Thank you for looking after him.”
Arran snorted. “I’d rather her not do it again because it made her so sick.”
“Arran,” Marcail snapped.
Quinn silenced her by turning her face to his. “How sick?”
“It was nothing I couldn’t tolerate.”
“That isna what I asked, Marcail. How sick?”
She sighed. “There was much pain and distress inside him. I took as much as my magic would allow me.”
Quinn pulled her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. It scared him that she had done such a thing when he wasn’t there to see to her, but he was also grateful she had helped Duncan. “Thank you.”
“I don’t know how long it will last,” Marcail said as she looked up at him. “Duncan could begin again any moment. He told me he could feel the torture that was inflicted on Ian.”
Quinn rubbed his eyes as regret and resentment settled in his gut. “Where is Duncan now?”
“Resting,” Arran answered. “What happened, Quinn? Did you see Deirdre?”
Quinn briefly thought about not telling them, but they all had a right to know, especially Duncan. Though Quinn would rather cut off his own arm than have to tell Duncan what had been done to his brother.
“I never saw Deirdre,” he began. “William took me to a small chamber where I had to watch Ian being tortured hour after hour. I tried to stop it, but William had ordered Ian to be killed should I deliver one blow to William.”
“My God,” Marcail murmured.
Quinn looked at Arran to find the Warrior with his arms crossed over his chest and his head lowered. He could well imagine what Arran thought of him now.
“I would have traded places with Ian if I could,” Quinn said.
Arran shifted his feet. “I never doubted that. I’m just trying to figure out what William is about.”
“He hates me almost as much as I despise him. I’ve vowed to kill him for this, and I will see it done.”
“What I don’t understand is where was Deirdre? I thought she wanted you to give in?” Marcail asked.
Quinn nodded. “That was my question. It seems that Deirdre has told William she wants to speak to no one. I assure you she has no idea that William made me watch Ian’s torture. She doesna even know I’ve requested to see her, since my demand got no farther than William.”
Arran dropped his arms and lifted his head. “What are we going to do?”
Quinn knew exactly what he was going to do, but he wasn’t about to tell Arran or Marcail. They wouldn’t understand. But he had no choice now. There was too much he had to set to rights.
“We wait,” he answered. “It’s all we can do.”
Twenty
Marcail couldn’t believe Quinn was really back. She had thought she would need to resign herself to never seeing him again. Yet here he was, his hard body pressed against hers.
She licked her lips, still feeling the kiss he had given her. There had been such desire, such hunger in that kiss that it had shaken her to her core. She didn’t need her magic to know that she was becoming attached to Quinn. Despite that knowledge, she couldn’t move away from him.
It was as if Quinn had magic of his own that tugged her to his side. They were in the worst place in the world, but all she thought about was Quinn and how he made her feel.
Quinn’s revelation about having to watch Ian being beaten made her heart constrict. She couldn’t imagine having to endure something so terrible, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Are you really all right?” Quinn asked as he tugged gently on one of her braids.
She smiled up at him and nodded. “I’m much better now that you’ve returned.”
His hand stroked through her hair. She closed her eyes and leaned her head into his hand. She reached up to begin releasing her braids so he could move his fingers through her hair when he stopped her.
“Nay,” he whispered and kissed her neck. “I love your braids. They are part of what make you
Marcail stroked his cheek and whiskered jaw before letting her finger trace his lips. The feelings he stirred in her were arousing and glorious. And she never wanted them to end. “Quinn.”
No more needed to be said. His arms wound around her tightly, crushing her against his chest, but she didn’t mind. She couldn’t get close enough to him.
His mouth nipped and nibbled hers, and then his tongue licked along the seam of her lips. She groaned and
