Quinn raked a hand down his face. “In time you will learn that what Deirdre says is all lies. She’s the one who unbound your god, friend. She’s the one who is evil.”
No sooner were the words out of Quinn’s mouth than the Warrior attacked. More gashes appeared on Quinn’s chest as he fought the frenzied Warrior.
There was no talking, not now. Time, however, was Quinn’s friend.
“Quinn,” Arran yelled in warning.
Quinn spotted the bottle in the orange Warrior’s fingers. He rolled over until he held the newcomer on the ground, but somehow the Warrior had uncorked the bottle. Quinn managed to pin the Warrior’s arm out to the side as something dark and red spilled out of the bottle.
He didn’t need to sniff the liquid to know it was blood, but why would the Warrior want to pour blood on him?
“Cease or you will die,” Quinn warned. He wouldn’t kill the Warrior, but he knew Arran or Duncan would.
“I will be redeemed if I kill you,” the orange Warrior shouted.
Quinn didn’t know what Deirdre was playing at, but he would be sure to find out.
The Warrior tossed the bottle at Quinn, aimed at his chest and his multiple wounds. Quinn managed to duck the vial, but Duncan had already removed the orange Warrior’s head from his body by the time Quinn looked up.
“I willna see you harmed,” Duncan said by way of explanation.
Quinn nodded and rose from the Warrior’s dead body. The only way they could be killed was by decapitation, and though Quinn hadn’t wanted the Warrior dead, it was probably for the best.
Overhead there was laughter as Quinn remembered too late that he was being observed. He looked up and found Deirdre watching him with a cruel smile on her lips.
“I abhor her,” he mumbled. A good man had died for her benefit.
“Does she have so many Warriors that she can have them killed so easily now?” Arran asked the question that had been going through Quinn’s mind.
Quinn refused to move until the trapdoor was closed. He turned to his men, but a banging on the Pit entrance took his attention. Did it mean another attack? His wounds were healing, but he needed a little more time to be completely restored.
He spotted Broc through the square in the door. At the winged Warrior’s nod, Quinn walked to him.
“What was that all about?” Quinn demanded. “A Warrior died for nothing.”
Broc raised a brow. “The man is dead. The god is not.”
“Explain.”
Isla stepped beside Broc and trained her ice-blue eyes on Quinn. “Just as the god passed through the bloodlines, finding the best Warrior, he will continue to do so until the bloodline runs out.”
“Are you telling me the god of the Warrior back there has left his body and now traveled to another of his bloodline?”
“That is exactly what I’m telling you,” Isla replied. “Look for yourself.”
Quinn looked over his shoulder to find the orange skin of the Warrior gone. In its place was that of a young lad who had barely reached manhood. He ground his teeth together and faced Broc and Isla.
“So what now?” he asked. “Does Deirdre want to gloat? I’ve spent too many hours watching Ian being tortured for her to want more.”
“What did you say?” Broc asked.
Isla turned her head slightly to Broc. “Deirdre has been in a rage. She put William in command for a few hours.”
Broc let out a measured breath. “Did William touch you?”
Quinn found his question odd, especially for one who worked for Deirdre. “Does it matter?”
“Aye,” Isla said. “Answer the question.”
Quinn looked from one to the other. “Nay,” he finally answered. “He didna. He seemed to know better.”
“The Warrior thrown into the Pit was Deirdre’s way of telling you she can do whatever she wants,” Isla said.
Quinn chuckled. “The bitch has always been able to do what she wants, except when it comes to my body. I find it odd that she doesn’t try to use magic on me. It must be because she canna. And the child of prophecy willna be born unless I give her my body willingly.”
Isla gave a slight nod of her head. “You are correct, MacLeod.”
“What do you want?” Broc asked. “In exchange. What do you want for willingly going to Deirdre?”
Quinn thought back to the lovemaking he and Marcail had experienced, how with one touch she brought light into his world. As much as he wanted to free her now, he couldn’t. He had to keep his brothers away from Deirdre. Marcail he would liberate as quickly as he could.
“My brothers,” Quinn said. “I want them left alone.”
Isla lifted her hand and Quinn saw the slight wince that passed quickly over her schooled features. “That she will not grant. She has need of your brothers.”
If Quinn spoke of Marcail now, Deirdre would likely have her killed immediately regardless of the protection spells. Quinn couldn’t ask for the release of Arran and Duncan because no one would be there to guard Marcail.
“Ian. I want Ian released not just from the torture but from the mountain. Send him on his way.”
Isla’s mouth pinched in what appeared to be fury. “Ian is a Warrior, MacLeod. He can withstand much.”
“He’s withstood more than anyone should have to.”
“Is this really what you would have me trade your…seed for?” Isla asked.
Quinn frowned. There seemed to be more in Isla’s words than what she was speaking. Even Broc looked at her strangely. If only they were alone, then Quinn could speak to her.
“What would you have me ask for?” Quinn asked.
Isla’s ice-blue eyes seemed to flame with emotion. “That is not for me to say.”
Quinn was so tired of the riddles and evasive answers. He just wanted to do the right thing and protect the people he cared about. It was becoming more and more difficult, though.
Isla stepped closer to the door. “It is said, MacLeod, that your brothers are headed this way.”
“It is also said that Deirdre has sent an army of wyrran to stop them while Warriors set a trap to capture them,” Broc said.
Quinn’s hope had risen only to be dashed as quickly. “If she takes my brothers, I will never give her my body.”
“Don’t say never,” Isla cautioned. “You don’t know how powerful she’s become.”
Broc nodded. “Isla isna speaking false. Be cautious, MacLeod. Deirdre always gets what she wants in the end. You need to decide how you plan to come out when all this is over.”
Quinn watched Isla walk away. He knew how he would come out in the end. He would bed a great evil only to spawn the greatest wickedness to ever walk the earth. If that happened, any good that might still be in the world would be gone forever.
“Think carefully, MacLeod,” Broc said. “Whatever you choose in bargaining for your body canna be undone. Deirdre is granting you this one gift. Do not waste it.”
“She willna give me what I really want, which is my brother’s freedom.”
“Is that all you really want?”
Quinn thought of Marcail, of her exotic turquoise eyes and braids that framed her beautiful face. “There is too much I want.”
“Then I will return on the morrow for your decision.”
Quinn turned and leaned against the door. Now he knew how much time he had with Marcail. And it didn’t seem near enough. He feared eternity wouldn’t be enough.
Twenty-two
