Wicked Highlander

Ten

No matter how hard Quinn tried to forget there was a very alluring, very beautiful female just steps away from him, he couldn’t.

He tried to think of Deirdre and a plan of escape, but all his mind could concentrate on was the shape of Marcail’s plump lips and her delectable scent. Every drop of blood was now centered in his groin, and by the ache that had settled there, it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

The other Warriors in the Pit had begun to grow restless as well. They smelled her, they heard her. No matter what, Quinn would never be able to leave the Pit or one of them would take her. That thought sent his rage to rising.

Quinn turned that rage to his advantage and channeled it into communicating with the rats. Though he hadn’t mastered his power in human form yet as Lucan had, Quinn was getting stronger with each use.

He had already transformed into his god as he did each time he wanted to be seen. His power swirled within him, growing larger and potent with each beat of his heart.

“Find the other Warriors. Bite them, attack them, annoy them. Keep them occupied,” Quinn commanded the rats.

His sharp hearing picked up the scratch of the rats’ claws as they hurried to carry out his orders. Quinn didn’t hide his smile when he heard the first growl of a Warrior being bitten.

The distraction wasn’t much, but the rats would keep the Warriors occupied for a long time. Quinn couldn’t wait to leave the mountain and try his power out on other animals, like horses.

He had used to love to ride. His favorite mount had been a bay stallion. Quinn missed that horse. Ever since he’d become immortal, he hadn’t ridden. There wasn’t a reason to when he could move as fast, or faster, than any horse could run.

Still, he longed to feel a horse beneath him and see the ground blurred under the animal’s hooves as it moved across the land. Three hundred years ago, racing his mount had made him feel like a god. How naïve he had been.

Quinn felt a presence beside him and looked over to find Arran. The Warrior glared across the way into Charon’s cave. For some reason, Arran hated Charon, but Quinn hadn’t figured out why.

“You have claimed the female as your own, yet you doona want to be near her,” Arran said before turning his gaze to Quinn.

Just the mention of Marcail made Quinn’s blood heat. “It’s not a question of wanting, it’s a question of deserving. I’m not the man for her.”

“But you want her.”

“More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. She’s a good person who got caught in Deirdre’s web. I’ve evil inside me, Arran.”

“The evil inside us doesn’t make us wicked. We have that choice.”

Quinn smiled and shook his head. “You sound just like Lucan. He said the same thing to me once.”

“Then your brother is obviously the clever one, not you, as they say.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “I’ll admit Lucan and Fallon are better men, and at times, Lucan has shown himself to be nearly as clever as me, but never has he outwitted me.”

Arran’s grin, weak though it was, dropped from his lips. “If you want Marcail then take her. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, my friend. Doona be a fool and allow this moment to pass you by. I live daily with regrets. Learn from me.”

Quinn lived with his own regrets. “I canna chance it, Arran. Deirdre will discover Marcail soon enough. Already I’ve endangered her by saving her. If I take her as I long to do, Deirdre’s wrath will be fierce.”

“And you worry for Marcail?”

“I do. Deirdre wants her dead. I believe Deirdre will leave Marcail down here to die unless Deirdre discovers I’ve taken Marcail as mine. You can be certain to see Deirdre’s wrath then.”

Arran ran a hand down his face. “You may be right. Who knows how much longer you have before Deirdre takes you? She does want your child.”

When Quinn was first dropped into the Pit he fully expected to stay there until he was either rescued or died. But the longer he was in and the more times Broc and Isla visited him, Quinn knew that one day Deirdre would tire of her game and summon him.

Was that what Broc meant when he said Quinn’s time was running out?

“Holy Hell,” Quinn murmured. He trusted Arran and the twins, but how long would their honor last when faced with Marcail’s beauty on a daily basis without Quinn there?

Not long.

Arran slapped him on the back. “Exactly.”

Quinn yawned and rubbed his eyes. When he glanced behind him he found Marcail stretched out on the slab with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering.

“Go to her,” Arran said. “You’ve kept watch long enough.”

Quinn didn’t argue, not when he yearned to be close to Marcail again. He walked to her and stared down at her form as she rested on her side, facing him. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep. Yet.

He kept his vigil until her breathing slowed. Then he lowered himself beside her. The slab was large, but not large enough to fit two people on their backs comfortably. Thankfully, with Marcail on her side, Quinn was able to lie on his back and scoot close to her.

Quinn raised his arm closest to Marcail and tucked his hand beneath his head. As if she sensed his warmth, she shifted closer to him.

The moments ticked by as Quinn studied her face. She was beauty personified. Her skin was flawless except for a small mole on the left side of her upper lip. But even that didn’t distract from her loveliness.

Unable to help himself, Quinn traced her cheek and jaw with his fingers. Her skin was as smooth as ermine. To his surprise, Marcail’s head moved until she rested against his chest.

Quinn’s heart pounded in his chest. No woman, not even his wife, had ever lain on him so. He slowly lowered the arm he had behind his head and wrapped it around Marcail. Her shivers had lessened with the addition of his body heat.

At first he was afraid to move, afraid he might wake her. He liked her draped on his chest as she was, and if she never moved it would be too soon.

He forced himself to relax and take the time his body needed to rest.

Deirdre paced her chamber. She didn’t like being denied. For any reason. She had told herself holding out for Quinn would make finally having him that much more enjoyable, but she was beginning to doubt that.

It seemed that no matter how long Quinn remained in the Pit, it wasn’t weakening him. She had been overjoyed to see him take over as he had. It had proven to her that he was, indeed, the Warrior to rule by her side. Or as much as she would allow him to rule.

“Maybe he needs some incentive.”

Deirdre halted and swiveled her head to William, who lounged naked on her bed. She had forgotten he was still in her chamber. Though he had occupied her bed for some weeks now, she didn’t find the satisfaction she knew awaited her in Quinn’s arms.

William’s royal blue skin still shone with sweat from their recent lovemaking. Deirdre found it exciting to have the Warriors with their fangs and claws in her bed. She forbade any of them to convert to their human forms once they pledged their loyalty to her. They had no idea that the longer they stayed in their god form, the more hold the god had over them.

As enticing as William was, she knew he loathed Quinn. She understood it. William wanted to be the one to give her a child and rule. But he never would.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked the Warrior.

“The more you ask — or even demand — that Quinn come to your bed, he will deny you. Take something from him. That’s the only way you’ll break him.”

Deirdre flipped her long white hair over her shoulder and considered William’s words. She knew from Charon’s reports that the twins, Duncan and Ian, as well as Arran, had sided with Quinn. Charon had reported no other Warriors, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more. She didn’t trust Charon, though he was proving more reliable than she had first thought.

“Take something from Quinn,” she murmured to herself. She smiled at William. “I think you might have something there.”

William rose from his position on the bed and walked to her. “Let me do it. Let me be the one to take from Quinn.”

“Wasn’t it enough that you were the one to capture him?”

“Nay. I want to prove to you that he isn’t the man you think he is.”

Deirdre tilted her head to look at the Warrior. William had served her faithfully for over two centuries, ever since she had unbound his god. She knew he was in love with her, or as in love as a Warrior could feel, and she had always used it to her advantage.

“Just because I plan to take Quinn to my bed doesn’t mean that you will no longer be welcome, William.”

His royal blue eyes narrowed. “You would still want me?”

“I will always want you.”

“So I can be the one to hurt Quinn?”

She nodded. “Aye, my lover. But first, I want more of your body.”

William growled and wrapped his hands around her waist, his claws scraping her skin. He turned and threw her onto the bed. She kicked out at him, striking him in the chin.

He bared his teeth with a growl and grabbed her ankle before she could kick him again. With one jerk, he pulled her to the end of the massive bed and onto his cock.

Deirdre gasped at the feeling of being impaled on his shaft so suddenly. He pulled out only to thrust hard and fast into her, just as she liked it. She clawed at his back with her long nails as her legs wrapped around his waist. He fisted one hand in her floor-length hair and tugged.

It was too bad William wasn’t the one to give her the child of destiny. She could control him easily enough, and he was a great lover.

But it was Quinn who held her attention.

As if sensing her thoughts, William dug his claws into her hips and pounded into her violently. She screamed as her climax came upon her without warning.

William wrenched every last tremor from her before turning her onto her stomach and sliding into her from behind. Their night of sex had just begun, and by the time he was finished with her, Deirdre would be as sated as she could get.

Quinn woke to the most delicious feel of a woman snuggled against him. He smiled as he realized Marcail’s legs were intertwined with his and her arm was thrown over his chest.

It was the smell of bread that alerted him he had slept, and slept deeply. Even on the hard rock beneath him, he had slumbered like he was in a feather bed. And it was all because of Marcail.

Somehow being around the Druid relaxed him as well as bringing him desire unlike he had ever known. It took everything he had not to ground his aching rod into her leg. It would be so simple to turn her onto her back and cover her body with his.

Holly Hell.

He needed to keep his distance from Marcail before he gave in to this yearning that consumed him. And though every fiber of his being told him to get up, he couldn’t.

Marcail trusted him, a Warrior, with her life. She molded her body to his for warmth and safety as she slept. That meant more to him than anything she could have done. His own wife hadn’t trusted him that way, a wife who had known him for nearly his entire life.

Marcail had known him for such a short time. What was the difference? Why did Marcail understand him when Elspeth had not?

Quinn smoothed the braids that had fallen in Marcail’s face as she’d slept. She blinked and opened her eyes. For a heartbeat she didn’t move. Then she tilted her face to his.

“I would say good morn, but I’m not sure what time of day it is.”

He smiled. “We usually get bread in the mornings, and since there is some waiting for us, I think it’s safe to say good morn.”

“You kept me warm while I slept.”

Quinn glanced away. “You were freezing. I had no blanket to offer. Only myself.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“It was my pleasure.” And he meant every word.

With a shy grin, Marcail rose and moved to the water behind Quinn’s head. He sat up and tracked her with his eyes. Just as on the previous morning, she drank her fill before splashing water on her face and neck.

Quinn reached for the bread to break it in half when he saw three other pieces beside it. He glanced at his men. He hadn’t asked, or expected, them to share their food with Marcail, yet they had. He gave them a nod of thanks before tearing off a piece of his to add to the pile.

When Marcail walked back to him and saw the bread she shook her head with a smile. “You and your men?”

“We want to make sure you’re fed.”

“I don’t need all of this.”

Quinn stopped her with a hand on her arm before she could give the bread back. “If you return the bread, you will offend them. I didna ask them to share with you. They’ve done it on their own.”

“I see,” she said. “I’m…touched.”

“You are one to be protected, Marcail. And not just because you are a Druid. You’re a woman first and foremost.”

She laughed. “Weak, you mean.”

“That’s not what I meant at all. As men, we are raised to protect women and children, to give our lives if necessary. It is what a Highlander is.”

Marcail tore off a piece of bread and squished it between her fingers. “Things were different in my village. The men did look out for the women and children, but not as you say. My father gave his life for us, but I would not expect any other man to die for me.”

“Then you obviously haven’t encountered a true Highlander.”

Her smile warmed his heart.

“So it seems, Quinn MacLeod. You are the first Highlander I’ve met, and I must say, I’m duly impressed.”