Wicked Highlander

Twenty-six

Lucan scanned the area, and though he could see nothing, he knew something was out there. And that something was Warriors.

“The plan didna work,” Fallon whispered from beside him.

“It got us farther than we were before, and it gave us some time to rest and heal our wounds.”

Fallon grunted in response. They looked over the surrounding land from behind a clump trees. Nothing had moved in the thirty minutes they had been searching, but their Warrior senses told them more than their eyes ever could.

“How long do you want to wait?” Lucan asked.

Fallon sighed. “I doona want to wait another moment, but we will be outnumbered. We’ll be captured if we rush in.”

“I agree. I want in the mountain, but not like that. We’ll be no good to Quinn then.”

“Maybe we send two or three out there and see what happens?”

Lucan nodded. “I like that idea. I’ll go.”

“Nay,” Fallon said. “The point is for neither of us to be taken.”

Lucan rested his forehead on the tree and blew out a breath of frustration. “You’ll be watching. If it looks as though I’m to be taken, you can help.”

Fallon’s silence told Lucan he didn’t like the plan, but Fallon was thinking on it.

“All right,” Fallon finally agreed. “Stay so that I can see you, brother. I’ve already lost one of you, I canna lose another.”

Lucan nodded, and they turned to make their way slowly back to the others.

“What did you see?” Larena asked when she caught sight of Fallon.

Fallon’s face was set in grim lines. “The Warriors are there. We didna see how many there are, but they are waiting for us to make a move.”

“I’m ready for them,” Hayden said as he bit into an apple.

Lucan was ready as well, but he knew Fallon would be extra careful with this battle. He watched how Fallon took Larena’s hand and brought her close to him.

Lucan missed Cara, and though he would like to have her by his side, Cara wasn’t a Warrior as Larena was. Cara was safer at the castle, but he couldn’t wait to get to her, to hold her, to kiss her.

“Three of us are going to go out and see what greeting we get from the Warriors,” Lucan said. “I’m going. Who wants to go with me?”

Hayden stepped forward and tossed aside his half-eaten apple. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s not keep them waiting,” Logan said as he moved to stand beside Hayden.

Lucan nodded and then turned to Fallon. “The rest of you stay hidden.”

As one they turned and started back to where Lucan had first sensed the other Warriors. Fallon, Larena, Ramsey, and Galen took up posts in trees and on the ground to keep watch while Lucan, Hayden, and Logan kept walking.

Lucan flexed his claws, eager to rid Scotland of the evil Warriors who had aligned themselves with Deirdre. He glanced to his right to see Hayden’s red skin as the big blond showed his fangs in a smile.

When Lucan looked to his left he spotted Logan’s silver skin. Logan grinned at him, ready — and eager — as any of them for the coming battle.

And just as Lucan expected, ten Warriors poured out of the trees ahead of them. Hayden stretched out his arm as a fireball formed in his hand. He threw it at the oncoming Warriors and quickly formed another.

Lucan crouched low and was about to launch himself at the four Warriors coming toward him when all of a sudden they stopped. After a moment the Warriors turned and raced back into the trees.

“What in the name of all that is holy just happened?” Logan asked.

Lucan shrugged. “I doona know. Could be a trap. They know we’ll follow.”

“Shite,” Hayden growled and clenched his fists. “I was just getting started.”

Lucan looked over his shoulder at Fallon, who sat on a limb high in a tree. After a brief nod from his brother, Lucan motioned for Hayden and Logan to follow him.

“We’re going to see where the bastards are going.”

But when they crested the hill and saw the Warriors continuing on toward the mountain, Lucan drew to a halt. Something odd was definitely going on.

“What’s happened?” Fallon asked as he raced up beside them.

Lucan shook his head. “They’re running away.”

“I can see that. What I want to know is why?”

“They were afraid of me,” Hayden said and slapped Lucan on the shoulder. “Let’s enjoy our victory and free Quinn.”

Lucan turned to Fallon. “What do you think?”

“I have no idea,” Fallon said. “It could be anything. Deirdre had to have called them off, and the only reason for her doing that is…”

“Quinn,” Lucan finished for his brother. “Quinn has to have given in to her.”

“But she wants all of us,” Fallon said.

“Now that she has Quinn on her side, she knows we’ll do anything for him.”

Fallon raked a hand through his hair and blew out a ragged breath. “I think we need to get into the mountain. Now.”

“I think you’re right.”

Deirdre waited as long as she could to give Quinn some time to himself. She knew he didn’t want her now, but by the time she was done with him, he would think of her and only her for the rest of his days.

She smiled as her anticipation grew. She had even enjoyed watching him eat; how she longed to see him bathe, but that would come later.

Now that he was hers.

She rubbed her hands together and smiled. He was really hers. After all these centuries, she had the one man she had always wanted.

Deirdre rose from her chair and moved to the table where the food had been laid out. She poured some wine into Quinn’s goblet and drank where his lips had been a short while ago.

She closed her eyes and groaned as she tasted him mixed with the wine. Her sex throbbed with need, and just imagining him sliding his cock inside her made her wet and achy.

Deirdre paced the chamber until she could stand it no more. She opened the door and peered inside to find the tub empty. With a slight push, she cracked the door wider and searched the chamber for Quinn.

It wasn’t until she looked to the bed that she saw him stretched on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes. Anger filled her at finding him asleep. He should have come to her when he was finished bathing, but instead he had gone to bed.

Waiting for you perhaps?

She considered this. It could be, but Quinn hadn’t seemed intent on bedding her.

Unless it’s a ruse.

Deirdre liked it the more she thought of it.

She walked to the bed and trailed her hands from Quinn’s feet to his chest. He was snoring slightly so she tugged off his boots and placed them by the bed. She then straightened and gazed down at him.

She knew firsthand what the Warriors experienced in the Pit and sleep hadn’t been something Quinn did often. A strange new emotion filled her, one of almost…kindness as she considered allowing him to rest.

Deirdre moved to the other side of the bed and crawled in beside him. She touched his jaw for a moment before she turned on her side to sleep. They had eternity together now. What was a few more hours?

Quinn’s eyes slid open as Deirdre turned away from him. He couldn’t believe his deception had worked, but he had been desperate for anything so he wouldn’t have to touch her. It was bad enough that she was in the same bed with him.

It had been a long time since he had lain in a bed. Waking from being beaten in Deirdre’s bed didn’t count in his mind.

Even once he and his brothers had returned to the castle he had been unable to sleep in the bed of his old chamber. The night had been his hunting ground. He would race across the land he loved so much, uncaring of what animals saw him.

When his loneliness got too terrible and the need to relieve his cock grew too much, he would find a town and make quick use of a woman.

Then he would roam the castle and the cliffs. Sometimes he would doze for an hour or two, but he was always awake to see the sun crest the horizon.

But it was the softness of the bed that pulled at him now, reminding him how nice it would be to have Marcail beside him. He had made love to her several times, but not once in a bed with fresh linen sheets beneath her beautiful body.

He wanted to see her in the sunlight, to feast upon her curves in the light of day. He wanted to see her spread upon his bed, the MacLeod plaid beneath her with candlelight and firelight burnishing her skin in a golden glow.

There was so much he wanted to do with Marcail. Too much.

Quinn’s chest ached as he imagined Marcail huddled in his cave in the cold darkness. It was no place for a Druid, especially one that meant so much to him.

He knew he cared for Marcail, but the caring went much deeper than the responsibility he ought to feel. Quinn wasn’t sure when his feelings had changed, he just knew they had.

And now he wouldn’t ever be able to touch her, kiss her again.

He didn’t want Marcail to see what he would become with Deirdre. Quinn wouldn’t be able to carry out his plan if he knew Marcail looked at him with shame and revulsion.

Maybe he should have told Marcail what he intended to do, but he hadn’t wanted to give her a chance to talk him out of anything. As it was, he wanted to rush back to her and let Deirdre torture him however she wanted.

Except the torture would be on anyone but him, and that’s what kept him in her bed instead of returning to Marcail.

The next few days were going to be the hardest. He could hold Deirdre off for only so long before she demanded the use of his body.

At least his brothers were safe for the time being, and would continue to be so until the child came.

Quinn shuddered thinking of such a child being created. The conception of a baby was supposed to be a joyous occasion. He had to steel himself with the knowledge that he would have to kill the child the first chance he got. Something so evil couldn’t walk upon this earth for even a heartbeat.

But what kind of man was he that plotted to kill his own infant when he mourned the loss of a son so much it nearly destroyed him?