Wicked Highlander

Thirty-five

The first thing Marcail felt was the warmth. She realized she had been taken out of the blue flames, since Deirdre’s magic no longer held her frozen. Yet she couldn’t wake.

She knew her heart was failing, could feel the strain of her lungs as they struggled to draw breath.

For a time, she had felt something else as well, mie magic. Had another Druid tried to help her? Since she couldn’t hear anything but silence, Marcail didn’t know.

Though she didn’t want to die, the one thing she wanted — Quinn — was gone from her. What was there to live for now? But still her lungs drew in air.

She could either die, or she could use her magic and help to heal herself. Her grandmother had told her once that her life would hang in the balance and Marcail had to be able to heal against anything.

Had her grandmother foreseen what Deirdre would do to her?

Marcail searched for her magic but found nothing. She was a mie, a Druid who knew only goodness. Her bloodline could be traced back to the ancient Celts, when her ancestors had held great power. Her magic couldn’t have been taken from her.

Then…she felt a sliver of magic and reached for it with her mind. She held onto that small thread and focused on it, drawing it into her body and through her blood and heart and lungs.

With each breath she fought against the black magic that wanted her death. Several times the black magic almost won, but Marcail refused to give up. Her grandmother had taught her well, and Marcail wouldn’t allow her training and magic to go unused.

Her magic began to grow like a glowing white light inside her. The more she concentrated, the more it grew until it overtook the poisonous black magic inside her and killed it.

In a rush, sound filled her ears. Birds cried, wind whistled around her, and waves crashed below her. But, most wonderful of all, were the strong arms that held her, an embrace she would know anywhere.

Quinn.

She opened her eyes to see him staring off into the distance. Around her the sky was alive with color. Clouds varied from lavender to vibrant pink and lustrous orange. She shifted her gaze and found the sun sinking into the horizon.

Marcail was able to glimpse the last bit of the orange globe before it disappeared and night took its hold over the land.

She turned her gaze back to Quinn and smiled. She didn’t know how they had gotten away from Deirdre, and it didn’t matter. She was in his arms, the only place she wanted to be.

Her heart was about to burst with happiness, but the grief on Quinn’s face made her pause.

He inhaled deeply and looked down at her. His eyes went wide with disbelief. “Marcail?” he whispered.

She smiled and reached to touch his face. “Aye, Quinn. I’m here.”

“How?”

“Magic. My magic.”

His hand shook as he caressed her face. “Holy Hell. I thought I had lost you. Doona do that to me again.”

“Never,” she vowed.

He crushed her against his chest and she welcomed his warmth. It felt so good to touch him, hold him again, that she never wanted to let go.

“You’re at MacLeod Castle,” he said as he leaned back. “All the prisoners were freed from Cairn Toul. Duncan, Ian, Arran, and Broc have returned with us.”

Marcail bit her lip. “What of Deirdre?”

“She’s dead,” Quinn said. “She’ll never hurt us again.”

Marcail was overwhelmed with the news. She wished she could have seen it, but it was enough that Deirdre’s evil was no longer part of their world.

Quinn caressed her cheek and she found herself lost in his pale green gaze. “I realized something when I saw what Deirdre had done to you.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

In all her dreams, she had never thought to hear those words from him. “You love me?”

“Aye. My whole life I’ve dreamed of finding a woman I loved. I never thought it possible.”

She leaned up so that her lips were near his. “It’s most definitely possible, Quinn MacLeod. I fear I fell in love with you the moment you saved me in the Pit.”

His lips claimed hers in a fiery kiss fueled with passion, longing, and the promise of a future. “I doona want to be apart again. Ever.”

She laughed, her soul filled with so much joy she could barely stand it. “I agree.”

Quinn rolled onto his back and pulled her against him. “I cannot wait to show you everything and have you meet my brothers. Once you are settled maybe Sonya and Cara can help you find the spell to bind our gods.”

Marcail frowned and looked away from him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Deirdre almost killed my magic. I brought it back, and though I’m stronger for it, I’m afraid I might have lost the spell forever. You see, I began to remember it while in the Pit. You triggered it.”

He raised a brow. “Me?”

“My grandmother had always told me to follow my heart in everything. I think she cloaked the spell until I fell in love. The more I got to know you and love you, the more I heard the strange chanting in my head. It was only after you were taken that I realized what it was. I almost had it when Broc came to help me escape. I’ve not been able to try since.”

Quinn smiled and kissed her. “It will be all right. If you find the spell, we will use it. If not…”

“You live forever while I die.”

His lips flattened at her words. “I’d rather have eternity with you, but I’ll take anything I can get.”

And in her heart she agreed with him. “We’ve lost so much time.”

Quinn rolled her onto her back and jumped to his feet. He held out his hands for her and gently pulled her next to him. “I cannot wait for you to meet Lucan and Fallon.”

Marcail laughed and turned her head to see the large castle with its gray stones and mighty towers. “It’s magnificent.”

“A lot of work has been done to restore it,” he said. “So much has happened while I’ve been gone.”

“And you’ve changed.”

He nodded and pulled her into his arms. “For the better. I never dreamed I’d say this again, but will you be my wife, Marcail?”

She nodded as happiness overflowed within her. “I wouldn’t dream of being with anyone else.”

He groaned and bent his head for another kiss, a kiss that was the beginning of a love more glorious than either could have imagined.