Wicked Highlander (19 page)

“Finally,” Fallon said as they stood before Deirdre's mountain.

“It's not going to be easy,” Ramsey stated as he eyed the mound of rock before them.

Logan chuckled. “Getting in will be easy, it's the getting out part I'm concerned with.”

“Maybe you should stay behind,” Hayden said.

“And let you get yourself killed?” Logan snorted. “You need me to watch your back.”

Fallon shook his head at the banter between Logan and Hayden. The need to rush in and find Quinn was too much to bear, but for the sake of Larena, Lucan, and the others, Fallon had to be careful.

“You know what has to be done,” Larena said.

He frowned, hating that she was right. “I'd rather not.”

“It's the reason I came, Fallon.”

Lucan nodded. “You need to let her go inside.”

Fallon knew Larena's power to become invisible would allow them to find Quinn, but the thought of his wife, the woman who held his heart in her hands, in Deirdre's mountain left him cold.

“I can handle myself,” Larena said. “I am a Warrior. I've proven to you countless times that I can take care of myself.”

“Aye, love, I know you can. I just like to be beside you just in case.”

She leaned in and kissed him. “And I love you for that, but you need to let me go now. We have to find Quinn.”

Fallon reluctantly stepped back. “Doona stay longer than you have to. Find him and get out.”

“It's the finding him that's going to take the longest,” Galen said. “Quinn could be anywhere in that mountain.”

Fallon cupped his hands on either side of Larena's face. “Find Deirdre first. If Quinn isna with her, you're likely to discover where he's being held. Then it'll be a matter of finding where he's located after that.”

“I'll find him, Fallon,” she promised.

“I have no doubt.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “Just promise me you willna be caught.”

She leaned back to look into his eyes. “I'll return to you. There's nowhere else I belong.”

It took all of Fallon's will to release her. In a blink she transformed, her spectacular iridescent skin shining in the sunlight a moment before she became invisible. Larena shed her clothes quickly after that.

There was a soft press on his check before she whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he said. “Come back to me, Larena.”

There wasn't a response, not that he needed one. She would return if she could. She was his life, and if for some reason Deirdre imprisoned Larena, Fallon would move heaven and earth to free his wife.

“She'll be all right,” Lucan said.

Ramsey nodded in agreement. “Thank God we have Larena on our side.”

“Aye,” Fallon said, though he wished he'd been the one that could turn invisible. He'd rather put himself in that kind of danger than his wife.

 

Marcail knew the moment the Pit door opened they had come for her. At the entrance to the cave stood the tall winged Warrior. Arran and Duncan refused to let him pass, so Marcail went to him.

“You've come for me?” she asked the Warrior.

“I have.”

“Broc,” Arran said. “Doona take her.”

So this was Broc, the one Quinn spoke of often. Marcail glanced at his large wings and couldn't help but wonder how they looked spread. “He has no choice,” Marcail said.

“Everyone has a choice,” Duncan said.

Marcail put her hands on Duncan and Arran as she walked past them to stand beside Broc. She faced the two Warriors who had guarded her. “Remember what I told you.”

“Marcail,” Arran warned.

“Leave it,” Broc said. “She must come with me now.”

Marcail's legs shook so badly they threatened to give out on her. Somehow she managed to follow Broc from the Pit without making a fool of herself. As she passed Charon's cave, she saw the copper Warrior staring at her, his eyes haunted.

He didn't wear the expression of a man who had gotten what he wanted. In fact, he looked almost beaten down.

When she and Broc left the Pit and the door closed behind her, Marcail took a deep breath and tried to remain as steadfast as she had in the cave.

It wasn't easy.

She had no idea where Broc was taking her and if it would lead to imminent death.

“Keep up,” Broc said over his shoulder.

Marcail had to lift her skirts and practically run to keep up with his long strides. The dark blue Warrior seemed to be in a great hurry.

“Have you seen Quinn? Is he all right?” She knew she shouldn't ask, but she had to know.

“Keep your thoughts on yourself.”

She halted. “Nay.”

Broc slowed, then stopped and turned to face her. “What did you say?”

“I said nay. I want to know of Quinn or I'm not moving.”

He took a step toward her. “I could toss you over my shoulder.”

“You could.”

After a moment Broc sighed. “Quinn is fine. Deirdre willna hurt him. Now, come with me, Druid.”

Now that Marcail knew Quinn wasn't being harmed she continued after Broc. She knew in her heart Deirdre would plan a painful death for her.

Marcail had never feared dying, but she wished she'd had more time with Quinn. Those few precious hours had been the best of her life, even though they were spent in Deirdre's mountain.

But her one regret was not recalling the spell. She'd almost had it. She had been so close. If she'd only have recognized what the chanting was earlier she could have already had the spell and freed so many men from their gods, as well as thwarting Deirdre.

Marcail stopped just short of running into Broc's
featherless wings as he came to a sudden halt. The Warrior looked at her and pointed to a door that stood open and led to a dark chamber.

“You need to go in there.”

Marcail looked into the chamber and took in a calming breath. “Tell me what awaits me.”

“Freedom. If you hurry.”

She frowned, her lips parting in confusion. “Are you jesting?”

“Nay. Get in,” he said and took her by the arm to shove her into the room.

Marcail spun around to find Broc had followed her and pulled the door closed behind him. “What is going on?” she demanded.

“I'm trying to help you and Quinn.”

She wanted to believe Broc, but since she couldn't see his face, she couldn't look into his eyes and see his emotions. “Is there a light?”

No sooner had she said the words than a candle flared to life. Broc lit two more before he folded his arms over his chest.

“Tell me why you are helping me,” she urged.

Broc gave a slow shake of his head. “Does it matter? I have my reasons.”

Marcail wanted to know those reasons, but she could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that she would get no more out of him. She had to decide whether to trust him or not, and with her life on the line, she didn't have much of a choice.

“All right.”

“Good. Now, I'm going to help get Quinn out, but first, I need to get you away from Deirdre. She learned you were in the Pit.”

Somehow, that didn't surprise her. “Did Charon tell her?”

“Aye,” Broc mumbled. “Doona blame the Warrior, though. Deirdre has ways of extracting information whether a person wants to give it or not. I'm surprised you were able to stay in the Pit as long as you have.”

“It was Quinn. He kept me safe.”

Broc nodded. “Everyone knows that.”

“Deirdre won't be happy with him.”

“She ordered me to bring you to her. I doona know her plans for you, but they canna be good. I heard that she has used you to get Quinn into her bed faster.”

Marcail leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. “Dear God. That cannot happen. Quinn cannot give her the baby she wants.”

“I agree. I'm going to tell Deirdre that you escaped.”

“Won't she punish you?”

One side of Broc's mouth lifted in a half smile. “I can withstand it. The important thing is for you to get out of the mountain. Take this,” he said and handed her what looked like a black veil.

“What is it?”

“The servants wear them. It will cover your face and keep you unnoticed. Watch your hair though. All of the women have had their hair shorn off. Nothing of yours can show.”

“Does my gown matter?” she said as she looked down to find it stained.

“Aye. I've procured one of the servants' gowns for you as well.”

She prayed Broc was truly helping her and not setting her up for Deirdre's amusement. “Thank you.”

“The servants keep their heads down and doona
speak unless spoken to. You should be able to move freely. To depart the mountain, you need to leave this chamber and turn right. The corridor is long, but stay on it. Doona venture down any of the stairwells. If you stay on the main corridor it will lead you to the upper level.”

She stared at him, absorbing everything he said. “I understand.”

“There is a doorway on the top level. You'll have to walk past Deirdre's chambers. Her doors are always shut and Warriors are standing guard. Once you pass them, you'll take the next hallway to the left. It will take you up a flight of stairs to the door. The door isna easily seen by mortals. You'll have to search for the handle.”

“First hallway on the left after Deirdre's chamber,” she repeated.

“I'm not going to be able to be with you. When I leave, I'll have to raise the alarm immediately lest Deirdre become suspicious. Get changed and out of here as soon as you can.”

Marcail licked her lips and swallowed. “I will.”

He paused at the door and turned to look at her. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, Broc. If you ever need anything, all you need to do is ask.”

He gave her a curt nod, and then he was gone.

Marcail jerked off her gown and hurried to pull on the one given to her. It was coarse and bleached of all color, but it would help her blend in.

She left her hair tucked into the back of the gown and pulled the veil over her head, making sure her face was covered.

The veil was long and hung past her shoulders, and it wasn't easy to see through the dark material. Anything, however, was better than what awaited her with Deirdre.

Marcail blew out the candles and opened the door. She glanced first one way, then the other before she stepped into the corridor. She kept her head down as Broc had advised her.

Broc hadn't lied about spreading the alarm right away. Several Warriors came running toward her. Marcail's heart pounded so loudly in her chest she was sure they would hear it.

She stopped and put her back to the wall to allow the Warriors to pass. They didn't look her way as they rushed down the hall.

Marcail smiled to herself as relief poured through her. Thanks to Broc, she would make it out of the mountain for sure.

Quinn stared at the stone wall in front of him. He hadn't risen from the foot of Deirdre's bed since he'd learned she knew of Marcail.

All he could think about was Marcail and her extraordinary, striking turquoise eyes and her small braids that framed her face and were held together by gold bands. He could still taste the sweet innocence of her kiss, still feel the way her arms locked around him, and how he was the first to awaken the desires in her body.

He had thought she would be safe in the Pit until he could free her and his men. How had he been so wrong? Who had told Deirdre?

And then he knew. Charon.

The copper-skinned bastard would pay for putting Marcail's life in danger, of that Quinn vowed. He would enjoy making Charon suffer long and repeatedly.

Quinn raked his hands through his hair as he hung his head to his chest. Deirdre had left him in her chambers, locked he was sure. She hadn't said anything, just turned and left when one of the wyrran whispered something in her ear. He wasn't sure if Deirdre would release Marcail as he'd asked or not.

Maybe he could talk Deirdre out of killing her. At
least if Marcail was somewhere in the mountain he would be able to reach her somehow.

But he knew Deirdre wouldn't be satisfied until Marcail was dead. Deirdre was too spiteful to do anything else.

Quinn didn't think he could hate Deirdre more, but it seemed he was wrong. He was angry, aye, but the sadness over losing Marcail outweighed the fury.

He looked down at his hands. No claws were visible, and his skin held no hint of blackness at all. It was almost as if the god was no longer inside him.

The door to the chamber flew open. Quinn didn't turn to look at Deirdre. He could feel her black magic and the evil inside her.

“Marcail is waiting,” Deirdre said. “She's most insistent upon leaving my mountain. I don't understand how anyone could want to leave this beautiful place.”

Quinn didn't bother to reply. He rose and faced Deirdre, thankful that Marcail would be able to leave. “Take me to her.”

Deirdre raised a white brow. “Don't try to talk to her, Quinn. I'm allowing you to see her off. That should be good enough.”

It wasn't, but if he complained, Deirdre was likely to keep him in the chamber. “Take me to her,” he repeated.

Deirdre turned and walked from the room. Quinn followed, uncaring of the stairwells and doorways he passed. His attention was focused all on Marcail.

When he caught sight of her, it was like a burst of sunlight upon his face. She was so beautiful. He simply stared at the petite woman with her full curves that had captured his attention so quickly.

He wanted to walk to Marcail and pick up one of her
braids, which always fell in her face. He wanted to lean down and inhale the sunshine-and-rain scent that was hers alone. But he would have to be content simply to see her.

Marcail's turquoise eyes met his. She gave him a small smile before she followed the wyrran up a set of stairs to a door that stood open.

Quinn stepped back and ran into one of Deirdre's servants. She gasped, and Quinn murmured an apology. He was lost in Marcail's scent, a smell he knew he would never enjoy again.

He didn't look at the servant, not when Marcail was about to be lost to him forever. As soon as Marcail was through the door, Quinn took the stairs three at a time and stood in the doorway.

“I told you I would release her,” Deirdre said as she came to stand beside him.

Quinn nodded and watched Marcail pick her way down the treacherous mountain and its snow. “So you did.”

“Are you ready to keep your word?”

He sighed and turned his head to her. “I am.”

“Good. Return to my chamber and await me. I have some…unfinished business I must attend to first.”

Quinn walked down the stairs and past the servant he had stepped on. She didn't bow her head as the others did, and he couldn't help but feel as if she stared at him.

Everything in Deirdre's mountain was strange, so he didn't think too much about the servant. He returned to Deirdre's chamber and his seat upon the bed.

He should be elated that Marcail had her freedom, but his chest still felt heavy. His brothers would be left alone, and Marcail was out of the mountain. Was it
because his men were still locked away? It had to be, Quinn surmised. He'd gotten almost everything he wanted from Deirdre.

Now, the most difficult part stood in front of him.

 

Larena ran as fast as she could down the corridor. Ramsey had been right, it was decidedly too easy to get into Cairn Toul Mountain.

Once she had gotten inside at the base of the mountain, Larena had stood and listened to the Warriors. She heard them speak of a Druid that had somehow gotten free of Broc.

Larena wondered if the Druid really had broken free or if Broc had helped her. If this was the same woman Quinn had aided, then it stood to reason Broc was aiding her. Larena just hoped the Druid was able to stay out of Deirdre's path and get free.

As much as Larena wanted to help the woman, her first priority was Quinn. The thought of returning to Fallon and Lucan to tell them she hadn't saved Quinn was something she refused to do. If along the way she was able to help Marcail or anyone else, then Larena would do it.

She slowed and came to a halt as a group of Warriors came toward her. They couldn't see her, but if she didn't get out of the way, they would bump into her.

Larena opened the first door she came to and stepped inside. The chamber was empty, though dried blood littered the stones at her feet.

As the Warriors passed her she heard Quinn's name mentioned. She slipped out of the chamber and followed the Warriors long enough to learn that Deirdre had convinced Quinn to turn to her side.

The news was going to break Fallon's heart. Larena shook her head, still determined to find Quinn and see for herself.

She turned and retraced her steps. Ramsey and Galen had told her she would likely find Quinn in Deirdre's chambers if he was no longer being held as a prisoner. And after hearing the Warriors, it was obvious Quinn wasn't in the dungeons any more.

Once she found Quinn, then the real danger would begin. In order to speak to him, he would have to be alone. Since he didn't know of her, there was a chance he wouldn't believe her. But she had something that would make him believe.

 

Deirdre tapped her long nails on the rock wall. Quinn had believed he saw Marcail leave the mountain when in fact it was nothing more than magic—black magic. Had he tried to speak to Marcail, he would have realized it wasn't her.

Where the little bitch of a
mie
was, however, was what put Deirdre's anger high and kept her from finding Quinn so she could finally have his body all to herself.

“You've not found her?” Deirdre asked Broc.

The winged Warrior shook his head. “She was beaten down and knew her time of hiding was up. I didna expect her to make a run for it.”

“You know I will reprimand you for this. Severely.”

Broc bowed his head. “I expected no less.”

“Did you use your god, Broc?” Deirdre asked.

He gave a single nod. “She's still in the mountain.”

“But you can find anyone.”

His indigo Warrior eyes narrowed a fraction. “I've not failed you before. I willna fail you this time.”

She wasn't fooled by his humility. Inside Broc simmered a vengeful nature that she had thus far contained. How much longer she would have control over him she didn't know. But she would make sure she held him for as long as she wanted.

“You will help William and the others. I want this mountain searched from top to bottom. She's not made it out, and if I have anything to say about it, she won't.”

“Aye, mistress,” William said from beside Broc before they left.

William was still recovering from the torture Quinn had demanded, but William was always willing to serve.

Deirdre turned to give orders to the servant she had seen standing near them only to find the female gone.

“Where is the servant that was just here?” she asked the remaining Warriors.

A wyrran tugged on her skirt and pointed toward her chamber.

Deirdre's gaze narrowed. She petted the wyrran's head and started toward her chamber. She spotted the servant paused outside the door to her rooms. Deirdre came up behind her and ripped the veil from her head.

Instead of short hair, Deirdre saw sable hair tucked into the back of a gown. Marcail whirled around, the braids at the top and sides of her head spinning with her.

“You cannot stay away from him, can you?” Deirdre asked her. “You might have gotten away had you forgotten Quinn.”

“I could never forget him,” Marcail said through clenched teeth.

Deirdre laughed. “And that, my dear, will be your downfall. I have something special planned for you.”

With a snap of her fingers Warriors surrounded
Marcail. Deirdre looked the Druid up and down. She didn't know what had caught Quinn's attention, but as far as he knew Marcail was long gone. And she was going to make sure he never thought otherwise.

“Take her to the chamber to prepare,” Deirdre commanded them.

As much as Deirdre wanted to go to Quinn, she needed to take care of Marcail first. If Quinn ever discovered she had deceived him, he would never bed her and give her the child she needed.

Deirdre followed her Warriors as they led Marcail farther and farther from Quinn. Deirdre rubbed her hands together. She might not be able to kill Marcail, but she could do the next best thing.

The Warriors shoved Marcail into the chamber so that she fell to her hands and knees. Deirdre smelled her blood and magic and smiled.

“This is where I kill Druids.”

Marcail got to her feet and met her gaze. “You cannot kill me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“If you could, you would have already done it when I was first brought to the mountain. Instead, you tossed me into the Pit hoping one of the Warriors there would do the deed. And suffer the consequences of my grandmother's spells.”

Deirdre shrugged. “I suppose there is no point in denying anything now. Nay, Marcail, I'm not going to kill you. You see, your grandmother was a powerful Druid.”

“I know,” Marcail said.

Deirdre ignored the interruption. “She knew there was a chance I would capture you, so she made sure to
cast protection spells over you. They are many and are powerful enough that if you are killed, the person responsible will die a horrible death.”

“It's too bad you learned of the protections then,” Marcail said. “My death is nothing if it would bring about your own.”

“Ah, but you are a brave one,” Deirdre said. “Is it really courage, or fear so great it is either stand up to me or crumple at my feet begging for mercy?”

Marcail rolled her eyes. “I've seen what your black magic can do. I know how effortlessly you take someone's life. At one time I feared you, but you've shown that even with your power, you have a weakness.”

“I have no weakness.”

A slow smile spread over Marcail's face. “But you do. You want the child of prophecy. How long have you waited, Deirdre? Has your womb grown cold and hollow? Can your body even sustain life?”

Deirdre reached out and slapped Marcail before she could think better of it. The Druid's head jerked to the side with the force of the blow. Deirdre smiled at having put Marcail in her place. Until she heard the Druid laughing.

“Is that the best you can do?” Marcail asked as she touched her lip, which now bled.

Deirdre opened her mouth to respond when a vicious sting sliced through her. It was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt, and she knew in that instant it was the protections guarding Marcail.

Deirdre closed her eyes to battle the throbbing, but Marcail's laughter only grew. For many moments Deirdre could do nothing but stand and combat the agony
that filled her body. It was like hundreds of tiny blades piercing and slicing her skin.

And if it wasn't for her magic holding most of it at bay, it would have brought her to her knees. When she was finally able to withstand the pain, Deirdre opened her eyes to see Marcail smirking at her.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, because where you are going, there will be nothing. Grab her,” Deirdre yelled.