Wicked Highlander Read Online Free PDF

alleviating the aches of her body.
    She placed her hand on her forehead and felt a large, warm hand cover hers. “I have nothing to help with your pain.”
    Was there concern in his voice? She swallowed to wet her dry mouth. “I will be all right.”
    â€œYou are a healer, then?”
    She started to shake her head, but his hand held her still. Instead, she said, “Nay. I was taught how to speed the healing of my body.”
    Marcail wasn’t sure why she told the stranger that. She shouldn’t trust him, even if he had saved her. Or had he? Was it just another trick by Deirdre?
    â€œYou need to mend yourself, then,” he said, his husky voice dropping even lower. “By saving you, I’ve put you in terrible danger. I will protect you, but with your injuries, it will make it more difficult.”
    She never liked being a burden to anyone, but there was something in his voice, a thread of despair and heartache that mirrored her own and caused emotions to stir within her. She had to have his name. “Who are you?”
    â€œMy name doesna matter. Rest and heal yourself, Druid.”
    The pain of her body began to drag her under, but she fought to stay awake, to learn more about the mysterious man beside her. “Marcail. My name is Marcail.”
    â€œYou have my word I will protect you. Now sleep.”
    She could have sworn as she drifted off to sleep that he whispered her name.
    Â 
    Quinn lifted his hand from Marcail’s forehead once he was sure she was asleep. He picked up her small hand and placed it on her stomach. Unable to help himself, he ran his fingers over the back of her hand, feeling her soft, supple skin. It wasn’t until his claws touched her that he worried about her discerning what he was.
    It had been Warriors, after all, who had thrown her into the Pit. She trusted him now, but how long would that last once she realized she was surrounded by more Warriors—most of whom wanted her for her body?
    He told himself to leave her and let her sleep, but he couldn’t make himself rise. He didn’t fight the urge to stay near her. It seemed harmless enough. But when the desire to touch her rose within him, he fisted his hands on his thighs until he shook with the crushing need to lay his hands on her again. Was this how Lucan had felt when he’d had Cara in his arms?
    Quinn knew in that instant he had made a fatal mistake. There was something about the female that moved a deep, dark primordial reaction inside him. That emotion could very well be the death of him.
    With a curse Quinn leapt to his feet and stalked to the cave entrance. Marcail was too tempting, too sweetto be left alone with the likes of him. He would only bring her down as he had everything else in his life.
    â€œShe woke?” Arran asked.
    Quinn almost didn’t answer. “Briefly. She’s in a tremendous amount of pain. However, she told me she knew how to help herself heal.”
    â€œNot surprising. Every Druid holds a special kind of magic. It’s lucky for the female that she can mend herself.”
    Quinn grunted, not wishing to speak of Marcail any more since his body hungered for her so. “Any sign of trouble?”
    Arran crossed his arms over his chest and jerked his chin to the left. “They smell her. God’s blood, Quinn, we all smell her. She’s like a feast to a starving man, in more ways than one. We’re going to have our hands full.”
    â€œI’ll be watching her myself.” Quinn knew his voice came out more of a growl than anything, and Arran’s narrowed white gaze let Quinn know the Warrior heard the challenge in it.
    â€œDo you think I would fight you for her?” Arran asked, his voice hard with disbelief. “I gave you my word I would stand by your side. Do you doubt me?”
    â€œWhat I question is the need within all of us—myself included.”
    Arran blew out a breath and raked a hand down his