Wicked Highlander Read Online Free PDF Page B

face. “None of us deserves to be here, the Druid especially because she doesn’t stand a chance against us in a fight. Did she say anything else?”
    â€œShe told me her name. It’s Marcail.”
    â€œMarcail,” Arran repeated. “An unusual name. Shedidn’t happen to say why Deirdre didn’t kill her, did she?”
    Quinn shook his head. “Not yet.”
    â€œLet’s hope she wakes soon so we can learn more about her.” Arran turned and looked at Marcail over his shoulder.
    Quinn watched Arran, waiting for the moment when he would have to battle one of the few men he gave his trust to.
    â€œShe reminds me of my sister,” Arran said after a lengthy pause.
    â€œYou had a sister?”
    Arran nodded and looked away from Marcail, his brow furrowed. “Two actually. One older and one younger. Marcail reminds me of my youngest sister. She was small and always into some kind of trouble. I used to call her my little sprite.”
    â€œWhat happened to her?” It was out of Quinn’s mouth before he thought better of it.
    â€œShe died,” Arran murmured absently.
    Quinn didn’t press for more. There wasn’t a Warrior out there that hadn’t suffered terribly when Deirdre found them. Quinn had discovered this the hard way.
    With Arran lost in the memories of his past, Quinn walked to the twins. Both brothers were tall and thickly muscled. They stood similarly with their feet apart and their arms crossed over their chests as they stared at the other Warriors, waiting for someone to make a move against Quinn.
    Duncan and Ian looked so much alike that they wore their hair differently to help people know who was who. Both had light brown hair that was streaked with gold,but Ian wore his shorn close to his head while Duncan preferred to let his grow down his back.
    Ian turned his head to glance at him. “The Druid woke.”
    It wasn’t a question. Quinn nodded. “She’s healing herself now. I plan on questioning her more once she wakes again.”
    â€œDoes she know where she’s at?” Duncan asked.
    Quinn shrugged. “If you two find any food, let me know. Marcail is going to be hungry.”
    They only got fed once a day, and then only some bread. But it was enough for them. Quinn planned on giving her most, if not all, his food if she needed it.
    â€œI’ll see to it,” Ian said and walked away.
    Duncan scratched his chin and watched his twin. “How long do you think it will take for Deirdre to realize the Druid isn’t dead?”
    â€œNot long enough,” Quinn admitted. “Not nearly long enough.”

Four
    When Marcail next woke, she felt immensely better. There was still a dull ache in her head, but it would fade. She tried taking a deep breath and was rewarded with no pain.
    In the distance she could hear the chanting again, as well as music. For an instant, Marcail thought she sensed magic in the tune, but just as before, it faded before she could discern more of it.
    It was a heartbeat later that she realized she wasn’t alone. Was it the man with the voice that made her stomach flutter? Or was it someone—or some thing —else?
    Marcail opened her eyes to the darkness once more. She became aware of the steady dripping of water nearby, and with the cool air, she knew she was still in Deirdre’s mountain.
    â€œHow are you feeling?”
    She turned her head toward the now familiar voice. He wasn’t sitting with her as before but stood off to the side. Try as she might she couldn’t discern more than his silhouette in the gloom. She wanted to see his face, to know his name. “I’m better.”
    â€œGood.”
    Marcail sat up slowly, testing her body. When theaches didn’t scream in pain, she swung her legs to the ground. That’s when she saw that what little light there was came from a torch on the outside of what looked like a cave. The Pit.
    Across