Wicked Highlander by Donna Grant Read Free Book Online Page A

either. “What is it you want to know?”
    â€œIs it true the Druid knows how to bind the gods?”
    â€œYou know it is.”
    Grania laughed again, the laugh that Isla used to do anything to hear. “So it is. Once again, Mother and her foresight has helped Deirdre in her quest.”
    â€œIt has.”
    The child resumed her seat on the rocks. “Now, I was told you saw the mie drop into the Pit. The servants didn’t see what happened after that. I want to know what you saw.”
    â€œThe Warriors attacked her.”
    â€œBut she isn’t dead, is she?”
    Isla hesitated. There was something in the way Grania spoke that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “I didn’t stay to see the body. Why?”
    â€œThe mie has been protected with a spell. Whoever spills her blood will die a horrible death. Since I’ve heard no screams of pain from the Pit, I assume the Druid isn’t dead, only slightly injured.”
    At least Isla now knew why Deirdre hadn’t claimed Marcail’s blood for her own. However, it wouldn’t take Deirdre long to realize Marcail wasn’t dead. And then what?
    â€œNow tell me,” Grania demanded, “did all the Warriors attack the Druid?”
    â€œNearly. It was brutal. You would have loved it. Now, I must go. I have duties to see to.”
    Grania’s blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me summon you. You are my aunt, after all. You should visit me often. If I have to call for you again, you won’t enjoy what I do to you.”
    â€œIt is never my intention to ignore you, Grania. My duties take me away from the mountain as you well know.”
    But Grania was no longer paying attention. Isla took measured steps out of the chamber. Not until she was in the hallway did she breathe freely. Her once vivacious niece had been turned into a wicked monster with a thirst for blood and gore that would rival the Romans’.

    Marcail missed the sun. It had only been hours since she last saw it, but already she yearned for it. There was no need for Deirdre to torture her or throw her into the Pit. Just deny her the warmth and light of the sun and Marcail would slowly go insane.
    â€œI’ve brought you something,” Quinn said as he squatted before her as she sat on the floor.
    Marcail’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light well enough that she was able to see Quinn’s face clearly. Finally. He had pulled back his hair into a queue at the base of his neck, revealing a face women would die for.
    Quinn’s was perfection. His strong jawline was dusted with dark whiskers, giving him a lethal appearance and accentuating his firm lips and hollowed cheeks. The beard wasn’t full, which told her he had shaved not too long ago. Though she didn’t mind the beard, she wanted to see him without it.
    His forehead was high with dark brows that slashed over eyes of the palest green. She had seen enough of his silhouette in her short time to know he was as tall and muscular as any man in the Pit. But there was a presence about him, an air of command, that got everyone’s attention. Including her own.
    â€œMarcail?”
    She blinked and made herself look away from his spectacular eyes. “Forgive me. I’ve never seen eyes the color of yours.”
    One corner of his mouth lifted. “I could say the same for yours.”
    For a moment they stared at each other.
    Finally, Quinn cleared his throat. “Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, then?”
    â€œThey are better, aye. The light from the torch also helps. You said you brought me something?”
    â€œAye. Food. It isn’t much, but it’s something.”
    Marcail had been so wrapped up in being in the dark that she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Just then her stomach growled.
    â€œEat your fill,” Quinn said as he handed her a loaf of bread. “I will get more if you need it.”
    Marcail