Donna Grant: Wicked Highlander

Yet a small part of her wanted to give it another try. She wanted as far away from Deirdre as she could go. So she ran and didn’t look back. Then she thought of her sister and niece. They needed her, even if they didn’t know it.

Isla found a horse and quickly returned to the mountain. She hadn’t run far, and she arrived at Cairn Toul in less than a day. Once inside, however, she knew something had happened.

And she had an idea it was all because of Quinn.

The MacLeod brothers weren’t going to stand by and watch Deirdre take Quinn. Isla had expected Lucan and Fallon weeks ago. Now, it seemed, they had arrived.

Isla made her way to the stairs that would lead her to Phelan. She lost her footing several times on the slick stairs, and once nearly went over the side.

She slowed her steps even though she knew time was of the essence. Her body, however, wouldn’t keep up with what she wanted to do. Blood soaked her right sleeve and dripped down to her hand. There was also something running down her back, which she suspected was more blood.

With no idea how many injuries she had or how much longer her body would keep on its feet, Isla trudged down the stairs. As soon as she spotted Phelan from the stairs her legs gave out and she hit the steps with a jarring thud.

Phelan’s head jerked in her direction and he growled.

She didn’t have the energy to battle words with him today. She would see him freed, though. His chains weren’t locked with a key, but with black magic.

Isla lifted her hand and focused her magic on the chains. She repeated the words she had heard Deirdre say only once before, but Isla had memorized them, hoping that one day she could free Phelan.

Phelan’s cuffs released and fell from his wrists with a thunk. Isla inhaled deeply as her vision swam. She closed her eyes to keep her bearings. After a moment she opened them to find Phelan standing over her.

“Why?” he demanded.

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re free, Phelan. Run as far from this place as you can.”

He glanced up the stairs and cocked his head at the sounds drifting down to them. “What is going on up there?”

“I suspect there has been a revolt against Deirdre. She took one of the MacLeod brothers.”

“Quinn,” Phelan said.

Isla nodded. “His brothers, Lucan and Fallon, have come for him. The noise you’re hearing is the prisoners being released.”

Phelan leaned close to her and sniffed. “You’re injured.”

“Leave the mountain. The world has changed much since you were brought here. Be prepared for that.”

He studied her for long, quiet moments. “And you? What will you do?”

Isla thought of Lavena and Grania. “I have one other thing I need to do.” She just hoped she had the strength to make it back up the stairs and complete her task.

“You are dying.”

Isla smiled sadly.

In the next instant, Phelan had lifted her in his arms and bounded up the stairs. He set her gently on her feet when they came to the doorway.

Isla grabbed hold of the wall and forced a smile. “Good luck to you. If you ever need anything, search for the MacLeods. They are good men you can trust.”

He didn’t bother to respond, just lifted his head and looked around. A moment later he was running down the corridor.

Isla had managed to free one of the people she was responsible for. Two more, and maybe she could find some peace in her nightmares.

Deirdre couldn’t believe how easy it had been to trap Marcail, though she wished she had thought of it earlier instead of putting Marcail in the Pit with Quinn. That hadn’t gone according to plan.

In fact, there wasn’t anything to do with Quinn that had gone as intended. But that would change now. He was under her control, and it wouldn’t take much to have him give in to his god.

Once that happened, she would have the first of the MacLeods with Lucan and Fallon to follow soon after.

She turned to the door to make her way back to Quinn when she heard an inhale of breath. Deirdre paused. She knew that sound. It was Lavena about to have a vision.

Deirdre hurried back to the Druid. Lavena’s ice-blue eyes clouded over as the black flames licked at her face. When she spoke, her voice sounded as though it came from deep in a tunnel, soft and airy.

“They are coming,” Lavena said. “You took his woman, and you will pay.”

Anger pulsed through Deirdre. She knew Lavena spoke of Quinn, and she could assume the “they” was Lucan and Fallon come to help their brother.

“Who told Quinn about Marcail?” Deirdre asked.

Sometimes Lavena responded, sometimes she didn’t.

This time the seer chose not to. “Your death is imminent.”

Deirdre had never had cause to disbelieve the seer, but she knew she had more than enough magic to battle a thousand Warriors.

“Then let them come,” Deirdre said and faced the door.

Quinn released his god. Behind him his brothers and the other Warriors waited for him to open the door that would lead to their greatest battle yet.

“Watch her hair,” Galen cautioned.

Larena grinned. “I’ll take care of her hair.”

Quinn faced the other Warriors and looked into the faces of the men — and woman — who had risked their lives for him. Before him stood powerful Warriors who fought for good over evil and hadn’t asked to have a god inside them. “Deirdre’s power has grown. Be prepared for anything.”

“If she’s so powerful how can we defeat her?” Logan asked.

Ramsey smiled slowly. “We attack together and continue attacking. She cannot fight off all of us.”

“She won’t be alone,” Quinn said. “There will be wyrran and Warriors with her. If you encounter William, the royal blue Warrior, hold him for me. I owe him a leisurely death.”

“Consider it done,” Hayden vowed. “I’ll find him myself.”

Quinn gave a nod to Hayden. “It’s time for Deirdre’s reign to end.”

“Ready whenever you are, brother,” Fallon said.

Quinn found himself praying to God, something he hadn’t done in centuries. The trepidation inside him for Marcail grew with each beat of his heart.

He turned to the door and kicked it open. Deirdre stood in front of a stone table, an evil smile tilting her lips.

“I’ve been waiting for you, lover,” she said.

Broc left Arran and the twins to free the rest of the prisoners. Ever since he had heard the roar down below, he knew a Warrior was probably chained in the darkness. No one was allowed to take the stairs that led below the earth’s surface, but Broc no longer served Deirdre and he would make sure all his fellow Warriors were free.

He walked through the door onto the first step and gaped at the large cavern. Though it would be too dark for a mortal to see, with the god inside him, Broc had no problem.

The stairs would take too long to climb down, so he spread his wings and soared to the bottom.

Broc landed, stunned to find whoever had been held down here had already been freed. He was glad to see it, though he would have liked to know who the Warrior was and why Deirdre kept him separate from everyone else.

The sound of battle could be heard echoing through the rocks. Broc’s wings lifted him as he flew back to the doorway.

There was an epic battle raging, and his help would be needed.

Quinn bared his fangs at Deirdre. “Did you really think you could deceive me as you did?”

“It would have worked,” she said with a sly grin. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?” Fallon said. “He knows what you’ve done. Return Marcail to him.”

Deirdre threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, I’m afraid that’s not possible now.”