Forbidden Highlander (32 page)

Fallon withdrew from her only to thrust long and deep. Again and again he pulled out and plunged within her, harder, faster. She matched his tempo, their gazes locked.

Her mouth opened on a silent scream as her slick walls convulsed around him. Fallon continued to pump inside her, trying to draw out her orgasm as long as he could before he threw back his head and filled her with his seed.

Fallon’s body jerked with the force of his climax, but Larena was there, her arms wrapped around his neck as she smoothed the hair from his face.

“You keep surprising me,” she whispered in his ear before she bit down on the lobe.

Fallon trembled and ground his hips against her. He was still buried inside her, still hard. “It’s you. You do this to me.”

“I love you.”

He pulled back until he could see her eyes. He knew she cared for him, that much was obvious by her earlier words, but he hadn’t expected to hear her declaration of love.

“Larena…”

She placed her finger on his lips. “I tried to deny it, but the feeling continued to grow. I love you more than life itself, Fallon MacLeod. I’ll take the fights and the laughter and however many years we have together, as long as I have your love.”

“Ah, God, Larena. You’ll always have my love.”

He carried her to the shore were he sat with her on a boulder.

“I know I shouldn’t have left the cave, but I needed to talk to you.”

Fallon shrugged and intertwined his fingers with hers. “If any wyrran saw us, we’ll take care of them.”

“I endangered the others.”

“Most of them are Warriors still eager for battle. It will be all right.”

She turned her head to him and smiled. “I think I will want to take midnight swims often.”

“I agree.” Fallon stared at the stars above him in a sky that had turned from black to light gray. Everything was almost as it should be. “Only Quinn is missing.”

“We’ll get him back,” Larena said, and kissed his shoulder. “Quinn will be back with you and Lucan where he belongs.”

Fallon blew out a breath. “I hope you’re right.”

To his surprise, Larena sat up and tugged on his arm. “I’ve missed every sunrise with you. I’m not going to miss another.”

Fallon jumped from the boulder. “Stay right there.” He hurried to put on his breeches and boots. He hid the gold beneath the tunic she had discarded before her swim.

He walked back to her and handed her the tunic. Her forehead furrowed when she felt the gold through the fabric.

Fallon waited with bated breath for her to find it. When she pulled the golden torc from the folds of his tunic and stared at it, he thought he would die of anxiety.

Her eyes shifted to him. “A torc with a boar’s head.”

“It matches mine. I had it made before Deirdre destroyed my clan, in the hopes of one day giving it to the woman I would spend the rest of my life with.”

Larena caressed the torc lovingly. “You want me to have this?”

“I want you to marry me.”

“Fallon, are you sure?”

He laughed. “You’re the one thing I am sure of. Say you’ll be my wife, Larena.”

“Oh, aye, Fallon,” she said with a wide smile. “If you want me, you can have me.”

He pulled her off the boulder and into his arms. “I want to get married immediately. I want everyone to see the torc.”

“Your mark wasn’t enough?” she asked with a chuckle.

“I need to bind you to me any way I can.”

She leaned back and kissed him. “You already did with the most powerful thing you could. Your love.”

Larena blew out a nervous breath and touched the torc that now rested around her neck. The weight of it felt right against her skin, as if it should have been there long before. The bailey was filled with the Warriors and Druids she now called her family.

“Are you sure?” Fallon asked her.

Larena raised a brow at him. “If you ask me that again, I swear I will have to beat you.”

He smiled, but she saw the worry in his dark green eyes.

“I won’t do anything reckless, Fallon. We just got married. Now, let me do what I need to do to find Quinn.”

Fallon ran a hand through his hair and briefly closed his eyes. “I pray I’m doing the right thing. I’ll never forgive myself if someone gets taken or hurt.”

“We will heal,” Lucan said. “Now, let’s get moving before Cara comes up with a good reason to go with us.”

Larena glanced at her new sister-in-law, who stood on the steps of the castle together with Sonya. Cara’s eyes were clouded with apprehension, her hands fisted at her sides. Larena couldn’t imagine being left behind, so she understood Cara’s feelings.

Next to Cara was Malcolm. She still couldn’t believe what Ramsey had told her and Fallon just the night before. Not even seeing the Monroe name on the Scroll helped things.

She had foolishly thought she was the Monroe Warrior, but it seemed her goddess came through her mother’s family. It took seeing her mother’s maiden name and the Monroe name for it to finally sink in.

It was Fallon’s suggestion that they keep the news from everyone, especially Malcolm. Ramsey hastily agreed, but Larena couldn’t help but worry about Malcolm; she feared he would be taken by Deirdre to be turned into a Warrior.

“Come, Fallon,” she urged her new husband. “Let us bring Quinn home.”

“Aye,” the other Warriors shouted.

Fallon’s eyes narrowed and glanced into the distance where Deirdre’s mountain lay. “Hang on, Quinn. We’re coming for you.”

Malcolm stood on the steps of the castle and watched the small group leave. His arm ached constantly, and no matter what magic Sonya and Cara used, nothing helped. He had realized after waking in the cave that his arm was useless.

He had promised Larena that he would wait for her at the castle before heading to the Monroe lands, but it was a lie. He would never return to his clan because they wouldn’t accept him. Not now, now that he was half a man.

Malcolm nodded to Camdyn, who had stayed behind to protect the Druids. At least he knew Camdyn. Malcolm liked the other Warriors, but he didn’t belong here. He wasn’t a Warrior or a Druid. He was nothing but a mortal that was of no help in the coming war.

Yet, Fallon had offered him a home at MacLeod Castle. Malcolm hadn’t expected that, but it reinforced his opinion that Fallon was the right man for his cousin.

He gripped his shoulder with his good hand and tried to push past the pain. It wasn’t as if he were entirely useless. He had learned to wield a sword using either arm, and he was just as good with his left as he had been with his right.

Sonya’s intelligent amber gaze watched him. He guessed she knew he lied about the pain. The Druid had said nothing, probably to spare his pride, but she didn’t like that he had gotten out of bed that morning.

He snorted as he turned to enter the castle. The scars that now showed on his face, neck, arms, and chest would have been enough to wound any man’s pride. Add the loss of an arm, and it could destroy a man.

“There are things I can give you to help with the ache,” Sonya said. “More magic could help your shoulder as well.”

Malcolm glanced at the Druid but continued walking. As usual, her red hair was pulled back into a single braid that fell down her back. “I need to cope with it.”

“You are still healing, Malcolm. It has only been a few days since you were brought to us.”

He halted and turned to her, his anger bubbling to the surface. “You know as well as I that I’ve lost the use of my arm. Admit it. Not even your magic could heal it.”

“I won’t admit any such thing. We won’t know the extent of your injuries until the bone has fully mended. With my magic that could be only days. The best thing you can do is keep the arm still. Larena has been through enough. Do not hurt yourself while feeling sorry for yourself, because it will only wound her.”

Malcolm blew out a breath and nodded. Her words were the truth, although he wanted to inflict pain on himself for not being strong enough to fight off the Warriors who attacked him. “I don’t need your herbs, Druid. I will handle the pain.”

Sonya watched him walk slowly up the stairs to his new chamber. She ached for the Highlander, but there was nothing more she could do for him. Her magic was strong, but she couldn’t heal everything. What was done to his arm was more extensive than she had let the others know. It was more than just a break.

Deirdre’s Warriors had crushed the bones in his hands and arm. It was why he was in constant pain, as his bones continued to mend. As much as she hated to admit it, the odds of him having the full use of his arm again were slim, even with as much magic as she had used.

She knew there was a future for him at MacLeod Castle, but to what depth she couldn’t see. It was one of the few times she wished her sister, Anice, was near so she could see into the future.

But maybe it was better this way.

Sonya blew out a breath and returned to her chamber to finish making the brew that would keep Cara and Larena from becoming pregnant. Everyone doubted the possibility of a Druid getting with child by a Warrior, but Sonya knew differently. Now was not the time for any of them to be pregnant.

Quinn opened his eyes not to the darkness of his prison, but to a room filled with light from many candles. He knew instantly where he was—Deirdre’s chamber.

He sat up slowly, disgusted to find he was naked beneath the single linen sheet. When he spotted clothes folded on a chair, he jumped from the bed and hastily dressed in the trousers, tunic, and boots.

After taking quick stock of his body, he realized he was completely healed. He had no idea how long he had been in Deirdre’s bed, or just what she had done to him while there, but he wanted out. Immediately.

“You’re finally awake.”

He jumped at the sound of the hated voice. Quinn turned and found Deirdre in the doorway. He could barely stand to look at her as she leaned against the door frame in what was intended to be a seductive pose.

“What did you do to me?” he demanded.

Her brows lifted. “Do? Why, I healed you. After I punished the Warriors, of course, for beating you as they did.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

She pushed away from the door and walked to the bed. She leaned down and touched the pillow where his head had been. “I want you as mine, Quinn. You’ve always known that. I thought I could break you. When I captured you, your god almost had complete control over you.”

“Almost.”

She lifted a thin shoulder. “I will do what I need to do to ensure you are mine in the end. I have great plans for us, Quinn.”

“And if I don’t want to be a part of them?”

“Oh, you will.”

He fisted his hands and struggled to manage his rage. It would do no good for him to lose control now. “I would rather die first.”

Suddenly, Deirdre’s hair lashed out to wrap around his neck and squeezed. Quinn wanted to claw at the strands, but he held himself still, his gaze never leaving hers.

God’s blood, how he hated looking at her, talking to her. Her shell of a body might be beautiful, but her soul was so drenched in malevolence that it made him gag.

“I offer you power beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Keep it,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m not interested.”

Her hair tightened around his throat. “I thought showing you how things could be by my side might change your mind, but I can see that I was wrong. Maybe some time in the Pit is what you need.”

Quinn grinned. There was nothing she could do to him that would frighten him now. Not even sending him to the Pit, which he knew men rarely came out of alive. He was already in hell, already dead as far as he was concerned.

“Do your worst, you evil bitch.”

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WICKED
HIGHLANDER
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

“You’ve got a rather nasty bump on the back of your head, and I think your ribs are bruised.”

Marcail stilled at the sound of the deep, rich voice that sliced through her like the mist that came down from the mountains. A shiver raked her body that had nothing to do with the cool temperatures that surrounded her.

For that short moment, she forgot the throbbing of her head and how it hurt to breathe. All she could think about was who belonged to such a sensual, commanding voice.

And did she dare find out?

With each pounding inside her head, she recalled everything that had happened over the past week, beginning with her running through the forest and being cornered by Dunmore and the wyrran. Then she had been brought to Deirdre and thrown into the Pit.

She remembered being surrounded by Warriors before something big and black leapt on top of her. She sucked in a sharp breath and instantly regretted it as the ache exploded in her chest.

“Easy.”

The same seductive, smooth voice surrounded her once more, his tone left her feeling safe and protected. It was a ruse, she knew, but in her current condition there was nothing she could do about it.

Marcail licked her lips, then bit back a moan as that simple movement caused pain to burst in her head once more. She lay there a moment, thinking she heard what sounded like a chant. The more she tried to listen to it, the faster it faded until there was nothing.

Any moment she expected her head to explode from the pain. When nothing happened, she cracked open an eye to see she was surrounded in darkness. She hated the dark because of what it represented—evil. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and concentrated on 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.”

“You are a healer then?”

She went 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’d 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?