Free Wicked Highlander by Donna Grant Page B

chest.
    The torchlight flickered, revealing his copper skin and chin-length brown hair that parted in the middleand hung on either side of his face. His kilt was in better condition than the twins’, but she didn’t recognize the tartan. On either side of the Warrior’s temples were two thick horns that curved around his forehead.
    If the Warrior was any indication, Duncan was correct and it wasn’t Deirdre who was coming into the Pit. But if it wasn’t Deirdre, then who was it?
    â€œQuinn,” a deep voice echoed through the Pit.
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    Quinn wasn’t surprised to find Broc beckoning him. What did the flying Warrior want, though? Quinn had the urge to look back at Marcail, but he kept his head forward and trusted Duncan to watch over her.
    â€œDo you want me to come with you?” Arran asked.
    â€œNay. I’ll deal with Broc on my own.”
    Quinn hadn’t understood Broc’s need to torment him while he had been in the mountain, but the indigo Warrior made sure to look in on Quinn often enough.
    Whatever Broc wanted, he didn’t wish for the others to hear it. Broc wasn’t afraid of anything, not even being attacked in the Pit. It had been Quinn’s plan. Attack the Warrior, and he would get free. Though Arran and the twins were up for the task, the other Warriors refused to commit to the plan.
    Quinn took his time walking to the door that locked them in the Pit. As with everything, the door was made of stone, with a square large enough for food to be passed through but too small for anyone to escape through. Besides, Deirdre had used her magic, and no matter the power of a Warrior, he wouldn’t be able to flee the Pit without the door being opened.
    And even then it was risky.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Quinn demanded when he reached the door.
    Broc flexed his great wings that loomed over his head and folded his arms over his chest. “Your time is running out.”
    â€œDoes Deirdre send you here to annoy me, because you aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know?”
    Broc rolled his eyes. “You may be the smart one of the brothers, but sometimes, Quinn MacLeod, you are dense.”
    Now that got Quinn’s attention. He moved closer to the door and lowered his voice. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œDo you really believe Fallon and Lucan will come for you?”
    â€œWithout a doubt.” Though he’d had his reservations a time or two. After all, he hadn’t been the best of brothers.
    Broc glanced at the guard to his left and lowered his voice. “She will make it difficult for them and you. She wants you, Quinn, wants you enough to make sure you never leave.”
    â€œWhy are you telling me this?”
    â€œI think you need to understand where you stand. You’ve been in the Pit for a few weeks. You’ve stated your authority with the Warriors, which just proved to Deirdre that you are the one she needs.”
    Quinn narrowed his gaze on Broc. “It doesna matter what she threatens me with, I will never succumb to her.”
    â€œBe careful what you say,” Broc warned and backed up a step. “Your time is running out.”
    Quinn wanted to call Broc back and ask why he had repeated that last statement. Just what did Broc know? Quinn knew better than to ask the Warrior, though he longed to call him back. If Broc had wanted him to know, the Warrior would have said.
    Quinn turned and walked back to his cave. He didn’t stop at the entrance but continued inside to Marcail. As soon as she saw him, she stood, once Duncan had moved aside.
    â€œWho was that?” she asked.
    â€œOne of Deirdre’s Warriors, named Broc. He’s the only Warrior I know that has wings.”
    â€œWings?” she repeated, her eyes wide.
    Quinn nodded and glanced down to the torch that Duncan grabbed to relight. “Every Warrior is different.”
    â€œI’m beginning to realize