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cannot remember the spell, how were you to pass it on to your daughter or son?”
    â€œI don’t know.” She pushed her way between him and Arran and walked into the shadows.
    Quinn didn’t rush to follow her since she hadn’t left the cave. She stood facing the wall, her back to him. She shivered in the cold and rubbed her hands along her arms for warmth.
    He sighed and tried to think how best to approach Marcail. He wanted her to trust him, wanted her to look to him for everything. Quinn didn’t know where the feelings had come from, but once he recognized them, he couldn’t push them away.
    It was the sound of her indrawn breath, unsteady and low, that made him close the distance between them. He drew in a deep breath of her scent and let it wash over him. It soothed him in ways he couldn’t explain, just as her nearness sent his lust raging through his veins and his body shaking with need.
    He had to get a hold of himself. Quinn mentally shook his head to clear it, but there was nothing he could do for his cockstand. As long as Marcail was near, he wanted her.
    â€œWe’re just trying to discover why Deirdre didna kill you herself.” Quinn spoke softly, wanting to draw her closer. “It’s not like her, and she doesn’t pass up a chance to gain power. Not unless there’s a possibility she’ll be harmed.”
    And that’s when it hit him.
    â€œWhat else did your grandmother do to you, Marcail?”
    She slowly turned to face him, her body just a hands-width away. “She was a Druid, Quinn. She was always murmuring spells of some kind.”
    For the first time, Quinn allowed himself to look into her eyes. Thanks to the power of his god, he could see as well in the dark as he could in the light. And what he saw were eyes of turquoise, so enthralling he couldn’t look away. Sleeping, she had been beautiful. Awake, she was stunning.
    Every sensation she felt could be seen in her movements and her eyes. And right now she looked at him with such desperation and misery that he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right.
    The last woman he had held in his arms had been his wife—a wife who had wanted nothing to do with him once they were married.
    Quinn refused to think about Elspeth. Instead, he lost himself in the striking, petite Druid before him. “Is there a possibility that she could have protected you somehow?”
    â€œIf you knew my grandmother, you would know anything was possible. She always said my mother’s death could have been prevented, just as my brother’s could have.”
    â€œAnd your father?” Quinn asked.
    She looked away, a small frown marking her brow. “My father, like my husband, was killed protecting our homes from wyrran.”
    Quinn felt as if he’d been punched in the kidneys. “You were married?”
    â€œFor a short time.”
    â€œHow long ago?”
    She lifted one slim shoulder. “Over a year. It was an arranged marriage. They wanted the best fighter we had to protect me.”
    It wasn’t just what she said but the way she said it, with such resentment, that got Quinn’s attention. “You didna care for your husband?”
    â€œRory was a good man. I tried to be happy in my marriage.”
    â€œAnd your people wanted to protect you?”
    She nodded. “They’ve always sheltered my family.”
    Because she knew the spell to bind the gods? Or was it something else, something that Deirdre also knew and so didn’t—or couldn’t—kill Marcail?
    Too damned many questions.
    â€œWhat will happen now?” Marcail asked.
    Quinn couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and touching the flawless skin of her cheek. “You stay alive.”

Five
    Isla walked through the narrow corridors of the mountain alone. It was just as she preferred it. If she had her way, she would never see another face, human,