Bedeviled (19 page)

Maggie slumped against the tree and didn’t even notice how the rough bark scratched her skin through her sweater. “I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, Culhane, but lately my luck sucks.”

“She’s not what I expected.”

Culhane shot McCulloch a hard look. “What does that mean?”

The other warrior’s eyes lit with humor, but he was smart enough not to smile. “Only that I thought the chosen one would be big. Strong. Have a face like an ax blade and a body the size of mine.”

Culhane didn’t know whether to defend Maggie or apologize. He looked out into the main room of his house and watched as she wandered in a slow circle, taking in everything. He hadn’t meant to bring her here. Never considered bringing her to his home. Yet here, at least, no one would see her. At least, no one who would tell Mab.

Here in Culhane’s rooms at the Warrior’s Conclave, Maggie was surrounded by warriors who would defend her presence in the hopes that she might actually lead the revolution they all wanted.

“If you like,” McCulloch offered, “while you tend to your duties, I’ll see that Maggie is kept . . . entertained.”

Culhane shot his friend a look hard enough to drill holes in his body. “She stays here. Alone, if I’m not with her.”

“Is that wise?” the other warrior asked. “Isn’t it better for her to meet the rest of us?”

“She did meet you all last night.” He’d watched her as she laughed and talked with his fellow warriors, and he’d quietly steamed that she never laughed like that with him. She didn’t look at the others with the same gleam of suspicion in her eyes. She hadn’t treated any of the others as she did him—as if he were the enemy.

McCulloch frowned. “Did she say anything about that?”

She always had something to say, Culhane told himself. And after meeting a roomful of Fenian warriors, Maggie hadn’t disappointed him.

“Your friends are gorgeous,” she’d said, astonished as the last of the warriors left them in peace. “I mean, seriously good-looking. Aren’t there any ugly Faeries?”

“No, we leave ugliness for the pixies.”

“Good plan.” Then she’d looked up at him and smiled at his glowering frown. “Hey, you’re not worried, are you? Well, don’t be. You’re way better-looking than your friends. Plus, there’s the whole sexy frowning thing you do.”

Culhane shook his head at the memory and didn’t want to admit even to himself that he’d enjoyed her words more than he should have. It had taken the sting out of the fact that she’d seemed to enjoy herself so with the warriors. Though it wasn’t important what she thought of him, he thought. The only important matter now was Maggie’s training—and the battle with Mab.

“Even though her ears aren’t wholly pointed, she’s a fine-looking part-Fae,” McCulloch mused again.

Gritting his teeth, Culhane pointed out, “What she looks like has nothing to do with the prophecy.”

“True enough,” his friend agreed with a slow smile, “but for myself, better to have a chosen one who’s pleasing to look at. After all, if things go as you planned, she’ll be our next queen.”

“She will,” Culhane said, and even to his own ears it sounded like a vow. One he had every intention of seeing come to fruition. “Once she’s on the throne we’ll finally have a voice in ruling Otherworld.”

“Through you as her consort, of course.”

“Of course.” That had always been the idea. Rule from behind the scenes. Bend Maggie to his will and see to it that the changes necessary to his world were made. Although now he was beginning to see that “bending” Maggie wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought when they first went into this. Still, she would listen to him. He was almost sure of it.

It was a good plan.

“Thousands of years we’ve taken to get to this point,” McCulloch said, turning his head to look at the woman eating her way through a bowl of fruit. He shook his head. “Now it’s all come down to a mortal woman who talks too much and is always hungry.”

“She’s not wholly mortal anymore.” Culhane watched her pick up a pale blue pear and take a bite. “She’s Fae. Or soon will be.”

“Will it be enough?”

A question Culhane didn’t want to entertain.

Maggie’s stay in Otherworld had so far been pretty boring. Okay, the scenery was nice. And she wasn’t talking about the view out the window. Culhane’s fellow warriors looked like they could be headliners at Chippendale’s or something. Maybe a classier place than that. These guys were impossible-to-describe gorgeous. There wasn’t a single ugly Fae warrior in the tree.

Yes, tree.

She was living in a gigantic tree with windows overlooking a fast-moving river and a thick, dark green forest beyond. Probably a pixie housing project. Culhane’s rooms were big; round, of course; and furnished with all the comfort of a prison cell.

There didn’t seem to be a soft surface anywhere. But then, she thought, big, tough warriors probably weren’t interested in
comfy
. But she was. Even the chairs were plain wood, and her butt would have given a lot for a pillow.

Pushing up and out of the chair she’d been planted in most of the day, Maggie walked to where Culhane sat at a table, studying maps.

“Can’t we go outside?”

“Too dangerous.”

“I’m bored.”

“Practice your training.”

“Uh-huh.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “That’ll happen.”

When he scowled at her briefly, she pointed out, “We’re in a
tree
, Culhane. How’m I supposed to practice flips and falls inside a tree, for God’s sake? Besides, I don’t have anyone to practice
on
, remember? To practice fighting you really sort of need an opponent. I want to go home. I miss Nora. And Eileen and Sheba. Hell, I even miss
Bezel
.”

“You’ve only been here two days.”

“Feels like longer.” She turned away, walked back to the window and looked out at the river again. She’d spent a lot of her time the last couple of days doing that. Captivated by the rush and flow of the river, she wondered where it led—and how she could get there.

“Why bring me to Otherworld if all you’re going to do is lock me up in your house?”

He leaned one arm on the table. “You needed to meet the warriors who will fight for you once you’re queen. You needed to see the world that hangs in the balance. You needed to
know
that this is not a game. Not a choice.”

All right, she’d give him that. Up until he’d swept her into Otherworld, Maggie had managed to convince herself that there was still a way out for her. That the world of the Fae had nothing to do with her life. That she could walk away whenever she wanted and reclaim the life she’d once thought so routine.

But the truth was, there was no backing out.

Otherworld was real. And beautiful. Filled with beings going about
their
ruts. How was she supposed to ignore them now that she knew they existed? But damn, she couldn’t just sit in a tree for much longer without going ape shit.

Whirling around, she planted both hands on her hips. “Come on. Let’s do something.”

“You are worse than a pixie.”

She grinned. “Good. Insults. At least it’s conversation.”

He sighed, leaned back in his chair and kicked his long legs out in front of him. “I’ve never known anyone who talks as much as you do.”

She ignored that. After all, he was right. She
did
talk a lot. “So, tell me about this place.”

“It’s Otherworld. I have told you.”

“No,” she said slowly and patiently, “this particular place. All of these warriors. Is this a guys-only tree?”

“We live in one place, yes. We train together—”

“Training again.”

He ignored her. “We work together.”

“But no girls allowed?”

“There are no female warriors,” he acknowledged.

“Why not?” She wandered the circumference of his tree room again. “Seems to me that a flying warrior would be a good thing in battle.”

“Female Fae don’t fight.” By the look in his eyes, he was astonished she’d even considered it.

“Have you ever asked them?”

His frown deepened. She wouldn’t have thought that possible.

“No, we haven’t.”

“Never know till you ask.” She stopped, looked at a lethal-looking sword hanging on the wall, then moved on. “So how long have you lived here?”

“Since I became a warrior.”

“So. Long time?”

“Yes.”

“How long?” Maggie tilted her head and looked at him. Culhane might appear to be about thirty-five, but she knew damn well he was older. He was always talking about
centuries.
She’d just never thought about how much older he really was.

“Millennia.”

Staggered, Maggie stared at him. “I suck at math, but even I know that’s at least a thousand years.”

“More.”

“My God, Culhane . . .” Maggie shook her head, took a step toward him, then stopped again. “
More?
You’re really old. Seriously old.”

A sneering smile touched his mouth, then was gone again in an instant. “Yes and you, in comparison, are hardly more than an infant.”

“Yeah?” Maggie walked closer, her gaze on his. When she reached the table she planted both hands on the cool wood surface and leaned in toward him. Just as she’d expected, his gaze dropped to her breasts. “Well, I’ve seen the way you look at me, old man, so I’m guessing you’re what we call a cradle robber.”

He looked up into her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.”

He pushed one hand through his thick black hair, and just for a second Maggie considered doing it for him.

“What are you thinking now?”

“Hmm?” She smiled. “Nothing.” Nothing she was willing to admit. Nope. If he could pretend that there was nothing going on between them, then she could, too. Damned if she’d be the first to admit that she
really
wanted to get him into bed. Heck, she didn’t even want to admit to
herself
that she liked—okay, maybe more than liked—him. Much easier all the way around to keep this on the level of simple lust.

Besides, she was twisted up into knots only because she was trapped in a tree! What she needed was to get out. To do something.
Anything
.

Abruptly he stood up from the table. “I’ll help you with your training.”

“You?” Maggie grinned up at him. “The great Fenian warrior is going to train me like a common pixie?”

Steel was in his spine, but amusement in his eyes. “Bezel is no common pixie.”

“That’s good to know. God, thinking about a whole race of pixies like Bezel is just too much.”

“On that, at least,” he said with an almost elegant bow, “we agree.”

Moving around the room, he pushed his furniture out of the way until the center of the room was bare but for a rug the color of spring grass. “Now we’ll train.”

Maggie grinned as he came toward her. Lifting both hands, she said, “Then show me what you got, old man.”

Chapter Ten

H
e charged her, coming in low and fast. Caught in his eyes, Maggie waited until he was almost atop her before she shifted her balance, sliding out of his reach and moving to stand behind him.

“Very nice,” he said with a brief nod. “But I could have stopped you if I’d wished.”

“Yeah.” Maggie grinned and kept moving, sidestepping, watching him. “That’s what they all say.”

His lips quirked slightly. “You think you can outdo a Fae warrior?”

“Took you out with a milk jug, if I remember it right.”

He winced. “That was different.”

Probably not a good idea to taunt a warrior. But come on. He was just so tauntable. So damn sure of himself in everything. Though, she had to admit, with reason.

He was circling her now like a tiger watching its prey. His pale green eyes were fixed on her as if measuring, judging what move she might make next.

Her insides fisted as Maggie felt the power of his stare slicing through her. His features were flat, expressionless. Impossible to read, and Maggie suddenly realized what a formidable enemy Culhane would make.

Facing him on a battlefield would have been seriously intimidating. Hell, facing him here in a tree, knowing he was on her side, was pretty damn fearsome.

“You’re thinking.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she quipped, still moving, keeping her position directly opposite him.

“But you’re
not
thinking about battle tactics.”

“Hello, have you met me? Glass painter. Not exactly a soldier.”

“You have to be.”

“Oh.” She stopped and dropped her fists to her hips. “Okay. Why didn’t you say so? I’ll just push my mental ‘soldier’ button and be right with you.”

He rushed her in a movement so fast it blurred the air around him. Maggie didn’t even think. She reacted instinctively. When Culhane got close enough she reached out, grabbed two fistsfuls of his shirt and let herself drop. She rolled, using her feet against his midriff to toss him over her shoulder and slam him into the wall behind her.

“Wow!” Maggie stood up quickly, looked down at him and grinned like a loon. “Did you
see
that? Did you see what I did there?”

“Yes,” he assured her, jumping to his feet. “I saw.” He stretched his neck. “And felt.”

“You’re way bigger than me, Culhane. How did I throw you that hard?”

Irritation flashed briefly in his eyes and warred with admiration. “As I said, your power grows.”

“Yeah, but . . .
damn
.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “You hold the power of five slain Fae. As that dust overtakes you, your strength will be much greater than that of the average Fae.”

“Stronger than you, too?”

His mouth flattened. “Perhaps.”

“Hmm. Not happy about that, are we?”

“Of course I am happy.”

“He said with a snarl.”

Culhane straightened up to his full, very impressive height and looked down at her. “You did what I’d hoped you would do. The fact that you were able to throw me is a good sign. You’re not only coming into your strength, but you’re becoming more comfortable with it.”