Warrior of the Isles (20 page)
Read Warrior of the Isles Online
Authors: Debbie Mazzuca
Aye, so how did he reconcile this woman with the one he condemned? Was it possible she told the truth? Did she truly have no idea as to Lan's whereabouts? A part of him hoped that was the case, while the other part prayed it wasn't. If she had played no part in his brother's disappearance, how in the bloody hell would he find him?
“You promised, Auntie Syrena, now where's our present?” Jamie demanded.
Aidan sent his eyes to the clear blue sky.
Auntie.
An auntie who appeared somewhat flustered if the faint flush coloring her cheeks was anything to go by.
Auntie.
An auntie who appeared somewhat flustered if the faint flush coloring her cheeks was anything to go by.
“Um-hmm . . . well . . . give me a moment. You're supposed to have your eyes closed, Jamie. No peeking,” she admonished.
The bairns squeezed their eyes shut. Her hands fluttered behind her back. Aidan frowned, wondering what she hoped to find since there was nothing behind her. Her fingers wiggled on top of the grass. Eyes closed, she moved her pink lips silently. Aidan stiffened.
Magick.
Bloody hell, she meant to use her magick. He stepped from the shadows to stop her, but then remembered her confession of the day before and couldn't bring himself to berate her.
Hearing how she'd suffered at the hands of the Fae when she was no older than the bairns had left him shaken. It had taken everything he had not to take her in his arms and comfort her. But she'd related the tale without tears or recriminations. And he'd stood there, undeniably proud of her strength, of her ability to get past the cruelty without visible scars.
“Can we open them now?” Alex asked.
“Not yet.” Her face a study in concentration, she wiggled her fingers again. Aidan's eyes widened. What looked to be a gooey, white substance dripped from her hands. A smile lit her face then she glanced over her shoulder and groaned. With a frustrated shake of her long tousled curls, she wiped the sticky mess onto the grass and prepared to try again.
Aidan's shoulders shook with silent laughter. The emotion surprised him. He hadn't felt like laughing in a long while. What was it about her that she could make him feel that way? It had been the same from the first moment he'd met her. She'd filled him with a warmth, a lightness that stole his breath away. More likely his sanity, he thought.
“Is something wrong, Auntie Syrena?” Jamie asked, cracking one eye open.
“Ah . . . no, I'm having a hard time remembering where I put your present is all. Close your eyes, Jamie.”
A movement a few feet behind Syrena drew Aidan's attention. Black nose pushed to the ground, a collie pup snuffled its way toward her. Concentrating on her magick, she wasn't aware of its presence until a pink tongue darted out to lick her fingers. Syrena shrieked and scrambled to her feet. The pup yelped and the bairns squealed with delight.
“Oh, Auntie, 'tis the bestest present ever,” Alex cried as he crouched beside the pup, who licked the sticky residue from the grass.
“We always wanted a puppy, Auntie, but Mama and Da would never let us have one. But they canna say nay now.” Jamie whooped and flung his arms around her legs. Alex, not to be outdone, did the same. Their excitement contagious, the puppy yapped, stretching up on its hind legs to paw at Syrena's dusty rose skirts.
She went to pat the tops of their heads, then remembering the gooey substance, she let her hands drop to her sides. Aidan chuckled, looking forward to seeing the look on his cousin's face when the bairns presented him with Syrena's gift. There was not much Rory didn't like, but dogs topped the list.
As Syrena watched the bairns, a wide smile spread over her face. Aidan didn't think she'd ever looked more beautiful.
He stepped away from the wall, and their heads swiveled in his direction. Jamie, who'd picked up the shaggy ball of tawny fur, held it tight to his chest. Casting a mutinous scowl in Aidan's direction, he said, “Ye canna take him. He's our present from Auntie Syrena.”
Noting the look of defiance in her golden gaze and the stubborn jut of her chin, Aidan held out his hands. “I wasna goin' to take him from ye, Jamie. After all, 'tis a present from both yer aunt and I.” Aye, he thought 'twas a grand idea. If the bairns thought the present was from the both of them, they'd quit beating on him.
She shot a look of disbelief in his direction.
Jamie looked up at her. “Is that true, Auntie?” he asked doubtfully.
“Wellâ”
Aidan grinned. “Of course 'tis. When a man and woman are betrothed, the gift comes from the two of them.”
“Oh . . . thanks,” Jamie murmured with obvious reluctance.
Alex, the politer of the two, smiled shyly. “Aye, thank you, Uncle Aidan.”
“Mrs. Mac is lookin' fer the two of ye.” The bairns groaned. “Off ye go now,” Aidan said. After giving one last hug to Syrena, the bairns tromped off in the direction of the keep, fighting over which one should hold their pet.
Aidan watched as she wiped her hands on the grass then leaned over to retrieve her slippers. An image of her barefoot, her long hair streaming down her back as she danced provocatively in the moonlight, came upon him without warning. She met his gaze. The heat of the memory must have been written upon his face, he thought, when her topaz eyes widened. The pulse at the base of her slender neck fluttered.
Aidan cleared his throat. “Ye still prefer yer bare feet to yer shoes, do ye?” He moved closer, inhaling her sweet feminine scent.
She glanced helplessly at the delicate slippers in her hand as though, like him, the memory of the passionate interlude they'd shared that moonlit night a year ago ensnared her.
“I . . . I have to go,” she stammered, hopping unsteadily on one foot as she tried to put on her shoe.
“Here, let me help ye.” He held out his hand. Her cheeks flushed. Reluctantly she handed him her slipper. He lowered himself to one knee. Taking her foot in his hand, he raised his gaze to hers. “We have to talk, Syrena.”
Her fingers bit into his shoulders. “You can't blame me for this, Aidan. Aileanna told her father we were betrothed because she couldn't come up with any other reason for my presence.”
“I ken that. 'Twas no' what I wanted to speak to ye about.”
Her brow furrowed then she grimaced. “You saw me use my magick.” She released a defeated sigh. “I didn't mean to, honestly, but Alex and Jamie were so sad about losing their bows and arrows I wanted to cheer them up. I don't even know what manner of animal it is that I conjured. It isn't dangerous, is it?”
Unable to help himself, Aidan laughed at the fervent concern in her eyes. “Nay, 'tis a dog. They use them to herd sheep. And, Syrena, yer magick wasna responsible fer his appearance.”
Her smooth brow furrowed. “No?”
“Nay. As fer it bein' dangerous, the only one who would believe so is Rory. He canna abide dogs, big or small. He's been afraid of them since he was a lad.”
She glanced in the direction of the keep. “I suppose I'd best go and apologize then.”
Rising to his feet, he took hold of her arm. “No' yet. We have to talk, about Lan.”
She lowered her eyes, long lashes caressing the soft curve of her cheek. Bloody hell, she was hiding something. Once again he'd allowed himself to be taken in by her bonny looks and her gentle ways with the bairns. The memory of how much he'd wanted her, and if he was honest, how much he still did.
“Tell me what ye ken, Syrena,” he demanded.
“I don't know anything and you're hurting me,” she accused him. With surprising strength, she peeled his fingers from her arm.
“Ye're lyin',” he gritted from between clenched teeth.
She placed a palm on his chest and attempted to push him out of her way. “No, I'm not. I didn't take Lan. I wouldn't lie about that. I'm as afraid for him as you are.”
“Can ye promise me that the Fae are no' involved?” He found himself wanting to believe her.
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I don't think they are, but I can't be certain. All I know is something strange is happening in London. Over the last few months, Fae men have gone missing, five to be exact.”
“Why did ye no' tell me this before?”
“Because I'm almost certain it doesn't involve Lan. They're pure-blood, Aidan. Lan is only half. And like you, he hates the Fae. I can't see him seeking them out, can you?”
What she said made sense, but it was difficult for him to let go of his suspicions. If he did, it meant he'd wasted precious time in his search for his brother.
“I doona ken. No one has learned what happened to them?”
“No, but . . . but there have been rumors of dark magick.”
“Why doesna' that surprise me with the Fae involved?”
“Are you suggesting I'm evil? You'd best think long and hard on that, Aidan MacLeod, it's not me Jamie and Alex refer to as a monster!” She made a frustrated sound. “I won't put up with your suspicions or snide remarks any longer. I'm leaving for London tomorrow, with or without youâpreferably without!”
Chapter 17
Syrena's slippers tapped an angry beat across the courtyard. The man was infuriating! His inability to get past his distrust of the Fae put Lachlan at risk. How would they ever find their brother if they could not work together? She'd threatened to go to London on her own, but it was an idle threat. She didn't even know where the city was let alone how to get there.
But the thought of spending any more time in his company left her uneasy. Aidan MacLeod still held a piece of her heart. If she hadn't realized it before, she did now. The warm amusement that danced in his eyes, the deepening of the crescent moon in his cheek, and the flash of his strong white teeth when he smiled shook her resolve to keep him at arm's length. It wasn't fair he could still make her feel the way he did. Turn her emotions inside out and, with a simple touch, bring back the memory of the heated moments they'd once shared.
“Syrena!” He called from behind her, his deep voice tinged with frustration.
Good!
She hoped he was as frustrated as she was.
She hoped he was as frustrated as she was.
“Bloody hell, I was no' finished talkin' with ye. Get yer bonny arse back here.”
She heard a snicker of laughter, and out of the corner of her eye spotted several of Dunvegan's men-at-arms sharing a laugh at her expense. She growled low in her throat. Whirling on her heel, she strode toward Aidan. Hands on her hips, she glared into his annoyingly handsome face and demanded, “What did you just say?”
He splayed his hands. “I'm sorry, it slipped out.” The twitch of his lips had her ready to call him on his lie, but before she could, he said, “Syrena, we have much to discuss that I doona wish the others to overhear. With the keep filled to overflowin', we'll no' get a moment's peace.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.”
She hesitated, but knew he was right. They had to make plans to get her brother back, or at the very least she needed information as to where to begin her search. She ignored the hand he held out to her. She couldn't let him touch her, couldn't let him see how he affected her. “Do you promise not to make any more disparaging remarks against the Fae?”
“We'll see.” When she crossed her arms over her chest, he blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine, I'll no' say another wordâfor now.” He tugged on her hand to drag her across the courtyard.
“Aidan, slow down, your legs are longer than mine.”
“Aye, most are.” He chuckled, but slowed his pace.
She recognized the path he led her to as one they'd used the day before. “Are we going to the training field?”
“Nay, 'tis no' much further. Besides, ye doona have yer sword. Where is it?”
“Hidden.” Afraid the twins' curiosity would cause them to seek out Nuie and they'd come to harm, she'd tucked her sword away. Using a chair to reach the top shelf of the wardrobe, she'd buried him beneath a pile of linens. She imagined Nuie was none too happy with her at the moment.
When she was home in the Enchanted Isles, her sword was either in her hand or strapped to her back. But here at Dunvegan, she didn't feel the need to be armed at all times. In an odd way, it was freeing not to have to live up to anyone's expectations, to be the warrior the Fae had come to admire, to depend upon.
Fallyn and her sisters saw the woman beneath the façade, but no one else did. They didn't want to see that the warrior they respected was still Syrena, the half-pint princess who couldn't do magick, but here in the Mortal realm it didn't matter.
“Afraid I'll steal yer wee sword from ye?” he asked as they crossed the clearing to the shelter of the pines. Dried twigs and pine needles crunched beneath their feet.
She inhaled deeply of the heady, fragrant scent before answering, “No, Nuie, wouldn't respond in the way you'd wish him to. You'd soon return him to me.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Only ye would think to name a sword.”
Considering his reaction, she wasn't about to tell him Nuie was not just a sword, but her friend.
Aidan urged her to take a seat on a large slab of rock smoothed over time to provide a comfortable, albeit cold, surface. He sat beside her, scrubbing his hands over his face before he turned to study her. “First off, ye're no' goin' to London on yer own, 'tis no' safe. And though 'tis no' somethin' I want to admit, ye may be of some help f indin' Lan.”
She arched a brow, surprised by his admission. “You may not have noticed, Aidan, but I am not the same woman you knew a year ago. I can take care of myself. But as far as helping you find Lachlan, other than another set of eyes and a sword, I'm not certain what I can do. I'm not familiar with the city.”
“I ken ye've changed, but I'm beginnin' to think no' as much as I first thought.” He didn't appear happy with whatever it was he'd imagined he'd seen. “Ye may no' be familiar with London, but ye do ken Lan. Mayhap ye can reach him with yer mind. And if the Fae are involved, I'll need yer help.”
“I didn't realize you knew, about Lan, about me talking to him in my mind.”
“Aye, he told me that day in the woods.”
Of course, her brother would've confessed all that day. “I've been unable to reach him, Aidan. I've tried every day, several times a day, and there's been nothing.”
Color drained from his sun-bronzed skin. “Ye doona think . . ”
Understanding his fears, having battled them herself, she placed her hand over his. They had that in common, their love for their brother, because despite his faults, she knew Aidan loved Lan. “No, I think I'd know if he, if he was gone.”
“Aye, I feel the same.” His thumb stroked her palm while he spoke.
She tried to ignore the ribbons of pleasure curling in her belly at his soothing caress. Fighting the sensation, she cleared her throat. “Why did he go to London?”
His expression shuttered. “He received a missive.”
“From a woman?”
He frowned, searching her face. “Why would ye ask that?”
“Oh, I don't know, maybe because anytime I've seen the two of you, you're pleasuring a woman. It's as though that's all you have to do with your time,” she snapped, then realizing what she'd said, stifled a groan.
His lips tightened, eyes the color of a stormy sky narrowed. “What do ye mean whenever ye have seen us? And how in the bloody hell would ye be around when we are . . ”
Her cheeks heated. “No, that's not what I meant to say. It's just that I know you're no different from Fae men . . . and . . . that's it, that's what I meant to say.”
“Doona lie to me, Syrena.”
Maybe she should tell him the truth, see if he could explain why she'd meant so little to him that he bedded any woman who came his way. But that was foolish. She hadn't meant anything to him. It had only been wishful thinking on her part. What he did and whom he did it with were none of her business, but Lan was. And if a woman drew him to London, she had a right to know. “My stepmother, Morgana, anytime she thought I might be tempted to return to the Mortal realm, she would show me . . . well . . . you know. She would show me you and Lan . . ” She lifted her hands, unable to continue.
Cupping her chin between his strong fingers, he forced her gaze to his. “Were ye tempted, Syrena? Were ye tempted to come back to us?”
Seduced by his mesmerizing gaze, the feelings she'd once had for him rose to the surface, no longer content to remain a distant memory. The emotions overwhelmed her, and she told him the truth. “Yes, I . . . yes.”
His gaze fastened on her mouth. She couldn't see his eyes, couldn't see how her confession made him feel. The pad of his thumb skimmed her bottom lip, and the frisson of sensation made her shiver. He dragged his heavy-lidded gaze from her mouth to her eyes, and then she saw it, desire, searing in its intensity.
“Tell me. Tell me why?”
Because I loved you. Because I loved my brother and couldn't bear to leave either of you behind.
How could she tell him? She couldn't risk his rejection, not again. His lips feathered across her heated cheek to her ear. “Tell me.”
How could she tell him? She couldn't risk his rejection, not again. His lips feathered across her heated cheek to her ear. “Tell me.”
He was too close. She was helpless against the memories, they made her want to tell him the truth, to lose herself in his familiar embrace, to feel protected and cherished once more. She placed her palms against the banded muscles in his chest and pushed, but no matter how much stronger she'd become, she couldn't move him.
“No, please, Aidan.” A thread of panic was woven into her voice.
He framed her face with his big hands, his thumbs gently stroking along her cheekbones to her mouth. “Shall I tell ye why ye were tempted to come back, angel?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her fingers wrapped around his thick wrists. “Please.”
Against the corner of her mouth he smiled. “Because ye could no' forget this.” He captured her lips as easily as he had captured her heart a year ago, shattering her resolve, the fragile wall she'd built around her emotions. Her body responded as though they'd never been apart. As though it had waited for this moment, urging her to take whatever he offered, enjoy the bittersweet feel of his hands on her, his mouth claiming hers.
His groan reverberated against her lips, and he slid a hand under her legs and one behind her back to sweep her onto his lap. Beneath the folds of her gown, she felt the powerful muscles in his thighs, the hard bulge of his erection, and lost herself in his kiss. Her tongue tangled with his, and she barely noticed that he'd untied the laces of her gown until the cool autumn air nipped at her breasts. Her nipples pearled into taut buds. Feeling vulnerable, fully exposed, she moaned, “Aidan.”
He lifted his head as though waiting for her to object, but the time for protest had passed the moment he'd touched his lips to hers. He smoothed the hair from her face, stroking her arm, the curve of her breast, as though he sensed she was frightened by the strength of her desire and sought to soothe her.
In one lithe movement, he rose easily from the stone with her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. She experienced a tiny thrill at his show of strength, his potent masculinity. He gently laid her on the slab of rock. Cold seeped into her back, and she gasped.
Aidan followed her down, kneeling beside her. “Doona worry, angel, ye won't be cold fer long.” He gazed upon Syrena, entranced. With the dappled sunlight reaching through the boughs to gild her creamy skin, to caress her full perfect breasts, she was a veritable feast laid out for his pleasure.
Her long, golden hair spread out beneath her to tumble over the side of the rock, strands curling around her dusky rose nipples, straining buds ripe for his attention. Unable to resist the lush bounty spread out before him, he cupped her breasts, and laved first one nipple and then the other, suckling until she writhed beneath him. His name upon her parted lips glistening from his wet, open-mouthed kiss gave him a possessive thrill. Her movements grew frantic, her fingers clutching his tunic, tugging it from his trews. He stroked her silken tresses, her breasts, then laid his palm on her belly, soothing her, quieting her.
“Easy, love,” he murmured. The desire to savor her, taste every inch of her perfect wee body, overwhelmed him. No other woman compared to her. He realized, no matter that she was Fae, he wanted her beyond reason, as much as she seemed to want him. Whatever defenses he'd built against her had crumbled at her admission she'd wished to return to them. He wanted to claim her as his, her body as his. They may not be able to have anything else, but this they could have.
She stroked the flat plane of his belly, the muscles rippling at the exquisite torture of her touch. He lifted his mouth from her breast and dragged his shirt over his head. His laughter rumbled deep in his chest at her frustrated moan. “Patience, my greedy little angel,” he said as he formed a pillow with his tunic and eased it beneath her head.
Her amber gaze devoured him, and his cock swelled at the admiration he saw there. He took her hand and placed it over his straining erection. Her startled gasp made him smile, but his amusement faded when she fondled him through his doeskin trews.
He gently manacled her wrist. “Careful, angel.” He captured her other hand and brought them together over her head, restraining her with one of his own. Fear flashed in her luminous gaze, and she twisted in his grasp. He groaned, the jiggling of her breasts firing his desire to painful heights. “Nay, Syrena, I would never hurt ye. Ye ken that, doona ye?”
Sweet Christ, say ye do.
He slid his lips over hers, slowly, back and forth, exultant when she responded tentatively at first then with an impassioned insistence that had his senses reeling.
Sweet Christ, say ye do.
He slid his lips over hers, slowly, back and forth, exultant when she responded tentatively at first then with an impassioned insistence that had his senses reeling.
He leaned over her, and the friction of her breasts rubbing against his chest destroyed his resolve to take it slow. He tugged her gown to her waist, his mouth following the path of his hand, licking, suckling every inch of delectable flesh he exposed. She arched her hips, and greedily he shoved the gown and her silken drawers to her thighs, past her knees, to the delicate curve of her ankles. He stroked the downy softness of her curls at the juncture between her shapely legs, and she writhed, releasing a needy whimper. Hungry to touch her, all of her, he let go of her wrists to coax her legs apart. He stroked her there, widening her with his thick fingers. Then he flicked his tongue over the throbbing nub.
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