She lifted her shoulder, eyes downcast. “Maybe.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair and over her scalp, but found no bumps, no sign of injury. Growing suspicious, he asked, “Ye’re no’ a Lowlander, are ye?”

  The Lowlanders were his sworn enemies, ravaging scavengers who bled his people dry at King James VI’s behest. If she was one of them, he’d have no choice but to hold her for ransom. His coffers were nearly empty, and coin for her safe return would go a long way in replenishing them. But he didn’t want to think she had anything in common with that rabble, or that she shared the Lowlander’s contempt for him and his people.

  “What is a Lowlander?”

  “A bunch of lowlife from the borders.”

  “No, I’m certainly not one of them.” She gave a firm shake of her head.

  His lips twitched. “Well, I canna think ye’re from around these parts. Like I said, I would remember ye, and the way ye speak ’tis str . . . unusual.”

  “Is it? And here I thought your speech str . . . unusual.” Her lips curved in a smile that took his breath away, and right then and there Aidan decided he didn’t care who she was, she was his.

  Now where the bloody hell had that come from?

  The last thing Aidan wanted was to saddle himself with a woman, especially a woman of means who would expect marriage. His circumstances were too badly compromised to consider making such an offer. What with the constant fighting and raiding of the Lowlanders over the last few years, his coin was depleted, and the keep barely fit to live in.

  But that was beside the point. He’d witnessed how destructive marriage could be. Women were not to be trusted, which was why he never stayed long enough with one to get attached.

  After what his mother’s betrayal had done to his father, you’d think he would have learned his lesson, but nay, he had to find out the hard way. And find out he did. Lady Davina Scott, the one woman he thought he could trust, a woman he gave his heart to, had betrayed him with another.

  Syrena rubbed her arms, and shivered. He gathered her to his chest and this time she didn’t protest. Instead, she turned toward him and snuggled close, folding her hands beneath her cheek. With a soft contented sigh, her eyes fluttered closed. The quiet sound caused Aidan to harden in his trews, and his mind turned to another way he’d like to keep her warm. The soft cries she’d make when he had her naked beneath him, when he was deep inside her.

  Enough. This is madness.

  He’d been too long without a woman was all. And he planned to rectify the matter as soon as he delivered the lass safely to her kin. Someone would claim her. As beautiful as she was, who would not? He ignored the tightening in his chest at the thought she belonged to another. He dug his heels into Fin’s flanks and urged the stallion to quicken his pace, determined to seek out the Widow Blackmore as soon as he saw the lass settled.

  Fin trotted into the courtyard and Aidan viewed the overgrown grounds and ramshackle dwellings with a familiar surge of frustration. Their troubles with the Lowlanders were lessening, and he would soon have the time to begin the repairs required to set Lewes to rights. Aye, he knew he needed coin to do so, but somehow he’d find a way to deal with that as well. Turning his attention to the sleeping lass in his arms, he tried to wake her. The gentle shake to her shoulder failed to rouse her, and he shook her a little harder.

  “Stop it, Evangeline,” she grumbled, slapping his hand away. She nudged her head against his chest as though she meant to burrow beneath his tunic. Her breath warmed his skin, fanning the flame of awareness that already burned deep in his belly.

  “So, ye tamed the wee lass have ye, Aidan? I thought she might take longer than she did,” Donald remarked as he and Gavin sauntered toward him.

  Aidan hesitated before he said, “I canna wake her, come give me a hand.” He gestured Donald over, better him than the lecherous Gavin.

  “Ah, so that’s how ye did it. Knocked her out, did ye?” Gavin nodded his head as though he thought it a grand idea.

  “Are ye daft, mon? She’s asleep is all. Have a care with her, Donald,” he admonished the gangly sandy-haired man. Barely had he placed her in his friend’s arms before he had her back in his. He ignored the knowing look the two men exchanged. “Did ye put her deer in the stables?”

  “Aye, but old Tom is none too happy about it.”

  Aidan adjusted her weight in his arms. “I’ll see the lass settled then have a word with him.” He shouldered his way through the doors of the keep with Donald and Gavin at his heels.

  “Ye’re certain there’s nothing wrong with her, Aidan? I doona ken when I’ve seen a lass sleep like that.”

  Gavin gave Donald a hardy slap to his shoulder. “Then ye’re doin’ it all wrong, mon.”

  Donald rolled his eyes. “Nay, I’m more careful than ye is all. I doona ram their heads into the wall.”

  “We did no more than ride home,” Aidan protested. He wouldn’t allow them to think he’d compromised Syrena’s innocence. “I think she may have hit her head.”

  Donald’s brows bunched together. “’Twould explain her wantin’ to keep the beastie fer a pet.”

  “Mayhap,” Aidan said, looking down at the angel in his arms. She was innocent and vulnerable, he had no business thinking the thoughts he’d been thinking. He took a quick look into the grand hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Beth or one of the other maidservants. But there was no one about. The hall was deserted.

  “Where’s Lachlan?”

  “A bunch of them left to raid the Lowlanders.” Gavin eyed him. “Was it no’ on yer orders?”

  Aidan clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ached. His brother grew more rebellious by the day. He’d learned to accept as the day of Lachlan’s birth drew near he became reckless. But his behavior of late grew dangerous, and Aidan knew he had to put a stop to it before someone got hurt. “Ye ken full well I didna. Lachlan goes too far this time,” he grated out.

  The lass stirred, drawing his attention. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, giving him a sleepy smile. “Is Lachlan here?”

  Aidan stiffened. “How do ye ken my brother?” He didn’t keep the censure from his voice, not liking the tender look in her eyes when she asked after Lan.

  Syrena’s eyes widened. Oh for the love of Fae. If his steely gaze was anything to go by, she’d given herself away. Taking refuge in the excuse he’d provided earlier, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Do you have to be so loud? My head aches.”

  He narrowed his gaze, setting her on her feet. “I asked ye a question, Syrena. How do ye ken, my brother?” he repeated. A muscle twitched in the hard edge of his jaw.

  “Aye, we’d be interestin’ in learnin’ that as well.” The tall sandy-haired man and his redheaded companion from the woods eyed her suspiciously.

  She paid them no mind, knowing it was Aidan who held her fate in his hands. “I knew someone named Lachlan, when I was younger.” She pretended nonchalance. Evangeline had warned her not to give away her identity, and Syrena planned on heeding her advice. She peeked at him through her lashes. “I would like to see my doe.”

  He took hold of her arm. With a jerk of his chin, he sent the two men on their way, ignoring their grumbled protest. “Yer pet is bein’ seen to. Now answer me.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “I did. Like I said, Lachlan was someone I met a long time ago.” If only she hadn’t woken to the mention of her brother’s name. Despite her apprehension, she felt a spurt of relief that she’d followed her instincts and let Aidan take her to his home. She just wouldn’t think about the disturbing reaction she had to the man—a reaction that had only intensified when he held her in his protective embrace.

  She averted her gaze from his, taking in the stone wall leading down a dark, dank corridor that listed dangerously inward. Her eyes widened. Several doors were hanging off their hinges and deep gouges marred the slate floor beneath her feet. The Fae’s stables were more habitable than this place. “Is . . . is this your home?” She hoped he didn’t take note of the horrified shudder that accompanied her question.

  “Aye.” He arched a brow. “Is it no’ to yer likin’?”

  “It . . . it’s very . . . big.” She curled her toes when a draught of damp air swirled about her feet. And ugly. And cold. The only time she’d been warm in this realm was in his arms. Unbidden, her eyes went to his broad chest and muscular arms. She barely caught the wistful sigh before it escaped from her lips.

  His sensuous mouth quirked at the corner. “I should be offended.”

  Her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “No apologies necessary, lass. I’m no’ blind to how the keep appears to others. ’Twill take time, but I’ll have it back to the way it once was.” He looked about him before he returned his gaze to hers. “This Lachlan ye referred to, where was it exactly that ye met?”

  In my mind. She swallowed a giggle as she pictured what his reaction would be if she said the words out loud.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression grim. “It seems you have fond memories of the mon.”

  “I do, but he was only a boy when I knew him.” A memory of Lachlan sounding scared and alone echoed in her mind, and she wondered if Aidan had been the cause of her brother’s anguish. Her temper flared on Lachlan’s behalf. She matched Aidan’s stance and pinned him with an indignant look of her own. “You were angry at your brother. Why?”

  He frowned. “’Tis no concern of yers.”

  She opened her mouth to protest then closed it. She couldn’t tell him the truth, and without it, to argue would be pointless.

  “I have much to do, lass, before the gatherin’. So it would be best if ye tell me who yer kin are and I can have ye back to them before nightfall.”

  “You’re having a gathering—here.” She couldn’t help it, her nose wrinkled.

  “Aye, in a few days’ time, but ye needn’t worry. Most of my guests’ expectations are lower than what yers appear to be.”

  Once more heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” She looked toward the grand hall. “I could help you tidy things up while we wait for . . . I mean, until I recall my kin.”

  He angled his head to study her. “Ye still canna recall them?”

  “No.” She shook her head firmly. “I can’t.” Syrena stepped into the hall. “Oh my,” she murmured. The sight that greeted her horrified her Fae sensibilities. There were buckets scattered everywhere. The tables and chairs that remained intact were coated with grime. A far wall with a large hole in it looked as though it might crumble into a heap right before her eyes.

  “Lord MacLeod, do you not have servants to help you with . . .” Unable to think of a word that would not offend him, she waved her hand.

  He grinned. “Are ye takin’ back yer offer to help, Syrena?”

  “No, of course not, but I . . . I think perhaps you should hold your gathering out of doors.” Her poor brother, to see the squalor in which he lived pained Syrena. The sooner she got him away from this place, the better.

  Aidan rubbed his hand along his jaw. “’Tis no’ a bad idea, lass, if the weather holds.”

  She smiled. No one had ever taken one of her suggestions seriously before, and the thought Aidan did ignited a happy glow inside her.

  He took her hands in his and turned her palms up. She watched, mesmerized, as his thumbs traced her sensitive skin. His hands dwarfed hers, and his touch caused a flutter low in her belly. She drew her gaze to his and their eyes held.

  “I doona think these hands have ever seen a day’s work, have they, Syrena?” Her name rolled off his tongue as though he caressed her, a heated caress that warmed her in places never before touched.

  Forgetting everything but how she’d felt in his arms, she stepped closer. He watched her as he stroked her palms, and she trembled with the intensity of his gaze.

  “Aidan, old Tom is beside him . . . oh.” The man named Gavin grinned. “Sorry, I didna mean to interrupt ye.”

  Aidan released her hands. “Ye didna. Now what was that ye were sayin’?”

  “’Tis Tom, he says . . .” He waggled his brows.

  “Mayhap ’twould be best if I speak with him now. Syrena, make yerself comfortable while I—”

  “I’m coming with you,” she said, certain there was a problem with her deer.

  “Nay, let me calm old Tom before ye have a visit with yer pet.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “You promise no one will harm her?”

  “I promise, now be a good lass and let me be on my way.” Aidan looked over his shoulder when a tall, auburn-haired woman pushed past Gavin. “Beth, I was wonderin’ where ye got to. Lady Syrena has offered to give ye a hand with the cleanin’. Mayhap ye can fetch her a bucket and some rags.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped. “Ye canna be serious, my—”

  “Ah, but I am.” He grinned and winked at Syrena before he followed Gavin from the castle.

  The woman rolled her eyes. “I must apologize fer our laird. He likes to tease.”

  “I did offer,” she assured the woman with a smile. “And by the looks of things, you could use my help.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

  Beth waved off her apology. “No offense taken, my lady. There’ve been a fair number of lasses hurt of late on account of the keep’s disrepair. And ’tis a lot fer only four bodies to manage.”

  Syrena, wanting to let the woman know she was serious, rolled up her sleeves in the manner in which the servants at the palace did.

  With a shake of her head, Beth said, “I’ll be back with yer rags.” Chuckling, she left the hall.

  Over the last hour, Syrena had developed an appreciation for all the servants accomplished in the Enchanted Isles. Although she was certain they had never dealt with filth such as this. She wrinkled her nose as she wrung out the blackened cloth, her arms aching from the constant scrubbing. But when she looked at the long wooden table she’d cleaned, she stood taller. Pleased with her accomplishment.

  A low drawn-out hiss came from behind her and she turned. Her eyes widened. What in the name of Fae is that?

  An animal, as black as night, slunk across the room toward her, its yellow eyes gleaming. It hissed again and bared its pointed teeth. She thought back to the book she’d read the night before, sorting through her memory. A cat, it was a cat. A tingle of nerves prickled beneath her skin. There was something important she was forgetting, something about cats and the Fae. “Go away,” she pleaded as it prowled toward her.

  She whimpered, sensing the evil intent that pulsed from the creature. Her hip bumped the table and she squealed. The animal arched its back, hair standing on end. Syrena whirled around and clambered on top of the table, tugging her gown from where it caught on the splintered wood.

  The creature lunged, its teeth bared, long extended claws glittered white against its shiny black coat and latched onto her gown. She screamed, shaking her skirt, trying to dislodge the animal. And in the midst of her terror, she remembered—cats suck the very essence from a faery. Her panicked cries echoed in the grand hall as the animal slithered its way up her body.

  Chapter 4

  Syrena’s high-pitched shriek greeted Aidan as soon as he entered the keep. He raced into the hall, laughter rumbling in his chest at the sight of her standing in the middle of the table with a wee cat attached to her gown. His laughter faded when he noted the look of terror in her eyes, and the pallor of her skin. The woman was beside herself with fear.

  He strode to the table. “He’ll no’ harm ye, Syrena,” he tried to reassure her while he pried the animal from her gown. He cursed the wee beastie when it got in one last swipe and raked the delicate skin of her chest with its claws, leaving a fiery red welt in its wake.

  “Beth,” he bellowed.

  “I’m here, my laird, no need to make me deef,” Beth remarked from behind him.

  He shoved the hissing animal into her arms. “Take the cat and lock it away. It appears to have gone mad.” As though to make a mockery of his statement, the wee beastie purred loudly as it left the hall in Beth’s arms.

  Aidan turned back to Syrena. Placing his hands on either side of her tiny waist, he lifted her easily from the table and into his arms. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she released a shuddered breath and hiccupped on a sob.

  “Shh, angel, ye’re all right,” he murmured into her hair, inhaling her now familiar sweet scent.

  “I . . . I know. It’s just a little . . . a little scratch.”

  Aidan bit back a smile at her attempt to hide how frightened she’d been, and lowered himself on a chair, settling her on his lap.

  He placed his finger beneath her chin and tilted her face upward. “The cat willna bother ye again,” he promised, entranced by the shimmering depths of her topaz eyes.

  She drew her arms from his neck and plucked at the laces of his tunic. “Thank you for saving me,” she murmured.

  He chuckled. “’Twas only a wee cat. Yer life was never in danger, Syrena.”

  She lifted her wide-eyed gaze to his. “But it was. You don’t understand. Cats will suck the essence from a . . .” She caught her full bottom lip between her teeth and dipped her head while absently stroking the flesh at the opening of his tunic.

  The action seemed to comfort her, but it was wreaking havoc on his self-control. Glad of the voluminous amount of fabric between them, he hoped it was enough that she wouldn’t feel him harden beneath her. He wrapped his fingers around hers, and brought them to his lips. “I ken the beastie appeared mad, but ye calmed Fin, and befriended a deer. I canna imagine why ye’re afraid of a wee cat.”

  “I told you . . .” She clamped her mouth closed. Bringing her hand to her chest, she touched the raised, reddened mark that marred her creamy white skin.

  His eyes were drawn to the dark valley between her breasts, and he cleared his throat, jerking his chin to the scratch. “Does it hurt?”

  Watching the tip of her finger trail the length of the welt, he had to tamp down the temptation to press his lips to her satiny smooth skin. To soothe her heated flesh.

 

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