Debbie Mazzuca Bundle, page 43
Lan and Iain guffawed.
Syrena arched a brow, and Aidan shrugged, sliding his finger into his mouth. “Ye’re right, ’tis verra good.” He could only think how much better it would be if he could lean over and lick it from her glistening lips.
Iain grinned then leaned back in his chair. “Well, lads, ’tis time I took my leave. My thanks fer the grand time. Syrena.” He took her hand in his. “A pleasure to meet you, and I shall tell my sister-by-marriage all about you. I’m certain she’ll be verra interested, won’t she, Aidan?” His amused expression turned serious. “I’ll make yer inquiries while I’m at court, cousin. Doona worry, Syrena. Sooner or later we’ll manage to find yer kin.”
Aidan didn’t miss the surreptitious glance the lass sent his brother. Nor the reassuring one Lan offered in return. “Is there somethin’ I should be made aware of, Syrena? Lachlan?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I . . . I’m . . . well . . .”
“What she means to say, Aidan, is every time she thinks on her kin, she gets an ache in her head and feels ill. I suggested fer the time being she doesna’ worry on it, and that she’s welcome to remain with us.”
“Is this true, Syrena?”
With her spoon, she moved the oats around in the bowl. “Uhmm, yes, if that’s all right with you. I promise not to be any trouble.”
Not bloody likely. Having her under his roof these past few days had already overtaxed his restraint. Although if he were honest, he’d admit he didn’t want her to leave, would have a difficult time letting her go. And if her kin finally came to claim her, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to. He’d claim her as his and marry the troublesome wench just so he could kiss her honeyed lips anytime he damned well pleased. Look upon her bonny face from sunrise to sunset. And bask in the laughter and warmth she’d brought to his home.
“Aidan?” His brother gave him an odd look, jerking his head in Syrena’s direction.
He shoved his hand through his hair. “Aye, doona fash yerself, Syrena, we’ll . . .”
A commotion at the other end of the hall drew his attention. Gavin, waving off the comments of the men who held their noses, strode toward them.
When he came to stand beside their table, Aidan gagged, and his eyes watered. “Bloody hell, mon, ye smell like ye rolled around in a pile of . . .” Catching himself, Aidan glanced at Syrena, who looked ready to retch, her sleeve pressed to her nose. “Go on, get yerself to the stable and have someone . . .”
Gavin glared at him, his eyes bloodshot. “’Tis where I have been—some fool thought it amusin’ to leave me there fer the night. Only they didna bother to check what they were layin’ me down in.” He turned to walk away, the remains of what he’d been sleeping on clearly evident on his back, saying, “And ye may wish to get yerself to the stables if yer of a mind to save Lady Syrena’s wee pet.”
Syrena gasped, but before he could stop her, she’d shot from her chair.
Aidan groaned. His head pounded as he ran after her with Lan and Iain close on his heels. She might be wee, but she was fast, and he had a devil of a time catching up to her. He finally managed to snag her arm several feet from the stables.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he held her to his chest. “Bloody hell, quit yer squirmin’.” He tried to ignore the curve of her rounded behind pressed against him, the slight waist he embraced, and the heavy weight of her breasts brushing his forearms.
“Enough.” He grimaced when her heel hit him in the shins. “I’ll no’ let ye go until ye settle down. Tom’s liable to hurt ye.”
She tilted her head, her amber eyes flashing. “You promise you won’t let him harm my deer?”
“Aye. Lan, hold on to . . .” Nay, no one would hold her but him. “Watch her.” He turned Syrena to face him. “And ye, doona move.”
He held his breath when Gavin came up alongside him.
His friend rolled his eyes. “Careful, he’s armed.”
With a muttered oath, Aidan shoved the doors open. Old Tom, his white hair standing on end, was backed against the wall of Fin’s stall, jabbing a pitchfork in the direction of the black stallion, who shielded Syrena’s wee pet.
“Drop it, Tom, and get yer arse over here.”
“Are ye mad? That beast attacked me.”
“The deer?”
The old man scowled at him. “Nay, Fin. He bit me.”
Aidan rubbed the stubble along his jaw. Fin had a temper, but it did not usually show itself unless he’d been provoked. “And just what were ye doin’ to make him react in such a manner?”
“Gettin’ that creature out of his stall is what I was doin’. I doona ken who . . . her, it must’ve been her,” he shouted, pointing a trembling finger at someone behind Aidan.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I told ye to keep Syrena outside, Lan.”
“He tried,” his cousin said dryly.
“And I ken she’s the one who knocked me on the heed, makin’ me miss the gatherin’. Took me out with a tankard of ale, wastin’ all my lovely brew,” he whined.
Aidan arched a brow in Syrena’s direction.
“I did no such thing,” she protested, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
His brother coughed to smother a laugh, and Aidan narrowed his gaze on the two of them. Lachlan was notorious for his antics, and God help Aidan if he now had a partner in crime. He shook his head, trying not to smile at how hard the two of them attempted not to laugh.
He moved toward Fin, patting his hindquarters. “Protectin’ the wee beastie, were ye? Ah, ye’re a good lad.” He took the rusted pitchfork from Tom and nudged the grumbling old man from the stall.
Aidan glanced at Lan and Syrena, who were giggling like a pair of fools—a pair of fools who looked as though they were kin. He rubbed his eyes. Nay, ’twas only on account of their similar coloring that made them appear so, he assured himself, a trick of the shaft of light penetrating the shadows.
“Take yer pet out of doors, Syrena. She looks well enough, and a walk will do her good.” The lass seemed happy to comply with his wishes. Making a wide circle of Tom, she came alongside Fin and gave him a quick cuddle. The big stallion nickered against her neck.
Aidan scrubbed his hand over his face. Aye, ’twas time for a ride, a good long one. “Lan, we’ll see Iain off at the docks and then we’ll take a ride down Harris way.”
He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to search for her kin. Mayhap if he was lucky, they would force his hand and he’d have no choice but to marry the wee beauty. Aye, she was making him daft, turning his long-standing objection to marriage on its head, working her way past his distrust with her sweet and gentle nature.
Syrena lifted a hand in farewell as Aidan, Iain, and her brother rode off. She wrinkled her nose when Gavin came to stand beside her.
“I doona smell that bad.”
“Yes . . . you do,” she muttered into her palm.
“Ah, well, I’ll take myself off then. Doona wander too far afield. We wouldna want the Lowlanders to get a hold of ye again. The laird would have my head.”
Their concern for her, especially Aidan’s, warmed Syrena with a sense of belonging. “I won’t go far, Gavin, maybe just beyond the stables.” She pointed out the path she intended to take.
Guttural curses and a resounding crash came from within the barn and he winced. “Aye, ’tis a good idea.” Turning on his heel, he strode away, leaving behind a trail of hay and whatever it was that made him smell so bad.
Her deer nudged the backs of her legs as though urging her on. Syrena chuckled—if the smell bothered an animal, it was indeed as putrid as she thought. She unfastened the pink ribbon from her hair and tied it around the deer’s neck, leaving a long enough piece for her to hold on to.
Watching the animal frolic among the white-tipped grass, Syrena realized she would soon have to set it free. Her heart pinched at the thought. It didn’t belong here, and even more painful to admit, neither did she. Even though she was beginning to feel like she did.
For the first time in her life she’d been able to be herself, and she hadn’t been castigated for it. No one laughed at her. She’d been accepted for who she was. No one cared that she was small, that her magickal abilities were lacking.
But you’re not Mortal, you’re Fae.
How long could she keep her secret from Aidan?
The fluffy white clouds scuttling across the sky darkened. An ominous rumble shattered the slumberous quiet as though the Isles were reacting to Syrena’s tumultuous emotions.
Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with a Fae man? Her life would be so much simpler. But no, as always, she had to be different. And it was not as if she’d fallen in love with Aidan on purpose. If anything, she’d tried not to.
While she fought her inner battles, the ribbon slipped through her fingers, jerking Syrena’s attention to her deer, who bounded toward a small copse of trees. She sprinted after her pet, skidding to a halt when in the center of the verdant shadows a cluster of colorful lights sparked and sputtered to life. From the smoky aftermath stepped a man. He filled the space with his omnipotent presence. Her legs trembled, and she wanted to run, but knew she wouldn’t get far, not if he wanted her.
He was Fae.
He flicked an errant spark from robes as golden as his hair, then raised a gaze as blue as the Isles skies to hers. His mouth curved in a predatory smile. “So good of you to come and meet me, princess. I would hate to spend any longer in this dung heap than is necessary.”
Before she could think of what to do, a brilliant burst of yellow exploded, and Evangeline appeared. Syrena’s trepidation eased somewhat at her handmaiden’s appearance.
“I’m sorry, my lady, I did not tell him you were here. Morgana did. I tried to stop him.” Fear interlaced with anger knitted her handmaiden’s expression.
Syrena sucked in a shocked gasp. Morgana knew. And if her stepmother knew she was in the Mortal realm, here at Lewes, she knew about Lachlan. The realization filled her with panic, but she fought against it. She had to, or she wouldn’t be able to deal with the intimidating Fae man standing before her.
He shot Evangeline an irritated look. “As if you could stop me. But even if you could, why would you? I come to claim what is rightfully mine.” Ignoring Evangeline, who’d moved to Syrena’s side, he raked Syrena with a proprietary look and held out his hand. “Come, our wedding takes place this day.”
Her heart leapt to her throat. “I don’t even know you.” There had to be some mistake. This couldn’t be happening, not now.
He quirked an arrogant brow. “You wound me, princess. I didn’t think I was so easily forgotten. But then again, when last we met, I had yet to assume the throne. I was Prince Magnus from the land of the Far North. Lucky for you I am now king, else you’d be betrothed to my father. And I can’t imagine you would have survived him.” In one long stride he closed the short distance between them and jerked Syrena from Evangeline’s hold.
“Let me go.” She slammed her palm into his cast-iron chest, kicking her feet as he held her above the forest floor.
He laughed at her. “I’ll enjoy taming you, little one.” Her foot made contact with the bulge between his legs. He grunted, and his amusement evaporated. His arm banded her chest in a vice-like grip, leaving her gasping for air.
“Stop, you’re hurting her. Put her down,” Evangeline demanded.
“You try my patience, wench.” Magnus raised his hand and a bolt of white light arched toward Evangeline. Palm up, she deflected it back at him. He cried out. Staggering, he fought to remain upright, and let go of Syrena in the effort.
A tingling, pulsating sensation surged through Syrena’s veins, and she dropped to her knees.
Evangeline, keeping an eye on Magnus, hurried to her side. “I’m sorry, your highness. I should have realized you’d feel the effects as well.”
Rising to her feet, she leaned against her handmaiden. “No, it’s all right, I’m fine. Thank you.”
The king rubbed his arm, narrowing his gaze on Evangeline. “Interfere again, and I take the matter before your Queen.”
“No . . . no, she seeks to protect me, that is all,” Syrena protested, knowing Morgana needed little excuse to punish her friend. And word of Evangeline’s magick, more magick than a servant should possess, would have dire consequences.
Magnus studied her. “You will accompany me without complaint?”
It was the last thing she wanted to do, but the matter needed to be settled. She would not allow Evangeline to be punished because of her. And Magnus, well, he would learn a mistake had been made. A shiver of dread slithered along her spine at the thought Morgana knew Magnus meant to marry her. She tamped it down, determined to make everything right. Surely she and Morgana could come to an agreement. Syrena only hoped they could do so before Aidan and her brother realized she was gone.
Something cold and damp nudged her hand and she looked into the trusting brown eyes of her pet. “Evangeline, would you return her before we leave?”
“To the stables?”
“Yes, and this time do not knock the old man out, I—”
The ground trembled beneath her feet, the pounding of horses’ hooves drawing near. Please, no, not Aidan, don’t let it be him. Evangeline stood behind Magnus. Her apprehensive gaze met Syrena’s and she knew then that it was.
“Now what have we here?” Magnus purred. Grabbing Syrena’s hand, he tugged her into his arms. “Have you been playing with the Mortals, my love?”
She struggled in his arms and attempted to call out a warning to Aidan but Magnus curled his big hand around her neck. Cutting off her breath, he pressed her face into his chest.
“It seems you have been. Lucky for you, I prefer a woman with some experience to a maiden.” His fingers dug into her throat. Pinpricks of light flashed before her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t pay for the privilege with his life.”
Chapter 10
Aidan’s heart pounded in tandem with Fin’s hooves thundering across the boggy terrain. Instinct, battle-honed, warned him Syrena was in danger. She stood in the center of the woods with her deer, a woman with long, dark hair, and a man—an impossibly large man in golden robes.
“Bloody hell, who are they?” he asked Lan, who rode alongside him. His brother wouldn’t look at him, he stared straight ahead, the color leeching from his face.
Aidan jerked his gaze to Syrena, cursing when the tawnyhaired stranger pulled her against him. Putting his heels to Fin, he raced toward the small copse of trees.
“Aidan, no!” his brother shouted after him.
Aidan ducked below a low-hanging branch to be swallowed up in the cool, damp shadows. When he lifted his eyes, he met the cold, lethal gaze of the stranger head-on. A warning flared to life inside him.
Fae.
The man was Fae, and he wanted Syrena.
Red hazed his vision; a raw, all-consuming blood lust overriding his apprehension. He would do whatever he had to. No Fae man would take someone he loved—not again. With a jerk of the reins, he brought Fin to a halt and swung from his saddle, reaching for his claymore before his feet touched the ground.
“No, please, don’t hurt him,” Syrena pleaded, grabbing hold of her captor’s arm. The man pushed her aside to prowl toward Aidan.
Meeting her frantic gaze, Aidan tried to reassure her, “Doona worry, lass, ’twill be all right.”
A malevolent laugh raised the hair on the back of his neck. The man’s thin upper lip curled in contempt. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Mortal.” With a wave of his hand, he replaced his glittering robes with form-fitting trews. Muscle rippled beneath his golden skin.
“Who are ye?”
His opponent arched a brow then shrugged. “I suppose it is only right for you to know the name of the one who is about to kill you—King Magnus. Now shall we begin?”
Syrena and Lan’s panicked cries reverberated through the woods. Blowing out an exasperated breath, Magnus said, “Such dramatics.”
Leaves and branches rustled behind Aidan, and Magnus looked over Aidan’s shoulder. Brow lifted, he glanced at Syrena, who was being held back by the dark-haired woman.
“Interesting,” he murmured. Returning his attention to Aidan, he said, “I’d advise you to tell him not to interfere. No need for you both to die when my battle is with you alone.”
“Stay back, Lan,” Aidan warned, not taking his eyes from Magnus, who armed himself with a sword. “Why bother with the blade when ye mean to use magick?”
Magnus sneered. “Has no one ever told you, Mortal, it’s against Fae law to use magick when dealing with your race? Not that I need to against the likes of you.” He added with a maniacal grin.
They circled one another. His opponent delivered the first blow, and pain shot through Aidan’s arm. He tightened his grip on his claymore and steeled himself against the tremor of unease that this was one battle he could not win. For Syrena’s sake, for his own, he cast the thought aside.
The forest filled with the sound of metal scraping metal. Their swords locked, caught in a fight for supremacy. The muscles in Aidan’s arms shook and sweat burned his eyes, hazing his vision. A blurred image of Syrena, white-faced with fear, drew from him a cold, hard resolve. He allowed his sword to slip, ducked, and spun to his right. Raising his foot, he delivered a blow to Magnus’s ballocks that brought the man to his knees.
Centering his energy, Aidan smashed the sword from his opponent’s hand. The blade skittered across the forest floor. But there was no chance to savor his victory. Recovering quickly, Magnus wrenched the sword from Aidan’s hand, and flung it against a tree with such force it bent the blade in half. Seemingly unfazed by the blood pumping from his hand, Magnus said, “It’s only fair, don’t you think?”
Before Aidan could respond, a ham-sized fist caught him on his chin and his head snapped back. Refocusing in time to block Magnus’s next punch, the battle raged on. They landed blow after punishing blow on each other.
In the distance, thunder rumbled and lightning stemmed the approach of encroaching shadows. Aidan welcomed the cool droplets that splattered his sweat-soaked tunic, mingling with his blood. Every inch of his body protested, but he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t let the Fae have her.
