Debbie Mazzuca Bundle, page 53
Within the circle of the pines, the shadows deepened as the sun dipped low in the sky. Syrena shivered. The celebration for Rory would soon begin. Unwilling to disappoint Jamie and Alex, she had no choice but to attend. In her short time at Dunvegan, they’d welcomed her as family, a very different family from the one she was accustomed to. She thought of her own, of the Fae, and felt a niggling of guilt. She’d given little consideration to those dependent upon her, but with Lan’s disappearance, her mind had been elsewhere. Her only consolation was that Fallyn and her sisters could easily step in and fill the breach.
She ran her palm over the smooth surface of the stone then stood. Shaking the dirt and crumpled leaves from the bottom of her gown, she walked toward the clearing.
Upon reaching the castle’s entrance, she took a calming breath and pushed open the heavy doors. She ducked inside, relieved to find no one about. A quiet hum of activity filtered out from the grand hall. Several feet from Rory’s study, she noted the door was ajar. She could see Fergus, about to leave, look over his shoulder. A chair scraped across the slate floor and Fergus grunted. She lifted her skirts and rushed toward the stairs before he could see her. His deep voice followed her ascent.
“We told you yer plan to seduce the lass into confessin’ was unconscionable. And to think ye went ahead with it over our objections ’tis somethin’ I never would have expected. I’m sorely disappointed in you, Aidan.”
Aidan exited from Rory’s study. “There’s no getttin’ through to the two of ye. I doona care what Rory’s led ye to believe. Nothin’ happened! I’d already decided . . .” Aidan followed Fergus’s gaze to Syrena’s retreating back.
“Syrena,” Aidan called as she fled up the stairs. She ignored him and he turned to blast Fergus. “Now look what ye’ve done!”
“Me? Nay, lad, that would be all yer doin’.” Fergus shook his head, a look of disgust upon his face. “Leave her be.”
Aidan ignored the man’s misguided advice. He couldn’t leave her be. He wouldn’t have her thinking what happened between them was nothing more than an attempt on his part to get the truth from her. Aye, in his fear for Lachlan, he’d considered the idea. But the more time he’d spent with her, watching her with the bairns and his family, the more he realized he’d acted the fool. Now he just had to convince her. He shoved aside the thought that her feelings meant more to him than they should. The last thing he wanted was to cause her pain. When she spoke of her life with the Fae, he sensed she’d had her share of heartache.
Standing outside her chamber door, he rattled the latch. When it wouldn’t open, he rapped his knuckles sharply on the oak planks. “Syrena, let me in.”
“I doona ken what it is about ye MacLeod lads.” Alasdair MacDonald’s gravelly voice came from behind him. “But I’m thinkin’ I should give ye a lesson on how to deal with the lasses. Lord kens ye and that son-of-mine-by-marriage could use one. Now tell me what ye’ve gone and done to upset yer betrothed.”
Aidan sent his eyes to the timbered ceiling. God help him if Alasdair put it in his head to adopt Syrena as he once had Aileanna. “’Tis nothin’, but thank ye fer yer concern.”
“Nothin’? I doona ken about that. I’m warnin’ ye, lad, seein’ as the wee lass has no one to look to her interests, I have offered my services.” The MacDonald shouldered Aidan aside and knocked. “Syrena, are ye all right, lass?”
The door opened a fraction of an inch, and Syrena smiled softly at the old man. “I’m fine, Lord MacDonald.” She wouldn’t look at Aidan, but he thought she’d been crying and he cursed his and Fergus’s stupidity.
With his finger, Alasdair tipped her chin. “Ye’re no’ fine. What did the fool do to upset ye?”
“’Twas a simple misunderstandin’ is all. One I mean to rectify if ye’d but leave us be, MacDonald,” Aidan said.
Alasdair shook his head. “I’ll say it again, I doona ken what ye lasses see in these lads. Are ye certain ye wish to marry him, pet? My offer still stands. As I told ye earlier, I ken many a fine mon who would leap at the chance to wed ye.”
A fierce wave of jealously swamped him and he reacted without thinking. “The only mon she’ll be marryin’ is me, Alasdair. And I’d thank ye to remember that.”
Syrena’s astonished gaze met his.
Bloody hell, he had to get rid of the meddlin’ old goat. “’Tis no’ my business, Alasdair, but ye may wish to have a word with Rory. He’s threatenin’ to lock Aileanna in her chambers fer disobeyin’ him.”
Alasdair’s brows shot up. “MacLeod!” he bellowed as he strode away. As Aidan intended, his daughter’s plight took precedence over Syrena’s.
At the sound of her soft giggle, he returned his attention to her.
“That wasn’t very nice. Now Rory’s in trouble with Lord MacDonald, and I’m certain he doesn’t deserve to be.”
He shrugged with a self-satisfied smile, then wedged his foot between the door and the frame in case she remembered her anger before he had a chance to explain. “Syrena, we need to talk.”
Her eyes shadowed, and the smile faded from her lips. “I heard everything I needed to.” He barely managed to tear his foot free before she slammed the door in his face.
“Bloody hell, Syrena, that hurt.” Putting his shoulder to the door, he got it open before she set the latch. Ignoring her outraged expression, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Remembering Alasdair, he bolted it.
Arms crossed, she glared at him. “Be quick about it, I have to get ready for the celebration.”
“Ye look fine to me.” She looked more than fine. The fire of her temper glowed in her pink-tinged cheeks and sparked a flame in her topaz eyes.
“What I look like is a woman who’s been bedded.”
His barely banked desire sprang to life, and he dragged her protesting into his arms. “Aye, ye do.” He tangled his fingers in the thick tumble of her curls, tugging gently to force her gaze to his. “A woman well loved.”
For the love of God, she was drivin’ him mad. Making him say things he shouldn’t say, making him feel things he shouldn’t feel.
“Well used.” Her wee fists beat at his chest as she struggled to free herself. “Let me go!”
“Nay, Syrena.” He tightened his hold until, defeated, she stilled and held herself stiffly in his arms.
He smoothed the hair from her face. “Look at me.” When she finally returned her gaze to his, he explained, “I ken ye heard what Fergus said, but ’twas no’ what happened. I wanted ye, Syrena, I still do.” He slid his hand to the curve of her behind and pressed her against the bulge in his trews. “And it had nothin’ to do with gettin’ the truth from ye. I’d decided beforehand ye had naught to do with Lan’s disappearance.” Even though he spoke the truth, a part of him wished he’d held back. Afraid what she’d do with the knowledge of his desire for her.
“But now they know. Fergus and Rory know we were . . ” Her fingers fluttered between them, the flush on her cheeks deepening.
He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Nay, they only think they ken.” Aidan had been about to ask her what did it matter, certain that if all he heard was true, the Fae would not judge her. But he began to think it was nothing more than tall tales the old ones passed down with little relevance to the truth, especially where Syrena was concerned.
“That’s easy for you to say, Aidan. Men are expected to . . . to, but women are not.”
She looked adorable, sweetly flustered and innocent. “Stop, Syrena, ye’re gettin’ yerself worked up fer nothin’. Rory and Fergus will think no less of ye. Besides, thanks to Aileanna, we’re betrothed and many couples have relations before they’re wed.” He grinned. “Just ask Rory and Aileanna.”
“But their betrothal was real, while ours is—”
An insistent pounding on the chamber door interrupted her, and a raspy voice demanded entrance. Aidan never thought he’d be happy to hear Alasdair MacDonald bellowing his name, but he was. He knew what Syrena had been about to say, and for the life of him, he didn’t know how to respond. He’d be damned either way.
“Aidan MacLeod, get yer arse out of the lass’s chamber. Now!”
Syrena stared wistfully at the iced cakes Alieanna had moments ago placed in front of Alex and Jamie. Mrs. Mac had time to make only three, one for Rory, the other two for the boys. “Doona worry, I’m certain they’ll share with ye.” Aidan grinned from where he sat beside her, his eyes glinting with amusement.
“Not if they keep feeding their puppy, they won’t,” she said, watching Jamie wiggle his sugar-coated fingers under the table.
“Their da will put a stop to it soon enough. Has Rory thanked ye fer the demon’s present yet?”
Syrena lifted the goblet of mead to her lips and glanced at Rory, who was talking to Fergus. Rory’s arm draped over the back of his wife’s chair, he absently stroked Aileanna’s shoulder. “Thanks would be overstating the sentiment,” she said before taking a sip of the sweetened wine. She had dreaded making an appearance despite Aidan’s valiant attempt to alleviate her embarrassment. But neither Rory nor Fergus had made her feel awkward. If anything, they’d put her completely at ease. Until the subject of her present to the twins came up, then Rory had gritted his teeth when Aileanna browbeat him into thanking her.
Alex nudged her. “Look, princess.” He giggled, the dog lapping at his fingers.
She smiled. “Careful, he might get sick from all the sweets.”
Aidan laughed and leaned across her to speak to Alex, “Doona mind yer aunt, she’s afraid ye’ll have no cake left to share with her is all.”
“That’s not true.” She looked at Aidan and got tangled up in his laughing eyes, the heat of his shoulder brushing against her arm. She’d never imagined he would look at her in that way again. She didn’t know what was happening between them. She was afraid to hope that they shared more than a passionate interlude, afraid to lower her defenses, although she didn’t know if she had any left. Not after he’d held her in his arms and assured her he wanted her. She lowered her gaze from his and shrugged. “Maybe, just a little.”
Alasdair regarded her over Alex’s head. “Did the bairn call ye princess?”
Aileanna glanced up from admonishing Jamie. “Aye, he did, Da. ’Tis Aidan’s pet name for her.” Aileanna caught Syrena’s eye and shrugged.
Her father quirked a brow. “Treats ye like a princess, does he?”
A prickly heat worked its way from her chest to her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was for Aidan to be reminded of who she was, not that he was likely to forget, but if she could avoid it, she would. Before she could respond, Aidan answered for her.
“Of course I do, doona I, princess?” The way he said “princess,” in his deep raspy voice, was as much a caress as his big hand resting at the nape of her neck, his thumb stroking her fluttering pulse.
Alasdair eyed the two of them, then announced, “I think ’tis time fer ye to wed.”
She felt the imperceptible tightening of Aidan’s fingers and swallowed.
“I would agree with ye, Alasdair, but Syrena and I are headin’ fer London,” Aidan informed him. Slowly drawing his hand from her neck, he reached for his goblet. His knuckles whitened from the force of his grip.
“London? Why would ye be goin’ to London? They’ve only recently got the plague under control.”
“Plague?” Syrena asked. A tremor raced up her spine at the thought Lachlan could have contracted the scourge. Illnesses that affected the Mortals had been much debated in the Enchanted Isles, especially when they thought her inability to do magick was the result of a disease. Her pounding heart calmed when she remembered Uscias’s pronouncement that the Fae were immune to illnesses the Mortals so easily succumbed to. Her brother was half-Fae. Hopefully that would be enough to protect him.
“Aye, it broke out during James’s Coronation last July—”
Rory, who’d turned from his conversation with Fergus, interrupted Alasdair, “Doona fash yerself, Syrena. I’ve heard from my acquaintances that everythin’ has calmed over the last months.”
Syrena appreciated Rory’s attempt to reassure her that Lachlan was safe, at least from the plague. Alex and Jamie turned mutinous expressions upon her. “We doona want you to go,” Alex protested.
“Aye, let Uncle Aidan go by hisself,” Jamie added.
Aidan lifted a sardonic brow and tipped his goblet at the twins. “I’ll miss ye, too.”
Aileanna tousled her son’s fair hair. “We don’t want either Auntie Syrena or Uncle Aidan to go, but they have to find Uncle Lachlan. When they do, they’ll come here before returning to Lewes.”
“Ye will?” Alex asked Syrena.
Unable to resist the pleading look in his bright blue eyes, Syrena said, “Of course I will.” And she realized how very much she wanted to. And just how much the MacLeod family had come to mean to her. She kept her gaze averted from Aidan’s, afraid of what she might see there.
“Well, that settles it. Ye’ll have to wed on the morrow,” Lord MacDonald pronounced.
“Da, I—”
“Doona argue with me, Aileanna. The lass is no’ leavin’ Dunvegan until I see her properly wed.”
Aidan cursed quietly beside her while Fergus and Rory appeared to be having difficulty containing their mirth. Obviously they would receive no help from that end of the table. “I appreciate your concerns, Laird MacDonald, but I—”
The older man reached over and patted her hand. “Ye let me take care of this, pet. ’Tis no’ somethin’ a lass needs to concern herself with.”
“Alasdair, I appreciate the sentiments, but there’s no time, we leave on the morrow,” Aidan protested, a muscle pulsating in his jaw.
Lord MacDonald sighed. “There’s no help fer it then, ye’ll have to do as my daughter did. Ye and yer cousin Rory are two of a kind,” he muttered. Obviously not a favorable comparison, at least as far as Alasdair was concerned. “The two of ye stand up,” he ordered Aidan and Syrena. His tone brooked no disagreement.
He banged his goblet on the long table, the contents spilling onto the white cloth, then bellowed above the chatter of the men and women seated in the grand hall. “Good people, I need yer attention fer a moment. I’m callin’ upon ye to witness the marriage between Aidan MacLeod and Syrena . . . What’s yer family name, lass?”
“Rory,” Aidan growled, slowly coming to his feet.
A heated wave swamped Syrena.
“Uh . . . uh . . . LaFae. Her family name is LaFae,”Aileanna chimed in, elbowing her husband when he snorted a laugh.
“LaFae, is it? I didna ken ye were French. Ah, well, so be it.” He turned back to the fifty or so people gathered around the rows of tables. “The union of Aidan MacLeod and Syrena LaFae. Syrena LaFae, do ye take Aidan MacLeod fer yer husband?”
She looked at Aidan, his focus on something beyond her. She didn’t know what he wanted her to do. His beautiful face was an inscrutable mask as he stood stiffly beside her. A dull ache radiated from her chest to her throat; her gown felt three sizes too small. Sensing Alasdair’s growing impatience, everyone waiting for her to speak, she swallowed and said, “Yes.”
Lord MacDonald nodded then regarded Aidan sternly from beneath his silvery brows. “And ye, Aidan MacLeod, do ye take Syrena LaFae to be yer wife?”
Aidan sent his gaze to the ceiling and shook his head. Syrena thought her heart would stop. Mortified, she felt like crawling beneath the table. Through a blur, she watched the men and women of Dunvegan shift uncomfortably on the benches.
Alasdair cleared his throat, drawing Aidan’s attention to her. How could he do this? If the idea of marrying her was so distasteful, why could he not have told Alasdair before, instead of humiliating her now? And why didn’t you? she asked herself. But she knew the reason. Deep down inside, her foolish hopes lived on.
She blinked back tears, her throat so tight she struggled to breathe. She wouldn’t cry. Not here, not now.
Aidan’s gaze softened. He brought his hand to her cheek and wiped away a tear she didn’t realize had fallen. “Aye, I’ll take her fer my wife. Are ye satisfied now, MacDonald?” Aidan didn’t wait for Alasdair’s response. He tugged Syrena into his arms and brushed her lips with his. His kiss was gentle, a soothing balm to her savaged emotions. And in that moment, held close in his powerful embrace, she almost believed her long-ago dreams might actually come true.
“Mam, will Auntie Syrena get a bairn in her belly like ye?” Jamie asked loudly.
His mother groaned. “Jamie, that was supposed to be a secret.”
“Is it true, Aileanna? Are ye with child?” her father asked.
“Aye,” Aileanna admitted reluctantly. “But we’ll talk of it later. ’Tis time to toast Syrena and Aidan.”
Aidan’s hand dropped, and he set Syrena aside. His jaw was set in a hard line, his expression shuttered. “Nay, Aileanna, I apologize, but I have much to see to if Syrena and I are to leave on the morrow.” That said, he strode from the dais.
Chapter 19
Syrena’s hardnosed silence grated on Aidan’s nerves. They were half-a-day’s ride from Dunvegan, and she’d yet to say a word to him. He’d heard her sniffling after her tearful goodbyes to the bairns and Aileanna, but he didn’t credit her sorrow with her sullen disposition.
Nay, he was all but certain his abrupt departure from the celebration and his absence from the marriage bed were the reasons for her terse responses whenever he attempted to make conversation.
