Debbie Mazzuca Bundle, page 78
She strode toward them. “The king requires your presence on the battlefield. I’m to replace you,” she said, almost choking with the effort to lower her voice.
The two men didn’t move. The taller of the pair narrowed his gaze on her. “He wouldn’t send a lad to replace us. Who—”
Knowing she had to act fast before their suspicions increased, she said, “Not worried about losing your heads, I see.” With a negligent shrug, she pivoted on her heel. “I’ll inform him of your—”
“No, we’ll go,” the taller man’s companion conceded, obviously not happy he had to leave the relative safety of the palace to face their enemies.
Evangeline took their place. Her stance was cocky as she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest and legs at her ankles for added effect. As soon as they were out of sight, she sprinted up the narrow staircase. At the landing, she faced a rough-hewn door, surprised to find it unlocked. She squared her shoulders, preparing to remain stoic no matter the condition she found Uscias in. Pushing the door open, she strode into the room.
Two guards sat to her left playing cards at a wooden table. The one closest to her twisted in his chair to regard her from beneath bushy auburn brows. “What are you doing up here? Where are Ivor and Eirik?”
She kept her gaze turned away from where Uscias—chained in irons—sat slumped in a chair to her right. “The king ordered them to the battlefield. You’re to replace them down below. Only one man is needed to guard the wizard,” she said, adding a swagger to her deepened voice.
Eyeing her suspiciously, the guard came to his feet. He loomed over her. “You’re unfamiliar to me.” He held a dagger and nudged her chin up with the blade. “Who—”
Jerking her head back, she brought her hand between them then aimed a shaft of magick at his chest. He staggered backward, collapsing on the floor. His companion shot to his feet and fired a bolt at her. She jumped aside, aiming another in his direction. He heaved the solid oak table on its end, deflecting her magick and then threw the table at her. Her cumbersome disguise hampered her movement and the table clipped her shoulder before she could get out of the way as it sailed past to hit the stone wall at her back. She rid herself of the heavy furs with a wave of her hand.
“They sent a woman, Olaf.” He laughed contemptuously, directing his comment to his companion who remained on the floor shaking off the effects of her magick.
“Imagine that, a helpless female,” she jeered, sidestepping the jagged bolt he fired at her. Pulling on her powers for all she was worth, she raised both hands, leveling the two of them with a steady stream of white light. The warrior, who’d been struggling to sit up, fell back. His companion joined him on the wood-planked floor. Wisps of smoke rose from the charred remains of their brown leather jerkins.
Tracing circles in the air, she attempted to bind them in irons. The chains rattled a few inches above the warriors, then fell with a ringing clatter on top of them. A frustrated growl vibrated in her throat. Her power was fading and she’d yet to free Uscias. She’d have to be content that the iron would drain them of their power while they remained unconscious.
She turned to Uscias, relieved to see his clear blue gaze upon her.
“What’s wrong with your magick, Evangeline?” His voice was weak but he showed no visible sign of injury.
“I’ll explain later. We don’t have much time before someone notices no one guards the stairs.” She flexed her fingers, preparing to remove his chains. “Once you’re free, will you be strong enough to transport us from here?”
“Not immediately. I’ll need time to recover.”
She’d been afraid of that. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get you out of here.” Focusing on the ropes of iron, she fired her magick directly at the links in an attempt to weaken them. They rattled and clinked, but nothing more. Drawing on the faint ball of white low in her belly, she pulled harder. This time there were faint pops. The chain loosened, hanging about Uscias’s diminutive form. One more time, she assured herself, that’s all it would take. She closed her eyes, refocusing her energy.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
The bastard had Evangeline. Lachlan fought to contain a surge of panic. Magnus had to be bluffing. There was no way in hell he could’ve got a hold of her. She was too powerful. Lachlan should know, since what little magick he’d retained from sharing her blood had left him feeling all but invincible.
As though Magnus read his thoughts, he looked over his shoulder. With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for someone behind him. Two warriors held a struggling Evangeline—hands behind her back—at a point where Lachlan could see her just beyond the closed golden gates.
“Your choice, MacLeod. Leave or negotiate.” Without awaiting his answer, Magnus vanished in a swirl of light, as did Evangeline.
Broderick, Gabriel, Shayla, and Fallyn pushed their way past the crush of warriors to come to his side. Lachlan motioned for Orin, a warrior of superior skills and one he trusted. “Take the men to the other side of the fjord and await us there. If anything untoward happens, I shall send you a signal.”
Orin nodded grimly, then set about doing as Lachlan commanded.
Lachlan looked to the gates as they squeaked open. “We’re coming with you,” Fallyn said, her expression daring him to argue.
“As are we,” Broderick said, edging past the two women.
Lachlan didn’t bother answering. He needed to get inside to see how Evangeline fared.
Her fury slammed into him the moment he entered Magnus’s grand hall. She sat to the left of the Fae king—a thin chain of iron at her neck, her hands obviously secured behind her back—at a long banquet table in the opulent hall. Her gaze met Lachlan’s, her lips twisting in a sneer. Her look of condemnation was directed at him. Him? Not the man who’d kidnapped both her and Uscias? Christ, ’twas no’ his fault she’d failed in her mission.
Magnus motioned congenially for Lachlan and his party to take a seat. “So glad you could join us. I might have taken offense had I not had the beauteous Evangeline to keep me company.” He drew a finger along her cheek, chuckling when she flinched.
Lachlan’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, wishing it was Magnus’s neck. If the bastard touched her again, it would be. To hell with the Faes’ rules of engagement.
He pulled out a chair and took a seat, catching Uscias’s attention from where his mentor sat on the other side of Evangeline. Uscias answered the silent question in Lachlan’s gaze with a shake of his head.
Good. He was unharmed.
Lachlan leaned back in the chair. “What do ye want, Magnus?”
“What I have wanted all along—ties to the Fae of the Enchanted Isles.”
“Why?”
“If I am allied with you, Dimtri will think twice before declaring all-out war on me in an attempt to steal my lands.”
“Ye expect me to believe that?” Lachlan scoffed. “Was it no’ ye and Dimtri who joined forces to attack us three years past?”
“Much has changed.” The golden-haired king studied his hands, then raised his gaze, “Dimtri can no longer be trusted. The time will come when all of us will have to take a stand against him.”
Lachlan raised a laconic brow. “So ye felt the best way to go aboot strengthenin’ our bonds was to kidnap Uscias and now Evangeline?”
“No, you forced my hand when you refused my sister in marriage.”
Evangeline hurled a contemptuous glare at Lachlan from across the table. Wonderful. Magnus had just confirmed her opinion of him. “I willna have my hand forced by ye or anyone else, Magnus.”
“Andras, bring Jorunn to the hall,” Magnus ordered one of his warriors. The muscle-bound man bore a striking resemblance to the king of the Far North. Lachlan deduced him to be Magnus’s brother.
“I have heard you are a connoisseur of women, MacLeod. I can assure you upon meeting my sister, the idea of marriage to her will not be a hardship.”
“I told ye ...” At the sight of the ethereal beauty who all but floated into their midst, Lachlan’s refusal stuttered to a halt in his throat. Andras guided her to Magnus’s side. With a furtive glance at Lachlan, Andras whispered something in her ear before retreating to the far wall.
The lass was nothing like Lachlan had expected. He’d assumed she’d be similar in stature and manner to her overbearing brother, but it was not the case. Diminutive in height and build, she looked as though a gust of wind would blow her over. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Broderick and Gabriel were as mesmerized by her beauty as he was.
Magnus patted the hand she clutched his shoulder with. “Don’t be shy, Jorunn. Greet our guests.”
Her knuckles whitened. She lifted startling blue eyes rounded with fear, her rosebud mouth quivering in her perfect heart-shaped face. “Hel ... lo,” she stammered.
Despite the evidence of womanly curves beneath the shimmering silver robes that matched the color of her long, unbound hair, Lachlan thought her to be more child than woman.
Not wishing to cause the lass further distress, he directed his question to her brother, “How old is yer sister?”
Magnus greeted his question with a self-satisfied smile, as though he believed Lachlan’s curiosity and the fact he did not reject the proposal outright after seeing Jorunn meant their betrothal was as good as done. Lachlan’s gaze slid to Evangeline. The tension bracketing the tight purse of her full lips confused him. He’d expected to see a smile as smug as Magnus’s. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted all along?
She raised her eyes to his and in that instant took him back to the cave and the fierce desire he’d felt for her—nothing like the tepid stirring in his loins when he looked upon Jorunn. No, Evangeline’s sultry beauty stirred in him a hot, hungry passion like no one else could. It consumed him, destroyed his carefully conceived defenses. He was bewitched by her, by her blood.
Evangeline was dangerous; Jorunn safe. Magnus’s sister would expect nothing from him and he would expect nothing from her. It would not be a hardship to look upon her beauty, and both his uncle and Evangeline’s demands would be satisfied.
“She’s eighteen, old enough to wed. So, MacLeod, now that you have met my sister, will you agree to my terms—Uscias in exchange for you wedding Jorunn?”
“Of course he will,” Evangeline snapped, the high slash of her cheekbones flushed pink.
Fer Chrissakes, did she no’ think he could speak fer himself? He glowered at her, then realized Magnus had said nothing of her release. The way Lachlan was feeling right now, she could bloody well stay in the Far North.
“Ye fergot to mention Evangeline, obviously—”
“Forget Evangeline, no, how could anyone forget her? Her release is not up for discussion. I’ve been meaning to take a wife, but none other than Syrena has ever captured my interest. Until now.” His gaze traveled rapidly over Evangeline, who sat stiffly at his side, her face drained of color.
An uncontrollable rage ripped through Lachlan and he shot to his feet. His blood-red sword vibrated in his hand. “Nay.”
Magnus frowned. “It is not for you to deny me. She is, as I understand, Rohan’s subject. As she’s not of royal blood, I’m certain he will see it as the honor it so clearly is.”
At the mention of his uncle, Lachlan regained a measure of control. Rohan would never force Evangeline into a union with Magnus. No matter the congenial manner the man now displayed, both he and his uncle knew well the brutal bastard Magnus could be. Rohan wouldn’t sacrifice Evangeline. Then, knowing her as he did, Lachlan cursed under his breath. Nay, his uncle wouldn’t, but she bloody well would.
“He can’t. She’s already been promised to me. Evangeline is my betrothed.”
Chapter 13
If Evangeline was prone to swooning, she would have. She couldn’t believe Lachlan had just claimed her to be his betrothed. From the look upon his face, neither could he. Shaking off the light-headedness his remark had engendered, she barely managed to contain her frustrated shriek. Uscias’s release had all but been secured. If Evangeline hadn’t taken matters into her own hands and proclaimed Lachlan’s willingness to wed Magnus’s sister, she knew, given time, he would have. He’d obviously been as enamored with the young girl’s beauty as Broderick and Gabriel.
If she was honest, she’d admit his reaction to Jorunn had so infuriated her, she’d answered for him so as not to hear him agree to the betrothal. So as not to hear him say he wanted another woman in that deep seductive brogue of his. Which was absolutely ridiculous and only served to prove how severely her lack of powers had befuddled her brain, and was obviously the explanation for the almost palpable sense of excitement rising inside her at his declaration.
No, it would not do. For the greater good, she must accept Magnus’s proposal to ensure Uscias’s release. No matter that the thought of doing so filled her with dread.
Magnus turned to her. “Is this true?”
Across the table she met Lachlan’s gaze. The denial she meant to utter stuck in her throat at the heated intensity in his amber eyes. Her traitorous mind and body filled with the memories of the desire he’d ignited in her, of the warmth and tenderness she’d experienced in his embrace, and she found herself reconsidering her response.
The childlike Jorunn, no matter her beauty, would not be the true partner Lachlan required. He needed someone like ... her. Who else but Evangeline could keep him from taking foolish risks that endangered the Fae? No one’s magick was as powerful as hers, well, once it had returned. And Evangeline had no intention of allowing Lachlan to take it from her again.
After careful consideration, she came to the conclusion it was indeed the perfect solution. What better way to fulfill her vow to protect the Fae of the Enchanted Isles than to marry their king? She just had to figure out another way to secure Uscias’s release. Considering Magnus wished to strengthen his ties with the Isle Fae, the solution was simpler than she’d imagined. Either Gabriel or Broderick would serve as a suitable replacement for Lachlan.
“Evangeline,” Lachlan grated out.
“What?” She jerked her gaze to his.
“Ye have yet to answer Magnus.” Lachlan appeared ready to throttle her.
“Yes, it is true. I am betrothed to King Lachlan.” She narrowed her gaze on her supposed betrothed when he muttered a curse. Amid their guffaws, Broderick and Gabriel offered their condolences. No, her head still spinning with thoughts of being wed to Lachlan, she must have misunderstood them.
Fallyn and Shayla stared at her openmouthed while Uscias stroked his silver beard, an amused smile playing on his lips. At least until Lachlan slanted a highly annoyed look in his direction. Whatever was the matter with Lachlan? He had been the one to blurt out the untruth. But the more Evangeline thought about it, the more she warmed to the idea. Her mind already buzzed with plans for the added security she would put in place, the ...
“Then we are back where we started.” Magnus startled her from her strategizing with his testy remark.
“No, no we are not. I have the perfect solution.”
Magnus looked from Evangeline to Lachlan, who slumped in his chair. “It seems your betrothed thinks as your soon-to-be-queen she’s entitled to make decisions that by rights should be made by you. Perhaps I should thank you for circumventing my plans to wed her.”
Lachlan snorted rudely. “Aye, ye should.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “Let’s hear this brilliant plan of yers.”
She refused to let him bait her. She was much too pleased with how everything had worked out to let his sulky mood deter her. “It’s simple. King Magnus wishes a marriage to ensure his ties to the Isle Fae and our Hallows. Both King Broderick and King Gabriel are unwed. One of them shall marry Jorunn.” She lifted a questioning brow in Magnus’s direction.
He shrugged. “She’s right. Either will do.”
Fallyn shot her a murderous glare from across the table.
Evangeline frowned. “I don’t see what the problem is, Fallyn. You don’t want him.”
“Evangeline,” Shayla muttered, giving her the evil eye as she patted her sister’s arm.
The taciturn Welsh king grinned, leaning into his ex-betrothed, who sat beside him. “And I thought you didn’t care,” he purred.
“I don’t. Go ahead and marry the child,” Fallyn said through clenched teeth.
Broderick brought his palm to her cheek, forcing her gaze to his. “Yes, you do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
Evangeline hazarded a glance at Lachlan, anxious to see what he thought of her plan. For the first time that day, he grinned at her. Pleasure blossomed in her chest and she smiled at him. At least someone appreciated the rightness of her solution. But when he waggled those golden brows of his at Broderick and his grin widened, Evangeline realized she had provided the perfect opportunity for the Welsh king to gauge Fallyn’s feelings for him, and to push his suit. The means for Lachlan to be rid of the woman warrior and her sisters. Deflated, she returned her attention to Broderick and Fallyn.
“I’m not stubborn. I—”
Broderick smothered Fallyn’s protest with a kiss before pulling back to say, “You are, and it’s one of the reasons I love you.”
Fallyn blinked. “You love me?”
Broderick’s brow furrowed. “I’ve always loved you. You know that.”
Fallyn’s lips pressed in an uncompromising line. “No, Broderick, I don’t. And perhaps the fact you were kissing another woman on the eve of our marriage has something to do with it.”
The Welsh king waved his hand as though his indiscretion was of no consequence. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Fallyn shoved her chair from the table. “Settle this amongst yourselves. I don’t care what you do,” she said before she stormed from the hall.
With one last damning look in Evangeline’s direction, Shayla hurried after her sister.
Evangeline sighed, certain the two women would soon realize her solution was a sound one. Realizing the object of their discussion remained frozen behind her brother, Evangeline slanted a look at Jorunn. Because of Lachlan’s obvious interest in the girl earlier, she hadn’t been kindly disposed to Magnus’s sister. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever despised anyone more. Given the current situation, she felt somewhat more magnanimous and offered the younger woman a comforting smile.
