Warrior of the Isles (6 page)

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Authors: Debbie Mazzuca

BOOK: Warrior of the Isles
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“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.
“It burns.” She let her hand fall away.
Aidan couldn't help himself. He pressed his palm to the mark.
“Oh,” she gasped. Her gaze went to his, and instead of the rebuke he expected, she rewarded him with a soft smile. “Your hand is cool. It's soothing.” She rested her head on his shoulder.
The gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath his palm caused him to swallow a groan. The tips of his fingers inadvertently stroked the full swell of her breast and he felt her squirm in his lap. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he lowered his head, about to press his lips to her wound when the clamor of male voices drew his attention. He jerked his hand away.
“Ouch,” she cried, bringing her hand to where his had been.
He winced. “I'm sorry, Syrena.”
She followed his gaze. “Who is that?”
“My brother. Mayhap ye should have that visit with yer pet now.” He nudged her from his lap, then thought it may not have been the wisest move on his part—his desire for her plain for all to see. He turned his mind to his brother and his blatant disregard of his orders, relieved when the action had the desired effect.
Lachlan swaggered into the hall with the men trailing behind him. “And what have we here?” his brother asked. Coming toward them, he eyed Syrena with appreciation. The others glanced their way before gathering by the hearth and bellowing at the maidservants for ale.
Aidan nudged Syrena, but she paid him no mind. “See to yer pet.” His tone gruff, angry at how his brother looked at her, and at himself that it irked him as much as it did.
She shook her head. Her gaze riveted on Lachlan. Her pink lips parted as though entranced by what she saw.
His brother grinned, well used to his effect on women. “ 'Twould appear the lass wishes to remain, Aidan.” Lan took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “'Tis a pleasure to meet ye, my lady. Doona mind my brother. My men and I would welcome yer bonny company.”
Aidan barely contained the urge to shake him. “Yer men, brother? Nay, ye're mistaken, they're my men, and 'tis the last time ye'll risk their lives fer some foolhardy scheme ye've concocted.” He yanked the lass's hand from Lachlan's.
“Syrena,” he snapped. “If ye doona go to that wee beastie of yers and see to her care, we'll be havin' her fer our dinner.”
His threat was enough to draw her attention, she whirled to face him. “How can you say that to me? You promised you would not harm her. I just wanted to spend some time with—”
“I doona care what ye wanted. I mean to have words with my brother and I can promise ye they'll no' be fit fer a lady's ears. Now be on yer way.” He gave her a light shove in the direction of the hall's entrance. Between his brother, and her reaction to him, Aidan's patience wore thin.
She glared at him, and jabbed her finger into his chest. “I thought you were different, but you're not.” She rose up on the tips of her golden slippers in an effort to look him in the eye. “I intend to . . . I intend to come right back here once I'm finished seeing to my deer and you . . . you can't stop me.”
He lowered his face to hers. “I can, and I will. And until I say ye may return, I doona want to see yer bonny face anywhere near here. Do ye understand me?”
With a haughty toss of her head, and one last look at his brother, she limped from the room. He heard the heavy doors to the keep shut once, and then again. Despite himself, he chuckled at her futile attempt to slam them.
Lachlan eyed him with interest. “I apologize, brother, I didna ken ye wanted the lass fer yerself.”
“I doona.” He did, but it was not something his brother needed to know. Especially since nothing could come of it. “Stay away from her, Lan.”
Lachlan held up his hands. “Whatever ye say. All I want is some ale and to celebrate with the men. 'Twas a verra successful raid, wasna it, lads?”
“Aye,” several of the men shouted. At Aidan's quelling look, the celebratory cheers ended. They sheepishly averted their gazes from his.
He returned his attention to his brother. “On whose authority did ye make this raid?”
“Mine,” Lachlan said belligerently. “Ye were no' here.”
“Aye, I wasna. And ye ken well enough I wouldna given it to ye in the first place. I grow tired of this, Lan. 'Tis time to rebuild and no' take part in these petty skirmishes that put the men at risk. The Lowlanders are done for. Given time they'll realize it. And besides that, our uncle has been appointed agent to King James and means to put in a good word for us. So—”
Lachlan gave a derisive snort. “That should go over well with John Henry.”
Aidan didn't want to talk about his cousin. At one time they'd been close, but since John Henry had married Davina, the woman that had been promised to Aidan, there relations were strained. “As I was sayin,' I'll no' have ye puttin' our chance fer peace at risk. No more, Lachlan, or ye'll suffer the same consequences as anyone else who goes against my orders. I am laird and my word is law, best ye remember it.”
“How can I no', brother? 'Tis all I ever hear and I grow tired of it. Am I never to be given any responsibility?”
Aidan ran his hand through his hair, weary of the neverending battle of wills with his brother. “Ye have much to learn, Lan. Ye're only nineteen, time enough fer ye to bear the burden of responsibility.”
“We return with two cows and no one injured.” Lan glanced over his shoulder. “No' bad at least, and ye canna even congratulate us on a job well done. All ye do is make me feel foolish, as worthless as a bairn.” He pushed aside Aidan's restraining hand and strode from the hall.
Syrena sat on the hard, mud-packed floor strewn with hay, the deer's head in her lap. “Who does he think he is ordering me about like that?” she said, casting a surreptitious glance around the interior of the stable to be sure she was alone. Relieved when she saw no sign of the cantankerous old man who had confronted her at the entrance to the barn.
She patted the soft muzzle of the deer and released a heartfelt sigh. She'd found her brother, and he was as beautiful as the most handsome of the Fae men with his golden hair and eyes. As beautiful as his brother.
Syrena frowned as soon as the thought entered her head. She wished she could deny it, but she couldn't. Aidan was beautiful, powerful yet gentle with an underlying kindness. She snorted at her fanciful musings. Gentle . . . hah, kind . . . hah, the man was an overbearing beast.
Her hand went to her chest as she remembered how his palm had cooled the scratch that ravaged her skin. The memory of his fingers stroking the tops of her breasts and her body's reaction to his touch caused a shiver of trepidation to ripple down her spine. She'd wanted him to keep touching her, to kiss her. Never before had she had feelings such as those. She groaned. She'd been right from the beginning. Aidan MacLeod was dangerous, and the sooner she and Lachlan were away from there, the better.
The door to the stables flung open and her brother stormed into the dimly lit room, cursing loudly. He came to an abrupt halt upon seeing her. “I'm sorry, my lady, I didna ken ye were about.” He rubbed the darkened stubble along his jaw in a manner similar to his brother. “What have we here?” he asked, lowering himself onto the ground beside her.
The deer sent Syrena a pained look and she realized that in her excitement her fingers dug into its fur. She grimaced, and gentled her touch. “She's my pet. Your brother shot her, but I think she will soon recover.” She smiled at him, finding it hard to believe her brother sat beside her. The little boy she'd come to love had grown up, and he was her family. The only family she had left.
His brows shot up. “Ye've made a pet of the beastie and my brother allowed it?” At her nod, he let out a low whistle. “Aidan must be more taken with ye than I first imagined.”
Heat suffused her cheeks. “He's not taken with me, and I'm not taken with him,” she felt the need to add. She didn't want to talk about Aidan, or think about him for that matter. Her only interest lay in her brother.
A crooked grin creased his beautiful face. “Nay? Then mayhap ye and I should get to ken each other a bit better.” He raked her from head to toe with a bold look, then reached out and wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger.
She let out a horrified gasp and slapped his hand away. “Stop that, Lachlan. I'm your sister,” she blurted out.
He frowned, slowly unfurling her hair from his finger. “Are ye daft? I have no sister.”
She hadn't meant for it come out that way. Now she had no choice but to tell him the truth. “Yes, you do. We share the same father and he's asked that I bring you home to the Enchanted realm.”
He leapt to his feet and backed away from her, stumbling over a clump of earth. “Who . . . who are ye?”
Syrena lifted the deer's head from her lap and gently placed it on a pillow of hay. She came to her feet, but didn't try to close the gap between them. “I told you, I'm your sister. Don't you remember me, Lachlan? When you were a little boy, you came to me in my mind.”
A look of panic darkened his chiseled features. “Go. Leave here, now!”
“It's the truth, Lachlan. You are my brother, and I can't leave you. I've come to take you home with me.”
“I said leave here. I don't want ye anywhere near me.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard before pushing her away from him. “I want nothin' to do with ye.”
Her breath came in painful gasps, his rejection a tight fist closing around her heart. But she couldn't let it end, not like this. “Please, Lachlan, I understand your shock, but we must talk. We're family.”
He shook his head vehemently from side to side. “No' another word. Get away from here before I can no longer control myself. Yer kind has brought nothin' but sorrow to my family. If my brother finds out what ye are, he'll kill ye with his bare hands.”

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