He looked, let’s face it, spectacular.
Maggie wanted him all over again. Her entire body quivered at the thought. But, she guessed, playtime was over. His features were implacable, his stance that of a hard, ruthless man ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Not a trace of tenderness could be found in his eyes. They were cool and steely as if he’d already separated himself from what had gone on before. Only moments ago, he’d been the kind of lover most women could only dream about. Now he was the warrior she knew him to be.
“Okay, you win this round,” she conceded. “I suppose we have bigger problems to deal with at the moment than your name—”
He inclined his head.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m forgetting about it,” she warned. “I will find out.”
“No,” he said, with the barest hint of a smile. “You won’t.”
“You’re a hard man, Culhane,” Maggie told him as she scooted off the bed and faced him. She didn’t miss the quick flick of his gaze as he took her in and she relished the flash of heat that look engendered. Still, if he was already dressed, party time was over for the moment. “So. Can you do me?”
His mouth quirked. “I believe I just have.”
“Not what I meant. Nobody likes a funny warrior.” Yet her mouth curved in amusement anyway. “Clothes. I meant can you dress me as quickly as you did you?”
He lifted his hand again and just like that, Maggie was wearing her favorite style of jeans, a dark blue sweater and a new pair of fabulous black boots.
“Excellent,” she said, and bounced experimentally on her toes. “They’re even comfortable. You’re a lot hand ier than the mall, Culhane.”
He smiled. “I live to serve, my Queen.”
“Cool.” She grinned. “Now, I think we should get back to my house and let everyone know about Mab.”
He shook his head firmly. “That is not wise. I will go and get your family. Bring them to the palace for safekeeping.”
Maggie laughed. “You can’t be serious. This is Mab’s old home. She knows her way around here way better than I do. Nora and Eileen wouldn’t be safe in the palace. They’re better off in the mortal world.”
He smiled at her.
“What?”
“That’s the first time you haven’t called the mortal world your world.”
“Huh.” She blinked, thought about that for a second or two and was surprised to realize he was right. For weeks now, Otherworld had been his, the mortal world, hers. She wasn’t sure when the shift had taken place, but it seemed that even her subconscious was recognizing the truth. She really had made her decision. This was home now. This world. This palace.
Him.
“You’re right.”
“I am pleased.”
“Happy to help,” she said, then added quickly, “I’m not giving up the mortal world entirely though, okay? I want to keep my house there and spend time there as well. This will be home base, but that world still has a part of me, too.”
“I understand.”
“You know,” Maggie told him softly, “I think you really do. Which just makes this whole thing much easier.”
She gave a quick look around the throne room. The bed was gone, thanks no doubt to more of Culhane’s magic. But it would be back if they needed it—not that she needed a bed in the throne room. But some chairs, maybe a few of her paintings on the walls, a couch or two and some brightly colored rugs. And a fireplace in here and in her bedroom.
“Hey,” she said, “do I even have a bedroom here?”
“Several,” he said, smiling at her again as if he were really enjoying her getting into the whole queen thing. Well, good. He could enjoy. She’d be nervous.
“Good. Okay.” She nodded to herself. “We’ll get around to redecorating later. Maybe Claire can help. Not Nora, though. She’d hang wind chimes and mac ramé pot holders all over the place.”
She was really going to do this, Maggie thought. Be a queen. Live in a palace. As those thoughts rolled through her mind, she waited for an internal shriek of panic to erupt. But it didn’t. A good sign? Or was she just too crazy to realize the enormity of what she was doing?
From outside the palace came the sounds of music. Pipes, fiddles, drums. It was a lively tune, bright, upbeat, optimistic. Maggie was glad for it and took it as a good sign. She would soon be facing plenty of problems and she liked hearing something that sounded so stubbornly cheerful.
“This is going to work,” she murmured, more to herself than Culhane. She could do this. She would do this. Her grandfather had always told her that the key to getting anything done was to just do it. Stop standing around. Jump in with both feet and get it done.
If you screwed it all up, you could always fix it.
“We should speak to the warriors before we go to your sister,” Culhane was saying. “They may have further word of Mab.”
“No.” Maggie looked right at him and silently dared him to argue with her. If she was going to be Queen, then she should practice putting her foot down occasionally. Could you take queen lessons, she wondered, then dismissed the notion. The only queen she was vaguely aware of was Elizabeth, and what could a woman who carried an empty purse teach her?
“We’ll go to my house first. I need to warn Nora now. Get her and Eileen to leave the guesthouse and move into my place. If we’re all in one spot, we’ll be safer.”
“But you’re staying here,” he reminded her.
“Soon,” she told him, and saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Well, she couldn’t help that. He’d find out soon enough that she meant what she’d said. The palace would be home for her, but at the moment, other things had priority. “For right now, I need to be with my family.”
“Maggie . . .”
“Just draw the portal, okay? We’ll see Nora, then the warriors. . . .”
He did as she asked, though she could tell he was irritated. Ooh. News flash.
A golden circle opened up in front of her. Familiar scents of home blew in from the center of that circle and Maggie moved toward it; then she remembered something, stopped and said over her shoulder, “We also need to talk about the female guards. I want them to be warriors, too.”
“You what?”
“I spoke to Ailish about this. Flying warriors. Big advantage. Huge.” She stepped through the portal, still talking, and so didn’t hear Culhane’s shout of outrage until they were standing in her kitchen.
“Ooh, cookies.” Maggie walked straight for the cooling rack on the counter. She hadn’t even realized just how famished she was. Great sex really could make you hungry. Good thing she had that superfast Fae metabolism thing going for her now, because the way she was feeling, she could inhale the whole kitchen.
“Hello to you, too,” Nora said as she tucked another full cookie sheet into the oven.
“Hi, Nora. Good cookies.” Maggie took a big bite and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.” She chewed, then swallowed and reached for another still-warm cookie. “We need to talk about something.”
“Aunt Maggie, hi,” Eileen said. “Finn told Mom and Quinn about how I accidentally let Mab out of her painting.”
“I can’t believe they had her in a painting where anyone could have touched her,” Nora said with a shake of her head. “You’d think a wizard would have been smarter.”
“Good point,” Maggie told her, grateful that Finn had already broken the news. Looked like Nora was taking it all right. Of course, when Maggie’s sister was nervous or worried, or for that matter happy or excited, she liked to bake. Kept her mind off things and kept her busy. Which worked well for Maggie, because in times of stress or joy, Maggie liked to eat.
“Oh,” Eileen said with excitement, “also, Mom says I can be a Fae if I want to. And Quinn says you know how to make me one, so I’m like completely ready to—”
“No, you’re not.” Nora gave her “the look.” Maggie was pretty sure they taught that move to new mothers right after giving birth.
“Anyway”—Maggie shifted a look at Quinn, who stood close to Nora—“I need to talk to you, too.”
“No,” Culhane told her as he stepped through the portal right behind her, “we need to talk.”
“Trouble in Torea,” Bezel muttered.
“Huh?” Eileen whispered.
“Think heaven but better,” the pixie told her.
“Fine, but I want to talk about becoming a Fae. Mom said I could and—”
Maggie ignored Eileen’s complaint along with everyone else, turned around to look at Culhane and saw that he was practically vibrating with banked fury. It was written all over his features. His pale eyes were flashing and his jaw was tight as he gritted his teeth.
Damn. What could have gone so wrong in one short portal jaunt?
“What’s wrong with you?”
He glared at her as if she were crazy. “You want the female guard to join the warriors?”
“Impossible!” Quinn bellowed.
“What a great idea,” Nora said, and dropped more cookie dough onto an aluminum sheet.
“According to my research, female Fae are just as mean in a fight as men, and they can fly,” Eileen reminded them all. “I mean, remember how tough Mab was?” She frowned. “Um, let’s not talk about Mab.”
“Knock it off, kid,” Bezel muttered, his gaze flicking from Maggie to Culhane and back again. “This is one fight we don’t want a part of. Trust me on this.”
Quinn crossed his arms over his enormous chest, scowled at Maggie and declared, “The females cannot be warriors.”
“Why the hell not?” Nora demanded, then caught herself, glanced at Eileen and said, “Heck. I meant, heck.”
“It is not possible.” Quinn ground out the words.
Then Nora turned on Quinn even while Maggie faced off with Culhane.
Culhane stared in disbelief at the woman who only an hour ago had cradled his body inside hers. They’d connected on a level he’d never before reached with a woman. Their minds, souls and hearts had touched. Bonded. How could she possibly think he would go along with this foolish plan?
“You do not know what you’re asking,” he said as calmly and patiently as he could manage.
“Not asking,” Maggie told him. She was responding to his ferocity by letting her own temper rise. “Telling. I’ve already decided this, Culhane. I talked to Ailish and she and the other females are ready and eager to fight. You can use them, so hey, makes sense all the way around.”
“You cannot do this.”
“Just back up a step or two, Mr. Warrior. I’m the Queen here. Remember?”
“Good point, Mags!” Nora cheered for her sister, and glared at her warrior.
Fine, Culhane admitted silently. He’d handled that badly. He shouldn’t have corrected her in front of her family and Quinn—not to mention, Bezel. When his Queen was in error, Culhane should calmly and quietly take her aside and show her the correct way of things. It is how he had always planned on her reign progressing. This was just going to take some time. After all, the greatest hurdle had been met. She had decided to accept her duty. Move to the palace. Rule Otherworld.
Now all they needed was for her to learn how to rule. So he tried again. More calmly this time. Though it was difficult.
“My Queen, I meant no disrespect, of course—”
“You’re insane, too! You can’t think to allow this, Culhane! The warriors will not stand for it!” Quinn shouted, and Culhane spared him one long, fulminating look.
“You’re a genderist,” Nora accused, a horrified look on her face.
“A what?”
“You’re discriminating against the women because of their gender. Okay, there’s probably a better word for it, but you know what I mean.”
“Love,” Quinn said, “I am not angry with you. . . .”
“Lame,” Bezel muttered.
“Maggie,” Culhane continued in a voice loud enough to drown out everyone else’s so that he might regain her attention, “surely you see that to bring females into the Warrior clan could not possibly work.”
“Nope,” she said, grabbing up another cookie and taking a bite. “Don’t see that at all.”
Culhane took a slow, deep breath and willed himself to calm. She was doing this on purpose. There were too many people in this room; that was all. She felt backed into a corner because he had handled her badly. All he had to do was take her aside, explain the way of things and then she would do the right thing and agree with him.
“Chill out, Culhane,” Maggie told him, then asked Nora, “Do we have any milk?”
“Just bought some,” her sister said, still shooting daggers at Quinn.
“Chill out?” Culhane demanded. “What is that?”
“It means calm down, oh-high-and-mighty Fenian Warrior,” Bezel told him.
“I am perfectly calm!” His shout rattled the window-panes.
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” Maggie told him as she moved around the table, headed for the fridge.
“Here’s a glass,” Nora said, handing one over.
“Thanks.”
“We are not here to eat cookies, Maggie,” Quinn announced.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Maggie told him abruptly, then narrowed her eyes. “And that’s Queen Maggie to you, buddy.”
Bezel laughed and scrubbed his long-fingered hands together. “Hoot! Listen to Her Majesty!”
“Quiet, pixie,” Culhane ordered.
“Quit picking on him because you’re mad at me,” Maggie told him as she poured milk into her glass and took a long drink.
“You’re a bully, Culhane,” Nora threw in, then added just for good measure, “And so are you, Quinn Terhune.”
“Me?” The Viking was appalled.
“Fifty-three percent of family squabbles end with a visit from the police,” Eileen pronounced to no one in particular.
“Jeeez, kid, put a sock in it, will ya?” Since he didn’t have a sock handy, Bezel shoved a cookie in Eileen’s mouth and dropped one to the dog as well, to stop her whimpering.
Maggie whistled, a shrill, short blast of sound that had everyone in the room shutting up instantly. “I didn’t mean to start World War Three here or something. I just talked to Ailish, the secondary commander of the guards. She said the girls were ready to fight and I said good idea. Told her I’d talk it over with my Chieftain”—she shot a disappointed look at Culhane—“and that I would make sure the females got their chance to fight.”
“You should not have done that, Maggie. There are rules. Traditions.”
“And I’ve already broken dozens of ’em, okay?” She picked up her milk glass, took a drink, then set it down again. “I get that I’m not your ordinary Fae Queen. And you have to understand that, too. I’m not going to be doing everything the way it’s always been done, because I don’t freaking know how it’s always been done.”
“I will tell you,” Culhane said through gritted teeth.
“Fine. I’m willing to listen. But I’m also not going to be jumping every time you tell me to. You wanted me to be the Queen, Culhane. Well,” she said with a sigh, “I am. And I’m going to do it my way.”
“This road will lead to madness,” Quinn mumbled.
Maggie frowned and said, “Look, all I’m saying is, it makes sense that the female guards fight if they want to. They’re trained warriors.”
Quinn snorted.
“If you do this thing,” Culhane warned, ignoring his friend because he was still trying to remain calm and coolheaded, “it will only cause more trouble. The warriors will not accept the female guard. And this is not why I fought so hard to help you become Queen.”
Maggie tipped her head to one side, studied him for a long moment or two, then walked toward him. Suspicion glittered in her blue eyes, along with a hint of danger that should have warned any sane male in her vicinity to take a walk. Culhane, though, was made of sterner stuff than most males. He stood his ground.
“Just why did you
fight to put me on the throne, Culhane?” she asked thoughtfully. “So I could be a good little warrior puppet? Was that the idea all along? Were you planning on jerking my strings and telling me which way to move, what to say, what to think?”
“Of course not.” Not in those particular terms, at any rate.
She looked at him as if she didn’t believe him and that stung more than he would have cared to admit.
“It doesn’t really matter why, I guess,” Maggie said. “Because if that was the plan, it’s not going to work. I’m my own woman—Fae—Queen. You might not like everything I do, but you’re not going to stop me from doing it. And I say the female guards are going to fight with the warriors.”
“Insulting,” Quinn muttered, then hissed out a breath as Nora punched him in the stomach.
Culhane was still striving for reasonable, though his temper was near the boiling point. How had this day suddenly turned asunder? Only an hour or so ago, he had been filled with hope for his world and his brave new Queen. How had he lost control of this situation? And more importantly, how could he get it back?
“Better to give the males the power of flight,” he pointed out in a cool, rational, she’ll-have-to-listen-tome-now tone. “Then we have flying warriors without the trouble of females trying to fit in where they have no place. Males are the better fighters, remember.”
“Maybe you should remember whom you’re talking to, Culhane,” Maggie said softly.
“Uh-oh,” Bezel murmured.
Culhane’s gaze was fixed on Maggie as she closed in on him. Gone was the tender, yet fiery lover he’d held so briefly in his arms. Here stood a queen in all her furious glory. And though she infuriated him, he couldn’t help the swell of admiration he felt for her, either. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and glared at him hard enough to turn him to stone.
“I’m female, remember?” she asked. “And in the last few weeks, I’ve fought demons, rogue Fae and even a damn crazy queen. Not to mention, you.”
“Yes,” he agreed, then added, “Although—”
“Not finished yet,” she told him, cutting him off before he could even end his sentence. “It’s time you warriors get a grip. You guys are not the only ball game in town, you know.”
Beguiled Page 14
