Chapter Thirteen
Jasic moved closer to the back porch, where Claire and the warrior McCulloch were having a heated discussion.
“If you take Eileen to the Conclave,” Claire was saying, “she’ll be too easy to find.”
“Do you not think we’ve considered that?” Mac countered. “Culhane has it all worked out. Eileen will be safe in our care and it’s an insult for you to suggest otherwise.”
“You hardheaded Faery, I’m not saying that at all.”
Jasic chuckled to himself at the outrage in the witch’s voice, then listened more carefully as she continued.
“I only think you should consider somewhere else to hide the girl. And Maggie agrees with me. Don’t you think Mab will figure out to look at the Warriors’ home?”
Jasic sidled a bit closer as their voices hushed into strained whispers.
“Mab cannot enter the Conclave. No one can enter the Conclave uninvited. But we’ve no intention of keeping her precisely there, anyway.”
“Then where? Precisely.”
There was a long pause as if Mac were trying to decide whether or not to tell her. Finally, he spoke again. “There’s a small alcove, at the edge of the training field.
If you didn’t know it was there, you wouldn’t even see the blasted thing. The chamber is used for official ceremonies. Mab couldn’t know of it and so won’t find Eileen. Tomorrow we tuck her away there and she’s safe as can be.”
“Jasic?” Nora had spotted him on her way to the kitchen. He jumped, surprised at her call, and as soon as he did, Mac and Claire turned to glare at him.
“How long have you been there, Fae?” Mac demanded.
Jasic straightened to his full height and tugged at his lapels with the tips of his fingers. “Long enough to know that you shouldn’t be spilling secrets. Lucky for you, I’m family. Imagine what might have happened if an enemy had happened to overhear your conversation.”
“An enemy wouldn’t be here. The wards,” Mac reminded him.
“Aye, well, that’s true then. No harm done.” Jasic smiled, gave Claire a courtly half bow, then turned back to Nora. Taking her arm, he steered her into the kitchen. “Now, my darling girl, would you be brewing me some of your fine tea again? What was it we had just yesterday? Orange Zinger?”
Inside the kitchen, Nora filled the teakettle and set it on the stove to heat.
“Jasic,” she asked, turning to face him at the kitchen table, “why were you really eavesdropping?”
“Why, to be sure all is being done to protect my family, of course.” He gave her a sorrowful look. “I am the head of the family, Nora. It’s my duty to look out for all of you.”
Nora nodded and moved to take down two teacups. While her back was turned, Jasic reached for a brownie, bit into it and smiled to himself in satisfaction.
A couple hours later, the house was quiet for a change. Sheba was, of course, asleep under the kitchen table. Bezel was out in his tree house. Eileen was on the computer in her room doing more Fae research. Claire was talking long-distance to her mother in Scotland and who the hell knew where Nora and Quinn were. Though wherever they were, Maggie was pretty sure she knew what they were doing.
Lucky bastards.
She scowled as she carried her coffee out of the kitchen and into the dimly lit living room. This was all Culhane’s fault. He’d taught her about Faery sex, made her want it—and him—and then poof. He was gone. Off in Otherworld doing who knew what instead of being here with her.
So, with no hope of sex, because she absolutely refused to go to Culhane, she was going to wait him out and make him come to her. And since no one was bugging her to fight or train or make royal decisions, she had decided to do something for herself.
Maggie was headed for her bedroom and the easel she’d tucked under the window. She hadn’t had a chance to paint in days and since Nora had moved back into the main house, she’d lost her “artist studio” room. But that was fine. She could work in her cluttered bedroom. And right now, losing herself in the magic of putting paint to canvas sounded like a vacation in Fae heaven.
The scent of pine welcomed her into the living room and her gaze went straight to the multicolored strings of lights on the tree. She smiled. Nora always wanted too many lights, but now that the work was done, Maggie had to admit, it looked gorgeous.
“I’ve never understood the human need to drag foliage into their homes.”
Maggie jumped, slapped one hand to her chest and steadied her mug full of coffee. Her gaze shot to the man comfortably seated on the couch, with his feet kicked up and crossed atop the coffee table. “Jasic. I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Ah, a sad state of affairs to be sure,” he said, patting the couch beside him in a silent invitation for her to join him. “The grandFae, already forgotten by his loved ones.”
Loved ones? Well, they were family, at any rate. And Bezel hadn’t found any dirt on him yet—at least he hadn’t reported anything back to her. Maybe it was time Maggie took a minute to simply talk to the grandfather she’d never known. Nora and Eileen liked him, she knew. He’d charmed them both, which Maggie couldn’t really fault him for. Why wouldn’t he want his family to care for him? So maybe, she thought, bidding a silent good-bye to the painting she’d been about to indulge in, it was high time she tried to get to know him herself.
After all, he seemed to spend a lot of his time here lately. Whenever she turned around he was there, smiling.
Maybe that was the problem, she thought. People who smiled constantly made her nervous.
It was more normal to have a bad day once in a while. To be crabby. Grumpy. Fight the urge to shriek in frustration and yank at your own hair. Or maybe that was just her.
Maggie sat down in a nearby chair, passing up the chance to sit on the couch beside him, thanks very much, anyway. She curled her legs up under her and took a good long look at the man—Fae—who had begun their family line.
He was gorgeous, no two ways about it. And she supposed he did have plenty of charm as well. So looking back, it was easy to see how her grandmother, at the tender age of seventeen, had been swept off her feet and seduced by him.
She had been hardly more than a kid. On a family vacation to Ireland. He had been a centuries-old Faery looking for an easy mark. No way had Gran had the experience to deal with someone like him. It couldn’t have been too difficult for him to smooth talk a young human girl into going to Otherworld with him.
Some of what Maggie felt must have been written on her face, because when he spoke again, he asked a pointed question.
“You don’t like me much, do you?”
Instantly, Maggie felt guilty. Why, she wasn’t sure, but it seemed impolite at the least to make your ambiguous feelings toward someone so easy to read.
“I didn’t say that, Jasic,” she told him. “I don’t even know you.”
“A wise queen,” he mused. “Reserve judgment until all the facts are in?”
She lifted her mug in a silent toast. “Something like that.”
“You’ve a suspicious mind, Maggie,” he said, wagging a finger at her as if admonishing a child.
“No, just a curious one,” she said, pausing for a sip of coffee. “For example, a curious mind wonders why a grandfather who’s known about his family for years waits until one of his grandchildren is the new Queen to drop in and say howdy.”
He laughed a little and the sound was musical, if a bit off-key. “I would never say ‘howdy,’ ” he told her, giving her a brilliant smile aimed to disarm and reassure.
“No, I suppose not.” He was too elegant for that. Too . . . emotionally distant. At that moment, she wondered if he had ever really been touched by anything deeply enough to shatter the shallow facade he showed to everyone.
Nora and Eileen both had embraced this newest member of their family and Maggie really wished she could, too. But the niggling little doubts tugging at the corners of her mind prevented it. What would Gran have
to say about him now? she wondered.
It was eerie how he seemed to know just what she was thinking.
“Your grandmother knew exactly what she was getting into, you know,” he said, his voice soft and smooth. He lifted his wineglass and stared at the Christmas tree lights through the veil of the straw-colored wine. “I made her no promises. I simply offered to take her to Otherworld for a holiday.” He sighed in fond memory. “She was more than eager to go, I assure you.”
“Uh-huh.” Why wouldn’t she have been, Maggie thought. Jasic must have looked like a rock star to Gran. Tall, gorgeous, worldly and exciting. Someone so far from her ordinary world that she’d been unable to resist.
Which, Maggie was willing to bet, Jasic had counted on.
“Your grandmother was a lovely girl,” he was saying. “A delight, as I recall. We spent some delicious times together in Otherworld. She was a boon companion, as we used to say.”
“Uh-huh,” Maggie said as irritation began to rise inside her. “Until the holiday was over. Let’s not forget you deserted Gran and ran like a bunny the minute you found out she was pregnant.”
He touched one finger to his forehead as if tipping a hat he wasn’t wearing; then he smiled benevolently. “You’re more than welcome.”
Her irritation mounted. Okay, clearly she wasn’t going to be charmed into welcoming her grandFae into her life. He was conceited, and not in a sexy way, like Culhane. Arrogant and not because he’d earned the right, like the warriors. And just a little on the snide side, which was supremely annoying all on its own. He behaved as though Maggie owed him a favor for seducing and abandoning her grandmother.
At the moment, he was watching her expectantly, as if waiting for applause.
“I should thank you?” she asked, just a little dumbfounded. “For what?”
He clucked his tongue in disapproval. “For what you are. What you will be. For the world that is opening to you and serving itself up on a jeweled platter.” His mouth tightened and his eyes didn’t look quite as congenial as they had a few minutes ago. “It’s thanks to me, Maggie my love, that you are now Queen of the Fae. All-powerful, poised to rule for eons in an eternally youthful body. Great power. Immortality. Wealth beyond anything your poor human imagination might be willing to construct. And all because I dallied with your grandmother, giving you, my descendants, the blessings of Faery blood.”
The twinkling Christmas lights, the scent of pine and the hush of the house did nothing to soothe Maggie’s rapidly fraying temper. That he could sit there and act as though everything that had happened to her in the last few weeks had been some kind of gift, like an unlimited credit card to Macy’s, absolutely amazed her.
Maggie’s fingers tightened around the handle of her coffee mug until she was surprised she hadn’t snapped it clean off. She wouldn’t have even needed her new Fae strength to achieve it, either. Just good old human indignation. But a cautious voice in her mind warned her not to show him just how much she didn’t like him.
She still didn’t know much about Jasic. For all she knew, he could be a Mafia Faery or something, with connections to the very beings who really wanted her dead. So she forced an innocent expression on her features, deliberately loosened her grip on the mug and told herself to take a sip of coffee. The hot, black brew slid down her throat and sent a welcome warmth rushing through her body.
“You call all of this a blessing?” she asked. “Having my life turned upside down? Worried about enemies coming after my family? Fighting for my life every other minute?”
Despite her own instincts clamoring at her to watch her step, Maggie’s indignation was rising at a fever pitch.
He waved one elegant hand as if dismissing her complaints. “Minor inconveniences in the grand scheme of things, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“Why would I?”
“How can you not?” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs as he met Maggie’s gaze and held it. “This hovel you call home is no longer where you belong. Your place is in the crystal palace in Otherworld.” Briefly, his eyes went soft and shiny. “You will be Queen—no longer bound to this world and the limitations of your species.”
She was pretty sure she’d just been insulted.
“And more importantly,” he continued, leaning back now into the couch cushions, taking another sip of his wine, “you will be in a position to grant me my heart’s desires.”
Here we go, Maggie thought. Finally down to what he really wanted. She should have guessed long before this that good ol’ grandFae had had darn good reasons for reconnecting with a human twig on his family tree.
“What is it that you want, Jasic?”
His gaze speared into hers. Hard, unrelenting. Unyielding. Those brilliant blue eyes glittered like broken glass. “Status,” he said flatly. “Status among the Fae. I want what’s rightfully mine.”
“Of course you do,” she murmured, encouraging him now to spill it all. She wanted to know exactly where she stood with this guy.
He stood abruptly, pushing himself to his feet, setting the wineglass on the table and moving toward the Christmas tree. Reflections of the colored lights seemed to sparkle on him, giving him the look of a man standing in the shadows of a stained-glass window.
When he turned his head to look at her, his features were once more affable, his eyes benign.
But Maggie wasn’t fooled.
“Did you know,” he said, “that as a young Fae, I once trained with the warriors?”
“No.” And frankly, she couldn’t see it. He was pretty, but he was soft. Not like Culhane and the others with their natural strength.
“It didn’t last, of course,” he mused, more to himself than to her. “Warriors are mostly born into the clan, but there are a few who earn their way in. In the end, I decided not to continue with that plan.”
“What stopped you?”
“The training was brutal.” He shrugged. “Not to my taste.”
Translation, she told herself, it was too hard. He’d been expected to work for something and that hadn’t sat well with Jasic. Maggie was getting a true picture here. A selfish male, her grandFae wanted the good things in life and he didn’t want to work for them. He wanted to be special. To be admired, but didn’t have a clue how to go about earning that admiration.
He spoke again and Maggie stopped her wayward thoughts and paid attention.
“You do know that of the males in Otherworld, only the Warrior clan has any true position?”
“Yes.” Hadn’t Culhane explained all of that to her when he’d first come to her? Hadn’t he said that his plan was for her to make things equal in Otherworld? So that the male Fae could expect the same kinds of rights and privileges that the females enjoyed?
“Then you will understand that after centuries of living as less than what I should have been, I find my patience is at an end.” Once again, his eyes hardened. “I want my due, Maggie. Is that really so much to ask from my Queen? My blood?”
Hours later, she was sitting alone in her bedroom, curled up on the window seat, staring through the glass at the sleeping world beyond. Up and down her narrow street, colorful, twinkling lights shattered the night.
Fog was creeping into the city, sliding off the ocean like thick ribbons of gray silk coming off a spool to wind itself around buildings and trees. The holiday lights shone as tiny beacons in the darkness and not for the first time, Culhane thought how Otherworld might shine in the reflected glory of those small, brightly colored lights.
But his gaze fixed on the woman who had, over time, become the very center of his thoughts. She had been destined and he’d watched and waited for her. She was Queen and held the future of Otherworld in her small, talented hands. She was his sovereign, deserving of his protection and service. But she was more.
She was the heart of him. Maggie had slipped inside him, taken him over, meat and bone. She filled him in places he hadn’t known were empty before meeting her. And he must bring her news
that would only cause her more worry. Make her look at him and wonder.
“Maggie.” Her name sighed from his lips.
She didn’t even turn her head, but she smiled, a slight curve of her mouth that pulled at him. “I knew you were here,” she said. “What does that say about me? I wonder. Am I getting attuned to you? Or to the Fae magic?”
“A little of both, I think.”
“Where’ve you been, Culhane?” She lifted one hand and idly traced a single fingertip down the length of the glass.
He moved closer, his steps silent as he walked across the rug-covered wood floor. One day, he would come to her and there would be nothing between them but fire and heat. But that was not this day. “There was trouble.”
“Of course there was,” she said. Finally then, she turned her face up to his and Culhane’s heart clenched in his chest. As her Fae blood blossomed inside her, overtaking her humanity, she became even more beautiful. Her skin was pale, with just a few freckles sprinkled like gold dust on cream. Her eyes were dark and, as he’d suspected, worried, and her shoulder-length dark red hair was pulled back from her face. She wore a long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans and her bare toes were painted a lusty red.
She meant everything to him and it annoyed him that she couldn’t see it. That she still held on to her mistrust. Hadn’t he proven himself to her yet? He had defended her even when she suggested turning the female guards into warriors. What must he do to convince her of his worth?
“So what happened?” she asked.
He sat down beside her and she drew her feet back, as if loath to touch him. Deliberately, he reached out, took her hand in his and said, “There was a . . . skirmish. The Bog Sprites performed a raid on the very spot where we would have been hiding Eileen in the next day or so.”
“What?” Her fingers tensed in his grip.
“Somehow, they knew,” he said solemnly, and could read in her eyes that she understood just what this meant. “Someone had to have informed the Bog Sprites of our plan. There is no other possibility.”
Beguiled Page 19
