Beguiled

by Maureen Child

  Shaking her thick dark red hair back from her face, she looked down at him and whispered, “In this room, Culhane, we’re not Queen and Warrior, okay? Here, we’re just us. Here, what we have together is all that matters.”

  “You are right, Maggie,” he told her, watching her breathlessly as she rose up on her knees. “Here, we are two lovers caught in our own storm.”

  “Now that,” she sighed as she slowly, inch by tantalizing inch, lowered herself onto him, “sounds wonderful.”

  Culhane groaned, arched up, pushing his body into hers, forcing her to take him faster, harder than she’d planned. He watched her face as he filled her. Watched her tip her head back in pleasure as his body claimed hers completely.

  She moaned and swiveled her hips atop him, grinding her center against him, twisting and writhing, making them both fight for air, fight for release.

  Her breasts swayed with her movements and he lifted his hands to cup them, his thumb and forefingers tweaking and pulling at the hardened nipples until she gasped and offered herself more fully into his touch.

  She was all. Everything. Whether she wanted to believe it or not, even in this room, she was a queen. His Queen.

  His hands dropped to her hips and he guided her as she moved on him, rocking her body in a timeless rhythm. Releasing his body only to reclaim it again a moment later. The smooth slide of his body into hers tore at him, rending his heart, his soul.

  He felt her inner muscles bunch and tighten, fisting around him, squeezing him as she rode the first thundering wave of her climax. She called out his name and he tightened his hold on her hips, holding her down, pinning her to his body as she quivered and shook with the force of their joining.

  Groaning, Culhane pumped up and into her until the same wash of sensation took him over and he surrendered to the pleasure of emptying himself inside her heat.

  Moments later, Maggie curled into him and Culhane held her close. Outside the room, night ruled Otherworld and the lights of the city stained the starlit sky with a wash of brightness. She was now officially a part of his world and Culhane felt the rightness in that. Otherworld would, undoubtedly, be better for her presence, but he knew that she herself was the world he would willingly die for.

  Culhane stared up at the ceiling, felt Maggie’s breath on his chest and knew that something profound had happened to him. He felt something for her that he had never known before. Something he hadn’t counted on or prepared for. She touched him in places that had long been empty and cold. She made him want to be more. Do more.

  His eyes widened and his heartbeat suddenly galloped in his chest. He loved her.

  Culhane examined that knowledge for a long moment. In all his long years of life, he had never been more surprised. Yes, he had known from the beginning that she would be his. But he had always assumed that she would love him and he would allow it. This, his love for her, had not been a part of his strategy. Loving Maggie would only complicate things. Would make his plans for Otherworld more difficult to bring about. Yet, how could he not love her? And how could he not tell her?

  No, he told himself, now was not the time for such confessions. Things were still too unsettled. She had been in her palace all of one day. It wasn’t time yet for new revelations.

  But he could say something else.

  Sliding one hand up and down her spine, he waited for her to look up into his eyes; then he smiled and whispered, “Now that we are married, I think we should make children together, Maggie.”

  She went absolutely still.

  Several seconds ticked past.

  Finally, she said, “What?”

  “Children,” he repeated, confused by her reaction, but willing to explain his reasoning so that she might see the logic in it. “To ensure your bloodline continues on the Fae throne. Even though the Fae are immortal, there may come a day when you wish to step down. It is necessary to have one of our children ready to succeed you.”

  Abruptly, Maggie sat up and scooted away from him. He felt the loss of her warmth far too deeply for his own comfort.

  “We should have children? Now that we’re married?” she repeated. “When did that happen? When did we say, ‘I do’? Hell, when did you propose?”

  Culhane frowned at her and shifted position, to recline against the heavily carved headboard. He shoved a pillow behind his head. “Propose?”

  “You know,” she told him sharply. “When did you ask me to marry you?”

  Bewildered, he only looked at her. “Why would I do that?”

  “What?” She shook her head as if she weren’t hearing him clearly. “Why?”

  “Maggie,” he said with a patient sigh, not really understanding her cause for alarm, “when we had sex for the first time, I told you then. I said, With this mating, I claim you.”

  She frowned, pushed one hand through her hair and thought about that for a second. “Okay, yeah. I remember hearing you say that, but . . .”

  He shrugged. “We are joined.”

  “Joined. That meant you married me?”

  “Of course.” Culhane frowned slightly, shook his head and said, “Why else would I have claimed you?”

  “For the sex?” she countered.

  “Sex is separate from the joining. They are not at all alike.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that, did I?”

  He sat up, reached for her and was irritated anew when she pulled free of his grasp. “It does not matter if you knew or not. The deed is done.”

  “Well, undo it.”

  “I cannot,” he told her calmly. “And would not, even if I could.”

  “I’m the Queen. I’ll undo it.”

  He smiled. “Even the Queen cannot dissolve a joining until a child has come from it.”

  “Are you serious?” Maggie couldn’t believe this. How could she be married? Then something else occurred to her. “What exactly is a Fae marriage? Are we bound together now? Inseparable or something?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “We are connected deeply, but it is a joining much like a human marriage, though for the Fae, a marriage happens only when a child is desired.”

  “I don’t desire one.” Not right now, anyway, she told herself.

  “But I do.”

  “This is ridiculous,” she muttered, scrambling off the bed, stumbling as her foot caught in one of the draping quilts. She grabbed it up, wrapped it around her naked body and clutched it as a warrior would a shield. “I am not married and I am not getting pregnant.”

  He smiled. “Your passion burns so brightly, you will keep me warm for centuries,” he mused. “And you will fight with me, I know. But you are married and you should have a child.”

  She couldn’t believe this. She was married?

  It couldn’t possibly count, could it? Not if you didn’t know you were being married. Not if you weren’t asked. There’d been no ceremony. No party. No cake. Just a sneaky Fae Warrior slipping something past her. Bastard. He’d used Faery sex and his big . . . self, to knock her off kilter a little. He’d made her crazy with want and need and then married her when she wasn’t looking! Talk about a sneaky bastard.

  “You’re nuts, Culhane,” she accused, stabbing one finger at him. He slapped negligently at the blue flame that struck his chest. “And just wait a damn minute here. I thought the male Fae didn’t have any rights in Otherworld. How do you get to marry me without even telling me?”

  He sighed and leaned both forearms on his upraised knees. “The Warrior clan has rights other males do not. We have the right to marry whomever we choose in order to create children who will one day take their place in the Conclave.”

  “And the woman has no say in it at all?” She backed up a step or two.

  “None.” He shrugged wide, muscular shoulders. “But they have never complained. All female Fae wish to be with a warrior. We are strong, powerful . . .”

  “Humble?”

  “What is humble?”

  “Big surprise,” Maggie muttered, the
n spoke up louder. “So these women are just married to some guy for freaking ever, with no say in it at all?”

  “It is not forever, Maggie.” He chuckled, letting one long leg slide out in front of him lazily. “The marriage remains until the child has come of age—for a warrior, that is around one hundred years old—then the bond is dissolved and we are free to move on.”

  Maggie felt like thunking the heel of her hand against her head. He didn’t even realize what he was saying, did he? Joining had so little meaning in Otherworld. What about white weddings? Pretty dresses? Being together through thick and thin?

  Cake?

  “You move on?”

  “To be with others, if we so choose.” He smiled at her. “We cannot marry forever, Maggie. We are immortal.”

  She took a step toward the bed, half tempted to hit him with something, but she didn’t trust herself that close to him. The sexual energy he put out was damn near overwhelming. She couldn’t risk being pulled back in, so she stopped dead.

  “That’s not marriage, you jerk! Marriage is forever. Till you’re old and gray and fat and then you die!”

  He laughed again and damn it, the sound was sexy as hell. “We are Fae. We do not get old and fat. Though I would no doubt look good with gray hair. Shall I use a glamour to show you?”

  “No.” Maggie spun away from him, stumbled with her quilt toga wrapped around her and walked to the windows overlooking the palace gardens. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Then she thought about her sister and realized that Nora was probably married, too, and she was willing to bet that Quinn had never told her, either. Small consolation that both Donovan women had been had.

  Another thought popped into her brain and Maggie really wished she’d stop thinking already. Her head was killing her and nothing was getting better. She looked over her shoulder at the smug male still ensconced in her bed. “So, how many marriages have dissolved for you?”

  He frowned. “One.”

  Even though she’d been half expecting it, she felt her stomach sink. “You’ve been married. And you didn’t think you should tell me about that?”

  “It is over,” he said, shrugging again. She could really come to hate that movement.

  Might be over for him, but for her it was brand-new. “What was her name?”

  “Who?”

  “Your wife,” she said tightly, clinging desperately to the last-remaining threads of her temper.

  “Ah.” Culhane thought about that for a moment. “Leah? Lynnia?”

  “You don’t remember?” Maggie reached up, grabbed a handful of her own hair and yanked at it. Much more time around him and she would be bald. She just knew it. “How do you forget your wife’s name?”

  The scowl on his face deepened. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate being questioned. Well, too damn bad, she thought.

  “It was long ago. The marriage was dissolved several hundred years ago. I have not seen her since.”

  “And your child?”

  “A boy.” He smiled proudly. “He is in training at the Conclave.”

  “Do you remember his name?”

  “Devon.”

  Maggie groaned. “Of course it is.”

  This little circle of doom just kept spreading. No wonder Devon had had the same attitude as Culhane. He was the man’s son. And no wonder he was as devastat ingly attractive as Culhane. He came by it naturally.

  “You do know,” she told him flatly, “that your son has been sneaking around with Eileen.”

  His eyebrows winged up. Nope, he hadn’t known. “Sneaking?”

  “As in, not allowed, but doing it anyway?”

  “My son is honorable,” Culhane argued. “He would not harm the girl in any way.”

  “He shouldn’t be hanging around her at all,” Maggie countered.

  “He probably senses she is the one meant for him.”

  “She’s twelve!” Maggie was shouting now and it wasn’t making her feel any better.

  “And you were eleven when I first knew,” Culhane reminded her coolly. “I did nothing to harm you then. Devon will not harm Eileen now.”

  “He whisked her off to a beach in Inia! All by themselves. That’s just asking for trouble, Culhane,” Maggie told him.

  He frowned. “I will speak to him.”

  “Good.”

  He made it all sound so reasonable. That was his gift. Her curse. He spoke and the longer she listened, the more sense he seemed to make. Which made no sense at all when you stopped to think about it.

  This was really all his fault.

  Culhane.

  He’d brought Bezel to train her. He’d fought at her side. He’d married her without bothering to tell her. Brought her to Otherworld. Made sure she accepted her role as Queen.

  A giant freaking lightbulb went off in her mind and Maggie felt as though she had another epiphany headed her way. Slowly, she turned around to face him again.

  “I see what this is, you know. I finally get it. My eyes are wide open and you are so not fooling me.”

  He sighed patiently as if he were a man pushed to his limits. Poor baby.

  “What are you rambling about, Maggie?”

  “You. Your plans. Your schemes.” She moved away from the window and a bit closer to the bed.

  Oh God. Maggie’s heart was thumping in a wild beat and her stomach was churning. She couldn’t believe this. She’d just been starting to trust him completely. Just been thinking that he was the one stable point in her brand-new world.

  Now she knew she couldn’t trust him at all. Now she remembered completely all of the little things. How he would meet with his warriors in the throne room. How he made decisions about going into battle without telling her about it first. How he had been maneuvering her into stepping into her destiny because he’d needed her.

  “You used me to beat Mab. Used me to get to the power of the throne. Now you’ve married me, without even bothering to ask me and you want to make babies to ensure you’ll always have that tidy little inroad to the throne.” She threw one hand high and held on to her makeshift toga with the other. “That way, even when you ‘dissolve’ our marriage, you’ll still have our child to tie you to the palace.”

  All amusement fled from his features. His face went hard and cold and his eyes were pale green fire. “This is what you think of me?”

  He sprang from the bed and was at her side in an instant. His hands came down on her shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin. He forced her to look up at him, meet his eyes. When she did, Maggie had a moment’s pause. She’d never seen him look so fierce. So “otherworldly,” to make a pun she didn’t intend.

  His body bristled with pent-up fury as he stared down into her eyes. But Maggie’s own anger was more than a match for him. She yanked herself free of his grip and planted both hands on his chest and shoved. He hardly moved.

  “I give you the honor of joining with you and you accuse me of using you for deceitful purposes?”

  “You were deceitful!”

  He blew out a breath, waved one hand in the air and was instantly dressed in leather pants, a long-sleeved shirt and knee-high boots. His long, black hair hung free about his shoulders and his green eyes still burned with intensity.

  “I am an honorable Fae. I joined with you because I want you. I . . . care for you.”

  She snorted an inelegant laugh. “Try not to stumble on the hard words.”

  “You are unreasonable.”

  “And you’re a jerk.”

  “I will not stand here and be insulted like a common pixie.”

  “Hah!” Maggie shot back. “Don’t you insult Bezel! He doesn’t lie to me!”

  “I did not lie!” Culhane’s shout crashed through the room with the crack of thunder.

  Maggie lifted her chin, glared at the lover who’d lied to her, used her and worst of all, had made her love him. “Get out, Culhane. I don’t like you much right now.”

  “Oh, I will go, Maggie,” he
said quietly, and grabbed her again, pulling her tight against him. “But not before I leave you with one more thing to remember me by.”

  He kissed her.

  Hard and long and deep. He kissed her until she forgot how to breathe and didn’t care. He kissed her until every cell in her body was screaming for more.

  Then he shifted.

  And was gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I have done nothing wrong, Father.” Devon stood tall and proud before Culhane, his chin held high, his shoulders squared.

  “You should not be sneaking,” Culhane said, using Maggie’s word deliberately, “into the human world. You should not be seeing the Queen’s niece in secret.”

  He was still angry after his earlier confrontation with Maggie, and he feared his anger was finding an easy target in his son.

  For just an instant, Devon frowned; then his expression once again represented a stoic warrior in training. “I do not ‘sneak,’ Father. I am a warrior. Son of the Chieftain. I go to the mortal world to see her because Eileen is mine.”

  Culhane sighed. It was as he had thought. His son was laying claim to Eileen Donovan much as Culhane had with Maggie. Though he knew his Queen and Eileen’s mother would not be pleased by this news, his son was honorable and would never harm the girl. And yet, he felt he had to say, “She is but a child, Devon. Unused to our ways. Too young for the claiming.”

  Devon looked horrified and his stiff posture slipped a bit. “Father, I would not. I wish only to be with her. To protect her as is my right.”

  Culhane understood that feeling all too well. Hadn’t he himself been keeping watch over Maggie all her life? Yet, he could also understand Maggie’s concerns. It was a thin line he was now forced to maneuver. Standing up, Culhane walked toward his son, laid one hand on his shoulder and asked, “How did you come to find her?”

  Sheepishly, Devon admitted, “I followed you into the mortal world one day. You went to see our Queen at her home. I, too, wanted to see the future Queen. Then I saw Eileen there.” He smiled and shrugged. “I knew her for mine instantly.”

  As had Culhane at first sight of Maggie. Some things were fated and could not be avoided. His son would one day lay claim to Eileen Donovan, he knew. But that day was far in the future.