by Claudy Conn
Devil’s advocate, was it? Well, I will send him to hell, by Danu, and watch him writhe! The prince was in a cold fury and meant to run Gaiscioch to ground, but he wanted to do so with finesse. He closed his eyes and drew on his inner calm. He replaced his human clothing with his Dagda tartan.
The time was now for the royal sword of Dagda. It was a Hallow, and it could kill Fae. Very few of these weapons existed, and he kept his well spelled and hidden. In order to kill the traitor Fae, he had to first present the Council with proof of Gais’s treacherous behavior. What he wanted was to force him into a confession. His sword gleamed in his hand. He slipped it into his back shoulder sheath. There was none that could take it from him. It was Dagda.
He paced before the double doors, and when they opened Ete came floating out and towards him. Whenever he saw her he was struck not only by her beauty, but by the loveliness of her character. He thought of her often and when he least expected it.
He thought of her as a precious, exquisite, wee thing for a Fae.
His eyes roamed over her auburn curls piled high on her head, falling in dangling waves around her ears and heart-shaped face. Her gown of iridescent hues clung to her provocative figure. Her eyes glinted at him and drew a smile in spite of his mood.
Her hand was outstretched for his. He didn’t think as he reached to meet her touch and took her hand to his lips. “Ete?”
“The meeting has ended, but they are at refreshments. I knew you were out here, and I came to stop you …”
It was traditional amongst the high Council members to spend a few moments in quiet pleasantries over refreshments after their meetings. Such tradition maintained alliances and soothed dissenters.
Ete had the ability to draw a smile from Breslyn no matter his mood, and he wondered why he had never noticed that before. “You are finely tuned if you sensed me, Ete—I am always disguised, even in Tir.” He found himself lingering over her exotic little fingers.
“Yes, but you forget—queen’s bloodline here …” she teased. “I enjoy exceptional and unique abilities.” She gave him a flirtatious look as she lowered her dark lashes to her cheek. “You are giving off a great deal of restrained fury … and I felt it. Besides the queen has been expecting you and asked me to be, how do your humans say it, ah yes, on the lookout for you.”
“Fury is hardly the word I would use. Murderous would be more like it,” he answered between gritted teeth. “I know who our traitor is … how he lies, pretends to be the queen’s oldest friend.”
“Yes, it repulses me to think I had to smile, and pretend interest in him.” Her voice held disgust.
She had succeeded in flabbergasting him into spluttering, “You know … you know that it is Gaiscioch?”
“Yes … I have suspected for some time.” She smiled at him. “You see … I am new to the Council. I don’t have preconceived notions of what members should or shouldn’t be. Almost at once I decided that Gaiscioch was no friend to the queen. Whatever friendship he had for her once has turned into deep-seated hatred. He would bring her low at almost any cost. I have always felt this.”
“The queen?”
“She knew of my suspicions but could not immediately agree with me. However, when he materialized in her chambers, even shrouded as he was with human clothing … when you both were there, she got the sense of him …”
“And she did not tell me?” For a moment, he was turned to stone. His pride was pinked. He was the queen’s most loyal prince, yet she had not found a moment to trust him with this information.
“Our queen was afraid of your reaction. Witness your temper now. She did not want you to charge after him in full regalia and run him through. She needs proof to bring to the Council so that she may imprison him.”
“Imprison him? Ete … he needs to die! And I am the Fae to make sure that he does.”
“No, the Council would condemn his antics thus far if we can put it at his door, but his crimes do not require the penalty of death. We cannot prove that he has killed a human, although we know it was he who poisoned Conall.” Ete shook her head. “No one wants his death more than the queen does.”
The prince was enraged and felt impotent. He had surmised as much only moments before, but to hear this voiced by another added fuel to his irritation. “Yes, at that time, Gais was no doubt moved by jealousy. Conall saw him leave, but it was too late, and we have no way to prove it. Conall must have known, as he was dying …” He shook his head. “Jealousy … to risk all?”
“The queen says that Gais took it hard when she rebuffed him. They had been lovers, you see, for a time, and for many years after that she had been fond enough of him. Then she met Conall. Gais couldn’t bear to be set aside for a human. It was more than jealousy that moved him. It was outrage. He was disgusted that the queen had chosen a human over him.” Ete shrugged. “His sense of values is vile.”
“Aye, and he is working to break the Treaty. He wants to bring down the walls between Fae and Man. He strives against everything the queen and the Council stand for.”
“Yes, I know, but you cannot impose the ultimate penalty without the ultimate act, and, my Prince, I know you want to confront him. I would love to see you go in there and bring him down. However, confronting him at this moment will not serve. We have no viable proof!” She shook her pretty head. “The Council will be adamant about their need for proof. We must show more than circumstantial evidence.”
He knew that. What was still in his brain was that Ete was aware of so much. She was so young and yet so very capable. He gave her uncompromising look. “You suspected … and did not tell me?” His eyes narrowed. “So that is why you were flirting with him that day I saw you two together?”
“Yes. I needed to get a reading off him. You know that my bloodline enables me some unusual abilities.” She reached up and flicked his nose. “Do not look at me like that. I am talking about other than sexual magic.” Now her eyes openly flirted with him.
He felt alarmingly aroused. “Easy there, pretty Ete.” He took her hand and brought it to his bent head and gave it a lingering kiss. “I want to know everything you and the queen know about Gaiscioch.”
“Yes, come with me … let us go to the gardens where we will not be observed … and, my Prince, you will tell me what you have encountered, for I can sense that you have much to report.”
“Do I, little Ete, and what now … am I to report to a fledgling?”
“No, to a friend and co-conspirator who will always have your back.” Again those dark lashes dipped and lifted just enough to hold his full attention.
He shook the sensation off. She was a baby. He would not seduce the uninitiated, especially one as sweet and dear as Ete. He would not break her heart. He could see she wanted forever. He knew that in fact was what she needed. Oh, no! No! No! He was not getting trapped in a forever relationship with a Fae. By Danu he had seen enough to know better. He meant to have his Lia and live with her for as long as they both willed. He would care for her fragile mortal life …
* * *
Maxie felt Lamia DuLaine’s presence with a start that made her feel like a bolt of lightning had just struck across the room. She jumped out of Julian’s arms and was on her feet, ready to fight. A scream was stuck in her throat, but she managed to squeal, “She was here … Jules … here … this room … with us … she was here!”
“She?” Julian saw the answer in her eyes. “Lamia? You mean Lamia?”
“DuLaine was probing … looking for you, and she found me. I haven’t perfected my shield yet.” Maxie realized that she was wringing her fingers. She steadied herself. “Julian, the wards let her in. I felt them part for her. The wards let her in.” She was beside herself and in a panic. “I felt the wards actually split open to accommodate her probing. Julian, when I felt her, I shut her out—it wasn’t the wards.” She shook her head. “How is that possible? I thought the wards would keep her magic out of MacTalbot.” She wagged a finger at nothing in particular. “Bu
t the wards didn’t do it. I did!” Her hands were now on her hips.
“Easy, love. The wards were only doing what the prince and I required of them. We wanted her to get one glimpse of me and only when I was in my bedroom, just to egg her on. We hadn’t banked, however, on her getting a glimpse of you as well. We didn’t realize when we enacted the wards that you and I would be in my bedroom together.” Julian was frowning now, irritated with this new glitch in his plan. “However, she will never get another look …”
Maxie witnessed the consternation on his face and got back under the covers to hug him to her. They leaned against their numerous pillows, which rested against the Gothic bedpost. Maxie pulled all the covers around them. “How wonderful—she doesn’t get another look!” She pulled a face at him. “She doesn’t need another look, does she? One look was enough to tell her that I am a Maxine look-alike.”
He pulled her back into his arms and held her tight, stroking her head, kissing it, bending to kiss her forehead, nose, lips, and it was working. She felt calmer. He quietly whispered her name, “Maxie love, we are going to beat her. Do you believe me?”
Maxie nodded, but this had been a shock, and she didn’t want to say anything more until she thought it out. Julian tipped her chin up. “My love, my heart, please don’t fret. We programmed the wards to allow her one viewing on purpose. We have a reason, believe me. That was how the wards were put into motion. We wanted her to see me—find me when I was in the privacy of my bedroom and then close her down.” There was a great deal of feeling in his voice, and he squeezed Maxie tight. “We want her to become frenzied, erratic, and agitated. The more agitated she becomes, the less control she will have. The more frantic, the less clear-sighted she will be.”
“And I am supposed to clap and yell yippee?” She shook her head. “Julian … this DuLaine is so beyond anything evil I have ever imagined. She is dark and devoid inside of all but the basest emotions. There is nothing about her that empathizes with anyone. I felt her aura when she probed. Her world consists of her needs. She is a sociopath, and what is even worse—she is a sociopath with Dark Magic at her disposal. She is way over being able to control herself. She wants, she needs, and she hungers. I felt all of that inside her.”
“Did she know you?” Julian was somber.
“Yes … maybe, I don’t know. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a read on that before I shut her down.” She sighed. “However, it means I am getting better at working my shield.”
He kissed Maxie’s nose.
She accused with her eyes. “That is your answer? You kiss my nose?”
He laughed and kissed her ear. He was nibbling down her lovely neck. He was back to her nose …
She kissed his hard, sexy, dark-shadowed chin. She kissed his ear, his nose, and she giggled. This is simply ridiculous. What am I doing? We’ve got problems.
Okay. Problems would have to wait. She had to taste him again. He was touching her breasts, flipping her nipples between his fingers, making her insane and savage and wanting. His hard rippled body was pressing against her—she was reaching down for his cock, stroking it. She knew only one thing … he was there with her. For the moment, that was all that mattered.
DuLaine? she asked herself. What about DuLaine? They were in deep shit with the DuLaine just a few miles away plotting against them. But for now … they were together.
DuLaine needed killing, but killing the DuLaine would not be an easy thing to do. Julian had told her earlier that they needed a special weapon. They needed the Pontivey Dagger. It had been promised to them, but they still didn’t have it in their hands. Once this mysterious weapon was in their possession they would have to get close enough to her to use it. Her power could keep them at bay. Complicated. It would take planning, and that was for later. Now … there was only one thing both of them wanted—each other.
Julian’s hands worked her into uninhibited desire. She felt like a nympho for his touch. His insistent movements were making shivers rush through the honeyed cleavage between her thighs, ready for the crescendo to vibrate her entire being. He was saying her name over and over. He was licking her belly, and his eyes had dangerous shimmers in their depths. “Have you forgiven me yet, my love?” His finger stroked the sensitive lips beneath his hand as she arched into the feeling and pressed hard against him.
She heard her voice, but it sounded like a stranger’s it was so rich with desire. “I will forgive you if you give me some more convincing …”
He turned her away from him with a sudden motion and lifted her up and set her into position so that her hands and knees were on the mattress. He had his large, hard rod pressed against her butt as he leaned over and around to fondle her breasts, and his voice came raw and with the hint of a deep-seated, ancient magic—love. “So I shall woman … so I shall.”
~ Twenty-three ~
He told himself that he was a royal Fae prince. Spying was not one of his official duties. However, it was proving useful. Somehow he found a moment, and in spite of the orb’s addictive side effects, he thought it safe to request it for one more showing.
He asked to view Shamon Moore’s offices. Fae as a rule, didn’t have hunches, but the prince’s years of interacting with humans had rewarded him with this quality. He saw Mary Newton arriving early.
He listened in on her morning conversation with various co-workers. He watched her as she arranged the daily pastries and flitted about. People were trolling through the hallways as they came in and woke themselves up. She looked over her shoulder as she moved towards Shamon Moore’s secretary’s desk. No one there, yet. She sidled over to the older woman’s desk and riffled through the papers.
What an awful morning she had the other day when she bumped into Lamia DuLaine going into Shamon’s office. That had been a disaster. In fact, she was sure the polished beauty had spoken ill of her to Shamon. She couldn’t have the Lady DuLaine against her. DuLaine was one of the firm’s wealthiest clients. Mary wanted to make junior partner.
Mary knew that Shamon had taken Lady DuLaine to Inverness. She had found that fact more than interesting. Shamon and the Lady DuLaine, she decided, must be lovers. Was DuLaine also a friend of Lord Talbot? Mary thought they must be. Money usually traveled with money.
If only she could wangle an invitation to his lordship’s estate again. There was still the problem of his London townhouse. She could make up something about the architect needing some information. Indeed, the builder had been asking her just the other day if any decision about his plans had been made. After all, he had said, his estimates could only stand so long. She thought this a very legitimate problem.
One phone call could serve—at the very least it would confirm what she already suspected and perhaps could one day use to her advantage?
She looked up the hotel number where Shamon Moore was staying and immediately dialed. A moment later she was being put through to his room.
Breslyn viewed Lamia in her suite and Mary in the office. The phone rang right beside Lamia’s bed, and with some exasperation she picked it up and in a low, irritated voice said, “Yes?”
“Oh, I am sorry … I hope I didn’t wake you. This is Mary Newton from Mr. Moore’s office. I must have been given the wrong number. I had asked the operator to ring Mr. Moore’s room.” Mary’s voice was flustered.
Watching this piece of acting made Breslyn smile to himself. The lass was good.
Lamia sat up. It was morning. She didn’t do mornings. She was really annoyed. Whatever did this chit want from Shamon? She wanted to know why this woman dared call her Shamon. He had said he was not expecting his office to call. He had said he would put in a call to his secretary every day and monitor business in that manner. How dare this chit have the effrontery to call Shamon at his hotel room? Shamon was hers alone. “This is his room … our room.” Lamia’s voice was hard and implacable.
Mary Newton’s face on the other side of the phone visibly blanched. “Yes, of course. What was I thinking? Please fo
rgive the intrusion.” Had she gone too far?
“Wait—you called … you must need something?” Lamia fished. She would find out just what this woman was up to.
“Yes … I have some questions—documents actually that need his attention.”
“Really? And they need his attention right now?” Lamia didn’t believe her. She attempted to probe but found a wall up against her. Ah, the phone. Her probing couldn’t work through modern technology. Too much electrical interference?
“It doesn’t matter. It can wait.” Mary Newton wanted off the phone.
“Of course it matters. You called … so it matters. Why else would you bother him whilst he is on holiday?” Lamia thought a moment, and her amber eyes narrowed into slits. “I have the solution, Ms. Newton. Just the thing. Take one of those awful airplanes and join us here. You can have dinner with us and discuss all those things you need done. Indeed, come at once. You can fly home the next day.” Ah yes, Lamia cooed to herself. She was going to have this one. She was going to use her body, assuage her lust, and then bleed her dry and be done with the annoying little pretty!
“Come up there … with you and Mr. Moore?” Mary was shocked. One minute she was on the receiving end of blistering ice shafts directed right at her heart, and now an invitation to join them in Inverness? What should she do?
“Indeed. Why not? We are going to be here for some days yet—so you might as well.”
“Yes, I see …” Mary thought for a moment. Lady DuLaine really sounded as though she wanted her to come up. Mr. Moore always was kind to her. It might prove to be just the thing. “If you are sure I won’t be in the way?”
“No, not at all. It will be a welcome diversion for an evening.” Lamia spoke softly into the phone. “In fact I am quite looking forward to your company. Indeed, get your papers together and come up at once.”
