Warrior of the Isles

by Debbie Mazzuca

  Evangeline pursed her lips, a sure sign of her disapproval. “You’re a wonderful person, my lady. I should hope you don’t need to bribe your brother to gain his affection. If you do, his love is not worth having.”

  Syrena had the distinct impression her friend didn’t particularly care for her brother. “Thank you, that is sweet of you to say, but if there’s anything I can do to make this easier, I shall.” She tapped a finger against her cheek, smiling when an idea came to mind. “I know exactly what I need to put my plan into action, a bag of coin.”

  Evangeline arched a brow. “Coin, my lady?”

  She gave a decisive nod. “Yes, coin. Gold and silver coins are what they use in the Mortal realm. At least that’s what it said in my book. We must have some in the treasury.”

  “I would imagine so, but as you well know, you require the Queen’s permission to enter the vault.”

  “You’re right, although as I rule alongside the Queen, I shouldn’t.” At the look of consternation on Evangeline’s face, she sighed. “Yes, yes, I know it was only a ruse on her part and the guards will not let me in without her say-so. I can’t rightly go to her with my request, but your magick is very powerful, Evangeline, you must be able to get in and out without their knowledge.” Her handmaiden’s magick grew more powerful with each passing year and it was something Syrena wished to talk to her about, but now was not the time.

  “I can, but I would rather not. If I am caught, Morgana will banish me.”

  The thought of losing Evangeline terrified Syrena. She would be all alone. “You’re right, she would. There is no love lost between the two of you.” She studied her handmaiden. “Is there a reason for her animosity, something you haven’t told me?” It was a question she’d been meaning to ask since the confrontation with Morgana the day before.

  Evangeline’s expression shuttered. “Not that I am aware of, your highness. And if you mean for me to break into the treasury, I’d best do it now before the palace awakens.”

  She gave her handmaiden an impetuous hug. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Hours had passed since Syrena came through the standing stones. The sun, hidden as it was behind surly gray clouds, did little to warm her. She’d found the woods where she’d first met Aidan easily enough. But upon leaving the shelter of the pines, she could only guess at the direction he had taken her and hope she’d chosen the right one.

  As a way to pass the time as she trudged over the boggy ground, Syrena tried to come up with a plausible explanation for where she had been. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when the earth trembled beneath her feet. She looked up to see Aidan on his great black steed bearing down upon her, with Donald and Gavin bringing up the rear.

  With the wind blowing Aidan’s blue-black hair from his face, he was even more beautiful than she remembered. His mesmerizing eyes mirrored the relief she herself felt, until she remembered her brother’s proclamation. Her stomach churned and she worriedly searched his face. But there was no sign of anger upon his handsome visage when he looked at her. If anything, he appeared happy to see her. His mouth curved in a smile that set her heart aflutter.

  He didn’t know she was Fae—not yet.

  He leapt from his mount and came swiftly to her side, standing so close the heat from his powerful body enveloped her in warmth. Placing his fingers beneath her chin, he raised her face to search her eyes. “Are ye all right, lass? They did ye no harm?”

  She nodded. His gentle touch, the concern in his slate gray eyes, rendered her speechless.

  He raised his gaze from hers and scanned the woods at her back. “Where are they?” he asked.

  Syrena roused herself from his spell. Whom did he speak of? Afraid if she asked the question aloud she would give herself away, she decided to follow his lead as best she could. “I don’t know.”

  He frowned, then jerking his chin in the direction of the woods, he said to Donald and Gavin, “Have a look around.”

  “Do ye ken how many there were, Syrena? Did ye get a good look at them?” he asked after his companions took their leave.

  Tension banded her chest, making it difficult to breathe. “No,” she answered, her voice little more than a whisper. She chewed on her bottom lip, wishing she had the ability to read minds. His interrogation grew painful, and he appeared to grow frustrated with her. Remembering what her father’s response had been when she frustrated him, she took a wary step back.

  Emotion flared in his eyes, and he muttered something under his breath. He gathered her in his arms. “I’m sorry, lass, this can wait. All that matters is ye’re safe now.”

  The words rumbled deep in his chest soothed her fears and warmed her heart. She tipped her head back, unable to keep a smile from her lips. “You were worried about me?”

  “Aye.” He returned her smile, and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “We’ve been searchin’ fer ye ever since I found yer wee shoe.”

  Syrena sucked in an alarmed breath. As carefully as she could, without drawing his attention, she slid her foot from her slipper and tried to squish it into the soft, wet earth.

  “I’ll get it fer ye.” He released her and strode toward Fin, rummaging through his saddlebag.

  Syrena squeezed her eyes closed and murmured the words she prayed would make her slipper disappear. An odd sensation prickled from her foot to her knee, but she had no time to discover if her magick had been successful. Aidan stood before her, slipper in hand.

  He bent down on one knee and carefully lifted the hem of her gown. She scrambled for some explanation, but her mind went blank, panic scattering her thoughts.

  Aidan raised a quizzical brow.

  Syrena looked down to see she wore an oversized black boot. Oh, for the love of Fae. “I . . . I found it over there.” She pointed in the direction of the woods.

  He removed the boot and tossed it aside, holding her bare foot in the palm of his hand. Syrena grabbed hold of his broad shoulders to keep from falling over while he warmed her foot in his hand. He blew a heated breath across her icy cold skin and she gasped inwardly at the sensation. Warmth unfurled deep in her belly then spread to the core of her femininity. She curled her fingers into the soft fabric of his brown jacket, resisting the urge to run them through the dark waves on his bent head.

  He lifted his gaze, watching her as he slid her slipper onto her foot. He slowly came to his feet and, without a word, lifted her into his arms. Syrena clutched the back of his neck, inhaling his masculine scent, trying to understand the emotions he awakened in her. No one had ever made her feel as protected as he did, or aroused a desire for their touch. She shivered, afraid if she spent too much time with this man she’d leave a piece of her heart behind when she returned to the Enchanted Isles.

  Aidan settled her carefully on top of Fin, treating her as though she were a fragile piece of crystal. He swung into the saddle behind her, tugging her against his chest. She snuggled into him. He leaned over and pulled a blanket from his pack.

  She wrinkled her nose at the smell of damp wool and horses, but swallowed her complaint once Aidan had tucked her within its heavy warmth.

  At the sound of Donald and Gavin’s return, he twisted in the saddle. “Any sign of them?”

  “Nay, they’re long gone,” Donald said as he brought his horse alongside them. “How’s the lass?”

  Syrena was about to tell him she was fine, but then thought better of it. She didn’t have the answers to the questions that would surely follow. She wriggled deeper beneath the blanket.

  “As good as can be expected after what she’s been through.”

  “Ye doona think they—”

  “Nay,” Aidan said gruffly, tightening his hold on her. “Nay, but I’ll question her further once she’s rested.”

  “She’s verra lucky. Remember what happened to wee Tess? When the Lowlanders were through with the lass, she was never the same.”

  “Enough, Gavin. Ride on ahead and have Beth prepare a bat
h fer her.”

  Once she heard the horses ride off, Syrena pushed the gray wool from her head. “What happened to Tess?” At least she knew now they thought the Lowlanders had been involved in her disappearance. If she asked some pertinent questions, she hoped to come up with a believable response when Aidan interrogated her later.

  He curled a big hand around her neck and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “ ’Tis no’ somethin’ ye need to ken, Syrena. I’ll no’ let those bloody Lowlanders near ye again.”

  She nuzzled her cheek against the coarse fabric of his shirt, smoothing her palm over the muscular planes of his chest. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Yer thanks isna necessary. Ye’re under my protection until we find yer kin.”

  Unwilling to get caught in a lie, she decided to probe further. “Why did they take me?”

  He shrugged then looked down at her. “I suspect it was in retaliation for Lachlan’s raid. If ye hadna gotten away, they would’ve held ye fer ransom.”

  She plucked at the laces on his shirt, lowering her eyes from the intensity in his. “Would you have paid?”

  He tipped her chin, bringing her gaze back to his. “Aye, and if I didna have the coin they demanded, I would’ve found a way to steal ye back from them.”

  Considering the state of his home, she knew he did not have much coin. The thought he would use whatever he had to rescue her touched her heart. She wanted to show him the depth of her gratitude and decided to gift him with a portion of the coin she’d brought for Lachlan. She reached inside her gown, about to pull the black velvet bag from her bodice.

  Aidan frowned, pushing her hand aside. “Where is yer wound?” He traced his fingers along her chest.

  She tried to form some reasonable explanation, willing her brain to work, but desire, warm and liquid, coursed through her veins, leaving her thoughts scattered, and her body boneless.

  “Syrena?” The censure in his deep voice penetrated her muddled senses.

  “I don’t know,” she managed to say. “Perhaps the sun has colored my skin as it has yours. And the mark has simply—”

  “Nay.” He hooked a finger in the neckline of her gown and lowered it, exposing the tops of her breasts.

  “Aidan!” she gasped, but he ignored her.

  “Nay, ye’re the same milky white here where the sun’s rays do not reach.” His voice was low and husky, and he trailed a calloused finger over her heated flesh.

  She shivered, the look in his eyes searing her as deeply as his touch.

  Under the scrutiny of his gaze, she attempted an unconcerned shrug. “It must not have been as deep as it first appeared.”

  His hand stilled and he frowned, then he dipped his fingers between the valley of her breasts. “What is this?” he asked, removing the velvet bag. The coin clinked when he swung the pouch from the tips of his fingers. The disapproval in his tone robbed her of her good intentions.

  “It’s mine. You can’t have it.” She tried to retrieve the coin, but he held it out of her reach.

  He shifted her weight in his arms and opened the bag. His eyes widened. “Bloody hell, Syrena, who are ye?”

  Chapter 6

  “Enough,” Aidan grated out when Syrena struggled to adjust the front of her gown. Her rounded behind rubbed against his straining erection, causing the dull throb in his trews to rival the ache in his head. An ache caused by the discovery of enough coin to ransom a king.

  He rubbed his hand over his eyes in order to gain some semblance of control over his burgeoning lust for the woman in his arms. The sight of her full breasts when he lowered her gown, and the memory of how warm and satiny smooth she felt beneath his fingers, didn’t help.

  He lifted the bag and shook it in front of her bonny face. “Answer my question.”

  She stopped squirming and regarded him with a haughty look. “I told you who I am. My name is Syrena, and as yet I have no memory of my family. But what does that have to do with the coin?”

  “It would go a long way in tellin’ me who I’m dealin’ with, now wouldna it? Ye’re either a thief or the daughter of someone with incredible wealth, and from where I’m sittin’, either one will bring down their wrath on my clan. Now, which is it?”

  “Give it back. I’m no thief.” She lunged for the bag, but he jerked it high above her head. “The coin is mine, all treasure belongs to . . .” She scowled at him. Clamping her mouth shut, she crossed her arms over her heaving chest.

  “Where, Syrena? Where did ye come by the coin?”

  Her expression shuttered. She nibbled on her finger then pointed in the direction of the woods. “I found it with the boot. I was going to share it with you if only you’d given me a chance.”

  He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. He prayed she told the truth. He had no desire to battle the sheriff on her behalf, or a clan hell-bent on revenge. But looking down into her wide, innocent eyes and a face as bonny as an angel, he doubted she had it in her to lie.

  The heavy weight in the bag regained his attention, and he pushed aside the niggling of doubt that so much didn’t add up where she was concerned. In his hands lay the answer to his prayers. The coin would go a long way in putting the keep and his clan to rights.

  Fin pawed at the ground, snorting puffs of mist. “All right, boy, we’ll head fer home,” he said, giving the horse his lead. With one last look toward the wood, he asked her. “So, ye’re tellin’ me ye didna see whose boot ye wore or coin ye took?”

  She released an exasperated sigh and looked up at him, her topaz eyes flashing. “I’m not a thief. I told you I planned on giving you the coin, but if you don’t want it, give it back to me.”

  He bit back a grin. “Ye were, were ye? And why might that be?”

  Her long lashes fanned cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “Because . . . because you offered me your protection and you need it more than I do.”

  “Aye, that’d be the truth, but I’ll have no part of ill-gotten goods. Ye must swear to me, Syrena, ye didna steal the coin.”

  She glared at him. “Why won’t you listen to me? I told you, I didn’t steal it. The coin is mine.”

  The angry rise and fall of her chest captured his attention and he battled an overwhelming urge to touch her. Unable to resist the temptation, using the coin as an excuse, he balanced the weight of the bag in his hand and then, taking his time, tucked the black velvet between the valley of her breasts. His finger’s brushed her full heated curves, the satiny softness of her skin.

  At her startled intake of breath, he slowly withdrew his hand. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably beneath her. “’Tis as good a place as any to hide the coin. It would be best if we tell no one of our good fortune, at least fer now.”

  She sat stiffly in his lap. “Syrena?” He waited until she met his eyes. “Thank ye fer sharin’ yer coin with me.”

  Her gaze searched his, and then she smiled. “You’re welcome. And thank you for your offer of protection.”

  His hard-won defenses were useless against her.

  Achingly sweet and gentle, the lass drew him to her like no other. And now, she gifted him with gold and silver beyond his wildest imaginings. He wrapped her in the blanket and brought Syrena against his chest, brushing the top of her silky head with his lips. “I promise ye, Syrena, I’ll let no one harm ye.”

  She snuggled close. “I know.”

  This time, upon their arrival at the keep, Syrena required only a slight nudge to come fully awake. The courtyard was crowded with his men. Gavin stepped forward to take Fin’s reins while Aidan dismounted. He reached for Syrena, frowning when he noted the fearful expression that shadowed her delicate features. He glanced over his shoulder to see what had prompted her reaction, only to meet his brother’s angry gaze full on.

  Lifting her from Fin, Aidan tucked her to his side. Noting the tremble that shook her slight frame, he glared at Lachlan. “Ye’re scarin’ the lass with yer fierce looks, brother. What is the matter with ye?” From th
e corner of his eye, he noted his men take their leave, obviously not eager to get in the middle of one of his and Lan’s all too frequent battles.

  “Nothin’,” his brother snarled, then turned and stomped toward the keep.

  Aidan wearily shook his head, too tired to wonder at Lachlan’s reaction to the lass. He’d spent the better part of the day and night searching for Syrena, and he wanted nothing more than a tankard of ale and the comfort of his bed.

  “I’d like to check on my deer if you don’t mind.”

  Before he had a chance to respond, she’d pivoted on her heel and headed in the direction of the stables.

  Gavin caught his eye. “Lan doesna’ appear to like the lass overmuch. I never saw him be anythin’ but charmin’ to the lassies, especially one as bonny as Lady Syrena.” He shrugged, about to lead Fin to the stables.

  “Nay, I’ll take him.” Aidan retrieved the reins from Gavin. “Mayhap ye and Donald can see what ails the lad,” he suggested. At times like these he felt the loss of his father’s men-at-arms, Torquil and Dougal. They had been a steadying influence on Lan. Their deaths two years past had been a devastating blow to the both of them.

  “Are ye goin’ to the lass?”

  “Aye, I need to ken if my brother was the cause of her leavin’ the stables before the Lowlanders got a hold of her.”

  “Did she say any more about her capture?”

  “Nay, and I didna want to upset her.”

  “I’m sure ye didna. Ye looked mighty cozy when ye rode in.” Gavin grinned, whistling as he went on his way.

  Aidan scowled after his friend. The man had only one thing on his mind, and Aidan didn’t need reminding of what that one thing was. He was doing his best not to think about it.

  When he entered the stables, Syrena looked up from where she sat on a bed of hay beside her pet. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and he cursed his brother. The animal, as though sensing her distress, licked her hand. Aidan hesitated before breaking the strained silence. “The wee beastie appears glad to see ye.”