Warrior of the Isles

by Debbie Mazzuca

  She offered him a woebegone smile and nodded, then went back to stroking her pet without saying a word.

  He clenched Fin’s reins in his fist and walked him into the stall behind Syrena. Unable to keep his gaze from her bent head and her long, golden locks, he jerked the saddle from his mount and tossed it over the wooden slats. Resting a boot on the lower rung, he leaned over the rail. “Ye ken, Syrena, my brother’s foul temper has naught to do with ye.”

  She glanced up at him with a hopeful light in her eyes. “No?”

  “Nay,” he managed to say despite the sharp stab of jealousy that his brother’s opinion mattered so much to her. He shoved off the wall. Latching the door to Fin’s stall, he came around and lowered himself to the ground beside her. He petted the doe’s downy soft head, biding his time. But no matter how much he wished to put it off, he couldn’t. He needed an answer to his question.

  “Syrena, did somethin’ go on between my brother and ye the other day?”

  Her fingers stilled. She kept her eyes focused on her pet. “What . . . what do you mean?”

  “ ’Tis a simple enough question.” Yet he had a hard time asking it. “Did ye . . . did he . . . ?”

  Her eyes flew to his. “No . . . no, how could you think such a thing?”

  Relief thrummed through his body at her response. “Ye didna let me finish. I—”

  “I didn’t have to. I could see it in your eyes. You thought he and I . . . well that . . .” Her dainty hands fluttered in front of her and she wrinkled her turned-up nose in what looked to be disgust. “I wouldn’t do that. He’s . . . well, I couldn’t do that.”

  “So, is it just my brother ye would no’ kiss?”

  “I do not go around kissing men, Lord MacLeod, if that’s what you are implying. I’m not that sort of woman,” she said tightly.

  He brushed a soft curl from the curve of her heated cheek. “’Tis no’ what I meant. I ken what kind of woman ye are, lass.”

  “What . . . what do you mean?” she stammered, raising amber eyes flecked with gold to his.

  Cupping her chin in his hands, he rubbed his thumb over her full bottom lip. “I mean ye’re innocent. No man has ever kissed ye, have they?”

  “No,” she whispered, her lips slightly parted.

  “ ’Tis a shame that. Ye have a bonny mouth, ripe fer kissin’.” Desire overrode caution, and he lowered his head to claim her. He only meant for it to be one brief kiss, but the moment he touched her soft, pliant lips, he was lost. Sliding his lips in a slow, sensuous motion, back and forth over hers, the gentle friction stoked the flame of his passion. His heart pounded at her tentative response and it took all the control he could muster to take it slow.

  She leaned into him, her lips parted, and he deepened the kiss, touching his tongue to hers, tasting her honeyed sweetness. The kiss grew hotter, wetter, and he had to cup her face with both his hands to stop himself from stroking her milky white breasts pressed to his chest.

  A soft mewling sound from low in her throat caused him to groan in frustration. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let it go any further. He’d gone far enough. Innocent, she’s innocent and wealthy, Aidan reminded himself. A combination that would have his neck in the proverbial noose if he wasn’t careful. An irate father would have just cause in demanding he wed her. And no matter how attracted he was, no woman was worth the trouble, the pain. He brought his hands to her shoulders and gently broke their connection.

  She blinked, a look of bemusement in her topaz eyes. He pressed his lips to her smooth forehead. “Thank ye fer allowin’ me the honor of yer first kiss.” He tried to keep his voice light, but it was no use. It came out in a strangled rasp, but it was enough to keep him from saying the words he wanted to say. That she was his and his alone, that no other would kiss that rosebud mouth, swollen and slick from the fervor of his kiss. He didn’t know what he damned most at that moment, his mother and Davina’s betrayal, or his deepseated sense of honor.

  He set her aside and came to his feet. He held out his hand. “Come, yer bath will have cooled. Beth will have to prepare ye another.”

  She cast him a troubled look then shook her head. “No, I think it best if I remain here.”

  “Are ye plannin’ on beddin’ down with yer pet, then?”

  She nodded, appearing as unhappy with the idea as he was.

  He crouched beside her. “Did I frighten ye with my kiss, is that what this is about?”

  She looked at him as though he were daft. “No, of course not.”

  Growing frustrated now, he said, “Then ye’d best explain to me what the trouble is.”

  “M . . . your brother doesn’t want me here.”

  “ ’Tis no’ the lad’s decision, ’tis mine. Besides, I’ve told ye his temper has no’ to do with ye.” Seeing the doubt in her eyes, he tried to reassure her, “Lachlan’s day of birth is almost upon us. Somethin’ happened a long time ago that he, both of us fer that matter, havena gotten past. No matter how much we’d like to think we have. So ye see, ’tis no’ ye, but the memories that have him in a temper. ’Twill pass, I promise ye. Now come, I’m weary and in need of some ale. And ye’re in need of a soft place to lay yer head.”

  “A soft bed,” she murmured in a wistful voice. “And warm, it is warm, isn’t it?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. “Aye, a soft, warm bed.” He looked down at her beautiful face, her luscious curves, and thought how he’d like to be the one to keep her warm.

  After a quick hug to her doe, she rose to her feet. He reached out a hand to steady her. She narrowed her gaze on him. “It doesn’t have holes in the wall like your hall, does it?”

  “Nay, and with the coin I’ll right that soon enough. Mayhap ’twould be best if ye give me the treasure, Syrena, and I’ll put it away fer safekeepin’.” Resisting the urge to retrieve the bag himself, he watched as she dipped her hand into her bodice and handed him the bag still warm from the heat of her flesh.

  He took the coin, frowning at her outstretched hand. “Ye want it back?”

  “No, but I said I’d share it with you, not give you all of it.”

  He arched a brow. “If I remember correctly, ye said ye had no need of the coin.”

  “Well, I do.” She wiggled her fingers.

  Aidan figured he could hardly begrudge her a few coins since he’d have none if not for her. He untied the bag and dug inside, lining her palm in silver and gold.

  “Thank you,” she said, closing her fingers over the coin, a wide smile curving her lips.

  “Do ye mind tellin’ me what ye plan on doin’ with yer share?” he asked as they left the barn.

  “It’s a present for Lachlan’s day of birth.” Her hand tightened into a fist, and she glanced at him through a fan of long lashes.

  He groaned. “Nay, lass, ’tis too much. The lad will use it to . . . ’Tis no’ a good idea is all.”

  “But it’s what I want to do. It will make him happy and then he won’t . . .” She shrugged. “I just want to make him happy.”

  Even though he knew what his brother would do with the coin, Aidan couldn’t disillusion her. He sensed she meant to win his brother’s friendship. Why it was so important to her, he’d yet to discover, but it was, and at that moment it was all that mattered. As sweet as Syrena was, Aidan imagined she was unused to being on the receiving end of someone’s anger.

  “Ye give him yer gift, angel, and I’m certain ye’ll have gained a friend fer life.”

  “Do you really think so?” she asked hopefully.

  He entwined his fingers with hers. “Aye, I do.”

  Syrena awoke to the sound of Beth clomping along the hall outside her chambers and pulled the blankets over her head, even though she knew it wouldn’t do her any good. Despite spending several days at Lewes, she’d been unable to break the woman’s annoying habit of dragging her from her bed in the early morning hours.

  The heavy door creaked open and Syrena heard Beth chuckle. “Och, ye ken it will
do ye no good hidin’ on me.” Beth clicked her tongue. “Never did I see a body require as much sleep as ye do, my lady. Come now, we have much to do on account of the gatherin’ bein’ this day.”

  Syrena groaned, lowering the blanket. “Don’t tell me you want me to help in the kitchens again.”

  “Och, nay. The laird left strict orders no’ to let ye anywhere near them.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s not as though I set the kitchen ablaze, only the cakes.”

  “Aye, but we didna ken that until the smoke cleared.”

  Her cheeks heated. In her panic, she’d used her magick to put out the burning cakes and instead filled the room with thick, billowing black smoke.

  “Ye were quite the sight covered from head to toe in soot. I doona ken when I’ve seen the laird laugh so hard.”

  Oh yes, Aidan had found her very funny indeed. Despite herself, Syrena smiled at the memory and a happy glow enveloped her. But her smile faded, if she wasn’t careful, the warm glow of contentment would grow into something more, if it hadn’t already.

  From the moment she met Aidan, she’d responded to him in a way she’d never responded to another. She touched her lips at the memory of his kiss. Although they hadn’t shared another since that day in the barn, she could still feel his firm mouth pressed to hers. At first gentle and then more demanding, awakening in her a desire so strong it seared her to her very soul.

  He spoke the truth when he said she was innocent, untouched, but that didn’t mean she was ignorant of the ways between a man and a woman. The Fae were sensual beings, carrying on freely, no matter who their audience was. She shuddered, remembering Lord Bana’s aggressive attempt to initiate her in sexual play, groping hands, and slobbering lips she barely managed to escape.

  The memory of her first kiss would be one she cherished, but she knew it was because of the man she shared it with. Certain no other would make her feel as Aidan did.

  She pushed aside a heavy sense of regret. They had no future. She belonged in the Fae realm. And if Lachlan told the truth, if ever Aidan learned who she was, he would want nothing to do with her. Worse, he would despise her.

  “Are ye all right, my lady? Ye’ve lost all the color in yer wee face,” Beth said, her brow furrowed in concern.

  Pushing the troubling thoughts aside, Syrena flipped back the covers and came to her feet. “Yes, I’m fine. Now, what can I do to help?”

  Angling her head to study her, Beth said, “Ye ken, my lady, no’ many of yer station would do as ye’ve done fer us. Ye should ken the lasses and I are verra grateful fer all yer help.”

  “Even after the mess I made of the kitchens?” she asked in an attempt to lighten the moment. Afraid if she didn’t, Beth would see how much her kind words meant to her.

  “Aye.” The woman chuckled then her expression grew serious. “Ye’ve made a difference, Lady Syrena, no’ only fer us but fer Laird Aidan. It may be bold of me to say so, but ’tis our hope ye will remain here at Lewes, that ye and our laird will—”

  “Listen to that, Beth. It sounds as if the men are already at work below,” she cut off the older woman abruptly and hurried over to the window. Turning her back, she gripped the sill and tried to gather control of her emotions. She cleared her throat. “It looks as though they’re moving out the tables. You should probably go and be certain they don’t damage them. You know how careless men can be.”

  “Aye, I do, my lady. I found a gown fer ye to wear to the gatherin’. I’ll bring it by later,” Beth said quietly and patted Syrena’s shoulder before she left the room.

  Syrena wiped the moisture from her eyes. No matter what Beth said, there was no place for Aidan in her life. And it didn’t matter how much she wished there were.

  She blew out a resigned sigh and began to dress in the ugly brown gown Beth had brought to her after she’d ruined her own the day before. They had much to do to prepare for the gathering, for Lachlan’s day of birth celebration. Syrena held out hope that somehow her gift would turn the tide in their relationship. Her time spent in Lewes certainly hadn’t. Lachlan had avoided her at every turn, but today, today she somehow had to convince him he belonged with her in the Enchanted Isles. She just wouldn’t think of the pain she would cause Aidan by taking him. But the thought that the two men did little more than fight alleviated some of her guilt.

  Striding toward the heavy oak door, she came to an abrupt halt. Shaking her head at her absentmindedness, she returned to retrieve the coins from beneath her pillow. She folded her gift in a dull white handkerchief and tucked the treasure into the front of her bodice.

  Walking along the dingy corridor, she batted at a silken web that floated above her head. Unable to contain her squeak of dismay when a black creature with long legs landed on the tip of her nose, she slapped it away, managing to throw herself off-kilter. The sole of her threadbare shoe slid on the top step and she lunged for the wooden banister, releasing a relieved breath when she managed to regain her balance.

  She started down the long staircase, keeping a firm grip on the banister. Once her rattled nerves had calmed, she became aware of the low timbre of male voices coming from the hall. Her body responded instantly to Aidan’s deep baritone—calling orders to his men in his thick, delicious brogue—a quickening of her pulse, a frisson of excitement racing along her spine.

  She took a steadying breath and stiffened her resolve, vowing not to react to him. And then she saw him coming through the doors of the hall. Bare-chested, he carried a long trestle table with the help of another man. She couldn’t take her eyes from him, mesmerized by the power and beauty of his glistening, sun-bronzed warrior’s body, the bulging muscles in his arms and chest as they rippled and flexed. Clamping a hand over her mouth to contain a groan, she dug her fingers into the banister.

  As he drew near the bottom of the staircase, she tried to tear her eyes away, afraid he would recognize the emotions thrumming through her. Just as she was about to lower her gaze, he raised his.

  Their eyes met. An instant awareness crackled between them, and then Aidan cursed. Startled, she jumped. He dropped his end of the table and took a step forward, a hand raised in warning.

  “Syrena, move away from the—”

  An ominous groan filled the air.

  Chapter 7

  The banister broke free of its moorings, dragging Syrena along with it. Her strangled cry was drowned out by his men shouting directions. “Quiet,” Aidan yelled and ran to position himself beneath her. He held up his arms. “Jump, lass, I’ll catch ye.”

  She clung to the wood, hanging high above him, her eyes wide with alarm.

  “Let go, angel. Do it now,” he commanded in a voice that revealed none of his desperate concern. “Trust me.”

  With a jerky nod, she squeezed her eyes closed, then let go. She landed with a whoosh in his arms. Crushing her to his chest, he stumbled backward just as a horrendous crash rattled the keep. A cloud of dust billowed around the rotted timber that lay on the floor, inches from his feet.

  He drew in a shuddered breath, managing a smile for the trembling bundle in his arms. “Ye’re wee, but ye’re no lightweight,” he said, in an attempt to make light of what had happened.

  Stepping away from the fallen timber, he tried not to think what would have become of her had she not trusted him enough to let go. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned ye about that,” he said, angling his chin in the direction of the stairs. Like everything else in the bloody keep, the timber had shown signs of wear, he just hadn’t had the time or coin to do anything about it.

  She shook her head. Her long silken tresses tickled his bare chest, causing his taut muscles to twitch in response. “No, I should have realized it was unstable.” Uncurling her fist, she smoothed her palm over his heated flesh. The pads of her fingers moved in a slow rhythmic motion, up and down, up and down, as though she comforted herself.

  “Good catch.” Gavin chuckled, drawing Aidan’s attention from the havoc she wreaked on his overl
y responsive body. Several of the men came forward to inspect the damage before getting back to the job at hand. Wood scraped over the slate as they dragged the tables across the floor.

  He looked down at Syrena and glanced pointedly at her hand. “I think it best ye stop, lass. We have an audience and I canna be held accountable fer my actions if ye doona.”

  “Oh,” she gasped, jerking her hand away. As she peeked at him from beneath her lashes, her cheeks pinked.

  He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m teasin’. Steady now,” he said as he set her on her feet and she swayed against him. Her gown slid down her arm to reveal the delicate slope of her shoulder and enough of her breast to cause him to harden in his trews.

  “I think Beth might have found ye somethin’ more suitable to wear.” The cool calm of his voice belied his heated awareness of her. His fingers trailed over her satiny smooth skin as he drew the gown into place. Holding the excess fabric in his hand, he reached back and pulled the leather thong from his hair. “Turn around,” he said, his voice gruff.

  She cast him an uncertain look then complied with his demand. Hair the color of burnished gold slid through his fingers as he moved the heavy tangle of curls aside. He inhaled deeply, determined not to give in to the desire to press his lips to the creamy skin at the nape of her neck. Afraid he’d be unable to stop at just a kiss. With unsteady fingers, he wrapped the piece of leather around the coarse fabric and tied it in place. She glanced warily over her shoulder.

  He lifted a brow. “Better?”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded. “Much. Thank you, and thank you for saving me, Aidan. Again.”

  “Ye’re welcome.” He drew his attention from her and kicked at the wooden remains on the floor. Glancing at the stairs, he dragged his hand through his hair. “’Tis just one more thing to add to my list of repairs and now it takes priority over the hall.” He gave an irritated shake of his head. “Bloody hell, this place is falling down around us.”