King of the Isles

by Debbie Mazzuca

  “Nay, ’tis to his advantage to force us into his territory.”

  “Perhaps you should have assembled a larger contingent of warriors.”

  “I handpicked the warriors who ride with me, Evangeline. They’re the best, equal to at least twice their number.”

  “I suppose I must take your word on that.” Four days ago, Evangeline would not have accepted Lachlan’s word on anything. But from what she’d seen of late, she thought perhaps her opinion of him needed to be revised. His command of his warriors, his decisive and confident response to Uscias’s kidnapping, drew her admiration. If she could be certain he truly cared for the Fae, her worries over his leadership would be much diminished. But his lack of magickal abilities remained an issue. Syrena had not fared any better with her magick, but at least she’d been pureblood. There was no escaping it, whether he liked it or not, Lachlan must marry, and soon.

  “And how’s that goin’ fer ye, lass? I imagine ’tis difficult fer ye, seein’ as how ye havena trusted me since the first day we met,” he said in an amused tone.

  “How was I to trust you? You went out of your way to hurt Syrena. You threatened the two of us.”

  “I didna threaten ye. I kissed ye,” he scoffed.

  She was unlikely to forget his kiss. In the dimly lit stable, his face had been barely distinguishable from his father’s, and she’d panicked.

  “If ye recall, ’twas ye who attacked me. Ye strung me up from the rafters, letting me drop to the floor when Syrena demanded ye release me.”

  She shifted in her discomfiture and his hand tightened at her waist, ending her squirming. “I was sworn to protect Syrena. You threatened her.”

  “Nay, ye didna ken who I was, so ye wouldna have kenned that then. Ye strung me up on account of the kiss. I doona recall my kisses havin’ that affect on a woman before. Mind ye, a few have suggested they tie me up, but no’ in the same manner or with the same intention as ye did.”

  “Why must you do that? You cannot carry on a conversation without making it about your lustful thoughts, as though you think of nothing else. I don’t believe—”

  “Ye take life too seriously, Evie. Mayhap if ye had some experience with passion, ye’d no’ be so quick to judge others who enjoy it.” He brought his hand from her waist, cupping her jaw firmly with his calloused fingers.

  Heat simmered in the heavy-lidded gaze he fixed on her mouth. The objection formulating in her mind fled the moment he skimmed his thumb over her bottom lip. When he dipped his head, the hand she should have used to push him away curled in the coarse fabric of his tunic, drawing him closer. He covered her lips with his in a kiss so warm and tender it melted her resistance as quickly as the snowflake melted on her cheek. A light wind cooled her flushed cheeks and she snuggled into his hard, muscular heat. He took advantage of her low moan of pleasure, sweeping his tongue past her parted lips. The kiss was no longer gentle but firm, no longer warm but hot, demanding, wet, and openmouthed. Panic howled inside her as loudly as the wind that now pelted them with snow. Fear iced her insides as quickly as the snow iced her face. Frantic, she struggled against him.

  She had to make him stop.

  Chapter 7

  Lachlan toppled face first into his horse’s mane. One minute Evangeline was warm and willing in his arms, the next she was gone. He shoved himself upright, straining to see through the blinding snowstorm. His pulse spiked at the thought she’d somehow fallen off his horse. No matter her magickal abilities, he couldn’t shake the image of her earlier gut-wrenching tumble. His gaze whipped to the ghostly apparitions winging their way through the curtain of snow toward him. The rhythmic swoosh of their wings grew louder and his apprehension eased when he made out Evangeline astride Bowen.

  The blasted woman was going to be the death of him. Her stubborn refusal to meet his gaze grated on his nerves. It wasn’t as if he’d forced his attentions upon her. To hell with it; he didn’t have the time or inclination to ponder the reason for her hasty retreat. Not with the raging blizzard they were now caught up in. He didn’t need the distraction and, he reasoned, Aurora needed an adult with her. An adult who could retain her seat would’ve been preferable, but Lachlan imagined whatever had caused Evangeline to flee would be incentive enough for her to tie herself to the horse if need be.

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  He hadn’t been. That was the problem. Mayhap at first, he’d thought to tease her. To show her what she was missing. But the jest had ended up on him. He didn’t know how or why, but she’d awakened something inside him. Something he’d buried so deep he thought it long dead. Not one of the women he’d bedded in the last two years—and there’d been plenty—had made him feel the way she did.

  Aye, she was beautiful. And when he went to kiss her, the sight of her long lashes resting against the sculpted curve of her porcelain cheeks, the snowflake on the tip of her elegant nose, the bow of her full lips, had enflamed his desire like no one else. But it was more than that. She challenged and entertained him with her sharp wit. Her passionate zeal, strength, and confidence were a welcome change from the insipid beauties overrunning his court. In hopes of changing the direction his lust-addled brain had taken, he added arrogant, quick-tempered, and opinionated to his list.

  He should’ve ended it before it had begun. Before he felt the small crack in his armor, a fissure so minute as to be infinitesimal, but enough for him to vow that no matter how intoxicating that small taste of her had been, it was not worth the price he’d pay.

  “Evangeline,” he shouted over the plaintive howl of the wind. “Can ye abate the storm?”

  She studied the sky, her long hair tangling behind her. Returning her gaze to his, she gave him a curt nod.

  Good. They were back to normal, he thought with a relieved sigh.

  Broderick and Gabriel drew their mounts to his side. “Don’t get your hopes up. The only wizard I’ve ever seen manipulate the weather is Uscias. No matter how powerful Evangeline thinks she is, she’s no Uscias,” Broderick said as they watched her lift her arms, her head tipped back, her lips moving.

  A soft glow surrounded her and she smiled. A smile so dazzling it lit her beautiful face and stole Lachlan’s breath away. As though welcoming a lover, her arms spread wide. The white fur cape she now wore parted, revealing the snow-dampened tunic molded to her breasts. Fighting an urge to hold the heavy weight of those firm globes in his hands, he tightened his grip on his steed’s reins and dragged his gaze back to her face.

  The air crackled around her. Shayla, who’d been riding alongside Evangeline, motioned for Aurora to jump into her outstretched arms. A husky rapturous laugh escaped Evangeline’s parted lips and his jaw dropped. Bloody hell, no wonder she didn’t need a lover. It was as clear as the enthralled look upon her face; no mere man could compete with how her magick made her feel.

  A shower of blue, yellow, and red sparks shot from the tips of her fingers. She brought her arms over her head and the vibrant colors leapt up to illuminate the sky. When her hands came together, a teeth-rattling boom blasted the air with the force of twenty cannons fired at once. He swayed upon his mount as the sky undulated around them, shaking his head to clear the ear-rending vibration.

  Lachlan lifted his palm to catch a snowflake that fell from the sky on the now-gentle breeze, then looked at the woman who’d rendered him speechless with her power.

  “She did it.” The awe in Gabriel’s voice echoed his own.

  Shayla, Riana, and Aurora, offered her their enthusiastic admiration. But the rest of the warriors stared at her in a combination of fascination and horror. Dark murmurs of condemnation worked their way through the ranks. The words mother and evil were easily discernible. Lachlan stiffened, scanning the clutch of warriors who brought up the rear where the remarks seemed to have come from. Shayla and Riana twisted in their saddles as though daring the men to repeat their charges. He returned his attention to Evangeline, who leaned across to speak to Aurora, pretending he was certa
in that she hadn’t heard what the men said. Or was she so accustomed to the Faes’ hatred that she was immune to it?

  Nay, he thought, noting her tight smile—the bastards had wounded her. For their benefit, he drew his sword. The blade glowed as brightly as the sky had prior to the deafening blast. Riana moved her steed, making room for him as he brought his mount alongside Evangeline. She glanced to where his sword rested across his lap, her startled gaze leaping to his. He shifted uncomfortably on his horse, a heated flush warming his face. Mayhap he should’ve waited until the evidence of the desire she’d stirred in him had abated before approaching.

  Surreptitiously, he glanced at his lap, relieved to find the cape and his glowing sword concealed the bulge in his trews. It struck him then that his blade had been doing that more of late, turning colors as it once had for Syrena. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he’d always assumed the sword had ceased to show its colors because it had been displeased Lachlan now held its ownership. It pleased him to think his sword no longer found him lacking.

  “I thought you wanted me to get rid of the storm?”

  He frowned. What had he done to make her feel otherwise? “Aye, I did. I wanted to thank ye fer doin’ as I asked. I kent all along ’twas a good idea to bring ye with us.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes, pleased he could take her mind off the warrior’s disparaging remarks.

  “Oh, yes, we are so glad you deigned to include Evangeline in Uscias’s rescue,” Shayla mocked him, tossing her long, auburn tresses over her shoulder as she returned Aurora to Evangeline.

  “Yes, for once one of your decisions proved worthy of admiration. Oh, wait, Syrena forced you to do so,” Riana said with a sneer.

  Lachlan scowled at the two sisters, who eyed him with caustic derision, thankful Fallyn brought up the rear so she didn’t have an opportunity to spew her contempt along with theirs. She was worse than the two of them put together.

  Remembering the charged sparks that had emanated from Evangeline’s fingers, he found himself searching them for some sign of injury. “Ye have no aftereffects from yer magick?”

  His concern appeared to take her by surprise. Understandably, since it had done the same to him.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, then wiggled her fingers at him.

  “Good.” Unable to rid himself of the misguided urge to comfort her, Lachlan took his leave before he did or said something foolish.

  “I see the women are as enamored with you as ever.” Gabriel chuckled, then angled his head to study Lachlan. “Although I couldn’t help but notice you and Evangeline seemed to be on friendlier terms.”

  “I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but obviously not.” Broderick shifted his moody gaze to Lachlan. “I’d be careful with that one if I were you. I’ve never paid much attention to Morfessa’s allegations before, but after witnessing her power today ... I don’t know, perhaps her father—”

  “Is a madmon,” Lachlan snarled. “’Tis only his jealousy of her magick and her relationship with my uncle that cause him to cast his malevolent aspersions against her.” He noted the two men’s silent exchange and thought he should temper his defense of Evangeline before they drew conclusions that were neither warranted nor wanted. Deciding it was best to change the subject, he said to Broderick, “I’m surprised ye noticed anythin’, since ye’ve only had eyes fer Fallyn from the moment ye arrived in the Isles.”

  “I noticed that as well. How goes the wooing, Broderick?” Gabriel asked.

  Jaw clenched, Broderick said, “I am not wooing. I do not woo. I have never needed to woo a woman before and I don’t intend to start now.”

  “Aye, ye were wooin’ her. It just wasna workin’. Mayhap I should give ye some pointers,” Lachlan suggested hopefully. If he could help Broderick win back his ex-betrothed, the three sisters would no longer be a pain in his arse. They’d be a pain in Broderick’s.

  “What could you tell him about wooing, MacLeod? The women practically throw themselves at your feet, begging you to take them to your bed.”

  ’Twas true, but he was sure he could think of something if it meant getting rid of Fallyn and her sisters. He ignored Gabriel. “First off, do ye want the lass, or no’?”

  Broderick stared straight ahead, then gave a curt nod.

  Lachlan released the breath he’d been holding. Sweet Christ, he was saved. “All right then. Ye have to take advantage of the opportunity presented to ye. I figure ’twill take us two days at most to retrieve Uscias, so ye doona have a moment to spare. Get back there and ride with her.”

  Broderick shook his head. “I can’t. She said I was causing her head to ache and it would be best if I rode with you since you’d need all the help you can get.”

  Lachlan glared over his shoulder at Fallyn, who was chatting gregariously with two of his men. He bit back an oath when she laughed at something the good-looking warrior on her left said. “I’m more than capable on the battlefield and well she kens it. She’s a ...” He stopped before he said something that would make Broderick rethink his plan to win her back. “What were ye sayin’ to cause her head to ache?”

  “I told her what I expected of her when we met Magnus, instructing her on the intricacies of warfare.”

  “Fer Chrissakes, the woman is a warrior, Broderick. And though I ken our sentiments of havin’ them on the battlefield are the same, I’d no’ be fool enough to instruct Fallyn on battle tactics. Besides the three of us, she could put down most of the men here.”

  “Lachlan’s right, Broderick. You should go back and apologize to her for your earlier remarks. Explain to her you made them out of concern for her welfare.”

  “Aye, do what Gabriel says. Mayhap share the battle plan with her as well and pretend ye seek her opinion on its merits.”

  “We do not need her opinion. The plan is sound,” Broderick said with a belligerent thrust of his chin.

  Lifting his eyes to the heavens, Lachlan prayed for patience. “I said pretend, Broderick. Now get yer arse back there. She’s enjoyin’ the warriors’ attentions too much fer my likin’.”

  The Welsh king shot a look over his shoulder and with a curse brought his mount around, racing to the back of the contingent.

  Gabriel guffawed. “I take it you believe if he succeeds in winning Fallyn back you’ll be rid of the three of them.” When Lachlan didn’t deny his observation, he continued, “If I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up just yet. Broderick isn’t known for his charming ways.”

  Lachlan scowled at his friend. Fallyn and her sisters had been a thorn in his side since the day he’d assumed his Crown. But they’d become more aggravating than ever with their incessant badgering about opening their school. And once Uscias was back safe and sound in the Isles, he knew they’d be pestering him again. Only this time, with Syrena’s support, it would be worse than ever.

  “’Tis obvious he loves her. He—” Lachlan whipped around at the sound of Broderick’s angry shout in time to see the Welsh king launch himself at one of the warriors who’d been paying court to Fallyn. “Bloody hell, he’s goin’ to ruin everythin’.”

  Evangeline halted mid-conversation with Shayla when a furious Lachlan charged to the back of their small party, a laughing King Gabriel following after him.

  Shayla sighed. “Men. I swear we should’ve gathered up the women and gone after Uscias on our own.”

  “I don’t know, Lachlan seems quite confident in his ability to free Uscias. I think perhaps we have misjudged him,” Evangeline ventured, brushing the light dusting of snow from her hair.

  A slack-jawed Shayla turned to her. “Are you ill? Perhaps using so much of your powers has scrambled your brain.”

  “No, I—”

  “She’s fallen under that seductive spell he casts over all women. I swear the big oaf wields more magick than we think. I have yet to meet a woman in the Enchanted Isles who’s not in love with him. Besides us, of course,” Riana hastily added.

  “I’m not
in love with him,” Evangeline blustered. Lachlan, who was berating a chastened Broderick as they rode back to the head of the formation, glanced over at her, brow raised.

  “I should hope not,” Shayla muttered.

  Evangeline scowled at him. It was his fault the two women thought she was in love with him. Perhaps he had cast a spell over her. Although in the back of her mind she scoffed at her own foolishness, how else could she explain why she’d allowed him to kiss her? Or how that kiss, how his powerful body pressed against hers, had ignited a desire for intimacy she’d never experienced before. But even more disturbing than the desire for his touch was how he’d made her feel protected and cared for.

  This could not be happening to her. She was above this sort of behavior. She didn’t need or want anyone in her life, least of all Lachlan MacLeod. He would only serve as a distraction from her one purpose in life—protecting the Fae.

  Once Uscias was rescued, she’d return to Rohan’s court and monitor Lachlan from a safe distance. She’d spoken the truth when she said she’d underestimated him, but she would withhold judgment until she saw how he handled himself in the Far North. And once she found the proper candidate for his bride, well, he would no longer require her attention.

  Instinctively her gaze was drawn to his commanding presence. Snow lightly fell from the sky to rest on his broad shoulders and dampen his hair to a rich, honey gold. Remembering the feel of his rippling muscles beneath her hands, the silky texture of his thick hair between her fingers, a wistful sigh escaped unbidden from her lips. She groaned. Forget rescuing Uscias in a day, they must rescue him in an hour.