Shayla gasped. “Evangeline, what did you do?”
Her breath caught. “What are you talking—”
“The side of your face, it is scraped and bruised.”
“Oh, that.” She released the breath she’d been holding. “I slipped on the ice.”
The three sisters sat tight-lipped, staring beyond her. Evangeline glanced over her shoulder to see Gabriel and Broderick enter the cave, shaking snow from their cloaks. “I hope you ladies don’t mind sharing your quarters for the night. There’s no room left for us to set up our tents,” Gabriel said as the two men made themselves comfortable beside the blazing hearth.
Absently stabbing the meat on her plate, Evangeline said, “I thought you would be staying with Lachlan.”
Gabriel frowned. “No. Although he seems much improved, he may require more of your blood, Evangeline. It is you who should be with him in case he has a setback.”
“As he means to lead the charge against Magnus at first light, I suspect there is no question he will require more of your blood,” Broderick said around a mouthful of chicken, waving the leg at her.
She shoved a piece of meat into her mouth before she said something she’d regret. How could she refuse without drawing attention to her apprehension at returning to the cave?
“The two of you have made yourselves overly comfortable, considering we’ve yet to agree to your request,” Fallyn informed the men in an imperious tone.
Broderick licked his fingers, arching a black brow. “Gabriel was just being polite. You cannot deny hospitality to your betters.”
“Broderick,” Gabriel said in an exasperated sigh.
A shard of rock broke free from the ceiling to land on the Welsh king’s head. Gingerly rubbing the spot, Broderick scowled at Fallyn, who merely shrugged. “It happens all the time. Perhaps you should reconsider your decision to remain with us.”
While Broderick and Fallyn glared at one another, Gabriel angled his head to regard Evangeline. “Do you not think it best for you to return to Lachlan? I had assumed you would be with him, or we wouldn’t have left.”
Considering the probing look in Gabriel’s eyes, Evangeline couldn’t think of anything to say without revealing her true reasons for not returning to the cave. Forcing a smile, she stood and offered a hand to Aurora. “Come. You can bring your dinner with you.” At least with Aurora’s presence she wouldn’t have to worry she’d fall prey to Lachlan’s practiced seduction.
“Oh, no, she’s staying with us,” Fallyn said, leaping from the settee to take hold of the child’s other hand, shooting a triumphant look in Broderick’s direction.
“No.” Evangeline tugged Aurora back to her side. “She’s coming with me.” She wasn’t about to let Fallyn steal away her chaperone. Fallyn might think she needed more incentive to keep Broderick at bay. But it wasn’t fair; she had her sisters and Evangeline had no one.
“No, she’s not.” With a firm jerk, Fallyn pulled Aurora closer to her.
The little girl looked helplessly from Evangeline to Fallyn.
Scowling at Fallyn, Evangeline tugged harder. “I said, she’s coming with me.”
“Here, Aurora, look what I have for you.” With a victorious smirk, Fallyn conjured a white ball of fur. The little girl tugged her hand free from Evangeline’s with a delighted squeal. A dog! Fallyn had conjured a dog just like the one Aurora played with in the Mortal realm. Considering the state of her magick, Evangeline would be lucky if she could conjure a furball. She glared at her friend—ex-friend—and stormed from the cave.
Lachlan raised his gaze from the piece of steel he twisted in his hands to Evangeline, who ducked into the cave, an angry flash in her violet eyes, a contemptuous sneer on her lips. Muttering something about Fallyn under her breath, she closed the wooden door Broderick had affixed to the mouth of the cave before they had left. The two men hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d insisted they do so. He didn’t want them wasting what little time Broderick had left to woo Fallyn.
Evangeline shook the snow from her tousled mane as she stomped to the hearth. He grinned at her familiar demeanor. Now this was the Evangeline he was comfortable dealing with—unlike the one who’d lain vulnerable in his arms with the shimmer of tears in her luminous eyes.
“Who are ye fashed with now?”
Tossing her cape to the floor, she turned toward him.
“What the bloody hell happened to ye?” The muscles in his belly knotted at the sight of her bruised and swollen face.
“I fell,” she grumbled, wincing as she lowered herself to her cape.
“Did ye hurt anythin’ besides yer face?” Considering the look she shot him and the manner in which she’d lowered herself to the ground, he gathered her backside had taken the brunt of her fall. His tension eased at the knowledge she’d not been badly hurt and the injuries she’d sustained were the result of an accident. “Lucky ye have extra paddin’.”
With an affronted gasp, she said, “I cannot believe you said such a thing to me.”
He chuckled. “I meant the thickness of yer cape.” He dropped his gaze to concentrate on the piece of steel in his hands. If he didn’t, he’d be tempted to think on the delectable feel of her firm, rounded behind filling his hands.
“Oh. What are you doing?”
“Ye mean this?” He held up the piece of metal he’d twisted into a knot. She nodded. “I’ve been testin’ my strength. Ye were right. I canna believe how much stronger I am.” His smile of wonder faded at her disgruntled expression. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be pleased with the speed of my recovery. At this rate I can lead the charge against Magnus on the morrow. And this time, we’ll no’ fail.”
“I am pleased.”
“Ye coulda fooled me.” He noted the tremor that shook her slender frame, relieved her arms were crossed over her chest. “Ye’re cold.” He’d been too preoccupied to notice the fire had burned down to glowing embers. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised he didn’t feel the chill. “Why doona ye relight the fire?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip then lifted her hand to flick her finger at the hearth. Nothing happened. “It’s no use,” she said wearily.
Slowly, he lowered the metal to the ground beside him. “’Tis because I took too much of yer blood, isna it?”
“I’d already depleted much of my mag—strength before I gave you my blood. I should be fine by morning.” From the troubled look in her eyes, he didn’t think she believed that and felt a twinge of guilt at the pleasure he’d been taking in his increased strength.
“Ye need yer rest. Come here.” He lifted the covers, shoving aside the thought he was a fool to let her close to him. He offered her comfort, nothing more. In all good conscience, how could he not? He was the reason for her suffering, and it was not as though he couldn’t control himself. It was Evangeline, for Chrissakes, his sister-by-marriage’s best friend, the woman who’d been nothin’ but a pain in his arse for as long as he’d known her.
She hesitated as though she, too, questioned his intentions.
“I offer ye warmth and a place to lay yer head, nothin’ more. I was no’ myself earlier. ’Twas only on account of sharin’ yer blood that I ...” He clamped his mouth shut, not about to tell her how much he’d wanted her. How she’d inflamed a desire in him more fierce than any he’d ever known. Nay, he spoke the truth, ’twas her magick that had fired his blood.
Obviously her need for warmth won out. Avoiding his gaze, she came to his side. “Sweet Christ, ye’re freezin’,” he said when she joined him beneath the covers. He drew the furs to her chin then wrapped his arms around her.
She made a halfhearted attempt to wriggle from his hold.
“Doona be daft, ye’re shakin’ like a leaf in a windstorm.” He rested his chin on top of her silky hair, trying to ignore the voluptuous curves pressed against him. “So, how do ye think Broderick’s farin’ in his attempt to woo Fallyn?” he asked, hoping to distract himself. If he didn’t, he wa
s afraid he’d soon give her reason to question his intentions.
She tipped her head back, brow arched. “You can’t mean to tell me he actually thinks he’s courting her?”
He scowled at the wry glint of amusement in her eyes. “What’s he done now?”
“He told her she had to cede to his request for shelter as he was a king. She made a rock fall on his head.”
“ ’Twas no’ the smartest thing fer him to say, but did she agree?”
“Yes, although she’s not pleased, hence the falling rock, but why are you so interested in what goes on between them?” He raised his brows and held her gaze. She rolled her eyes. “I should have known. Well, I don’t mean to disappoint you, but I doubt very much Broderick will win her back. You’ll just have to accept the fact you’re stuck with them. If you’d just agree to their proposal you’d save yourself a lot of aggravation. What exactly is your objection to them starting a school?”
“The men havena entirely forgotten or forgiven what happened when Morgana ruled the Enchanted Isles. A school to train women to be warriors would not be well received. How could it be when the men had been treated little better than slaves by the lot of them? I have enough to deal with without addin’ ...” He frowned at her stunned expression. “What?”
“I ... well I thought you objected to the school simply because you didn’t believe women could or should be warriors.”
“I told ye, ye didna ken me.”
“I’m beginning to see that perhaps I misjudged you.”
He laughed. “Doona look so disappointed. Ye’re no’ entirely wrong. I doona think women should be warriors. It just wasna the reason I objected to the school.”
With a derisive snort, she shook her head. “Fallyn and her sister’s fighting skills are superior to some of your own warriors’. So are Syrena’s. Perhaps you have forgotten she, too, was once a warrior.”
“She still is.” He grinned before adding, “And I doona dispute their prowess on the battlefield, Evangeline. I just don’t believe they belong there.” He didn’t think she’d appreciate it if he told her where he thought they did belong.
“You are ...”
He placed a finger on her lips before he gave in to the urge to quiet her with a kiss. For all his good intentions, he was too aware of her body molded to his. And the direction their conversation was headed didn’t help matters. “Doona waste yer breath. I ken well enough what ye think of me. Why doona ye get some sleep now? We’ll have need of yer magick on the morrow.”
A flicker of emotion shadowed her eyes.
“Doona worry, Evie, we’ll get Uscias back.”
“We have to. Nothing matters more than stopping Magnus from gaining access to weapons with the power your sword contains. Nothing!” Her gaze fell to his blade lying within easy reach at his side.
He frowned. Not sure he liked what she appeared to be saying. “Evangeline, I doona give a bloody hell aboot Magnus. All I care aboot is makin’ sure Uscias is safe and unharmed. If he has to reveal his secrets to keep him that way, then so be it. We’ll deal with the consequences later.”
She pulled away from him, then twisted to skewer him with a furious glare. “No! No matter what the cost, we have to prevent Magnus from arming his warriors with weapons such as yours. He will be unstoppable. He will destroy the Fae of the Enchanted Isles. You have to understand!” She broke off on a choked cry.
Shocked as much by what she said as the desperation in her voice, Lachlan stared at her.
“What has gotten into ye? Ye canna truly mean to say ye would sacrifice Uscias to stop Magnus?” He didn’t even try to keep the contempt from his voice.
Her shoulders sagged as she lifted sorrow-filled eyes to his. “I will do whatever I must to protect the Fae of the Enchanted Isles. Whatever it takes, I will do.”
“I thought I kent ye, Evangeline. But I see I was mistaken.”
Chapter 11
Evangeline wriggled beneath the blankets, trying to absorb warmth from the hard wall emitting heat at her back.
“Careful, lass,” the heat-producing mountain of muscle murmured close to her ear in his thick brogue, his big hand splayed across her belly. Her eyes flew open and her sleep-befuddled brain cleared in an instant. She jolted upright, hitting her head on his chin.
“Bloody hell, would ye quit doin’ that. I swear ye broke my jaw this time,” Lachlan grumbled.
“Sorry.” Her apology came out on a crystallized cloud. No longer sheltered by his embrace, she shivered in the frigid air of the dank cave.
“I’ll forgive ye if ye light the fire and give me back the covers.”
Without thinking, she flicked her fingers at the hearth. It wasn’t until the flames danced on the walls that she realized what she’d done. She pressed her hands to her chest, practically giddy with relief. Her magick had returned. Not that she’d doubted it would, not really, but it was not an experience she wished to repeat. She didn’t know how Lachlan stood it, being dependent on others, feeling helpless and out of control. There could be nothing worse.
“If ye doona mind, Evangeline, ’tis still freezin’ in here.” He yanked the covers back.
She conjured more blankets and dumped them on his head.
“I see ye’re back to yer charmin’ self this mornin’.”
Last eve he’d thought her overwrought and exhausted—distressed over her lack of magick. He’d said as much before she’d drifted off into a restless sleep. He was wrong. Her distress had been caused by her inability to make him understand that there was no price too high to pay to stop Magnus. It was the futility of her attempt to convince him that had frustrated and disheartened her. She supposed the knowledge she’d possibly sacrificed his cousin for the cause added to the turbulence of her emotions. He’d never forgive her if he learned about Iain.
The thought didn’t trouble her as much as it had the night before. Her magick had returned, and with it her confidence and conviction. She believed without a doubt she was right, although that didn’t assuage her conscience completely. Lachlan appeared to be well healed with no chance of a setback, and she wondered if she should inform him about Aurora’s vision. She quickly pushed the thought from her head. He’d have the unenviable task of choosing between saving his cousin or his mentor. No, it was up to her to relieve him of the burden. Besides, she was not certain what Aurora had seen.
He nudged her with his knee. “If ye’re fallin’ asleep, ye might wish to do so lyin’ down.”
She glanced over her shoulder. With his arm crooked behind his head, he watched her. The firelight bronzed the sculpted muscles of his bare chest, the dark highlights of his golden hair. She tore her gaze from his masculine beauty, swallowing hard before answering, “I’m wide awake and I’m quite certain it’s morning.” With a low murmur, she removed the door. At least a foot of snow tumbled across the threshold; a swath of dull gray sky barely visible through the whirling white torrent beyond. The wind howled through the opening.
“Fer Chrissakes, put it back.”
With a disappointed wave of her hand, she set the door in place. “We’ll have to wait out the storm.”
He sat up beside her, scrubbing his hands over his face. “No’ necessarily. It may be just what we need to give us the advantage. They’ll be expectin’ us to stay holed up here until it abates.”
His broad shoulder brushed against her, and her gaze drifted to the dressings covering his wounds. Despite the obvious strength of his battle-hardened body, she couldn’t completely shut out the memory of how close he’d been to death. “Are you certain your wounds are sufficiently healed?”
He cocked his head as though surprised by her question. “Aye.”
Afraid his desire to lead would override his common sense and put him at risk, she quirked a finger. “Let me see.”
He shrugged and presented his back. She moved behind him then carefully removed the linen bindings. Tentatively, she traced the tips of her fingers over the raised pink welts crisscrossi
ng his broad back. The corded muscles flexed beneath his bronzed skin, and the urge to press her lips to his healing wounds overwhelmed her. She leaned closer, inhaling his warm, masculine scent.
“Yer fingers are cold.” His husky voice jolted her heat-fuzzed brain.
Hastily, she withdrew her hand. “You’ve healed remarkably well.” Her voice revealed nothing of her flustered state. The desire that had flared to life inside her.
“Aye, thanks to yer blood.”
She twisted her hands in the blankets to keep from touching him. “Gabriel and Broderick thought you might require more. If you think you ... well, hmm ...” What was wrong with her? She swallowed a pitiful groan. She knew exactly what was wrong with her. She craved the feel of his body enveloping hers, the feel of his mouth on her skin, her lips.
“Are ye offerin’ me yer blood, Evie?” He reached for her hand. Holding her gaze, he traced the tips of his calloused fingers over the sensitive skin of her palm in the same manner she’d smoothed hers over his back. The look in his amber eyes caused the muscles low in her belly to clench and her yes came out on a breathy sigh.
She closed her eyes, certain he knew how he made her feel. Somehow she managed to say, in a more controlled voice, “If you think it will aid you in defeating Magnus.” She had no choice but to make the offer. Wasn’t it her duty to do everything she could to guarantee their mission’s success? Her arm felt heavy as she lifted it toward him.
“Oh, aye, I’ll take what ye offer,” he murmured. Lying back amongst the pillows, he gave her arm a tug. “Come here, Evie.”
“But I thought ...”
He pulled her into his arms. His heated whisper warmed her cheek. “Ye think too much.”
If that were true, what was she doing snuggled up against a man she’d vowed to keep her distance from? Worse still, she’d only just regained her magick and now she risked him going too far, taking too much and leaving her powerless once again. She placed her palm on his chest to lever herself up.
King of the Isles Page 12
