King of the Isles

by Debbie Mazzuca

“Arwan came to my room one night to interrogate me as to who my parents were, how I’d come to be in the Isles and why. Looking back, I think even then he was aware of who I was. Rohan, for my protection, had kept my identity a secret, but I’m quite certain Arwan knew my mother well enough to see the resemblance. He was such a coldhearted, self-centered bastard, I doubt he even cared that my mother had been responsible for the Isle Faes’ destruction. I didn’t know that then, I wish I had as it gave him the upper hand. He exploited my weakness. If my answers were not to his liking, I was to be banished from the Isles, separated from Syrena. I would have failed both her and Rohan.”

  Evangeline lifted her eyes to his as if begging him to understand. “I couldn’t let that happen. Other than Rohan, I had no one but Syrena. She’d befriended me and she’d suffered enough at Arwan’s hand. I wasn’t about to let her endure anymore. I knew ... I knew he wanted me. I attempted to seduce him, distract him from his questions.” The self-loathing in her hollow laugh was painful to hear. Lachlan glided his palm up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her. “In my innocence I thought a kiss would satisfy him.”

  As if by rote, she related what she’d endured at Arwan’s hand in a flat, empty tone. Arwan had got off easy; he deserved a slow and lingering death for what he’d done to her. Lachlan deserved the same, maybe more so since he knew her and should’ve realized the truth on his own.

  Needing to look into her eyes when he begged her forgiveness, he lifted her from his lap and laid her gently in the sand. Careful not to crowd her body with his, he leaned over her, framing her face with his hands. “Ye didna deserve my condemnation, Evie, ye deserve my respect and admiration fer what ye have withstood. Fer being a woman who stands by her convictions and protects those she cares about without regard to her own suffering.”

  “Please, it is not necessary to flatter me. I don’t hold your words against you. I understand where they came from.”

  “How the hell can ye understand when I didna?”

  She gave a startled gasp. He closed his eyes, cursing his inability to keep his temper under control, then gentled his voice. “I was jealous, Evie. Angry another man had held ye, kissed ye, had been inside ye.”

  He hesitated, unsure he should tell her the rest, but he had no choice. There could be no secrets between them, not if they wanted their marriage to work, and he now knew that he did. He just hoped when all was said and done, so did she.

  “I was disgusted that man had been my father. Nay, doona turn from me. I ken I look like him, Evie, and I admit to a certain amount of male pride. I didna like the thought ye’d used me as a replacement fer my father.” He eased away from her and sat up. Taking her hand in his, he studied her slender fingers, unable to meet her gaze. “Ye’re important to me. I’ve come to care fer ye, more than I wanted to. So the thought ye used me to gain control over the Isles didna sit well.”

  “No, that was never my intention.”

  He kissed her palm, then stretched out beside her, leaning on his elbow. “I ken that now. I shoulda kent it right away, but the thought of ye with anyone else but me, especially Arwan ...”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips then raised her gaze to his. “You are the only man I have ever wanted.”

  Her heartfelt declaration vanquished whatever doubts had remained inside him. The tension eased from his knotted muscles, replaced by a heady sense of well-being. He smiled, drawing her into his arms. “So is that why ye strung me from the rafters that day at Lewes when I kissed ye?” As soon as he asked the question, he cursed himself for being a fool and held her away from him, searching her face. “Sweet Christ, I scared ye, didna I? I look so much like my bloody father ye thought I was him, didna ye?”

  “You don’t, you know, not really.” She touched his cheek. “Besides, it doesn’t matter.” A small smile played on her lips. “Once I found out you were the one upsetting Syrena, I would have done the same thing.”

  “Aye, it does,” he said, unable to go along with her lighthearted attempt to dismiss the matter. “Do I scare ye when I touch ye, when I kiss ye? Does it remind ye of him?” The muscles in his chest constricted as he awaited her answer. Any chance they might have of a good marriage hinged on her aye or nay.

  “Once, that first time in the caves. It was dark and ... No, don’t look at me like that. You are nothing like Arwan. You’re gentle and kind. You make me feel safe and protected.”

  He expelled a relieved breath, then looking down into her beautiful face, drew his thumb over the bow of her sweet mouth. “Evie, just so ye ken, the last thing I want ye to feel when I kiss ye is safe and protected.”

  She frowned. “You don’t? But I—”

  “Nay, I doona. When I kiss ye,” he brushed her lips with his, “I want ye to feel desired.”

  He tunneled his fingers through the thick tangle of her hair and slid his mouth slowly, back and forth, over hers. “I want ye to feel passion. I want ye hot, wet, and needy. As hungry fer me as I am fer ye.”

  She buried her face in his neck. His breath lodged in his throat. So soon after reliving her nightmare with Arwan, had he frightened her with his desire, a desire that had been obvious in his words, in his touch? He was about to pull away when her slender arms slid around his neck and he felt her lips move against his skin. She feathered soft kisses along his neck to his collarbone, to his chest. He sucked in a shuddered breath, forcing himself to remain still, loosening his grip on her hip. His fingers had tightened at the heady rush of lust that had all but consumed him at the evidence of her desire. The muscles in the arm he leaned upon quivered as he struggled not to give in to the urge to ravish her as her questing lips and the warmth of her breath heated his skin and inflamed his need to take her right then.

  Her tongue swirled over his chest and he groaned a curse, his cock swelling painfully in his trews. “Ye’re killin’ me, Evie.”

  Her lips curved against his flesh and his chest tightened. He was determined that with his kiss, with his every touch, he would wipe away the last remnants of the nightmare she had endured at Arwan’s hands. He eased back and brought his hand to her cheek, tilting her chin. Her cheeks were flushed and she raised her gaze to his. The trust and desire shining from the depths of her violet eyes destroyed what little control he had left. He bent his head and claimed her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. Mine. Over and over the word hammered his senses, pulsating through his veins.

  She whimpered into his mouth, twining the fingers of one hand in his hair while the other went to his waist, fisting in his plaid. He explored the moist warmth of her mouth with his tongue, enthralled by her sweetness, the drugging stroke of her tongue to his. The soft suction of her mouth sucking on his tongue, her hand kneading the tight muscles of his arse urging him closer, shattered his resolve to seduce her with slow, practiced finesse.

  His body enveloped hers, the hard points of her nipples rubbing seductively against his chest. His tongue mimicked the rhythm of his cock thrusting against her belly and she raised her hips. Her body moved in time with his, matching him stroke for stroke.

  Gliding his palm over her hip, he bunched her gown in his hand to bare her long, shapely leg. Her fingers found their way beneath his plaid and she smoothed her soft palms over his naked flesh, holding him firmly against her.

  “Christ, Evie,” he groaned, his voice a rough rasp. Rocking his cock against her belly, he murmured in the delicate shell of her ear, “I want to be inside ye, but if ye’re no’ ready, if ye need time, ye’d best tell me now.”

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly, writhing beneath him.

  He pulled back to look into her heavy-lidded gaze. “Did ye mean yes ye want me now, or yes stop now?”

  A frustrated growl escaped from her throat. “For the love of Fae, I mean yes. Now, Lachlan. Right now.”

  “Ye’re a verra demandin’ woman.” He laughed at the familiar look she shot him, as happy to hear her aye as to see her beautiful eyes were no longer haunted by the shadows of her past.
They shimmered with a fiery desire. His Evie was back.

  He trailed his lips along the column of her elegant neck, burying his face in the soft hollow there and inhaling her musky, floral scent. Rolling onto his back, he dragged her on top of him, his throbbing erection cradled in the moist heat of her folds.

  “Sit up,” he ordered gruffly.

  She hesitated, then did as he asked, casting a surreptitious glance at the barren headland. “I don’t know if we should ...” she began, her legs straddling his hips. But whatever she meant to say was lost on a low moan when he rubbed his cock against her slick heat.

  He knew this stretch of beach well. Confident they were safe from prying eyes, he drew her gown over her head and gazed hungrily at the ripe perfection of her body, content to drink in her beauty as the late afternoon sun slid low in the sky behind her, gilding her creamy skin in its luminescent light. A gentle breeze blew her long ebony locks across her flushed cheeks, carrying the scent of sea air with it. The water crashing against the distant rocks and the rustle of the tall grasses along the headland only served to heighten the magickal feeling of having this woman, his woman, in his arms.

  Cupping the heavy weight of her breasts in his hands, he drew his thumbs over her rose-tinted nipples and watched the play of emotion on her exquisite face. Eyes closed, she arched her back, pressing the globes more firmly into his hands, moaning as he took the peaked buds into his mouth, first one and then the other. Swirling his tongue over each perfect tip, he kneaded her breasts, reveling in her needy whimpers and the frantic manner in which she slid up and down his shaft.

  “Please,” she begged in a husky voice.

  “I’m no’ finished what ... Sweet Christ.” He groaned when she took hold of his cock and guided him into her wet sheath. Grabbing hold of her hips, his face buried in the soft bounty of her breasts, he thrust inside her, filling her welcoming heat.

  He’d never seen anything more beautiful than Evangeline at that moment, riding him without restraint, with a fierce passion, her head thrown back, her breasts thrust forward. The sight of her giving herself to him as she did, taking pleasure in their lovemaking when she’d suffered so much at his father’s hand, filled him with an aching tenderness.

  But there was nothing gentle in the way she rode him, and he knew tenderness was not what she wanted. He gave himself over to his desire, to hers, and made love to her with a ferocity that matched her own, gratified when he could no longer contain his roar of fulfillment to hear Evangeline’s cries of release join his.

  Chapter 25

  Evangeline’s outraged shrieks did nothing to deter the handsome highlander, who dragged her into the frigid waters. With a hard twist of her hand, she managed to break free of his hold and made a mad dash for shore.

  “Oh, no, ye doona.” Lachlan laughed. Capturing her easily, he looped an arm around her waist and carried her beneath his arm into the icy turquoise depths. “Mind where ye’re hittin’.” He grunted just before he unceremoniously dunked her beneath a wave.

  “Are you trying to drown me?” she sputtered as she resurfaced.

  “Nay, ’tis the fastest way to rid us of all the sand we’re wearin’. Now be still and let me help ye bathe.” He stopped her protest with a demanding kiss. Sitting on the sandy bottom, he hauled her onto his lap. Her eyes widened at the evidence of his desire beneath her naked behind.

  “Impressive considerin’ how cold the water is.” He grinned when she cast him an unamused look. No matter how much pleasure she’d taken from their tryst in the sand, she had no intention of doing so in the frigid waters.

  “Doona worry, I want to reach Lewes before nightfall, and that willna happen if I make love to ye again. I plan on takin’ my time when next I have ye beneath me, my bonny wife.” He rose from the water with her in his arms. “And I doona plan on waitin’ long fer that to happen. Without Bana and Erwn to contend with, I’m thinkin’ we should have several days and nights of uninterrupted pleasure.”

  She caught her lip between her teeth, wishing she could withhold Aurora’s prophecy from him.

  He angled his head. “What is it?”

  “Aurora. She’s had a vision. She says you are in danger.” All thought of the little seer’s prophecy had vanished the moment Lachlan had told Evangeline she was the only person he wished to see.

  Sharing the nightmare she’d endured with Arwan was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. She fiercely guarded her privacy, unwilling to let anyone close enough to see beneath the facade she’d erected. But she’d known instinctively if they were to make their marriage work, no matter how painful it would be, she could not hold back. She was surprised to find the exercise freeing, but knew it had more to do with Lachlan’s reaction than anything else. He didn’t condemn her, didn’t turn away from her. He’d given her his support, his understanding. Both had gone a long way in ridding her of the shame she’d carried for all these years.

  Looking at the man who was now her husband in every way, she was filled with an emotion so powerful it stripped away the last vestiges of her defenses. She loved him. Her heart swelled, filling the dark voids with a joyous light at the knowledge. Making her more determined than ever to let no one harm him or cause him pain.

  He set her on her feet. Their naked bodies molded to one another. His gaze softened as it came to rest on her. “Evie, I need ye to promise me that from now on ye’ll take no more risks with yer safety. Ye’ll let me protect ye and whoever else may be in danger, including me.”

  “No. I’m not some helpless female. I ...” She narrowed her gaze on him when he used her magick to dress her in trews and a tunic like she’d worn in the Far North. “That is not amusing, Lachlan. And just so you know, Aurora says my magick will soon return to me.”

  He waggled his brows and dressed himself in the same manner.

  She huffed out an exasperated breath. “You won’t be so cocky once I have my magick back.”

  “Aye, I will.” He placed two fingers between his lips and whistled shrilly. His black steed thundered across the sand toward them while Lachlan bent to retrieve her gown from where it lay half-buried in the sand along with his plaid and tunic. After he’d stuffed their belongings into a leather satchel, he settled Evangeline onto his steed, mounting with masterful grace behind her. She tightened her white-knuckled grip on the pommel, stifling a distressed yelp as the big beast took off at a gallop across the sand and bounded up the steep incline.

  Lachlan chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. “Trust me, I’ll no’ let anythin’ happen to ye.”

  “How far is Lewes from here?” she asked, praying it was not far.

  “I ken a shortcut, ’twill no’ take us long. We’ll be there before nightfall and remain until mornin’.”

  “Have Syrena and the children returned from Dunvegan?” she asked in a manner which suggested she hoped they had.

  “Nay.”

  Catching the rumble of amusement in his voice, she glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t pretend you are not as relieved as I am that they have yet to return.”

  He nuzzled her neck, igniting a frisson of desire in her belly. “Nay, I’m verra pleased we’ll have the keep to ourselves. That way when ye shout my name in pleasure, ye’ll no’ disturb the bairns.”

  “I didn’t shout out your name,” she muttered, her cheeks heating at the thought.

  “Aye, ye did, and ye’ll do so again this night.”

  She shook her head, wondering if all men were as arrogant and self-assured as her husband. It amazed her that he could get his swelled head through the doors of the palace. She was about to tell him so when she felt the increased tension in his arms.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, searching the thick brush bordering the path they rode upon. What looked to be the burnt-out shell of a castle loomed at the edge of the woods just ahead of them.

  She tipped her head back. A muscle jumped in the hard set of his jaw. His gaze fixated on the blackened remains of stone, the lines bra
cketing his full lips deepened. “Did you know the people who lived there?”

  “Aye. Lamont.”

  Her pulse kicked up at the name. “The same Lamont who held you captive at Glastonbury?”

  “The verra same.” His expression shuttered.

  “Tell me.” He’d forced her to tell him about Arwan, and it had been helpful. She knew Lachlan had suffered much in the Mortal realm, and from his reaction she thought perhaps this place played some part in it.

  He sighed when she pinned him with an unbending stare. “I can see I’ll get no peace until I tell ye, but ’tis in the past, Evie. I—”

  She covered the hand he pressed to her belly. “So was Arwan,” she reminded him quietly.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Lamont’s sister Janet and I were lovers. We’d been together several months when she told me she was carryin’ my bairn. I agreed to marry her and came here to ask her father fer her hand. The old crone who’d been my nursemaid was there. She kent what I was, she’d been the one to point out the mark of the Fae on my shoulder. On the day of my f—Alexander’s death, Aidan sent her from Lewes with enough coin to buy her silence. We thought she’d gone to Edinburgh, but all that time she’d been nursemaid to the Lamonts, to Janet.”

  “Why did Aidan send her away?”

  “She hated the Fae, encouraged Alexander’s fear and hatred of me. She’d been with his family for years and he set great store in her opinion.”

  “Did she tell the Lamonts?”

  He laughed. She heard the bitterness and pain in the harsh rasp and tightened her hold on his hand. “Oh, aye, she made sure they knew what I was, painting a vile picture of my evil tendencies. ’Twas little wonder the Lamonts, father and sons, beat me within an inch of my life. I was barely conscious when they tossed me onto my horse. Luckily Fin knew his way home. They sent a missive to Aidan demandin’ he marry Janet in my stead and banish me from Lewes. If he didn’t agree, they’d see that the bairn didn’t survive and that all would ken what I was.”

  “Aidan didn’t—”