King of the Isles

by Debbie Mazzuca

  “Is it near Armadale?”

  “Aye, in Loch Ness, at the foot of Armadale.”

  Hearing where the monster had been sighted, Evangeline’s heart thudded in her chest so hard and fast she felt faint. She pressed her fingers to her temples in an attempt to banish the loud buzzing in her head.

  “Evangeline, what is it?” Syrena’s voice seemed to come from a great distance.

  Lachlan reached down, bringing her onto his lap, his arms tightening around her. “Tell me, Evie, what’s wrong?”

  Drawing comfort from his embrace, she raised her gaze to his. “Above Loch Ness lies another door to the underworld.”

  His worried gaze searched hers. “Are ye sure?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat. “It’s the same door my mother opened to release the dark lords twenty-six years ago.”

  Chapter 27

  The wind howled, rattling the window in their chambers, setting Evangeline’s already frayed nerves on edge. She dug her fingers into the mattress, trying not to think of what she would face the next day.

  Crouched at her feet, tugging off her doeskin boots, Lachlan watched her closely. “Ye’re no’ comin’ to Armadale.”

  “Yes, I am. I will not let you face Ursula and Lamont on your own.” The thought of being near the site of her mother’s perfidy caused her stomach to lurch. Evangeline had vowed never to set foot near Loch Ness, fearing the evil her father had sworn dwelled within her, the evil she had sensed within herself the day she’d come through the realms, would gain a foothold there. But her fear for Lachlan won out over her fear for herself.

  “We doona even ken if they are there. Besides, I’ll no’ be alone. Rory, Aidan, Fergus, and Alasdair will accompany me.”

  “You need me, I have—”

  “Aye, I need ye safe.” He came to his feet and drew her to hers, tugging the tunic from her trews. His fingers brushed her skin causing the muscles deep within her belly to clench. He felt her reaction, and a wicked grin curved his lips. He drew circles over her tingling flesh, grazing the underside of her breasts. His teasing touch chased away her fears, banished her dread of what they might face on the morrow. Her desire for him and the passion he aroused in her were all that mattered in that moment.

  “Lift yer arms, Evie,” he ordered in his deep seductive brogue.

  A shiver of pleasure raced through her at his command. He drew the fine linen over her head, the cool air causing her nipples to tighten. Tossing her tunic on the bed, he leaned back to look at her breasts, heat flaring to life in his golden gaze. “I have another edict for ye to obey.” He chuckled at the unamused look she shot him. “From now on, I forbid ye to use magick to disrobe. I find I enjoy performin’ the task myself.”

  He cupped her breasts, caressing them, kneading them, and she decided this was one edict she’d gladly obey. Her nipples puckered in response to his expert attention and she couldn’t contain a moan of pleasure. Tugging her into his arms, he stroked her back with his big hands, then slid them to her bottom, pressing his straining erection, thick and hard, against her belly. She smoothed her palms over his broad shoulders, down the sculpted muscles of his arms, luxuriating in the feel of his powerful embrace. She snuggled closer, aching to feel his naked flesh against hers.

  “Perhaps I should help you disrobe, Your Highness.” She smiled into his amused eyes, dipping her finger below the waistband of his trews, reveling in the feel of his muscles rippling in response to her touch.

  “Ye ken, Evie, ye have the makin’s of a perfect wife,” he teased, but under the lightness of his tone she sensed something deeper, something she couldn’t name but that made her think his feelings for her went beyond desire and companionship.

  Her heart swelled at the thought and she barely managed to get the words past the emotions clogging her throat. “You’ll have to help me.” He was too tall for her to draw his tunic over his arms. She trailed her fingers over the golden hairs dusting his chest while he complied with her request.

  Her nipples puckered as they brushed against his heated flesh, drawing a low, aroused growl from him. He threw his tunic onto the chest at the end of the bed then drew her back into his embrace. She stretched on the tips of her toes and wound her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers. He cupped the back of her head, seducing her with the slow, sensuous slide of his lips over hers. He angled his head, taking the kiss deeper, torturing her with his tongue. She nipped it playfully, then soothed it with hers. His breathing roughened and the kiss grew hotter, wetter. His long, hard length rubbed against her and she moved her hips suggestively.

  He groaned, breaking the kiss. “I need ye naked, now. Use yer magick,” he demanded gruffly.

  She hid a smile. “Didn’t you just say I was not to use my magick to disrobe?” She pulled back, fighting to keep the amusement from her voice as she teased him. “I know how important it is that I obey you.”

  “Now ye decide to be the obedient wife? Don’t torture me, love. I need to be inside ye, badly.”

  She bit her lip then shook her head, unable to contain a gratified laugh at his frustrated moan. Pleased for once to turn the tables on her teasing husband. He narrowed his gaze on her. Clamping his big hands on either side of her waist, he lifted her easily, bringing them eye to eye. She gasped, grabbing hold of his shoulders, her breasts jiggling at the movement. He growled low in his throat, raising his smoldering gaze to hers. Cupping her bottom with his hands, he lifted her higher, bringing her breasts level with his mouth. He flicked his tongue over her nipples, watching her as he did. She moaned, wrapping her legs around him.

  “Ye taste so good,” he murmured, licking first one breast then the other.

  For the love of Fae, he was driving her mad. She clung to him, arching her back, pressing her nipple to his lips in hopes he would draw it deep into his hot mouth. If he didn’t soon, she’d have to relent and beg him to do so. He kneaded her bottom, a sinfully wicked smile creasing his handsome face as he slid her up and down his body.

  “Doona torture us any longer, my bonny wife. I can feel ye. Ye’re wet and hot, ye want me inside ye as much as I want to be.” He wrapped his arm beneath her bottom, holding her in place while he brought his other hand between them. He cupped her mound, stroking her through her trews. She writhed against him, consumed by desire. Lifting her hand, she flicked her wrist, groaning when his fingers slid over her naked flesh.

  “Now, there’s a good, obedient wife,” he rasped before he drew her nipple deep into his mouth.

  “Please,” she begged shamelessly, her nails digging into his shoulders.

  He backed her against the paneled wall, lowering her until she could feel the head of his erection demanding entry. “And now I’ll make you scream with pleasure,” he growled just before he slanted his mouth over hers.

  Wrapped in Lachlan’s embrace, Evangeline lay sated by the warmth of the crackling fire. The steady rhythm of the rain pummeling the window and the sound of their breathing lulled her into a slumberous state.

  “Good thing the thunder drowned out yer screams, or Rory and Aidan woulda come through the door with their swords drawn.” Lachlan chuckled, nuzzling the hollow between her neck and shoulder.

  “I did not scream.” Overloud moans of pleasure and some not so quiet begging, perhaps, but screams, most definitely not.

  “Aye, my bonny wife, ye did. And if I didna plan on gettin’ an early start on the morrow, I’d make ye do so again.”

  Stifling a yawn, Evangeline snuggled against him. “What time do we leave?”

  “Ye doona listen verra well. Ye’re no’ comin’ with me.”

  She pulled back to look at him. “I will not remain here if there’s even the slightest chance you’ll encounter Lamont and Ursula. You no longer have my magick, Lachlan. You need me.” A part of her wished she hadn’t drawn attention to his lack of magick, afraid he would ask her to share her power with him. If he did, she’d have no choice but to refuse h
im. Uscias’s warning had been clear—if she gave her blood to Lachlan again, she would lose her magick forever. And she could not bear to contemplate a life without her powers.

  He searched her face. “Christ, Evie, I canna believe ye think I’d ask ye fer yer blood. Do ye truly believe I’m so selfish as to put my desires over yer well-being?”

  “I didn’t say that, I—”

  “Ye didna have to. ’Tis written all over yer face,” he muttered, clearly not happy with her.

  Levering herself up on an elbow, she traced the hard set of his mouth with her finger. “No, I don’t believe you would. But I also know how difficult it is for you to be without magick.”

  “In truth, it never bothered me before, at least I didna think it did. But after experiencin’ yers, I admit I enjoyed the power that went along with it.” He gave her a rueful grin then drew her finger into his mouth, nipping the tip. “I can understand how ye wouldna want to be without it.”

  He couldn’t—not really. No one knew the void her magick had filled. “But you have me and my magick now. I will make certain no harm comes to you. I will protect—”

  With a low growl, he rolled her onto her back and pinned her beneath him. “Do ye no’ understand my need to protect ye is as great as yer need to protect me?”

  “Yes, and that’s why I must go with you to Armadale.”

  “Ye’re no’ makin’ sense, Evie,” he said with a frustrated shake of his head. And then, as though sensing her unwillingness to relent, he sighed. “Mayhap I should take ye with me. Ye could face yer fears once and fer all.”

  Her pleasure that he would allow her to accompany him without a fight was tempered by the anxiety swirling higher in her chest. The knowledge she would be but a stone’s throw from the door to the underworld caused her to break out in a cold sweat, and she shivered. “Good, that’s settled then.” She struggled to keep the tremor from her voice, but Lachlan’s gaze sharpened.

  “Aye, ’tis. Ye’ll remain here. Nay, doona argue with me. Once the danger has passed, I’ll take ye to Loch Ness.”

  “But I—”

  He smothered her protest in an openmouthed kiss that stole her breath away and any thought of arguing with him further.

  Sitting in the grand hall at Dunvegan, Evangeline gritted her teeth to contain a frustrated scream. Jamie and Alex, shrieking with laughter, ran around the table where they’d gathered to break their fast, their barking dog chasing after them. Olivia and Ava repeatedly banged their spoons in a mind-jarring symphony, leaving dents on the already scarred wooden table. When Mrs. Mac entered the hall carrying Syrena’s howling, red-faced infants, Evangeline no longer felt inclined to protect Lachlan, she wanted to strangle him. And if he hadn’t already left for Armadale, she would have gladly done so.

  Plop.

  A clump of porridge landed on Evangeline’s head. Glaring at Ava, who sat across from her giggling, Evangeline scooped the pile of mush from her hair. Olivia, not to be outdone by her cousin, shot a spoonful of oats at Evangeline’s chest. Growling under her breath, Evangeline looked over at Syrena and Aileanna, expecting them to admonish the devious little demons on her behalf.

  They didn’t.

  The two women sat staring into the bowls placed in front of them without so much as batting an eyelash. Wiping the porridge from her robes, Evangeline rose to her feet, concluding motherhood impaired a woman’s ability to see and hear. Either that or they’d fallen asleep with their eyes open.

  Well, she hadn’t.

  “Enough!” she said, lunging for Jamie and Alex as they raced by. Managing to grab hold of the backs of their tunics, she hauled them to the table and sat them firmly in the empty chairs beside their mother. With one set of twins taken care of, she marched over to Olivia and Ava and grabbed their spoons midair. “If you throw your food and bang your utensils, you don’t eat!” The four children gaped at her.

  Considering the squalling infants Mrs. Mac bounced on her hip in an attempt to quiet them, Evangeline knew they were too young to reason with and did the only thing she could think of. With a flick of her finger, she encased them in a soundproof bubble.

  Blessed silence, she sighed.

  “Evangeline!” Syrena and Aileanna stared at her in openmouthed horror.

  She frowned, surprised by their reaction. “What?”

  “What do you mean, what? My babies are floating around the hall in a bubble!” Syrena looked ready to pull out her hair.

  Angling her head, Evangeline narrowed her gaze on the babies bouncing off the wall. She didn’t know what the problem was. They were no longer crying. Mrs. Mac, who stood on a chair, her arms flailing in an attempt to reach the children, was the only one in danger.

  “Come down from there, Mrs. Mac. Don’t worry about them, they’re safe,” Evangeline reassured the older woman.

  “Aunt Evie, Aunt Evie.” Alex and Jamie tugged on the sleeve of her robe. “Put us in a bubble,” they demanded.

  Knowing it would not be long before they returned to their boisterous ways, she shrugged and encapsulated first Alex then Jamie in the impenetrable membrane.

  “Me ... me!” Ava and Olivia pounded the table. Only too happy to comply with the little hellions’ request, she flicked her wrist.

  Returning to her place at the table, she sat down with a contented sigh and smiled at Aileanna and Syrena. She rolled her eyes at the two women. “You can stop with the evil looks. Your children are fine, and more importantly, they’re quiet.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Jamie and Alex laughingly waving good-bye.

  She shifted in her chair, and using her magick, shut the doors to the grand hall, then locked them before the boys could make their great escape. No one other than the immediate family, Mrs. Mac, and Fergus knew they had faeries in their midst, and it would not bode well for the MacLeods if their secret were to be discovered.

  Arms crossed, Syrena kept an eye on the children. “You are not supposed to use your magick in the Mortal realm, Evangeline, unless you or one of the Fae is in danger.”

  “I was in danger of my head exploding, and since your father is well acquainted with the next generation of MacLeods, I’m certain he’d make an exception in this case.”

  Syrena rolled her eyes and Aileanna sat back, rubbing her distended belly. “I still can’t believe our husbands left before we woke up.”

  Evangeline raised a brow. “Like Lachlan, I’m certain Rory and Aidan didn’t wish to deal with our arguments.” She was also certain anyone within earshot of Dunvegan had been well aware of Aileanna’s and Syrena’s displeasure at being left behind.

  Before the children had rendered her insensible, Evangeline had been weighing her need to protect Lachlan against her desire to remain as far as she could from the door to the underworld. Considering what he might face, she knew she had no choice but to go after him. All she had to do was come up with a plan to deflect his anger when he discovered that she’d disobeyed him.

  She studied Aileanna and Syrena. Now, if they were to agree to accompany her, or better yet suggest it, Lachlan would have no choice but to forgive her. Since Syrena, a woman trained in battle, and Aileanna, a woman raised in the future, had a problem with their husbands’ narrow-minded tendencies, she knew exactly what to say to get them on board.

  “I suppose we should be grateful they wish to protect us. Although, I must admit, it annoys me they think of us as helpless simpletons who have nothing better to do than raise children.” Syrena bristled and Evangeline grimaced. Perhaps she should have given a little more thought to what she said. She cleared her throat and added, “They don’t take into account our abilities and desire to protect our families. They’re certain only a man has the strength and prowess to do so.”

  “You’re right, Evangeline. My husband seems to forget I, too, am a warrior. I might be a little rusty on the battlefield, but I can certainly hold my own.” With a determined nod, Syrena came to her feet. “I’m going to Armadale.”

  “So am
I,” said an equally determined Aileanna, although she had a difficult time rising from her chair. “If one of them is injured, at least I’ll be on hand to see to their care.”

  “What about Iain?” Evangeline asked Aileanna.

  “I do little more for him than manage his pain now. Mrs. Mac can do that as well as I can,” she said, glancing over to where the older woman tracked the floating children with a steely eye. “I think it would be best if we make no mention to Iain of our plans. Rory is concerned his injuries have made him feel less than a man and has kept him in the dark about Ursula and Lamont’s return.”

  “How will—” An insistent pounding on the hall’s massive oak doors interrupted Evangeline.

  Syrena nudged her. “The men are anxious to return to the hall. You’d best undo your spell.”

  Evangeline waved her hands, drawing the spheres toward her. Setting them in a row on the table, she waited until Syrena and Mrs. Mac were in place to grab hold of the babies. “Get ready,” she said, her instruction followed by a series of loud pops. The film vanished, leaving the older children sitting disappointed and pouting on the table while Syrena and Mrs. Mac snagged the infants.

  With the babies in her arms, Mrs. Mac headed for the door Evangeline had just unlocked. Four of the MacLeods’ men-at-arms sauntered into the room.

  Aileanna clapped a hand over Jamie’s mouth when he appeared ready to tell the men about his adventure. “Jamie,” she warned.

  “I wasna goin’ to say anythin’,” he protested, sliding off the table.

  Ava’s scrunched-up face didn’t bode well. Having witnessed previous temper tantrums, Evangeline thought it time for her to make her exit.

  “Ava, we have no time for that. We must prepare for Armadale,” Syrena said to her daughter, stopping Evangeline in her tracks.

  She turned. “Prepare whom?”