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Authors: Debbie Mazzuca

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“Yes, as beautiful as Evangeline, who you seem to be undeniably aware of, of late, yet I don’t see you offering for her.”
“Are ye daft? Why the bloody hell would I do that? I have nothin’ to gain from weddin’ the lass but a pain in my arse.”
“Precisely my point.” Gabriel grinned. “Although you must admit you have gained much from Evangeline, as your recent display of strength has proven.”
Mayhap he shouldn’t have been showing off his newfound powers earlier. “Hardly worth the aggravation, nor did I have to wed her to obtain it.”
“Again, you’ve proven my point.”
Lachlan grunted. “So, ye willna wed Shayla?”
“No, my friend, I do not see that happening even to save your sanity. It seems you’re stuck with them.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ my uncle needs a wife. Mayhap he’d stop meddlin’ in my affairs if he was otherwise occupied.”
“Good luck with that.” Gabriel laughed as they took to the sky.
“They havena noted our presence as yet,” Lachlan said, making himself heard over the rhythmic swoosh of the horses’ wings and the blowing snow. Through a curtain of heavy flakes, he discerned Magnus’s scouts astride the bears patrolling the perimeter. To his left, one of the beasts roared the alert. “It seems I spoke too soon.” He motioned for his army to follow him then swooped down on their enemy.
Less than an hour later, Lachlan surveyed the ash-coated snow with satisfaction. Power and pride surged within him. No matter the number of warriors he’d faced, not once had his strength flagged. Even now the blood surged through his veins, his body humming in readiness for the next battle.
With the first line of Magnus’s defenses close to surrender, the king of the Far North would have no choice but to face him. Knowing it would not be long before Evangeline would play her role, he sought out Fallyn. His gaze landed on Broderick instead. So intent was his friend on the warrior and beast he battled, he was unaware the enemy approached from behind.
“Broderick, watch yer back!” Lachlan shouted, but the Welsh king displayed no evidence he’d heard him. Cursing, Lachlan started out at a run. He waved his sword, trying to gain the attention of one of his warriors who fought not far from Broderick. No luck. Just this once Lachlan wished he was full-blooded and could transport to his friend’s side. No sooner had the thought entered his head then a fuzzy sensation came over him.
He shook off the feeling only to realize he now stood beside a dumbfounded Broderick. With no time to think on what happened, Lachlan pivoted, thrusting his blade in the belly of the warrior whose sword was raised to smash into the back of Broderick’s head. Yanking his blade free, Lachlan turned his attention to the warrior and beast his friend had been fighting, but they’d fled.
Shaking off his disbelief, Broderick asked, “How did you do that?”
“I doona ken, but ’tis lucky fer ye that I did.” A triumphant laugh burst from Lachlan. He couldn’t bloody believe it, he had
magick.
Everything would be different now. Never again would the bastards call him a half-blood. Nor would his right to lead be questioned, not with both the Sword of Nuada and his newfound powers. He could not be defeated. No one would ever have him at their mercy again.
“It must be her blood. Evangeline’s.”
“Aye, I kent that.” Deep down he had known his powers were on account of her blood. He just hadn’t wanted to think about it.
Broderick clapped him on the shoulder. “Lucky for us it hasn’t faded yet.” He jerked his chin to the line of warrior’s flooding from Magnus’s palace. “Here they come. I—”
Lachlan grabbed his arm. “What do ye mean, hasn’t faded yet?”
“It won’t last, Lachlan. The essence of her power will soon fade.”
“Then we have no’ a moment to lose. Let’s show these bastards what a half-blood can do,” Lachlan jested in an attempt to cover his bitter disappointment, disheartened that he would soon lose the addictive freedom her power granted him.
Fallyn and her steed winged onto the battlefield. Catching Lachlan’s eye, she nodded. Evangeline was ready to transport into the palace. He frowned, halting midstride. “Are ye tellin’ me the power I’m imbued with is what Evangeline possesses?”
“Yes, but only a portion of it.”
“No wonder the woman’s so bloody arrogant.”
Broderick chuckled. “Frightening, isn’t it?”
“Bloody terrifyin’.”
Bellowing his clan’s battle cry, Lachlan with Broderick at his side charged into the melee outside the palace gates. Fighting back to back, they took on four warriors at a time. In the midst of battle, Lachlan searched for some sign Evangeline had retrieved Uscias. He caught Fallyn’s eye and she shook her head. Concerned too much time had passed, he was about to signal for Fallyn to go in when Magnus appeared in an explosion of light on the castle wall. The king of the Far North scanned the crowd beneath him.
When Magnus’s gaze landed on Lachlan, a triumphant smile creased his handsome visage. “I now hold
two
hostages, MacLeod. I think it’s time we negotiate, don’t you?”
Chapter 12
The ice-covered peaks warbled, fading in and out as Evangeline attempted to transport from the mountain’s ledge to Magnus’s palace. Something was wrong. She ignored the panicked gallop of her heart and dug deeper, only to find herself slammed against the thick, glittering white exterior wall of Magnus’s palace. Disoriented, she staggered to her feet, trying to understand what had gone wrong. She was certain it was not due to wards. Magnus did not have magick powerful enough to weave the spell, nor did he have a wizard to do so. And she was certain Uscias, knowing they would need to enter unnoticed, would not have aided his captor.
She groaned as the only viable explanation came to mind. Lachlan had stolen her magick. Perhaps not intentionally, but the result was the same. A sickening sense of dread welled inside her. He’d left her vulnerable. Uscias’s rescue was now at risk because she couldn’t resist the power of his seduction, the heat of his kiss, his tenderness. She’d lost the only thing that truly mattered to her—her magick, her ability to protect the Fae. Battling against despair, Evangeline pressed her fingers to her temples.
Think.
“All right, better,” she murmured as she thought through her options. All she had to do was get to Uscias without being found out. Lachlan had not drained her completely of her powers as he had the last time. Other than transportation, minor spells should not be a problem. Once she released Uscias, he could flash them both from the palace. She only hoped his injuries, if he’d sustained any, would not impact his powers.
From the front of the palace, Magnus’s warriors bellowed their battle cry and she put her worry over Uscias out of her mind, determined to take advantage of the opportunity. Pressing her back against the wall, she eased toward the edge of the building. Warriors flooded from the opened doors, charging the front gate. With a flick of her wrist, she outfitted herself in the same attire Magnus’s warriors wore—a long coat of matted brown fur with matching hat and boots.
Thankful that at least the low levels of her magick still worked, she stuffed her hair under the hat, feeling somewhat more confident. Tugging the cap lower to conceal her features, she bowed her head then swaggered around the corner to approach the front door.
Losing herself amongst the crowd, she managed to slip past the burly guard at the door.
Entering the palace, Evangeline tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, which was not difficult since those scurrying about the gleaming hall were too busy preparing for battle to notice her. A battle she tried not to think about as much as she tried not to worry about Lachlan. The thought brought her up short. She didn’t need to worry about him. He had her magick.
Certain they would hold Uscias in one of the four towers, she took the white marble staircase to the upper floor. Sprinting along the deserted corridors, she searched for stairs leading to the towers. As no guard stood before the first set she came to, she tried to find one which was fortified. With Lachlan and his army now past his first line of defense, she was confident Magnus would take no chances in guarding Uscias.
By the time she reached the fourth and last tower, she began to doubt herself. It was not a pleasant feeling. Therefore she was more than a little relieved when two warriors descended from the narrow enclosed stairwell.
She strode toward them. “The king requires your presence on the battlefield. I’m to replace you,” she said, almost choking with the effort to lower her voice.
The two men didn’t move. The taller of the pair narrowed his gaze on her. “He wouldn’t send a lad to replace us. Who—”
Knowing she had to act fast before their suspicions increased, she said, “Not worried about losing your heads, I see.” With a negligent shrug, she pivoted on her heel. “I’ll inform him of your—”
“No, we’ll go,” the taller man’s companion conceded, obviously not happy he had to leave the relative safety of the palace to face their enemies.
Evangeline took their place. Her stance was cocky as she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest and legs at her ankles for added effect. As soon as they were out of sight, she sprinted up the narrow staircase. At the landing, she faced a rough-hewn door, surprised to find it unlocked. She squared her shoulders, preparing to remain stoic no matter the condition she found Uscias in. Pushing the door open, she strode into the room.
Two guards sat to her left playing cards at a wooden table. The one closest to her twisted in his chair to regard her from beneath bushy auburn brows. “What are you doing up here? Where are Ivor and Eirik?”
She kept her gaze turned away from where Uscias—chained in irons—sat slumped in a chair to her right. “The king ordered them to the battlefield. You’re to replace them down below. Only one man is needed to guard the wizard,” she said, adding a swagger to her deepened voice.
Eyeing her suspiciously, the guard came to his feet. He loomed over her. “You’re unfamiliar to me.” He held a dagger and nudged her chin up with the blade. “Who—”
Jerking her head back, she brought her hand between them then aimed a shaft of magick at his chest. He staggered backward, collapsing on the floor. His companion shot to his feet and fired a bolt at her. She jumped aside, aiming another in his direction. He heaved the solid oak table on its end, deflecting her magick and then threw the table at her. Her cumbersome disguise hampered her movement and the table clipped her shoulder before she could get out of the way as it sailed past to hit the stone wall at her back. She rid herself of the heavy furs with a wave of her hand.
“They sent a woman, Olaf.” He laughed contemptuously, directing his comment to his companion who remained on the floor shaking off the effects of her magick.
“Imagine that, a helpless female,” she jeered, sidestepping the jagged bolt he fired at her. Pulling on her powers for all she was worth, she raised both hands, leveling the two of them with a steady stream of white light. The warrior, who’d been struggling to sit up, fell back. His companion joined him on the wood-planked floor. Wisps of smoke rose from the charred remains of their brown leather jerkins.
Tracing circles in the air, she attempted to bind them in irons. The chains rattled a few inches above the warriors, then fell with a ringing clatter on top of them. A frustrated growl vibrated in her throat. Her power was fading and she’d yet to free Uscias. She’d have to be content that the iron would drain them of their power while they remained unconscious.
She turned to Uscias, relieved to see his clear blue gaze upon her.
“What’s wrong with your magick, Evangeline?” His voice was weak but he showed no visible sign of injury.
“I’ll explain later. We don’t have much time before someone notices no one guards the stairs.” She flexed her fingers, preparing to remove his chains. “Once you’re free, will you be strong enough to transport us from here?”
“Not immediately. I’ll need time to recover.”
She’d been afraid of that. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get you out of here.” Focusing on the ropes of iron, she fired her magick directly at the links in an attempt to weaken them. They rattled and clinked, but nothing more. Drawing on the faint ball of white low in her belly, she pulled harder. This time there were faint pops. The chain loosened, hanging about Uscias’s diminutive form. One more time, she assured herself, that’s all it would take. She closed her eyes, refocusing her energy.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
 
 
The bastard had Evangeline. Lachlan fought to contain a surge of panic. Magnus had to be bluffing. There was no way in hell he could’ve got a hold of her. She was too powerful. Lachlan should know, since what little magick he’d retained from sharing her blood had left him feeling all but invincible.
As though Magnus read his thoughts, he looked over his shoulder. With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for someone behind him. Two warriors held a struggling Evangeline—hands behind her back—at a point where Lachlan could see her just beyond the closed golden gates.
“Your choice, MacLeod. Leave or negotiate.” Without awaiting his answer, Magnus vanished in a swirl of light, as did Evangeline.
Broderick, Gabriel, Shayla, and Fallyn pushed their way past the crush of warriors to come to his side. Lachlan motioned for Orin, a warrior of superior skills and one he trusted. “Take the men to the other side of the fjord and await us there. If anything untoward happens, I shall send you a signal.”
Orin nodded grimly, then set about doing as Lachlan commanded.
Lachlan looked to the gates as they squeaked open. “We’re coming with you,” Fallyn said, her expression daring him to argue.
“As are we,” Broderick said, edging past the two women.
Lachlan didn’t bother answering. He needed to get inside to see how Evangeline fared.
Her fury slammed into him the moment he entered Magnus’s grand hall. She sat to the left of the Fae king—a thin chain of iron at her neck, her hands obviously secured behind her back—at a long banquet table in the opulent hall. Her gaze met Lachlan’s, her lips twisting in a sneer. Her look of condemnation was directed at him.
Him?
Not the man who’d kidnapped both her and Uscias? Christ, ’twas no’ his fault she’d failed in her mission.
Magnus motioned congenially for Lachlan and his party to take a seat. “So glad you could join us. I might have taken offense had I not had the beauteous Evangeline to keep me company.” He drew a finger along her cheek, chuckling when she flinched.
Lachlan’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, wishing it was Magnus’s neck. If the bastard touched her again, it would be
.
To hell with the Faes’ rules of engagement.
He pulled out a chair and took a seat, catching Uscias’s attention from where his mentor sat on the other side of Evangeline. Uscias answered the silent question in Lachlan’s gaze with a shake of his head.
Good. He was unharmed.
Lachlan leaned back in the chair. “What do ye want, Magnus?”
“What I have wanted all along—ties to the Fae of the Enchanted Isles.”
“Why?”
“If I am allied with you, Dimtri will think twice before declaring all-out war on me in an attempt to steal my lands.”
“Ye expect me to believe that?” Lachlan scoffed. “Was it no’ ye and Dimtri who joined forces to attack us three years past?”
“Much has changed.” The golden-haired king studied his hands, then raised his gaze, “Dimtri can no longer be trusted. The time will come when all of us will have to take a stand against him.”
Lachlan raised a laconic brow. “So ye felt the best way to go aboot strengthenin’ our bonds was to kidnap Uscias and now Evangeline?”
“No, you forced my hand when you refused my sister in marriage.”
Evangeline hurled a contemptuous glare at Lachlan from across the table.
Wonderful.
Magnus had just confirmed her opinion of him. “I willna have my hand forced by ye or anyone else, Magnus.”
“Andras, bring Jorunn to the hall,” Magnus ordered one of his warriors. The muscle-bound man bore a striking resemblance to the king of the Far North. Lachlan deduced him to be Magnus’s brother.
“I have heard you are a connoisseur of women, MacLeod. I can assure you upon meeting my sister, the idea of marriage to her will not be a hardship.”
“I told ye ...” At the sight of the ethereal beauty who all but floated into their midst, Lachlan’s refusal stuttered to a halt in his throat. Andras guided her to Magnus’s side. With a furtive glance at Lachlan, Andras whispered something in her ear before retreating to the far wall.
The lass was nothing like Lachlan had expected. He’d assumed she’d be similar in stature and manner to her overbearing brother, but it was not the case. Diminutive in height and build, she looked as though a gust of wind would blow her over. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Broderick and Gabriel were as mesmerized by her beauty as he was.
Magnus patted the hand she clutched his shoulder with. “Don’t be shy, Jorunn. Greet our guests.”
Her knuckles whitened. She lifted startling blue eyes rounded with fear, her rosebud mouth quivering in her perfect heart-shaped face. “Hel ... lo,” she stammered.
Despite the evidence of womanly curves beneath the shimmering silver robes that matched the color of her long, unbound hair, Lachlan thought her to be more child than woman.
Not wishing to cause the lass further distress, he directed his question to her brother, “How old is yer sister?”
Magnus greeted his question with a self-satisfied smile, as though he believed Lachlan’s curiosity and the fact he did not reject the proposal outright after seeing Jorunn meant their betrothal was as good as done. Lachlan’s gaze slid to Evangeline. The tension bracketing the tight purse of her full lips confused him. He’d expected to see a smile as smug as Magnus’s. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted all along?
She raised her eyes to his and in that instant took him back to the cave and the fierce desire he’d felt for her—nothing like the tepid stirring in his loins when he looked upon Jorunn. No, Evangeline’s sultry beauty stirred in him a hot, hungry passion like no one else could. It consumed him, destroyed his carefully conceived defenses. He was bewitched by her, by her blood.

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