Authors: Debbie Mazzuca
King of the Isles (25 page)
Lachlan gave her a knowing smile, then waved his hand toward the dome, throwing them into complete darkness. She stumbled and he wrapped an arm around her waist. With a lift of his hand, the heavy air rippled. Pillared candles appeared along the edges of the pool, casting the room in a soft glow.
“If ’twill make ye feel better, I’ll close my eyes until ye’re in the water. As long as ye’re sure ye’re no’ too weak to do so on yer own.”
“I can manage,” she said, waiting for him to close his eyes. She raised a brow when he failed to do so. He sighed, then closed them.
Removing her gown while keeping a watchful eye on Lachlan, she let it puddle at her feet then stepped carefully onto the smooth steps. The waters lapped gently against her legs. A moan of pleasure escaped her as the farther she stepped into the pool, the farther the delicious warmth enveloped her. As she neared the center of the pool, she could no longer touch the bottom and dipped beneath the water to swim to the far side. A ledge jutted out midway down the granite wall, forming a bench, and she sat down, immersed to her neck. Her hair swirled in ropy tendrils around her. Confident she was well concealed, she called to Lachlan, “You can ...” She released an exasperated groan when she looked up and saw the heat in his eyes, the sensual curve of his lips. “You said you would keep your eyes closed.”
“I did, but ye moaned and I was worried aboot ye.”
“I did no such thing,” she protested, lowering her eyes from the intensity in his.
“Aye, ye did. Evie.” He waited until she lifted her gaze back to his. “Ye have nothin’ to be ashamed of, lass. Ye’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
Considering the number of women Lachlan had undoubtedly seen naked, Evangeline supposed she should be flattered, but the thought of the days he’d spent womanizing tempered her pleasure.
“Ye doona have to close yer eyes, Evie. I’m no’ shy,” he said, then flicked his finger.
He stood naked on the top step and her jaw dropped. His masculine beauty stole her breath away. Framed in ambient light, his magnificent warrior’s body appeared cast in gold, the thick length of his manhood jutting proudly from a thatch of golden curls between his muscular thighs. She quickly jerked her gaze back to his face, rolling her eyes when he flashed his perfect white teeth in a conceited smile.
With a low chuckle, he dove beneath the water. She drew in a startled gasp when he broke through the surface inches from where she sat. Water dripped from his hair, rolling down the broad expanse of his chest to his hard-ridged belly. As though he could see beneath the water, his gaze raked her body and she shivered. He smoothed his palms over the water and tiny bubbles formed on the surface, the temperature of the pool rising.
“Better?” he asked, the muscles in his arms rippling as he raised his hands to slick his hair from his face.
“Yes. Thank you,” she murmured, finding it difficult to speak at the close proximity of his naked body. He reached for something behind her, his arm brushing her shoulder. The contact of their naked flesh sent a heated charge through her and she jumped.
“Doona be nervous, Evie. No matter how much I want ye, and I do, ye’re no’ yet recovered.” He held up a bar of soap. “I’m goin’ to wash yer hair fer ye.”
She touched the tangled mess on her head. “It’s all right, I can ...”
“Nay, let me do this fer ye.” He sat beside her, tugging her onto his lap.
Her eyes widened at the evidence of his desire, hot and hard beneath her bottom.
Grinning, he shrugged. “Ye’ll have to ignore him. Now lie back and relax,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
She did as he suggested. The warm water lapped at her face and her breasts bobbed above the water, the cool air causing her nipples to tighten. Self-consciously she brought her arm over her chest, squirming beneath the intensity of his gaze.
“I’m havin’ a difficult enough time without ye movin’ aboot like that. Stay still.”
His hard length jerked beneath her and her belly clenched, a liquid heat building between her thighs. A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw as he lathered her hair with soap. She inhaled the floral scent, closing her eyes as she tried to ignore the desire he ignited in her. His strong fingers kneaded her scalp and she couldn’t contain a groan of pleasure. Enthralled by his tender ministrations, she went limp, her arm falling to her side. He smoothed his palm over her hair, dipping her head beneath the water. She arched her back. He cursed softly, and she opened her eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze.
His big hands spanned her waist as he lifted her onto his lap, turning her to face him. Nudging her thighs apart, he had her straddle him, the length of his erection pressed against her womanhood. With one hand at her back, he watched her as he brought the soap to her breasts. Lathering her chest and belly with sensuous care, he massaged the creamy suds into her breasts. Her breath hitched at the erotic sensations cascading through her body. She bit her lip before she embarrassed herself by begging him to make love to her. Cupping the water in his hand, he rinsed her off, then drew her to his chest. He stroked his slick hands over her back down to her bottom. She couldn’t stand it any longer and rubbed shamelessly against him, anything to rid herself of the deep gnawing ache at the apex of her thighs.
“Christ, ye’re goin’ to drive me mad, love.” He tangled his hand in her hair and gently tipped her head back to claim her mouth in a hot, all-consuming kiss. Bringing both hands to her bottom, he rocked his erection against her slick opening, his groan filling her mouth.
“Tell me, Evie, tell me ye want me as much as I want ye. Tell me ye need me as much as I need ye.”
She speared her fingers through his damp hair, dragging his lips back to hers. “Yes, I want you. I need you,” she said, showing him how much with her kiss.
A loud crash reverberated through the bathing chamber, the doors shuddering on their hinges. Lachlan drew his mouth from hers. His expression hardened at the shouts of anger coming from his room.
He slid her carefully from his arms then came swiftly to his feet. “Stay here,” he ordered. As though aware his tone had been harsh, he brought his hand to her cheek before crossing to the other side of the pool. He bounded up the stone steps and grabbed a length of plaid from a hook on the wall. Wrapping it around his waist, he wrenched the door open.
Huddled beneath the water, Evangeline saw the royal guards trying to subdue a man before the door slammed behind Lachlan. She knew without seeing him who it was. Lord Erwn had come seeking retribution for his brother’s death. The two men had been close and she was almost certain Erwn would challenge Lachlan. What if the sword Bana had crafted was only one of many, and on at least one, his attempt to create a magickal weapon had succeeded? A hundred different scenarios clamored for attention in her mind, each more deadly than the last. She swam to the opposite side and grabbed Lachlan’s robe from the second hook. Wrapping it tightly around her, she rolled up the sleeves, glad for its length as it fell to her feet. In hopes that her magick had returned, she concentrated on the glass dome and waved her hand.
Nothing.
But Erwn didn’t know she was without her magick. His fear of her had been readily apparent whenever they had crossed paths in the past. She’d use that to her advantage now. And as there was a possibility Erwn had managed to turn the royal guards against her husband, she had no intention of letting Lachlan face them alone.
She’d use their fear of her against them all.
Chapter 23
Lachlan studied the faces of the men who held Erwn for some sign they conspired against him. Nothing in their expressions caused him to doubt their loyalty—not yet.
“Bastard, you killed my brother!” Erwn spat out, fighting the men who restrained him.
Padding across the cold marble floor, Lachlan grabbed his sword and jerked his chin in Erwn’s direction. “Release him.”
“But, Your Highness ...” the head guard began.
“I appreciate yer concern, but I’d rather deal with him now.” And he wanted the opportunity to observe his guards’ reactions.
Erwn shook off the men’s hands. Smoothing out the creases in his dark robes with jerky movements, he raised his grief-stricken gaze to Lachlan’s. “You couldn’t wait for the challenge, could you? You had to lure him to the woods and ambush him.”
Lachlan felt a measure of sympathy for Erwn. He’d lost his brother. Lachlan didn’t want to think how he’d feel if something had happened to Aidan. But for all he knew, Erwn had been aware of his brother’s plan to kill Evangeline. And if Lachlan found out he’d had even an inkling of what Bana meant to do, nothing would keep him from slaying the man there and then.
“I killed your brother while defending my wife. I would’ve preferred to fight him on the lists where all could bear witness to the outcome. But he’d lured Evangeline to the woods with the intention of killing her.” His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword at the memory of his wife lying soaked with blood on the moss-covered ground. He vanquished the image and the horror that had accompanied it with an image of her in his arms only moments ago. Her beautiful flushed face and her warm lush curves filling his hands. If not for Erwn, he’d be inside her now.
The door to the bathing chambers opened, and Evangeline, in his white robe, stepped out.
“Bitch!” Erwn snarled and lunged in her direction.
Lachlan cursed, hurling himself between Erwn and his wife, who’d once again disobeyed him. He fisted his hand in Erwn’s robes, shoving him into the circle of waiting guardsmen. Lachlan scowled at Evangeline, who stared Erwn down with a look of icy disdain. His bonny wife didn’t fool him, he’d seen the fear in her eyes. Before he could order her back into the bathing chambers, Erwn managed to break free of his guards.
“Doona even think aboot it,” Lachlan warned, slapping the flat of his blade against Erwn’s chest.
“You would listen to her, your father’s whore? You’re a bigger fool than I thought, MacLeod. Even Arwan knew better than to keep the conniving, evil bitch in his bed for long. All she’s ever wanted is to rule the Isles. She uses you as she once used your father.”
Lachlan managed to hide his shock at Erwn’s slanderous words, but not his fury. He grabbed Erwn by the throat and squeezed. “No’ another word against my wife. I was there. Yer brother would’ve killed her if I hadn’t been.” He only released his hold when the man appeared ready to lose consciousness. Erwn stumbled away, gasping for air.
“If ye wish to challenge me over yer brother’s death, do so. I welcome the opportunity to kill ye. Otherwise, ye have until nightfall to leave the Enchanted Isles. Consider yerself lucky I give ye a choice—I ken ye were part of the conspiracy to overthrow me. Take him out of my sight before I withdraw my offer,” he ordered his guards. “Escort him from the Isles or keep him under guard until the challenge. On the morrow at dawn, Erwn.”
“I’m leaving the Isles. But mark my words, one day you’ll pay for what you did to my brother.” He shot a scathing look at Evangeline, who’d taken a seat in the armchair beside the door to the bathing chambers, her delicate features pale and drawn. “Both of you will.”
“Doona give me cause to change my mind, Erwn.” If the man threatened Evangeline again, Lachlan vowed to see him dead before sunset. The only thing that stayed his hand now was the fact Erwn was distraught with grief and the knowledge he was the weaker of the two brothers and never would’ve acted on his own.
The guards hustled him out the door and Lachlan turned to his wife. Crossing to her side, he crouched before her. “If ye woulda done as I asked, ye never woulda had to listen to the vile lies Erwn spewed.”
Her gaze averted from his, she twisted her hands in his robe. Lachlan slowly came to his feet, an uneasy feeling building inside him.
Sweet Christ, it can’t be true.
A heavy sense of foreboding settled over him. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me the bastard lied when he said ye’d been my father’s who—ye’d been with my father.” Simply saying the words caused his gorge to rise. An interminable silence stretched between them, straining the tension in his body to the breaking point. “I will have the truth, Evangeline!” he shouted at the woman who’d battered down his defenses and wormed her way into his heart.
She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushed. “He didn’t lie.”
His head spun at her admission, the realization she’d deceived him. She’d been manipulating him all along, using him. The heat of his fury hazed his vision. He caged her in, wrapping his hands so tight around the wooden armrests they cracked beneath the pressure of his fingers. “Did it amuse ye, Evangeline, to think of fuckin’ the son as ye’d once fucked his father? Were ye goin’ to compare our skills in the bedchamber?”
He ignored her shocked gasp, the hurt that shadowed her eyes at his crude remark. Fisting his hands in the edges of his robe, he dragged her to her feet. The plush fabric fell open, revealing a body so perfect it was no wonder she could use it as a weapon—bringing men to their knees, manipulating them to do her bidding.
He raked her with a disgusted look, keeping his gaze from her moisture-filled eyes. “If I’d kent ye were a whore and no’ the innocent ye led me to believe, I would no’ have waited to fuck ye.” He shoved her away from him. Even though she’d used him, he still wanted her. The heavy weight between his legs throbbed and he knew he had to get out of there before he did something he’d regret.
He strode to the oak wardrobe and grabbed a tunic. Jerking it over his head, he belted his plaid. He sat on the edge of the bed and tugged on his doeskin boots, trying not to look at her. But no matter how hard he tried, his eyes sought her out. She looked small and vulnerable curled up in the big leather chair, her arms wrapped about her. He slammed down the urge to go to her, questioned his sanity that he was tempted to do so.
“I’m goin’ to Lewes. I want ye gone from here when I return.”
“If you would give me something to wear, I will leave now,” she said with quiet dignity.
Lachlan cursed. He had her bloody magick. No matter that she’d deceived him, he couldn’t send her from his chambers without clothing or the ability to defend herself. Even with Bana dead and Erwn banished from the Isles, he couldn’t be sure someone else didn’t wish her harm.
Christ, why the hell do I still care what happens to her?
“Ye’ll remain here until ye recover.” He rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tension there, then closed his eyes. He jerked his hand in her direction. At her startled gasp, he cracked one eye open.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered upon seeing her naked body. He tried again, this time shutting out the image of her luminescent skin and womanly curves as he did so.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He cursed himself for the idiot that he was when he saw the gown he’d dressed her in. The silken fabric in the same shade as her eyes with its low draped neckline only served to heighten her allure.
“Where do ye think ye’re goin’?” he growled when with familiar grace she walked to the door with her head held high.
“I’m leaving as you asked me to. I don’t wish to damage your lily-white reputation with my soiled one.”
“Doona try to turn this on me.” He backed her against the door. “Ye admitted ye slept with my father, do ye deny it now?” Hope rose within him. He’d never wanted to be proven wrong so much as he did now.
“No.”
“Tell me why.”
Her breath, warm and sweet, caressed his cheek, drawing him to her, intoxicating him. He twisted his fingers in her silken mane and inhaled the scent of the soap he’d lathered in her long, luxurious tresses, over her full breasts and taut belly, her firmly rounded behind.
“Why should I? You have already condemned me.”
“Yer actions condemn ye, no’ me.”
“Do they? I saved your life. I have only ever sought to protect you. Are those the actions you speak of?” She held his gaze. “I thought you were different from the others. You said you trusted me.”
He removed his fingers from her hair and backed away, the urge to kiss the hurt from her eyes too strong. He needed answers. There was something she held back. He could see it in her expression, hear it in her voice. Yet she wanted him to trust her, accept her without telling him what she kept from him. He couldn’t. Syrena was the one person he could depend on to tell him what he needed to know.
Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to his bed, jerking the covers back before he laid her down. “I want ye to remain here until I return from Lewes. Ye’re in danger without yer magick and ’tis my fault.”
“Why do you go to Lewes?”
“To see Syrena. I need answers and I’m no’ gettin’ them from ye.”
She averted her gaze from his and stared at the great oak outside his window, the branches scraping against the glass in a mournful cry. He waited, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary for him to go, but she remained stubbornly reticent.
He turned and walked to the door. She stopped him just before he stepped from the room. “Syrena can’t tell you what you need to hear. No one knows me like you do, Lachlan. I thought you cared about me, but if you did, you would already know the truth.”
Closing the door quietly behind him, he strode through the corridor, ignoring the dull ache in his chest. By the time he reached his home on Lewis, he was about crazed with his need to speak to Syrena.
He met Gavin in the courtyard. His brother’s red-haired friend surveyed him with a gimlet eye. “What’s the matter with ye? Ye look like ye have a thundercloud hangin’ over yer heed.”
“I’m no’ in the mood. Where’s Syrena?”
“Where do ye think she is, ye big lummox?”
“Gavin,” he snarled.
“Och, well, she’d be at Dunvegan.”
Lachlan blew out a frustrated breath. Of course, she’d be at Rory’s. Aidan wouldn’t have allowed her and the bairns to travel yet.
“Unless ye’re thinkin’ of swimmin’ across the Minch, ye’ll have to wait until they return. The galley—”
Lachlan flashed to Rory’s home on Skye. As he wrenched open the castle doors, Alex and Jamie barreled past him. His brother stormed after them without so much as a glance in his direction.
“Lachlan?” Aileanna frowned, coming from the grand hall with a plate in her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to speak with Syrena,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time. “’Tis important.”
“I can see that. She just got the babies to sleep, so be quiet about it.”
Praying he met no one else, he strode down the long corridor to Syrena’s room. He groaned when Rory hailed him outside her chambers.
“Lachlan, ’tis glad I am to see you.” His cousin slung a companionable arm over his shoulder. “Come join me in the hall.”
“Yer father-by-marriage is here, isna he?”
Rory dropped his arm from Lachlan’s shoulder and grunted. “Aye, how did ye ken?”
“ ’Cause ye’re always lookin’ fer someone to deflect his attention from ye when he’s aboot. Why do ye no’ just ask yer wife to do it?”
“A lot of good—”
“MacLeod, where did ye get to?”Alasdair shouted from down below.
Lachlan ducked into Syrena’s room before his cousin could stop him. Syrena sat in a chair with one foot rocking the cradle in front of her. Pressing a finger to her lips, she stood and leaned over to check on the sleeping bairns before tiptoeing across the room to him.
She reached up to kiss his cheek, her brow furrowing when she got a good look at him. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
“Evangeline.”
She clutched his arm. “Is she all right?”
“Aye, but Bana tried to kill her.”
“Come, we’ll go to Ali’s solar.” Closing the door behind her, she said, “Now tell me what happened.”
By the time they reached Aileanna’s solar, Lachlan had filled Syrena in on the morning’s events. She led him into the sun-filled room. “There’s something more, isn’t there?” She patted a spot beside her on the chaise.
“Aye. When Erwn found out about Bana’s death, he blamed Evangeline. He accused her of bein’ my father’s who—mistress and manipulatin’ me as she once had Arwan in her bid to take over the Enchanted Isles.”
“You believed him, didn’t you?”
“She admitted it, Syrena.”
She sagged against the bolster and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, sorrow shimmered in her golden gaze. “She hated him, you know. I didn’t realize how much until the day Arwan was murdered.” Syrena plucked at the folds of her pink gown. “I wondered at the time if she’d been the one to kill him.” Shaking her head as if the memory was too painful to bear, she rose from the settee and went to stand by the window. “It was obvious Arwan was enamored with Evangeline. He did little to conceal his lust for her even though he was wed. Morgana hated her, even before she found out she was Andora’s daughter. She was jealous of Evangeline’s beauty and the attention her husband paid to her.”
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