Warrior of the Isles (18 page)
Read Warrior of the Isles Online
Authors: Debbie Mazzuca
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ” Her voice was husky, thick with regret.
He waved off her apology. “'Tis naught but a scratch, I've received worse from Connor.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the lean, lanky lad standing alongside Fergus. It was a lie. No one other than Rory had ever bested him. “'Tis what I get fer no' bein' in shape. I've let my trainin' slide of late.”
She gave him a tight nod before she bent down to retrieve his tunic. He wasn't sure if she believed him or not. Worrying her full bottom lip between her teeth, she handed it to him.
“You should let Aileanna see to your wound,” she suggested quietly.
He sighed. “'Tis nothin'.” Remembering his plan, he grudgingly added, “You handle a sword well . . . fer a woman.”
She slanted him a look as they walked from the field, shaking her head. “And you fight well . . . for a man out of practice.”
Before he shot back a caustic retort, his cousin slapped him on the back, grinning like a fool. “Never did I think to see the day you'd be bested by a woman.” Aidan glanced at Syrena, but she was too busy accepting Aileanna and the demons' hearty congratulations to notice. “Ye tired me out, is all. Next time ye can fight her and we'll see how well ye fare.”
Rory laughed. “Nay, I'm no' daft. Aileanna tells me she leads a band of warrior women and they train daily. If they all handle a blade as well as Syrena, I don't doubt they win more than they lose.”
Aidan snorted, finding it difficult to believe the Fae men allowed their women to play at war. Especially Syrena's husband, the one he'd fought that day in the woods. He dragged his hand through his damp hair. Even now, feeling about her as he did, he could not control a flare of jealousy that she was another man's wife.
He shrugged into his tunic, meeting her worried gaze over the top of the snowy white fabric. “What?” he grumbled.
She waved her hand at his chest. “Let Aileanna see to your wound,” she said as she reached behind her to sheathe her sword. Aidan, unable to take his gaze from her full breasts straining against the fabric, didn't respond. His cousin nudged him.
“Don't worry, Syrena, I'll see to him when we get back to the keep whether he wants me to or not,” Aileanna promised with a determined look in her eyes.
“Mama, the monst . . . Uncle Aidan has blood on his tunic. Is he goin' to die?”
Aidan scowled at Jamie. The wee demon seemed delighted at the possibility, and Syrena shot a panicked look in his direction. He'd been made enough of a fool of for one day. The last thing he needed was two women fussing over a wee scratch in front of the men. He strode toward the keep, the thought of Syrena's hands upon his heated flesh causing him to quicken his pace.
An uncomfortable certainty that the concern in her eyes had not been an act grated on his conscience, but he reminded himself she was not to be trusted. He'd made that mistake before and look where it got him.
He didn't get far before he heard someone coming up from behind him. “Aidan, hold up a moment,” Syrena called to him.
Cursing under his breath, he turned to look at her. The anger that warred inside him must have shown on his face as her eyes widened and her step faltered. “What do ye want, Syrena?” He reined in his temper in an effort to keep his voice even.
“I . . . I just wanted to know when we would be leaving to look for Lan.”
The woman should be on the stage. “I'm expectin' a letter from my uncle any day now. Once it arrives, I'll have a better idea as to Lan's whereabouts.”
“Do you not think we should head directly to London instead of wasting our time here?” She kept pace with him, smiling when the bairns ran past screaming like a pair of banshees.
Certain no one had said anything about his brother being in London, Aidan clenched his hands, resisting the urge to shake the truth from her. He couldn't let her think he retained his suspicions. She'd slipped up, and if he remained patient, he'd soon discover where she'd taken his brother.
“Who said anything about Lachlan bein' in London?”
“I . . . I thought you did, but maybe I was mistaken and it was Aileanna.” She bowed her head, and he noted her flushed cheeks.
Liar. He swallowed hard, his control unraveling with each deceitful word she uttered. “'Tis a possibility we've considered, but until we ken fer certain, 'tis best to remain at Dunvegan.”
“But I thinkâ”
“What, Syrena, what do ye think?” No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to keep the desperation from his voice.
Her eyes shot to his. “I told you, I don't know where he is. I wish I did.”
Jamie tore through the trees and he jerked his gaze from hers. Tears tracked down the bairn's dirt-smudged cheeks, and his mouth worked soundlessly. “Jamie, lad.” Aidan crouched in front of him. “What's the matter?”
His wee face ghostly pale, he pointed to the woods behind him. “Alex,” he whimpered.
Syrena knelt beside the lad, drawing him into her arms. Her worried gaze met Aidan's. He unsheathed his sword and raced in the direction he'd last seen the bairns headed. A thunderous crash reverberated through the woods, setting off a riotous twittering from the birds as they flew from the tops of the trees to form an undulating black cloud.
Rory ran up behind him and they followed the sound. Moments later, they came upon a stag tearing the bark from a tree with its antlers. Aidan had never seen a buck as big or as enraged. And less than a foot from the beast, Alex lay on the ground.
Aidan grabbed his cousin's arm. If Rory went off halfcocked, he'd risk not only his own life, but his son's as well. Shaking his head, Aidan silently mouthed and gestured his instructions. He'd distract the stag, get it to come after him so Rory could safely retrieve Alex. Aidan shoved down the fear that they were already too late.
Rory nodded. Aidan took off in the opposite direction, making as much noise as he could. Over and over again, he slammed his sword against the base of an ancient oak. The stag tossed his massive head then swung his incensed gaze to Aidan. Pawing the ground, he charged.
“Aye, come on, ye big bastard.” He lifted his sword. “That's it, just a little further, come on, come on.” Intending on using the tree as a shield, Aidan took several steps to his right, cursing when his foot got tangled in the exposed roots of the tree.
Thrown off balance, he landed with a heavy thud. The ground vibrated beneath him as the beast bore down upon him. Struggling to untangle his foot, the animal was so close he could see the whites of its eyes. Cold sweat trickled down Aidan's spine. He could do little more than raise his sword and pray.
Thunk.
The rampaging beast crumpled to the ground. The tip of its antler brushed the sole of Aidan's boot. He blinked at the golden sword buried to its jeweled hilt in the stag's side.
Chapter 15
The sickly metallic scent of death permeated the air. Blood seeped in a relentless flow from the animal's ripped flesh to pool beneath it. Syrena staggered under the weight of her memories, the image of her deer lying dead at Aidan's feet. Her anguished gaze collided with his. A shadow darkened his gray eyes and she wondered if, like her, his thoughts had returned to that day in the pine-scented wood when he'd slaughtered her deer and crushed her heart.
A familiar ache tightened in her chest. Determined not to allow the moisture pooling in her eyes to escape, she squeezed them closed. Her deer and her love for Aidan had died a long time ago. This animal was nothing like her innocent pet. The enormous beast had hurt a child she cared about, and had come close to killing Aidan. Regardless of her feelings for the man, she couldn't have allowed that to happen.
“Thank ye, Syrena.” The deep timbre of Aidan's voice drew her from the dark depths of her memories. Grabbing hold of a branch, he drew himself to his feet. All the while he watched her, as though concerned for her well-being, but why would he be? He had made no secret he thought she was behind Lachlan's disappearance. Despite his recent attempt to pretend otherwise, he couldn't fool her. Adept at hiding her feelings, she was well able to recognize when another attempted to do so.
At the sound of heavy footfalls coming their way, Aidan drew his gaze from hers. Fergus and the boy Connor walked toward them. They looked from Syrena and Aidan to the dead animal, and their eyes widened.
Fergus scrubbed his auburn whiskers. “Neither of you were hurt?”
“Nay. Alex?” Although Aidan pretended indifference to the children, his worry over the little boy's condition was plain to see.
“It doesna' appear as though the buck touched him. Aileanna thinks he fell and hit his head. He's awake now. They've taken him back to the keep.”
Aidan released a heavy breath then nodded. “Good to hear.”
“I doona think I've ever seen a buck as big as this one.” Fergus thumped Connor on the back. “We've got our work cut out fer us, lad.”
“Are ye goin' to butcher him here?” Aidan asked, eyeing the animal.
“Aye, I'm no' goin' to try and drag a beast the size of this one out of here.”
Syrena swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She may not feel remorse for killing the animal, but that didn't mean she wanted to stand by and see it butchered. In her hurry to get away, the soft soles of her boots slid on a mound of pine needles, and she stumbled. Aidan grabbed hold of her arm before she fell.
His gaze searched her face. “Go back to the keep, Syrena. I'll bring ye yer sword.”
Considering how he felt about her, she didn't trust him with Nuie. No matter how hard it would be for her to retrieve her sword from the gaping wound, she said, “No, I will getâ”
He muttered something under his breath and strode to the animal. Fergus quirked a bushy auburn brow then stepped aside. Realizing what Aidan meant to do, Syrena quickly turned away. They talked quietly behind her then Aidan returned to her side.
He placed his big hand at the small of her back. The warmth from his palm penetrated the sheer fabric of her shirt. She was surprised he still had the power to ease her distress, make her feel protected simply by touching her. It was not a discovery that pleased her, and she stepped away from him.
“Come, I'll walk ye back.”
“Thank you, but I can manage on my own.” She glanced down and noted he carried both swords in his left hand. She reached for Nuie, grateful he'd thought to wipe the blade clean.
His lips set in a grim line, he handed her back her sword. “Nay, start walkin' ”
She huffed an exasperated breath. She needed to put some distance between them. “You obviously don't believe me, Aidan, but I am as concerned for Lachlan's well-being as you are. I'm not going to run away.”
Raising a dark brow, he looked down at her. “Run? Nay, I didna think ye'd run. Use yer magick and disappear mayhapâthat I did consider.”
She sighed. “I can't do magick. Well . . . I can, but I'm not very good at it.”
He looked startled by her admission. Taking hold of her arm, he forced her to stop walking. “Why?”
With his body so close to hers, his familiar scent overwhelmed her senses. It took a moment before she was able to answer him, “I'm not certain. Although when I was a child, some said I had been cursed, or that an illness had stolen my powers. My mother protected me from those that feared the sickness, the ones that called for my death. She said I was simply a late bloomer, and spent hours working with me until we perfected a charade wherein she would do the magick but all would believe it was me.”
She smiled at the memory. No one had ever made her feel as loved or as cherished as her mother. She slanted a sidelong glance at the man standing deep in thought beside her. That wasn't completely true. There was a time when he had.
With a dismissive shrug, as though the dull ache radiating from her heart didn't matter, she continued, “A year later, when I was called before the council to prove my abilities, no one doubted I could do magick. My mother and I continued the charade until she . . . fade . . . faded.” Syrena stumbled over the word.
Even after all these years it was difficult to believe her mother had left her. Syrena's grief was as strong now as it had been on the day her father had cruelly informed her of her mother's passing, leaving little doubt he blamed her for Helyna's death. To this day, she didn't understand what she'd done wrong. Why her mother would have taken her life.
“Evangeline, my handmaiden, took my mother's place. But then she left me, too.” Syrena hadn't meant for it to sound as pitiful as it did. She didn't blame Evangeline, understood why she had to abandon her, but it didn't make it any less painful.
“Who protects ye now?”
She blinked, startled by the harsh edge in his gruff voice. “My friend Fallyn and her sisters, but I really don't need protection anymore. I can take care of myself.”
“Aye, I'd forgotten. Ye're a warrior now.”
He mocked her with his words, yet his tone was somehow gentle and it pricked her pride. “Yes, I am.”
Rubbing a hand along the dark stubble of his jaw, he said, “So, ye didna use magick when ye fought me.”
“No, I already told you that. Besides, I didn't need to.” Maybe that would wipe the arrogant look from his face.
“I admit ye're skilled with a sword, Syrena, but if ye canna kill a buck without near faintin', ye canna expect me to believe ye could kill a mon.”
Her temper simmered just below the surface, and she glared up at him. “I don't condone violence. I avoid killing whenever I can, but that doesn't make me any less a warrior than you. But just so you know, I have killed before, and my reaction had nothing to do with killing that creature.”
Rising up on the tips of her toes, she stabbed her finger in his chest. “I was thinking about my deer if you must knowâa poor innocent creature that you slaughtered because she meant something to me! Because you found out who I was and hated me so much you took it out on her!” The torrent of words rushed from her. She welcomed the release, the chance to confront him.
Before she could contain them, hot tears burned a path down her cheeks. He lifted his hand then jerked it away. “Nay, 'twas an accident, Syrena. I meant to wound Magnus, to stop him from takin' ye from m . . . to stop him from takin' ye.” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “I didna see the doe. She was behind ye, and then ye disappeared and . . ”
As though she were there, she remembered the shuffling sound behind her, the gentle nudge of her deer's warm wet nose against her hand just before Magnus transported her from the woods. Aidan spoke the truth, but it was difficult for her to hear. She'd used the murder of her pet as proof he wasn't worthy of her love. That a man who could harm an innocent creature out of vengeance had no place in her heart, that he wasn't the man she thought him to be. Now that she knew the truth, the walls she'd built around her heart started to crumble. Her vulnerability frightened her.
“Speakin' of yer husband, should we be expectin' him to come to yer rescue?”
“Husband? Why would you think I married Magnus?”
His brow furrowed, and an emotion she couldn't deduce flickered in his eyes. “He said ye were his betrothed.”
“I refused his suit.”
He quirked a brow as though he didn't believe her. “He didna appear to be someone who would take rejection well.”
“He didn't. He led an army against us. It was my first battle,” she admitted. They'd been lucky that in his arrogance Magnus had not felt it necessary to bring a full contingent of warriors. With the odds ten to one in Syrena's favor, the battle had not been as deadly as it might have been.
Guilt niggled at the back of her mind when she recalled the beating Aidan had received at Magnus's hand. The memory of his bruised and battered body still had the power to make her stomach turn. “I'm sorry you suffered because of me, Aidan. I never meant for you to be hurt.”
Whatever warmth she'd thought she'd seen in his eyes vanished. “Ye think I suffered on account of ye, Syrena? Nay, I would've had to feel somethin' fer ye fer that to happen. Believe me, the only thing I felt was relief to have ye out of our lives fer good. Yet here ye stand.” His full upper lip curled in contempt.
She willed away the sharp stab of pain that cut through her at his words. He said nothing she didn't already know. The earlier concern she thought she'd seen in his eyes must have been nothing more than pity. “Thank you, it's always best to know where one stands with one's enemy. But just so you are aware, my apology was for the beating you received at Magnus's hands, nothing more. Believe
me
, this is the last place I want to be, and the sooner we find Lachlan, the better.”
me
, this is the last place I want to be, and the sooner we find Lachlan, the better.”
“At last, something we agree upon. So why doona ye just return him to me, then?”
She gritted her teeth. “Because. I. Don't. Have. Him! How often must I repeat myself before it penetrates your thick skull?”
“Let that be a lesson to ye, Syrena, 'tis difficult to trust a liar. But I suppose ye canna help yerself. Ye're Fae, after all.”
“And you are a foolish Mortal! You know nothing about my people to make such a statement. Your irrational hatred of the Fae is going to get
my
brother killed!” Furious, she pivoted on her heel, then shot contemptuously over her shoulder, “A brother, who need I remind you, is half-Fae!”
my
brother killed!” Furious, she pivoted on her heel, then shot contemptuously over her shoulder, “A brother, who need I remind you, is half-Fae!”
The man was infuriating. She didn't need him. She'd find Lan on her own. How could her brother bear to live with a man who so obviously hated a part of who he was? After that day in the woods, she'd given up her father's quest. But she'd never given up on Lachlan, never stopped loving him or wanting him in her life. And now she was more certain than ever he'd be happier with her than with his beast of a brother.
At the thought of bringing Lachlan back to the Enchanted Isles to live with her, she smiled. But her bubble of optimism quickly burst when a vision of her stepmother came to mind. And it was not only Morgana she would have to contend with, but all the women of the Isles. Lachlan's presence in the Enchanted realm would not be well received. As Syrena considered the plight of the men that remained in the Isles, she realized Morgana had gone too far, and once she returned with Lan, changes would need to be made.
Aidan slowed his pace as he neared the dais. Syrena sat between the bairns, the two of them vying for her attention while their parents looked on with amusement. Bloody hell, what was wrong with his family that they embraced the woman so easily? She was Fae, and if that wasn't enough, she was behind his brother's disappearance. No one could convince him otherwise, no matter how hard they tried.
He'd questioned Fergus, Rory, and Aileanna, and none of them had made mention to Syrena of their suspicions that Lan had gone missing in London. Yet that was the exact location
she
had thought they should search for him, and it was all the proof he needed.
she
had thought they should search for him, and it was all the proof he needed.
The accusations she'd hurled at him as she walked away still rang in his head, and he fought the urge to confront her. Who did she think she was to comment on his feelings for his brother? She wasn't the one who'd spent the better part of her life protecting him.
He winced when he pulled out the chair between Fergus and Alex, the wound in his chest protesting the movement. He greeted Fergus then turned his attention to the bairn at his left. “Ye made a quick recovery, Alex, ye're a true MacLeod.” The lad was a bit peaked, but otherwise looked none the worse for wear.
“Princess Syrena saved me,” the bairn sighed, regaining some of his color as he beamed at his savior. A savior who looked every inch the princess in a pale blue gown shot through with silver.
Aidan bristled. “Well, ye ken, Alex, I did play a part in yer rescue.” He felt the need to point that out.
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