Love Beyond Words: Book 9 of Morna’s Legacy Series

by Bethany Claire

  “But soon after, two more went missing, and their parents believed the same as the first. In an effort to stop the rising panic amongst the people of this village, Nicol went in search of the fae, and much to his misfortune, he found them.”

  I shivered as another chill swept through me. Acknowledging that magic time travel existed was one thing. Learning that ghosts and fairies existed was another. It seemed the world I’d spent most of my life living in was more sheltered than I’d realized.

  “He found them here? On the isle?”

  Raudrich nodded and pulled me in a little closer.

  “Aye. All faeries are manipulative and selfish creatures. Ye canna trust a one of them, but Machara is worse than most. She yearned for a child—a half-human child—of her own. She captured the children of this village to lure Nicol away from the castle so she could strike a bargain with him: the safe return of the children she took for a night in his arms so she could have his child. It was a mistake he made in a moment and one that has placed a darkness over his entire life.”

  I twisted to look at Raudrich.

  “She broke her bargain?”

  “’Tis the way of faeries. They only keep their word to a degree. Machara returned the children, but they were not as they were. When they returned to their parents’ doorsteps, they were older than their parents. For time doesna work the same in the land of the fae, and ye never know just how it shall ruin ye. Some men return to find they’ve stayed the same, but hundreds of years have passed. For the stolen children of this isle, their childhood was taken from them in the week they were gone.”

  “Oh, my God. Their poor parents.”

  “Aye. Many families fled here in response. They feared the same fate for their own children, and Nicol couldna blame them.”

  It was one of the saddest stories I’d ever heard, but it still didn’t explain Freya’s fate.

  “And where does Freya come in?”

  “Freya wouldna enter Nicol’s life for another five years. Ye see, Machara loved the child she had with Nicol, and each year she would return to lie with him again. There are many tales of faerie lying with mortal men, but more often than not, ’tis the mortal that would be ruined with unquenchable lust and yearning for what they wished they could have but couldna—the love of the fae who used them.

  “As with most things, Machara was different. She has never followed the patterns of most fae. Nicol stayed indifferent to her, and slowly over the years as Machara bore more of his children—children he’s never seen nor loved—she fell in love with him.

  “Despite his annual obligations to Machara, Nicol believed himself a free man. During a short journey off the isle, he met and fell in love with Freya. Unaware of the doom it would bring them both, he married her before returning home. When Machara learned of Nicol’s new wife, she went mad with jealousy.

  “She confessed her love to Nicol and promised to forgive his trespass if he sent Freya away, but Nicol’s love for Freya knew no bounds. He defied Machara and fled the isle with her.

  “They spent five years away. They were the only happy years of Nicol’s life. It was through his travels and his studies that he discovered a way to defeat Machara—it was how he came to form The Eight.

  “Fae magic is stronger than that of any one witch or druid. Nicol learned that it would take many—the magic of eight—to cast the spell that would bind Machara for eternity. He and Freya traveled throughout Scotland gathering druid men young and old who were willing to pledge their loyalty and magic to him. I was among the first as were Harry, Maddock, Timothy, and Quinn. Ludo, Calder, and Paton joined us later after three of the original eight passed away.

  “We practiced the spell for months before returning with him to the isle, for we all knew the spell would have to be cast almost immediately if we were to avoid Machara’s wrath. We all urged him to leave Freya on the mainland until Machara was safely bound in her cell below the castle, but he couldna bear to leave her. He regrets that decision every single day.”

  I could no longer peel my eyes away from Nicol and Freya down below us. Their story was unlike anything I’d ever heard in my life.

  “So what happened when you got here?”

  “Machara saw us coming and waited on the front steps of the castle, the lifeless bodies of each child she bore with Nicol laid out beside her. She hoped their death would riddle Nicol with guilt for abandoning her, but the children were inhuman things, beings he’d never known nor wanted. He felt nothing save relief that they’d not grow up to turn into beings as evil as their mother.

  “His lack of emotion sent Machara into a rage, giving us just enough time to cast the spell as she lost her mind in a fit of screams and roars unlike anything I’d ever seen in my life. The spell worked, but not before Machara had time to do one last act of violence upon Nicol’s life. She killed Freya by running her through with the sword she drew from Nicol’s sheath. Just as Freya breathed her last breath, Machara cursed her to endure the state she is in now. It was the last thing Machara was able to do before our spell was finished and bound.”

  Raudrich drew in a sad, deep breath. It was clear that even telling the story exhausted him.

  “For the past twenty years, Machara has remained locked away deep below this castle. As long as there are eight druids with their magic bound here, she canna escape. ’Tis why it is so urgent that we find another to replace Timothy, and why it is even more distressing that Calder has left us. Our magic is stretched until Timothy is replaced. If Calder finds a way to sever his tie with this isle, Machara may find the strength to break free.”

  Just as Raudrich finished his story, the sound of laughter, dark and sinister, traveled up through the floor beneath us.

  “’Tis her, lass. ’Tis her dungeon that I meant when I said I must take ye somewhere ye willna wish to go. If ye want to know the truth of all of it, ’tis time for ye to meet Machara.”

  Chapter 24

  Calder had been right about the smell in the storage room. I knew it the moment Raudrich opened the secret passageway in Nicol’s room and we stepped into the dimly lit stairwell. It hadn’t been the smell of rotten food. It was the smell of very angry faerie.

  Lit candles lined the steps downward, but they cast an otherworldly green glow that should’ve been impossible through normal fire.

  “Best ye breathe it in, lass. Ye will grow accustomed to it sooner that way. While I know ’tis foul, it willna harm ye.”

  I could scarcely bring my feet to move. Terror gripped at my every limb. I couldn’t see her, and despite the fact that she was no longer laughing, I could feel her hatred in every nerve ending in my body. I grabbed at Raudrich as he stepped away and down one step.

  “Wait. Raudrich, I don’t think this is a good idea. She doesn’t like women here, right? That’s what Calder told Harry when he invited Marcus and me inside. Won’t her seeing me make her even angrier?”

  Raudrich’s gaze was sympathetic as he turned toward me, but I could tell by the firm set of his feet that he had no intention of returning to Nicol’s room.

  “I should’ve been honest with ye, lass. I doona only wish to bring ye down here so ye might believe me. There is another reason, as well.”

  “Which is?”

  He leaned in to whisper into my ear so quietly, even I had to strain to hear him.

  “There is a reason Machara doesna wish for another woman to enter Nicol’s home. Even in her anger, even in her rage, she pines for him still. She knows he can no longer touch Freya, no longer hold her and make love to her, so Freya is no longer a threat to her. But another woman, one that is still alive, just might be. If we can convince Machara that ye are not Nicol’s and never shall be, perhaps we can prevent her from trying to harm ye while ye are here.”

  Even as frightened as I was, it hadn’t occurred to me that she could actually cause me any real harm.

  “Can she do that? Doesn’t your magic keep her from doing harm to anyone?”

  He too
k a deep breath. It did nothing to ease my worry.

  “Until this morning, I would’ve said no. I would’ve been certain that she couldna do anything from her cell, but everything is different now that The Eight is no longer complete.” He hesitated and looked regretful. “Lass, Maddock told me what happened today with Calder. While I’ll make no excuses for what he said, he was right that the odor ye smelled was not from food.”

  I interrupted him. I didn’t want to think on that moment a second longer.

  “I know. The smell down here is the same.”

  He nodded. “Aye, and ’tis the first time such an incident has occurred. It means that her power has strengthened, and there is no way for us to know just how much.”

  I suddenly felt very willing to go along with whatever Raudrich needed me to do. I had no desire to be the target of an evil faerie’s ill will.

  “So how do we convince her that I have no interest in Nicol?”

  He smiled. By the glint in his eye, I knew what he would say even before he said it.

  “By convincing her ye belong to another.”

  * * *

  It was a rotten thing to put the lass through, but it truly was the only thing he could think of to keep her safe, and he was determined to do anything to do just that.

  “Stay behind me, lass.”

  He knew it was an unnecessary directive. Laurel was plastered against him, and he knew she was doing everything she could to keep from shaking all over.

  He’d not seen Machara in years, but the moment he lay eyes on her, all his hatred for her came rushing back.

  She slinked toward the front of her cell, her silver hair dragging on the floor behind her, her long nails drumming against the rail as she smiled at him.

  “Yer absence was good for me, Raudrich. ’Tis been more than a decade since I have felt this strong.”

  “Enjoy yer strength while ye can, Machara, for it willna last long. Timothy’s body was weak for years before he died. The next druid will be stronger and with it, so will his magic.”

  She laughed, and the sound of it caused the hairs on his arms to rise.

  “We shall see. Let me see the bitch behind ye, Raudrich. Let me see the whore that has come to try and seduce Nicol.”

  He’d known Machara would try to rile him up. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to the anger he felt at hearing Laurel referred to in such a way. He needed his composure to keep his powers in check. It was even more important, with Laurel down here, that he not allow Machara to weaken him through rage.

  “She is no threat to yer love for him, Machara. ’Tis why I thought ye should meet her.”

  Stepping away from the bars of her cell, Raudrich watched as Machara crossed her arms.

  Carefully, he stepped away to clear the path between Laurel and Machara. He’d expected Laurel to hesitate, but she did no such thing. The strength in her steps shocked him. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t shake. She stepped up beside him, looked straight into Machara’s eyes, and spoke. “I’m Laurel. I wish I could say that it’s nice to meet you.”

  Machara gave one short chuckle as her sinister smile grew even wider.

  “Ah, I see Raudrich has already tried to poison ye against me. If only we lassies could have spoken first, I doubt ye would have such an ill opinion of me. These men have never been able to understand me, but ye, I think could, if given the chance.”

  Raudrich could’ve laughed at the blasé expression on Laurel’s face as she paused and pursed her lips. She cocked her head to the side in contemplation, but she knew better than to do anything that might anger Machara.

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “So, tell me, whore, why are ye here? Do ye mean to take my Nicol from me?”

  Raudrich watched the exchange with great anticipation. Everything was up to Laurel. How she decided to speak, what she decided to do next, would determine whether or not she was safe inside this castle.

  “No. I may not like you, but I am not that sort of woman.

  Raudrich watched as Machara’s expression softened just the littlest bit, and hope rose within him.

  “Who does yer heart belong to then? If it is still yer own, then ye are a threat, for a heart untethered is bound to fall for my Nicol.”

  Machara was crazy, but Raudrich’s heart pounded in his chest as he awaited Laurel’s answer. He hoped Laurel understood just how important it was that she give Machara a convincing answer. He hoped the lass was capable of being a better liar now than she had been this morning when trying to convince him that they’d not touched in his bed last night.

  Laurel reached for him. Raudrich let out an uneasy breath as he stepped toward her and she wrapped her arm around his waist.

  “My heart belongs to Raudrich, Machara. I give you my word as one woman in love to another. I shall never lay a hand on Nicol. My heart is already taken and always shall be.”

  If he wasn’t so worried for Machara’s reaction, Raudrich would’ve swooned at her words. It was convincing even to him.

  Machara stayed silent for a long moment as she looked back and forth between them. As she did so, Laurel leaned into him even more, pressing her head into him as her hand came up to gently rub his chest.

  When Machara did speak, there was humor in her tone.

  “Kiss him, lass. Ye can always tell by the way someone kisses another what precisely is in her heart. Convince me that ye love him. If ye doona succeed, I suggest ye start fearing for yer life. For bound by magic or not, I have ways of ensuring that ye willna be long for this world. Kiss him like yer life depends on it, because trust me, young whore, it does.”

  Laurel’s eyes pleaded with him to cooperate as she turned and reached up toward him. When her lips touched his, he crushed her against him, and together they danced for the damned faerie’s pleasure and while he couldn’t speak for Laurel, most assuredly his own, as well.

  Chapter 25

  While fear initiated our performance, I wasn’t altogether sure it sustained it. The passion with which Raudrich pulled me against him—the heat and the weight of how he pushed me against the back wall of the dungeon—felt very real. And my response to him was no put-on. It was chemical, completely involuntary. I moaned against his lips as his tongue sought entry into my mouth. As his hands roamed down the side of my body and he backed me into the stones behind us, his lips moved to my neck. I let out a shaky breath in his ear that caused him to growl.

  He pressed himself into my stomach, and I could feel how hard and ready he was. It was a familiar sensation, one I remembered all too well from only the night before. His hand cupped at my breast and I closed my eyes from the pleasure of it. I was losing myself—quickly forgetting about the evil faerie standing only a few short feet from us.

  Then she spoke, and the reality of our surroundings crashed down on both of us as we awkwardly pulled away, both breathless and weak as Raudrich turned from me to look at her.

  “I’ll not waste my energy trying to harm ye, lass. Ye are not a threat. If ye are not in love with Raudrich now, ye are well on yer way to being so. My efforts would be better suited to trying to fight my way out of here while The Eight dwindle in number and power.”

  “Try as ye might, Machara, ye willna succeed as ye hope.”

  Raudrich’s voice was deep and pained. He was still struggling to gain his composure. His response to me had been no performance. I was sure of it.

  “Nothing stays buried forever, lad. Each and every one of ye should know that by now. One day I will be free of this cell. When that day comes, ye each shall suffer a fate far worse than Freya’s.”

  Raudrich’s left hand clenched at his side. I could see that he was growing angry.

  Eager to be away from the smell and the terrifying gaze of such evil, I reached for his arm.

  “Let’s go. I don’t think there’s any need for either of us to say anything more.”

  Without a word, he took my hand and we turned to leave.

  I knew I would hear
her laughter in my sleep.

  * * *

  “Lass…”

  Raudrich waited until we were far away from Machara—until we stood in the hallway outside his bedchamber—to say a word.

  The hallways were dark, the castle quiet, and as he stopped and turned to look at me, all I could hear was his breathing, still ragged and strained.

  “Yes?”

  My voice shook as I answered him. The energy that passed between us as we stood facing one another, our chests nearly touching with each intake of uneven breath, was palpable in its heat and need. I’d never been so turned on in my life. I’d never been so confused.

  This wasn’t like me. I didn’t do this. I wasn’t the sort of person that got swept away with anything. I didn’t know this man. How, then, could he make me feel so much?

  I felt safe, yet scared—curious, but cautious. I wanted to throw my arms around him. I also wanted to run away as quickly as I could. Too many things stirred inside me as we stood in the darkness and silence together. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but the span of time between my breathless “yes” and his answer felt like an eternity.

  “Ye lied to me before. Why?”

  It was hardly what I expected him to say, and with my thoughts clouded by his closeness, I couldn’t recall what he might mean.

  “Lie? When did I lie to you?”

  He took one step closer and I felt my back bump into the wall behind me. I liked being pinned by him. I liked knowing that I couldn’t avoid whatever he might do or say next. It was nerve-wracking in the sexiest way.

  He leaned in and whispered in my ear. My whole body shivered as his breath wafted across the exposed skin of my neck. I closed my eyes and leaned back into the wall as he spoke.