Beguiled

by Maureen Child

  “I must have you now,” he said, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, their clothes were gone and Maggie could look her fill of his truly amazing body.

  “Good, this is good,” she whispered, and moved toward him.

  But he picked her up, swinging her into his arms, then turned swiftly to deposit her on the intricately carved silver throne.

  “Hey!” She bolted up quickly, expecting the metal beneath her to be cold against her naked skin. But it was warm, as if the jewels and the silver itself were heated from within. “Hey . . .”

  “This is how I have ached to see my Fae Queen,” he said, his gaze moving over her in approval.

  “Naked?”

  “And hungry for me.” Going to one knee before her, he gently lifted her legs and hung them over the arms of the throne.

  “Culhane . . .” Maggie swallowed hard and shifted uneasily, not exactly comfy with being so exposed.

  “Let me worship my Queen,” he said, and bent his head to her center. His mouth covered her and Maggie instantly forgot about where she was and how she was sitting. Nothing mattered except that he continue doing exactly what he was doing.

  His lips and tongue worked her innermost flesh, lapping, tasting, delving deep, driving her higher and higher. Breathless, she looked down at his dark head bent to her body in supplication and felt the most amazing sensations. Warmth skittered through her chest, where it surrounded her heart and suffused her soul. Maggie threaded her fingers through his hair and held his head to her, loving the feel of his mouth on her body.

  Again and again, he licked, tasted, swirling the tip of his tongue over the heated bud of her desire. She flinched on the throne, her body jerking helplessly as he claimed her in the most intimate manner possible.

  As his mouth moved over her, he slid first one finger, then two, into her depths, stroking her both inside and out, and Maggie’s mind began to shatter. There was nothing in the world beyond this room. Beyond this man. This Fae Warrior.

  Her legs quivered as he pushed her higher still, demanding her release, demanding she surrender her ecstasy to him. Maggie’s heart fluttered in her chest. She gasped for air, watched him as he took her and she whispered, “I can’t take much more, Culhane. . . .”

  He stopped. Lifted his head. Looked at her. “You will take all, my Queen.”

  And when he lowered his mouth to her again, he kept his eyes locked on her as she screamed his name and splintered into a billion jagged shards.

  Before her body had even stopped rippling with release, he swept her up into his arms, sat on the throne himself and lowered her onto his shaft. Maggie groaned as he filled her. Her body stretched to accommodate him and she swiveled her hips against him to take him even deeper within.

  His hands at her hips, she rode him, gaze locked with his, until his body erupted into hers, emptying all that he was into her body. Maggie held him close, heard him shout her name loudly enough to shatter glass and knew that whatever else lay between them, Culhane was hers. As he’d always been meant to be. She held him to her and deliberately banished the niggling doubts hiding in the recesses of her mind.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair, loving the slide of that thick black silk against her skin. Maggie sighed and let her brain float into that lazy, half-alert world where everything was shiny and pretty, and as she did, she realized she’d felt this way before.

  Not the sexually replete thing, because Culhane was really the best lover ever. But the cherished, special sense of wonder that she was feeling at the moment was somehow . . . familiar.

  A memory slid through her mind, images rising up from her past, and Maggie sighed as she remembered. . . .

  Her friend Amy had been a beautiful bride and Maggie didn’t even mind the hideous bridesmaid dress she’d been forced to wear. What she did mind was not having a date for the wedding.

  She felt like a paper sack in a luggage store. Out of place and unwanted.

  Until he came.

  With his long black hair and secretive smile, he swept Maggie into a dance and held her as if she were made of the finest crystal. He looked into her eyes and she stared up into swirls of green and silver that simply took her breath away.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Only a man,” he said, but that was a lie. She knew it. Felt it. She also felt as if she should know him.

  “No, really. Who are you?”

  “It only matters who you are, Maggie,” he told her, moving around the dance floor so smoothly it was as if they were floating. “You are too beautiful to be alone. To feel sadness.”

  “How do—” Was he a mind reader? He thought she was beautiful?

  He smiled at her. “You are more beautiful than I could have imagined. And your heart and soul are even more so. One day, you will see this as clearly as do I.”

  “One day,” she said as the room around them spun into a colorful blur. The magic of this man made her feel as if the two of them were alone in the hall.

  “You will see, Maggie. Believe this. Believe in yourself.” He steered her effortlessly into a secluded corner and the sound of the music was all that followed them.

  There in the shadows he touched her face with tender fingers and she felt the heat of that caress zip through her system like a sudden fever. Maggie held her breath and waited, sure that she had somehow stumbled into a surreal moment that she didn’t want to end.

  “I must leave you,” he whispered.

  “Not yet,” she told him.

  He smiled. “Soon, Maggie, I will return and all will be revealed.”

  Then he was gone and an instant later, the memory of him had dissolved like sugar in water.

  Until now. Until this very moment, when yet another memory of Culhane’s connection to her had surfaced. He’d reawakened memories for her before, but this was spontaneous. Brought on by her growing Fae blood? Did it matter?

  What was she supposed to think? He’d visited her throughout her life and never once had he hurt her. He’d saved her life when she was a child, and when she was a young woman, he’d come to her rescue on a crowded dance floor. He’d made her feel special. Like a princess.

  Or a queen.

  Her heart turned over and she fought to decide whether that memory made her trust him more—or whether it was just one more instance of Culhane manipulating her.

  Then he shifted atop her, holding her closer, and Maggie let her eyes slide shut, losing herself in the sensation of being wrapped in his strong arms. This wasn’t the time for thinking.

  For now, Culhane was all she wanted.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’ll keep us safe; I know you will,” Nora said.

  “You don’t make it easy.” Quinn’s arms tightened around the love of his life while he wondered just how he had lived so long without her. And how he could face eternity if something happened to her.

  He’d come here directly from the palace. Needing to see Nora. Needing to assure himself that all was well with her. Quinn felt that only he could properly protect her and he would be by her side, he vowed, until all was safe again. Here in the quiet of Maggie’s home, in a bedroom where his woman slept, Quinn held on to all that was precious to him and vowed to defend her and her daughter at all costs.

  In centuries of life, Quinn had never known true passion until this tiny, half-Fae had appeared in his path. One night with her would be worth eternities alone. But he no longer wanted to live a solitary warrior’s life. He wanted more. And he wouldn’t settle for less than forever. He would have Nora. And he would have his son. And the daughter of his heart.

  He must ensure nothing happened to any of them. Soon, Nora would be fully Fae. The child she carried filled her body with the power of the Faery and it would, eventually, overcome her mortal blood, making it harder for Mab to track her. To find her. But Eileen, sleeping down the hall, dreaming her innocent dreams, was only part-Fae.

  The child had come to mean much to him over the last weeks.


  “You’re too quiet,” Nora said finally. “You’re thinking about something that I’m not going to like, aren’t you?”

  “I’m deciding how best to protect you and Eileen and no, you will not like it. But I will do what I must, Nora. You will not fight me on this.”

  “If you try to kidnap me again, Quinn Terhune,” she said, less relaxed and more worried now, “I’ll make you so miserable, you’ll want to pay Mab to kill me.”

  Irritation and frustration grew apace inside him. “Why do you wish to tie my hands, when I only strive to protect you and Eileen and our child? It is my right to see to your safety. My duty. My privilege.”

  She gave him a sad smile that touched Quinn’s heart but did nothing to melt the thread of steely resolve inside him.

  “I know you mean that in the best possible way. But I had a husband once who ordered me around and told me what to do and in general treated me like a five-year-old with a bad sense of direction.” A solitary tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with one impatient sweep of her hand. “I won’t let that happen again. I’m my own person. I’m in charge of me and my daughter and the baby I’m carrying. You’re not my husband—”

  He scowled at her. “I’m your mate.”

  “Not the same thing.”

  “It is to the Fae.”

  “Not to me. I’m not married unless there’s a priest and some cake and champagne. Besides, I’m only part-Fae and you’re getting me off the subject here,” Nora complained. She sent a quick look around the cozy spare bedroom. “I grew up here, Quinn. And when my marriage failed, I came back. Here is where I rebuilt my life, my confidence, my belief in myself. This is my home, Quinn. Nobody’s chasing me off. Not even that crazed ex-Queen of yours.”

  Disgusted, he blew out a breath and frowned. “You are much like your sister.”

  In spite of his furious expression, Nora smiled. “The Donovan women are made of stern stuff, Quinn. It took me a while to remember that once. I won’t forget it again.”

  “But Mab—”

  “I’ll be careful,” she promised, reaching up to cup his cheek with her palm. “I’m independent, not stupid. And you’ll be here to watch over Eileen and me, right?”

  “With my life,” he vowed, holding her hand to his face, turning his lips into the palm to place a gentle kiss there.

  “Then we’ll be good.” She moved into his arms, laid her head on his chest and stared at the closed door that led to the hallway and the room where her daughter was sleeping. “Yes, I’m scared, Quinn. But I have to teach Eileen that a strong woman makes her own choices.”

  “Your courage terrifies me,” he murmured.

  She smiled. “Yeah well, I hope I’m doing the right thing. But you know,” she whispered, “Madame Star says that my moons are aligned perfectly. What could go wrong?”

  He didn’t want to consider all that could possibly go wrong.

  A couple of long moments passed before she said, “You’re quiet again. Are you worried?” She squirmed closer to Quinn, crawling onto his lap, nestling her head just beneath his chin. She fought to be brave, but he had heard the tremor in her voice as she tried to disguise her fear.

  “I am concerned for Eileen,” he told her. Quinn looked down into her dark blue eyes and willed her to see his absolute confidence in his ability to protect her. “Mab knows her. Has seen her. Spoken to her. Eileen set her free of her prison—”

  “It was an accident.”

  “Of course it was, though that changes nothing. There’s a connection now between our girl and Mab. The treacherous bitch will use it as well. She’ll do whatever it is she thinks she must to win back her throne and kill Maggie.” He cupped Nora’s face between his big palms, saw fear flash in her eyes and regretted the fact that he must give her more worry. But he couldn’t see how to avoid it. “She will use Eileen. She could steal her from us. Hide her where we’d never find her. Take her to Casia—”

  “Oh God. The prison island?” Nora blinked at him, shook her head and said, “No. I won’t let Mab have my daughter.”

  “The danger is there, but no, lass, we won’t let Mab get our daughter.” Quinn tightened his arms around her. “I should take Eileen to the Conclave. There are places in the warrior fortress that Mab could never find.”

  “I can’t let her go without me,” Nora said.

  “She won’t.”

  Nora tipped her head back to look up at him. “So we can’t go yet. I won’t leave Maggie here alone. She’s my sister, Quinn.”

  “She’s not alone. She has Claire and Bezel, and gods know Mac is always near the witch. And most importantly, Maggie has Culhane.”

  “That’s all true,” she said, and snuggled against him. “It’s also true that she’s my family and I’m not leaving without her. Besides, with all of us here, in the main house, we’re easier to protect.”

  “Or destroy.”

  “You won’t let that happen,” she said, and the surety in her voice filled him with pride that battled the qualms of disquiet in his blood. She gave him her confidence, trusted him with the safety of her child. And he would do whatever he must to prove worthy of that trust.

  “You had sex.”

  “Huh?”

  Bright and early the next morning, Claire and Maggie were wandering through a Christmas tree lot. It was so early, in fact, that there was a layer of fog drifting in off the ocean that the morning sun hadn’t yet dissipated. The air was cold and damp and wisps of steam lifted off the surfaces of the lattes they’d stopped for on the way to the lot.

  The heavy scent of pine wrapped itself around them and the straw beneath their feet crunched as they walked. They were alone in the man-made forest, since it was too early for most people to be shopping for trees. Which had been the plan. Maggie wanted a damn tree and since she knew it wasn’t completely safe to wander too far from their warded house, she figured it would be best if she bought her tree before most of the world was awake.

  It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now though, her eyes were barely open and she had to gulp at her latte for the jolt of caffeine her system sorely needed.

  From above, Christmas carols trilled from speakers and out on the street, headlights cut through the swath of fog as early-morning commuters hit Pacific Coast Highway.

  Maggie sighed and took another sip of her latte. “We should have gotten doughnuts, too,” she whispered.

  “Forget the doughnuts.” Claire fixed her with a demanding look. “You didn’t answer me before. You had sex. Didn’t you?”

  “What? Am I wearing a sign?” Maggie looked at the front of her navy blue peacoat. “Is there a giant red S for sex stitched into my jacket?”

  “Might as well be,” Claire told her with a huff. “Your eyes are shining, there’s a bloody smug, satisfied smile on your face and you’re altogether in too good a mood for this early in the morning.”

  “Well, if it isn’t Sherlock MacDonald,” Maggie said, smiling. “Or would that be Claire Holmes?”

  “Hah! As if it takes a detective to see the stamp of good sex on a body’s face.”

  “Good sex takes place a little lower.” Maggie grinned.

  “Ah, fine. Rub it in.” Claire shook her head, sipped at her latte and shrugged deeper into her bright red coat. “Some of us are up all night worrying about protection spells while others of us are out—” She broke off. “Just what exactly were you doing?”

  Maggie sighed heavily. After that time on the throne, Culhane had taken her to the Queen’s bedroom, high in the palace, and there he’d shown her so many inventive Faery maneuvers that . . . wow. The memories of what he’d done to her, what they’d done together, made Maggie so warm, she could have tossed off her coat and danced naked down the street. A smile curved her mouth. “Mmmm . . .”

  “Ah God,” Claire mused with an envious moan. “You’re killing me.”

  “Not yet,” a deep voice intruded. “But that is the plan.”

  “Crap!” Maggie sp
un around and instinctively went into a deep crouch, just as Bezel and Culhane had taught her. She looked up into the face of one of the Christmas tree lot workers. He was about thirty, with a scraggly beard. He wore dirty jeans with a blue and green flannel shirt and work boots that looked older than he was; then she stared directly into his eyes and saw a telltale flicker of red. Definitely demon.

  “Hey, thanks for coming to me,” he said. “We tried to get into your place last night, but it’s been warded.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So you do have a witch in the mix.” He fixed his gaze on Claire. “You?”

  “Leave her out of this,” Maggie warned him, not daring to let a demon get fixated on Claire. She might be a witch, but that didn’t mean she knew how to fight demons. Maggie stayed low and muttered, “Move away, Claire.”

  “Yeah, Claire,” he echoed in a cooing voice. “Step away. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before you and me have a chance to get acquainted. I’ll be right with ya. Soon as I get rid of this bitch.”

  Maggie tossed her hot latte into his face, then swept out one leg, caught him behind his knee and he toppled over. “This bitch is so out of your league.”

  He hissed as the burning liquid hit his skin, but he rolled to his feet and popped right back up again. So did Maggie. She circled him, keeping her gaze fixed on her opponent. She couldn’t afford to worry about Claire. If she split her focus, she’d only endanger her best friend.

  As she had by even bringing her along. God, she was an idiot, Maggie told herself. She never should have taken Claire with her. Should have brought Quinn along. Should have called for Culhane. Hell. Even Bezel would have been welcome about now.

  The demon dove at her, clipped Maggie’s jaw with a tight fist and just for an instant, she saw stars. But she shook off the feeling fast and slammed the heel of her hand into the demon’s nose. A fountain of blood sprayed from him and Maggie danced back, keeping clear of the mess.

  “That’s gonna cost you, bitch.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and laughed. “You really think you can stand up to what’s coming? Mab’s gathering an army that’s gonna make your tame warriors look like a herd of poodles.”