Warrior of the Isles

by Debbie Mazzuca

  Jamie gave his side of their exploits with the buck. Every so often Alex would pipe in with his version of the day’s events. Syrena gave both bairns equal attention. Aidan didn’t understand it, but she seemed truly interested in what the demons had to say. Patiently, she listened to their childish prattle, a gentle smile curving her lips.

  As though she sensed his attention, she raised her eyes to his. Captured in her golden gaze, he found himself responding, the burning desire he thought long since buried stirred to life.

  He jerked his attention back to Fergus. “Sorry. What was that ye were sayin’?”

  Fergus brows knitted with a pointed look in Syrena’s direction. “Aye, you seem distracted.”

  “I’m thinkin’ about Lan. I doona ken how much longer I can wait. My uncle has yet to respond to my inquiries and—”

  Fergus lowered his voice to interrupt Aidan. “I’m glad to hear you’ve come to yer senses and no longer think Syrena had anythin’ to do with it.”

  Aidan frowned. “Nay, ye’re wrong. I’m more convinced than ever she kens somethin’.” His grip tightened on the silver goblet. “I’ll get the truth from her yet. I’m only sayin’ I have to hurry and get it from her soon.”

  Fergus bent over his trencher to eat the last of his chicken, waving his dirk at Aidan. “Yer plan, the one you spoke of to Rory and me, ’tis no’ a good idea, lad. I’m no’ sayin’ I doona understand where ye’re comin’ from, but you’ve lost yer objectivity where the lass is concerned. Think before you do somethin’ you’ll regret.”

  “My only regret would be no’ doin’ everythin’ in my power to find my brother.” His appetite lost, Aidan shoved his half-eaten meal aside.

  It wasn’t until he heard the familiar sound of Syrena’s appreciative hum that he realized the pastries had been served. He turned in time to see her slide the tip of her tongue slowly over her honey-glazed lips. Eyes half closed, she raised one finger then the other to her rosebud mouth, licking off the sugary remains.

  A low groan escaped from deep in his throat before he could contain it. The twins and Syrena swiveled their heads in his direction. Bloody hell, if Mrs. Mac served honey cakes again, he’d have to kill her.

  “What?” he growled.

  “You made a funny noise,” Jamie informed him.

  “I didna. Ye’re imaginin’ things.” He ignored Fergus laughing beside him and shoved a piece of honey cake in his mouth.

  Alex shook his head. “Did, too. I heard you.”

  Just as Aidan was about to respond, he noticed a well-fed black cat, yellow eyes glowing, leap onto the dais. It stalked toward Syrena. Remembering her terror that day in Lewes, Aidan slowly rose from his chair, not wanting to attract her attention, hoping he could reach the cat before it reached her. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes, then slowly shifted in her chair.

  The cat arched its back and hissed. Syrena snarled and hissed back. The terror-stricken animal fled the dais. Aidan knew exactly how it felt.

  He stared at her. She’d changed. And then he realized she hadn’t—this was who she was. The sweet, innocent beauty who snuck past his hard-won defenses, wormed her way into his heart, never existed.

  Chapter 16

  The castle bustled with activity and Syrena hurried from her room, certain she’d slept through the morning meal. Coming down the stairs, she noted Aileanna speaking to an older man. They turned to her.

  “Father, this is Lady Syrena, Aidan’s betrothed.”

  Syrena gaped at Aileanna. What in the name of Fae did she just say? Syrena gripped the baluster before she tumbled headlong down the stairs. The handsome silver-haired man turned his piercing blue eyes upon her. Aileanna, who stood slightly behind him at the foot of the grand staircase, shrugged helplessly and mouthed, “I’ll explain later.”

  “Syrena, this is my father, Alasdair MacDonald.”

  Lord MacDonald’s big hand swallowed Syrena’s in a firm grip as he gently guided her down the last step. He glanced back at his daughter. “She has the look of Brianna, doona ye think?”

  “But she’s not, you know that, don’t you, Father?” Aileanna asked, casting a worried look at the older man.

  He waved off his daughter’s concern. “Och, aye, of course I do. But ’tis certain she has both my daughters’ poor taste in men.” Taking Syrena’s measure, he shook his head. “What is wrong with ye lasses, fallin’ fer the MacLeod lads as ye do? When ye come to yer senses, which I’m certain ye will, I ken some fine gentlemen who’d be honored to meet a bonny lass such as yerself.”

  “Father!”

  “What? A mon is entitled to his opinion, is he no’?”

  “Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep opinions such as those to yourself.”

  “Why? How do ye expect a wee lass such as this to hold her own against a MacLeod? They’re a bunch of overbearing, arrogant louts. Stubborn to boot, and well ye ken it.”

  A bubble of laughter gurgled in Syrena’s throat. Aileanna might not agree with her father’s opinion of the MacLeods, but she did, at least where Aidan was concerned.

  Witnessing her amusement, Alasdair grinned. His blue eyes twinkling, he wrapped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “Now, where would yer parents be? I’d like to meet the ones that produced such a bonny wee lass. I have some advice they need to hear when it comes to dealin’ with the MacLeods.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Lord MacDonald.” Thank the heavens. The last thing she wanted was for them to have met her father, or Morgana for that matter. “Both my parents are . . . have passed on.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, my pet.” Angling his head to study her, he tightened his arm around her shoulder. “Och, well, it’s settled then, since ye have no kin to see to yer interests, I’ll see to them fer ye. I’ll no’ have the MacLeods taking advantage of ye,” he proclaimed, looking pleased with the prospect.

  Aileanna groaned. “If you don’t behave, I’m sending you home. Where’s Aunt Fiona?” she asked as though the woman was her only hope in controlling the man at Syrena’s side. Aileanna glanced expectantly at the entrance doors.

  Lord MacDonald looked sheepish. “Ah . . . she didna wish to come.”

  “Why? What did you do now?” Aileanna narrowed her gaze on her father, and crossed her arms beneath her chest.

  Syrena shifted from one foot to the other, thinking it would be best to take her leave.

  “Ye’re makin’ the lass uncomfortable, Aileanna. We’ll discuss yer aunt and her daft notions later.”

  “Daft notions, hah.” Aileanna snorted then shifted her attention to Syrena. “You’ll have to excuse me. As you can see, my father has a way of . . ” She breathed a sigh of relief when Mrs. Mac bustled toward them. “Mrs. Mac, will you show my father to his room, please?” She pointed a finger at Alasdair. “And don’t think you’re off the hook. You and I will be having ourselves a good long chat.”

  Her father waved aside her comment to follow Mrs. Mac. Over his shoulder, he said, “Make sure ye seat Syrena beside me at the evenin’ meal, Aileanna.”

  “The man is impossible,” Aileanna muttered as Mrs. Mac and her father disappeared from view. “I don’t know why I said you were Aidan’s fiancée.” She buried her face in her hands and shook her head.

  “Neither do I. I was hoping you’d explain it to me. Aidan’s going to be furious, Aileanna. The man can barely stand to look at me.”

  Aileanna looked up and grinned. “Nay, he doesn’t have a problem looking at you, I can attest to that. But you’re right, he won’t be happy about it.”

  Syrena winced. It didn’t matter that she said it herself; it bothered her to hear someone else confirm Aidan’s low opinion of her. Even though it shouldn’t, it did, and the realization was unsettling.

  Aileanna lifted a slender shoulder, the pale blue fabric of her gown rustling with the movement. “There’s no help for it, I couldn’t tell my father you’re Fae, and I couldn’t think of any other way to explain your presen
ce.”

  “Does your father feel the same way about the Fae as Aidan does?” Syrena’s voice sounded thick with pent-up emotion. She castigated herself for being foolish—why should the opinions, the prejudice of Aileanna’s father, Aidan, or anyone else for that matter, bother her? She’d spent most of her life being despised for one reason or another—why should it be any different now?

  “Not to . . ” Catching what must have been a woebegone expression on her face, Aileanna gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry, Syrena. Believe me, I know how it feels to be an outsider. It took a long time before the people of Dunvegan accepted me. As for my father, he blames the faery flag for taking my mother and I from him. But if it makes you feel any better”—she grinned—“he blames the MacLeods most of all. Besides, you didn’t have anything to do with the faery flag so he can’t hold you accountable.”

  “Then maybe you should’ve told him the truth.”

  “It seemed the best option at the—” Aileanna broke off at the sound of Aidan’s loud bellow.

  Poised for flight, Syrena’s mouth dropped when Aidan stormed through the doors of the keep with Alex under one arm, a protesting, red-faced Jamie under the other. Clutched in the boys’ hands were a set of bows and red-tipped arrows just like the one sticking out of the thick, inky black waves on top of Aidan’s head.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter, but it was no use.

  He glared at her, splotches of red on his sun-bronzed cheeks. “Ye think ’tis funny, do ye? Ye wouldna if ye were the one they were shootin’ at.”

  Lowering the boys none-too-gently to their feet, he glowered at Aileanna. “Who was the bloody fool who gave these to the wee demons?” he asked, rattling the weapons he’d swiped from the boys’ hands.

  “’Tis a present from our granddad,” Jamie cried. His arms windmilling, he went after Aidan, who flattened his open palm against Jamie’s forehead. He managed to keep Jamie at arm’s length, his foot from connecting with Aidan’s shin.

  “Jamie, stop that right now,” his mother admonished, grabbing hold of the back of his shirt.

  “But ’tis our present. He canna have them.”

  “Your Uncle Aidan is right. It’s not a suitable gift for five-year-olds, and your grandfather and I will be having a wee chat about it. One more thing on an ever-growing list,” she muttered.

  Thinking of the chat Aileanna was about to have with the glowering man who towered above them, Syrena knew she didn’t want to be anywhere in sight, or within earshot, when she did.

  “Jamie, Alex, why don’t we go outside? You can show me the hiding spot you were talking about the other day.”

  The twins reluctantly agreed, shooting daggers at Aidan as they took her hands.

  “That’s a wonderful idea. You boys go and play with your Auntie Syrena, and Mama will get on with the preparations to celebrate yer da’s day of birth.”

  Auntie? Syrena stifled a groan, hurrying the boys out the door before Aidan exploded.

  Jamie frowned, struggling to keep up with Syrena as she hustled them across the courtyard. “Why did Mama call you our auntie?”

  Shooting a glance over her shoulder, relieved Aidan was not in hot pursuit, Syrena said, “She . . . she thinks I’m going to marry your Uncle Aidan.”

  “Ye’re marryin’ the monster?” Jamie asked horrified.

  “Ummm . . . hmmm, I . . . maybe.” Her pulse quickened at the thought. At one time it had been her fondest desire. How often had she lost herself in that particular fantasy? In the magickal world she’d created where Aidan would love her even though she was Fae.

  Where they would live happily ever after with Lachlan, and their children, two boys who would look just like their father, completed the idyllic world she’d imagined. She would have laughed, if it hadn’t been so painful.

  The beautiful Highlander who’d once looked at her with love and desire in his gray eyes now looked at her with disdain and distrust. But it didn’t matter. Her illusions had been destroyed a long time ago. She wasn’t meant to be loved—her father, her mother, Aidan, and even Lachlan had proven that to her. The pain of that knowledge was no longer as difficult to bear. She’d given up on the dream a year ago. Winning the Fae’s admiration was enough. It had to be.

  The dire consequences of Syrena being married to Aidan were volleyed back and forth between Jamie and Alex at a pace that left her dizzy. Offering the boys a reassuring smile, she said, “Don’t worry, I can handle the monster.” At least she hoped she could.

  Their angelic faces lit up with smiles. “We ken it,” Alex said.

  “Aye, and we’ll have our weapons to help you.” Jamie added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Our da will give them back to us.”

  She laughed, but watching Alex and Jamie bend down to examine a small creature inch across the cobblestone, eyes filled with wonder, her amusement faded. If her life went as planned, there would be no children for her.

  No little boys to play with, to look at the world through their curious and innocent eyes, to cuddle and rock to sleep. No one to give all the love she kept bottled up inside her. She rubbed the dull ache in her chest and looked down at Jamie and Alex.

  Then Syrena made a decision that eased the tight band constricting her lungs. After they found Lachlan, she’d ask Aileanna if she could come back and visit. They had become friends, and she didn’t think Aileanna would mind. The thought lightened her mood. She took hold of their baby-soft hands. “Come, let’s take advantage of the fine day.”

  Head pounding, Aidan strode across the abandoned courtyard, the keep a hive of activity as everyone within prepared for his cousin’s celebration. He drank in the musky sweetness of the fall air in an attempt to cool his heated blood, his anger a barely banked inferno.

  After the demons had set upon him with their bows and arrows, his day had gone from bad to worse. Thinking of Aileanna, he shook his head. Why the bloody hell did she tell her father he and Syrena were betrothed? She’d left him no choice but to play along—if he didn’t, he risked the MacDonald discovering who Syrena really was. And he wouldn’t allow his family’s closely guarded secret to be exposed. A secret he’d kept hidden for so long he was sometimes able to put it behind him.

  But Syrena’s presence forced him to deal with the emotions he’d thought he’d overcome—anger at his father, his mother, and however unfair it may be, his brother. And now he had to pretend he loved a woman whose family had plunged his own headfirst into their nightmare.

  A year ago, it wouldn’t have been an act. But he knew who she was now, and like Davina, she’d lied to him, played him for a fool.

  He cursed, staring at the crumpled missive in his hand. He couldn’t believe it; his uncle was dead, along with his hopes of finding Lachlan alive and well in the Hamiltons London town home. And now he had no choice but to deal with his cousin, John Henry, the man Davina had betrayed him for. The newly appointed Lord Hamilton, although offering his assistance, made it clear he did so unwillingly. The easy friendship they’d enjoyed in their youth had been destroyed by the love they’d shared for the same woman.

  A sultry peal of laughter rippled like the light breeze rustling the leaves overhead. Aidan took a deep breath before he set off in the direction from which it came. Regardless of his feelings for Syrena, he had to find his brother, and he was certain she held the answers he sought.

  He followed the bairns’ giggles to the kitchens. Rounding the corner of the squat, weathered stone building, he stopped short. Dappled sunlight filtered through the boughs of an old oak to shine down on Syrena and the bairns who sat at the base of the tree. Her hair lay loose upon her shoulders, shining like a freshly minted gold coin.

  He took a step back and leaned against the warm stone. Sweet Christ, he still wanted her. She drew him in, just like Jamie and Alex, he thought wryly, noting the expressions of rapture on their wee faces as they gazed up at her.

  He had heard it said bairns were the best judge of character. Aidan sn
orted. If that were the case, it didn’t say much for his, but spoke volumes of hers. She truly cared about the lads. It was obvious from the way she spoke to them, listening to their nonsensical prattle with endless patience.

  Aye, so how did he reconcile this woman with the one he condemned? Was it possible she told the truth? Did she truly have no idea as to Lan’s whereabouts? A part of him hoped that was the case, while the other part prayed it wasn’t. If she had played no part in his brother’s disappearance, how in the bloody hell would he find him?

  “You promised, Auntie Syrena, now where’s our present?” Jamie demanded.

  Aidan sent his eyes to the clear blue sky. Auntie. An auntie who appeared somewhat flustered if the faint flush coloring her cheeks was anything to go by.

  “Um-hmm . . . well . . . give me a moment. You’re supposed to have your eyes closed, Jamie. No peeking,” she admonished.

  The bairns squeezed their eyes shut. Her hands fluttered behind her back. Aidan frowned, wondering what she hoped to find since there was nothing behind her. Her fingers wiggled on top of the grass. Eyes closed, she moved her pink lips silently. Aidan stiffened.

  Magick.

  Bloody hell, she meant to use her magick. He stepped from the shadows to stop her, but then remembered her confession of the day before and couldn’t bring himself to berate her.

  Hearing how she’d suffered at the hands of the Fae when she was no older than the bairns had left him shaken. It had taken everything he had not to take her in his arms and comfort her. But she’d related the tale without tears or recriminations. And he’d stood there, undeniably proud of her strength, of her ability to get past the cruelty without visible scars.

  “Can we open them now?” Alex asked.

  “Not yet.” Her face a study in concentration, she wiggled her fingers again. Aidan’s eyes widened. What looked to be a gooey, white substance dripped from her hands. A smile lit her face then she glanced over her shoulder and groaned. With a frustrated shake of her long tousled curls, she wiped the sticky mess onto the grass and prepared to try again.