by Sarah Makela
Instead, she’d been forced to have a guard known for being an outcast.
Then again, maybe Niamh should have more pity for him than she did. A lot of the time she felt just as much of an outcast. Something about her was unlike the rest of the Seelie Court. However, she didn’t know what that different thing was, except for knowing she wasn’t always as happy as the other faes, and that sometimes she felt more comfortable with darker emotions.
“If that is all, you are both dismissed.” Titania returned to her throne and seated herself there.
Niamh walked out of the queen’s throne room with Doyle at her heels. She balled her hands into fists, keeping them close to her sides. If she didn’t, she might end up smacking him. That wouldn’t look good on her part. Nor would it endear her to the man hired to protect her.
They walked in silence until she spotted a familiar face. He was one of the men trying to court her. He’d tried to sweep her away to dance the other night. Remembering the words the masked man had spoken in the forest, she stared at the floor, trying to remain unnoticed, but he obviously saw her.
“Lady McNamara, it’s such a pleasure to see you. I heard about what happened.” She looked up to see his gaze was on her neck, taking in the bruises that were slowly fading. Although they weren’t disappearing quickly enough—almost everyone she met stared as if she had some kind of hideous sin upon her skin.
“It’s nice to see you as well.” She tried to recall his name, but for the life of her, she couldn’t.
Behind her, Doyle shifted his stance.
The courtier glanced at him. His skin paled a little before he regained control of his expression. “My lady, would you walk with me?”
He apparently wanted to get away from Doyle. Maybe having the mercenary around would be good for some things. Perhaps those who wished to court her would think twice about wanting to get too close. Niamh didn’t mind that one bit. The queen’s own ruling may have foiled her plan for Niamh to have a suitor.
Niamh opened her mouth to respond, but Doyle spoke first. “At the moment, the lady doesn’t have time for that. If you would excuse us, we will be off now.” Doyle placed his hand against her back, nudging her forward. His hold was firm yet he was gentle with her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, surprised at the intriguing feelings that budded within her. Something about his touch soothed away her frustration.
The courtier tried to block their path, but Doyle’s hand went to the sword at his hip. “There’s no need for foolishness. Step aside.”
The would-be suitor puffed up his chest as if Doyle wouldn’t dare pull his sword on him. “I was talking with the Lady McNamara. Mind your place, mercenary.”
Surprise fluttered in Niamh’s belly, and Doyle shoved her to the side. Before she could comprehend what was going on, she heard a strangled gasp and a loud commotion erupted around them.
Doyle clenched the suitor’s throat, and poised his sword against the man’s cheek. Winter’s chill filled his gaze, and the temperature in the room dipped.
“Stop it,” she shouted, trying not to shiver. She didn’t dare move for fear that something bad would happen.
The tension in Doyle’s shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch, and he slowly backed away as if the courtier was some type of threat. From the astonished look in the man’s eyes, she highly doubted that.
Once she decided it was safe, she stepped away and continued down the hall. She had patience for neither of them after that display. Although, Doyle had shown his determination to protect her, even if he’d been a little too willing to do so.
Once back in her quarters at court, she closed the door then leaned against it.
Her elven maidens curtsied before her. Sadb and Maeve were sisters born from common elves who had sold them into servitude to be able to put food on the table. She hadn’t been looking to purchase new servants, but when she had spotted the menacing dark elf who had held interest in them, she’d known she’d needed to. Rumours around court were that his sexual fetishes ran towards torture and pain for his submissives.
“We’re going back to the manor,” Niamh said.
Sadb, the older sister, frowned at her. “We were supposed to be here until you found a suitor, my lady.”
Niamh knew why Sadb questioned her. The sisters enjoyed court life. To them, it was fascinating and exciting, seeing men and women of stature as well as others of their position. Interacting, socialising when they could. Things she should’ve found interesting and just as exciting, but she really didn’t.
“Plans have changed after…” She couldn’t quite get the words out. The attack on her had been scary and violent, and she remembered her attacker’s hands on her throat. The memory had her hand brushing against her neck idly. Her breath came out quicker.
Loud bangs reverberated through the door, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She leapt away from it then spun to face the entrance. The younger elven sister, Maeve, took her arm, then gently led her to a chair.
Sadb answered the door. She spoke in soft words, and Niamh couldn’t make out what she was saying even though she tried. After a moment, Sadb closed the door. When she faced Niamh, the elf’s eyes were wide.
“My lady, there is a man at the door who says he’s here to see you.” She hurried to Niamh’s side and knelt before her. “He’s… He—”
“Let him in.” She should’ve known he’d easily find her.
Sadb wobbled to her feet and pressed her hand to the wall for support. She stared at her as if she was going mad, but she went to the door and let Doyle in.
He gave a cursory glance around her room before his gaze met hers. The moment he did, she was happy to be seated, as otherwise her legs might’ve given out and she would’ve landed on her arse. Maybe the reason she reacted to him like that was his otherness, but she couldn’t be sure. She locked away those kinds of thoughts.
“You’re not supposed to leave my sight, Lady McNamara,” Doyle finally said. He crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes darkened with an edge of menace.
Niamh shot to her feet. She wouldn’t take his scrutiny sitting down. “I don’t think nearly assaulting a member of the court was something Queen Titania had in mind when she appointed you as my guard.”
His lip twitched as if she amused him. How dare he mock her!
Part of her wanted to rage at him, but he wasn’t worth it. She wouldn’t give him fuel for the fire. She crossed her arms under her breasts, daring him to comment further.
Doyle couldn’t stop the smirk curving his lips. She held herself so haughtily. Her arms were crossed, her chin tilted up, and there was anger in her eyes. His attention slid to her neck. Even though an unknown man had brutally attacked her a few days ago, she still had her fire.
He admired her for that.
“Are your things packed?” He looked at the two elven maidens who watched him from under their thick blonde eyelashes.
“Almost.” At her word, the elves went back to work, packing her belongings. They both disappeared into the curtained-off bedroom. It took a concentrated effort for him to not walk over to Niamh and stroke back the loose wisp of hair brushing her cheek.
Bloody hell. What kind of thoughts are these? He couldn’t let his slight admiration for her play tricks with his head.
“Stay in your quarters. I’ll go make the preparations for our departure.”
She frowned at him but nodded.
She wouldn’t have any trouble if she stayed in her room, at least he hoped not. Besides, she had the two elves to look after her. Not that he knew how helpful they would be in a fight, but she was within the palace walls, if any of them screamed, a guard would be alerted.
He grimaced as he left the room, then made quick work of arranging their transportation to her manor. He only had to walk into the stables, and the halflings there were quick to help him out, giving him priority over the others who waited for their mounts.
When he came back to Niamh’s room, something didn’t e
xactly feel right. The door was slightly ajar. Soft chatter met his ears as he leaned closer to the door before pushing it quietly open.
Niamh was sitting where he’d left her while a man sat in the chair opposite her. The courtier in the hallway had seemed like a spineless weakling, but this man held himself differently—he wasn’t weak by any means. Niamh was paying him a little more attention than the previous courtier, appearing to be interested in what he had to say.
“I’d love to get to know you better, Lady McNamara,” the man said, clasping her dainty hand in his.
Doyle cleared his throat, and Niamh surged to her feet, pulling away from the courtier. Her eyes widened in surprise as she snapped her gaze to meet his.
“My lady, I thought I said—” Doyle began.
“But I haven’t left my room.” She threw her hands into the air, and drew her attention back to the suitor.
Another reason he shouldn’t grow too fond of her. Powerful and wealthy men flocked to her. She could have any of them. He would prevent her from coming to harm, and that was all. He wouldn’t let his emotions toy with him. She was beautiful, but he’d watch her with a shielded heart. No pain would come to him that way.
“The carriage is ready. It’s time to depart.” He bowed his head and opened the door, urging the suitor away, but the man didn’t budge from his position, just sat with his fingers steepled, looking bored by the intrusion.
Niamh glanced from the open door to the courtier to Doyle. Blatant indecision wrinkled her brow, but she finally turned to the suitor. “My guard is correct. I do need to be leaving.”
The look on the suitor’s face darkened as he frowned at her. “Surely you do not need to leave this instant,” he said. His gaze swept over her body before it landed on her neck.
“I’m sorry, but I must. If you’ll excuse me…” From the cooling of her tone, Doyle could tell she’d caught the direction of his attention as well. “Sadb and Maeve, please see that my things are taken to the carriage.”
The elves dipped into curtsies before Sadb waved to her sister. Maeve disappeared out of the door for a moment. She came back with a young man who lugged Niamh’s bags away. They trailed after him, and Niamh got up to follow them. When she walked by the suitor, Doyle saw the courtier’s body tense as if to reach out and grab her, but he didn’t. Instead, he waited until she’d left, then made his way to the door.
Doyle blocked his way. He crossed his arms over his chest, daring the other man to do something.
The courtier watched him with malice in his eyes. “Back down, guard.”
“Leave Lady McNamara alone. I report to the queen. You would not want her upset with you.” Pride rose in Doyle’s chest at the narrowing of the courtier’s eyes. He apparently didn’t like that bit of information.
Finally, the suitor raised his palms outward as if in surrender, but there was no such sentiment in his eyes. “We’ll see what happens. I know that Queen Titania wants the lady to find a spouse, so if she develops a fancy towards me, then I’m sure the queen would be thrilled. You would be standing in the way, and I’m sure she wouldn’t want that, now would she?” A small smile quirked his lips as he brushed past Doyle.
Wariness settled into Doyle’s chest, and he turned on his heel to watch the man walk down the hall and out of sight. He knew something wasn’t quite right with the courtier. He was of the Seelie Court, for sure, but even Seelie fae could throw aside their happy ways to get revenge if someone wronged them.
Doyle strode after Niamh—now wasn’t a good time for her to be left alone. Not with his building suspicions about that suitor.
Chapter Three
After the long trip from court, Niamh relished walking through her manor’s gardens. Feeling connected with the peaceful, green countryside instead of crowded amongst the Seelie Court members reinvigorated her. She stretched her pale lavender wings, enjoying the feel of them pulsing with energy. Of course, she was constantly aware of Doyle’s watchful gaze on her.
She glanced over her shoulder at Doyle, who’d been pretending to be looking at the flowers, but he met her stare when she looked at him. He didn’t say anything, just watched her for a while before returning his attention to the greenery around them. Something within him had lightened since they’d first made it to her manor—he didn’t seem as serious as he had at court, though he was still vigilant. It was almost as if he were affected by nature, like a Seelie would be…
Shaking the thought away, she returned her focus to the lush surroundings around her, brushing her fingertips against petals and leaves as she passed them by, feeling life within the plants.
She stopped suddenly, then turned to face Doyle. He was within arm’s length. Ever since she’d met him a few days ago, her interest in him had blossomed like a rose, even though she wasn’t looking for a suitor. His mannerisms remained hard and neutral, yet she enjoyed catching a spark of humour in his eyes, or a smile playing upon his face while they were talking. Even if his amusement was irritatingly directed at her.
She made her way through the garden towards a pond in the middle. The ancient, heavy oak by the water shaded the garden during the day, and at evening, birds gathered among its branches. The tree was older than most of the garden and she’d always felt comforted under its shadow. The flow of life from the tree was steady and reassuring, unlike the crowded towns she’d been through on her way home from the Seelie Court. Here, she could finally relax.
Sitting on the grass, she looked out at the pond, reclining against the oak. Doyle made his way across to her, leaning his muscular form against the thick trunk of the tree.
“I have rarely had a chance to visit such a garden. You feel at ease here, don’t you?” he asked, his deep voice sounding even and calm.
“Busy cities and parties take their toll. Here, there’s not the constant babble of rumour and watchful eyes that follow your every move. Nature is direct and honest. There are no ploys, no tricks or dishonesty. I feel much more comfortable here.” Niamh sighed. “I don’t have to worry about the politics of court or the constant trickery played for fleeting favours from those in power.” She froze in place, surprised at her own honesty. How does this mercenary manage to affect me so?
“Those are quite the words coming from someone the queen is so interested in keeping safe. However, I agree. I keep my distance from others as well. But I have never found anywhere to belong.”
Silence stretched between them, until she thought he was through with talking. “It’s the nature of my work,” he continued. Although, she knew it was more than that from the rumours she’d heard. “Never grow roots. Stay on the move.”
The sounds of the birds chirping once again became their only music.
A while later, he sighed and looked up to the afternoon sky. “There will be rain soon. Best not stay out here when that happens. You don’t want to become ill. Let’s head inside,” he said, presenting his gloved hand to help her up.
Niamh considered his hand for a moment, then finally accepted it. He’d proved himself trustworthy, and while she wasn’t ready to admit it, she was attracted to him.
He pulled her to her feet, but his strength surprised her. She fell into his chest, which made him stumble back. He gripped her hips to steady her, and a spark of magic ignited between them. He looked at her as if startled. Maybe he’d felt it too.
She started to move away, but he spun them around so her wings were carefully pinned against the tree. Gasping, she brought her hands up to his chest, not sure whether she should push him away or pull him closer. Her arms wrapped around his neck of their own accord, question answered.
He held her close to him, pressing their bodies together. She stared into his eyes transfixed. He lowered his lips to hers, sweeping his tongue over her lower lip before prodding it inside her mouth. His kiss gained fervour, twirling their tongues together and exploring her mouth.
The warmth and magic of the tree soothed away any of her worries. He pulled back, apparently affecte
d by it too. His skin was ruddy with heat, his eyes wide. “Did you feel that…?”
“It’s nature’s magic, heady as a potent drug.” She smiled at him. This connection between them felt as natural and as right as the tree trunk against her spine. The fact that she’d been holding off allowing herself to connect to anyone before now simply didn’t matter, because none of those people had been Doyle, her handsome mercenary.
Echoing thoughts played in Doyle’s eyes. He lifted her up, and dipped his head back to take her lips again as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
She placed her hands on his strong, muscular shoulders and luxuriated in the feeling of him. Never before had a man touched her like this. She’d never allowed them to.
He leaned in, his hips nudging hers. His hard cock strained against her thigh, and even with all the layers of cloth between them, she nearly moaned at the sensation. He slid his hand lower to her small breasts, cupping one and rubbing his thumb over her nipple hidden beneath her dress.
Niamh gasped and closed her eyes. Even though she’d never desired closeness with anyone, she wanted more than simple caresses. The thought surprised her.
Without warning, he set her to the ground, and she snapped her eyes open. Maybe he knew her want of him and that’s why he’d pulled away?
However, just by looking at him, she knew that wasn’t the case. His shoulders were bunched up and he looked ravenous. He took her by the arms and she was on the ground before she knew what he was doing. He gripped the hem of her skirt and watched as he pushed it ever so slowly up her legs. When they had cleared her hips, baring her nakedness, his attention locked on the juncture of her legs.
She squeezed her thighs together at the pleasure she took from his gaze, and that simple gesture seemed to burn him up even more. He knelt on the ground next to her, then parted her legs. Heat flickered in his eyes when he looked at her aching pussy. He tightened his grasp on her legs, and moved between them.