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Magnus’s feelings toward Seona were not the only thing that had changed. The woman herself had changed. She no longer curled her lip at him or glared when in his presence. She didn’t fight to free herself from his hold. Her hatred of wolfkind had disappeared, or so it seemed. The most dramatic change of all was that she chose to speak. To him. Since her rescue from Bantus’s lair, she’d said not a word to anyone save Anya, and even then never in the presence of another.
Perhaps her ordeal with Hyrk had made her see her situation in a new light. Or perhaps she was regrouping and preparing for a new attempt to flee from him. He would get to the bottom of it soon enough. In the meantime, he would not let down his guard.
As his knights escorted him past Chroina’s walls and through the city to Glendall, Seona seemed to grow stronger and more alert. Tawny, doe-wide eyes took in the crofter buildings, the shops, the men in the streets, and the five-story Fiona Blath that stood on the castle grounds.
This was her first time seeing the city, he realized with a start. Like the other rescued women, she’d been brought directly into Glendall through the magical doorway opened by the red gemstone—Hyrk’s gemstone. The other human women had been shown to the Fiona Blath soon after their rescuing. They would have at least seen the grounds separating the castle proper from the stately manor where the ladies lived. But Seona had been placed under guard in the Orange Blossom chamber adjoining his. She had not been outside as yet.
If she had asked, he would have allowed it, under guard of course for her protection, but she had not. Or at least, Anya had not passed along such a request to him. Perhaps, once they sorted out that she would not be running from him again, he could escort her on a tour of Chroina. But such pleasures would have to wait. There was much to do in light of Hyrk’s attack.
Holding Seona secure with one arm, he dismounted. She made it easy for him by wrapping her arm around his neck. Tingles raced up and down his spine at her touch, but he had no time to dwell on it. Cradling her close, he commanded his guards while stablemen took care of the horses.
“Riggs, Cadeyrn, you shall accompany me and Lady Seona. The rest of you, inspect the dungeon. Find out how Bilkes escaped. Then round up all my knights, and summon my war chieftain. We’ll conference in my solar in one hour.” He felt Seona’s gaze on him and liked being the center of her attention. Perhaps he stood a little taller as he found Daly, his head of household, awaiting instruction at his usual spot by the kitchen door. “Have a bath prepared in the Orange Blossom chamber then summon my physician.”
“Right away, Sire.” The elderly man raised his brows at the sight of Seona docile in his arms, but his manners were too impeccable for him to comment on it. Daly disappeared into Glendall, and Magnus followed. He strode to his private quarters with the footfalls of his knights in his wake.
It was no surprise to find Anya pacing his solar. As he passed the large, private sitting room, she bolted out and stopped short. Her mouth dropped open—probably because Seona still held on around his neck.
He did not acknowledge her as he continued into the Orange Blossom chamber and laid Seona on the high, elaborate bed.
“What happened? Is that blood on Seo—?” Behind him, Anya’s questions were cut off. He heard Riggs quietly assuring her, but his attention was all for the lovely, rebellious miracle before him.
Seona settled into the bed pillows. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves of glossy walnut. Dried blood streaked sections of it but did not mar her beauty. The paw print scar stood out starkly lavender against her porcelain cheek. Her eyes, much like Anya’s but lighter in color, fixed on him, inquisitiveness in place of their usual hostility. Despite her torn dressing gown and blood-caked skin, she held her head at a regal angle.
She looks like a queen.
Never before had she so closely resembled the portrait he’d commissioned after his prophetic dream. There was no doubt in his mind she had changed. But how much of it was an act meant to gain his trust until she chose to run again? Her betrayal stung anew.
By Danu, he’d almost lost her. He couldn’t bear for something like this to happen a second time. He wouldn’t stand for any more of this foolishness.
He paced alongside the bed. “Have I not fed you? Clothed you? Lavished upon you every imaginable luxury?” He motioned at the finery all around them before raking both hands through his hair. “Have I not saved you from that vile cell and the depraved whims of a madman?” His voice broke at the memory of how he’d found her and the other women. Huddled in the filthy dungeon beneath Castle Blackrock, tattered clothes hanging off bony bodies, faces branded with Bantus’s paw print marking. Worse was the fear in the eyes of some of them. And the abject nothingness in the eyes of a few, Seona included.
“Haud your wheesht! I’ll not have you raising your voice to my sister!” Anya’s voice cracked through the chamber like a whip, but just as quickly, Riggs made apology and whisked her out. No easy task, for Anya was not as fragile as her smaller human body suggested. Magnus would never forget she’d slain four of Bantus’s trackers and the king himself two moons ago, all to protect Riggs. Now she would fight to protect her sister.
He would assure her when he was finished here that no one—no one—would keep Seona safer than he would. And not just in body, but in mind. Just as he would not forget Anya’s bravery, he would not forget Seona’s suffering. Out of respect for all she’d been through, he reined in his temper.
Magnus turned to see the door close, leaving only Cadeyrn inside with them. After calming himself with a few breaths, he faced Seona again. “My apologies—”
But she was not sitting back against the pillows any more. She was on her knees on the bedcovers directly in front of him. The height of the bed put them eye to eye.
Her lower lip slid free from the hold of her small, even teeth.
He stared as the rosy flesh turned even redder after the mild abuse. How beautiful her mouth was. How beautiful she was. She needed to put on more weight to be truly healthy, but even malnourished and disheveled from the morning’s events, she stirred warmth in his core—in that place that only ever awoke when he indulged in fantasies of making the woman from his dream his lifemate.
She placed a slender hand along his cheek. The coolness of her touch thrilled him even through the coarse hairs of his beard. Her breasts, generously plump beneath her dressing gown, nearly brushed his chest. If he had taken time to put on armor today, he would have been deprived of the tingling awareness filling the space between them.
He cleared his throat. “My lady—” He stopped, unsure what he meant to say. He wanted to apologize for losing his temper with her. He should not have raised his voice. But he did not regret the sentiments he’d expressed. He would demand she answer for her actions. But the gradual swelling of his cock made it difficult to order his thoughts.
It was not like him to lack clarity of thought in the presence of a woman.
“You are magnificent when riled,” Seona said. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
All thought fled at the sensual press of her mouth on his. His body simply reacted, overwhelmed at having Seona act this way with him. His arms gathered her close. His hands roamed her head, her shoulders, her delicate face. His thumb stroked the paw print that perfectly matched the marking he’d seen in his dream.
Tender longing made him rub his mouth along hers. Back and forth, slowly. Their noses brushed. Their breath mingled. This was not the scripted kiss he opened with when he must bed a lady out of necessity, meant to turn both their thoughts to carnal activities so they could enjoy what was about to transpire.
This was sweetness in motion. This kiss burgeoned with a fullness of joy unlike anything he’d experienced with another woman. Seona was heaven in his arms. Pure, undiluted heaven.
Until he remembered himself. And he remembered Seona’s hatred and betrayal.
With hands on her shoulders, he set her away from him. The chill of separating from her bordered on pain. He refused to pay it heed.
“It will not work,” he said.
Her unfocused gaze came languidly back to attentiveness. “Hmm?” she said, touching her lips as though she could scarcely believe what they’d shared. An act, surely.
“I will not be seduced.” He released her and took a step back.
Her body swayed forward, as if seeking to restore contact with his. He would not allow himself to be fooled.
“I know where you lived in your Highlands,” he said. “What you did to survive. Your sister told me, hoping it would discourage me from—” He stopped.
He’d kept Seona in the chamber adjoining his, but he’d made no other attempt to inform her of his intentions. He’d not shared with her the fact she was promised to him by Danu in a sacred vision. He had determined not to burden her with such news while she hated him. Instead, he had resigned himself to slowly winning her trust and her heart. Knowing of her past did not dissuade him. Even if he did not love her the way he’d anticipated, he would still take her as his queen and bring new life into the world with her. This was Danu’s plan. Seona’s history with other men did not change the fact.
Seona frowned and sat back on her heels. Clearly, her body was fully mended. She showed no sign of pain or injury. The miracle of her life helped him keep a firm hold on his anger. He would be gentle with her.
“What I mean,” he began more calmly, “Is that I know you were a prostitute. I say this not to insult you, but to inform you that your skill at seduction will not work on me.”
She blinked wide eyes that held not an ounce of deceit. “Was I? How fascinating!” She spoke with unfocused eyes, as if to herself.
“You do not remember,” he said, surprised. Or was she pretending this too, like she pretended her newfound affection toward him? Anya had told many tales over the dinner table of bending the truth to her purposes and using her wits to accomplish her will. She’d admitted, in general terms, to bending men to her will as well, and Magnus had understood what she’d left unsaid—that she had used her body to do so. She had also mentioned that she’d learned such things from Seona.
Seona looked away and said, “My memory—seems to elude me just now.” Her brows drew together in an expression of frustration.
Concern drew him closer to the bed. Perhaps she was telling the truth. Perhaps this was a lingering effect of her fall. Studying her closely for subtle signs of injury, he said to Cadeyrn, “Find my physician.”
Just then, Daly entered with Ruben, one of the servant lads who attended the women in the Fiona Blath. They carried a hipbath between them. Julian, a servant in Glendall, brought a bucket of steaming water, and Alexander came in with two.
“I sent a lad to fetch Giles already, Sire,” Daly said as the lads poured the water. “I shall find out how soon he can arrive.”
Seona clapped her hands. “A bath! Oh, how heavenly!” Seeming to forget her consternation, she stepped gracefully from the bed and tested the shallow water with her fingers. No, not tested. Played with. She patted the water and splashed it lightly against the wall of the basin. Favoring Daly with a smile, she said, “How delightful! I forgot how wonderful water is. The sound it makes. The way it sparkles.” She laughed and beamed at Magnus. Then she dragged Ruben into a tight embrace. “My thanks. What a lovely treat you’ve brought me!”
With a panicked gaze Ruben sought Daly, who stared at the spectacle of a grateful, affectionate Seona. The head of household would not understand her words, since it was Magnus who held the translation stone, but judging by the shock on his face, he must be thinking the same thing as Magnus.
This was not the same Seona. The Seona who had enjoyed many baths in her time at Glendall, attended by Anya since she would not tolerate the presence of the servant lads. The Seona who refused to speak to anyone except her sister. The Seona who hated wolfkind one and all.
She released Ruben and wrapped Julian in her arms. Julian was quite a few years older than Ruben and of a height with her. Beneath his mop of black curls so like those of his brother, Riggs, his cheeks colored. “Pardon, my lady, but there’s more water to bring up.” He backed away from Seona and all but ran from the chamber with Ruben close behind.
“Precious,” Seona said. “How I’ve missed the children.”
“Daly,” Magnus said. “Quickly. Summon Giles again. Tell him it’s urgent.” The royal physician would discover what ailed her. Magnus would have to wait to interview her about her alliance with Bilkes until he knew she was healthy and of sound mind.
Unfortunately, not knowing when Hyrk might strike again, time was of the essence.
* * * *
Duff watched with amusement as an unladylike snort issued from the captive Seona. She reminded him greatly of her sister, Anya, whom Duff knew well, though she would not recognize him as Duff, Fae Lord of Darkness. If, however, he were to don his disguise as a mortal tinker who led a caravan of misfits, Anya would grudgingly acknowledge him as a friend, no doubt uttering her usual greeting, a curt “Gravois.”
Danu’s moonstone had led him to Anya, and just in time. If he’d arrived a day later, she might have died from her injuries, having fallen into a crevasse in her native Highlands. He was quickly learning that Seona was like her prickly and tenacious sister in many ways.
Glaring at his shadow through the bars, from the flawlessly beautiful face of his immortal friend, Seona spat, “What kind of fool would take a hoor for a wife?”
From his time with Anya, he’d known both sisters had served in a “bawdy house.” But Seona had disappeared from her post. As Gravois, he had helped Anya search for her sister. In the course of their travels, they’d visited establishments of pleasure across the Highlands and Lowlands, but no sign of Seona had been found. He now knew why—because she’d been in Bantus’s dungeon.
In answering her, he chose his words carefully. “One who has much to gain from such a union. And one who can provide much in return.”
“What can you possibly have to gain?” The question lacked venom. He had piqued her interest. “I have naught to offer. Even if I had a single possession to my name before coming to this place, I would have no means of laying hands on it. I suspect I am—dead.” Her voice was small now. Frightened.
“Perhaps you should be,” he said, sympathy tightening his chest. “But if that were the case, you would not be here in this physical place speaking with me. For I am very much alive. And I am very much a man in want of what you can provide.”
She didn’t know it, but she held within her Danu’s power, or at least what remained of it after she had created her moonstone, which would still be more power than a mortal could fathom. She would have no idea how to wield such power. In fact, if he managed to free her, she could be a danger, not only to herself, but to others. She could destroy entire realms in a fit of rage or sorrow or even joy.
If Seona agreed to wed him, that power would be his every bit as much as it was hers. He could use it to control her, to teach her. Once she’d learned, they could wield it together.
How he longed to get his hands on that power!
Not only could he break free from this fucking curse, but he could also challenge the one who had cursed him. The Fae King Arawn. What remained of Danu’s power would make them equals. Duff would stand a chance at defeating him. Then he could rule the Fae.
Instead of ruling with twin fists of power and fear, he would lead his people with fairness and affection. He would surround himself with those few friends who had never abandoned him, despite his being cursed to dwell in darkness. His court would be a place of loyalty and love, and the Fae would be stronger for it.
Of course, there was the problem of Danu. She would probably want her power back. That is, if she’d survived whatever Hyrk had done to Seona’s mortal body. She was his friend, after all. He could not simply steal her power from her.
But it was not he who had caused this switch. Whatever magic had done it, that was the source of the theft. Not him. He merely sought to help Seona manage the power she’d been unwittingly saddled with. And to help himself in the process, of course.
He would deal with Danu when the time came. For now, he had enough on his hands. If Anya had taught him anything, it was that a suspicious Scotswoman was hard to win over. But once won, she would make a formidable ally.
“What I can provide,” she said flatly, recalling him to their tête-à-tête. “You mean tupping. I can provide a warm cunny. Is that your game?”
Images and sensations from long ago accompanied her words. Danu’s lithe body beneath him, her lips parted around a moan of pleasure, ecstasy racing through him as he embraced the carnal dance.
They were memories. And desires for the future. Only it wasn’t his friend he wanted to take his pleasure with. It was this wary, defiant human locked in her body.
“Yes,” he said, because Seona would understand such desires and because it was the truth. Just not the whole truth. “I have been without a woman a long time.” Truth again. And again not the whole truth.
“If I agree, you’ll free me?”
“That is my intention, yes, love. But you should know my plan may not work.”
“If it doesna, you’ll no be gaining access to my body.”
“That goes without saying.”
He waited while she considered his offer. A minute passed. Then two.
“What are you?” she asked. “Are you some wretched troll with pustules on his cock?”
It was his turn to snort. Arawn, in his jealousy, had cursed Duff so that no being, mortal or immortal, could look on his perfect face and physique ever again. And this woman compared him to a troll. “Do I sound like a wretched troll, love?”
She made a noise like a harrumph. He’d heard Anya make that noise when she was not impressed with something he had said. It brought a smile to his lips. “How am I to ken what a troll sounds like?”
His smile broadened. “I am no troll, dear. I am Fae, what your people would call the fair folk.” He saw no reason to keep it from her. In fact, he suspected a little honesty would go a long way with this woman.
“Y—you are Fae?” Her voice trembled with awe. “Your kind are immortal. Tricksters. What would ye want with a mortal like me?”
“Aye, love. I am a trickster. An immortal. I will not pretend with you. I have reasons for wanting to wed you that go beyond the carnal. But make no mistake. I do want your body. I will have your body. I also swear to protect your body and provide for you for all time.” She had the power to provide for herself, but she didn’t know that yet. She would understand the assurances of safety and provision. He knew this because he’d known Anya and the kinds of things she had valued. “You will not regret becoming my wife. This I vow. And, you should know, love, my cock is quite free from pustules. In fact, once you become acquainted with it I think you’ll rather enjoy it.”
“Cocky bastard, you are, aye? Ye make a bonny speech, but ye ken I am a used up hoor. I am worthless.”
He hated that word with fierce passion. “You are not worthless. No one is worthless. Each life has value. Without exception.” If he accomplished nothing else by marrying her, he would prove to this woman her own worth.
“Very well,” she said wearily. “Broken, then. No one of sound mind should want me, never mind one of the fair folk. Your kind are credited with otherworldly beauty and great power, no? Do you nay have a fairy lass, lovely and magical, to take as your wife?”
“No Fae woman will have me. I am cursed, shamed at the whims of our king.” Most marriages among his people occurred as part of the eternal battle for position. Once, he’d been a prime target for both men and women aspiring to the king’s court. He’d taken liberal advantage of the fact. But ever since Arawn’s curse marked him as the lowest of the low, he’d had no status to offer. How quickly his pool of bedmates had dwindled then. Without his looks, without his position in Arawn’s court, he’d been called worthless for centuries by his fellow immortals.
So he’d found worth in the mortal realm. Danu’s moonstone had provided the means—the disguise of an eccentric tinker. No immortal would consider Bastien Gravois as anything other than a mortal meddler with an interest in outcasts rejected by their own. Like him. The disguise had given him a way out of the darkness right under Arawn’s nose, and the self-absorbed king had never even noticed.
“Cursed?” she asked.
“I am chained to the darkness. It imprisons me as surely as these bars imprison you. No being can lay eyes on me, for darkness is my infallible, eternal cloak.”
During a moment of silence, he thought she wouldn’t respond. Or that she would respond with mockery. But she said quite soberly, “Peas in a pod, we are, aye? What did you do to earn such a curse?” She did not mock him. She did not judge him. This more than anything else revealed that despite her trials, a streak of compassion colored her soul.
“I seduced the Fae king’s concubine. He did not take his cuckolding with grace.”
“Men never do. Does that mean you were once a courtier to the Fae king?”
“Yes. Long ago.”
“Before the darkness,” she said thoughtfully.
“Yes.”
Seona fell quiet. She would be considering his proposal. He gave her the time she needed, knowing full well she would agree. The possibility of freedom would outweigh her wariness.
“I suppose we’ll be tupping with the lantern off, then,” she said at long last.
He grinned. “If I have my way, love, we’ll honeymoon on the brilliant shores of Faerie.” With her power flowing through him, Arawn’s curse would be nothing but a few millennia of memories. “Now, tell me how you managed to slip away from King Magnus.” Someone had to have helped her. He would find out whom and then he would be one step closer to finding the missing Hyrk and freeing his bride-to-be.
