Authors: Debbie Mazzuca
King of the Isles (19 page)
Chapter 17
Evangeline crept into the candlelit room. She needed to see for herself that Iain would recover then she’d return to the Seelie Court. But if Rohan had found out what she’d done, perhaps he, too, would condemn her. Was Syrena right, did she see danger where none existed? Would she protect the Fae at any cost?
She looked down at Iain, sucking in a horrified breath at the scar that ravaged the left side of his handsome face. His leg, thickly bandaged, was rigged in a contraption that raised it several inches above the bed he lay so still upon. The once ruggedly virile man was pale and emaciated—a mere shadow of his former self.
With the evidence of the pain her decision had caused staring her in the face, she lowered herself weakly into the chair beside the heavy oak four-poster bed. Somehow she would make it up to him. She tried to think of what she could do to ease his pain and began compiling a list in her head. A movement beneath the white counterpane drew her attention. She tilted her head, watching as the lump at Iain’s side wriggled and squirmed. She reached over to lift the covers, only to realize Iain had awakened. A weak smile curved his lips when she drew back the covers to reveal a silky blond head of curls nestled against him. Ava, Syrena’s daughter. Evangeline hesitated, not relishing the prospect of waking the little hellion.
“Nay, leave her be. She’s better than heated stones fer keepin’ me warm.” His voice was rough and scratchy.
Evangeline sat on the edge of her chair. “How did she get in here?”
He shrugged, then winced. “Syrena warded Dunvegan.”
Evangeline cast a worried glance around the dark-paneled room. Syrena’s spells never turned out quite as one expected. “I’ll take care of it before I leave.” Considering his remark regarding the little girl’s warmth, she conjured several blankets, then stood to carefully tuck them around him.
He angled his head, a question in his eyes. She lifted a shoulder. “I thought perhaps you were cold.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled, relieved she had done at least one thing right. “I noticed your throat sounded dry. Would you like some water?”
“Nay, but I wouldna mind some ale.”
“Of course.” She conjured a tankard of ale and a mug. Setting them on the bedside table, she took several minutes to prop the pillows at his back to her satisfaction. Once she had, she held the mug to his lips. Nodding when he’d had enough, she set it aside.
“Evan ...”
She dabbed at his mouth and chin with a cloth. “There. Would you like something to eat? I—”
He frowned, the movement puckering his stitched wound. “Evangeline, what’s goin’ on?”
Plucking at her robes, she said, “I don’t know what you mean.” “Aye, I think you do.”
Averting her gaze, she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I ... want. I need ... to apologize to you. I’m very sorry, Iain. It’s my fault you were injured.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “You caused the storm?”
“No, I ...” She sighed, and for the third time that day she repeated what she had done. And after explaining to the one person her decision had most affected, she realized what everyone had been trying to tell her. For the first time in her life Evangeline conceded, if only to herself, maybe she’d been wrong after all. Her shoulders bowed under the weight of her heavy heart. She prepared herself for Iain’s condemnation, his anger. She deserved it.
“Evangeline. Look at me, lass.”
She raised her gaze to his. Instead of seeing censure, she saw understanding.
“’Tis all right. In truth, I wish Uscias had left me there.” He drew his gaze from hers, staring vacantly at the opposite wall.
Instinctively she knew it was not his injury but his sorrow at losing his wife that made him say such a thing. She hesitated for a moment, then reached for his hand. “She was with you, you know. Glenna. Aurora saw her. She believes it was your wife who gave her the vision in hopes we would help you.”
Her heart ached at the look of sorrow etched on his face, the shimmer in his amber eyes. He withdrew his hand from hers. “If you doona mind, I will try to get some rest.”
“Yes, of course. Would you like me to take Ava?”
“Nay, but mayhap you can do that wardin’ thing you do so she canna just pop in and out whenever she pleases.”
“I will ... and,” she conjured a bell, placing it within easy reach, “if you need me, just ring and I shall come.” She’d decided she would stay and see to Iain’s care. At least until she assured herself he was out of danger.
He held her gaze. “I understand why you did what you did. You doona have to make amends, Evangeline.”
“Thank you. I think you’re the only one who does. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to stay and help for a while.”
“Suit yourself. And you can tell my family I doona hold you responsible and that I will take offense if they continue to do so.”
She nodded, unable to get her thanks past her painfully tight throat. Closing the door softly behind her, she leaned against it and swiped at the moisture gathering on her lashes.
“Evangeline.”
She groaned and turned her back. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation with Lachlan.
His hand came down heavily upon her shoulder. “Doona worry, Evie. I’ll speak to Iain. I’ll make him understand ye didna mean him harm.”
The gentleness in his tone as much as what he said took her by surprise. She snuck a peek over her shoulder. He didn’t look as though he’d taken leave of his senses, nor did anyone hold a sword at his back, at least not from what she could see. “Thank you, but that will not be necessary. Your cousin does not hold me accountable for his injuries, not like the rest of you.”
“Aboot that, Evangeline, I—”
At the sound of the bell clanging loudly from within Iain’s chamber, she said, “Excuse me, I must see to your cousin.” Anxiously, she pushed past him. Ava, an impish grin on her angelic face, lay across Iain with the bell gripped tightly in her hands, swinging it for all she was worth.
Evangeline rushed to the bed, scooping Ava into her arms. “I’m sorry. Did she hurt you?” Balancing the child on her hip, Evangeline held the bell while she straightened his covers.
“Nay, I’m sure my ears will stop ringin’ momentarily.”
Tightening her grip on the squirming child, Evangeline stumbled when there was nothing left to hold on to. Ava had disappeared.
“Let me guess. Syrena warded Dunvegan,” Lachlan said dryly from behind her.
Evangeline’s heart tripped at the sight of Ava in her uncle’s arms, staring up at him adoringly. The little girl was as beautiful as Lachlan. “I’ll ward the castle,” she murmured, setting the bell back on the table.
“Ah, Evangeline, ye fergot somethin’.” Lachlan held Ava out to her expectantly.
“She seems content with you.” Much more so, Evangeline knew, than she would be with her. “Iain, is there anything I can get for you?”
“Nay, I’m good.”
“Just let me fix ...” Leaning over him, she adjusted the pillows, then smoothed and retucked the blankets. Hands on her hips, she looked over the bed with a critical eye. “I think you could use ...” She conjured two more feather pillows, carefully stuffing them beneath his elevated leg. Noting the dampness of his chambers, she glanced to the hearth across the room. The fire little more than a few dying embers, she wiggled her fingers and reignited it.
“Evangeline,” Lachlan said, a thread of panic in his voice.
She spun on her heel and her jaw dropped. Ava, mimicking Evangeline, wiggled her fingers and ignited a fire at the foot of Iain’s bed. With a quick wave of her hand, Evangeline extinguished the flame—reaching Ava just in time to catch her fingers before she raised them again. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“Ye’d best take her,” Lachlan said, pushing the little girl into her arms. Ava kept a hold on her uncle causing Lachlan to bump into Evangeline. She stumbled and he wrapped an arm around her waist. Held tight against him, a tingle of awareness rippled through her. “I think she wishes to remain with ...” Ava disappeared.
Evangeline steadied herself with a palm pressed to Lachlan’s chest.
“Syrena!” Aidan bellowed from below them in the castle.
“Mayhap it would be a good idea fer ye to get those wards up.” Lachlan grinned. He held her close, his gaze roaming her face.
“Yes, I think you’re right.” She couldn’t seem to make herself move away from him and he made no attempt to release her. If anything, he held her closer.
“After ye do, Syrena wants to celebrate our union.”
“I didn’t think ... You said—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “I ken what I said, and I wish I could take it back. I’m sorry, Evie.”
She shook her head, lifting her eyes to his. “No, you were right. All of you were. I—”
“Shh, we’ll talk of it no more,” he said, smoothing the hair from her face.
“If you doona mind takin’ yer discussion elsewhere, I’d appreciate it.”
Lachlan searched his cousin’s face. “Sorry, Iain,” he said quietly.
Iain sighed. “Nay, ’tis me who should apologize. I hope you’ll both be verra happy.”
Evangeline’s heart went out to Iain. How difficult it must be for him to see them together. Newly wed, with their future before them, reminding him of all that he had lost. She started at the thought. No, her and Lachlan’s union was nothing like Iain and Glenna’s. They were ... friends.
Seated in the grand hall drinking ale with his brother and cousin, Lachlan gritted his teeth at the ringing of the bell. He was sorely tempted to go upstairs and tell his cousin what he could do with the bloody thing. For the last two days, Evangeline had no time to spare him. She was too busy waiting on Iain.
“Ye canna be jealous of yer own cousin, a grievously wounded cousin at that.” His brother eyed him speculatively over his mug.
“What are ye talkin’ aboot? I’m no’ jealous.”
“I doona ken aboot that. What do ye think Rory, jealous or no’?”
“Jealous.” The two grinning fools sitting across from Lachlan clinked their mugs together, sloshing ale on the scarred wood.
“The two of ye are in yer cups.”
“Aye, and our wives are drivin’ us to it. Ye wait until Evangeline is heavy with yer child and ye’ll see what ’tis all aboot.”
Lachlan choked, spewing his ale. Wiping at his tunic, he cursed his brother. The last thing he wanted to envision was Evangeline carryin’ his bairn. “Our marriage is no’ like yers. We’ll no’ be havin’ bairns.”
His brother and cousin gaped at him. “What do ye mean, yer marriage is no’ like ours?” Aidan asked, his brow furrowed.
Lachlan hadn’t intended to blurt it out in that manner, but mayhap it would be best if the two men knew so they wouldn’t expect more of his and Evangeline’s union. “We were forced to wed. If I didna marry Evangeline, Magnus would have petitioned Rohan fer her hand.”
Aidan’s gaze hardened. “Ye did the right thing. I wouldna have wanted to see her tangled up with the likes of him.”
Rory chuckled. “I doona ken. I think our Evangeline can take care of herself.”
“Well, that is no’ all of it. Rohan has made it clear he would no’ stop until he saw me wed. Evangeline was as good a choice as any.”
“So ye’re sayin’ ye doona love the lass and yer marriage, fer all intents and purposes, is a sham?”
His brother and his questions were beginning to grate on Lachlan’s nerves. “Nay, ’tis no’ a sham. It serves us both well. Most marriages are no’ like the two of yers. We like each other, fer the most part.”
Lachlan shifted uneasily under his brother’s intent gray gaze. “I wanted more fer ye than a marriage of convenience, Lan. I wanted ye to have what I have with Syrena. What Rory has with Aileanna.”
“I doona. This I can handle, Aidan. I doona want bairns. I ... I’m content.”
“And Evangeline, are ye sure she will no’ expect to be loved, to have children?”
“Nay, she lives only to protect the Fae and is as satisfied with the arrangement as I am.”
“She may be now but I wonder how long ’twill last. Women are notorious fer changin’ their minds.”
His grip tightened on his mug, uneasy at the thought his brother could be right. He chastised himself. What did a pair of drunken fools know? Evangeline accepted they would be companions and nothing more.
His cousin’s brow furrowed. “You mean to hold true to yer vows, doona you? You’ll be faithful to the lass?”
Gritting his teeth, Lachlan grated out, “Aye.”
Aidan angled his head to study him. “Do ye plan on becomin’ a monk, then?”
“Fer Chrissakes, I may no’ be in love with my wife but it doesna mean I doona want to ...” He scowled at the pair of them, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m no’ talkin’ aboot this with the two of ye.”
“I’ll no’ ask ye anythin’ more if ye answer me this one question.” His brother arched a brow expectantly.
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