Beguiled (23 page)

“My warriors.”

“
My
warriors,” she corrected, pushing one hand through her hair, to get it out of her eyes so she could give him a hard glare. “Isn’t that what you told me? The warriors were mine to command? That as Queen, I’m the one who calls the shots?”

“I am taking
nothing
from you!” His shout rang throughout the room, reverberating off the crystal walls. One hand dropped to the sculpted back of the throne and squeezed until his knuckles turned white. “You insult us both if you believe I am with you only to use you.”

“I want to believe that,” she told him, staring up into the eyes that had mesmerized her from the first.

“Then do so.” He reached for her and his hands on her upper arms were strong and sure and the heat from his body poured into hers like a salve.

Whether she completely believed in him or not, she had to trust him with this. Had to have faith that he would be the warrior hero she needed so desperately at the moment.

“Okay, Culhane. We’ll call a truce, because I really need you right now.”

“What is it?” Instantly, he was on alert.

She told him about Claire’s vision. About the wards they’d put up around her house and that she needed help in keeping Eileen safe.

“Even Mab would not hurt a child,” he whispered.

“Hope you’re right,” she said, “but I don’t want to bet on Mab having a good side.”

“No, we cannot take that risk,” he agreed, pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her, nestling her head against his chest, so that she heard the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her ear. “And we won’t. Eileen will be safe, this I promise. We’ll hide her at the Conclave. No one can get in there unless invited by a warrior.”

“What if Mab’s got some fans among your clan?”

He smiled and stroked her back. “She does not. We will protect Eileen. You have my word.”

“Thank you.”

“You do not need to thank me for protecting what is important to you.” He pulled her back so that she could look up at him. “My life, my honor, are yours to command. I will stand between you and danger, Maggie. Always.”

“Oh, wow . . .” Maggie was a goner and she knew it.

What woman wouldn’t have been? Everything inside her heated, going silky and soft.

“Wait here. I will go to Quinn and send him to your house.”

He shifted, leaving her alone in the quiet, her nerves hammering, body simmering. Culhane was back an instant later, though, and when she looked at him, he said simply, “It is done. Quinn will remain with Nora and Eileen until we bring them to the Conclave.”

“I want to thank you again,” she said with a smile.

His luscious mouth curved at one corner. “If you must . . .”

Then he kissed her, his mouth taking hers with a fever of need and desperation that jangled every nerve in Maggie’s body. Wrapped in the heat of him, she forgot everything but what he could make her feel. And she gave herself up to the wonder of it.

She hadn’t come here expecting this. But she wouldn’t turn from it, either. His hands were everywhere, touching, exploring. Maggie squirmed against him and itched to get out of her clothes, feel skin on skin, heat on heat. She hungered. She needed. He was the missing part of her and only by joining with him could she feel complete again.

How had he become so important to her so quickly? How had she ever lived without the feel of him against her hands?

She scraped her palms up and under his shirt, defining every sculpted muscle on his back. He hissed in a breath and deepened the kiss, tongue plunging deep, to tangle with hers in a needy dance of desire.

Blood sizzling, heart thumping, Maggie leaned into him, offering more, taking more. She wanted all of him and couldn’t seem to get close enough.

“Now,” he murmured, tearing his mouth from hers.

“Now? Huh? What?” Shaken, stunned, she wobbled unsteadily as he smiled down at her.

“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—”