Beguiled (41 page)

Then Maggie closed her eyes. She really hadn’t expected to lose. And in an instant, images of her life flashed in front of her in a sorry sort of slide show that had a well of self-pity rising up inside her. It was over and no way did she want to actually
watch
Mab’s sword come slicing down into her own chest.

She braced herself and waited for the pain.

Instead, a heavy weight dropped across her. A moment later, she heard Mab scream.

And then there was silence.

Maggie opened her eyes again, saw Culhane’s body draped over hers and saw Mab’s sword, jutting up from his back.

“Oh God!” Panic erupted as Maggie screamed and shoved at Culhane’s body to get him off her. He’d saved her by sacrificing himself? What the hell had he been thinking? Why would he do that?

Love
, her brain whispered.

He did it for
love
.

Then she heard his voice in her mind.
Must I die for you then, to prove my loyalty?
She cringed and felt tears well in her eyes as she remembered her response as well. . . .
That would be a good start
.

“No, it wouldn’t! Damn you, Culhane, no!” Maggie scrambled out from under him, rolled him onto his side and looked around wildly for help. Any kind of help. What she saw was Mab’s lifeless body—missing its head—lying nearby, with Quinn standing beside it and warriors and guards racing toward her.

And she didn’t care.

All she cared about at that moment was that her warrior was lying so still, his glorious eyes closed, a damn sword sticking out of his back. She yanked it free, tossed it to one side, rolled him over and stared down into his face.

Around her, she was just barely conscious of a crowd gathering. She couldn’t look at any of them. The guards or the warriors. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Culhane. She was too focused on keeping him alive and well. Yes, they were immortal, she thought wildly, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be incapacitated, wounded so mortally it might take generations to recover.

“Don’t you check out on me, you bastard,” she shouted, grabbing hold of his shirt and shaking him with what was left of her strength. “Open your eyes, Culhane! Open them. You’re not dead; you’re immortal! Damn it, somebody make him open his eyes!”

“Maggie . . . ,” Quinn’s voice, as if from far away. Sad. Quiet.

She didn’t want sad. She wanted pissed. Or helpful.

Screw sad.

“Damn you, Culhane,” she shouted again, on her knees now, pushing her face into his. “Wake up!” She slapped him. Once. Twice. Then she caught his face between her palms and kissed him hard and long and deep.

Now she knew. She knew just how much he meant to her. He loved her? She believed him. He wanted to make babies? She was ready.

When the kiss ended, she lowered her voice and hissed into his ear, “I do believe, Culhane. I believe in Faeries. I believe in everything you’ve ever told me. I believe in destiny and you’re
mine
. I believe you love me. I believe we’re freaking married. And I
believe
that if you die, I will kill you myself.”

He opened his eyes then, looked up at her and smiled. “You really are crazy, aren’t you?”

Relief poured through her, quickly followed by a flood of gratitude. Maggie laughed like a loon. “I must be, because I’m married to an arrogant know-it-all and I’m going to have babies who will have a pixie godfather and learn how to fly and—”

Culhane grinned, reared up and kissed her until Maggie was gasping for air.

“Are you really all right?” she asked.

“I will be.” He winced a little. “The blade was not iron, so I will heal quickly.”

“Then why the hell were you playing dead?”

“The sound of my love’s gentle voice was soothing me to sleep.” He gave her a wry smile.

“Very funny. I should be so pissed,” Maggie said, then smiled through her tears. “But honestly, I’m too glad you’re alive.”

“For which I am grateful, my Queen,” he said, then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, wincing with pain, but clearly willing to withstand it. When she reached out to help him, he shook his head.

Then he turned, scanning the faces of the males and females surrounding them. Battle-weary, bloodstained and filthy, they all smiled back at him. Quinn nodded, plucked Culhane’s sword from the ground and handed it to him.

Holding the tip of the blade high, Culhane glanced at their victorious troops, then shifted his gaze to Maggie. Smiling, he shouted, “Together we have accomplished what we could not have done separately. We have won the day. We have found new unity.”

Cheers broke out, a shouting chorus of triumph.

But Culhane wasn’t finished. Grinning widely, he called out, “To our Queen!”

And as one, the Fae Warriors, male and female, echoed his shout, slammed the tips of their swords into the bloody earth and went down on one knee in front of Maggie.

Epilogue

A week later, Maggie slipped into the palace living room and hoped her escape from the dining hall had gone unnoticed. Fighting Mab was one thing. Listening to Nora’s never-ending wedding plans was something else.

Her sister was bound and determined to have a “real” wedding. And since her pregnancy was so far along that Nora was spewing Fae dust regularly, like Old Faithful erupting, the wedding would be there, at the castle. If they all survived Nora’s incessant strategic meetings.

“Peace,” Maggie whispered, and walked across the room filled with cozy furniture, burning pine-scented candles and a roaring fire in the hearth. She glanced at the giant Christmas tree in the corner, blazing with real Faery lights, and the dozens of gaily wrapped packages lying beneath it.

Their first Christmas in the palace and so far it looked like a winner. In fact, she thought they just might start a new tradition for the Fae. She’d already heard that indoor trees were becoming quite the rage in the city.

And all over Otherworld, the males were beginning to come into their own. Sure there were a few problems, but mostly, things were looking good. Although Bezel was insisting that pixie rights should be the very next thing Maggie looked into.

She’d put it on her list. But all in all, life was good. Mab was defeated and she wasn’t coming back. Jasic was still spending quality time in his cell . . . until he earned his way back into the family, though Maggie was thinking she might spring him for a few hours on Christmas Day. Bezel had made up with Fontana and was now boasting a cherry red velvet suit. Devon was spending as much time at the palace as he was at warrior training and Eileen hardly floated at all anymore.

Claire and Mac were still at each other’s throats, which explained why Claire had gone back to the human world for a vacation before Christmas. And as for Maggie and Culhane . . .

She grinned to herself, reached out and jingled a bell ornament just to hear the chime. Real wedding or not, warriors really did make the best husbands. Of course, Maggie had already told him he could forget all about the dissolving-the-marriage thing. He was in this for eternity, so he might as well get used to it.

She was happy. Really happy for the first time in her whole life. She could hardly wait for her birthday, the day after Christmas. Culhane was taking her to Inia and had promised to keep her naked and—

“There is trouble,” Quinn announced as he and Culhane stalked into the living room.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Maggie complained, knowing that she’d jinxed herself again. “I was relaxed for what? Like ten seconds?”

Culhane came to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her neck. “It is nothing, Maggie. Nora has turned our fearless friend into a quivering pixie. Quinn is an old woman.”

At that insult, the other warrior blew up like a puffer fish. “This is not about Nora.” He glanced around the room. “She is not here, is she?”

“No,” Maggie told him, smiling. The big brave warrior had drawn his personal line at choosing flowers for Nora’s bouquet.

“Ah.” He sighed, then scowled, remembering his mission. “Maggie, the warriors are threatening to riot because the female guards are insisting on moving into the Conclave.”

“Seriously? That’s the big problem? Dorm troubles? Hello? You guys do magic, remember? Add another building for them,” Maggie said, and smiled, tipping her head to one side so Culhane could kiss the spot he’d missed.

He grinned and complied.

“That’s not all,” Quinn said, clearly disgusted with both of them. “There is talk that one of the sacred relics of Fae has been discovered in Ireland. If this is true, the rogue Fae will be after it.”

“Oh, for—” Maggie broke off and glared at Quinn. “Can I have one damn weekend? Can I just enjoy Christmas and my birthday? Eat too many cookies? Have some Chardonnay? Lots and lots of Chardonnay? Open presents? Can I just relax for a few days? Is that really too much to ask?”

Culhane grinned wider. “It is not, my Queen. Why don’t I see if I can help you with your relaxation?”

“Oooh,” Maggie said with a sigh, turning her back on Quinn to look up into the pale green eyes she loved so much. “Now that sounds like a good idea.”

“There is trouble!” McCulloch shifted into the palace living room, eyes fierce.

“What?”
Maggie and Culhane shouted the word together.

“I went to the human world to see Claire,” Mac said, gaze fixed on his Chieftain and his Queen. “I wished to bring the witch back to Otherworld. But her house had been ransacked. Claire is gone.”

About the Author

Maureen Child
is the award-winning author of more than one hundred romance novels and often says she has the best job in the world. A six-time RITA nominee, Maureen lives with her family in Southern California.