The Highlander's Dark Seduction (Secrets of the Darroch Clan) (3 page)

Her pulse pounded faster. Harder. Her throat went dry as her gaze dipped to Magnus’s well-shaped mouth, the lower lip full and soft, the upper one perfectly sculpted.

“Dinna look at me thus, fair one,” Magnus growled softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I have travelled too far to bring ye safely to Invergale. I will nae risk—”

Not listening to a word, Elizabeth screwed up her courage. Told her practical side to close her eyes. And kissed Magnus Darroch.

Chapter Two

Elizabeth was more tempting than a
sidhe
beauty sent to undermine his cause and make him forget his own name with her feminine wiles.

Magnus had withstood sensual onslaughts by skilled and knowing
fae
females who sought to distract him from his sworn duty to protect the door into the human world at Invergale. Ever since he’d been cursed as a time-walker along with his brothers, Magnus had worked tirelessly to prevent the
sidhe
enemy from working their dark magic on mere mortals.

Elizabeth’s kiss was no dark magic though. The tentative brush of her lips over his was like an angel’s sigh, soft and sweet. The silk of her skirts grazed his bare calf on one side of the mount, her slight curves all the more apparent now that he cradled her in his arms for the ride to Invergale. With every jostle of the horse, her hip shifted slightly against his abdomen, teasing a response from him that proved wretchedly inconvenient for a man charged with her safety.

But that angelic kiss…

She smelled like lavender and roses, her hair sliding loose from the confines of twined plaits. He wanted to bury his nose in the golden silk, but he needed to resist that urge as much as he needed to tamp down the desire to explore her mouth more thoroughly. Or the yearning to rein in the mare and find a soft spot among the pine needles to lay down this tender female and answer all the hesitant sensual interest her kiss revealed.

And yet, even if he hadn’t been a cursed man, he had no business touching her. Now or ever. She would not remain in his world for long.

Easing away from her with more regret than she would ever imagine, Magnus broke off the kiss. He forced his features into a bland expression, an effort almost undone when he noticed her eyes were still closed, her dark lashes fanned over creamy cheeks tinged with a rosy blush. His keen, predatory eyes saw all this despite the late hour, his senses as sharp as a hound’s after decades of searching for an enemy who could move like quicksilver.

But he did not believe in losing his judgment to the wiles of a woman, not after seeing the way his father’s love for a
sidhe
female had cursed the family for an eternity.

“Elizabeth.” His voice, at least, contained the right amount of brusqueness to startle her eyes open. Little did she know the rasp in it was the result of ruthless restraint on his desire for her.

“I don’t know what came over me.” A hand flew to her cheek. To cover her blush or to cool it, perhaps, with her fingers? “I keep thinking that I am dreaming and that I will awaken any moment, but that does not excuse…” She shook her head, brow furrowed lightly.

Although she attempted to shift away from him, their nearness was a matter of safety so he could not afford to give her much space. Even if the scent of lavender and roses was nigh on ready to shred his thin resolve.

“I spent many a day wishing I were dreaming this cursed life too.” He steeled himself against the lure of her. Against the thought of her soft arms and hidden passions. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself the pleasure of a mortal woman’s touch?

“Who are you really?” Elizabeth asked him, her gaze on the road ahead now instead of him. “I know I have asked before, but I have been trying to make sense of this night and have not connected all the pieces. Please, explain to me once more. How is it you came to be here, dressed as a Highlander of old, in an enchanted wood?”

“They are cursed, not enchanted.” He swore harshly. “To think otherwise is to risk being swept off into the arms of some
sidhe
lordling who seeks to waylay you forever and feed off the sweetness of your youth. That is what happened to my sister long ago. She drew the attention of a
sidhe
male who ventured close to Darroch lands through a door at Invergale.”

Magnus guided the horse faster, the mare as touched by the curse of his world as him. Together, they could cover ground more swiftly than mortal flesh, and even walk through time on the nights that it was Magnus’s turn to bear the burden of roaming, his feet incapable of staying still. But if Elizabeth noticed that they moved faster than usual, she did not speak of it.

So he told her the history of the Darrochs while keeping his arms wrapped round the sweet softness of her. The story of how his father, Fergus, had spotted a beautiful
sidhe f
emale and begged her to stay in the mortal realm to ease his loneliness after the death of Magnus’s mother. Fergus had urged her to defy her powerful family and forsake her immortal life, which she did, raising Magnus and his brothers as her own until her death.

For years, the Darrochs thought that was the end of it. They were raised at the edge of
sidhe
lands and occasionally spotted them along the banks of Loch Eilein, but they had lived peacefully enough. Until, that is, the youngest Darroch had turned eighteen. The
sidhe
retaliated by stealing Magnus’s sister, luring Shannon into their realm by sending out a young lord of their own, a bastard who kissed her into forgetting who she was and her duty to her own clan. She disappeared with him and the arrogant cur who’d stolen her had returned to brag of the feat and to curse Magnus along with his two brothers to search for her forever. Their fate to wander eternally—and to search fruitlessly—had lasted one hundred years with no change.

That is, until a mortal woman confessed her love for Iain. When Elizabeth’s friend, Lily, had arrived at Invergale and declared herself ready to accept the fate of the
sidhe
to live and love at Iain’s side, his curse had fallen away. He now lived a mortal life at Invergale as laird, just as he would have a century before if not for
sidhe
revenge.

“It’s like a folk tale,” Elizabeth mused at the end of his family history, her blue-gray gaze searching the edges of the wood as if she expected to see fae creatures spring from the bushes at any moment. “A dark curse broken by love.”

“We do not know for sure what broke it,” he warned, grateful to see Invergale ahead of them and the dark waters of Loch Eilein around it. “And while Iain no longer wanders, the fact is that now Alexander and I must roam more often, taking turns each night to search for our sister as we grow ever wearier. Perhaps the
sidhe
hoped this would weaken Darroch defenses for the next assault upon the mortal world.”

The brothers had mused on it almost daily since Iain had become rooted in the mortal realm.

Elizabeth gasped as the mare’s hooves trekked down a rise toward the weather-worn walls of the Darroch family holding, Invergale.

“Is that your home?” She shifted against him to see better in the light of dawn, her gentle curves a soft reminder of all he would never have.

“Forever ago.” He needed to bring her to her friend and the sooner the better. He would have no need to touch or see Elizabeth Harrison again. “Now it is Iain and Lily’s domain.”

“Lily.” Elizabeth nodded. “I cannot wait to see her and prove to myself that I do not dream this…” she fluttered a hand about to encompass him and the lands around them “…strangeness. I am sorry for your fate, Magnus, but I hope that Iain’s freedom from this curse is a sign that you and your brother will be delivered from it soon as well.”

Frustration stiffened his shoulders for he knew that nothing could be further from the truth. But his burdens were not hers to carry. He should be happy she was saying goodbye. Wishing him luck.

The mare’s hooves found a clear path on worn cobblestones in a recently cleared courtyard, the Invergale lands slowly returning to life under the hand of a real laird again. The thought made a lump rise in Magnus’s throat. Or mayhap it had more to do with setting Elizabeth free. If only his father had possessed as much restraint, none of them would be sworn enemy of the
sidhe
.

“Your friend awaits you.” Magnus slid easily from beneath her and swung a leg over the mare to help her dismount. She had little experience with horses for she all but fell into his arms.

It was a good thing he moved with the swiftness of an immortal
sidhe
himself, or she might have fallen to the ground.

“Oh! Sorry.” She clung to his shoulders, her nails lightly biting into his flesh through the fabric of his plaid. Bits of lace from her bodice found its way beneath the wool of his garb as she slid, their clothes lightly tangling. But the silk of her gown slipped over him easily enough, the pliable material giving him an ample feel of her body. “Thank you.”

Her words were a breathless caress against his cheek and still she did not let go. For that matter, neither did he. His hands were planted on her waist, suspending her above the ground so that she remained at eye level with him.

Chest to chest. Hip to hip.

Or at least, close enough to tantalize him with memories of her taste. The feel of her mouth against his.

“You must go to your friend,” he reminded her, holding her tight.

“I am.” She nodded and did not move. “That is, I will.”

His hands seemed seared to her sides, sealed to her. Why did she feel like a part of him after just one night spent together? Perhaps it was because he had saved her. He felt responsible for her, maybe.

“Do not venture from the keep,” he reminded her. “My brother will protect you.”

He trusted Iain completely, yet he hated him in that moment.

“Will I see you again?” She bit her lip and clung to him a bit tighter.

His heart,long absent from his chest,squeezed tight in a painful ache, reminding him why he’d ignored the thing for so long. He closed his eyes and put Elizabeth on her feet. Away from him.

“Nay.” Forcing his eyes open again, he watched her with the backdrop of his old home behind her. He longed for both of them. “Never.”

Yet even as he spoke the word, the familiar hum along his skin began.

His skin prickled. Tingled.

“Do you hear something?” Elizabeth hugged her arms around herself as she peered up at the sky.

Iain emerged from the keep through the front entrance, a sword in his hand.

“Get her inside!” his brother shouted, waving Elizabeth toward him and toward the safety of Invergale.

The
sidhe
were coming. Again. Elizabeth watched the silver streams of light coming toward her as if it was no more than a lightning storm or a comet streaking through the sky.

Fear clogged Magnus’s throat. For her, him and everyone else nearby.

“Go!” He turned her toward the keep and pushed her in the direction of his brother. “Lock yourself inside and do not come out.”

She took two halting steps and turned.

“What about you?” She had to shout the words since the buzzing of the oncoming
sidhe
was loud enough for her to hear.

What did it mean that the
sidhe
had followed her here, had tracked their progress all through the night and still came after her? Them?

“I would send them to their graves if they were mortal,” he vowed. “As it is, they will only wish they were dead.”

Before she could reply, Iain had her in his grasp and Magnus was sprinting away from her and all that was good and tempting, forsaking life and love for the battle he did not choose. He ran toward the silver light. Toward his personal hell and a war that never ended.

Chapter Three

“What is happening out there?” Elizabeth stumbled into the foyer of the massive stone tower of Invergale, her slippers sliding on cold cobblestones as she almost fell into the man Magnus had called his brother.

“Elizabeth!” A familiar voice shouted her name.

Straightening, Elizabeth turned to find her childhood friend, Lillian Desalles, briefly the Viscountess Broadville, and now—apparently—bride to Magnus’s brother, Iain. She scarcely recognized Lily who had once attired herself in jewels and silks for every ball in New York and, later, London. Now, her friend wore a simple wool gown of deep green, her long, fawn-colored hair dressed in a single plait that rested along her shoulder instead of elaborately knotted and curled.

“Lily!” Elizabeth rushed across the stone floor and into her friend’s outstretched arms while a man who looked like a slightly older Magnus bolted the front door with a mammoth crosspiece of iron.

“You are safe inside our home now! I have missed you and feared for you.”

Lily gathered her up in a hug as if they were still schoolgirls in New York. For a moment, Elizabeth let herself forget worries and confusion over this strange place and the handsome man who’d turned her world upside down with a devilish look and a seductive brogue. She would have continued thus, clinging to the past, even bringing up a shared memory to giggle over, except her eyes were drawn by a strange glow. Looking aside, she saw that even with the castle door closed, silver light shone under the bottom with unnatural brightness from outside. She held tight to her friend, as tightly as Lily held back, their eyes trained on the strange sight even as Iain Darroch pointed toward the winding staircase to the right.

“I must protect the door in the tower chamber. Lily, you will be safest in the kitchen storeroom. It has the sturdiest lock.” He took two strides closer, his long legs bringing him face to face with Lily.

He kissed her hard on the lips with a familiarity that would have set London tongues wagging at such a familiarity outside of their private chambers. Lily leaned into the moment with a depth of feeling that gave Elizabeth a sharp pang of envy for their obvious love. She thought immediately of her kiss with Magnus. Had it moved him at all? He’d appeared so calm afterward while her heart had beaten erratically ever since. The effect he had upon her was so great she trembled at the thought of him outside doing battle with…she barely understood what.