Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

" L achlan, what are you doing?"

"I can never seem to get you alone, can I? You've time for audiences with the king. Meetings with the unicorns, the dragons. Even a kelpie , for fuck's sake. And gods know my brother, the blasted—" He flung the curtain back and shouted at the servants who were loitering in the small chamber. "Out!"

"Sorry, my lord." They scuttled out, and Carys wrenched herself out of Lachlan's arms.

"What are you doing?" She pointed at the curtain. "Do you realize that Cadell is going to burst through that curtain any moment and tell you to go to hell?"

"Not if you tell him to stay away." Lachlan stepped toward her, pressing in with his body. He backed her up to a wall and halted only inches from her face. She felt the heat of his breath on her lips. "Tell him to stay away, Carys."

Her body was screaming at her. "Cadell," she whispered. Would he be able to hear her through the tumult of the banquet hall?

I am here, Nêrys.

She sighed in relief when she heard his voice. "Stay away. Just for a while."

Call when you need me.

She closed her eyes, and Lachlan's forehead fell toward her, their brows touching as she felt him heave a great sigh.

"I miss you every day," he whispered. "Every night . Do you think my body has forgotten yours? You being here and not being in my arms is torture."

"You left me, Lachlan. You left ."

"But I would have done anything to stay. I nearly bargained with the fae who came for me, Carys. I nearly gave them…" He shuddered. "I only went because I knew that if I didn't, they would have hurt you."

Carys shook her head. "Did you think they were going to just let you go? You're the prince."

"I don't care!" He choked on the words. "I was happy with you. I felt like I could breathe again. And then in the blink of an eye, my future was gone. Again ."

She saw the mix of grief and love in his eyes and she was tempted. So tempted. In the confusion and the magic and the chaos of this new world, being alone with Lachlan felt blessedly normal.

She halfway believed that she'd push the curtain to the side and step into her own cozy house in California with Lachlan beside her, teasing her about her crazy dream.

"I love you." He pressed her hands to his chest. "Tell me you believe me, Carys. Tell me you know."

"I want to believe you." She pulled her hands away. "But do you understand why that's hard? Every moment I'm here, I'm surrounded by her. Seren's memory shadows everything I do, Lachlan, and the more I learn about her, the more I realize we were nothing alike."

"That's what I'm saying!" His face brightened, and he pressed her hands closer. "My feelings now are for you. Not Seren. I'll always love her, but I want a life with you ."

Carys was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea of Lachlan loving her—truly loving her—when he seemed to have been in love with Seren his entire life.

"I need time," she whispered. "All of this is new and?—"

"You need to leave," he whispered. "It's not safe here. I'll come and find you and we can run away. We can hide from them and start a life together. We don't have to play their games."

"And let Seren's murder go unanswered?" She shook her head. "Lachlan, you're dreaming if you think your father would ever let you go. Duncan was right: you have responsibilities here. Seren understood that. She knew?—"

"Seren knew I had no intention of taking the throne!"

Carys blinked. "What?"

"I gave that up the moment I married her," Lachlan continued. "My father refuses to believe me, but there was no way I could have remained married to the queen of Cymru and stayed here on the throne. Dafydd has one heir. My father has three. For me to remain on the high chief's throne would mean uniting two kingdoms, and that would completely alter the balance of power in Briton. I was always going to give up the throne to Rory, Nora, or one of the clan chiefs. Always."

Carys's mind was whirling, not only because of Lachlan's passionate proclamations of love but because she'd just realized why someone might have wanted her sister to die.

"I need to go back." She drew her hands away from Lachlan's and walked to the archway covered by the curtain. "Both of us need to go back."

Carys sat woodenly at the banquet table after a massive dinner of venison, roasted game, and candied fruit while the two kings made speeches singing the other's praises and complimenting Queen Elanor on her hospitality.

She was curious to examine Eamer, Dafydd's wife, but there wasn't a chance to mingle at a royal banquet. Everyone seemed to acknowledge that Seren and Eamer had not been particularly close. Aisling had mentioned it more than once, and Lachlan never spoke about her.

The woman in question was the tall lady she'd seen step out of the coracle behind King Dafydd. She was taller than her husband, though not as tall as Robb. Her hair was dark and braided back from a severe and dramatically beautiful face. She had a strong jaw, deep-set eyes, and a sculpted mouth that was pursed and painted deep red to match the velvet dress she wore to complement her husband's finery.

A gold crown was set on her forehead, and though her eyes flitted to Carys every now and then, she mostly seemed to avoid looking at her.

Eamer of Tara, second daughter of the High Queen Orla of Ireland, and by most accounts, the mildest of the four. Married to Dafydd of Cymru for the past twenty-three years.

Carys kept her voice barely above a whisper, grateful that Cadell always seemed to hear. "Twenty-three years? So Seren was in Alba when they married?"

Yes. Elanor was the only mother figure that Seren knew as a child.

"So Seren and her stepmother didn't have much of a relationship."

Things were cool between them. Eamer respected Seren's role as Dafydd's daughter, but they were not close. Seren had no warmth for Eamer but was always ready to compliment her work as queen.

"Got it."

On the other side of Eamer were three willowy fae whose skin seemed to glow from within. One was a fair-skinned man with braided hair the color of pure gold and a gold hoop piercing his nose. The next fae was a dark-haired woman with olive skin and vivid blue eyes, her flowing hair rippling over her shoulders like ebony water.

The third was another man, his skin brown as hazelwood and his dark gold hair falling in soft waves to his shoulders. His eyes were vivid green, but his mouth settled into a firm, straight line. He wore a dozen golden piercings in each ear .

The fae lords from the Borderlands. They control the gate through which you arrived and have been watching you all night.

Carys tried not to squirm. "I didn't notice them."

If you had, I would be surprised. Do not be alone with them.

While servants cleared the dishes, a lone singer stood at the foot of the head table and started a song, accompanied by a harp.

Carys didn't know what to make of the singer, who was clearly not human but was very short for a fae. She had warm brown skin, black hair twisted in coils and decorated with gold beads and flowers, and eyes the color of sunlit water. She sang with the clearest, purest voice Carys had ever heard.

"Sing me a place where sea becomes sky

Where stone swallows mountain

Where this world goes to die"

She is also fae, Cadell whispered in her mind, but not of the Borderlands.

Carys felt the dragon's eyes on her.

Do you recognize her, Nêrys?

Carys shook her head. "No. Why would I?"

Her name is Naida.

Carys was transfixed, frozen in her seat, but she sat up straight when she realized that she knew the melody the strange fae woman was singing. It was the same song Dru had been chanting through the woods as Duncan and Carys made their way into the Shadowlands.

"Write me a poem of heather and firth

Where forest touches night and night becomes earth

The shadows they call you when life becomes still

They call you to taste them

They tempt you to thrill"

Was it intentional? A popular song? What did it mean? She glanced at Duncan, but he was deep in conversation with Darius on the other side of the table. She let her eyes drift to Lachlan, whom she'd been trying to ignore since they returned, and he was staring straight at her, his eyes full of a longing she could hardly dismiss.

The singer continued her mournful song.

"The darkness it holds you

Don't try to turn back

Its wild weathered places

Are all that you lack

The Shadowlands offer the life that you miss

And the ruddy wind whispers

A dark prince's kiss"

Lachlan's lips parted, and she could taste the memory of his kiss. Carys closed her eyes, her body aching for him, only to open them again when the hall burst into applause for the singer and the harpist.

"Lachlan!" someone shouted. "Lord Lachlan for the harp!"

The hall erupted in applause, and Carys looked around to see every eye on the high table. When she turned back to Lachlan, he glanced at her, then forced a smile and nodded at a young man who ran for the side of the room.

"Lachlan has a beautiful voice."

Carys turned to see Duncan watching her. "He does," she said. "He sang a lot in California. Loved it. Absolute magic on the guitar."

"He learned that from me." The corner of Duncan's mouth turned up. "They don't have the same instruments here as we do at home. I taught him the basics when we were young, but he's a far better player than I ever was."

The young man came back to the table, holding a harp that was small enough to fit on the player's knees. Lachlan walked out from behind the table and down the stairs, settling himself next to Naida, who leaned toward him and whispered something. Lachlan gave a slight nod, and the woman waved a gentle hand over Lachlan's throat, then another hand over his harp.

"What was that?"

"Lachlan has some magic in his voice," Cadell said, "but Naida's power is greater than his. It will amplify his voice since the hall is so large."

Carys nodded. "Right."

Lachlan cleared his throat and took a sip from the goblet his servant held out. "A song for our guests tonight." Though his words included the Cymric court, his eyes landed on her and didn't leave as he began to pluck the harp, drawing a flood of melody from the gold-inlaid wooden frame.

Duncan leaned toward Carys. "There are many kinds of magic that humans practice in the Shadowlands. This is Lachlan's kind."

He plucked the strings with such skill and speed Carys forgot where she was and that others surrounded her. All she could do was watch Lachlan as he filled the hall with his harp and his voice. All murmur of conversation stopped, and the lights around the hall seemed to dim.

As Lachlan started to sing in Gaelic, there were soft gasps around the hall. Whether it was Naida's magic or his own, Lachlan's voice sounded like it was coming from right next to her.

For a moment, Carys was at the pub in Baywood, listening to Lachlan entertain her friends with folk songs and holding the small crowd enraptured. Carys had felt as if he was singing just for her when he lifted his eyes from the guitar and smiled across the room.

She had no idea what he was singing to the audience in the great hall, but there were tears in more than one eye. And just like that night in the pub, the entire time he sang, he looked straight at her, his gaze never wavering.

His voice was a seductive whisper in her ear. The pure deep tone of his song curled around her, threading through the air that touched her neck, his breath a feather across her lips, the vibration of the harp echoing through her body .

He sings for you. Cadell's voice in her mind.

"Only for me?" she whispered.

For you, Nêrys. Seren didn't have patience for music.

She couldn't take her eyes off him.

Until she had to. The song finished, the magic drifted away, and the crowd applauded. They rose to their feet to praise the magical young lord, and in the tumult of the crowded hall with everyone vying for Lachlan's attention, Carys slipped away.

She was dressed in her nightclothes, staring at the burning fire in the hearth and wrapped in heavy wool blankets when she heard the knock at the door. She could feel Cadell overhead, curled in dragon form and resting on the roof of the tower when she rose and walked to the door.

Nêrys?

"It's probably Bonnie," she said. "Or Duncan trying to get me to eat more."

It is not. Cadell's voice drifted away. I will leave you to your privacy, my lady. All you need do is call.

Carys frowned as she opened the door, only for understanding to ring clear when she saw Lachlan on the other side.

His jacket was loose, and his shirt was untucked, wine spilled over the collar. His eyes were locked on her face. "You left."

"It was crowded. You know I hate crowds."

"Yes."

Tension rocketed between them, and she glanced at his hands, feeling his fingers on her skin the same way he'd caressed the harp at the front of the hall, wrenching the aching music from its body the same way he'd once touched her.

"Please," he whispered. "Please, Carys."

It was too much. She pulled him into the room, wrapped her arms around him, and lifted her head to meet his lips as he kicked the door closed .

His hands, his hands, his hands were everywhere, fisted in the heavy cloth that covered her, ripping away the blanket around her waist and gripping her hair at the nape. He tugged her braid loose and spread the dark waves over her shoulders, a groan catching in his throat as he walked her back toward the bed.

"I missed you." His voice was hoarse. "I missed you so much."

Lachlan touched her body as he always had, as if they'd been lovers for years. Nothing about him was unsure or hesitant. He knew exactly the curve where her back arched, the spot on her neck that made her cry out.

He lifted the dress over her head, lifted her and placed her in the bed, drawing the bed curtains around them. Then he ripped off his jacket and threw it to the foot of the bed before he started to fumble with his leggings.

Carys sat up, drawing the sheet with her to keep her from freezing in the cold air, then carefully lifted the tartan from his shoulder as Lachlan grew still under her hand.

"You never wore a kilt in California," she said softly. "I asked about it, and you said it was an old-fashioned thing."

"It is." He sat back on his heels, watching her as she slowly undressed him.

"It's beautiful." She unwound the heavy wool from his narrow hips and set the yards of woven fabric to the side, leaving him in nothing more than the long tunic stained with wine.

"Were you drinking?" He didn't seem drunk, but Carys wanted to make sure this was what he wanted in his cold, sober mind. "Were you drinking a lot?"

The corner of his mouth kicked up. "No, Dafydd spilled his wine on me. I probably smell like a wine barrel."

"No, you smell like you." She leaned forward and pulled the tunic over his head, leaving him bare in the darkness, his body as glorious as it ever was but his scars making more sense now that she knew the truth.

He had a knife wound on his shoulder. A childish prank, he'd told her. Carys leaned forward and put her lips on his warm skin, her tongue flicking out to taste the raised flesh. Lachlan's skin vibrated under her mouth.

"What was it really?"

"A training accident with my father's soldiers."

"A sword?"

"Bronze blade. Heavy."

Her fingers traced across his chest, the gold hair sprinkled over the corded muscles, to the gash a few inches down on his ribs. "And this one?"

"Hunting accident with a very drunk Anglian lord." He gripped her hair in his right hand and pulled her head back to expose her throat. "Give me your skin."

"You have it," she whispered.

Carys closed her eyes as her hands remained on Lachlan's shoulder and ribs. He kissed her with the hunger of lost months and lonely nights, his lips bruising in their pursuit. He leaned forward, nudging her back onto the pillows before he crawled next to her under the bedclothes and their naked bodies were pressed together.

He was heat and life, and she'd missed him so much she had tears in her eyes. Lachlan kissed her like the lover she'd known, cherishing the taste of her mouth, then peppering kisses over her cheeks, fluttering soft lips over her eyelids as she held him close.

"I missed you so much." His body grew harder and his voice rougher. "I missed you every moment of every day and especially every night. I couldn't sleep for days after I came back." He swallowed hard as his mouth left hers and he kissed down her neck. His fingers were rough, the tips callused from playing the harp, and the rough skin scraped across her nipples when he caressed them, making Carys shiver.

It was pleasure-pain that he followed with his mouth and teeth, ravenous to taste her body. His knee parted her thighs, and he pressed up, exposing her sex as one hand left her breast and felt for the heat between her thighs .

"You missed me too." His breath was hot on her skin, his fingers coaxing pleasure from her sex. "I can feel it."

"Lachlan." She ached for him, gripping his shoulder with her hand as her other reached for the hard erection she felt pressing against her thigh. "Lachlan, please."

Her hand closed around Lachlan's hard cock, and she arched her back, the pleasure rising as he coaxed her body to release. His touch was magic, the rhythm of his fingers as delicate and relentless as they had been on the harp strings.

She closed her eyes and saw a wash of gold beneath her closed lids as the first crest of pleasure made her cry out. He silenced her with a hard kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he moved up, bracing himself over her as he took her hand from his erection and nudged her legs wider, his cock finding her heat as he slid inside and seated himself to the hilt, his hips pressed against her parted thighs.

Oh God. He was everything. She needed him and he felt incredible. The climax he'd coaxed from her continued to roll through her body as he drove himself into her sex over and over again, the pleasure building with every thrust.

"Carys!"

"Come." She dug her fingers into the small of Lachlan's back, her shoulders pressed down as she rolled her hips up. "Please come."

She needed him to come. She needed the memory of them together, the sweet release of the bed and the heavy weight of him holding her down as her mind flew.

Lachlan came with a shout and a groan he muffled in her shoulder, his body pressing up and holding, holding inside as his cock continued to release. A shudder tore through him. He panted against her neck, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and rolling them to the side. He slid one leg under hers, pressing her to his chest and wrapping her body completely with his own.

It was the same way he always held her after they made love, as if a climax wasn't enough and he had to bind her in his arms to make sure she wouldn't slip away .

"I missed you," he murmured into her shoulder. "I missed you so much, Carys. I love you."

She didn't know what to say. Her mind was as overwhelmed as her body.

Making love to Lachlan was necessary and right and she didn't regret a moment of it, but while Lachlan was holding her the same way he always had, Carys couldn't find the same peace in his arms.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" he whispered. "At least for tonight?"

"Yes." She couldn't turn him away if she wanted to. She needed it as much as he did, her body craving the comfort of his familiar embrace. "Sleep. Let's both sleep."

We can talk in the morning.