Surrendered Page 5

  How could they find Niamh’s injuries funny? Those bastards!

  He jerked under their hold again, but it didn’t do much good. If these men wanted to be fools, then he couldn’t do anything to stop them, but he wished Niamh was safe from harm. She’d been through enough as it was, and with Donoghue on the loose she was still in danger—he’d be back to finish her off if no one was there to protect her.

  Especially if Donoghue had sank low enough to try to rid her of Doyle. How would the queen react when she heard of this? Would she accept Donoghue’s lies?

  Hopefully their mutual respect was solid enough that she wouldn’t readily believe what had been said against him. Perhaps he could convince her to hear him out in exchange for her favour.

  Right now, he would do anything to get back to Niamh’s side, even if it meant he’d never find out the truth about his parents, or why they’d abandoned him.

  Chapter Seven

  Sadb and Maeve had waltzed into her room a few minutes after the guards had left. Niamh balled her hands into fists and planted them on her hips. “I’m not even going to ask where you two have been all night. I need to be appropriate to see the queen.”

  Her maidens curtsied low to the ground. The younger sister looked pale and horrified at her reproach. Maeve scurried to Niamh’s wardrobe and picked out a dress while Sadb straightened her undergarments then quickly brushed her hair.

  Worry gnawed at her gut in every minute that passed. What were they doing to Doyle? Could he be horribly mistreated and beaten by the guards? What if they killed him? No, they wouldn’t do that. He’d get a trial. That was the way the court operated, most of the time.

  But he wasn’t of her court.

  She dug her nails into her palms until crescent moons were imprinted in her skin. The sisters helped her into her dress and tied up the laces of her corset, but she could barely think of any of that. Doyle…

  The unbidden thought the courtier had planted in her head in his anger lashed at her mind. Queen Titania would never approve of her having a relationship with Doyle. She was a noblewoman, and he was a mercenary, not even of a court. With him, she felt like a woman, not a Seelie fae, not a woman of stature. If she couldn’t have both him and her position, she’d gladly dispense of her title.

  When her maidens had finally finished dressing her, she took off, running out of her room. A court guard drudged in her direction, and when he spotted her, he looked surprised.

  With a bow, he said, “My lady, I was just on my way to see you. I heard about—” His words stopped short as she neared him. He frowned and held out a hand to halt her. “You should head back to your room. You’ve already been in enough danger recently.”

  She stopped in front of him and daintily lifted her chin. “The courtly guard has the wrong man. Doyle Kearney did not harm me. Lord Donoghue did.”

  He frowned. “You don’t need to be protecting the mercenary. He won’t be able to hurt you from the dungeon.”

  She huffed and continued walking in the direction of the Queen Titania’s royal chambers. She needed to speak with Her Majesty immediately. The queen had brought Doyle into her life, and now the queen needed to help keep him in her life.

  The guard trailed at her heel. Maybe he had been sent to protect her just in case. It was something Doyle would’ve asked for her.

  As she was about to reach the queen’s throne room, Lord Donoghue sidestepped in front of her. He bore scratches on his face from where she’d scratched him.

  The court guard stepped a little in front of her, but not enough to make himself obvious. “Make way for the Lady McNamara.”

  “She’s just who I was on my way to see.” He brushed past the guard and neared her, but she took a step back, not wanting to be anywhere closer to him than necessary.

  Another guard strode over to assist the one who had followed her from her quarters.

  “Now, now. I’m not a danger to the lady.” He reached out for her.

  “Yes, you are.” She put the initial guard who’d followed her from her room between them and kept on course to the queen’s chambers.

  Two court guards stood on either side of the doorway watching the commotion. The one she’d been walking with nodded to them, and the one on the right knocked, then opened the door a moment later.

  She walked towards them, but before she could make it two steps, Queen Titania was standing in the doorway. Her head was cocked to the side, and she glanced between Lord Donoghue and Niamh.

  Niamh fell into a deep curtsy, grateful to see her queen and hoping she’d help her.

  “Why not so happy to see me, Donoghue? Afraid?” the queen asked, a peculiar tone to her voice. Before he could respond, she continued, “Niamh, stand up. I am aware of what happened last night. The palace has eyes and ears everywhere.”

  Niamh lifted her gaze to Queen Titania’s face. Anger pinched her stunning features. She stood but lowered her lashes. “What about Doyle, Your Highness?”

  “My guards questioned him. He told me what I needed to know. Guards, take Lord Donoghue to the dungeon for twice assaulting Lady McNamara with the intention of murder, and fetch the mercenary Doyle Kearney.” The queen crossed the room then perched on her throne, watching as Lord Donoghue was dragged away.

  The grand doors closed behind her and for the first time, Niamh wasn’t sure what to do in the queen’s presence. She held her spine stiff, trying to blend in with the room, but her wings fluttered nervously.

  Now, she stood in silence, waiting for Doyle’s release, but why did the queen seem upset with her? Unless Queen Titania knew about her and Doyle…

  “I’m not sure what to say, child. You could choose from any of the men of the court, several of whom I have picked for you, and yet you wind up with the worst possibility. I’ve known for a while that Lord Donoghue isn’t right. Had I known he was capable of this,” she said, waving her hand in Niamh’s direction, “I’d have locked him away years ago.” She shook her head. “Don’t think I haven’t realised your attraction for Doyle. While he’s a nice looking man, he’s not a good match for you. I wouldn’t be able to approve it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of asking for your approval, Your Highness.” The words slipped out before she could rein them in. “However, I love him.”

  A surprised sound beside her caused her to jump. She glanced to her left to see Doyle staring at her.

  “What do you have to say in response, Doyle?” The queen looked upon them with interest, but other than that she didn’t show much of her emotions.

  “I…I love Niamh as well.” He clenched his hands into fists and lowered his gaze as if someone would beat him for acknowledging his feelings.

  “Relax, Doyle. You’ve successfully fulfilled your agreement with me. As I previously stated, you’re granted a favour from me. Would you like to partake of that favour?”

  Doyle glanced at her. “If Niamh would allow me the honour of her hand in marriage, yes, I would use the favour to be with her.”

  “I’d be delighted.” Niamh blinked at him. She couldn’t believe what he’d said. He cared about her enough to risk his reputation in the eyes of the Seelie Court’s queen.

  “Such a silly thing to ask a favour for,” Queen Titania said. “I will grant it, but you will both have to deal with the consequences, whatever those may be. You’re not a member of my court, nor looked upon with pleasant thoughts by my people.” She turned her attention back to Niamh. “Connecting yourself with this man will put you in their minds as one in the same with him. But then, that’s not far from the truth.”

  Niamh nearly missed what the queen had said, but her attention snapped back to the throne when it sunk in. “You mean…my parents… I’m…?” The words wouldn’t come out. She had known she was different, but this? And Doyle too? The rumours had been around about him, but now the queen confirmed them to be true…

  “Yes, my dear, you are. Inside you know it’s true and I suspect you’ve known about your different nature for
a while now.” A tapping on the door drew Queen Titania’s attention, then she glanced back at them. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other business to deal with. I will see that Lord Donoghue pays for what he did to you, sweet girl.”

  Doyle growled, but the queen waggled a finger at him. “I haven’t said I will exclude you. Have patience. Justice isn’t always swift. Not with nobles.” Queen Titania waved her hand at them, then snapped her fingers, and the door opened behind them.

  Chapter Eight

  Queen Titania had honoured her favour, and Lord Donoghue was on trial. Things appeared grim for him although he still had a few supporters in court. But Doyle knew it would ultimately go the queen’s way.

  When they’d returned to Niamh’s chambers, Doyle had found an unmarked envelope amongst his things. He examined the envelope closely before opening it. Had the queen gifted him the knowledge he’d longed for? Inside were the names of two high-ranking nobles, one male, one female—of the light and dark courts respectively. Both of them were known for their hostile stance of the other court. His parents…no wonder they had abandoned him.

  At least he finally knew.

  Shaking his head, he brushed aside some hair from Niamh’s forehead. She was doing much better now, but he made sure she was resting.

  Sadb and Maeve stood at attention by the bedside. Since Niamh and Doyle had made it back from the queen’s royal chamber a few days ago, the sisters hadn’t left her side. Neither of them appeared comfortable with her new relationship with Doyle, but they’d get used to it in time.

  Niamh opened her eyes and placed her hand over his. She glanced over at Sadb and Maeve. “Could you give us a moment?”

  Sadb pursed her lips, not budging from her spot, but Maeve grabbed her sister by the arm and pulled her towards the door. “Let’s go, sister,” she said.

  Once they’d left, Niamh gingerly pushed herself into a sitting position.

  He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but her gaze was fixed on him. A smile lit up her face. He’d thought about her constantly since their first time, and he knew she wasn’t going to be a desire easily quenched. Thankfully, he had a lifetime to have her soft body next to his, with the queen approving their marriage.

  She pressed her lips against his. Her tongue slid over his lower lip before she lightly nipped it between her teeth. She threaded her fingers through his hair.

  He opened his mouth to let her in. They let their tongues caress and dance over one another, and he held her, helping her onto her back again. Her ribs were likely still sore from the beating, and he aimed to make her as comfortable as he could.

  He held her breasts in his hands, thumbing the delicate rosy nipples. Her body shuddered beneath him at the sensation, and he dipped his head to suckle at the puckered peaks. The softness of her hot chest made his shaft harden even more. He trailed kisses over her breasts, not neglecting any part of her.

  Slowly he made his way lower, carefully tracing his lips and tongue over her bruised torso before circling her belly button a few times then he continued down. She held onto his shoulders, but he moved away from her, wanting to taste her sweet pussy. He relished the fact he’d been the only one to have her. She’d allowed him the honour, and that meant more to him than he could express. Their marriage would be proper, no lies or affairs.

  Doyle opened her thighs then trailed his palm up her leg from the knee. She spread her legs wider as he squeezed her inner thigh. She leaned her head back a little and tugged up her skirts to her waist.

  He climbed onto the bed, loosening his pants in the process. He knelt between her knees and trailed his lips and tongue up her leg towards her wet slit, along the same path his hand had made moments ago. Easing a finger inside her, he knew she was nearly ready for him, but he wanted to take his time with her. Something he hadn’t done in the garden.

  He slid his tongue over her clit, circling the little nub. He thrust his finger inside her gently, trying to build up the sensations within her before speeding up his pace. She pushed back against his hand, obviously craving more. Her body quivered beneath his touch as he continued kissing and sucking on her clit. He drove his finger within her faster, letting her urgent moans guide him.

  When he felt her thighs begin to tremble, he withdrew from her. He didn’t want her to find release too soon. He wanted to be there to enjoy it with her. To feel her pussy gripping him as she came.

  “Doyle,” she cried out. Her gaze pleaded with him to continue, and he would.

  He pressed a kiss against her clit then flicked his tongue over it. Sighing, she relaxed against the bed. Her sweet taste made him come back for more, even though his body craved to be inside her. Those thoughts had him pulling away again. Desire demanded he act. He shoved his pants aside, then guided himself inside her inch by inch. The sight of his cock entering her tight pussy made him even harder.

  She moaned and tightly clutched the pillow beneath her head. “Doyle,” she gasped. “I need you.”

  He rocked his hips, trying to keep his pace steady, but he couldn’t stop himself from going faster. “I need you too, like I’ve never needed anyone else.” The truth of those words smacked him in the chest, near his heart. He’d always been self-reliant, yet having Niamh in his life made his existence about more than just survival for the first time.

  Niamh wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer to her. She kissed him hard, her tongue exploring his mouth, and she clung to his shoulders. The first bite of her nails dug into his back. Her thighs tightened around his hips, and he knew her climax grew closer.

  He thrust within her harder, his lower body tense. Maybe next time he’d take her slower, like a lover should. Right now, he needed this, and from her reactions, he suspected Niamh did too. Her pussy clenched around him, and her cries echoed through the chambers. He groaned as orgasm shook him. His cum spurted into her, and uneasiness tugged at his chest for a moment before it dissipated. He knew the consequences of sharing his seed with a female, but Niamh was his.

  If… When they had children, their offspring wouldn’t be bastards. They’d have a loving home with a mother and father who would care for them, unlike the parents he’d never had.

  He’d never surrendered to anyone, but Niamh had claimed a piece of his heart and made it easy to give in to her. His golden goddess.

  Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Oberon’s Court: Captivated

  Sarah Mäkelä

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Gritting her teeth, Honora Butler sneaked farther into the dark, snowy forest. Danger lurked within the shadows, and she would kill or be killed. Death didn’t intimidate her anymore. She knew it too well.

  Everyone she’d loved had been taken from her.

  Snow crunched beneath the soles of her knee-high leather boots. When she was young, the Mercenary Guild had taken her in. They’d seen her abilities and her determination. They’d trained her, given her a chance when she’d wanted only to die, and now she did what she bloody well could to make sure the dark beings of the Unseelie Court hurt no one else.

  A horrified scream erupted ahead, beckoning her deeper into the forest. It had to have been caused by her prey. Picking up her pace, she pulled a throwing knife from its sheath. Her magic surged into the blade, filling it with power and making the metal white-hot.

  The trees broke into a clearing. The cause of the cries stood in the dirt road. A woman cowered on the ground while a short, stocky man dressed in blood red with a matching hat sneered at her. He looked to be having far too good a time.

  “I have a husband and kids. Please, don’t hurt me,” the woman whimpered. “My master…he’ll—”

  The Fear Dearg snorted and crossed his arms in front of him. He stared down his crooked nose at the terrified woman as if pondering what to do first.

  Honora doubted the woman was in immediate danger. The Red Man mostly engaged in cruel pranks on those he sought, but that wouldn’t stop her from killi
ng him. Her mission in life was to rid the world of malevolence.

  She slid from the trees, taking one quiet step after another. “Na dean maggadh fum,” she said. Those words, ‘do not mock me’, were the best chance she had to take him down without a problem.

  The Fear Dearg jerked his gaze to Honora. His lips curled back into a snarl at the interruption. “So be it. Now go on. Get out of here. Can’t you see I’m busy?” He stared at her blankly, waiting. “What? You want my favour and prosperity? Wait for your turn.”

  Just like that, he returned his focus to the woman. He grabbed at her dress.

  With a snap of her wrist, Honora sent the throwing knife sailing through the air. A wash of blood arced in a thick spray as the Fear Dearg collapsed, the knife lodged in his head.

  Shrieking, the woman scurried backwards from the corpse. Her eyes were wide and horrified at the sight of the dead faerie. “What have you done?” she asked, glancing Honora’s way. Shaking her head, she picked up her large basket with foodstuffs that lay on its side. Most of the food had fallen out, but the woman didn’t bother gathering it. She took the basket, then ran off down the dirt road.

  What had that been about?

  Honora watched the woman until she disappeared around the curve of the path. She walked over to the dead Red Man then tugged her blade out of his skull. It came away easily, blood dripping off it in great crimson drops. She wiped it clean on his jacket before tucking the knife back in its sheath.

  Her stomach rumbled. On the ground was an unsoiled loaf of bread from the woman’s fallen food. She stripped off her bloody gloves and crouched. She brushed off a few leaves then tore a piece from it and lifted it to her lips.

  In the distance, she heard a faint noise like that of a large flock of birds beating their wings. That couldn’t be right. Birds weren’t typically active at night there. Yet the sound grew louder.