Читать книгу Highland Vampire - Hannah Howell - Страница 11

He knew she was there before she spoke. There had been no sound, no hint of her approach, but Jankyn was not surprised. As her sister did, Efrica walked silently. Even his keen ears had difficulty hearing her move. He knew she was there because of her scent, one as recognizable to him as his son’s. Jankyn took a deep breath, filling himself with the pleasurable scent of her, letting it warm him. Slowly, he turned to look at her, finding that the sight of her warmed him even more. Staying away from her had obviously done nothing to cure his wanting, but then the heated dreams he had been tormented with over the last seven days had warned him of that.

“What has brought ye here, lass?” he asked, then tensed. “Trouble?”

“Nay, no more than one usually finds in such a place, I suspect,” replied Efrica. “Nay, I met David today and he happened to mention what ye were searching for.” She stepped around the table to stand at his side and look at the book he had been studying. “Find anything yet?”

“A few glimpses, hints of something which may be important, but little else. The ones who compiled these records were more concerned with what a mon had in way of lands, wealth, and fighting men than in who he was or his bloodlines.”

“Weel, I may have a better place for ye to look. My cousin Malcolm.”

“How could he help?”

“He collects information.”

“I ken the Callans are as interested in their ancestry as we are, but—”

“Nay just the Callans. Malcolm collects whate’er he can on everyone he can.” She nodded when his eyes widened slightly. “He ignores naught, from the smallest whisper to church records. He continues the work of his father, grandsire, and great-grandsire, all of whom were greedy concerning such information. If Malcolm was a woman, he would be reviled as the worst of gossips. As a mon, howe’er, he can excuse it all as a need to take careful note of the people of this land so that the ones who come after us can find the truth if need be. He tells any who claim the memory of elders is good enough that it takes but one plague or one battle to see all that knowledge buried and lost forever.”

Jankyn felt the beat of anticipation in his veins. “He has a lot?”

Efrica laughed softly. “More than ye can e’er imagine, and his three sons travel far and wide to get more. He will ask a fee. Tis one way he can afford to continue his work.”

“That is acceptable. Where does he live?”

“I fear ye will have to let me take ye to him. Malcolm may like to ken all about everyone, but he isnae so fond of meeting any of them. If we leave as soon as the sun sets, I can take ye to him this verra night.”

“Shall we meet at the stables after the sun has set then?”

She nodded and hurried away to find Barbara and let her know what she was going to do. There was the thrum of excitement in her veins, and she knew it was because she was helping Jankyn in his search. She ruefully admitted to herself that it was also because she would be spending time with him, could enjoy the sight of him and savor the sound of his deep, smooth voice. Maybe Barbara was right. Maybe it was time to ask herself some hard questions.

Jankyn stood by the two horses he had chosen and waited for Efrica. Glancing up at the bright, full moon, he felt an ancient urge stir to life within him. His kindred would be out on the hunt tonight. It had been a long time since he had participated in one, and he found himself wishing he were back at Cambrun, racing through the hills and woods alongside his brethren.

Coming to court had, perhaps, not been wise. David may well have found himself a wife, but being among these people made Jankyn all too aware of what he was, and what he could never be. He did not think he had ever felt so alone. Not one of the women he had bedded had eased that feeling. The fact that, even in the throes of passion, he had to closely and continuously guard his secrets had only added to that sense of utter solitude. He suspected it was one reason he was so strongly attracted to Efrica. She knew what he was. He could be free with her.

His dissatisfaction had begun to grow a long time ago, however. Watching Cathal and Bridget, seeing their family grow, had bred it. This journey had honed it to a sharpness he could not easily shrug aside. He did not want to spend his long life alone, taking a lover now and then among his own kind, and doing little more than existing until, one day, he ceased. A piece of him would continue on in whatever children David bred, but in all other ways, he would leave no mark upon the world. It was a sobering, even chilling, thought.

Seeing Efrica hurrying toward him, Jankyn silently cursed. She made it even harder to shake free of the somewhat maudlin humor he was sinking into. He ached for her, hungered to smell the sun upon her fair skin and in her glorious hair. Jankyn had the feeling she was his mate, but he could never claim her. The blood of his ancestors was strong within him, which made him a creature of the night. Efrica was a creature of the light, more so than her sister. The shadows he had to cling to in order to survive would slowly smother her.

As he helped her mount, he let his hands linger upon her small waist a little longer than was necessary. Jankyn ignored the frown she gave him, mounted his horse, and silently signaled her to lead him to her cousin’s. He knew he should not take full advantage of the attraction between them, but decided the occasional, small, stolen delight could do no harm. Except to make his dreams even more of a torment, he thought ruefully.

The house Efrica led them to was on the far southern side of the town. Set behind a thick, high wall, the main part of the house looked like many another. Here and there, however, someone had stuck a room on the side. The gates that led into the courtyard in front of the house stood open, only a scowling, white-haired man silently watching them.

“Efrica? Be that ye?” demanded the man as Jankyn helped her dismount. “I was about to lock the gates.”

Efrica gave the man a hug and a kiss. “I ken it. Tis why we hurried. I apologize for coming at such a late hour, but ’tis impossible to come during the day.” She hastily introduced Jankyn to her cousin, not surprised to see Malcolm’s sharp green eyes narrow in thought. The man was already searching his keen memory for some information on the Clan MacNachton.

“Come in. Come in and tell me what ye seek.”

Following Efrica and her somewhat ill-natured cousin, Jankyn listened to her explain why they were there. Malcolm kept looking at him, curiosity warring with fear in his eyes. Somehow this man knew about the MacNachtons, at least enough to make him feel uneasy. As they walked through the house, Jankyn could see that almost every conceivable place had been turned into storage for books, ledgers, and scrolls. The man kept the main living areas relatively clean, simply lining the walls with shelves where he could, but most of his home was dedicated to his work. Somewhere in this warren was a tale or two about the MacNachtons, and this man was even now recalling them.

The next time the man looked his way, Jankyn gave him a wide smile. Malcolm’s eyes grew very wide, and he paled slightly before turning his attention back to Efrica. She obviously noticed her cousin’s upset, and frowned at Jankyn, suspicion glinting in her eyes. Jankyn gave her a sweet smile and was not surprised when her look of suspicion only deepened. Then Malcolm drew her attention as he led them into what had clearly once been the great hall. Jankyn stood and looked around in awe at all the shelves and tables so filled with things that people employed to record information they felt was important that the wood should have been groaning and buckling beneath the weight of it all.

“Ye will find the MacNachtons on the shelf by the window,” Malcolm said. “Far end. On the left. I will get ye some wine and food, aye?”

Before Efrica could reply, Malcolm hurried out of the room. She turned to cast another suspicious look at Jankyn, but he was already striding toward the shelves Malcolm had indicated. Efrica was sure Jankyn had done something to make Malcolm so nervous, but since they had not been immediately turned out, she decided to ignore it and hurried to his side. A little voice told her that she ought to leave him here, that spending time alone with him was not wise, but she silenced it. If nothing else, she was intensely curious about what information Malcolm may have gathered on the MacNachtons. She silently helped Jankyn look for anything with the name MacNachton and place it on one of the several large tables scattered around the room.

“Ah, good, good,” Malcolm muttered as he returned and set a large tray of wine, bread, cheese, and oatcakes on the table. “Ye may see a wee notation or two in places. Twill direct ye to another wee bit of information. Many clans are connected, ye ken, and the tales of one clan will oftimes slip into the tales of another.”

Efrica frowned and stared at her cousin’s neck. A glint of something shiny showed beneath the tousled locks of white hair and the neck of the ink-stained shirt. She reached out to touch his neck and gasped when she tapped her fingernail against metal.

“Malcolm, what do ye have upon your neck?” she demanded.

“Naught!” He covered his neck with his hands.

“Dinnae lie to me. Oh, Malcolm, ye have put some sort of neck ring on. How could ye insult a guest so?”

“Effie, he is a MacNachton.” Malcolm whispered.

“Aye, and his laird is wed to my sister Bridget. Do ye see me wrapping metal about my neck? I think ye have heeded too many rumors, forgotten how to separate gossip and whispers from fact. I also think ye owe Jankyn an apology.”

“Sorry,” Malcolm muttered even as he started toward the door. “Many pardons. Let yourselves out when ye are done.”

Keeping her gaze fixed upon the door Malcolm had shut behind him as he fled, Efrica said, “Ye showed him your fangs, didnae ye, Jankyn.”

“They may have peeked out when I gave him a friendly smile,” Jankyn replied.

She shook her head and moved to pour them each some wine. “That mon spends far too much of his life lurking about within this house reading about the past.” She frowned when Jankyn studied what looked to be a brief letter, a faint smile curling his lips. “What have ye found?”

“The answer to the puzzle of how your brother kenned so much about us. He would only say that he had a knowledgeable friend. I believe I have found that friend.” Jankyn handed her the letter.

“Bridget has wed Cathal MacNachton, laird of Cambrun,’” she read. “Who is he? Need to know immediately. Duncan.’ Rather abrupt. Howbeit, I suspicion my brother softened his lordly demands with a heavy purse. I wonder why he ne’er told ye about Malcolm.”

“He had only just met us and kenned how closely we guarded our secrets. We ne’er thought to ask again, after he had come to ken us better.” Jankyn sipped at the wine she had served him. “Still, I am nay sure I like the fact that someone outside Cambrun kens so much about us.”

“Malcolm is verra careful about sharing this information. He kens all about the Callans, too, ye ken. Being one of us, he weel understands the value of secrecy. I will, however, tell him to put your secrets away with ours.”

Jankyn glanced around the room. “The Callans arenae to be found in here?”

“There will be a listing, a few tales and innocent letters, but nay more. Malcolm carefully takes out all hints of our true ancestry. The full tale is more precisely recorded and tucked away in a verra safe place. Since your clan is now tied to ours, ’tis far past time he did the same, er, cleansing of the MacNachton information.”

“Aye, that might be best. Tis troubling to think of our secrets written down here where, nay matter how careful Malcolm is, someone could see them. Rumors and dark, whispered tales of the past are difficult enough to fight. Set down in a book?” He shrugged. “Too many would see that as irrefutable proof.”

Efrica nodded. “The verra fact that someone would take the time to write it all down gives it weight. So few have the skill that it gives it a great deal of power. Magic, e’en,” she added as she returned to the shelves.

When Jankyn watched her bend over slightly to sort through several scrolls, his mind was immediately filled with several lecherous thoughts and he inwardly cursed. It was tempting to tell her to leave, that he did not need help, but he could not bring himself to do so. She was offering him help, had brought him to a treasure trove of information, and he would not insult her by curtly sending her away. He was a man with many years of experience, he reminded himself as he forced his attention to the book in front of him. He ought to be able to curtail his lust for a woman, for any woman.

That control grew harder to grasp than he liked as the hours passed. Far too often he would catch himself looking at her, thinking of all the ways he wanted to make love to her. She was proving to be an incurable fever in his blood. The fact that she was a pleasant and efficient assistant only made it worse. A simple lusting could be conquered in time, no matter how fierce it was. Lust mixed with respect and liking was very hard to shake free of. It was settling deep into his heart, and that could cause them both a lot of trouble.

It was Efrica who called attention to the swift advance of dawn hours later. Jankyn pulled himself free of his fascination with his research and looked longingly at several large books he had unearthed from Malcolm’s vast collection. He looked at Efrica and caught her setting a letter on the tray Malcolm had brought the food and wine in on.

“Tis but a message for Malcolm telling him that we have taken a few things back to the castle with us,” she explained.

“Will he allow that?” asked Jankyn.

“Nay if we ask him directly, I suspect. Thus the message and a quick escape.”

“And this.” Jankyn set a small purse upon the tray, the weight of it and the sound it made hinting at a sizable sum of money.

“That will certainly soothe him,” she murmured as she followed Jankyn out of the house.

After carefully placing the books into his saddle packs, Jankyn noticed that Efrica had felt no need to wait for his help in mounting her horse, and so he mounted his. “Is anything wrong?” he asked when he caught her frowning.

“Actually,” she replied, nudging her horse into motion, “I was but wondering where Malcolm got that thing he wore about his neck. Tisnae something one has just lying about the house.”

Jankyn laughed softly as he rode beside her. “I suspect he had it made when word came that a Callan had married a MacNachton. Dinnae scowl. I took no insult.”

Efrica was not so sure she believed that, but did not argue it. Malcolm’s reaction to Jankyn only reaffirmed her opinion that she was a fool to be so attracted to a MacNachton, to even consider a future with the man. If even members of the Callan clan could not be at ease around Jankyn, how could she ever hope to have a normal life with the man?