Читать книгу Highland Vampire - Hannah Howell - Страница 12

“It wouldnae hurt ye to spend a wee bit more time at court.”

Jankyn looked up from the writings he had been carefully reading to frown at Malcolm. For the past four nights he had spent long hours searching through Malcolm’s research, meticulously recording each and every mention of MacNachtons, including a few old, dark tales very similar to the ones whispered in the villages near Cambrun. It appeared that, back in the far, misty past, MacNachtons had found a way to travel farther afield than they did now. Malcolm had grown more at ease in his presence, although he still wore that odd piece of armor around his neck. Obviously Malcolm had read one too many of the tales of dark, wolf-eyed men riding through the night and leaving death behind them.

“Why?” he asked. “I cannae find the answers I seek there.”

“I would have thought a mon of your ilk would have learned to keep his ear to the ground.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Whispers and rumors, laddie. Whispers and rumors.”

“Such things have always swirled about the MacNachtons.”

“Aye, and nay heeding them has sent more than a few of your clan to their deaths. Hard, gruesome deaths and unblessed graves.”

Jankyn tensed. “What have ye heard?”

“What do ye think, eh? That ye ne’er show your bonnie face when the sun is up, that ye have an unnatural strength, that ye—”

“Enough. I ken it all, but I wonder how ye hear such things when it doesnae appear that ye e’er leave this house.”

Malcolm sat on a bench across the table from Jankyn and crossed his arms. “Everyone who comes to me for information about their clan, or the bloodlines of someone who wishes to marry into their clan, gives me the promise that they will inform me of any news they can, rumor or fact. Tis rare that a day passes which doesnae bring me a missive, some messenger, or e’en some copied book, scroll, or ledger. There are several people at court right now who visit me from time to time to tell me all the news. Aye, things such as how two cruel bastards stalk my wee cousin Efrica and how there is a woman who is determined to have ye crawl back into her bed. Indeed, a woman who grows angrier each time ye shun her welcome.”

Between trying to keep a safe distance between himself and Efrica and becoming engrossed in his research, Jankyn had not realized that Lachlan and Thomas had renewed their pursuit of Efrica. Given what those two men were capable of, Efrica could still be in very real danger. Her cousin Barbara was a good woman, but little protection. Lachlan and Thomas just needed to catch Efrica alone once, and Jankyn did not feel very confident that the opportunity would never present itself. Just thinking of what they had already tried to do to her made him furious.

Then Jankyn saw Malcolm’s eyes widen and realized his fury was revealing itself in his face. He struggled to control his anger and watched Malcolm visibly shore up his courage. Jankyn suspected it was only the man’s concern and affection for Efrica that kept him from fleeing the room.

“I dinnae think ye ought to go racing back and toss the bastards round the garden again,” Malcolm said.

“Did Efrica tell ye about that?”

“Nay. Ye were seen that day. An old friend of mine saw her peril and rushed from his bedchamber to go to her aid. He arrived in the garden just as ye rescued her. As he told me, ye threw the men aside as if they weighed naught.”

This was alarming news. “He is the one spreading the rumors?”

“Nay. I convinced him that, e’en though ye are a slender mon, ye are a strong one. Can win any caber toss, and all that. Also said the MacNachtons can oftimes be spurred into a fierce rage when one of their own is threatened. Explained about the laird of the MacNachtons being wed to Bridget and all that. He still puzzled o’er how ye could pick each mon up, one in each hand, and mentioned how he had caught a fleeting glimpse of a verra alarming look upon your face.” Malcolm nodded when Jankyn cursed. “I finally managed to get him to believe that blind rage had given ye such power, and weel, wasnae it shown by your near swoon afterward that ye had used up all your strength and may have e’en injured yourself a wee bit.”

“Ye feel certain he willnae be telling that tale to anyone else?”

“Aye, e’en if he thinks on it all again and begins to doubt all my clever explanations. I made it verra clear that I wouldnae be pleased to hear such tales spread about the clan my most beloved cousin is now a part of. I didnae threaten to retaliate by revealing a few embarrassing truths about his family, but he understood the implication. The important question is, is he the only one who saw ye that day? He believes ’tis only those two men and the lady who whisper about ye, but one hopes there is no one else who saw ye and thus can affirm those spreading rumors.”

After cursing again over that dire possibility, Jankyn hastily finished the work he had been in the midst of when Malcolm had arrived. The moment he was done, he collected up his completed work and started out of the room, Malcolm at his heels, obviously intending to tightly lock the gates after Jankyn had left. Jankyn knew he was close to unlocking a few secrets about his bloodlines, but the security of the MacNachton secrets and Efrica’s safety were far more important. He could always pay Malcolm handsomely to continue the work for him, knowing the man would protect the MacNachton secrets as well as he protected those of his own clan. After all, people descended from some pagan priestess rumored to be a shape-shifter could be marked as demons and the devil’s minions as easily as any MacNachton.

Once back at the castle, Jankyn hurried to his chambers to secure his work and wash the ink from his hands. He then went in search of Efrica, needing to see with his own eyes that she was safe and was well aware of the danger stalking her little heels. An odd noise echoed through the hallway, and Jankyn halted, hoping the noise would come again so that he could determine exactly where it was coming from and whether or not he should trail it to its source.

“Cursed cats,” muttered a man who hurried past Jankyn. “Hate the sly beasts, but they keep the vermin under control, aye?”

Jankyn murmured a polite agreement and the man disappeared into a room. Now Jankyn knew why the sound had so firmly caught his interest. It was similar to the one a cat made when caught in a fight. This cat, however, was probably facing two-legged vermin she would not be able to control. He listened intently, thankful for the empty silence of the hallway he stood in, and was rewarded with a soft sound that unmistakably was a hiss. Clinging to the shadows, moving swiftly and silently, Jankyn headed in the direction the sound had come from, a sound that told him a Callan was in danger. Instinct told him that it was Efrica, and he felt his blood heat with fury and the thrill of the hunt.

With her back against the cold, stone wall and the two men in front of her, Efrica could see no clear route of escape. She had thought she had been cautious enough to be safe but had obviously not been as careful as she could have been, for she had given these men the chance they had clearly been waiting for. It had never occurred to her that she might need a bodyguard to make a quick trip to the privy. The fact that both men were bleeding from wounds she had inflicted did please her, but she knew those wounds were going to cost her dearly if she did not get away.

They lunged at her and she did her best to keep both men from getting a firm grip on her at the same time. This time they were not deceived by her small size or her sex into thinking it would be easy to capture and hold her. Once Lachlan slammed her against the wall so hard she was surprised she did not feel or hear a bone crack. She decided they were definitely planning to make her suffer for the injuries she had given them. When they finally got her pinned against the wall, she hissed at them. The looks upon their faces told her that, during the battle, she may have revealed her ancestry a little too clearly. Their brief confusion faded, turning into looks of hard determination. Efrica knew she could not fight them anymore, that she was too bruised and exhausted.

Suddenly Jankyn appeared behind the men. Efrica decided that that wolf-eyed, teeth-baring look he wore held its own wild beauty at times. By the looks upon the faces of her attackers as they were suddenly lifted off their feet and flung aside, she knew they had not seen or heard Jankyn’s approach, either. Thomas sprawled on the floor several feet away and did not move, but Lachlan began to stand up. Efrica saw Jankyn start to turn toward that man, fury still marking his features in a way no one could see and forget. She hurled herself into his arms with the last of her strength, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Shield the teeth, Jankyn,” she whispered, fighting to remain conscious until all danger had passed.

It was not easy, but Jankyn reined in his fury and bloodlust. He pressed his lips together before turning to face Lachlan. The scent of their blood, still flowing from the slashes Efrica’s nails had inflicted, made that control even more difficult. As he stood there holding a trembling Efrica, Jankyn ached to make the men pay dearly for touching her, hurting her, and making her taste such fear.

“When I look again, ye and that other piece of offal had best be gone,” Jankyn said to Lachlan, then turned his attention back to an increasingly limp Efrica. “They have hurt you.”

Hearing the snarl in his voice, Efrica struggled to speak. “Nay so badly. A bit dazed and bruised is all. Ye dinnae need to be ripping any throats out. Could cause talk, ye ken.”

Jankyn sighed loudly. “Ye do ken how to take all the joy out of a mon’s life, lass.”

Efrica attempted to smile, even though she was not sure he was jesting, at least not completely. “Are they gone?”

“Aye, scurried away like rats, they did. Weel, a wee bit more slowly as one rat had to carry the other.” He picked her up in his arms when he realized that her grip upon his neck was probably all that kept her standing. “Are ye going to swoon?”

“Callan women ne’er swoon.”

She had barely finished saying the words when she went completely limp in his arms and he rolled his eyes over her false bravado. He did not know where her chambers were, had made it a point not to know. That left his chambers and he was reluctant to take her there. Having Efrica in his room, upon his bed, could offer up more temptation than he could resist. Jankyn started toward the garden to find a bench where he could sit and hold her until she came out of her swoon. If anyone chanced to see them there, they would think it was two lovers trysting.

Once in the garden, Jankyn sought out a bench set between two small rowan trees, hard up against a high wall, and sat down. He settled Efrica comfortably upon his lap and studied her face in the soft light of the full moon. Even though he still ached to kill the men who had attacked her, he was glad she had stopped him again. He did not want her to see him commit such violence. The fact that she knew what he could do to a man was unsettling enough.

For a moment he wondered if he had become ashamed of what he was, then shook his head. He held none of the hard arrogance of his ancestors, that blind pride that had allowed them to see Outsiders as little more than dumb beasts to feed upon, but he was proud to be a MacNachton. The MacNachtons were more civilized now, had more respect for all life. It was fear that kept them all so secretive about their nature, fear of the dire fate awaiting anyone who was decried as a witch, a sorcerer, or a demon. And it was fear that allowed Lachlan and Thomas to escape his fury, fear of the look of horror and revulsion upon Efrica’s sweet face as he rose from the bodies of the two men, their blood staining his mouth. She understood he was merely of a different breed, as she was, and that he was not some soulless, undead creature from an unblessed grave who fed upon the living. However, knowing of his nature and seeing it displayed were two different things. Jankyn knew it would pain him far more than he cared to think about if she turned from him in fear and loathing. What he felt for her had obviously far surpassed lust and liking.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and inhaled deeply of her sweet scent. Even David’s mother, a woman he had wanted to marry and claim as his mate, had never moved him as deeply as this delicate woman did. Efrica truly was his mate, and yet even as he held her in his arms, he did not think he had ever felt so alone, for he could never claim her. It made his past sense of loneliness seem like no more than a bad mood. Although he felt certain she cared for him in many ways, and desired him, he was going to have to resist the temptation to try to win her heart. She was a woman who loved the garden, the sun, and children. He could give her only shadows, windowless rooms, and quite possibly, an empty womb. He could not do that to her.

She stirred in his arms and slowly opened her eyes. Jankyn stared into those warm, soft amber eyes and felt such a confusing wealth of emotion he was tempted to toss her to the ground and run for the hills. Instead, he kissed her, even as a mocking voice in his head called him an idiot.

Efrica was startled when Jankyn’s lips met hers. For a very brief moment, she resisted the temptation of welcoming and returning his kiss. As she slipped her arms around his neck, she told herself the occasional lapse in good judgment would not hurt her. When she parted her lips to allow the kiss to become more intimate, it took but one stroke of his tongue to banish the last twinge of caution. The heat of desire burned away all thought of anything besides how good he tasted and how alive he made her feel. His hands stroked her body and soon had her trembling with need, aching for him to touch those places he was so carefully avoiding. She was just thinking of how much she wanted to feel his skin beneath her hands when he burrowed his long fingers into her hair and pain shot through her head.

Jankyn heard her moan, and she jerked slightly in his arms. Since he felt a little dazed himself, it took him a moment to understand that it was not passion that caused her to do so. He quickly turned her around on his lap to examine the back of her head. He was relieved to discover that the swelling there was not too great, but there was a cut that needed to be cleaned.

“I thought we werenae going to do that anymore,” Efrica said when she felt she could speak calmly.

“We werenae and we arenae,” responded Jankyn as he set her on her feet and stood up. He quickly wrapped a steadying arm around her slim shoulders when she swayed slightly. “Tis unwise, especially since we will be spending time together. Where are your chambers?”

Efrica asked him as he escorted her back into the castle, “Why are we to spend time together?”

“Aside from the fact that ye have two men hunting ye?” He nodded when she frowned and then quickly told her what Malcolm had said. “In some ways, I need your protection as much as ye need mine. Ye cannae denounce or accuse those two bastards for what they have done, for unfair though it is, ye could easily be blamed for their actions or forced to marry one of them. I must needs play the courtier more than I have. My retirement from all gatherings has given the rumors and dangerous whispers fertile ground to grow in.” Stopping before the door to her chamber, he opened it and gently but firmly pushed her inside. “I will see ye on the morrow. Be sure to clean the cut upon your head.”

He shut the door, not surprised to see that she looked startled. It had been an abrupt leave-taking. Although he knew she was bruised and battered, the temptation to follow her into that room and continue what they had begun in the garden had almost been too strong to resist. He needed to cool the fire in his blood before he approached her again.

As he started toward his own bedchamber, he caught sight of Lady Eleanor at his door. Keeping to the shadows, he changed direction and returned to the garden. Jankyn looked up at the full moon and thought of the royal hunting grounds not far from the castle walls. A hunt would ease the bloodlust that still hummed in his veins after having to let Lachlan and Thomas yet again slip free. It might also ease the tight knot of unsatisfied desire that gripped his innards. Despite knowing that is was risky, he left the garden and headed for the royal hunting grounds. Tonight he would feed.