Читать книгу Highland Vampire - Hannah Howell - Страница 8

Efrica smiled faintly as she watched Lachlan and Thomas help each other stand up. They both looked frantically around the garden, then ran as if the devil himself were nipping at their backsides. If they knew the truth about the man who had tossed them around so effortlessly, they would probably be even more terrified. She just wished she could be certain this was the end of the trouble she would have with them.

Leaving the window, she poured herself a little of the untreated wine Jankyn obviously kept on hand for guests, and returned to her seat by his bed. David had briefly appeared and, after hearing what had happened, had offered to sit with his father, but she had sent him on his way. He had clearly wanted to return to the great hall for food and company, while she was content to remain out of sight for a while. The very last thing she wanted was to confront her attackers again. David had taken a note to her cousin Lady Barbara Matheson so that woman would not search for her or worry.

As she sipped her wine, Efrica studied the tall, slender man sprawled on the bed. It annoyed her to discover that her infatuation with the man still lingered despite three years of strangling it. His looks made such feelings understandable, for he was a beautiful man with his deep black hair and creamy skin. A long straight nose, high cheekbones, and a firm jaw gave his face an elegant, aristocratic look, whereas his thickly lashed golden eyes and sensuous mouth gave his face the warmth such perfectly carved features often lacked. In looks, he was all any woman could ask for. It was his nature that had made her so determined to kill all attraction to him. That was obviously going to take a lot more work.

She should have realized she had not cured herself of her fascination with Jankyn. From that first meeting at Cambrun when she was just a girl of sixteen, he had entered her dreams and stayed there. When she had arrived at court, she had learned of his reputation with women and the pangs that had roused should have warned her. If he had not exiled himself from those at court, she would have seen him with one or more women and ruefully admitted she would have undoubtedly suffered far more than a pang. It was unacceptable, but she was not sure what she could do.

Finishing her wine, she settled herself more comfortably in the chair, resting her feet on the edge of his bed. She would stay with Jankyn until she was sure he had recovered, and then she would do her best to stay far away from him. She refused to allow her heart to be held captive by a licentious rogue who lived in the shadows. Closing her eyes, she carefully listed all of Jankyn’s faults until she fell asleep.

Jankyn slowly opened his eyes to a room lit only by a nearly burnt-out candle set near his bed. A moment later, he recalled why he was lying on his bed and feeling a little weak. As he started to look around, his gaze settled on a pair of small, stockinged feet resting on the edge of his bed. After an appreciative study of the slender legs exposed almost to the knee, he looked at the woman sleeping in the chair and grinned. For a tiny woman, Efrica was taking up a lot of the large chair she was sprawled in, her slim arms dangling over the arms of the chair. Even so, the heavy, ornately carved seat accentuated her delicate build. He wondered how she had managed to move it, then recalled the strength she had revealed as she had helped him to his chambers.

Careful not to jostle her, he pulled himself up into a seated position, resting against pillows someone had obviously plumped up behind him. Although she still looked very young, her features had lost the last of the childish softness she had still possessed at sixteen. Her thick, honey gold hair hung in tangled waves to pool around her slim hips upon the seat of the chair. There was a faint touch of gold to her beautiful skin. There was also a slight feline cast to her delicate, fine-boned features, except for the full, tempting shape of her lips. Even at sixteen her mouth had been one to turn a man’s thoughts lustful. Of course, right now, that tempting mouth was slightly open and emitting a faint snore. And that long, beautiful neck of hers was cocked at an awkward angle that could probably cause her a twinge or two when she woke up.

Telling himself he was only doing it for her own good, to try to save her from a little discomfort, Jankyn nudged her foot with his until she started to wake up. When her eyes opened, the clouds of sleep that lingered there turned them a warm amber color. It made him think of how her eyes might look clouded with the heat of passion. It was a dangerous thought.

“Ye have your feet upon my bed,” he said and relaxed a little when the softness in her eyes was rapidly replaced by a look of irritation.

“I took my shoes off,” she said even as she put her feet on the floor and began to stretch, trying to rid her body of the various small aches caused by sleeping in a chair.

Jankyn wondered how she could make such a simple act look so sensuous. “I thank ye for stopping me from killing those two fools, though they weel deserved it.”

“Aye, they did, but twould have caused trouble, raised questions neither of us could afford to answer. And I thank ye for coming to my aid.” She frowned a little. “I am a wee bit surprised ye were so close at hand whilst the sun was still in the sky.”

“I was in the window. Tis shelter enough late in the day. I simply leapt down when it became clear that ye were losing the battle.”

Efrica looked at the window, recalled how far above the ground it was, and looked back at Jankyn. “A bit dangerous.”

“Nay. The sun was a far greater threat. Tis why I was slow to interfere,” he admitted. “I had hoped ye could deal with it on your own.”

“They were weel practiced in such games, I fear.” She scowled. “Mayhap I should have let ye rip their throats out. Now they can recover and repeat their crimes against women.”

“Twill be a while ere Lachlan dares show his face. Those scratches ye marked him with will take time to heal.” Hating the lingering weakness that necessitated it, he asked, “Could ye bring me another tankard of my wine?”

Efrica nodded and went to get him his drink. She silently cursed her keen sense of smell, for it made it impossible to ignore the fact that his wine was enriched with blood. His need for it was one of the reasons she fought her attraction to him so vigorously. She never ceased to be amazed that her sister Bridget, married to the laird of the MacNachtons, could be so happy in a place where the sun never cast its warmth or light and among a people who required such a gruesome sustenance. It was because Bridget loved her laird, of course. Efrica was determined not to fall into that trap, but her heart appeared reluctant to heed good sense.

Jankyn’s hand shook slightly as he took hold of the tankard, and Efrica moved to help him. She put one arm around his broad shoulders and placed her other hand over his to steady it as he drank. Being so close to him had her heart pounding in her chest and her blood running hot. Telling herself it would be humiliating to suddenly pull away and flee the room, she silently prayed Jankyn could not sense her reaction and would finish his drink quickly.

The drink rapidly revived Jankyn, but that made him all too aware of the slender, warm female so close at hand. As he sipped the last of his drink, he slowly inhaled her scent, an intoxicating blend of clean skin, woman, and a hint of lavender. He had been attracted to Efrica from the first moment he had set eyes on her, and that attraction was rapidly breaking every bond he had placed on it.

Just one little kiss, he mused as he slipped his arm around her small waist. Just one little taste of what he had long wanted, but knew he could not have. And he would have to steal it, he thought, for she was already tensed to leave his side. He finished his drink, tossed the tankard aside, and tugged her down onto the bed beside him so swiftly, she had no time to flee.

“What are ye doing?” she demanded, sternly telling herself to pull free yet discovering she was unable to heed that sensible command.

“Should ye nay thank your gallant rescuer with something a wee bit warmer than words?” he asked.

“I think that may be verra unwise.”

“Ye are probably right.”

Instead of releasing her, however, he wrapped his other arm around her and kissed her. Efrica’s resistance to the embrace lasted barely longer than a heartbeat. His lips were so enticingly soft and warm. Just one little kiss, she told herself. Just one little taste of what she had so often dreamt of. When he nudged at her lips with his tongue, she parted them, welcoming the deepening of the kiss. With but one stroke of his tongue, the heat of desire raged through her veins, burning away all common sense and resistance. A little voice in her head warned her that now she had been embraced by him, one kiss would never be enough, but she ignored it.

It was not until he had shifted their bodies around on the bed until she was sprawled beneath him that Efrica regained a sense of the danger she was in. For one brief moment, she savored the feel of his lean, highly aroused body pressed against her. It was so tempting to take what he offered, what she wanted so badly, she ached with the need. She knew, however, that if she became his lover, it would bind her to him in ways she might never break free of. That thought gave her the strength to shake loose of desire’s tight grip, and scramble free of his embrace. As she stood by the side of the bed struggling to regain some sense of calm, she was happy to see that he was as flushed and breathless as she felt.

“I am nay one of your ladies,” she said, pleased with the cool steadiness of her voice.

“I have no ladies,” he said.

“Ha! I have heard all about ye since coming here. Weel, I have no intention of joining your stable.”

He inwardly cursed, all too aware of what was said about him and the women of the court. It annoyed him that he felt a sudden need to explain, even excuse, his earlier excesses. He was unwed and unpromised, had simply taken what was offered, as would any man. The look of something akin to disappointment in her eyes stung him nevertheless.

“Gossip and rumor are nay fact.” He did not blame her for rolling her eyes over that pathetic response.

When she realized she wanted him to tell her that what she had heard was all lies, that he had been as chaste as a monk, Efrica decided it was time to leave. “Ye should be careful about disdaining all I have heard,” she drawled, “oh great dark stallion.” She had to grin at the way he blushed, then scowled at her.

“Now I am certain ye have heard naught but whispered lies. And just what are ye doing here?”

“My cousin Barbara brought me. I am nearing twenty. Past time I get a husband.”

The thought of another man touching Efrica, claiming her as his own, stirred a rage in Jankyn he fought hard to hide. “Barbara doesnae appear to be a verra good chaperone.”

“She is the best. She doesnae cling to one’s side, but is there when needed.”

“Such as in the garden?”

A telling point, but she just shrugged. “Twas still daylight. It should have been safe. I will be more wary now. And may I now ask what ye are doing here? Aside from rutting yourself blind, that is.”

Jankyn ignored that last remark. “I seek a wife for David. He is more Outsider than MacNachton, and I thought I could arrange a profitable marriage for him.”

“Ah, of course. Twould certainly serve the clan weel if ye succeed.”

“Aye, if only because it would allow us to point to one of our own who isnae so, weel—”

“Odd?”

“As good a word as any.” He looked her over, then quirked one brow. “Do ye plan to keep your secrets from a husband?”

Efrica wished she had an easy answer for that question, one she continuously asked herself. “I believe my secrets are easier to keep.”

“True. Save for that noise ye make when your blood runs hot,” he murmured, feeling his tamped-down desire stir at the memory of that low, throaty purr she had made as they had embraced. “Wives shouldnae purr, I am thinking.”

“And I am thinking I had best leave ere I give in to the urge to strangle ye,” she snapped, embarrassed that he had obviously known exactly how much his kisses had stirred her.

“Alas, so easily does the purring kitten become the hissing cat.”

Opening her mouth to retort, Efrica quickly shut it again, swallowing the insults crowding her tongue concerning blood-drinking men who swooned like frail maidens when touched by the sun. “Nay, ye willnae goad me into trading insults.” She stared toward the door. “I have grown beyond such things,” she announced loftily. “Maturity, ye ken. Ye should try it.”

A solid blow, he mused and grinned. That grin widened when she slammed the door behind her as she left. Maturity obviously did not stop her from indulging in that show of pique.

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. It was then that he realized that the candle had flickered out quite a while ago and the room was almost completely dark. Efrica had not even realized it. He idly wondered if he should tell her that most people could not see so well in the dark, that a husband would surely notice such a skill and find it odd.

The thought of Efrica with another man banished his amusement. What a woman did before or after him had never troubled him before. He had, of course, never thought of Efrica with a man. In his mind she had always been that innocently sensuous young lass, sister to his laird’s wife, and forbidden fruit. It had never entered his mind that she would not be forbidden fruit to every man, nor that she would not wish to be. Worse, now that he had had a taste of that forbidden fruit, he craved more. He wanted to hear her purr again, and he wanted to be the only man who heard her make that intoxicating sound. Jankyn had the sinking feeling that stealing a taste of that forbidden fruit was the biggest mistake he had ever made.