Читать книгу His Immortal Embrace - Lynsay Sands - Страница 12

Alpin strode into his great hall, saw who waited there, and cursed. Now was not a good time to face his timid bride and her family. The battle had been fierce and bloody, the smell of it still upon him. He knew how such ferocity, such bloodletting, made him look. His people were accustomed, but his bride and her family were not. He had retained enough of his senses to wash his hands and face, but it was obviously not enough, not if the wide-eyed looks of his bride’s family were any indication. As he approached the head table where most of them sat, Margaret gave out a small sob, her eyes seemed to roll back in her head, and she slipped from her chair in a swoon.

“Considering the fact that I spend a great deal of my time in battle,” he drawled as he stared down at his unconscious bride, making no move to lift her up off the floor, “this could prove to be a problem.”

He heard a faint rattle and knew Nella approached. The woman looked at the men, who did not move, then looked at the girl on the floor. Nella crouched, grasped Margaret under the arms, and looked at Alpin. Her eyes widened, but then she frowned.

“M’laird, did ye ken that your eyes look just like a wolf’s?” she asked, glancing around in surprise when several people gasped.

Leave it to Nella to simply blurt out what everyone else pretended not to see, Alpin mused. He felt a tickle of amusement creep up through the bloodlust still thrumming in his veins. A smile touched his mouth, much to his amazement, but he knew it was a mistake the moment he did it. Several muttered curses cut through the silence and he saw a number of the MacLanes cross themselves. Nella’s eyes widened even more, but she looked more curious than afraid.

“Your teeth have grown, too, havenae they?”

“Aye. ’Tis what happens when I have been in a battle.”

“Ah, aye, the beastie comes out. All that killing, maiming, and blood spurting stirs him up, eh? Are ye going to sit in your chair, m’laird?”

A little startled by her abrupt change of subject, Alpin shook his head. To his utter astonishment, the small, bone-thin Nella easily lifted up the several stone heavier and half a foot taller Margaret. Nella set the woman in his chair with little care for any added bruises or concern for Margaret’s appearance. His betrothed was sprawled in his chair like some insensate drunk.

And what was this talk of a beastie? he wondered. The moment he asked himself the question, he knew the answer. It was how Sophie had explained his affliction to Nella. Nella believed in the curse as strongly as Sophie did. Sophie had obviously told Nella that the curse had put a beast inside of him. It was a nice thought, far better than the truth. The truth was that the beast was him and he could not exorcise it. Soon, he suspected, he would not be able to control it, either.

“Your food and drink are in your bedchamber, m’laird,” said the buxom maid Anne, pulling him from his dark thoughts.

“Good,” he said. “ ’Tis time I sought my solitude.”

“Shall I—” began Anne.

“Nay.”

Knowing she was offering him the use of her body, he wondered at his reluctance. It had been far too long since he had had a woman and his body was taut and needy. Anne had serviced him in the past when he had returned from a battle, so he knew she could endure the wildness in him at such times. Then he saw the glint of fear and disgust in the woman’s eyes, visible beneath the arrogance and anticipation. Whatever her reasons were for offering herself, one of them was certainly not desire. Inwardly shaking his head, he headed for his bedchamber. He wanted only one woman anyway, and he could not have her. Not only did she probably not understand how to prevent a child from taking root, but he could not subject her to a bedding by the beast raging inside of him.

A bath awaited him and he took quick advantage of it, scrubbing the scent of death from his skin. Although he ached to find the strength to turn away from the meal set out for him, he could not. His hunger was too great and he feared what he might do if he did not slake it in some way. Alpin tore into the meat barely seared on either side, his speed in finishing it born of both need and revulsion. He poured himself some of his enriched wine and stood by the window, staring down into the torch-lit bailey. A little of the ferocity within him eased as he fed the craving that so disgusted and terrified him. When would enriched wine and raw meat cease to be enough? he wondered.

He tensed as he heard someone slip into his room. The fact that the scent he picked up was Sophie’s did not ease his tension at all. This was a very bad time for her to come to his bedchamber. He listened to her take a few hesitant steps toward him, then stop. Slowly, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he savored her scent. She had bathed; her warm skin smelled of woman, with a hint of lavender. To him she smelled of laughter, of warm sun and wildflowers, of hope. He could almost hate her for that.

Another scent tantalized him and he grew so tense his muscles ached as he opened his eyes to stare blindly out of the window. Sophie smelled of desire. Alpin hastily finished his drink, but it satisfied only one hunger. There was another now raging inside of him, fed by the hint of feminine musk. He breathed it in, opening his mouth slightly to enhance his ability, and the blood began to pound in his veins.

“Go away, Sophie,” he said. “’Tisnae a good time for ye to be near me.”

It took Sophie a moment to realize he had spoken to her. From the minute she had entered the room to see him standing there wearing only a drying cloth wrapped around his lean hips, she had been spellbound. She had cautiously moved closer to him, her palms tingling with the need to touch that broad, strong back. He was so beautiful, he made her heart ache.

“I felt ye return,” she said, taking another step toward him. “I wished to see that ye had come to no harm.”

“I am still alive, if ye can call this living.”

She sighed, but decided not to try to dispute his words this time. “I felt—”

“What? The beastie in me? The ferocity? The bloodlust? Or,” he looked at her over his shoulder, “just the lust?”

Alpin realized his error the moment he set eyes upon her. Her hair was down, hanging in long, thick golden waves to her slender hips. She wore only a thin linen chemise, the delicate curves of her lithe body easy to see. Her wide eyes were fixed upon him, more green than blue. Sophie was all soft, womanly sunlight, and he craved every small inch of her.

Sophie shook her head. “I felt that ye needed me, but, mayhap, that was just vanity.”

He turned to look at her more fully. “Nay, not vain. I do need ye, but I willnae allow myself to feed that hunger.”

“Because of Lady Margaret?”

“Nay.”

“Then why?” She forced herself not to reveal how his sudden move toward her startled her, knowing how easily he could read it as fear.

“Why?” He nearly snarled the word, standing so close to her he had to clench his hands into tight fists to keep himself from touching her. “Look at me. I am more beast than mon.”

He did look quite feral, she mused, with his eyes more yellow than golden brown, and they had changed in that odd way again to look more like an animal’s than a man’s. His teeth had also changed a little, looking far more predatory. Subtle though the changes were, they were alarming, but not because she feared he could hurt her. She had seen such changes in him before, although not this clearly. The changes were proof, however, that nothing she had done so far had lessened the tight grip of the curse.

“The mon is still there, Alpin,” she said quietly.

“Is he?” He strode to the table and picked up the plate that had held his meal. “Does a mon eat naught but meat, meat barely cooked, simply passed o’er the fire until it becomes as warm as a fresh kill?” He poured the blood that still pooled upon the dish into his tankard, then filled it with more wine. “Does a mon drink wine heartened with blood?” He took a long drink before setting the tankard down. “And the mix grows more heartened with each passing year. The craving grows stronger.”

He walked toward her again. “And what mon, save the most bestial, takes such delight in battle? I have blood upon my hands, Sophie. I have washed them but I can still smell it. From the moment I first swung my sword this night, my bloodlust raged. The smell of blood and death were a heady perfume to me. I ken not how many men I killed, and I care not. I can kill as fiercely with my bare hands as with my sword. And, this night, I killed a mon with my teeth,” he continued in a hoarse voice. “I fell upon a mon and tore his throat open with my teeth. For a moment, as his blood heated my mouth, I was filled with a savage hunger. I wanted to drink it all. It was sweet and the mon’s fear made it taste even sweeter. Is that the act of a mon?”

It was a particularly gruesome tale, and a very bad sign, but she placed her hand upon his arm and quietly asked, “Was the mon unarmed? Was he offering his sword in surrender? Was he crying out for mercy?”

His gaze fixed upon that small, soft hand that touched his skin, Alpin shook his head. “Nay. His sword was about to take Eric’s head from his shoulders. That doesnae matter,” he began.

“It does. Aye, the manner in which ye killed the mon is worrisome, for it means the curse still holds ye firmly within its grasp. Yet ye had to kill him or he would have killed Eric. This mon was armed and your enemy. Any mon would have killed him. And none of what ye have said truly answers my question, for I have kenned what ye are from the verra beginning.”

“The why is because ye are a virgin, and so ye cannae ken the ways to stop my seed from taking root and use them. The why is because I can smell your desire and it has the blood pounding so fiercely in my veins, I near shake with need. ’Twould be no gentle bedding I would be giving ye. Nay,” he continued in a softer voice, “I want to sink myself deep into your heat, Sophie Hay. Sink deep and ride hard. That isnae the way to take a virgin.” He started toward the door. “And ’tis wrong to take a lass’s maidenhead when I cannae wed her.”

“Where are ye going?” Sophie was not surprised to hear how husky her voice had become, for his words, his seductive tone of voice, had stirred her almost as strongly as the sight of his strong body so meagerly covered.

“To one who kens how to keep her womb clean. Anne may not desire me, but she is always willing to service me.”

“ ’Tis the wrong time for me to conceive,” Sophie said, desperate to stop him from going to another’s bed. She would lose him to another soon enough.

His hand tightening on the latch of the door, Alpin hesitated. “How can ye be sure?”

“I am a healer, Alpin. There is also a potion or two I can drink.” Something she had no intention of doing, but he did not need to know that. “And when was the last time The MacCordy bred a bastard, or e’en a second child?”

Alpin slowly turned to face her. “Never,” he replied, feeling somewhat shaken by the realization.

“Of course not. For the curse to continue unthreatened, there can only be one heir. Each Galt woman has but one daughter. Or, as was shown by my mother and aunt, one birth producing a female or twin females. Thus the curse can continue in us as weel. If there was a brother, then the firstborn son of The MacCordy could have been slain ere he bred an heir, thus ending the curse. E’en a bastard son could have done so. Mayhap e’en a girl child.”

“Bairns can die,” he said as he started to walk toward her. “Many do. Too many.”

“When Rona cursed your ancestor, she changed the fate of The MacCordy and of the Galt women of her bloodline. The curse was upon the firstborn son, the legitimate heir, therefore ye couldnae die or that fate would be altered. Mayhap, if a Galt woman of the line had died young, another would have been born to satisfy the curse, but I dinnae think it e’er happened.”

“Ye speak as if the curse is a living thing.”

She shrugged. “After so long, it may be in some ways. ’Tis our fate, our destiny, and such things willnae be denied, unless I can find the key to unlock its grip upon our lives.”

He reached out and slowly dragged his fingers through her hair. Closing his eyes, he could hear the tempo of her blood increase, could smell her desire return and begin to grow stronger. By making him see that there would be no child born of their union, she had cut the only real tether upon his control. He could have her now. He had to have her now. Alpin grasped the hem of her shift and swiftly pulled it off her.

It happened so quickly, Sophie had no time to cover herself before he picked her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. He set her down and tore off his only covering, staring at her body all the while with a fierce hunger that made her feel beautiful. For the moment or two he stood there looking at her, Sophie took the opportunity to have a good look at him. That only added to her need for him. He was glorious, all smooth skin and taut, sleek muscle. And rather impressively manly, she thought, her gaze fixed upon his erection. She felt the rise of a virginal unease and ruthlessly smothered it.

Sophie was shocked when he settled his long body on top of hers, but not by the fact that she held a naked man. The feel of his skin against her, the hard contours of his body fitting so well with her soft curves, had her trembling from the strength of her desire. The feel of his mouth against the pulse in her throat did not frighten her, not even when she felt the light touch of his teeth. It made her breath catch in her throat as her need for him swiftly increased. As she ran her hands over his broad back, savoring the feel of his warm skin, she wondered if all of the heated dreams she had had were the reason why her passion was rising so swiftly and fiercely.

Then she frowned and tensed slightly, realizing that she had forgotten to shield herself from whatever memories and emotions were trapped within his bed. She did not want other passions Alpin had stirred in the bed affecting what they felt now. Sophie began to try to shield herself, only to realize there was no need. The only person she could sense had used this bed was Alpin.

“Um, Alpin?” She studied him when he clasped her face in his long, elegant hands and began to touch hot, soft kisses to her cheeks. “Ye have done this before, havenae ye?”

He smiled against her forehead. “A time or two, aye.” He kissed the corners of her beautiful eyes. “It was a need I tried to ignore, for I feared breeding a child. The few times I weakened I went to the woman, or took her elsewhere. I didnae want the scent of mating upon my bed, for it would torment me, making it harder for me to subdue my monly hungers.” He thought of one place he had taken Anne, inwardly grimaced, then began to tease Sophie’s full lips with soft kisses and gentle nips. “Once in the bed ye now sleep upon,” he heard himself confess and wondered what had possessed him to do so.

“Weel, ye arenae the only one. I think there have been many matings in that bed.” She opened her mouth, inviting the deep, passionate kiss she ached for. “ ’Tis why Nella now sleeps in the bed and I use her pallet. The bed was, er, unsettling.” She twined her arms around his neck, threaded the fingers of one hand into his thick hair, and tried to hold his mouth to hers. “Are we going to go elsewhere soon?”

“Nay.” He slid his hand up her rib cage and over her small, perfect breast, then savored her gasp of pleasure as it warmed his mouth. “I want your scent here. I want the scent of our loving to penetrate so deep that it will be years ere it fades. When I am again alone, I want to be able to breathe deep of it and remember.”

Sophie was glad he kissed her then, and not simply because she so desperately wanted him to. She had been about to ask him where he intended to put his wife. Then she forgot all about his marriage, the uncertain future, and the dark past. Sophie was aware only of the feel and taste of him, the touch of his hands and his mouth, and the need he stirred within her. She sensed that he practiced some restraint, but she had none.

When he finally joined their bodies, she was barely aware of the brief, stinging pain signaling the loss of her maidenhead. She was so immersed in the joy and pleasure of feeling his body joined to hers, that it was a moment or two before she realized he was not moving. Looking up at the man bracing himself over her, Sophie mused that she had never seen him look so feral, nor so beautiful and arousing.

“The pain?” he began, finding speech difficult, as his every sense was fixed upon the feel of her, her heat, her scent, and his own blinding need.

“Was quickly gone.” She slid her hands down his back and stroked his taut buttocks, sighing with delight when he convulsively pushed deeper within her. “Oh, my, ye do feel good.” Sophie wrapped her legs around him. “More, please.”

He groaned and kissed her even as he began to move. Sophie opened herself up fully to the pleasure he gave her. Soon it was questionable as to which of them was fiercer in their passion. Then, she shattered, swept away to a place of such intense pleasure that she lost all awareness. Just as she began to recover, Alpin drove deep within her, crying out as his own release gripped him. To Sophie’s delight and astonishment, the feel of his seed, of his intense pleasure, sent her racing back to the blinding heights of desire. When he collapsed in her arms, she held him close, and felt sanity slowly return to them both.

Sophie was a little frightened by how deeply she loved this man, then told herself not to be such a fool. There was no controlling the heart in such matters. At the moment, she could see no future in loving him. She would leave, alone and heartsore, he would marry Margaret, and they would all remain prisoners of the curse.

The thought of such a cold future made her hug him closer, and she kissed the top of his head. When he lifted his head and smiled at her, she smiled back and knew she would love him always, no matter what the future held. She would hold that love close and cherish it. Unlike so many of her ancestors, however, she would not wallow in grief over what she had lost. She would find joy in her memories and she would continue to fight the curse, to try to find a way to break it.

Sophie kissed him, felt him harden within her, and silently swore that she would turn her love for him, returned or not, into a strength. With that strength she would find a way to end the curse, to give him the full, natural life he deserved, even if it was not a life he would share with her. It was what her love demanded of her, the least she could do in return for the joy he gave her, no matter how briefly it lasted.