Читать книгу His Immortal Embrace - Lynsay Sands - Страница 13

Sophie sat before the fire to brush dry her newly washed hair and wondered what she should do next. As far as she was concerned, last night had set her course for her, but she was not sure if Alpin felt the same. He had not turned cold toward her, but there had been no opportunity or time to even speak to him. The MacLanes and the coming wedding had taken up most of his attention. She had caught a look in his eyes now and again, one of such passion it had caused her blood to run hot, but that did not mean he intended to make her his lover. Last night could have been seen by Alpin as no more than a weakening of his control, something he would now fight to regain. Sophie found that possibility very painful, but also understood it. He sought to protect her.

What she needed to decide was whether or not she would go to him if he did not seek her out. That would require her to swallow a great deal of pride, perhaps even subject herself to a harsh rejection as Alpin sought and regained his control. Then again, time was swiftly running out for her to make him love her enough to choose her, to have enough faith in her to know she would never turn from him no matter how dark the future. If she was right about the way the curse could be broken, then such cowardly behavior as fearing how he might hurt her or damage her pride was almost as great a sin as Rona’s. All of their futures could rest upon his choice of bride and, if she allowed him to set her aside, that choice would definitely be Margaret. If she failed, she would have years to nurse her bruised heart and stung pride.

For one brief moment, she felt guilty. Margaret was his betrothed bride and a betrothal was as sacred as a marriage. She was not only trying to take Margaret’s soon-to-be husband away from her, but, in the eyes of many, committing a sin very close to adultery. Then she shook her head, telling herself she had no cause for guilt concerning Margaret. The woman did not want Alpin. She was doing as her father commanded, but made her despair painfully clear to all. And if there was a penance for giving Alpin all her love when they were not married and might never marry, Sophie knew she would pay it gladly.

A sound at the door made her heart skip with anticipation. Alpin was coming to her. She turned and gaped, the sharp sting of disappointment swiftly pushed aside by a wary fear. It was not Alpin but one of Sir Peter’s men entering her room and hastily barring the door behind him. She did not need to ask why he was there; the reason was clear to see in his expression. It was a chillingly lustful look, the sort of lust that he would satisfy whether she agreed to service him or not. She had seen that look upon his face a few times, but had foolishly thought he would never dare to act upon it.

“I suggest ye leave, Sir Ranald,” she said, pleased with the calm tone of her voice, for inside she was trembling. “My maid will soon come and will be sure to set up a cry if the door remains barred.”

“That bone-thin bitch Nella?” Sir Ranald chuckled. “Nay, I dinnae think so.”

“What have ye done to Nella?” she demanded, suspicious of his certainty that they would not soon be disturbed.

“Just a wee tap to send her to sleep. Sat her up against the wall outside your door. Anyone sees her, they will think she nodded off to sleep whilst guarding your door.”

“She sleeps in here and all ken it.”

“Just as they all ken ye are far more than the laird’s healing woman, aye?”

“Dinnae be such an idiot.” As he approached, she started to step away, wondering if she had any chance at all of reaching the door, unbarring it, and fleeing before he could grab her. “And if I am more than that, attacking me isnae verra wise. ’Tis certain ye have heard all that is said of Sir Alpin. Such a mon isnae a good one to insult or anger.”

“Ach, he willnae do anything about a mon helping himself to a wee taste of a whore. And he cannae do too much to me, can he? I am cousin to the bride.”

He lunged at her and Sophie darted out of the way. Several times she managed to elude his grasp, throwing everything she could get her hands on. It all barely made him stumble in his relentless pursuit. She managed to get to the door, felt a tiny flicker of hope as she began to lift the bar, only to have it painfully doused when he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back.

Although she fought with all her strength, Sir Ranald soon had her pinned to the bed. The sound of her nightshift tearing sent a chill of panic racing through her veins. She had only enjoyed one night of passion in Alpin’s arms. She could not allow this man to defile her, possibly damage her ability to feel desire ever again, or, worse, cause shame to cool Alpin’s passion for her or hers for him. Sophie cursed Sir Ranald, desperately tried to break his hold on her, and screamed for Alpin in her mind.

Alpin sipped his wine and calmly watched Sir Peter talk. It was hard to conceal his contempt for the man. Sir Peter spoke of the vanquishing of his enemies as if he had done it all himself, even though all knew he had waited out the battle safe at Nochdaidh. The man was a coward willing to toss his daughter into the lair of the beast so that someone else would do his fighting for him.

“Alpin!”

He tensed and looked around, certain he had just heard Sophie call to him. A tickle of superstitious fear ran through him when he could see neither her nor Nella. No one else showed any sign of having heard her call, either.

“Alpin!”

It was in his head, he realized in shock. There was a touch of fear in the way his name was being cried out. Alpin did not know how Sophie got into his mind, but he felt every instinct he possessed, those of the man and those of the beast, come roaring to life. Something was wrong.

Sophie was in danger, he thought as he slowly stood up. He was certain of it. Then he saw that Sir Ranald was missing from the great hall. The man had often stirred Alpin’s anger with the way he looked at Sophie. Alpin looked at the man who always sat with Sir Ranald, but that man refused to meet his gaze.

“Sophie,” was all Alpin said as he ran out of the hall.

Eric had noticed the change start to come over Alpin, and, vaulting over the table, raced after him. He had no idea what had set Alpin’s beast loose, but the way the man had said Sophie’s name had sent a chill of alarm down Eric’s spine. If some fool was hurting Sophie, Eric feared he was about to be faced with the awesome task of trying to stop his enraged laird from killing a man.

Alpin halted before the door of Sophie’s bedchamber. He saw Nella slumped against the wall, but the sound of her heartbeat told him she was only unconcious, and he turned his attention back to the door. A cry of pain from within spurred him on. He slammed his foot into the door, twice, and heard the bar crack. Then he rammed his shoulder against the thick wood, breaking the door open so fiercely it crashed against the wall.

He scented Sophie’s fear and the hot lust of the man pinning her to the bed. With a soft growl, he leapt toward the bed just as Sir Ranald looked to see what had caused the loud noise. The man screamed and tried to flee, but Alpin grabbed him by the throat and the crotch. He held the cursing, praying man over his head and then threw him against the wall.

A hand grabbed his arm and he easily shook it off. A small, still sane part of his mind recognized Eric’s voice, but Alpin ignored his friend. He hoisted the now weeping Sir Ranald over his head again.

“Alpin, ye came in time.”

That soft, husky voice calling his name cut right through Alpin’s rage. The bloodlust still roared in his veins, however. He ached to kill this man who had touched Sophie, had hurt and frightened her. Yet, he could not do so in front of her. Still holding Ranald, Alpin walked out of the room to the head of the stairs and tossed the man into the crowd of MacLanes hurrying up the steps. He then returned to Sophie’s bedchamber, walked to the bed, and reached for her.

Sophie did not hesitate. She flung herself into his arms, wrapping her arms about his neck and her legs about his waist, clinging to him like a small child. She sensed the fury and bloodlust which still pounded in his veins, but she felt only the comfort of his arms, the protection he offered her. As he walked out of her bedchamber, she caught sight of Nella and made a soft sound of distress.

“She lives. E’en now she wakes,” Alpin said and continued on to his own bedchamber. “Eric will see to her care.” He stepped into his room and barred the door behind him.

Eric helped a slowly rousing Nella to her feet, putting his arm around her to steady her. “Ye will be fine, lassie.”

“Oh! My lady!” Nella cried, suddenly recalling who had attacked her and easily guessing why.

“The laird has her.”

“Ah.” Nella slumped against Eric, finding comfort in the burly strength of the man. “ ’Tis a wonder, as I ne’er thought such words would cross my lips, but I am glad he has her.” She squeaked in alarm, although she did not move, when Eric suddenly drew his sword and held it out to stop Sir Peter’s advance on Alpin’s bedchamber.

“He nearly killed my nephew!” snapped Sir Peter, but he made no further move toward Alpin’s room.

“Ye are lucky the fool still breathes. He was after raping the Lady Sophie.”

“So he tried to have a wee tussle with the laird’s whore. ’Tisnae worth breaking near every bone in his body.”

Eric felt Nella stiffen with outrage and tightened his grip on her. “Ye should try thinking ere ye speak, Sir Peter.”

“Curse it, he shames my daughter, insults her by carrying on e’en whilst the wedding preparations are made.” He took a step toward Alpin’s room, only to stop and draw a sharp breath when Eric pressed the tip of his sword more firmly against his chest.

“If ye take another step, I will gut ye where ye stand. Ye will leave the laird and Lady Sophie alone, and, if ye are wise, ye will say naught. Your lass has made it verra clear she doesnae want this marriage, so I doubt she cares what the laird does as long as he doesnae come too close to her. Still, I suspect there will be a marriage done. E’en if the laird comes to his senses, ye can probably make some other arrangement to ensure he still fights your battles for ye.” Eric met the man’s glare calmly and watched him stalk away, back down the stairs. “A fool as weel as a coward,” he muttered.

Nella looked up at Eric. “Did that bastard hurt my lady?”

“Nay,” replied Eric. “Alpin reached her in time, although I cannae say how he kenned she needed help.”

“There are a lot of things I dinnae understand about all of this, about the curse, e’en about some of the things Sophie can do. Dinnae think I e’er will.” She looked around him, her eyes widening when she saw the battered condition of the door. “The laird did that?”

“Aye. The bloodlust was running high in him. If your lady hadnae spoken to him, I think he would have torn that fool Sir Ranald apart.” He saw Nella frown in the direction of Alpin’s bedchamber. “He willnae hurt her.”

“I think I begin to believe that. Weel, at least that he willnae hurt her in body, but I think he will sorely bruise her heart.” She sighed and looked back at Eric. “She loves him, ye ken.”

“Aye, and I think he loves her. Unfortunately, that will probably ensure that he sends her away.”

Nella nodded. “And thus doom us all.”

“I thought we were all doomed anyway.”

“My lady thinks she kens how to break the curse, but I shouldnae tell ye. There cannae be any help given. It has to be by free choice, unaided and undriven.”

“I swear I will hold fast to what ye tell me,” vowed Eric.

“She thinks she is the key to unlock the curse. She thinks he has to choose her o’er Margaret with her lands and her dowry.”

Eric stared at Nella for a moment, then cursed. “Of course. ’Tis there to see in the last few lines of that bitch’s curse. ’Tis so clear, I wonder that we didnae all see it the moment we heard it. Heart o’er gain. Sophie o’er Margaret. And ye are right. It must be his choice, one made without prodding or trickery. Wheesht, lass, ye have set a heavy burden upon my shoulders.”

“Aye, ’tis a hard thing to ken and nay be able to act upon,” Nella said.

“Exactly. I can see hope within our grasp, but I must stand silent. All I can do is pray that Alpin acts as he must to free us all.”

Nella looked back at Alpin’s door. “Pray that as he holds her close, he comes to need that verra much, indeed, so much that he decides to cast aside that noble plan to free her for her own sake.” She shook her head. “Pray, for all our sakes, that your laird has one blinding moment of selfishness which lasts long enough to ensure there is nay turning back.”

Alpin watched the firelight caress Sophie’s skin as she stood before the fire and washed herself. Each time she dampened the rag in the bowl of water and ran it over her skin, he felt desire tauten his insides. She was so beautiful, so graceful, it made him ache. He was not blind to the bruises upon her skin, however, and had to fight back a strong urge to hunt Sir Ranald down and kill him.

That rage and bloodlust had still held him firmly in its grip when he had first brought her into his room. Alpin could vaguely recall stripping them both and climbing into his bed with her in his arms. He had held her while she had wept. At some point during that emotional storm, she had fallen asleep. Still holding her close, he, too, had dozed, waking when she had slipped from his arms. And, despite the fact that he wanted her back in his arms, he was thoroughly enjoying the view.

Sophie blushed when she dried herself, turned to go back to bed, and caught Alpin watching her. She hurried to the side of the bed, gasping with surprise when he suddenly moved, grabbed her, and pulled her into his arms. The man could move with astonishing speed, she thought, as he tucked the bedcovers over them both. She wrapped her arms around him as he nuzzled her neck.

“I can still smell him,” Alpin muttered, then tightened his hold on her when she tried to move away. “Stay.”

“But if the smell troubles you,” she began even as she relaxed in his arms.

“It but restirs the urge to tear him apart.”

“He didnae, er, finish.”

“I ken it. I fear I would be able to smell that, too, and that would stir a rage I couldnae control.”

“Oh. Do ye ken, I think having such a keen sense of smell must be a burden at times. Some of the scents wafting through the air arenae verra pleasing.”

He smiled against her neck, then lightly nipped the life-giving vein he pressed his lips against. There was a dark part of him that hungered for a taste of what pulsed through that vein, but he did not fear it. He knew that, as long as he retained even the smallest scrap of sanity, he would not hurt Sophie. She was his sunlight, that bright warmth he so yearned to enjoy again, but which would only bring him death now. She was the flowers that no longer grew in his shadowed world, the laughter that so rarely echoed in the halls of Nochdaidh, and the hope they had all lost but yearned to regain. And, he realized, she could reach the man still inside of him even at the height of his bloodlust.

“I am sorry I wept all over ye,” Sophie murmured. “’Tis odd, for, whilst that fool was attacking me, I was mostly furious. Then, ye came, and I was safe, yet I wept.”

“He hurt you.” Alpin raised himself up on one elbow and began to gently touch each bruise upon her silken skin. “And, ’tisnae how one acts after the danger has passed that matters. ’Tisnae unknown for men to collapse, trembling and terrified, after the battle is done. I heard ye call to me,” he said quietly as he lightly kissed a bruise upon her throat. “In my mind I heard ye call my name.”

“How wondrous strange. I did call your name—inside my head. Weel, our families have been bound together by Rona’s curse for o’er four hundred years. Mayhap that has something to do with it.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him close as he kissed the bruises upon her breasts. “They dinnae hurt,” she said when he frowned at a bruise as he traced its shape with his long fingers.

“The bastard left his mark upon your skin.”

Sophie placed her hands on either side of his head, turned his face up to hers, and brushed a kiss over his mouth. “So I stink of him and am marked by him. There is a solution to that problem.”

Alpin settled himself between her slim legs and gently nipped her chin. “And what would that be?”

“Ye could replace his scent with yours,” she replied softly as she stroked his long legs with her feet. “Ye could put your own mark upon me.”

“Such a clever lass. Ah, but it could take a wee bit of time and effort.”

“Oh, I do hope so,” she whispered against his mouth before kissing him.