Читать книгу His Immortal Embrace - Lynsay Sands - Страница 9

“Eric, wait!” Sophie ran the last few feet toward the man she had been hunting down and grabbed him by the arm. “If I didnae ken better, I would think ye are trying to avoid me.” She did not need Eric’s glance behind her to know Nella had caught up to her; she had heard the rattle of her maid’s many amulets. “I just wish to ask ye a few things, Sir Eric.”

“M’lady, ye have been here but a sennight and have spoken to near everyone within the keep, outside the keep, and probably for near a dozen miles around,” Eric said. “I cannae think that I can tell ye anything that ye dinnae already ken.”

“If I am to break the curse, I need all the knowledge about the MacCordy laird that I can gather. I am certain the grip of this curse can be broken if I can just find the right key. Morvyn failed, but she ne’er came to see exactly what the curse had done. That might be why she failed. So, I am gathering all the truth I can and recording it. The answer is in there, I am certain of it. I can feel it within my reach.”

Eric leaned against the side of the stables he had been trying to escape into when she had caught sight of him. “The lairds of the MacCordys grow to monhood watching their fathers change into some creature from a nightmare. They then become men and begin to change themselves.”

Sophie crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “That isnae verra helpful. How do they change? A lot of what I have been told is difficult to believe. I do ken that the laird cannae abide the sun.”

“Nay. The light of the sun fair blinds him. Alpin finds it increasingly painful as he ages. Three years ago he spent but an hour in the sun and it was as if he had been dropped into boiling water. If not for the heavy clothing he wore, I think he would have died. He hasnae ventured beyond the shadows since that day, except at night, or, if heavily cloaked, on sunless days.”

“And he needs blood.”

“Aye,” Eric snapped, then sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “That need grew slowly. He now eats naught but nearly raw meat, seared just enough to warm it, to make the juices flow. His usual drink is now an even mix of wine and blood.”

“Do ye ken if he felt the change immediately, or if it was a slow awareness?”

“Since this affliction has been visited upon every laird, ’twas expected, so I cannae say. The first hint comes when the heir becomes a mon and when next he becomes angry. The eyes change to those of a wolf and the teeth become sharper. After so many years we have learned to watch for the change, to guard against that first attack of anger. There were some tragedies in the early days ere we learned what to expect. Alpin was little trouble, for he, too, had studied the matter and was prepared.” Eric shook his head. “He has great strength, m’lady, and fights to control this affliction, but the change cannae be stopped.”

“What if one ceased to feed the need for blood?” she asked.

“Och, nay, ye dinnae wish to do that. ’Twas tried and the need grows to a near madness, endangering all who draw too near.”

“Restraint willnae work?”

“Nay, not e’en if one finds the means to hold him in a way he cannae break free of. The strength of these men can be terrifying to behold. So can their ability to persuade, to beguile, be beyond compare. E’en if ye find chains strong enough to bind them, they can eventually get some poor fool to set them free.”

Sophie stared down at her foot as she tapped it slowly against the hard-packed dirt of the bailey, her hands clasped behind her back. Most of what Eric told her matched what she had learned from others. He told her the truth without any gruesome elaborations or tales of the devil, however. The truth was not good. No normal restraints or cures had worked. It had been foolish to think the MacCordys had left any stone unturned in the course of over four hundred years. Rona’s curse refused to be denied its victims.

“None of the lairds lives to a great age, aye?” she asked, looking back at Eric.

“Sadly true. A few have killed themselves, a few died in battle, some are murdered by their own people.”

“But nay until they have bred an heir.”

“Aye, and after the son is born, the change often happens more quickly. The old laird, through sheer strength of will, held back the worst of the affliction for thirteen years, but I believe seeing the curse appear in Alpin broke his spirit. The verra next battle he fought, he died, and I think he planned to do so. In battle, the beast within the lairds bursts free in many ways. Their strength is that of many men, their ferocity unmatched, and their skill at laying waste to the enemy a source of legends. ’Tis why we are so often sought out by men who wish us to fight their battles for them.”

“Has there been a laird or two who was seduced by such power, began to welcome it?”

“Oh, aye, a few. But nay Alpin,” Eric said firmly, “if that is what ye think. Alpin has more strength of will than any mon I have e’er kenned or heard of. If any mon could beat this, he could, but there isnae any sign that he is winning that battle. Nay, at best he but slows the tightening of the grip of this affliction.”

“Then he doesnae grow worse as quickly as his father or grandfather?”

“Nay, but his father was married by now and had bred the heir. His grandfather, weel,” Eric shrugged. “He was verra bad from all that I hear. I dinnae ken if he was weak or one of those who reveled in the fear he could stir. He was killed by the villagers after he killed his wife. Tore her to pieces, ’tis said. Her and the lover he found her with.”

Sophie ignored Nella’s muttered prayers and nodded. “The rage. Catching one’s wife with another mon would certainly stir it up.” She suddenly smiled at Eric and rubbed her hands together. “I think I have a plan.” She briefly scowled at Nella, who groaned, then looked back at Eric, pretending she did not see the smile he quickly hid. “I shall immediately start doing all I can to help Sir Alpin fight this curse. I ken all manner of things to shield him, protect him, strengthen him. Rowan branches, rune stones, herbs,” she muttered, trying to recall all she had and to think of what more she might need.

“Er, m’lady—” Eric began.

Caught up in her thoughts, Sophie started toward the keep. “I dinnae suppose the laird would wear an amulet or two. Nay, he is being most uncooperative. He avoids me as if I am some toad-sucking demon waving a dead mon’s hand at him,” she mumbled to herself.

“Arenae ye going with her?” Eric asked Nella, who just stood there frowning after Sophie.

“She is muttering,” replied Nella. “ ’Tis sometimes best nay to hear what she is saying when she mutters. She only mutters when she is angry, and though she be a sweet, bighearted lass, when she is angry she can have a verra wicked tongue.”

“She willnae give up, will she?”

“Nay. She is a stubborn woman, and I think she is weighted with shame o’er what her ancestor did. Aye, and she was sorely grieved by what happened to her mother. M’lady will keep at this ’til she joins the angels.”

“Nella?” called Sophie, suddenly realizing she was alone.

“Coming, m’lady.” Nella hurried to Sophie’s side.

“Good. We must change and go to collect some rowan branches.”

“For what?”

“I intend to place as many as I can around this keep to try to weaken the power of the curse,” Sophie replied as she entered the keep and hurried up the stairs.

“The laird isnae going to like this,” Nella said quietly as she followed Sophie.

“Then we shallnae tell him.”

Alpin knew he should not go to the great hall even as he found himself walking toward it. Sophie would be there with her smiles, her undampened hope, and that innocent beauty that made him ache. Avoiding her did not work, for he found himself trying to catch glimpses of her like some besotted youth. She also had a true skill for appearing around every corner. It was time to stop hiding in his own keep, he mused, as he strode into the great hall and straight into something hard.

Cursing softly, Alpin was just wondering what fool had placed a stool upon a chair right inside the doorway when something soft landed on him. His body immediately recognized Sophie, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her to stop her fall. Despite his best efforts, however, he lost his balance. Knowing he could not stop his own fall, he turned so that he took the worst of it, sprawling on his back with the sweet-smelling, viciously cursing Sophie sprawled on top of him.

He quickly became almost painfully aware of how good she felt in his arms, her gentle curves fitting perfectly against him. The scent of her filled his head, a stirring mixture of woman, clean skin, and a hint of lavender. When she shifted slightly on top of him, he tightened his grasp, unwilling to let her go. He could hear her pulse quicken, sense a building heat within her, and was sharply disappointed to find that she, too, feared him. Then he took another deep breath and realized it was not fear but desire that was stirring within her. Alpin beat down the strong urge to toss her over his shoulder and run to his bedchamber. He met her wide-eyed gaze with a hard-won calm, idly noting that desire made her eyes appear more green than blue.

“Might I ask what ye were doing?” He glanced at the stool and the chair, then looked back at her.

“I was hanging a few rowan branches o’er the door,” she replied.

“Ye could find no one to help?”

“I didnae ask. I was trying to do it secretly. If I got someone to help me, then it wouldnae have remained a secret, would it?”

Alpin looked at the branches nailed over the door to the great hall, and sighed as he returned his gaze to her face. “Why?”

“For protection. Ye are fighting the curse,” she hurried on before he could protest, “and I decided to do what I can to help. I plan to surround ye with protection, shields against evil, and things to help strengthen your will to fight, or, at least, keep it strong.” She sighed. “I ken ye dinnae like such things so I thought to do it secretly.”

“So ye planned to lie to me.”

“Nay! I planned on telling ye nothing at all. Ye need such things to help ye hold firm whilst I search for a cure, but since I kenned ye would deny that or argue against my plans, I decided ’twas simplest to just boldly grasp the reins and charge ahead.”

“And ride right o’er me.”

“Weel,” she grimaced, then smiled at him, “more like ride beside ye.”

It was all nonsense, of course, Alpin mused. Rowan branches, magical stones, special herbs, and all such trickery could not save him. The earnest hope in her lovely eyes both attracted and annoyed him. He wanted to savor the sweetness of it and crush it with the cold, heartless truth. She was going to drive him mad long before his affliction accomplished the deed.

Then he found himself asking when had anyone at Nochdaidh last felt any hope at all? When had anyone worked so hard to try to help him? Never in his memory was the answer. Alpin did not share her hope, but her desire to help touched some deep need within him. He put his hand on the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her long, soft hair, and pulled her mouth down to his. The feel of her slender body, the scent of her, and even her foolish plots to help him shattered his resistance. He had to kiss her, had to steal a taste of her sweet innocence, of her precious if fruitless hopes, and of her desire.

Sophie tensed as he brushed his lips over hers. Heat flooded her body and she gasped. Alpin’s kiss grew fierce and demanding as he invaded her mouth with his tongue. Such a sudden assault should have frightened or angered her, but it did neither. It inflamed her. Each stroke of his tongue coaxed forth a deep, searing need. She did not need to feel the telltale hardening of his lean body to know he desired her. She could feel it in his kiss, could taste it upon his tongue. That desire fed her own. The passion flaring to life within her was so heady, so sweet, she had no will to fight it.

“’Tis a strange place ye have chosen for some wooing,” drawled a deep voice, “and nay verra private, either.”

The kiss ended so abruptly, Sophie felt lost and unsteady. Alpin gracefully stood up with her in his arms, and set her on her feet. She swayed a little, then, realizing Eric stood there, nervously tried to tidy her appearance. Not only was she severely disappointed that the kiss was over, but she suddenly wished she were alone. After experiencing something so stirring, so shattering to her peace of mind, she would like a little privacy to sort out her feelings and thoughts. It would be easy enough to leave, but she did not want anyone to think she was fleeing out of embarrassment or shame.

“Sophie fell and I caught her,” Alpin said, giving Eric a hard look that dared the man to argue.

Eric met that gaze for a moment, then shrugged and moved to pick up the stool and chair. “What are these doing here?”

“The stool was upon the chair and Lady Sophie was upon the stool. I walked into them.”

“Why would ye do something like that, m’lady?” Eric asked, only to have Alpin silently reply by pointing to a spot above the doors. “Oh, I see. Rowan branches.”

“Aye,” replied Sophie. “ ’Tis said they protect against witches.”

“’Tis about four hundred and thirty years too late for that,” murmured Alpin, and met Sophie’s cross look with one raised brow. “Do ye plan to do a lot of this?”

“In every place I can. I have a few other ideas as weel. I dinnae suppose I can convince ye to wear an amulet or two, can I?”

“So I might rattle about the place like Nella? Nay, I think not.” He looked up at the rowan tree branches. “I must resign myself to the constant sight of dying greenery, must I? I think this might count as sorcery.”

“I consider it healing.” Seeing the look of amused disbelief in his eyes, Sophie decided it was time to retreat. “I shall just go and clean up,” she murmured as she hurried out the door.

Alpin was surprised when Nella glared at him before following Sophie. He shook his head and looked at Eric, only to find that man eyeing him with an uncomfortable intensity. Kissing Sophie had been an error in judgment. He had succumbed to a weakness, and, he mused, being caught at it was probably a just punishment.

“What ye saw was a moment of utter madness,” Alpin said before Eric could speak.

“Are ye certain that was all it was?” asked Eric.

“Aye, and that is all it ever can be. A woman like Lady Sophie Hay can ne’er be for me. She is all hope, sweetness, and smiles.”

“With a hearty serving of tartness, stubbornness, and passion.”

“Aye. A perfect mixture,” Alpin murmured and shook his head. “Sophie needs laughter, sun, and love. She cannae find any of that with me. Although I am drawn to her, the first woman to show no fear, to offer help, I must turn from her. When she realizes nothing she does will help, she will lose that innocent faith that is so alluring. If I try to hold her, she will see me become the creature my forefathers did. ’Tis cowardly, mayhap, but I find I cannae stomach the thought of watching her begin to fear me, revile me, to watch me become more beast than mon.”

“But she might be able to help you,” protested Eric.

“Nay, I doubt that verra much,” said Alpin as he picked up the chair and took it back to the table. “I dinnae doubt for one moment, however, that I will destroy her. If I try to hold her, I will simply smother all that sweet light with my own darkness. I am not yet beast enough to commit that sin.”

“Nella, I need some time alone,” Sophie said, halting her maid when the woman tried to follow her into the bedchamber they shared.

“But, m’lady,” Nella began to protest.

“I need to think, Nella. Just give me a wee while alone, then come help me ready myself to dine in the great hall.”

“Because the laird hurled ye to the floor and tried to ravish ye?”

“Actually, Nella, I fell, knocked him to the ground, and he kissed me. That is all. Now, go. Please. I will be fine.”

The moment Nella left, Sophie hurled herself facedown on the bed. She knew she had been attracted to the laird from the first moment she had set eyes on the man. Now, with one kiss, he had shown her that what she felt was far more than an interest in a mysterious, troubled, handsome man. She loved him. She loved a man who could not abide the sun, drank blood, ate raw meat, and could tear his enemies apart with his bare hands. Sophie doubted she could have handpicked a man more certain to ensure that she continued to walk the sad path trod by far too many Galt women before her.