by Lydia Dare
He pulled, and, from its safe haven between her breasts, he tugged free his ring. His very own ring. The witch had it all along. And hadn’t even told him.
“Damn it all to hell, Blaire,” he growled, before he yanked it from her neck with a hard tug.
She sputtered and reached for the cord. “I was goin’ ta ask ye—”
But whatever she meant to say died on her lips the moment Captain Lindsay called from the corridor, “What are ye doin’ in here? MacQuarrie is tellin’ some stories of heroics ye willna want ta miss.”
Nineteen
Blaire could only stare at James. His black eyes darkened with fury as he pulled the ring from her cord and shoved her heirloom onto his finger.
“Miss Lindsay was just on her way,” James growled, his scathing look barely touching her.
Why did he have to find her mother’s blasted ring? She had every intention of showing it to him, asking if it was the one he sought. Clearly it was, or he thought it was. And after the morning spent in abject misery, Blaire had no intention of spending the rest of the day the same way.
She glanced at Aiden and smiled tightly. “Will ye remember the details and tell me later? I’m havin’ a conversation with Lord Kettering.”
Aiden’s eyes shot to James and then back to Blaire, suspicion clouding his expression.
Blaire frowned at the dolt. “Do ye remember the talk we had, Aiden, on the way ta Strathcarron? The talk about Lord Kettering?”
She ignored the grumble from James’ side of the room and watched realization dawn on her brother’s face. Blaire raised her brow meaningfully. How many hints did Aiden need?
“That conversation?”
“Aye,” she ground out. “Now can ye give us a few moments alone?”
“Uh.” Aiden backed up. “Of course. Take yer time.” Then he turned on his heel and quickly disappeared.
“What was that about?” James growled.
Warmth crept up Blaire’s cheeks. She was not about to tell James about that silly conversation with Aiden. She shook her head. “Nothin’, I just needed ta get rid of him.”
The two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old vampyre scoffed. “Do you think I’m that inept? That you can bat those pretty grey eyes at me and I’ll forget that you kept my ring from me? That you and,” he gestured dismissively toward the doorway, “Captain Lindsay have been having mysterious conversations about me?”
Pretty grey eyes? Blaire would like to bask in the compliment, but he was still glaring at her. “It wasna like that.”
“Oh, wasn’t it? You and Captain Lindsay haven’t been discussing what to do with the vampyre under your roof? You haven’t been discussing how to finish the job your mother started by locking me in this godforsaken place to begin with?” He paced the floor, not even bothering to look at her. “You haven’t been discussing what a fool you’ve made of me? You haven’t been—”
“No!” she yelled. “That’s no’ it at all.”
James stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes menacingly. “Then what is it?”
She had never felt so mortified in her life. “I told him I thought I could brin’ ye up ta scratch.” It came out as a whisper, and she couldn’t look him in the eyes.
In a flash he stood before her. “What did you say?”
Was he going to make her repeat it? Not in this lifetime. Blaire shook her head. “He wanted ta throw ye out, and I had ta find a way ta stop him. It was the only thing I could think of.”
With the crook of his finger, James tipped her chin back until she met his eyes. “Are you saying your brother would grant his blessing to a vampyre?”
Could she be more mortified? “Aiden doesna ken ye’re a vampyre. And if he believed me, I’m sure he couldna care less.”
A strange look crossed James’ face, and Blaire had no idea how to interpret his expression. “You think it wouldn’t matter to your brother if you…married a vampyre? Does he care so little for your safety?”
“That’s no’ it.” Blaire shook free of his grasp and stepped away from James. He was too close, and the questions he was asking were too humiliating.
“Then tell me,” he urged from behind her.
Blaire simply shook her head.
“Answer me, Blaire.”
She didn’t have to answer his questions. She started for the door, but before she reached it, he was standing before her. Blaire glared at him. “Ye’re in my way.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you answer me.”
How dare he behave like a brute? “I doona owe ye anythin’, Kettering. Now, get out of my way.”
He shook his head, and his dark eyes softened. “Tell me that dolt doesn’t think you can’t find a proper husband.”
Pity. That was the look she read in his expression, and it infuriated her. No matter he was right in his estimation. She wouldn’t be pitied by anyone. “Get out of my way, Kettering, or I’ll knock ye on yer obnoxious vampyre arse.”
He tossed back his head and laughed.
What he had to laugh about completely escaped Blaire, and she brushed past the arrogant Sassenach, ready to escape to the safety of her bedchamber.
But he snatched her waist in his hands and tugged her to him. “In all my years, you are the most delightful creature I’ve ever encountered.”
That couldn’t possibly be true.
“You must have droves of men lining up to court you. I’ve wanted to tear MacQuarrie’s head off ever since he arrived just for looking in your direction.”
Baron Kettering had most definitely lost whatever sense he’d previously possessed. “There’s no need ta mock me. I’ve kent Alec MacQuarrie my whole life, and he’s only ever looked at Caitrin. So ye can save yer pity.”
The man smirked in response. “Pity? Do you think I pity you?”
She shrugged.
“If I pity anyone, Blaire, it’s me. I should be furious with you, and part of me still is, but the rest of me…” He scratched his jaw. “Well, the rest of me wants things that are impossible. I wish I breathed the same air as you. I wish I could ask Captain Lindsay for his blessing to court you. I wish…”
Did he really want those things? “What do ye wish?” she couldn’t help but ask. Please tell me what’s in your heart.
“I wish,” James winced, “that I understood what is happening to me. No matter that I should throttle you for lying to me and keeping my ring from me, all I want is to console you and kiss you and taste every inch of you and never let you leave my sight.”
All the air whooshed out of Blaire. She didn’t know what to say. “Oh.”
A self-deprecating smile lit his face. “Are you pitying me?”
“Do ye really mean all those things?” She took a slight step backward.
He inclined his head once. “Fool that I am.”
Blaire glanced down at the ring that now graced his finger. “Is it really yers?”
“Are you saying you didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “Mama said it was passed from one generation ta the next. That I should never remove it. That it could someday save my life.”
“Save your life by keeping me dormant,” James muttered, but she heard it just the same.
“I beg yer pardon?”
James frowned. “They said something that night.”
“The coven?”
“Yes. I asked them why they’d surrounded me, and the blond one said something about my future victims.”
“Future victims?” What had Fiona Macleod seen all those years ago? Had she seen this? The future connection between herself and James? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Fiona had tried to keep an outsider from entering their circle.
“But I would never hurt you, Blaire.”
And she didn’t doubt the sincerity of the vampyre before her. Perhaps he wasn’t the only fool in the room. “I ken.”
“The same cannot be said of Sarah Reese and Padrig Trevelyan. Instead of bickering amongst ourselves, we should be
mapping out our battle plan.”
Battle plan! For the first time that day, Blaire felt useful. “What a wonderful idea. Tell me, James, how does one kill a vampyre?”
***
If anyone had ever told James he’d even consider teaching a pretty little witch how to kill one of his own kind, he’d have sent for a padded coach to take the idiot straight to Bedlam. How things had changed. He was doing more than considering it now. The knowledge could very possibly save Blaire’s life. In fact, he’d wager his immortal soul, if he had one, that she’d need this knowledge in the very near future.
“There are a few ways, actually,” he said slowly, watching the rapt attention on her face as she narrowed her eyes and regarded him with all seriousness.
Her delicate brows lifted playfully when he hesitated. “Do ye plan ta share them with me? Or do ye simply want me ta guess?” Her cheeky grin nearly undid him. He wanted to take her in his arms and find out all the places where she was most ticklish, instead of teaching her the art of war against his own kind.
“If you will be quiet for a moment, I’d be happy to tell you,” he said as he drew her down on the settee beside him. “There are several things you need to know about vampyres.” He took her hand and placed it flat upon his chest. The warmth of her seeped through his shirt. He forced himself to concentrate. “We do not have hearts.”
“I doona believe that, James,” she sighed at him, her fingers curling in to stroke his chest lightly. He felt that touch all the way to his toes. “Ye have a heart. I’m certain of it.”
“If I did, I would give it to you,” he blurted.
Blaire’s cheeks pinkened. But she smiled. God, she had the most beautiful smile.
James cleared his throat. “I-I mean, we do have hearts, but they no longer beat, Blaire. Now stop distracting me.”
“I havena done a thing,” she protested, blinking her grey eyes at him coquettishly.
He swiped a hand across his mouth in an attempt to fight back his incisors, which threatened to descend at her very nearness. “That’s about as likely as your brother giving me leave to court you properly,” he chuckled. “You’re a minx, and you know it.”
“Do ye plan ta insult me all night? Or teach me how ta kill a vampyre? On with it, already,” she prompted.
James smirked at her eagerness. How many women would be enthralled to learn the art of war against the undead? None he’d ever met. No, Blaire Lindsay was one of a kind. He could stay sitting there all evening, simply to bask in her presence. But that wouldn’t help her learn how to defend herself. “We do not have beating hearts,” he repeated, to bring his mind back to the task at hand. “So, you cannot kill us by stopping our hearts. Mine stopped beating a very, very long time ago.”
She nodded as though she understood.
“We can also heal ourselves, unless the wound is grave.”
Blaire scrunched up her pert little nose. “What do ye mean by that? Would I have ta chop off an appendage to have any effect at all on yer person?”
James squirmed in his chair. He didn’t like the very idea of his appendages being handled in such a manner. There were much better ideas for what she could do with them.
“James?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. The lass could take his attention unlike anyone ever had.
“The head,” he finally said. “You’d have to chop off our head.”
The color leached from her face as she whispered, “Bloody hell.”
“No, a vampyre won’t bleed much,” he teased.
“That is no’ humorous.” She elbowed him in the stomach.
He grunted and bent forward to rub the offended area.
“Anythin’ else?” She leaned closer to him on the settee, her grey eyes sparkling with interest.
If James kept staring at her, he’d never complete this lesson. “Uh, yes.”
“I’m waitin’, James.”
What was he supposed to be telling her?
“What else will kill a vampyre?”
James rose from his spot and tried to shake himself from the enchanting spell she was weaving around him. “A wooden stake to the heart.” Then he frowned. He was supposed to be teaching her how to protect herself, not how to get herself killed. “But stakes are dangerous, because most vampyres could take one from you and then use it to kill you before you’d even realize the danger.”
“They could take it from me?” She grinned, laying her delicate little hand on her chest.
She still didn’t realize who and what they were dealing with. “I took you down a moment ago,” he reminded her. “I fear they could do the same.”
Her grin widened and she rose to her feet, closing the distance between them. “Obviously, ye and I are rememberin’ the events of the past few moments differently.”
“I remember having you on top of me,” he chuckled, knowing he shouldn’t encourage her but was helpless to do otherwise. “But my memory of the rest of the encounter now evades me for some reason.”
Blaire brushed hair from his forehead with the tips of her fingers, her mouth so close to him that he could smell the sweet scent of her breath. Her brows pushed together with worry. “When was the last time ye fed, James? Ye look a bit pale.”
He shrugged. “When I was with you.” A fiery blush crept up her cheeks, making him want to toss his head back and laugh at her nervousness. Such an innocent. She could eagerly learn the art of destroying those of his kind, but a simple reminder of what they’d done together had her flustered and speechless. He caught her gaze and held it, and then he slowly leaned forward. “When I pierced your flesh and drank you in,” he whispered beside her ear.
She shivered delicately. She remembered their shared passion just as fondly as he, he’d wager. A cuff to his shoulder was her response, just before she tucked her head into his chest to hide her face.
He tipped her face up with a crooked finger under her chin. “Suddenly shy?” he teased.
“Mortified,” she said quietly as she laid her cheek against his chest and snuggled closer, her arms wrapping around his waist. He could keep her here forever and a day.
“Yet you want to do it again?” he asked softly, waiting for her reaction. She stiffened slightly in his arms but then nodded against his chest and exhaled loudly.
She leaned back to look into his face. “How often do ye need ta feed? We’ve never discussed the details.”
“It depends,” he admitted.
“On?”
“On what pursuits we’re engaged in. If we’re not taxed, we don’t use up what we’ve taken in quite as quickly. I have been fairly lazy of late. Though the sun exposure didn’t help.”
“That’s why ye’re pale?” she asked, her silver eyes clouded with worry, suddenly.
“Yes.” He’d go and find an animal if he had to, though he’d love to sink his teeth into the delectable Blaire Lindsay again. He’d already had her to protect her, to remove the lure that was her innocence in Sarah and Trevelyan’s eyes. But a second time? He wasn’t certain she’d be amenable to being his dinner again, even if he brought her bliss during the course of the event. He felt like the worst sort of cad for even thinking of it.
She shoved her hair from her shoulder and tipped her neck to the side. “Ye can take from me. Take whatever ye need.”
He touched his lips softly to the area. A tremor ran through her body. “I’d like nothing more. But not here. And you’re not required to offer yourself up for my meals, you know. There are other sources.”
“Other women?” she asked as she drew back from him.
Other women? That’s what she was worried about? What a strange creature she was. So strong, yet still subject to the most basic of emotions like jealousy. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I would not go to another lass, Blaire.”
“Ye wouldna?”
He shook his head.
She folded her arms across her chest as though she didn’t quite believe him. Honestly, he didn’t quite believe it himself.
But ever since she woke him, he had no desire to meet other women, let alone enjoy their life’s blood.
“Before I met you,” he explained, “I probably would have enchanted some willing lass who wouldn’t remember the act the next day. But not now. Not now that I’ve met you.” He tugged her back to him, suddenly feeling the loss of her. “And tasted you,” he added lastly. The blush crept back up her cheeks. “You’re all I can think about.”
“If I wasn’t here, what would ye do?”
He’d probably starve. “Sheep. Cattle. There are a lot of choices.”
“And those are as good as me?”
He chuckled. “Nothing tastes as sweet as you do, Blaire.” And nothing ever had.
“Then ye’ll need ta come ta me later,” she said quietly.
A clatter arose in the hallway as Matthew called out, “I say, Kettering, are you still there with Miss Lindsay?” Thank God for Matthew’s warning.
“I’ll come to you later tonight, if it’s what you want,” he whispered quickly to Blaire.
“Please,” she replied, then sprang away from him.
“I was extolling your celestial knowledge to young Master Brannock.” Matthew entered the great hall with MacQuarrie and Blaire’s brothers trailing behind him. “He’d very much like for you to point out Orion’s two hunting dogs, James.”
That didn’t seem like the best idea with two rogue vampyres on the loose. James stepped to the window and peered out. Darkness had just fallen. “It appears a bit cloudy.” He shot Matthew a look.
“They’re not nearby,” Matthew said so quietly that only James could hear it. “I’d sense Sarah if they were.”
“Nonsense!” Alec MacQuarrie announced as he peered out a different window. “All looks clear to me.”
Though they were looking for different things, weren’t they?
James glanced again at his maker, looking for reassurance and Matthew nodded. “Miss Lindsay doesn’t seem the sort who will want to spend her days hiding, James.” The earl’s voice only reached his ears.
The man did have a point. He couldn’t let Sarah and Trevelyan dictate his every move for the rest of eternity. James smiled at Brannock Lindsay. “Orion’s hunting dogs? Did you know they are forever chasing a rabbit across the night sky?”