by Lydia Dare
A moment later, he spotted her, traipsing up the hill wrapped in a tattered coat, the Lindsay plaid draped across her shoulders. Blaire’s mouth fell open when her eyes landed on him, and the two young women flanking her on either side gasped.
“Ja—Lord Kettering,” Blaire finally found her voice, though she still didn’t move an inch toward him. “What are ye doin’ here?”
“That’s Lord Kettering?” the delicate brunette beside her mumbled before James could respond. “I canna believe ye left him. Are ye mad?”
“Shush, Sorcha,” the other woman hissed.
Blaire glanced over her shoulder at the tiny brunette and frowned. “Can ye behave?”
Sorcha, at least James assumed that was her name, shrugged. A little smile tilted up her lips on one side, and her warm brown eyes twinkled when they fell on him. “Did they lock ye up, my lord, ta keep ye from breakin’ hearts?”
She certainly was a saucy little thing. James almost laughed, but he kept his eyes on Blaire and lifted his brow. “You told them who I am? What happened to me?” Not that he was surprised. How many times had she told him she trusted her coven above all else, including him?
Blaire gulped under his gaze. “They had a right ta ken. Their mothers were involved as well.”
James looked at the three Scottish lasses before him. Memories of the revenge he’d once wanted to take on their mothers for trapping him in that crumbling castle and keeping him locked away from the rest of the world flashed in his mind. All of it meant nothing now. If that coven long ago hadn’t captured him, he might never have crossed Blaire’s path. He might never have fallen for her. He might never have become human again. No, not revenge. He owed that coven and their daughters his life and so much more. “It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies.” And he truly meant it.
The brunette sighed, and a dreamy expression settled on her face.
Blaire narrowed her eyes on James. “I asked ye no’ ta come here.”
“You did,” he agreed, and then he closed the distance between them, dropped the valise at his feet, and grasped her hand in his. “But you also agreed to be my wife, and in my way of thinking, there’s nowhere else I should be other than by your side.”
Blaire’s lip trembled, and James had the urge to kiss her right then and there with her friends looking on—and damn the consequences. “I told ye I couldna marry ye.”
The brunette gasped behind them, as though the idea was an affront to her personally.
Blaire glanced over her shoulder and met the willowy witch’s eye. “Rhi, can ye do somethin’ with her?”
The woman draped her arm around the brunette’s shoulder and began to drag her from the scene. “But she dinna tell us that part of the story, Rhi,” the little one grumbled as they disappeared around a bend. “And I’m thinkin’ that was the most important part!”
“I’d have to agree with your exuberant little friend.” James couldn’t help but smile at the comments the littlest witch threw over her shoulder.
“She’s a pest.”
“I should be furious with you for leaving me the way you did.”
Blaire shook her head. “There was no other way. Yer as stubborn—”
“—As you are, my love. And you’re right, I would never have let you leave.”
“I had ta protect my brothers, James. I doona expect ye ta understand.”
He sighed. “You are your own worst enemy, Blaire. Do you know that?”
She frowned and folded her arms across her chest. “I most certainly am no’.”
“Oh, you are.” He nodded his head to emphasize his point. “You ran off without thinking the situation through.”
“I thought it through!” She insisted and jabbed him in the chest with a pointy finger.
He couldn’t help but chuckle, even though the situation was far from humorous. He was just so happy to have found her. Relieved. So ecstatic he could float to the heavens. Still they had a little business to see to first. “Did you indeed? Do you recall me telling you that Trevelyan would hurt you just to get his revenge on me?”
“Only because he thought you cared for me.”
“I do care for you.”
“Out of sight, out of mind.”
That was on the edge of enough. Did she have so little faith in his feelings? “Give me your hand.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Give. Me. Your. Hand,” he clipped out.
She thrust her hand behind her back. “What do ye want with it?”
“Blaire,” James sighed as he pulled her hand from behind her, peeled the glove from her wrist, and then freed each slender finger. “Beautiful,” he muttered, squeezing her hand before sliding it inside his overcoat, jacket, and waistcoat. He held it against the fine lawn of his shirt and pressed it against his chest. “There. Do you feel that?”
She glared at him as though he was the most inept man in existence. “What exactly am I supposed to be—” She gasped and ripped her hand from his grasp, as though she’d touched a hot stove.
James grinned. She’d felt it. He knew she had. “Out of sight, out of mind, huh?”
“Is that yer…heart?” The words seemed wrenched from her soul.
“It took you leaving to make it beat again, Blaire. One must have a heart for it to break. Evidently, mine was there all along, just waiting for you.”
***
Blaire choked on a sob. She’d been trying so hard for so long not to cry, and yet she couldn’t help the flood of tears that now streamed down her cheeks.
“Oh, my love,” James crooned and dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief. “I’ve never seen you so upset.”
But none of it made any sense at all. “I doona understand.”
“I’m not sure I understand any better than you do. I woke up alone,” he glanced at the valise at his feet, “or nearly. Then I read your note, which crushed my heart by the way, and raced here as fast as I could. I’m slightly impaired without my speed and strength, so I had to travel by carriage. You haven’t seen Trevelyan, have you?”
Blaire’s mind was still reeling with all that he was saying. “What does that mean? How is it that yer heart is beatin’?”
James took a step away from her and tugged the crested ring from his finger.
Her heart leapt to her throat. “No!” Was he mad? He’d be burned alive. He was…laughing at her. She couldn’t believe it. He was laughing at her.
James tossed the ring high in the air and then caught it. “I don’t need it any longer, love. My heart now beats. I’m as human as the next man.” He grinned. “Well, I’m a little faster than the next man. And stronger. But that’s probably just my body’s response to being so strong for so long. It adapted.” He shrugged. “Some traits haven’t left me all together.”
It was so much to take in. Blaire could only blink at him. “How?”
“Not, ‘how.’ Who.” He stressed the last word. “You, Blaire. You did this to me. And I can never thank you enough.”
Thank her? She shook her head. She’d never wanted his thanks. It was her mother’s fault he’d been locked away all those years ago. Her fault his life had been stolen from him.
“What is it?” He grasped her elbow and tugged her toward him. “Don’t tell me now that I’m human you don’t love me anymore.”
A gurgled laugh escaped her throat, which was mildly embarrassing. “I-I doona ken what ta say.”
“Say you’ll have me, Blaire.”
A horrible grumbling growl came from the valise at their feet, and Blaire took a startled step backward. “What the devil is that?”
James smirked. “You left Briarcraig in such a hurry that poor Bruce got left behind.”
Blaire’s eyes fell once more to the bag. “Ye brought that miserable creature with ye? I’d thought we were well rid of it.”
“Oh, come now,” James took her hand in his. “He’s not that bad. And I know how much Brannock adores the thing.”
James would be her b
rother’s hero from now until the end of time. “Was that yer plan? Butter Brannock up and have him plead yer case?”
He laughed, and the rich sound encompassed Blaire’s heart. He seemed so different now. Much more at ease. More lighthearted. Blaire blinked up at him. It wasn’t just her imagination. He was different. “Your eyes,” she whispered.
The smile fell from his face. “What about them?”
She shook her head, not truly believing it herself. “They’re blue.”
“They are?” He appeared as amazed by that fact as she was.
Blaire took a step away from him. She needed time to think, time to clear her head. “I canna do this right now.”
“Do what?”
She gestured wildly between the two of them. “This. Us.”
“Blaire.” He reached for her, but she stepped further away.
“Just a little time, James.”
He frowned at her. “Trevelyan is out there, Blaire.”
She glanced up at the sky and the sun beaming down on them. “Perhaps, but I’ll be safe enough until sundown.”
“Very well.” He sighed. “But don’t take too long.”
Twenty-Four
James’ heart clenched as Blaire escaped down a side path. Time. She needed time. For what? He thought she loved him, though now he wasn’t sure if she ever said those words. Was she regretting what they’d been to each other at Briarcraig? Did she no longer want him now that he was more than a heartless vampyre?
He heaved a sigh.
It would be God’s cruel punishment to give him his heart back after nearly two hundred and twenty-five years only to have the woman he loved toss it back at him when he offered it to her.
“Ye can stop now, Rhi.” An irritated whisper reached his ears. “She’s gone.”
James turned toward the sound to see Blaire’s bubbly, brunette coven sister poking her head out from behind a tree. “Were you listening the entire time?” he asked.
She didn’t even have the good grace to look ashamed. Instead she huffed indignantly. “Nay,” she grumbled as she walked slowly up the path toward him. “Rhiannon whipped the air around me so loudly I couldna hear a thing.”
As if on cue, the willowy witch followed her friend from behind the shrubbery and sighed. “Had the roles been reversed, ye wouldna want anyone listenin’ ta yer conversation.”
The brunette rolled her eyes. “Ha! I wouldna hold out on any of ye in the first place.”
Though James’ heart still ached, the youngest witch did make him smile. It would be impossible to dislike the lass.
“Anyway,” she said, finally reaching him, “we were no’ properly introduced. I’m Sorcha Ferguson, and that’s,” she gestured with her head, “Rhiannon Sinclair.”
James inclined his head in greeting. “James Maitland, Baron Kettering.”
“I ken.” Sorcha Ferguson beamed at him. “And I’m so happy ta make yer acquaintance.”
“Are you?” If Blaire’s friends were honestly happy to meet him, perhaps all wasn’t lost. She must have said good things about him, at the very least.
“Oh, aye!” Sorcha nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve never met a vampyre before.”
Was that all it was? Did all of these witches prefer the undead to live, breathing men? Would Sorcha turn tail and flee him, too, if she knew that truth, that he was now just a man? “I’m really not that special.”
But she shook her head as though that was nonsense. “Vampyres are new for me. I’ve learned all about Lycans from Lord Benjamin, but—”
“Sorcha!” the other witch hissed just as a quick breeze blasted across the youngest one’s brown hair.
With an exasperated sigh, Sorcha turned to her sister witch and smoothed her hair back in place. “That was uncalled for, Rhi. Do ye ken how long Maggie worked on my curls today?”
“Some secrets are no’ ours ta divulge,” Rhiannon Sinclair countered.
Sorcha snorted. “Now yer concerned about Lord Benjamin? When he first came here, I was the only one nice ta him.”
“Well, I doona think he’d appreciate ye tellin’ some strange vampyre ye doona even ken all of his secrets.”
Sorcha turned her gaze back to James. “But yer no’ some strange vampyre, are ye? Did ye really ask Blaire ta marry ye?”
He nodded once.
“See?” Sorcha tossed back over her shoulder. “He’s as good as family.”
James took his first relieved breath in quite a while. Sorcha Ferguson might be more chatty than was wise, but she was the closest thing to an ally he had in these parts. He glanced down at the growling valise at his feet. “Would you mind directing my driver to the Lindsay household? I have something that desperately needs to be returned to young Master Brannock.”
***
The sun was just starting to set as Blaire stepped through the front door of Lindsay House. She crossed the threshold into the parlor and groaned aloud. There, sitting in her threadbare straight-backed chair, James Maitland appeared to be the center of attention. Crowded around him was…everyone else.
In the settee beside Elspeth, Sorcha prattled endlessly about something inane. Lord Benjamin leaned casually against the window frame, nursing a glass of whisky. Brannock sat on the floor in the corner playing with that dratted cat and a ball of string. And Rhiannon paced anxiously at the far end of the room, leaving a slight breeze in her wake.
Truly, she shouldn’t have been surprised at any of this. Sorcha must have gone back in search of James atop Arthur’s Seat as soon as she’d realized Blaire was gone. But what else was she to do? She’d just been so surprised to see him that her confused emotions bubbled over; she had needed a little time to catch her breath, to sort out her thoughts. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone met a vampyre and allowed him to take her blood, then her innocence, then her heart, perhaps not in that order. She’d nearly resigned herself to missing him the rest of her life, convinced herself it was better to live alone than with him but without his love. And then…then he turned up out of nowhere and said he was human. A little time to clear her head was not too much to ask.
James caught sight of her in the doorway and quickly came to his feet with a smile.
A gentle burst of wind brushed her cheek. Yes, Rhiannon. She was fine. No need to worry. Yet the weather-controlling witch couldn’t help but be led by her emotions. It was part of who she was. Evidently, it was part of who Blaire was, too. Emotions. She snorted indelicately. Who’d have ever thought she had any?
Sorcha turned to look in her direction when she heard that unladylike snuffle from her nose. “Oh, there ye are,” she gushed as she leaned forward, placed her tea on the table, and then jumped to her feet. She slid one slender hand into the crook of James’ arm, and he smiled down at her. “Look who we found on his way down from the Seat.”
“Ye found Lord Kettering?” Blaire asked, well aware the meddlesome wood sprite would never allow an unattached man to go about aimlessly. Particularly not one as handsome as James Maitland.
“Aye, he was lookin’ for yer house.” Sorcha beamed. “But we rescued him.”
“I’m certain he appreciated yer assistance,” Blaire said drolly. Although she’d walked about for more than two hours trying to slow the roiling thoughts within her mind, she now found that she was just as discombobulated as she had been when she’d first spied James that afternoon. And his powder-blue eyes.
“I was quite grateful,” James said as he walked toward Blaire. Sorcha dropped his arm when she sensed his direction, a satisfied smirk on her face.
“Why are ye here?” Blaire asked directly.
James’ back straightened a bit. “Returning Brannock’s pet and to talk with the captain, of course.”
“Where is Aiden?” She glanced around the room. If James had confessed all they’d been to each other to her brother, Aiden would be here awaiting her return, ready to thrash her. Strange that he was the only one absent in this unlikely gathering.
“
He went ta see Mr. MacDonald,” Brannock reminded her without looking up from the scraggily cat.
To discuss his new fortune and get the man’s opinion on sound investments. How could she forget? “Well, ye’d best leave before he returns.”
James narrowed his light blue eyes on her. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the color. “I’m not leaving, Blaire. Trevelyan is out there somewhere. Besides, Captain Lindsay and I need to come to an understanding.”
Arrogant as ever. Unlike his eye color, that certainly hadn’t changed. “Well, then I hope ye enjoy yer discussion with Aiden whenever he returns,” she said with a slow nod. “For now, I’m goin’ up ta bed.”
“Blaire!” Sorcha gasped. Rhiannon’s wind grazed her cheek once more. Opposite ends of the spectrum, those witches were. If she wasn’t so confused, it might be hysterical.
“Sleep well, love,” James said quietly, his voice rumbling across her skin like a caress. She suppressed a shiver. Yet she forced herself not to look back in his direction. “I’ll still be here in the morning,” he added just before she passed out of sight.
“Ye doona plan ta leave?” she asked. She sounded like a dolt, she knew. But it was torturous having him around yet not being able to touch him, to love him.
“Not with Trevelyan out there.”
“Perhaps ye’ve forgotten I can take care of myself.”
A seductive smile graced his lips. “Then perhaps I’ll need you to protect me from his wrath.”
Blaire rolled her eyes. He could charm stars right out of the night sky. No wonder Sorcha looked so mesmerized.
“Besides,” he continued, gazing directly at her, his intent unmistakable, “I do need to have that word with your brother.” He meant to offer for her hand. She was certain of it. What would she do if Aiden said yes? She’d most likely jump for joy. Then she’d hate herself afterward.
She turned back toward the staircase and didn’t stop until she reached her room; then she stomped across the room and flung herself onto the bed. She wanted to curl into a ball and die. No, she wanted to curl at James’ side and tell him she loved him. But what she most wanted was to hear him tell her the same thing.