by Lydia Dare
“Ye’re leavin’?” She jumped to her feet and spun to face him. “But ye said ye were stayin’ here.”
He shrugged, nearly feigning nonchalance. But she knew him too well. “I have some errands. And I doubt your brother would want me traipsing back in at some ungodly hour. But don’t worry. I’ll be close by.”
He was definitely up to something. “What kind of errands can ye have this time of the night in Edinburgh?” Let him try to lie to her. That would be fantastic.
“The kind that involve catching rogue vampyres.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her. He shushed her? How dare he? James continued, “It does not involve meddlesome witches, however. So, I expect you to stay here and protect your brothers, just in case Trevelyan gets past me.”
Oh, he thought he would fool her with the protect your brothers idea. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, ye doona honestly believe I’ll fall for that, do ye?”
He walked close, until he stood one step before her, one hand cupping her cheek lightly. “I expect you to stay here.”
She said in a sing-song voice, “Ye never could enchant me, James Maitland. And ye certainly canna now. No’ since ye’re very nearly human, or whatever ye are.”
His eyes narrowed at her. “I wasn’t trying to enchant you. I’m telling you what I expect.” His voice was firm and…annoying as the devil. “I need you to trust that I can take care of you.”
“Ye?”
He took a step back from her, obviously irritated. “Yes, me. I’m going to be your husband after all.”
Perhaps or perhaps not. That hadn’t truly been settled, but it was beside the point at the moment. “And have ye forgotten that ye’re human, James? Ye can die, ye fool!”
He tilted his head at her. “And that would bother you, Blaire?”
She stuttered out, “O-o-of course, it would.” She’d never get over such an occurrence.
“Why?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
There was no point in denying it. He knew it anyway. “Because I love ye, ye arrogant Englishman,” she ground out after a moment of indecision.
“I love you, too,” he said softly, his lips turned up in a small grin, before he quit the room.
***
James stepped out into the chilly night and searched the darkness for signs of Trevelyan. He was there. James was certain of it. He was in Edinburgh, and he was bent on revenge. James had nearly told Blaire what Trevelyan was about, and that it was all James’ fault, but he’d rather not have to explain such things. If he could track down his old foe and dispense with the villain, they could put all of this behind them and start fresh.
His boots crunched along the cobblestone path as he walked away from Lindsay House. But he spun quickly when he heard a noise rattle the bushes by his side. “Who’s there?” he asked.
“You can relax, Kettering. It’s just me.” Benjamin Westfield stepped out into the moonlight, his dark hair hanging over his brow. He brushed it back with an impatient hand. “I wanted to have a word with you.”
James wanted to roll his eyes, but he forced himself to stand still for Westfield’s set-down. He tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice when he said, “I’m well aware that I’ll have to deal with Captain Lindsay simply because I am in love with his sister. Do I have to take on the entire Lycan race, as well?”
“Lycan race?” Westfield chuckled. “I think the proper term is human race, Kettering. With some eccentricities.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Eccentricities aside, you and I have something in common. And because of that commonality, I want to give you some advice.” Westfield waited patiently for his response.
“You’re a werewolf—,” James began, but the other man cut him off.
“Lycan, actually. Werewolf’s a derogatory term.” Westfield nodded once, indicating that he should continue. “But go ahead.”
“Wait.” James couldn’t let that one pass him by. “It’s a derogatory term? An insult? Truly?”
“It’s a bit like Aiden Lindsay calling you a blood-sucker. I’m sure you didn’t appreciate the reference.”
“If the shoe fits.” James shrugged. He’d always been able to slip in and out of polite society. Yet, if he truly thought about it, the blood-sucker reference was a bit offensive. “But I see your point,” he finally grunted out.
“Back to the human race,” Westfield said, a knowing smile tipping the corners of his lips. “I love my wife.”
James appraised the moon’s height in the sky. “Westfield, I hate to seem impatient, but I have somewhere to be.”
“Exactly why I need to talk with you.” Westfield blew in frustration. “You mean you have someone to hunt.”
“My appointments are none of your concern,” James snapped, finally losing his patience.
Westfield scoffed. Loudly. “I beg to differ on that point. Now would you be quiet long enough for me to tell you how to win with these witches?”
“I didn’t get the impression that you approved of me, Westfield. Why would you give me any advice?”
The man shrugged. “Well, I’ve been where you are. Specifically, on the outside of this coven, and from what I understand,” he tapped his own ear, “excellent hearing, by the way—if you and Blaire both survive the upcoming fight, Captain Lindsay will see you leg-shackled to his fiery sister. So you’re about to enter our circle. That makes you as good as family, regardless of what I think about how you’ve gone about all of this.”
James didn’t care one whit what Benjamin Westfield thought about how he’d gone about all of this. The regal Lycan didn’t know the first thing about his life. “How generous of you. I’ll just be on my way.”
“So you don’t want to know how to get on with this coven? How to get what you want? These lovely witches are a formidable force. I am married to one, and I’m expecting one of my own in just a few months.”
“God bless you,” James muttered. Though an image of Blaire cradling their child, a little raven-haired girl who could throw fireballs, flashed in his mind. He’d give anything to see that sight for real.
“Thank you. I’ll need it. These women are connected, tightly knit in every way. They do everything together, and they draw on the strength of one another,” Westfield started to explain.
“Now Blaire has me, and she can draw on my strength.” He turned to walk away.
“Fairly naïve for a man who has been alive for as long as you have. Or addled. I’m still trying to decide which.” A small growl left the man’s throat.
James was surprised when his incisors didn’t descend in self-defense as that had been his natural reaction for so long. He rubbed at his upper lip in consternation. Westfield’s eyebrows rose just a bit in the darkness. Annoying thing, having people know about his change and his discomfort with it. He felt certain he could hold his own in a fair fight. But not with piercing teeth and a menacing bite.
“Very well, have your say.” James acquiesced. Let the man get whatever it was off his chest, and then James could get on with what he needed to do.
“If you want to find the vampyre, stay with the witches. Stay with Blaire.”
“Absolutely not.” Blaire was already in danger because of him, so leading Trevelyan to her was out of the question. “I can go and hunt the man on my own. I do know him fairly well. I can locate him, kill him, and be done with it.”
“You’re not listening to me at all.”
“You sound like Blaire.” James snorted. He’d never met a Lycan before, but he’d always heard they were a fierce race. This specimen was fairly lacking. “Are you a Lycan in women’s skirts?”
“Be glad I have two older brothers, Kettering.” Westfield did growl that time. “Or I’d knock you flat on your human ass.”
“You could try,” James tossed back.
“And I’d win. If Aiden Lindsay can send you crashing to the floor, I can most assuredly knock the smug expression from your face and then some.
”
He’d been taken by surprise, that was all. Fairly ungentlemanly of Westfield to bring it up. “Would you care to give it a try?”
“I have better things to do than show you up, Kettering. Namely, keeping my wife and the others safe.” Then Westfield lowered his voice and spoke to James as though he was a small child. “These witches don’t have to find trouble. It finds them. This vampyre friend of yours will find them as well. If you’re gone, traipsing off on your own mission to find the blood-sucker, I can promise you one or more of those delightful witches will do the same.”
Blaire. She’d done that very thing at Briarcraig Castle.
“Then it’s too late,” Westfield continued. “Their circle is only at four right now. They don’t have the benefit of all five of them together. Alone, none of them stand a chance.”
But Blaire wouldn’t be so foolish again. Not after her encounter with Sarah. James started to say as much, but the Lycan held up his hand and growled again.
“I love my wife dearly. And I know she’ll find a way to participate in this fight no matter what. So only by being here with her, with them all together, can I assure her safety. And that of her coven sisters.” His hand clapped onto James’ shoulder. “I could use your help. If you’re of a mind to give up your solo hunt and become part of the family.”
James’ heart leapt at the offer. Become part of the family. Become part of something bigger than himself. Westfield truly was welcoming him into the circle of the coven. Offering to aid him with this problem instead of making James face it alone or admonishing him for bringing this trouble into their midst. It was humbling.
“From the tale you told Sorcha earlier, I have no doubt Trevelyan will come and find them. He knows that by getting to Blaire, he could kill you. Or at least torture you with the knowledge that he harmed her for the rest of your days. When he arrives, be here. Be ready. I know I will be.”
And with that, Westfield turned and walked back toward Lindsay House.
James had two choices. He could go off on his own and find Trevelyan in his weakened state. Or he could take Benjamin Westfield’s advice and wait for Trevelyan to find Blaire. The latter scared the life out of him, but perhaps the Lycan was right.
With a sigh, James turned back and followed Westfield’s lead.
Twenty-Six
Blaire couldn’t believe James Maitland was such an incredible dolt. How dare he go off on his own with that arrogant swagger of his? She had no doubt that once upon a time he could have taken on Trevelyan all by himself, but now he sported a black eye because of her very human brother. Had James been a vampyre for so long that he couldn’t imagine not being one any longer? Was he so accustomed to living, no matter what, that he couldn’t envision not doing so now?
I expect you to stay here. His words echoed in her mind, and she scowled in response. He should know better than to dictate to her. If they were to be married, she certainly wouldn’t put up with such nonsense.
But if they were to be married, then her one-time vampyre would have to still be breathing.
Arrogant swagger or not, he needed her help, even if he didn’t realize it. But she’d faced a vampyre alone once, and her arrogance had nearly gotten her killed. She needed someone she could trust. Elspeth would be the best choice as she could heal any injuries Blaire might receive at Trevelyan’s hand, but Benjamin would never let his wife out of his sight, especially not in her delicate condition. Irritating, lovesick, overprotective mutt. So, she’d leave the healing witch to watch over Aiden and Brannock in her absence. That decision brought her some comfort.
Rhiannon. Blaire nodded her head at the next best choice. Actually, Rhi was a fairly good option. Her wind and lightning could come in quite handy in this upcoming battle.
Her mind made up, Blaire started for the parlor but found all three of her coven sisters waiting for her in the corridor.
“I’m comin’, too,” Sorcha insisted before Blaire even said a word.
“Will ye keep yer voice down?” Elspeth hissed. “How many times have I told ye that Ben canna hear ye if ye whisper?”
Sorcha shrugged, but she did lower her voice. “So where are we goin’?”
Blaire shook her head. “Ye’re stayin’ here. Rhiannon will come with me.”
Rhiannon nodded her acceptance, while Sorcha thrust out her bottom lip. “I can help, too, Blaire. And from everythin’ Lord Kettering said about this Trevelyan fellow, I doona want him around anymore than ye do.”
“Withered orchids will no’ help, Sorcha. Stay here with El and make sure Aiden and Brannock are safe.”
Sorcha folded her arms across her chest. “Lord Benjamin can help here!” Apparently, in her temper, the youngest witch forgot all about whispering. “And I’m a witch just like ye are! Just because I doona have fireballs in my fingertips doesna mean I canna help!”
Blaire grasped Sorcha’s arm and dragged her toward the back entrance. It was either take her along or have Benjamin Westfield poking his snout where it wasn’t wanted. “Will ye hush?” she ordered while Rhiannon quietly followed in their wake.
They rushed out the door, and almost instantly the chilly air nearly froze them to their bones. If Sorcha hadn’t been so bloody loud, they could have put on their coats and been mildly prepared for this outing.
“It’s freezin’!” Sorcha complained.
“Well, that’s no one’s fault but yer own,” Blaire countered as she made her way through the darkened mews. Out of nowhere, a warm breeze encompassed them all and Blaire was once again thankful for the shy, considerate Rhiannon.
“Where are we headed?” Rhiannon asked. Her soft voice stopped Blaire in her tracks.
She turned to face her sister witches who were following her in this endeavor. Rhiannon and Sorcha had some idea of what they were facing, but Blaire owed them more than that. “Above all else, Trevelyan is a man and he thinks like a man. Where does Benjamin go when he’s put out with El?”
“I doona ken where he goes, but he usually has a glass of whisky,” Sorcha supplied.
“Aye. Or a whole bottle,” Blaire agreed. “And Aiden heads off ta a pub every chance he gets. If Trevelyan is huntin’ for food, he’d go where other men converge, especially at night.”
“Do ye ken how many pubs are in Edinburgh?” Sorcha frowned. “Is that the best ye’ve got?”
“He canna be out durin’ the daylight, so he’d also need an inn or someplace ta lay his head.”
“So we’re lookin’ for an inn with a good-sized taproom,” Rhiannon stated. “Ta give him more choices in his meal. Is that it, Blaire?”
She nodded. “Each time I’ve seen him, he was dressed well, as though money was no’ a problem. I was thinkin’ ta start at the Thistle and Thorn.” It was, after all, the nicest inn in the area and one even Benjamin had stayed at a time or two in the past.
“Sounds like a good place ta start,” Rhiannon agreed.
Blaire looked from one witch to the other. There was still so much they didn’t know about vampyres, and she didn’t have a lot of time to teach them. “Let’s take a hack and I’ll explain more on the way.”
***
James stepped over the threshold of Lindsay House a bit buoyed by his decision to follow Benjamin Westfield’s advice. Keeping Blaire safe with others who had the same motivation was a bit of a relief. Before now, he never would have considered teaming up with a coven of witches, or a Lycan, for that matter, to accomplish any goal. Being part of this circle would take a little getting used to. They were like a great big family, and he’d never had that, not even in his first life. As a boy, he’d had his father, and as a vampyre, he’d always had Matthew, but that was different from a whole group of people who loved and looked after each other the way these witches and their families did.
And very soon he would be a part of it all. No, according to Westfield, he was a part of them now, simply because he loved Blaire. Amazing, the blind, nonjudgmental acceptance of this group.
&nb
sp; He made his way back to the dining room, ready to tell Blaire he’d changed his mind and they’d deal with this threat together. But she was gone. She must have joined the others in the parlor. James frowned. He’d wanted to tell her this privately. To steal a kiss or two in the process, but that was not to be.
Oh, well, he was part of this big family now. Might as well tell them all. James sighed and quickly made his way to join the others in the parlor.
Fewer people were present than when he’d left. Aiden Lindsay nursed a whisky in the far corner, and Brannock giggled while he scratched Bruce’s chin. But what made James’ heart clench was the hushed spat between Benjamin and Elspeth Westfield on the settee. There was no sign of the other three witches anywhere in sight. And if the vein bulging near Westfield’s left eye was any indication, something was not right in Lindsay House.
“Where is Blaire?” he asked the room at large as Westfield’s earlier warning echoed in his ears. Surely she wouldn’t have done something so foolish.
The Lycan heaved a sigh and rose from his spot beside his wife. “I wish I knew, Kettering. I came back here to find the three of them gone.” He glanced back at the red-haired witch at his side.
She knew. James could feel it in his bones. “Where are they, Lady Elspeth?”
From the corner, Captain Lindsay lifted his glass in salute. “Blaire can take care of herself, Kettering. As her soon-ta-be husband, ye should reconcile yerself ta that fact.”
Bloody idiot. Blaire could take care of herself in most situations, but not against a dangerous vampyre hell-bent on revenge. “Where is she?” he ground out, leveling his gaze at the only witch left.
“I suggest you watch your tone with my wife,” Westfield growled.
James turned his glare on the Lycan. “Then you make her tell me.”
Westfield shook his head. “She doesn’t know. They didn’t say before they left.”
James’ heart plummeted. How the devil was he going to find her?
“You said you knew Trevelyan,” Westfield interrupted his thoughts. “So where do you suggest we start?”