by Lynsay Sands
Positive he slept, she lifted his arm and eased out from under him, moving slowly and cautiously in an effort not to wake him. Once out from under it, Eva set his arm on the bed and pulled her robe on. She wanted to go to the old chamber and order a bath, she should probably check in with Glynis as well, the girl might be wondering where she was and perhaps even be worried. But, while Eva wasn’t sure what time it was, she didn’t think it was much past dawn. The castle inhabitants who slept nights would be sitting down to break their fast, Glynis among them, and Effie would be busy as could be in the kitchens. She thought it might be best to wait a bit before bothering them with a request for a bath.
Eva glanced around the room, debating what to do until then and her gaze landed on the dark blue gown she’d been wearing that day. It was one of the new ones, though it hardly looked like it at the moment, dusty and wrinkled as it was from her first working, then sleeping in it earlier. There was also a tear in one of the sleeves. Eva had caught it on something while moving things about earlier, though she would be hard-pressed to say when it had occurred exactly. She had only noticed the tear on rising from her nap before Connall had returned to the room.
Fortunately, the tear was along a seam and would be easily repaired and that seemed the perfect chore to keep her busy until it would be more convenient for her to take her bath. Bending, she collected the gown and moved to the chairs by the fire, then lay the gown across one of the chairs, and paused to place a couple of logs on the fire, before turning back to remove the untouched chess game and wine from the chest. Once those were out of the way, Eva opened it to search out the needle and thread she had placed inside after hemming the last of the gowns that were being made for her.
She had the lid up and was on her knees with her head buried in the chest when Eva heard the chamber door open. Her first thought was that it would be Glynis, and that the girl must be done breaking her fast. Perhaps it was later than she had thought and she could eschew the sewing for now and go take a bath. Eva had started to straighten to see if she was right, when she recalled that she wasn’t in her chamber anymore. She was in the secret chamber…and Glynis didn’t know about this room.
Eva froze, the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly standing on end. According to Connall, the only people who knew about this room, besides himself, were his mother, sister, and Ewan. And herself now, of course. She couldn’t imagine any of them just walking into the room without knocking. Moving cautiously, she eased back on her haunches behind the chest, knowing it hid her from view at least from the door. Unfortunately, it also blocked her view of all but the top of the door as it was slowly, stealthily she couldn’t help thinking, eased closed.
She waited silently, holding her breath as she listened to see if someone had just looked into the room or actually entered. After a moment that seemed to last an eon, the stirring of the rushes told her that someone had entered. Now, she had to look.
Moving carefully, Eva eased up slightly until she could just see over the top of the chest, then quickly ducked back down. Dear Lord, it was the man in the cape, or at least it was a man in a cape, she couldn’t be sure, of course, if it was the same man she had seen the other morning, but thought it was a good bet that it was. He had obviously succeeded at figuring out the secret to opening the door, she realized.
Eva’s gaze slid anxiously to the bed and she willed Connall to wake up and deal with the situation, but, of course, he didn’t. And really, even if he woke up now, he would surely be so sleep-befuddled that he might be slow to react to whatever the fellow had in mind and end up hurt…or dead. Connall had said that there had been three attempts on his life in recent times and Eva very much feared that this was going to be attempt number four, and she was the only person presently conscious and capable of dealing with the intruder.
Now, she just had to figure out how, Eva thought with vexation. And quickly. The man had started moving toward the bed, reaching beneath his cape as he went. She didn’t doubt for a minute that he was reaching for a weapon and Eva now glanced around for the nearest possible weapon she might use.
The wine, the chess game, a needle and thread…One of the chairs? Nay, it was well built and sturdy and she didn’t think she could raise it and run across the room carrying it. Her best asset at this point was the element of surprise, and stumbling clumsily across the room with a chair—
Eva’s thoughts died as her eyes landed on the fire. The fresh logs she had thrown on it were already alight and burning merrily, but she hadn’t placed one of them very well and while one end was buried in the flames, the other was sticking out over the hearth. Eva did not even think, one moment she was staring at the log as the idea formed and in the next she was reaching out for the log and launching to her feet in one fluid movement.
Her timing was close, she saw as she turned toward the bed. The intruder had pulled a sword from his waist and was even now lifting it over his head in preparation for what appeared to be a straight downward hacking movement. It looked to her as if he intended to cut off Connall’s head. Afraid he would bring it down before she could cross the room and stop him, Eva let loose a shriek as she charged forward, swinging the log.
It was a scream that woke Connall, an animal sound of fear and fury that startled him awake and sent his eyes flying open. The first thing he saw was the sword descending toward him and he instinctively raised an arm in self-defense and rolled to the side at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of his attacker being attacked as Eva swung a burning log into his stomach. The action wasn’t enough to stop the downward impetus of the sword, but did bring the man around slightly so that the weapon was jerked lower along Connall’s body and turned at an angle. He felt the bite of the metal into his side as he finished the roll and tumbled from the bed.
Grunting at the pain singeing through him, Connall grabbed for the wound. He didn’t need to feel the blood pouring over his fingers to know his wound was deep and bleeding copiously, the air was suddenly rich with the scent of his own blood. Connall cursed but had little time to worry about it other than that at the moment. The image of Eva’s pale face as she had run forward to try to save him was etched in his mind and he was very aware that she was on the other side of the bed at that moment with the intruder. His little Eva, small, blonde, and English, was battling alone for both their lives. He had to help her.
Letting go of the wound, he grabbed the edge of the bed and dragged himself up into a sitting position. His eyes immediately moved to the spot where his wife and the intruder should have been battling, but the spot was empty. All he could see was the open door and the dark hallway beyond.
“Connall!” Eva was suddenly at his side. It seemed he hadn’t seen her at first because she’d been moving around the bed to him. “You’re bleeding.”
“Tis fine. It isna verra deep,” he lied as she pressed her free hand to it.
Her gaze met his, then slid to the burning log she still held. After the briefest of hesitations and a glance toward the door, Eva stood and managed to retrieve the sheet out of the tangle the bedclothes had become, then shoved it at him. “Hold this on it, tightly. I shall be right back.”
Connall instinctively pressed the cloth to his side as he watched her hurry around the bed again, toward the door. Afraid she was going to go for help and worried that she might meet up with their intruder again if she did so, Connall opened his mouth to call out to her, then closed it again when—rather than run through it—she skidded to a halt at the door and slammed it shut. Still carrying the log, his wife then ran to the chairs and began to drag one across the floor, apparently to bar it lest the intruder return. He found a small smile curving his lips at this action. He had done well in choosing Eva to bride. She had the courage to risk herself to save him, and the sense to prepare against a possible second attack. She was a damned fine woman.
Only when she had the chair levered against the door to prevent it opening, did Eva give up her makeshift weapon
. Running to the fireplace, she tossed it back onto its brothers, then hurried back to his side.
“Let me see the wound,” she insisted, dropping to her knees beside him. She was tugging at his hand even as she spoke the order and Connall was feeling weak enough that he let her do as she wished. The wound was terribly deep and his blood loss, plus the reparations his body was having to make, were weakening him.
“There’s so much blood!”
He could hear the fear in her voice, but could do little to soothe her. Connall was suffering a good deal of fear at the moment as well, but not for himself. “Eva, ye ha’e to go.”
“What?” She glanced up at his face with confusion. “Nay, Connall. I must stop the bleeding.”
“Nay. Go!” He tried to push her away, but it was a rather weak push, one she simply rebounded from and ignored. Connall scowled. He didn’t care for feeling weak like this “Eva, I am orderin’ ye to go.”
“Well, you can order all you bloody like, my lord husband, but I will not leave your side until I get the bleeding stopped,” she snapped and Connall gaped at her, unable to believe his sweet, witty, lovely little bride had spoken to him so. Were wives not supposed to obey their husbands? He was sure he recalled that in the wedding ceremony.
“Come, we must get you on the bed.”
Eva was on her feet now and pulling at him, he realized, and bloody hell if she wasn’t somehow managing to lever him upward. Deciding he might get rid of her quicker if he aided in this endeavor, Connall did his best to help get himself on the bed, but if he had hoped she might then run for help, he had been sadly mistaken.
Once she had him there, she did rush off, but only to collect several candles from around the room. She lit them at the fire, then set them on the bedside tables, putting more light on the situation, then bent to examine his wound. He saw the surprise that widened her eyes.
“Tis not as bad as it first appeared. Tis just a flesh wound,” she informed him with some relief, then confusion crossed her brow. “But there was so much blood.”
“Eva,” Connall growled, fighting instincts that were quickly consuming him. The wound had been deep when she’d first looked and had been deeper still when it had first happened, but his body was healing itself; knitting together and repairing the damage. The bleeding would soon stop altogether, the wound would fully close, and within hours there wouldn’t even be a scar to show for the blow. This was all thanks to his bloodline, his Pictish ancestry on his mother’s side. It held many such wonderful gifts for its possessor; a prolonged life, resistance to illness and—handy as it was in this instance—quick healing. But these miraculous gifts came at a cost and he didn’t want Eva to pay the price.
“Eva, ye ha’e to go now!”
“You must be a bleeder,” she commented as if he hadn’t spoken, not that he had spoken very vehemently, Connall needed to replenish himself, he needed blood, a need that was growing unbearably strong.
“Tis not very deep, but it still must be closed.” Without waiting for his comment on this, she hurried away again and he watched helplessly as she ran to the chest by the fire and dug around inside. Eva was back within moments, bearing needle and thread, but when she bent to peer at his wound again, she paused, blinked, then leaned nearer for a closer look before muttering, “I would swear the wound has grown smaller still.”
Shaking her head at the ridiculousness of that observation, she began to thread her needle.
“Do no’ waste yer thread,” Connall said wearily.
Eva glanced up, then grew still as she peered at his face. “You look different.”
He said nothing, knowing that his face would appear leaner to her, his eyes perhaps taking on more of a yellow tinge in the brown depths.
“You are very pale, but…” She was obviously trying to puzzle it out, but didn’t understand and was growing frightened and confused.
“Aye, nae doubt I am pale. I lost a fair amount o’ blood,” Connall said, wishing he could ease this for her.
“Aye.” She nodded slowly and tried to smile, but was having difficulty with it and he knew she could see the hunger in him. “You need food and rest to rebuild it.”
“I need blood.”
Eva stared at him silently, then her eyes moved back to his wound as if drawn there by some unseen force. He could tell by her expression that it was continuing to heal, growing smaller by the moment.
“You heal much more quickly than we do,” she said finally.
Her voice was bleak and Connall winced at the knowledge in it. We. She had finally admitted to what was staring her in the face; the supposed reaction to the sun, the rumors, his wound healing so quickly…The fact that Aileen aged had probably confused her, but she was seeing it now. ‘You heal more quickly than we.’ We. He was not one of her kind, at least not wholly. He was different. Connall always had been, and should be used to it by now, but somehow it hurt hearing Eva say it.
Her face was expressionless when she turned it back to him to ask, “Are you soulless?”
Connall knew that she was making a decision in her mind, one vital to their future. He had feared this moment, but felt hope in the fact that she hadn’t simply turned away in horror.
“Aye. I’m no a dead, soulless creature as the rumors proclaim,” he answered solemnly. “I’m jest different.”
“But you cannot go out in sunlight. That is true?” she queried.
“I can, but it makes me ill and increases me need fer blood.”
Eva nodded slowly. “Do you kill those you…?”
“Feed on,” he supplied, then grimaced over the question before saying firmly, “There’s no mair need to kill those we feed on than there is to kill the cow who supplies the milk.”
For some reason that comment brought a wry smile to her lips, then she sighed and he thought he heard her mutter, “So I will be the cow after all.”
Connall was puzzling over that comment, when she sank to sit on the side of the bed and extended her arm toward him. “Go ahead, my lord. Take what you need.”
He stared at her helplessly. Take what you need? He needed her and he needed her blood, but he couldn’t do it, not like this. Connall could imagine sinking his teeth into her wrist and her watching him, shuddering with distaste and thinking him an animal. He didn’t want her to see him that way. He never wanted her to see him that way.
Taking her hand, he drew it to his lips and ran them lightly across the sensitive skin there even as he grit his teeth against the knowledge that the blood he so yearned for was pulsing below the thin surface of her flesh. Eva trembled under the caress and Connall felt relief that her knowledge did not now make him so repulsive to her that she could not bear or respond to his touch. He continued to move his lips along her arm, nibbling a trail to the crook of her arm, further relieved when Eva released a soft moan.
He lifted his head then and caught one hand behind her head to draw her down for a kiss. Eva came willingly, kissing him with the passion he was used to and Connall immediately began to tug at the neckline of her gown until one breast popped free and he could close his hand over it. Eva began to kiss him more frantically as he caressed her, pressing into his touch, and though he knew he was rushing it, Connall couldn’t stop himself from finding the hem of her skirt and sliding his hand beneath, to run along the inside of her leg until he found the center of her.
Eva gasped into his mouth, caught at his hand to still it and tugged free of the kiss to protest, “But you are hurt.”
“Aye, so ye’ll ha’e to help me, love.”
“Help?” She looked uncertain.
“Aye.”
Eva had eased her hold on his hand without thinking and he took advantage of this and started to caress her again even as he claimed her mouth once more. Connall thrust his tongue into her mouth to prevent any further protest, even as he thrust a finger into her, and was pleased when she gasped and her body arched in response. His control slipping, Connall struggled with his instincts for anot
her moment before breaking the kiss and letting his lips trail to her ear where he growled, “Take yer gown off.”
Eva hesitated, then stood to do as he asked and Connall took that opportunity to sit up and ease his way further up the bed until he could sit with his back braced. His wound was completely healed now, with no sign that it had ever existed and he caught her staring at where it had been when he finished settling himself. Reaching out, he took her hand and tugged lightly, pulling her forward. “Come. Sit on me lap and kiss me again.”
She surprised him by moving without hesitation, but he realized as she straddled him that she was trembling, her body already in a heightened state of excitement as was his own. It took only a moment for him to understand why, it was the blood rush after battle, some said it was a result of excess energy after a fight, others said it was a need to reaffirm life after a brush with death. Connall didn’t care what it was, but it was powerful and would aid him here, eliminating the necessity to go slowly.
Eva was straddling him, but still upright on her knees and Connall took advantage of the position to reach between her legs and caress her again with one hand as he tugged her head down for a kiss with the other. Her passion grew quickly and his along with it, her little moans and mewls of pleasure stoking his own desires, but his were twofold and demanding and Connall soon could not wait any longer. Easing his hand from between her legs, he caught her hips and urged her down, groaning into her mouth as she closed over him like a warm, wet glove, squeezing his flesh and making it grow harder still.
Eva felt some of her anxiety slip away from her as her husband groaned into her mouth. This was all new to her and slightly uncomfortable in that she was the one in control and feared doing it wrong. That sound of pleasure from Connall, however, eased her fears somewhat and Eva began to emulate his movements when he was in control and quickly raised herself back up, easing herself almost off him before letting herself slide back down his length again. The action elicited another groan, encouraging her further, but soon her own pleasure made her forget any anxiety and she began to move in the way that felt most pleasurable to her, her breath beginning to come in pants as the now familiar tension began to build.