Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood Series Book 4)

by Adele Clee

  “Have no fear, love. I’m quickly losing the ability to torment you.” He knew he could soon rouse the enthusiasm to continue had there not been more pressing matters to be addressed.

  With a groan of disappointment, he rolled onto his back. Noting the smirk on her face as she straightened her dress and brushed her fingers through her hair, he felt a rush of masculine pride for her dishevelled condition.

  Her gaze drifted over his languid form sprawled out on the bed. “I suggest you button your trousers, else someone will see much more of you than they wish.” She moistened her lips as her gaze lingered where most women would not dare to look. “At the moment, it does not appear as impressive.”

  He chuckled as he jumped to his feet and tidied his clothing.

  Isla straightened her back and opened the door.

  “Forgive the intrusion.” Ivana’s voice held a hint of embarrassment. “But you asked me to bring the cure to your room. I thought I would stay with you during the healing process.”

  Isla glanced back over her shoulder and with a flick of the eyes gestured to the crumpled coverlet on the bed. Lachlan tugged at the corners and then sat down on the edge.

  “Please come in.” Isla stepped back. “We were just discussing the cure. Lachlan wishes to remain here, too, although I’m not certain if he means to wait with Douglas downstairs.”

  Lachlan stood. “I’ll stay here, in the room, if you’ve no objection.”

  Isla gave a weak smile. “No. It will bring me comfort to know you are here with me.”

  “I’ve told Leo he should keep Douglas company,” Ivana said. “For a man who is so honest in his observations, he is adept at masking his inner feelings in the presence of others. I fear he will not be as controlled if left to his own devices. Besides, they now share a mutual love of whisky, which I’m sure will keep them both entertained for hours.”

  Isla closed the door to her chamber. “Is it simply a case of drinking a tonic?”

  Ivana’s lips curled down though she tried to disguise it. “No. You must puncture your vein and drink your own blood. With others, it seems that to wait five minutes before drinking the elixir causes the least amount of pain.”

  An icy chill travelled over him at the thought of witnessing her sharp fangs protruding awkwardly from her gum. He clenched his teeth as he imagined her crying out in pain.

  “How much will I need to drink?” Isla screwed up her nose.

  Ivana touched Isla affectionately on the arm. “A little more than a mouthful should suffice. I suggest you wait five minutes before drinking the potion. Then you must lie down in the most comfortable place possible.”

  Isla nodded. “I shall lie on the bed.”

  “We’ll need water, Lachlan,” Ivana said, “to bathe her forehead and a clean pitcher full for her to drink.”

  Lachlan inclined his head. “I shall see to it at once.”

  As he left the room, he closed the door behind him. It afforded him the opportunity to express the fear clawing away inside. Pressing his palms flat against the wall, he hung his head, closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.

  He could not lose her now.

  As soon as Lachlan left the room, Isla clutched Ivana’s arm. “I’m ready now. I do not want him to see me drink my own blood. I cannot bear to look into his eyes and say goodbye.”

  “It will not be goodbye.” Ivana stroked her cheek. “You love him. That much is clear. But I understand your motives for wanting to detach from all emotion.”

  Her heart suddenly lurched at the thought of leaving him alone. “Wait,” she said as she rushed to the door to peer along the corridor. She would tell him she loved him. He would hear it from her lips. But Lachlan had already made his way downstairs, and she could not risk going to search for him. Returning to the room, she said solemnly, “I’m ready now.”

  “Are you sure you do not want to wait?”

  Isla nodded. “I’m sure.” Without another word, she concentrated on forcing her fangs from their sheath. When fully extended, she pierced the skin at her wrist, felt a sharp sting as the points of her teeth punctured the vein.

  “A mouthful is all that is needed.”

  It surprised her to find that she found the taste of her blood soothing. Indeed, it worked to calm her spirit. “How will I know when to drink the potion?” She licked the wound, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “I will count silently. You should use the time to clear your thoughts.” Ivana produced a small brown bottle from inside the bodice of her dress. “Forgive me. But it is the only place I could carry it without fear of me falling and breaking the bottle.” Ivana removed the cork stopper. “I must start counting.”

  Five minutes felt like a lifetime. Isla tried to empty her mind of all thoughts as Ivana had suggested, but her head was full of images of Lachlan. The memories of the times they had spent together in their youth were precious to her. The memory of their joining would sustain her in the afterlife if that should be her fate.

  “Are you ready?” Ivana held out the bottle: the magical mixture that would give her another chance of living a normal life.

  Isla sucked in a breath and nodded. “Thank Douglas for everything he has done for me. He has been like a father to me these last few years. Tell Lachlan I love him. I will always love him. His happiness is more important to me than anything.”

  Ivana nodded. “I will tell them, and we will all be here waiting for you once you are cleansed.”

  Struggling to steady her trembling fingers, Isla took the bottle. She raised it in a toast. “To freedom,” she said before drinking it down.

  She didn’t really know what to expect. Ivana took the bottle from her hand and stared at her pensively, as though at any moment an ear-piercing shriek would burst from her lips and she would fall to the floor in a fit.

  “You should lie down,” Ivana said, the furrow between her brows deepening. “It can come upon you quickly, catch you unawares.”

  Trusting the lady’s judgement, Isla climbed onto the four-poster bed. She lay in the middle, her arms by her sides and stared up at a sky of plush burgundy material. “I feel a little foolish just lying here.”

  “You must prepare yourself.” Ivana came to stand at her side, bent forward to brush the hair from her brow. “Do you feel any different?”

  The mind often conjured imaginary symptoms when one expected to be ill. Of course, her stomach was gurgling, and her hands were shaking, but that could easily be attributed to fear.

  “I have a strange taste in my mouth.” Isla ran her tongue over her teeth. “And my stomach feels bloated as though all the fluid from my body is being drawn to one place.”

  Ivana reached down and took her hand, clasped it tight. “Hold onto me. Squeeze as hard as you can when you’re struggling to cope with the pain.”

  Isla stared up at her. She had known kindness in her life; she knew when a person’s heart was pure and genuine. Ivana was right. When they parted, they would do so as friends. “Let me thank you now, for your caring words and thoughtful—”

  A sharp stabbing pain caused her to tug on Ivana’s hand. She tried to roll onto her side to suppress it, but no matter which way she twisted or turned her body it did not subside.

  Ivana touched her head. “You feel hot.” Her voice held a hint of panic.

  The pain grew in intensity, like a thousand pins being prodded into her body over and over again. Her face became so hot she knew if she licked her finger and dabbed at her cheek she would hear a sizzle.

  “H-help me.” The words burst from her lips as she clutched her throat.

  She was burning, cooking from the inside out. The Devil had come to claim her. This is what it felt like deep in the fiery pits of Hell.

  Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard Lachlan’s voice.

  “She has taken the cure already? Why the hell didn’t she wait?” He sounded hurt not angry.

  “It doesn’t matter now. Help me to take off her dress,�
�� Ivana snapped.

  Isla could feel them tugging and pulling, the motions going some way to distract her mind. She wanted to speak but seemed to have lost the ability to form a word. She wanted to tell him not to worry.

  I love you, Lachlan.

  A solitary tear trickled down her cheek: an acceptance that this might be her last moment with him. Finding the strength to raise her hand, she felt an instant peace when his palm settled against hers.

  But then another wave of pain swept through her, a blistering inferno sucking her down into a black abyss.

  Chapter 13

  Lachlan loomed over the bed, watching helplessly as Isla squirmed and writhed in agony. “Can we not give her something to help with the pain? A dose of laudanum or one of Malmuirie’s herbal concoctions.”

  “We cannot do anything that might interfere with the elixir,” Ivana replied. “In an attempt to help her, we could cause her more harm. It may render the cure ineffective, prolong the healing process.”

  Lachlan sighed. Every cry and shriek hurt him like a cleaver to his heart. “I cannot stand here and do nothing.”

  “Then mop her brow, talk to her, hold her hand.”

  Needing to do something to distract his mind, he rushed over to the washstand, wrung out the cloth that had been soaking in cold water and came back to the bed. With gentle strokes, he wiped her brow, her flushed face and the bright red apples of her cheeks.

  “You will wake soon,” he whispered as he continued with his ministrations. “You will wake and all will be well.”

  “We must hope that she is fortunate. The pain will be too much to bear. Losing consciousness would be a blessing. Leo’s body refused to surrender. He fought against it for long, torturous hours.” Ivana swallowed visibly, shook her head and dabbed at the corner of her eye. “The memory of that night is far from pleasant.”

  Lachlan straightened. “But you would not change it? You do not regret your decision?”

  “Oh, no,” she said her countenance brightening. “But, in the end, all that truly mattered was that we could be together.”

  Lachlan glanced at Isla. Her golden locks appeared knotted and straggly. Her soft lips were dry and flaky, still tinged red with blood. Just a few hours earlier her face had shone with pleasure, the brilliance of it all almost blinding. Now, her mouth was drawn thin. The dark circles under her eyes made her appear gaunt — a shadow of her former self.

  Even so, he found her just as captivating, just as beautiful.

  He should have told her that the affliction did not matter to him. Perhaps then she would have chosen to live with the condition. When the time came to leave her home, he could have taken her further north, found an isolated cabin where they’d spend the rest of their days together.

  But then he remembered that he would grow old, and she would be forever young.

  “Isla wants you to know that she loves you.” Ivana’s words disturbed his reverie. “She will always love you.” She paused. “Am I right to assume that Nikolai saw fit to come between you?”

  He closed his eyes briefly, trying to imagine the endearing words falling from Isla’s lips. “Nikolai ruined my life. He ruined everything.” Three years of bitterness and resentment infused his tone.

  “You know she had no choice but to marry him. When Nikolai wanted something he took it without questioning his right to do so.”

  “I should have tried to stop him.” Knowing he was weak enough to be compelled by a devil did not sit well with him.

  Ivana’s eyes flashed with pity. “There is nothing you could have done. Nikolai would have killed you. Of that I am certain.”

  Frustration turned to anger.

  “I should like to thank the man who put an end to his life.” Lachlan clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “I would bow down before him and swear my undying loyalty.”

  A faint smile touched Ivana’s lips. “Then you are in luck. The man you speak of is currently eating boiled ham and eggs with Malmuirie in the kitchen.”

  Lachlan jerked his head back. “Your … your coachman killed Nikolai?”

  “He did. And what a marvellous sight it was.”

  Various images flitted through his mind: an iron spear stabbing at Nikolai’s heart; a steel sword slicing his neck. “Whilst your coachman is a burly fellow, it must have taken more than brute strength to bring the blackguard down.”

  “The element of surprise is often the most deadly weapon in one’s arsenal. In Nikolai’s bid for supremacy, he underestimated the power of loyalty. ”

  Isla’s sudden heart-wrenching groan captured their attention.

  Lachlan took her hand and held it tight. “Shush. All will be well,” he said wincing at the sound.

  Ivana bent her head, raised Isla’s top lip and touched her gum. With a huge sigh of relief, she shot up, held out her hand to reveal the small white fang sitting in her palm. “It is good news, Lachlan.”

  “Has that fallen from her mouth?” He narrowed his gaze as he examined the strange object.

  Ivana nodded. “All those who have taken the cure have gone through a similar process.” She placed the tooth on the side table next to the bed before inspecting the condition of the other fang. It too came away in her hand. “It will not be long now. The loss of her teeth is a sure sign all is well.”

  An hour passed.

  The shrill cries finally ceased. Isla’s breathing slowed. Fearing the worst, Lachlan put his hand on her chest, relief flooding his body upon feeling the soft rise and fall beneath his palm. Her lids fluttered; she mumbled his name. Her face was much cooler to the touch but still he wiped her brow.

  Time slowed. He sat next to the bed, opposite Ivana. They spoke about Isla’s problems with the villagers, how most crimes amount to either jealousy or greed.

  Another hour passed.

  Isla muttered incoherently for a minute or so. “Come back … come back to me,” were the first words that made any sense to him. Muscles spasmed randomly: her arm jolted; her leg twitched. She shuddered.

  Overwhelmed with the need to let her know he was there, he bent his head and gently touched his lips to hers. At first, he thought he imagined her weak response. But as he pulled away, she sucked in a breath and opened her eyes a fraction.

  “Isla. Can you hear me?” He brushed the hair from her face, stared at her while he waited for another sign of life, of success.

  “Lachlan.” His name was but a soft whisper from her cracked lips. Struggling with the weight of her lids, it took a few minutes before she opened her eyes fully. Once a little more alert, she blinked rapidly as her gaze darted around the room. “Lachlan.”

  “I’m here.” He towered over her, yet she failed to notice his large frame.

  She raised her hand; tentative fingers touched his arm, patted nervously at his chest. “It is so dark in here,” she said.

  He glanced at the various candles illuminating the room. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

  “Am I dead?”

  A weak chuckle fell from his lips: an expression of relief as there was nothing amusing about the situation. “No, my love. You are very much alive.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.

  “Then why is it so … so dark?”

  Ivana moved closer, waved her hand in front of Isla’s face as she studied her eyes. She shot back. The shock on Ivana’s face caused a feeling of dread to grasp him by the throat and squeeze.

  Lachlan stared at Ivana and raised a questioning brow.

  The lady shook her head in reply, yet he had no idea what that meant.

  “The recovery process can be long and exhausting,” Ivana said. She sat on the edge to the bed, took Isla’s hand and stroked it affectionately. “It is not dark in here, but your eyes are yet to heal fully.”

  Isla gasped, tugged her hand from Ivana’s to touch her eyes, her face. “I cannot see. Everything is dark.” She pulled and prodded her lids, blinked too many times to count. “Help me, Lachlan. Help me to
sit up.”

  “Is that wise?” His words of caution conveyed his conflicting emotions: relief tinged with fear and anguish. “Should you not rest a little longer?”

  She put her hand to her throat and shook her head. “No. My throat feels gritty and I … I need to drink.”

  Ivana’s bottom lip quivered, and she asked, “Water? Do you need water?”

  It occurred to him that she feared Isla would still crave blood.

  “Yes,” Isla gasped. “I need water.”

  They both took an arm and helped Isla to sit up. Ivana plumped the pillows to support her head while he brought the pitcher and glass. Trying to keep his hand steady he filled the tumbler, only spilling a drop.

  “Shall I hold it to your lips?” he asked. Putting the pitcher on the side table, he sat next to her on the bed.

  “Put it in my hand.”

  He did as she asked but her trembling fingers forced him to cover her hand to help guide the glass. She made no objection but sipped the liquid slowly until she had drained the vessel dry.

  “Do you remember anything of the last few hours?” Ivana asked.

  Isla’s frown turned into a grimace. “Just that … it was so terrible. I have never experienced such pain. It … it was like being stabbed with skewers whilst being cooked alive.” She shook her head vigorously. “Please, I do not want to speak of it. I do not want to remember.”

  Lachlan placed the empty glass next to the pitcher. “And how do you feel now?” He drew his hand roughly down his face but suppressed a sigh. Watching the cure do its work had been torturous.

  She contemplated his question. “Still a little weak but the burning pain has subsided.” She looked at a point beyond his shoulder, her pretty blue eyes flitting back and forth as she struggled to focus. “Will … will I regain my sight?”

  He caught Ivana’s grim expression, and she said, “I’m sure it will just be a matter of time. While you grew new teeth to cope with the consequences of the affliction, your eyes would have suffered under the strain whenever you changed.”