“Tearlach?”
Her concerned voice forced his eyes open and he found her standing before him, concern on her face as she peered at him.
“I am going to do the one at your waist now,” she said quietly and he realized his second arm was now free and hung limply at his side like his first.
“Are you all right?” she asked with a frown. “You look pained.”
Unwilling to explain what it was exactly that was paining him and what he wanted to do, Tearlach merely nodded.
Her expression remained uncertain and concerned, but Lucy took him at his word and once again bent to his waist.
Tearlach closed his eyes on the image of her knelt before his groin and simply waited. He knew the moment the chain snapped free. He tried to stay upright, but it was impossible. The moment the chain no longer held his weight, Tearlach buckled and slid down the wall to his knees. Lucy tried to catch him and help him remain upright, but he was too heavy for her and they ended up facing each other on their knees.
“Are you all right?” she asked with concern, keeping him from collapsing against her by pressing her hands to his chest.
Tearlach moaned, his teeth actually aching with the need for blood. Fighting the urge to pounce on this precious woman, he growled, “What is yer plan tae get us both oot o’ here?”
When Lucy was silent for a moment, Tearlach forced himself to straighten as much as he could, then leaned back against the wall so that he could see her. Lucy was worrying at her upper lip with her teeth as she watched him. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she held her arm up, offering him the wrist Wymon had cut. “Feed. Regain your strength and let us get out of here.”
Tearlach almost pounced on the offering, but then his mind kicked in and made him pause. The amount of blood he would need to regain his strength and heal was more than she could give up without growing weak herself. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. “Nay. Go. Escape and get word tae me clan. They shall fetch me.”
“There shall be nothing to fetch,” she said sharply. “Wymon shall be furious when he finds I have escaped and most likely beat you to death in his fury.”
Tearlach didn’t argue the point. He suspected she was right. While the man was supposed to torture information from him, Wymon did not seem the sort to enjoy being bested and would not take the escape of one of his prisoners well at all. In his temper and pique he might very well kill him. Sighing, Tearlach shook his head and then let his head drop wearily. “It doesnae matter, so long as you escape.”
Rather than appreciate his sacrifice, Lucy snorted. “Oh, do not be a fool. I shall not escape alone.” Catching him by the chin she lifted his head, stared him in the eye, and said firmly, “I need you.”
Tearlach stared at her with sudden understanding. This of course explained all. The horror he’d seen on her face had been real. She did think him a monster, but she’d deal with the devil himself to get out of there. It wasn’t trust and like that had moved her to take him with her, but need. Despite having known her only a matter of days, for some reason that was a bitter drink for Tearlach to swallow, it roused a rage in him that almost had him tearing out her throat with his need. But something in his face must have spoke of the emotions roiling in him, for fear suddenly rose in Lucy’s eyes and she trembled against him. Fear on that face was enough to help him rein in his emotions and allow his mind to function again.
Of course she was afraid. No doubt all she knew of his kind were the rumors that claimed they were soul stealers and bloodsuckers. Who would not fear him? But Tearlach didn’t want her to fear him, he wanted to reassure her and let her see what he was truly like, that his need for blood was just a part of him. That he didn’t steal souls or attack unsuspecting travelers or any of the other things mortals claimed about his kind.
Swallowing his rage, Tearlach took a steadying breath. He had to feed to get them both out of there, but he would not do it as she wished and lap at her wrist like a hungry dog licking at a bit of meat as she looked on with silent disgust...and he would not hurt her.
“Tearlach?” Lucy whispered and there was uncertainty and concern on her face again as she peered at him.
He forced a smile to lips that felt stiff and dry and whispered, “Kiss me.”
She blinked in surprise at the request but at least did not appear repulsed at the idea, instead she simply appeared confused. “Should you not feed? I fear you are very weak. If you lose consciousness before you can feed, we—”
“Kiss me,” Tearlach repeated softly, insistently.
“But—I...” Lucy flushed a pretty pink and looked away as if for an escape.
Tearlach didn’t repeat the request, but leaned forward slightly and caught her lips with his own. She didn’t pull away or resist, but simply stayed still under his lips at first and then Tearlach managed to raise his hand to her shoulder and slide it clumsily into her hair to hold her head in place. Though it was a weak hold indeed and one she would have had no difficulty escaping had she tried, she didn’t, but breathed out a little sigh as he tilted his own mouth on hers and slid his tongue out to tease her lips apart. The moment she allowed him in, Tearlach put all his waning strength into the kiss and suddenly found reserves he hadn’t known he had.
They were both panting with the effort when he tore his lips away and began to press butterfly kisses to her cheek and then down her throat.
“Tearlach,” she breathed, her voice trembling with myriad emotions. Not one of them fear.
“Aye,” he breathed against her neck.
“You must feed,” she whispered on a moan.
“Aye,” he breathed and then sank his teeth into her neck. He felt her stiffen, but it was only a brief, automatic response. He was already infusing her with the pleasure and relief he was experiencing.
Moaning deep in her throat, Lucy sank against Tearlach and allowed her eyes to drift closed as her body shuddered and shivered under the pleasure suddenly coursing through her.
Part of her mind was full of wonder. She’d never expected offering her blood to him to be such a pleasurable experience. Another part of her mind was grateful that Tearlach hadn’t bitten her when Wymon had tried to force him to earlier. The idea of experiencing this with Carbonnel and his men looking avidly on was horrifying. She suspected Wymon Carbonnel wouldn’t have made the offer had he realized what feeding consisted of. He’d wanted to scare and torture her into agreeing to marry him, not offer her a pleasurable experience.
Tearlach suddenly pulled away from her with a gasp, and Lucy allowed her head to fall back against his supportive arm, watching him as he stared up at the ceiling, his mouth partly open and fangs visible. She stared at the teeth with fascination, finding it hard to believe that his bite had not been painful, but instead had given her pleasure.
Leaving the puzzle to be considered at another time, she shifted her eyes to his face and frowned. While he’d regained some of his color and wasn’t quite the same shade as parchment anymore, he didn’t really look much healthier than he had before he’d fed and it seemed obvious to her that he needed more blood.
“You need more,” she said quietly.
Tearlach closed his eyes as if against temptation and shook his head. “Ye can no’ give more without growin’ weak yerself.”
Lucy bit her lip. It seemed to her that his strength would come in handier than her own. Were it necessary, he could carry her. The same could not be said for her ability to carry him. “Perhaps if you took just a little more—”
Tearlach shook his head, but merely said, “Stand up.”
“What?” she asked with confusion.
“Stand up,” he insisted.
Lucy had no idea why he wished it, but rather than argue, she simply slid from his embrace and stood up next to him, reaching for the wall with surprise when the room swam briefly around her.
“I’ve already weakened ye. I’ve taken enough,” he insisted quietly and when she made to protest, added, “the
amount I need wid kill ye, lass.”
Lucy frowned, but didn’t argue further. Instead, she asked, “Can you walk?”
Tearlach was silent and unmoving for a moment, then gathered himself and forced himself to his feet. He stood, swaying slightly, but he stood under his own power and Lucy supposed it would have to be enough for now.
Moving under his arm, she took some of his weight as she steered him toward the door. Tearlach didn’t protest her aid and that more than anything told her that he wasn’t as strong as he claimed. From what she had learned these last few days as they talked, she knew he was a proud man who would not enjoy needing anyone’s help, let alone a woman’s. Obviously he was weak enough to swallow his pride. He definitely needed more blood, but she knew he would not take hers. Her best hope was that they ran across one of Wymon’s men on his own and Tearlach was able to feed off him. Fully.
Lucy felt bad just for thinking the thought since it would mean the man’s death, but they were being held prisoner here unjustly and against their will. And neither of them would meet a happy end if they did not escape. If it meant helping him to feed off of a lone soldier they caught unawares, she would do it.
Burdened by these grim thoughts and the little bit of his weight Tearlach was allowing her to take, Lucy led him out of the dungeon and to the stairs leading above.
“Where does that door come oot?” Tearlach asked when they paused at the foot of the stairs.
Lucy bit her lip and considered the question. She had been to Carbonnel half a dozen times in her life including this last visit with her brother, but had never really had a tour. Finally, she shook her head. “I do not think it leads into the great hall. Mayhap the kitchens.”
Tearlach grimaced. “Let us hope not.”
“Nay,” Lucy murmured. The kitchens in a castle this size would be a constant buzz of activity. Not a spot where they could easily avoid being seen leaving. Sighing, she eased out from under his arm. “Wait here and I shall take a peek.”
Before he could protest, Lucy slipped quickly up the stairs to the door at the top. She paused to take a deep breath, and then eased the door open enough to peer out. Her eyes widened incredulously as she realized she was looking into the Carbonnel Barracks where the soldiers slept when they were not about their duties. At the moment, those barracks were nearly empty with only two men remaining inside, both appearing sound asleep. It seemed their timing was fortuitous. The rest of the men were either up on the wall or at table.
Her gaze slid over the room, pausing on bits of clothing lying about; a tunic here, a pair of braies there, and one or two scraps of what appeared to be jupons with the Carbonnel colors. Thank God men were not the most tidy of creatures, she thought, and then peered back at Tearlach. She gestured for him to wait where he was, and then checked the room once more before slipping into it and moving along the beds, snatching up bits of cloth until she had two full uniforms.
Lucy made her way back to the door, slid onto the stairs, and eased it closed, not realizing she’d been holding her breath until she sucked a deep draught of the fetid dungeon air into her depleted lungs. Shaking her head, she hurried back down the stairs to Tearlach’s side.
“The door leads into the barracks,” she informed him quietly, sorting through the clothes she’d retrieved. “Here, we have to change into these.”
Tearlach grimaced as he accepted the clothes she handed him and she couldn’t blame him. They weren’t exactly sweet smelling. Most of them appeared to be cast offs that had been replaced because of their poor condition, but neither of them were in a position to complain.
Turning away from her, Tearlach leaned against the wall and began to disrobe. All it took was one tug and his plaid fell away. Lucy flushed with embarrassment and quickly turned her back to the sight. Leaving him by the stairs, she slipped back into the dungeon they’d shared and quickly pulled the braies on under her gown, then removed the dress to don the tunic and the jupon with the Carbonnel colors. Lucy then ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of her gown and used it to tie back her hair. She then slipped it down her back under the tunic and jupon.
Finished, Lucy moved quickly back out to rejoin Tearlach, relieved to see that he had managed to don his own clothes without aid. She didn’t think she had it in her to dress the man. She would have done it if she had to, but really, it would have been mortifying.
Tearlach smiled faintly when she returned, but then sighed and shook his head.
“What?” she asked with concern.
“Ye look far too pretty tae pass fer a boy, lass. We shall be spotted at once.”
Lucy bit her lip and hesitated, then knelt and ran her hands over the stone floor, relieved when she lifted them and saw that they were covered in dirt. Managing not to grimace at the necessity, she raised her hands to her face and scrubbed the dirt onto her cheeks, nose, and forehead and then straightened and faced Tearlach in question.
His mouth twisted with weary amusement, but he nodded. “Better.”
Shoulders sagging with relief, Lucy slid her arm under his again and they made their way slowly up the stairs. Lucy managed not to chivvy him to hurry, but had to bite her lip to keep from doing so. She was very aware of the time passing and the danger that they would reach the top of the stairs only to find that the men had finished their meal or whatever it was that was keeping them from the barracks and that they had a room full of guards to get through.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, she forced a smile for him, then eased the door open and peered out into the barracks, her eyes widening when she saw that luck was with them. Not only were the other men not returned, but one of the men who had been there sleeping when she’d been in the room earlier had apparently awoken and left. There was only one man left in the barracks and he was snoring soundly.
“Come,” Lucy said and helped Tearlach into the room. They moved slowly along the row of beds until they reached the one where the lone soldier slept and then it was Lucy who stopped.
When Tearlach glanced at her in question, she glanced toward the door, and then back to the man before whispering, “Feed.”
The Scot’s eyes widened incredulously at the suggestion and he shook his head before whispering, “No time. Too risky.”
Lucy frowned, but bowed to his decision and continued forward to the door leading out of the barracks. She was glad she had not insisted when she eased the door open and spotted the group of men moving across the bailey in their direction. They would have been interrupted and discovered for sure.
Her gaze swept the courtyard. The day was waning, the sun no longer visible in the sky as night settled in. She hoped that would aid them, it would make them less recognizable at least.
A shout from the direction of the keep doors made the group stop and turn to wait for one of their comrades and Tearlach immediately hissed, “Quickly.”
Lucy was already moving. Fear and adrenaline either gave her added strength, or gave him temporary strength, either way, between the two of them they managed to rush out and around the building out of sight before being spotted. Pausing at the back of the barracks, they both leaned against the wall while they got their bearings.
“Where are the stables?” Tearlach gasped.
His question made her straighten to peer around and Lucy could have wept with relief when she realized exactly where they were. They stood in an alley of sorts between two buildings, the one they leaned against was the barracks, the building across from them was the stables. Before she could tell him so, the faint whicker of a horse drew his gaze to the building no more than ten feet in front of them. She nodded when he turned a questioning gaze her way.
“Wait here,” she whispered and slipped away, hurrying to the opposite structure and then moving quickly around the side of it. She paused to glance over the busy courtyard, but when she didn’t spot anyone paying her any undue attention, she straightened away from the wall, tried for a young man’s swagger, and strode around front and into the stables.
Lucy had no plan and simply hoped that if she walked in and began to saddle a horse as if she were about some purpose, no one would question her. As it happened, it seemed the stable master was at his meal as well. The stables appeared empty.
Sending up a silent prayer of thanks, Lucy peered along the row of horses, her heart lightening when she spotted her mare. Trinket was a beautiful black, fast and smart and affectionate. She would also carry two riders with little difficulty. A good thing since she didn’t think Tearlach could stay in the saddle on his own.
Grabbing a saddle, Lucy greeted the animal with soft whispers and soothing words as she prepared the mount. Once finished saddling the mare, she led her quickly to the stable doors.
Pausing in the shadows just inside the open doors, Lucy peered over the bailey, alarmed to see that it was quickly becoming crowded with people filing out of the keep. The meal was most definitely over.
Urgency creeping along her back, she tightened her hold on her mare’s reins and led her quickly out of the stables and around the side at a quick march. Tearlach stumbled away from the back of the barracks as she approached and between them they managed to get him on the horse’s back. Once he was seated, Lucy pretty much climbed up the man’s leg to get on the mare as well. Settling before him on the horse, she caught the reins in hand and turned her toward the gates.
“Hold on,” Lucy whispered to Tearlach, and then set her heels to the horse’s sides to get her moving. Trinket, picking up on her urgency, burst into an immediate gallop that Lucy was hard pressed to slow. She herself wanted to charge out of there as if the devil were snapping at the horse’s rear too, but feared it would draw unwanted attention. A fast walk would be less noticeable, she hoped, and forced the animal to slow to that.
The next few moments were the most tense and nerve-racking of Lucy’s life. Were her hands not busy holding the reins, she would have been hard pressed not to chew her nails to the quick, which would have been a waste as it turned out, since they managed to ride to and out through the gates of Carbonnel without either being stopped or even really noted as far as she could tell. At least, if their passing was noted, it was assumed there was nothing odd about it. She supposed the fact that they were wearing soldiers’ clothes and colors aided in convincing those at the gate and on the wall that they were about a duty for their lord.
Highland Thirst Page 17