“Are you all right, lass? Tis not what you are accustomed to, but tis all this old place can offer.”
She sighed and hobbled back to him. He swept her up again as though she weighed nothing at all and carried her back to his bed, where he settled in next to her. Looking at him...tall...powerful...as beautiful as a dark archangel she wished with all her heart he wouldn’t answer her next question with a ‘yes’, but she had to ask. “You know you never really answered me before. Are you a vampire? A real blood sucking vampire like Seth Marley said you were?”
“I wouldn’t believe anything Seth Marley tells you. He stirs my hackles...sends an unease through me. When he intrudes here in my private sanctum...my domain... I must fight the impulse to do him serious harm. Am I a vampire, you ask? You have a right to an answer, Meg, since I intend to bed you. It is true that the MacMorley clan is tainted with vampire blood. The ‘curse’ as we call it, ran strong only through my direct lineage. But not every generation was infected. My grandfather was one of them. He was eventually destroyed by a mob when he attacked a young lowlander girl. I was infected, though I did not know it at first. When I made the discovery that I was.. I will spare you how I learned... I would not yield to it. I even married and tried for a normal life. It was an arranged marriage between clans...”
“The girl in the other portrait, Fiona,” Meg interjected.
“Yes...I called her Gilly...my gillyflower. I married her without love, but I came to love her deeply. She was a gentle soul and she cared for me. She was sixteen, when that portrait was painted. By then she had seen my darkest side, yet she loved me still. She was just shy of her seventeenth year when she died in childbed with my infant son. I told myself later it was for the best that my tainted seed did not bear fruit, though I have learned since my death that my father had sired another son on a crofter’s daughter and left a letter proclaiming him heir. So the line continued on down through the centuries.
“I loved Gilly and missed her and my bairn. After their death, I became little more than a drunken sot and gave in to my...darkest impulses. Some of the villagers found me one morning lying not far from here on the moor. I had been in my cups most of that night. One of the lasses that worked in the scullery here lay next to me. She was dead. There was blood on my hands...mouth, though I had no memory of injuring her. They carried me back to the castle and the word spread. I had inherited the curse...I was a vampire they said. The rest you know.
“Am I really a vampire, you ask? I am probably the ghost of a vampire more than anything. The blood lust hasn’t stirred lately, though there have been recent temptations.” His eyes glided slowly over her body and his breathing quickened. He laughed at her expression of mingled horror and pity and slid his long muscular frame up her body, until his weight pressed her into the pine straw mattress.
She was losing ground quickly. Staring into his eyes that were dark with passion, she lifted her hand and gently traced the contours of his face. “I don’t want to be a vampire,” she managed to say. “What would my sister say?”
“That is not how it is accomplished...at least in my family...I could taste you and you would not be infected.”
She was flushed with her own passion...her breasts tingling...strange unfamiliar sensations in her nether regions. “Promise?”
He laughed wickedly and buried his mouth deep in the warm curve of her neck. She expected to feel a sharp bite, but instead she felt a hot kiss and gentle nibbles that traced the long line of her throat. His hand slid aside the strap of her tank top and his tongue licked along her collarbone. She was drifting into a sensual quagmire with no bottom. She felt his teeth nibble harder, but there was no pain...only an exquisite shattering pleasure.
A raucous cry jolted Meg back from the brink of wherever she was about to tumble. Muttering angrily, Grey sat up and looked at the huge blue-black raven that had flown in through the window and now perched on the bed just above them. “Not at all good timing, my friend,” he told him in angrily. The raven looked at him, then cocked his head and looked down into Meg’s still startled eyes. “Nevermore, Meg. Meg, Nevermore. Now that the introductions are complete would you mind getting the hell out of here!”
The raven didn’t seem interested in leaving, but Meg thought it was about time she did. She had almost given herself to a vampire and still wanted to do so more than anything. “I think you should take me home, Grey. I can’t stay here with you. My sister and my brother need my help. As you probably know, Orianna has him in her clutches and we need to rescue him.”
Grey sighed heavily and his mouth thinned in anger. “I know of Orianna. She pretends to be the Baobhan Sith. There is but one Lady in White... Meaghan MacMorley...and she is not pleased. She was the daughter of the MacMorley who built the manor house, when the castle was too primitive for his tastes. He was the last laird of my direct line, though distant kin have since laid claim to the title many times.
"It was a verra dark day, when the villagers stormed the manor and took Meaghan in the ballroom, where she danced. Her father disappeared after her burial and was never seen again. After he left, she mourned him...missed him...wandered the moors without purpose, until she came here and awakened me from the dark gray twilight I had slept in for so long. In our loneliness, we became friends, though she sticks to the manor as I do the castle except for my occasional forays. But she never danced on the moors again, until the other arrived and took her place as the Baobhan Sith. She wants her gone and thinks you and your sister are meant to help in some way, though she is uncertain how. She tried to contact you on your first night at the manse, but could not get your attention.”
He swung his legs off the bed and stood looking down at her for a long moment, then said, “I will not keep you here against your will, though I may change my mind later. Come, Meg, I will take you back to the manor, but there is much between us left unfinished.” And with that, he scooped her up and hurried down to the courtyard, where his steed stood tossing his ink black mane and stomping impatiently. Lifting her lightly into the saddle, he mounted behind her and they galloped out into the fog.
They rode for some distance, before he reined in and lowered her to the ground. “The stable is just ahead and the stable boy is in the paddock. He will hear you if you call. You have escaped me, Meg...this one time. But look for me in your dreams. You will not escape me there.”
She watched, as he disappeared into the fog. None of it could have been real, could it? She must have hit her head on a rock as well as hurt her ankle. That was the only...even remotely.rational…explanation.
***
Seth drove faster than was necessary up the steep winding trail that wended its way through dense pine forests. He was trying to scare her and it was working, but she’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing it. So she smiled and pretended to enjoy the view until the rustic timber framed lodge emerged through the trees.
She was out of the Land Rover before he could reach her side. “Would you like a coffee or a cup of tea before we get started? I have alerted the lads to expect us so all will be ready.”
“Coffee would be great,” she murmured, as she followed him into the lodge.
“The MacMorleys were avid hunters. I especially enjoy the sport,” he told her over his shoulder.
Charlie grimaced. Why wasn’t she surprised? He led the way into a low beamed room, where a cheery fire roared inside its huge blackened stone hearth. “Have a seat, while I tell them what we need,” he told her, then disappeared down the hall. She looked around with distaste at the animal heads mounted on the walls and took a seat in a deep leather chair. There was a throw lying across one arm and she pulled it over her legs. It was chilly and damp at this elevation.
Seth returned in moments and took the seat next to her. “There are a number of rooms in this old place, including some very comfortable bedrooms. The hunting parties were often quite large and quite raucous from all accounts. A number of women were often included in the group...so
me willing...and some not. The MacMorleys always took what they wanted.”
“How very interesting. I hope the present laird does not continue the debauchery of his faux predecessors,” she replied with one raised brow.
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes brushing her lips and sliding down the length of her body before he smiled seductively. “How smart would I be if I answered that question?”
“You answered my question with one of your own. You wouldn’t be hiding something, would you?”
He laughed, clearly enjoying their exchange a lot more than she did. “Ah! Saved by the timely arrival of our coffee,” he said as a familiar figure brought in two steaming mugs and thrust one in Charlie's direction.
It was Vic and he didn't look any happier to see her than she was to see him. “Why, thank you,” she replied evenly, as she took the mug from his hand. “Now I know just a teensy bit more about your duties around here.”
“Apparently, you two have met. Not surprising since our community is the size of a postage stamp. Everything ready outside, Vic?”
“Yes, milord. Will there be anything else?”
“No. We’ll be out as soon as we finish our coffee.” Turning his attention back to her," he asked, “Just how familiar are you with guns, Charlie? Not too many women of my acquaintance have an interest except for trap or skeet. Just how far does your interest extend?”
She smiled and took a sip of coffee. “I know enough to get by. You about ready?”
He looked at her in surprise, then rose and led the way outside. “We’ll start at the skeet and trap range. Ever shoot trap?”
“Can’t say I have, but I’ve fired a shotgun before.”
He smiled rather patronizingly and Charlie smiled back. “That’s a start. We also have a pistol range and a rifle range up to three hundred yards...keeps us all in shape should we need to be.”
“How nice...and convenient. Bench rest with scopes or open sight? And for the rifle range, I would prefer a Bushmaster 223 with a fixed 36 power Leupold scope, if you have one.”
He laughed again, but without amusement. “How very surprising. I think we can accommodate you.”
They scored evenly at trap...25...no misses. She chose an over and under Berretta and he chose a Perazzi. He was not smiling when they moved to the pistol range. They were almost evenly matched there, but it was the ‘almost’ that really irritated Seth. His groups were good, but never quite good enough.
At the rifle range, he thrust a Bushmaster 223 at her and picked up a Ruger 1V 220 Swift. “You first,” he said tersely.
She smiled, as she put her eye and ear protection back on, then took her position. “I’m going to fire three rounds to warm up the barrel and then I’ll be ready.” First she checked the trigger for break and creep, then fired, watching to see where each round hit so that she could adjust for windage, humidity and elevation. “Ready...the next rounds count.”
When the match was over, he had gone from unamused to clearly irritated. “You could be a dangerous adversary,” he told her.
“You might want to keep that in mind,” she returned.
“Where in the hell did you learn to shoot like that?”
“Oh, just a little something I picked up. Looks like the fog is creeping back in.”
“No point in trying to make it back down in this. The moors will be blanketed in by now if it’s reached the tree line. Vic, tell them to get lunch ready. It looks like we will be here for some time.”
She handed the semi-automatic rifle back to Vic and followed Seth inside. She was pleased to notice that his enthusiasm for seducing her had vastly diminished after their match. Stretching out in front of the fire, she wondered how Meg was doing. Probably enjoying a nap, since neither of them had slept well the night before. She smiled. Cloud had returned to her and, though he had been gone in the morning, she knew he was close by. She found herself getting drowsy and shook herself awake. The last thing she wanted was to be vulnerable in this place. Too bad she hadn’t seen any opportunity to steal a gun. But there was still the one in the desk drawer if they became desperate, which she greatly feared might just happen...and soon.
***
Charlie jumped from the Land Rover as soon as it stopped and pounded up the steps to the front door. The butler opened it and stepped aside so she could enter. “Thank you, Johns. Have you seen my sister?”
He sniffed and intoned, “I believe she is in her room, miss. She has had a mishap and is resting.”
Charlie didn’t wait to hear anymore. She took the stairs two at a time and hurried down the hall to Meg’s door. Not bothering to knock she burst inside. “Meg!” she cried. “What happened...are you all right?”
Meg was propped up comfortably with her ankle elevated on two pillows. “I’m fine. Nothing serious,” she said with a grin. She didn’t want to tell Charlie about her trip to the castle...about Grey and her almost loss of virtue. She could just imagine what her sister would say if she told her that she very nearly had sex with a vampire. And still wanted to. So she kept her mouth shut, which wasn’t all that easy for Meg. “I thought I saw Allyn on the moor and I jumped out the library window and tried to follow him, but, clumsy me, I tripped on a rock and twisted my ankle.”
Charlie lifted the ice bag draped over her ankle and peered at it closely. “You didn’t get caught in the fog, did you?”
“Me? Caught in the fog? Yes...but only a teensy bit. I was close to the manor and a stable boy guided me in. How was your day with Seth?”
Charlie slid into bed next to her and leaned back with a sigh. “Exhausting. The man makes my flesh crawl. And worst of all I wasn’t able to get my hands on a gun. Then there was our old friend, Vic with the Texas drawl, swaggering about, but I managed to survive. Let’s both eat up here tonight. I don’t think you’re up to walking downstairs and I’m not up to dealing with any more of Seth Marley.” Charlie looked at her sister out of the corner of her eye. There was something different about her that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Just how bad is your ankle, Meg?”
Meg felt her sister’s eyes on her and found herself blushing. “Not as bad as it was. Mostly, it’s an excuse not to spend time downstairs, where I’m treated with icy politeness...except for Daryna, who’s scared to death of something. She was the one who brought me the ice pack and ace wrap.”
Charlie sighed and looked at her sister again. "Why do I have the feeling you're keeping something from me. Never mind...I'm sure you will tell me when you're ready, won't you? I'm going to go tell Mrs. Bently that we would like supper trays up here. Quite frankly it's been a rather exhausting day...for both of us."
***
The fog began to creep back in with the coming of night. Charlie frowned thoughtfully as she stood on the balcony watching it slowly swallow up the landscape with a gray anonymity. Though the fog had thinned by the time they'd headed back down to the manor earlier that day, she wasn’t sure how they had made it. Seth must have been pretty desperate to take the risk. She smiled to herself. Quite probably, he had grown as tired of her company as she had of his.
Near the stables, a light threaded its way through the fog. Someone was stirring about and she wondered who would be out on such a night. She started to close the French doors but Meg stopped her. “I like the night air. Even the fog on its little ‘cat feet’.”
“Would you like some help getting ready for bed?” Charlie asked, crossing the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
Meg shook her head. “I’m much better, but thanks. I can hardly feel it. Whatever he put on....” She caught herself before she said too much. As it was, she had damage control to do.
“He?” Charlie asked, watching her closely.
“Did I say ’he’? I meant ‘she’. Mrs. Bently assisted Daryna,” Meg replied with her brightest smile...the very one Charlie had learned not to trust entirely.
She smiled in return. “She doesn’t strike me as the ‘angel of mercy’ type.”
“You’d be surprised. Now off I go to the shower. We could read together for awhile when I get back.”
Charlie watched Meg head towards her bathroom and shook her head. Her sister was hiding something and she wasn’t very good at it. But the night was young and she would pry it out of her. She’d had plenty of practice over the years. Smiling to herself, she headed to her own shower.
When she’d finished she poked her head through the connecting door and found her sister already curled up in bed with a book. Meg smiled and patted the bed next to her. “Want to spend the night in here? I wouldn’t mind the company and if Cloud shows up we can both share him.”
Sometime later, they were both deep in sleep when the brightly glowing white clad figure drifted in through the open French doors. She was every bit as insubstantial as the fog that swirled around her. Her dark hair was beaded with moisture and she grimaced in distaste as she shook out the diaphanous white gown that clung damply to her lithe figure.
Once she had done all she could to remedy that, she drifted over to the bed and stared, impatiently, at the sleeping sisters. They had missed her grand entrance entirely, she thought, with a flash of irritation. Maybe she'd try something else. Floating above the bed, she moaned softly, then tried a long drawn out wail. Nothing. They were sleeping like the dead and she'd had more than her share of experience with that sort of thing. Finally, with a sniff of disgust, she poked Meg’s sore ankle…hard.
“What the....?” Meg muttered, bolting upright and looking around. She rubbed her eyes...then rubbed them again, when she saw the slender glowing figure, standing at the foot of the bed, staring at her with huge dark eyes. It was Meaghan MacMorley...it had to be, Meg thought, as the figure in front of her smiled impishly and began to dance around the room. First, she pirouetted faster and faster, then leaped high and landed, lightly, on the foot of the bed.
The Vampire Laird (A Ravynne Sisters Paranormal Mystery/Romance) Page 10