The Vampire Laird (A Ravynne Sisters Paranormal Mystery/Romance)

by Merabeth James

  Suddenly, the door opened and Seth walked in, signaling to Daryna, who hurriedly gathered up what was left of Charlie’s clothes and fled after flinging a sad smile in Charlie’s direction. He moved closer until they were only an arm’s length apart. She lifted her head and met his gaze unflinchingly. “Well, now what?” she asked dryly.

  “More than you can imagine,” he murmured huskily, lifting a strand of her hair, “shall we begin?”

  “I’d rather not. I took your bath...which was rather nice...and you watched. You promised you would not harm my sister.”

  “What if I lied. I’ve been known to do that, when it suits my purpose.”

  “And why am I not surprised?” she murmured, studying her chances of taking this man in a fight if it came to that. He was much larger...powerfully built and, his eyes told her, without mercy. “Okay...do your worst. I just don’t care anymore,” she said with a yawn.

  “You might find my ‘worst’ is more pleasurable than you ever imagined. I am going to do things to you...awaken you to the most intense sexual orgasm…to the most exquisite sensations that can only be found in the bridge between pleasure and pain. I will bring to you dark delights forbidden to most mortals, but not to me, or to you, when I take you. Now where do we begin?”

  ***

  Meg crawled out of the armoire and crossed the room quickly. With her ear to the door, she listened intently, but heard nothing so she opened it and looked in both directions. The hall was both dark and deserted, though she could hear the buzz of voices in other parts of the manor. “Okay, Meg,” she whispered to herself, “which way now?” She had gone ‘right’ last time and ended up in Seth’s bedroom, so she tried ‘left’.

  Though a wall sconce was lit here and there, there were plenty of shadows and she hugged them like old friends. At the end, she found herself in the hall that crossed above the twin staircases and led past the portrait gallery. She smiled. Familiar turf at last.

  Staying close to the wall, she crossed the open area above the stairs, praying with every step that no one would head her way. Through the rail, she caught glimpses of people milling about in the entry hall below. Mrs. Bently and Johns were there and she wondered what their role was in all of this. There was no one she could trust except Grey and Zack. But, if Allyn’s signal actually worked, maybe help was on the way. It was a lovely thought and she clung to it.

  She passed the row of family portraits with their insipid, hostile, vacuous, arrogant and lecherous stares frozen in time. Grey had seen her looking at him before, maybe...just maybe...he would see her again. Suddenly, his portrait loomed over her and she was struck again by his power and savage beauty. A strange tingling awareness shot along every nerve path and her mouth went dry. He was magnificent and her body ached with remembrance. “Grey, can you hear me,” she managed to say. “I’m ogling as hard as I can, which is not a hardship believe me. I need help...your help. Please come to me!” A door opened down the hall and she flattened herself against Grey’s portrait, as she waited to see which way they would come. To her infinite relief, they headed in the opposite direction, but her heart was still pounding madly, when she felt a tug on her hair. She looked up into his gray eyes and he smiled, then stepped down from his painting...a trick he took some pride in. In a purely feminine gesture, her hand found the curl he had touched...the very one stiff with horse spit... and she smiled wryly.

  “I was worried about you, lass. What is wrong here? I could feel it all the way to the castle.”

  “It’s Charlie, my sister. Seth has taken her...you know...the big guy that owns this place? Allyn is trying to signal a boat offshore for help. Zack’s here, but I don’t know where. He’s undercover and........”

  Grey smiled and tilted up her chin. “Steady, lass. Seth Marley is an evil man and we need to find her at once, but this Zack? Just what is he to you?”

  “A friend...and maybe more than that to Charlie. He can help if you can find him and let him know what’s happened. And I want to come with you.”

  “I can travel much faster without you,” he told her with a smile, “though any other time I would welcome your company.”

  “I can keep up. My ankle is healed and I can be a real help to you, I know I can.”

  “Can you walk through walls?”

  “Well...no,” she admitted with a sigh.

  He kissed her then, a quick ‘promise’ and nothing more. “Hide and be safe. I will see to your sister.” and with that he vanished. She had no time to think about all the things that kiss stirred up. Someone was coming up the stairs and she looked around, frantically, for a place to hide. Maybe the safest place would be where they’d already looked...her old room... she thought, unknowingly, mirroring her brother’s impulse.

  She took off at a run, staying close to the walls till she reached her door. Holding her breath, she turned the knob. Luckily, it was unlocked and she slipped inside, then leaned against its surface for support. She took a few deep breaths to quiet her racing heart, then crossed to the French doors and looked below. The light in the church tower was gone. Had Allyn's signal been seen? She had no way of knowing. All she could do was wait and pray.

  ***

  Allyn woke with a start and bolted upright, whacking his head on the bottom of the bed above him and falling back to the floor with a groan. Where in the hell was he now, he wondered? And then he remembered. He was hiding in his old room at the manse in the thick of all that was going on. And that was one helluva a lot! He groaned again and smiled ruefully. So much of this was all his fault. He had been thinking with the wrong part of his anatomy, when he met Orianna and now his sisters were in over their heads

  He thought about his last glimpse of both: level headed Charlie carried off and loaded like a sack in Seth’s Land Rover and Meg...klutzy, irrepressible, there’s ‘good in everyone’ Meg...clinging like a tick to the back of a pickup truck as it bounced up the hill. Where were they now, he thought, wondering how long he’d been asleep... or passed out...he wasn’t sure which.

  Crawling out from under the bed, he worried that a creaking floorboard in a supposedly empty room would betray him, as he, stealthily, made his way to the window. Below, lights moved about the mausoleum and powerful beams swept the front of the church. He had no way of knowing if the new arrivals were friend or foe. He smiled wryly, as he wondered what were the chances he had actually done something right? His track record, unfortunately, shouted more than spoke for itself.

  As he watched, half a dozen or more men in dark clothes spilled out of the mausoleum and hurried through the tall grass. They seemed to be headed for the manse and Allyn waited, scarcely breathing, for what would happen next.

  A loud banging on the front door, ended his wait. Moving quickly across the room, he opened the door and listened. Angus’ voice carried easily through the cavernous stone building. “Who ar ye and whit do ye want this time of nicht wi’ me an mah wife abed?”

  Tilda of the mutters and dark looks was his bride not his housekeeper? Allyn smiled in spite of himself, as he listened to the stranger’s reply. “We just want to ask you a few questions. We are with Interpol....”

  The rest of what he had to say was lost as Angus said angrily, “And ye’d be botherin’ a puir mon of God with sech? Shame on ye and those wi’ ye! Nou away ye gang!”

  “As we said...we are here to ask you some questions. We boarded a boat offshore tonight engaged in drug smuggling and human trafficking. We’ve arrested those we’ve found so far and choppers are on the way to help with the sweep of this whole area, including the manor. We want to know your involvement and, since the entrance from the cove below is so close to this place, we find it extremely unlikely you were unaware of what was happening literally under your very nose.”

  Angus sputtered in outrage and Allyn heard Tilda join the conversation. “Mah husband is a guid mon...a mon of God, who tends his flock an’ his own business. We are auld and heared naething once we are abed. Leave be wi’ your bleth
erin’ an get ye gang.”

  The newcomers seemed to hesitate, but Allyn didn’t. He was down the stairs at a run. The man in the doorway swung his light full in his face and Allyn threw up his hand to shield his eyes. He heard Angus’ expletive of surprise and smiled as he told the newcomer, “I’m Allyn Ravynne. I sent the SOS, if that is what brought you here, and this man and his wife are up to their phoney brogue in all of this.”

  Cursing, Angus made a dash for it, but Allyn tripped him as he passed and he landed heavily on the stone floor. Tilda got as far as the kitchen before she was nabbed, cursing quite loudly in a language Allyn didn’t recognize.

  The leader of the men pouring through the door introduced himself. “I’m Agent Masters....Interpol. Have you seen Zack? He’s here undercover and we expected to hear from him sometime tonight. Instead, we saw your signal and knew something was definitely not right.”

  Allyn offered his hand. “I haven’t seen this Zack, but Seth Marley, the guy who runs this operation, has both my sisters...well one for sure and the other is only a strong possibility. I’ve been drugged and out of it for sometime. His daughter, Orianna, has kept me as....well as... Anyway, she’s as crazy as they come and has a dog the size of a pony who loves to kill.”

  “Can you get us close to the manor without being seen?”

  “I’m not sure. I can try, but he has a lot of men up there and from what I’ve seen he pays them well to keep people like you away.”

  Agent Masters laughed wryly and signaled to his men. "Sounds like all the makings of a good time to me! Let's get going."

  ***

  Zack cursed loudly, as his legs failed to support his weight again and he tumbled back onto the bed. He had lost track of how many times he’d tried, but the returning sensation wasn’t returning fast enough! He had promised to help Charlie and her siblings, but instead he’d allowed himself to fall for the oldest trick in the world and ended up lying like a landed trout unable to do more than flop around. He stretched his arms and flexed his fingers...they worked...it was his legs that were slow to return.

  He pulled himself back to a sitting position and raked his hand through his black hair that was tinged with silver at the temples. Maybe he was getting too old for all this. Only the greenest rookie would have blundered as badly as he had, but beating himself up for being a fool wasn’t helping much. Help was so close. If he could only figure out how to signal the boat offshore, where Jeff waited with two dozen men. “Dammit, Charlie,” he swore. “You’d better be all right...some place safe like I told you...or when I get my hands on you I’ll wring your bloody neck!”

  He felt the hairs on the back of his own neck stir and knew he was no longer alone. Someone was in the room with him, though how they could have gotten through the door without being seen was something he couldn’t begin to imagine. Yet there it was. He was not alone.

  He tried to stand and his legs held briefly, before they buckled and he fell back to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “Whoever you are, come out where I can see you,” he called looking around the dark room. “I mean it. Come out or I’ll....”

  Someone laughed. It was a man’s laugh...deep and genuinely amused. “And you will what? You can hardly stand mon let alone do me harm.” A figure stepped out of the shadows, casting his own light about him. He was a tall, black haired Highlander dressed in his kilt and plaid with what looked like a two-handed claymore strapped to his back, though Zack had to admit he was no expert in Highland weaponry. “Who in the hell are you?” he asked in astonishment.

  The visitor grinned wolfishly. “I am the Laird of Blackcreag...the Keeper of Bluid Castle...Grey MacMorley and you?”

  Zack grimaced and then laughed. He had learned to believe in almost anything since he’d managed to get himself involved with the Ravynne sisters…ghosts included... and this guy sure looked like one! “Zack Mallory. What are you doing here, if I may ask?”

  The Highlander propped one foot up on the edge of the bed and studied the man in front of him. “Meg sent me to find you. Her sister is being held captive by the man who has laid claim to this manor and all else.”

  “Seth Marley.”

  “So he calls himself now. But somehow I think he had other names, though I dinnae ken what they be.”

  Like he hadn’t known that already, Zack thought wryly. Seth Marley had lived all over the world under a slew of different names, though his origin was unclear. Beyond a certain point, nothing about him was ever found...at least nothing that seemed even remotely credible! “Just how did you get in here,” Zack found himself asking.

  “I walked through that wall, how else?”

  “Then you are a ghost?”

  His visitor laughed with real amusement. “Among other things. Now get yourself up mon and off we will go.”

  Zack grinned crookedly. “I can’t walk through walls. It seems I can’t walk at all at the moment.”

  “I can aid you with that. A guard is posted outside and your door is locked up tight.”

  “I can take care of the last part if you’ll help me over.....”Before he could finish what he was saying, he was jerked to his feet.

  “You have no time to nurse your ills like an old woman. Use me as a crutch and we will see this done,” the Highlander told him tersely.

  Zack muttered one of his better oaths and grabbed onto what was a surprisingly solid arm. He lifted one leg and put it down and then the other, surprised to find he was well on the way to actually walking. “I’ve got a pick lock in my pocket, if they didn’t find it when they hauled me up here. Yep...here it is. Now if you can help me over to the door and steady me there, I’ll have it open in a jiffy.”

  It took a bit longer than a ‘jiffy’ but he did spring the lock without making too much noise. Opening the door carefully, he took a quick look outside and was surprised to see the Highlander already there, claymore in hand, standing over a man lying on the floor. “You didn’t....?” Zack asked, raising one dark brow.

  “Nae. I conked him with the hilt and he went down like a sack of grain. You might as well call me by my name now that fate has seen fit to throw us in the same camp.”

  “Okay...Grey it is. I’m going to haul this guy back inside my room and lock the door. From the looks of him, he should stay quiet for a while,” he said as he pocketed the guard’s gun. Working together, they dragged the guard inside, bound and gagged him with strips torn from a sheet, then relocked the door. “Do you know where he’s likely to have her?”

  Grey’s eyes flashed and suddenly the amiable Highlander seemed a very dangerous man. “He has a place others have told me about....”

  “His opium den/brothel...been there already, but I’m not certain I could find my way back.”

  Grey smiled strangely. “Stay close to me. We must be very careful with you. Being mortal and alive has certain disadvantages.”

  Zack searched the eyes of the man before him and measured the pain he found there. “And I imagine the opposite is also true. Being dead does not bring an end to what troubles you.”

  Grey’s eyes narrowed and his smile turned self-mocking. “So it would seem.” In turn, he studied the man before him...strong wiry build...canny and sure of himself. He was moving well now and would be either a powerful ally or a deadly enemy....especially where his heart was concerned. This man cared for Meg’s sister. He could see his pain in his eyes. The kind of pain he knew all too well.

  CHAPTER TEN

  She felt a curious lethargy steal over her...a languorous warmth and knew she must have been drugged. But how? She hadn’t taken anything by mouth and, if they had injected her with something while she was unconscious, it should have taken effect long before now.

  Seth watched her struggle to maintain control over a body that was, slowly, not responding. “You’re wondering why you feel so enervated. You...Charlie Ravynne...who prides herself on being in control must feel sadly at a loss now that your beautiful body does not want to obey you. You must tru
ly hate feeling so deliciously compliant....”

  “Hardly that,” she replied as off-handedly as she could manage, when she knew he was only too right.

  “So malleable,” he continued with a smile.

  “Or that either.”

  “Orianna’s mother, in addition to being totally mad, was an herbalist of prodigious skill...quite possibly a witch. In another time, she would have been burnt at the stake.”

  “We have one of those in our family...my step mother... and she would never harm a living thing,” Charlie replied pointedly.

  “Orianna has her mother’s skills and loves to harm living things if it suits her purpose. Or mine. You enjoyed your warm, fragrant bath with Orianna’s own special mix of herbs that are easily absorbed through the skin and here you are, limp as a rag. She also used her skills on Quinn who played the gallant at dinner and now lies helpless in his own bed after, she added a little something to his wine.”

  Charlie wouldn’t let him see how much his words distressed her. Her best...and only weapon...was indifference so she yawned. He was watching her closely, as he continued. “In case it’s slipped your mind, he was your lover a short time ago, though I doubt he bothered to introduce himself. I haven’t harmed him permanently only because he may be a very useful client.”

  “For your trade in human beings? Women to use as....”

  “Not just women, but they tend to have the most uses...sex slaves or slave labor...whatever the market demands and believe me when I say that business is very lucrative...especially in your country.”

  “So you kidnap these women from their homes?”

  “Sometimes they’re picked up off the street, but usually we set a trap. One of my associates puts an ad in the local paper...say in the Ukraine...‘Looking for domestic...good wages, must be able to travel, etc.’ and they turn up looking for a better future.”

  “And you give them a living hell,” she said acidly.

  He laughed in genuine amusement. “Still struggling for control, I see. I smuggle them in all over the world...girls...women...young men and boys without papers and no one to ask questions back at home. I make sure none of them have people who have the money or influence to ever find them. Of those that come through here, I usually keep one or two for a time to serve my own needs...or Orianna’s. They’re kept here until they are dead or no longer satisfy us.”