The thought startled him, for he had not felt that unbridled urge of bloodlust in thirty years, since Grace was born and the compulsion to kill for killing’s sake had eased. The man, whoever he was, must have threatened her or had intentions to harm her in some way. It was the only explanation that made sense. And one thing Phillip had learned over the years to never doubt was his senses.
Without hesitating an instant, he quietly unlatched the kitchen door and ascended the servants’ staircase on silent feet. Moving along the upper hallway, he judged which bedroom belonged to Grace from the positioning of the windows. The soft glow of light illuminating her doorway confirmed what he already knew. Her heavenly scent was discernable by then. He reached for the handle but found it locked. Unsurprised, he removed a slender metal key from his pocket. It worked for most any door. The lock clicked and the door opened.
Grace still stood by the window but turned her head at the sound of the door. Fear was etched in her features. Her beautiful blue eyes widened in surprise upon seeing him. They stared for a moment and then she fairly flew into his arms, but he reached her first.
He grabbed her tightly to him, breathing deeply. It felt like days had passed since he had touched her, when it had been merely hours. She rested her head against his chest and he stroked her hair, weaving his fingers through the soft tresses.
“You came,” she murmured against his chest.
“Grace,” he whispered, pressing kisses to the top of her head. “Something is wrong, isn’t it? You haven’t slept all night.”
“Mary brought a doctor here to examine me, to confirm that I’m insane. They found my dream journal and are using it as proof. They want to take me to the asylum in the morning.”
“And they locked you in?”
“Yes,” a deep voice said from behind the doorway. “To keep her from running to you.” He chuckled, the slight sound incongruous from a man that large. “But it seems we erred in not anticipating that you would come to her rescue.”
The large hulking figure he had spied from the window stood in Grace’s bedroom. Phillip would have attacked him before he even finished speaking if he did not have Grace in his arms. But he did. Her entire body tensed with fear due to this man’s presence and she clung to him. Phillip knew nothing could harm her while he was there, but Grace did not know that. Yet.
“You erred on more than one account, then,” Phillip stated in a commanding voice.
The man ignored Phillip’s comment. His eyes glittered as he stared at Grace. “I gather you are the Lord Radcliffe everyone has been referring to this evening. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Neville Vickers and I can assure you with all medical authority that this woman is a danger to herself and needs proper psychiatric attention. Consider yourself fortunate that you discovered the truth of her mental instability before you rushed into a marriage with her. She is now under my personal care.”
“Like hell she is.”
Doctor Vickers took a small step back at Phillip’s words. Clearly affronted, he took a moment to reassess the situation.
Phillip grinned. The man had no idea what he was up against.
“You need to leave this house now,” Doctor Vickers declared with indignation. “And Grace stays here.”
“No. Grace is leaving with me.” Phillip moved Grace protectively behind his body, holding her hand. She squeezed tightly.
Doctor Vickers shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot let you do that.”
“If you wish to live past dawn, then I suggest you turn around and go back to your room and lock yourself in,” Phillip threatened calmly.
“How dare you come into this house and threaten me?” His eyes narrowed through the wire-framed spectacles.
“Get out of my way,” Phillip commanded.
Doctor Vickers squared his shoulders, blocking the doorway with his bulky body.
Phillip clenched and unclenched his hand. They needed to get out of the house soon. His body thrummed with the urge to rip into the one who endangered Grace’s safety. If he fought with the idiot doctor, the noise would rouse the entire house. On the other hand, he could silence the man permanently without making a sound. He hated to do that in front of Grace, but perhaps she was better off seeing him for what he truly was. A killer. A creature of the night.
A vampire.
Phillip faced her. She looked up at him with worry in her eyes. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry.” He forced her to take some steps back and released her hand. He turned his full attention to the doctor.
“I must insist you leave the premises. Without Grace,” the doctor commanded. Again he gazed at Grace as if she were a tasty morsel he couldn’t wait to devour.
This was going to be a pleasure for Phillip. In an instant, Phillip was behind the doctor and closed the door. The bulky man spun around, but it was already too late. With his back to Grace, Phillip had bared his teeth. As usual, his movements were so fleeting, so skilled, there was no chance for his victim to struggle. Centuries of honing his lethal moves had made him an efficient killer.
The doctor’s eyes widened in horror but he had no time to scream before Phillip grabbed his thick neck and sank his fangs deep within the white flesh.
The hot rush of blood slowly began to slake the thirst in his throat. Soon, too soon, the doctor’s body slackened and slumped to the carpet, completely drained of its life’s blood.
It took but a few silent moments and it was over. Doctor Neville Vickers was dead. With a shaking hand, Phillip wiped his mouth. Slowly he turned back to face the woman he loved, dreading the expression of horror in her eyes he was certain to see when he did so.
Chapter Nine
Grace could not control the wild hammering of her heart and the rush of noise in her ears. Her whole body trembled, but not with fear. Phillip had just killed Doctor Vickers in front of her very eyes. Thrilled that the vile doctor was gone for good, she felt no remorse at all at his passing. She had no doubt what he intended by having her under his “personal care.” Grace was only shocked by the quickness of the act. Perhaps Mary was right. Maybe Grace was full of sin and doomed to hell.
But that was only if she remained mortal.
She sought Phillip’s warm brown eyes. She smiled at him.
He came to her side, pulling her close. There was incredulous relief in his voice. “You don’t loathe me?”
Grace shook her head and touched his smooth cheek with her fingers. How could she hate the man who had spent a century searching for her? Who had killed to protect her? Who loved her enough for two lifetimes? She had loved him for longer than she could remember, for it had always been him. “I love you.”
He covered her mouth in a searing kiss, before grabbing her hand firmly in his. “We have to leave here now, Grace. There is no more time.”
Without hesitation she nodded and followed him. She would follow him anywhere. Her parents had died when she was young. Her husband had left her in a selfish act of cowardice. Her only other relation had just tried to have her sent to an asylum for the insane.
No, Grace had no one left whom she cared for anymore. Her life was with Phillip now.
They fled her bedroom, closing the door on the lifeless body that lay on the floor. On quiet feet they exited the still-sleeping house. Once again the predawn light was shrouded in thick gray mist. Grace realized she had forgotten her coat. Indeed, she had taken nothing with her. Shivering, she held tight to Phillip’s hand. As if he read her mind, Philip removed his black cape and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. Grace breathed in the warmth of him. They hurried through the garden gate and into the narrow alley.
By the time they reached his plush carriage, the rain was falling in a torrential downpour. The carriage took off quickly.
“You know we must leave London immediately,” he said calmly. “They will be searching for us both.”
“I have never lived anywhere but here, so I don’t care where we go, as long as we are toge
ther.” And truly, all that mattered to her was being with the man she loved. Even if he was a vampire.
The smile that lit his handsome face made her heart turn over in her chest.
“We shall make a quick stop at my house, for papers and money, and we’ll be on our way.”
“To where?”
“Paris?” he suggested.
“Why not?” She laughed at the outrageousness of it all.
He kissed her mouth and her blood raced.
“There is one thing we must do first,” she said. “Today.”
Phillip stared at her.
She looked into his dark eyes, wanting nothing more than to be with this man for all eternity. No matter what the cost. She leaned back into the crook of his arm, her auburn curls falling to the side, exposing the soft, white skin of her neck.
“Please,” Grace whispered softly, echoing the words Gráinne had uttered to him a century ago. “Make me what you are.”
HIGHLAND BEAST
Alice knew she would have to let him feed from her. There was no choice. Even if he was not as close to dying as she feared he was, he needed her blood to heal. Between the weakness caused by the sun and the injuries he had suffered, it would take him a very long time to heal enough to travel.
Slipping one arm beneath Gybbon’s head and lifting him up enough so that he would not choke as he fed, she placed her bleeding wrist against his mouth. For a moment his lips remained cold and still against her skin and her blood seeped down over his chin. Alice feared she was too late, that he was already beyond the ability to take what could save him. Then he grabbed hold of her arm and pressed her wrist hard against his mouth.
A heartbeat later, he sank his fangs into her skin and began to feed….
Books by Hannah Howell
ONLY FOR YOU * MY VALIANT KNIGHT
UNCONQUERED * WILD ROSES
A TASTE OF FIRE * HIGHLAND DESTINY
HIGHLAND HONOR * HIGHLAND PROMISE
A STOCKINGFUL OF JOY * HIGHLAND VOW
HIGHLAND KNIGHT * HIGHLAND HEARTS
HIGHLAND BRIDE * HIGHLAND ANGEL
HIGHLAND GROOM * HIGHLAND WARRIOR
RECKLESS * HIGHLAND CONQUEROR
HIGHLAND CHAMPION * HIGHLAND LOVER
HIGHLAND VAMPIRE * THE ETERNAL HIGHLANDER
MY IMMORTAL HIGHLANDER * CONQUEROR’S KISS
HIGHLAND BARBARIAN * BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
HIGHLAND SAVAGE * HIGHLAND THIRST
HIGHLAND WEDDING * HIGHLAND WOLF
SILVER FLAME * HIGHLAND FIRE
NATURE OF THE BEAST * HIGHLAND CAPTIVE
HIGHLAND SINNER * MY LADY CAPTOR
IF HE’S WICKED * WILD CONQUEST
IF HE’S SINFUL * KENTUCKY BRIDE
IF HE’S WILD
Books by Heather Grothaus
THE WARRIOR * THE CHAMPION
THE HIGHLANDER * TAMING THE BEAST
Books by Victoria Dahl
TO TEMPT A SCOTSMAN
A RAKE’S GUIDE TO PLEASURE
ONE WEEK AS LOVERS * A LITTLE BIT WILD
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
HIGHLAND BEAST
HANNAH HOWELL
HEATHER GROTHAUS
VICTORIA DAHL
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
CONTENTS
“The Beast Within”
HANNAH HOWELL
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
“The Vampire Hunter”
HEATHER GROTHAUS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
“Laird of Midnight”
VICTORIA DAHL
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Dear Readers
THE BEAST WITHIN
Hannah Howell
Chapter One
Scotland—spring, 1513
Silence descended upon the forest like a shroud. It was as if all of nature had just drawn its breath in, holding it in fearful anticipation. But of what? thought Gybbon MacNachton. He looked at his two cousins and saw that Lachann and Martyn had gone as tense as he had. They gripped the hilts of their swords just as he did.
“Hunters?” he asked as they dismounted, in a whisper so soft only a MacNachton could hear him.
Lachann opened his mouth but had no chance to reply. A cry as chilling and feral as any MacNachton could make tore through the woods. The heavy silence was shattered. Some animals echoed the fury in that cry while others revealed little caution as they scrambled to flee from whatever made the sound, filling the air with their cries of alarm.
“I believe that was one of the Hunted,” Lachann drawled. “Which way?”
Gybbon knew his cousins had a good idea of where the cry had come from; they only sought confirmation. One of the gifts he had gained from the blending of Callan and MacNachton blood was superior hearing, one even few MacNachtons could equal. A gift that could all too often be a curse, he thought idly as he concentrated. It was a struggle to push aside all the other noises crowding his ears, but he finally caught the sounds he sought. The soft but heavy breathing of hard-run horses, the sharp sound of armor, and even the clear, sleek sound of swords being unsheathed.
“Straight ahead. A short run and we will reach a clearing at the foot of the hills ye can see rising above the trees,” he replied. “There are at least six armed men. The noise the horses are making makes it difficult to be certain. And one other,” he added softly as he heard a soft, low growl. “I believe we have just found one of the Lost Ones.”
“Then we had best hurry,” said Martyn even as he secured their horses deep in the shadows of several old beeches. “I have no wish to have come so close to the prize we have sought only to bury it.”
“Agreed,” said Gybbon. “I go straight. Martyn, ye go to the right, and Lachann, ye go to the left. We halt when we sight our prey and then ye wait for my signal.”
They moved swiftly, and silently, through the trees. Gybbon was not surprised to hear the sounds of animals moving out of their way. Animals recognized predators. The beasts kept at Cambrun had to be carefully raised from birth to accept a MacNachton or a Callan. The MacNachtons’ human allies cared for the animals that were bred for the table.
The scent of blood stained the air as they drew closer to their target. Gybbon had to swiftly cage the beast that stirred within him, its dark hunger awakened by the smell. Every instinct he had told him they had found one of the Lost Ones their clan searched for. If he was wrong, however, the last thing he and his cousins needed was to approach a group of Outsiders with their MacNachton blood running hot and hungry. The whispers about their clan were already too loud. Attacking a few Outsiders who were doing no more than fighting each other with fangs bared and the bloodlust running high would only add to the rumors that got them hunted down and decried as demons.
Gybbon felt anger grow within his heart, an anger aimed at the carelessness of his ancestors. Not only had the MacNachtons of the past done little to hide their dark nature, becoming the Nightriders of people’s worst nightmares, but they had also bred outside the clan. They left behind living proof of their existence but, far worse and unforgivable, they had deserted their offspring, leaving children behind to grow up with gifts they did not understand and that, all
too often, got them killed.
The moment the MacNachton laird Cathal had become aware of the problem, he had sent out as many of his men as he could. Dozens of MacNachtons were on a hunt for the ones they now all called the Lost Ones. Not only did their clan need the new blood the Lost Ones would bring to Cambrun, but the MacNachtons’ greatest enemy now hunted the Lost Ones as well. An ever-growing number of Hunters were on the trail of anyone with MacNachton blood and it had become a hard-run race to see who would find all the Lost Ones first.
As soon as the trees began to thin out, Gybbon signaled his cousins to go down on their bellies. The three of them crept along, barely rustling a single leaf, until they reached the edge of a clearing. Gybbon was idly thinking of how good they were at sneaking up on Outsiders when the clouds suddenly slid away from the full moon and he got a good look at the person facing down eight well-armed men.
They had definitely found a Lost One, was the only clear thought he had for a moment. She was small and looked as if she badly needed sustenance. She was also dressed in rags and needed a bath. Crouched as if prepared to spring at her enemy, she had her small, long-fingered hands held up, long nails that Gybbon knew could easily rip out a throat readied for attack. A snarl twisted her full mouth and exposed her fangs. One man already lay sprawled on the ground between her and the other men. Her ragged gown and pale face were spattered with the wounded man’s blood.
A man of fastidious tastes and habits, Gybbon was shocked by the abrupt, fierce attraction he felt. She was a feral creature, as unlike the women he favored as a thistle was to a rose. Even the Pureblood women of his clan had never looked this feral, this dangerous. The fact that he could not even see her eyes or face very clearly due to the tangled mess of her long, thick hair did nothing to dim the attraction suddenly knotting his innards. He felt his fangs fill his mouth and he knew it was not just because of the strong scent of blood. He wanted to sink them into the woman standing there covered in blood and mud.
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