The moment they stepped inside the keep and Evanna heard the heavy doors shut behind her, she felt the last shred of her strength give out and she began to collapse. Strong arms caught her up against a huge chest. She glanced up and through a fog of pain saw yet another dark, handsome man. A little wildly she thought it might be best for the women of the world if the MacNachton men continued to stay hidden behind the walls of Cambrun.
“I need to be cleaned up ere Berawald comes looking for me,” she told him as he carried her up a flight of stairs.
“Ye worry too much o’er the mon.”
“Nay, ye see he will blame himself,” she whispered, and finally gave in to the pain and weakness that swamped her.
Jankyn stared down at the woman in Raibert’s arms and shook his head. “She kens our Berawald verra weel. He will blame himself. Let us get some women up here and a healer and then go and make sure that fool hasnae gotten himself killed.”
By the time Jankyn and Raibert reached the battle it was over. The bodies of the hunters were already being taken away to be hidden or destroyed, whichever was easier. Jankyn frowned as he saw a rather pale Berawald slumped against a tree.
“Have ye gone and injured yourself?” he asked as he walked up and crouched down in front of his cousin.
“A wee bit,” said Berawald. “It wasnae a good time for me to fight. Nay enough sleep and too much sun. But I won and I will heal.” He winced as Raibert knelt by his side to look at the wound there.
“He still bleeds,” said Raibert and, without another word, bent his neck toward Berawald.
“Are ye certain, Raibert?” Berawald asked, deeply touched by the gesture.
“Aye, ye are going to need your strength.”
It was not until Berawald had taken all he needed from Raibert and was sitting back letting the magic of MacNachton blood do its work that the words his friend had said finally sank into his mind. “What did ye mean when ye said I will need my strength?” He saw the serious expression on the men’s faces and tensed. “Evanna?”
Jankyn caught him and held him still when he jumped up and would have raced to find Evanna. “Where is she? What has happened to her? And where is David?” He suddenly realized that it was strange that neither of them had come looking for him now that the battle was over.
“The boy is clean and fast asleep in a soft bed,” Jankyn said.
“And Evanna?”
“She was wounded.”
Berawald cursed. “How? She should have been far away from the battle.”
“She was. She was just a few feet from our gates when one of those bastards somehow managed to escape the melee, get up behind her, and slash her with a sword.” Jankyn watched all the color fade from Berawald’s face. “Dinnae swoon on me like some frail lady; she isnae dead. Badly wounded, aye, but nay dead. She made us walk her into the keep and be sure ye didnae see that she was hurt, for she feared it would distract ye and mayhap put ye in danger as ye were in the midst of a battle.”
Berawald could still hear the venom that had poured from Duncan Beaton’s mouth as they had fought. Even as his men had died screaming all around him, Duncan’s eyes had continued to gleam with hatred and fury. Berawald knew that, even a little weakened from the sun, he could have disposed of the man in a few quick moves but he had wanted to make him sweat. He had gained a few bloody wounds from the battle, but in the end he had been able to see that insane gleam turn to fear and then he had finished it, doing to the man all he had so feared. He had fed from him. Not enough to heal his wounds, for he had found the taste of the man foul, but enough to have Duncan screaming in terror before he snapped his neck. The price of that grim enjoyment now seemed too high. While he had played his game with Duncan, Evanna had been nearly killed.
“He is doing just what she said he would,” murmured Raibert.
Scowling at his friend, Berawald demanded, “What are ye talking about?”
“She said ye would blame yourself when ye found out she was hurt,” said Jankyn, easing his hold on Berawald but keeping one hand on his arm. “If it is anyone’s fault it is mine. I wasnae watching for an attack so close to the verra doors of the keep and I didnae react fast enough when I saw the mon swing his sword.”
“Nay, I—”
“Ye were in the midst of a battle and had sent her to our doors where she should have been safe. She wasnae. Now, we can all stand here and decide who is most at fault or accept that it was just one of those things ye can ne’er plan for and get ye inside and cleaned up.”
“I have to see Evanna.”
“Ye will as soon as the women are done doing whate’er it is they do. It would also be best if ye were looking less like ye were cut to ribbons when ye do.”
Berawald knew it would be a waste of time to continue to argue with Jankyn, so he followed his cousin into the keep. He bathed and put on clean clothes, even had something to drink, before he made his way to the bedchamber where Jankyn had said they had put Evanna. Afraid of what he would find, he entered the room slowly.
Evanna was lying in a huge bed, pale and asleep. He nodded at Efrica and moved to the side of the bed to brush his hand over Evanna’s forehead. She felt cold, and after listening closely, he realized her heart was not beating with the strength it usually did.
“She is verra weak,” he said.
Efrica moved to his side and handed him a goblet half-filled with wine. “Ye ken what she needs, Berawald. We felt ye wouldnae want another mon to give it to her, nay after we saw the mark ye left on her neck.”
“She isnae going to like this.”
“If ye dinnae do it, someone else will, for I fear she will die without it. And none of us will allow that. She is of MacNachton blood, Berawald. Her and the lad. I have nary a doubt about that.”
“So this should work,” he said even as he bit into his wrist and added his blood to the wine.
“Like a charm.”
“She still isnae going to like this.”
“I am sure ye can make her see the need of it.”
Berawald just snorted with a mixture of amusement and resignation as he lifted Evanna up enough so that she would not choke on the wine as he poured it down her throat.
Ten
Evanna slowly opened her eyes. She frowned, for she had expected to awaken to pain as she had the last time she had been wounded, but there was none. Cautiously, she reached around to touch her back and felt only the remnants of a scar. Had she slept through the healing?
“So ye are finally awake?”
The way that deep, smooth voice made her feel told her exactly who was there and she turned her head to look at Berawald. He sat sprawled in a chair pulled up to the side of the bed and had his arms crossed over his chest. The fact that the very sight of him looking handsome and unharmed had her wanting to yank him into the bed with her, made Evanna realize that she did not even feel weak. She just felt as if she had had a very good night’s rest.
“How long have I been asleep this time?” she asked.
“Just one night.” Berawald waited to see if she would guess what had happened to make her recover so swiftly.
“One night? How can that be? There is naught but a rough scar on my back and I was cut verra badly.”
“Ye were cut more than verra badly. Yet again someone tried to cut ye in half. Ye werenae only because Raibert had already started to pull your attacker away.”
“Then how am I so weel healed? I have ne’er healed that quickly and I dinnae e’en feel as weak as I did from my last wound.” She suddenly noticed that there was a look of unease in his eyes. “What was done to me to make me heal as quickly as ye do?”
He sighed and leaned forward to take her hand in his. “I gave ye some of my blood.”
“Ye made me bite ye?”
“Nay, I put some in a tankard, mixed with wine, and poured it down your throat. Efrica, Jankyn’s wife, said that ye would die without it. Ye were cold as death, Evanna, and your heart was fluttering like some
wounded bird. Efrica also said that, if I didnae do it, someone else would and she felt ye would prefer it to be me.”
She could not argue with that. “And just a wee drink of your blood in wine was enough to make me feel as if I had ne’er e’en been wounded?”
“It appears so. Can ye sit up on your own?”
Checking to be sure she wore clothes and deciding the white linen night rail she had on was decent enough, Evanna braced herself for any pain and sat up. There was not a twinge aside from a slight sense of stretching skin on her back. Shocked, she slumped back against the pillows. Then she suddenly wondered what else drinking some of his blood might have done to her. “It only healed me, right?”
“Ah, I see what has ye frowning now. Aye, it only healed ye. Ye willnae grow very long, sharp teeth like I have, although”—he idly rubbed his shoulder and grinned when she blushed—“I think your teeth are sharp enough already.” The way she scowled at him almost made him laugh, and he knew some of that was from sheer relief that she had recovered so well. “Do ye want something to drink?”
“Just a wee bit of cider, aye. Thank ye.”
As he fetched her some cider, Evanna considered the miracle of her rapidly returned good health. She knew without even testing it that she could get up as if it were any other day and not suffer for it. It was no wonder the MacNachtons lived for a very long time if their blood was so powerful.
“I cannae believe it,” she said as she accepted a tankard of cider and had a long drink. “’Tis as if there is magic in your blood.”
“Your blood, too,” Berawald said as he sprawled on the bed beside her.
“Weel, we cannae be sure of that yet.”
“Aye, I think we can. Efrica said it was so and she has a way of kenning such things. Also, the way just a wee bit of my blood caused ye to heal almost before our eyes was more proof. An Outsider can be helped in the same way, but it ne’er works as swiftly as it did with ye. Jankyn will still search for the true connection in all of his ledgers and scrolls, but none here doubt that ye and David are Lost Ones who have returned to the fold, so to speak.”
For a moment she was overwhelmed with the knowledge that she and David were not alone, but then hard, cold reality set in. She could not stay here when Berawald lived so close at hand. Nor could she live with him just because he felt some passion for her and a sense of responsibility. Now that Duncan was dead it was probably time to cut Berawald loose from the chains of responsibility she had wrapped him in. She did not need to go far away, just off on her own enough so that she did not have to see him every day and know how much she had lost. Or, if she was very lucky, close enough so that he could come and woo her if he felt he wanted to.
“Then I gather it is time for David and me to let ye have your freedom back. We can find a wee cottage near Cambrun. I think it would be good for David to grow up near ones who understand and accept him, dinnae ye? There may be some work I can do to support us as weel. Perhaps ye will allow David to come and visit ye from time to time as he has grown verra fond of ye and—” She shut up when he clapped a hand over her mouth.
Berawald stared at her. When she had first begun to speak of leaving he had felt as if his heart had simply stopped beating. Then he began to listen to her and realized several things. She was babbling and she was not looking him right in the eye. Hope started his heart beating again as he began to think that she was just doing as she thought she ought to. That was followed by annoyance over what he saw as her idiocy. Could the woman not even guess at his feelings for her?
“Do ye truly wish to go away and live on your own with David?” he asked but did not remove his hand, for he wanted a simple yea or nay answer and she could do that by nodding or shaking her head.
Looking into his eyes, Evanna thought she saw something there, something far more than a sense of responsibility or simple manly desire for a woman in his bed. Bracing herself for the possibility of pain, she decided to take a chance that she was right, that he did feel more for her. Slowly she shook her head. One should have the courage to grab for what one truly wanted.
“Good, then ye and David can stay with me,” he said as he removed his hand from her mouth.
Evanna rolled over and pressed him down onto the bed, rather pleased with her strength. It was as if none of the last few weeks of pain, fear, and exhaustion had ever happened. She stared into his eyes and caught that glint of uncertainty she had come to know so well. Berawald was no more sure of himself than she was of herself. Someone had to take a firm stand to untie the knots they were so busily tying. She was in the mood to be the one. By the time he left this bedchamber he would either be pledged to her or he would be finding her a cottage where she and David could live in peace and she could try her best to mend her crushed heart.
“Berawald, tell me why ye want me and David to come and live with ye.”
“I want ye to be my family,” he said quietly, and began to stroke her back, unable to keep himself from touching her.
“That is verra nice, but there is a lot more to being a family than the sharing of a home.”
“There is this,” he whispered, and kissed her, trying to tell her with his kiss all he could not seem to put into words.
“Also verra nice,” Evanna said, not surprised to hear the huskiness in her voice, for that kiss had curled her toes and left her fighting the urge to stop talking and start tearing his clothes off.
Berawald sighed. “Evanna, I am nay verra skilled with women. I havenae had that many in my life and none that I have wanted to come and live with me.”
“And I am heartily flattered by that, but it still doesnae tell me why ye want me to share your home. Is it only for a wee while until ye decide ye cannae abide the company anymore? Is it because David and I give ye peace from all the ghosts? It certainly cannae be because I can cook, as ye dinnae need the food I make. So why, Berawald? If I am to give ye my life, put myself and my brother in your care, I need to ken why.”
“Because I need ye. Because I cannae bear the thought of nay seeing ye when I wake or holding ye as I sleep. Because I want to teach David so many things and listen to ye laugh and hear your voice and hold ye when ye feel sad. Because I love ye.”
Although her eyes stung with tears, Evanna forced them back, for she knew Berawald would not understand that she could cry simply because she was full to bursting with sheer joy. “That wasnae so verra hard to say, was it? I bet it didnae hurt a bit.”
“Nay, but it might start to if I dinnae hear something similar from your lips.”
“Fool.” She kissed him. “I think I have loved ye from the moment I woke up and saw ye. That was why I stayed nay matter what ye did or what ye told me. I am three and twenty and have ne’er had a mon. Did ye think a woman like that would bed down with a mon just because he is beautiful? Of course I love ye.”
She was not surprised to feel him tremble faintly as he held her tightly in his arms. She was trembling as well. Such strong emotion, the baring of one’s heart, should have a profound effect on a person.
“How healed are ye?” he asked in a thick voice.
“I feel as if none of the last few weeks have ever happened. I am rested and strong and there isnae a twinge of pain in my entire body.”
“Good.”
Evanna was not sure who started taking whose clothes off first, but they were soon strewn all over the room. The loving was fierce and fast and Evanna reveled in it. When Berawald ceased his loving on her body and thrust inside her, she nearly screamed out his name. She did it again when her release swarmed over her and she felt that fleeting pain of his bite that only sent her higher. The bellow in her ear told her that he was flying right alongside her.
Berawald stayed deep inside her until he softened so much he slipped out. Still holding her in his arms, he rolled onto his back. He felt the unmanly urge to weep with the sheer joy he felt. Never would he have believed it if anyone had told him that he would find a mate like Evanna. She was passionate,
loving, and beautiful. He suddenly grinned. And she could bite almost as well as he did.
“I am sorry for this,” he murmured as he ran his fingers over the long scar on her back.
She lifted her head from his chest enough to frown at him. “Ye have nothing to be sorry for. Ye werenae the only MacNachton there and yet the fool still managed to get to me. Everything we did once we saw Duncan and his men coming was right. Things just go wrong sometimes.”
“That is what Jankyn said.”
“Weel, he is right. Ye must cease to blame yourself for all that goes wrong, Berawald. Sometimes ye can plan and plot each move until your head aches and something still just goes wrong. Everything that has happened to us since we met has brought us here, together, ready to make a future. Surely, it couldnae have been all wrong.”
“The fact that such danger brought ye into my arms is something I shall never regret. There is one thing I have to tell ye now,” he said, and lightly stroked the mark on her neck.
“Another difference?”
“Mayhap. This bite I gave ye the first time we made love?”
Evanna touched his fingers where they lay across the faint mark. “’Tis odd that it hasnae healed as the others ye gave me did, but I think that may be because I was still a wee bit weak after being wounded and chased halfway across the country.”
“Nay, that isnae why the mark stays. ’Tis what we call the mating mark.” He nodded when her eyes widened. “I couldnae believe I bit ye the first time. We all have better control than that and I had just fed enough to last me for a verra long time. But there is one time when that control can slip and ’tis when we find our mate. Everything within us pushes us to mark our mates.”
“So ye kenned from the first that I was your mate?”
“Obviously.”
“Why didnae ye tell me?”
“I didnae want ye to come to me because ye felt gratitude or even some obligation or mayhap even just the need for somewhere to live. I wanted ye to come to me because your heart demanded it.”
Nature of the Beast Page 9