“I saw the horror on your face, Murdina. Aye, and your fear.”
“Of course ye did, but horror and fear are nay the same as revulsion. For sweet Mary’s sake, I had just seen ye kill seven men all by yourself, and only one of them fell to your sword. I didnae come from a place where all kenned your clan, where whispered tales of ye are common. When Sir Ranald and his men encircled us, I thought we were dead for certain, or captured and wishing we were, and then suddenly ye are leaping about higher than any mon should be able to, snarling, tossing men about as if they weighed naught, snapping necks, ripping out throats, and drinking blood. Ye showed me, in a fierce, blood-soaked way, that those teeth I thought naught but some small oddity amongst your clan were, in all truth, fangs. Then, as I looked at ye splattered with their blood, I actually saw all your wounds heal before my verra eyes!”
Gillanders grimaced. The way she described it, he could understand why she had been afraid. It lessened the sting of the memory of the horror on her face.
“And,” she continued, “did ye just forget what my cursed gift is? Mayhap what ye saw in my eyes was naught but what those men had filled me with when they died. I nearly broke apart from the weight of all their fear and pain.”
“Ye stayed away from me for the rest of the journey here,” he said, although he recognized the truth of what she said, one he had considered that very day but only briefly, while she had sat there trembling, pale, her eyes clouded with emotion.
“Which was but wee more than a day. It took nearly that long simply to shed enough of what those men had filled me with to think clearly.” She started to pace, the strength and turmoil of her feelings making it impossible to remain still. “I didnae ken who ye were anymore. All I could think of was that I had given my innocence to a stranger, a mon who hid himself so weel e’en I ne’er saw the truth. Oh, aye, I sensed a shadow within you, but nay more than that. Certainly nay e’en a tiny hint that ye could leap about like a cat or tear a mon open with your fingernails that became claws right before my eyes.”
She stopped and looked at him. “Once I fought through all the rest, I needed to think and get o’er my anger about that. Ye ne’er warned me, Gillanders. Nay once. One moment ye are the mon who likes to flaunt his chest and makes me blind with desire. The next ye are something else with claws and fangs. But, I didnae run, did I? I didnae flee your side. I still rode with ye to Cambrun, to a keep filled with more of your ilk. And all because ye swore I would be safe there.”
He nearly gaped at her. It was true, and he had been too busy nursing his hurt to see it. She had remained with him. Despite the distance she had put between them for the rest of the journey, despite that lingering glint of fear in her eyes, she had followed him to Cambrun, ridden right into what must have seemed to her like the lion’s den, just because he swore she would be safe. All he had needed to do was give her a little time to speak to the other women, to think over all that had happened, and to understand exactly what he was. Time to be rid of the vicious onslaught of others’ emotions she had suffered that day. He also should have talked to her more. He should have sought her out until her fears eased enough for her to listen to him, and helped her to overcome what had to have been a horrendous burden thrust upon her by her gift.
“I but needed a wee bit of time, Gillanders,” she said. “I grew up in a wee, quiet village, the cherished and weel protected daughter of the blacksmith. I have ne’er e’en seen men fight with swords. There was so much blood that day, men screaming, the stench of death all round me. . . .” She stuttered to a halt when he took her into his arms. “It was ye I was afraid of and yet I wasnae, if that makes any sense to ye at all.”
“It does.” He kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek against her hair. “I saw that look upon your face and believed myself condemned as the demon some call me.”
“Nay, I . . .”
“Saw the horror of battle, the cost of fighting for one’s life, and swallowed the fierce, terrible emotions of dying men.”
“Aye, but what troubled me most was that I felt ye had lied to me in some way.” She looked up at him and touched her fingers to his lips when he began to protest. “Lie is such a harsh word, I ken it. Ye but hid a truth. Have I nay done the same for most of my life? It took me a while to accept that ye did nay more than I did.”
“Ye told me the truth ere ye joined me on the journey to Cambrun. I meant to tell ye my truths as weel. I planned to do so ere ye rode through the gates of Cambrun. If I were a good mon, I would have told ye the truth ere we shared a bed, but I wanted ye too badly to risk ye running away from me.”
“Oh, I have ne’er questioned your desire for me.”
He grinned. “So ye ken it rises anew?”
She did and, as always, it stirred her own, quickly and fiercely. “I do.” She pressed her cheek against his chest, enjoying the sound of the strong beat of his heart. “It awakens my own and strengthens it.”
Gillanders put his hand beneath her chin and turned her face up to his. “Did Adeline tell ye of the marking?” He knew that if he made love to her now he would not be able to stop himself from marking her as his own.
Murdina blushed, silently cursing herself for how easily her fair skin did that. “Aye. She said it didnae hurt. She also said ’tis the mark a MacNachton gives his mate.” She tensed, praying that he was speaking of the mark because he intended to mark her, to claim her as his true mate.
“I have ached to give ye one since the first time we made love.”
“Are ye certain?”
“Verra certain. I love ye, Murdina Dunbar. I suspected I was caught from the first time I looked into those beautiful eyes of yours. The only thing in doubt is whether ye feel the same.”
“Oh, aye, I do. I love ye.” She gave herself over to his hungry kiss, enjoying the ferocity of it and returning some of her own. “I suspected it when I could touch ye and feel only calm,” she said when he ended the kiss. “E’en when ye suffered from some less kindly emotions, they didnae trouble me as those of others do. Beneath it all I could still feel that calm.”
Gillanders knew he could wait no longer to mark her as his own. He swiftly unsaddled his mount, returned the animal to its stall, and then grabbed Murdina by the hand. It was not until he heard her laugh that he realized he was nearly running to the keep. He slowed his pace but not by much, ignoring everyone they passed as he dragged her to his bedchamber.
Murdina did not think clothes had ever been shed as fast as theirs were once they were inside his bedchamber, the door latched securely behind them. When he took her into his arms and tumbled them down onto the bed, their flesh meeting for the first time in far too long, she did not think she could endure it if he spent too much time with kissing and stroking her. She wanted him inside her now, needed him to ease an ache that had been gnawing at her for days. Threading her fingers through his hair as he teased her breasts with strokes of his tongue and soft kisses, she knew she would not be able to play this game for long before she demanded what she needed.
“Love, I dinnae think I have the patience this time,” Gillanders said as he covered her face with kisses. “I need ye now, need to make ye truly mine.”
“I find I am in nay mood to play, either,” she whispered against his ear and then lightly nipped at the lobe.
“Sweet Jesu, I dinnae think I have e’er heard sweeter words.”
Her soft laugh turned into a gasp of pleasure as he thrust inside of her. Her body welcomed him greedily. Murdina held him close as he moved, each stroke deep within her sending her passion climbing higher until she trembled from the force of it. A tightness low in her belly increased until she knew she was close to tumbling into the bliss he could give her. There was a quick, sharp pain in her neck and she fell, crying out his name as pleasure swept over her in waves. A small, still sane part of her heard him cry out her name as he joined her in that fall.
It was not until she felt a cool, damp cloth bathe her between her legs that Mur
dina became aware of her surroundings once again. She opened her eyes as Gillanders walked away to rinse out the cloth he had used on her and quickly bathe himself. He was a beautiful sight to behold, she thought a little besottedly, as he walked back to the bed and slipped in beside her. She murmured with pleasure when he took her into his arms, holding her close and running his fingers through her hair.
“ ’Tis done now, love,” he said. “Everyone at Cambrun will ken that ye are mine now.”
She frowned and touched her neck, surprised by the feel of a small mark upon her skin.” ’Tis a scar already?”
“Aye. When we bite someone, if we lick at the wound afterward, it will heal. We dinnae ken why, but when we bite the woman we have chosen as ours, when we have fully accepted that she is our mate, that mark doesnae fade away as all the others do. If ye allow me to have a wee sip of ye now and then, those marks will fade ere we catch our breath.” He brushed a kiss over her forehead.
“Catch our breath?”
“Weel, unless ’tis done for some dire need, most time ’tis done with one’s mate as part of the loving.”
“Ah, I see. Since I barely noticed it when ye did it this time, I cannae see that I shall object. All it did was make the pleasure e’en fiercer,” she whispered.
“That it does, but we dinnae do it often. It wouldnae do to take too much blood, and the pleasure can be the sort to make ye want it too often if ye are nay careful.”
For a moment she simply enjoyed being held in his arms, savoring the knowledge that this man loved her. Murdina could feel it, knew it would always comfort her. It was a very strange life she would be living now, but she found only happiness in her heart. She had all she could ever want, but there was still one small shadow on that happiness.
“Adeline told me that ye all live for a long time, that your ability to heal so quickly adds many years to your lives,” she said. “I dinnae have that ability, Gillanders.”
“Ye will.” He pulled back a little and smiled at her. “We have discovered that that gift of a long life can be shared. Ye have seen my parents, aye?”
“Aye, your mother was good to come and speak with me several times.” She did not think he needed to know that most of that was to encourage her to hunt down her son and make him mark her.
“My mother is four and fifty years old, and my father is eight and seventy.”
“Nay.”
“Aye, and dinnae look so horrified. My aunt has discovered that, if an Outsider drinks some of our blood, it works in them as it does in us by healing wounds and keeping old age away from the door.”
She frowned, not completely sure she could stomach drinking blood, but then certain she could overcome any hesitation if it meant she could remain at his side for many years to come. “But, I dinnae have fangs.”
“Ye dinnae need them. I can make a wound if ye can abide drinking from me now and then, or ye can drink the potion Aunt Bridgit has made, one so full of rich wine and spices ye cannae taste the blood in it.”
“Oh. Weel, that will do,” she said, and was rewarded with a kiss that had her passion raising its sated head. But, a chilling thought suddenly occurred to her as he kissed her throat, and she pulled away to look at him. “The Laird kens that, doesnae he.”
“We think he might, or will verra soon if we dinnae find him and kill him.” He pulled her back into his arms. “ ’Tis a dangerous time for us, but ye will be safe here.”
“It wasnae my safety I feared for.”
“Ye have seen that I am nay without skill in battle, my love. And our laird rarely asks the mated males to go out ahunting, for the loss of a mate is a verra hard thing for a MacNachton to bear, e’en one who has only wed into the clan. Be at ease. Dinnae allow the fears of what might happen to shadow all we can share.”
“I love ye, Gillanders,” she whispered, brushing a kiss over his mouth.
“And I love ye, Murdina MacNachton.”
“Do I get a wedding?” she teased.
“Aye, and since one of the people who hailed us as I rushed ye up here like a fool blinded with his own need was my mother”—he laughed when she blushed—“I suspicion she has already begun the planning of it.”
“I shall ne’er get used to how all in a keep seem to ken everyone’s business.”
“Aye, ye will, for this is nay like Dunnantinny. This is now your home and your family. We shall have us a fine life together.”
“Even if it proves to be a verra long one? Can ye love the same lass for a hundred years?”
“Easily. For that long and far longer.”
HIGHLAND VAMPIRE
Diana Cosby
This book is dedicated to Eric, Stephanie, and Christopher, my amazing children, who are truly blessings in my life. I want to thank each of you for being who you are, and for your service to our country. I’m proud to be your mom. God bless. I love each of you so much. *Hugs*
Acknowledgments
I am truly thankful for the immense support from my parents, family, and friends. My deepest wish is that everyone is as blessed when they pursue their dreams.
My sincere thanks and humble gratitude to my editors, Alicia Condon and Megan Records; my agent, Holly Root; my critique partners, Shirley Rogerson, Mary Forbes, and Michelle Hancock. Your hard work has helped make the magic of this story come true. A huge thanks as well to Joseph Hasson for brainstorming Highland Vampire with me and allowing the magic of this story to breathe life. A special thanks to Sulay Hernandez for believing in me from the start.
And, thanks to the Roving Lunatics (Mary Beth Shortt and Sandra Hughes) and the Wild Writers for their friendship as continued amazing support!
Chapter One
July 1297
Medieval Scotland
Enter the stone circle.
At the deep burr echoing in her mind, Rowan Campbell whirled. Against the cast of moonlight, she peered between the massive towers of stone encircling a swath of land.
Naked, a lone man lay sprawled on his back within the circle. Black hair was strewn over well-muscled shoulders, the firm slide of skin angling to a taut, lean body, a body designed for war.
Had he spoken to her mind? Impossible.
Long moments passed.
The warrior remained still.
Had he been injured in battle? Or were the men who’d labeled her a witch responsible for his fate? On a shaky breath, Rowan searched the nearby forest for any sign of movement.
Not a breeze stirred or a stick cracked beneath the cloak of the night. ’Twas as if the world had stopped. Nay, stilled, as if under the sway of a greater force.
The air began to pulse with raw, primal energy. Expectancy curled around her, seeped into her pores. Beneath the silvery cascade of the fading moonlight, the man’s body began to shimmer.
Terrified, she stumbled back.
No. Come closer.
Rowan whirled, scoured the night-blacked trees arching toward the sky with ominous intent.
No one.
She’d heard naught but her overactive imagination. Imagination? Nay, being branded a witch and on the run for a sennight would leave the stoutest man on edge. Exhaustion and fear fed her mind.
But neither mattered. If she didn’t escape from the Highlands, she would be caught and burned upon a stake. On a sigh she studied the heavens.
Red ribbons of light streaked the sky like blood, announcing the oncoming dawn.
Weariness weighed upon her like a sodden gown. However much she wished to rest, with danger about, she could not tarry. Rowan tried to turn, but sensation halted her, then tugged her forward. Panic threatened, and she tried to step back.
The force dragged her closer to the timeworn stones erected centuries ago. Columns, Highlanders whispered, that held immense power.
“Release me!” Her cry echoed into the night. Merciful Mary, she was on the run. With her pursuers nearby, only a fool would call for help!
She struggled against the pull, but with her next step, her foot
settled inside the circle of stones. Like a curtain drawn, the air around her grew thick, the silence rich. When she stood in front of the stranger, her body halted. Fighting for calm, she stared at the formidable man.
Morning rays continued to seep into the sky, its growing brightness silhouetting the warrior’s figure. The paleness of his face surprised her, but the hard slant of his cheeks drew her gaze to his mouth, to lips pressed together in pain.
You must aid me to the cave nearby.
She turned to find who’d spoken.
Trees swayed in the breeze, a hawk flew in the distance, but she found no sign of another person.
This was crazy. Rowan tried to step back, but a force dragged her to her knees, drew her hands to encircle the intimidating stranger’s waist. As her fingers skimmed across muscled flesh, a jolt rocked her, awareness so deep it shook her to her core.
No, she didn’t want to do this! She fought against the compulsion, but her arms lifted him.
Without warning, his legs pushed with her. Then he stood at her side.
I must lean upon you.
Rowan refused to think, to analyze the strangeness of this moment. ’Twas a nightmare, one she prayed she’d awaken from posthaste.
Shafts of sunlight slid over the horizon, and the heat within the stone circle swelled.
Move!
At his low growl, Rowan hurried forward, amazed that even though his face was contorted in agony, he kept pace. They navigated through the break within the stones, and the air around them cleared.
Unsure, she hesitated.
To the cave!
At his harsh command, Rowan guided the dangerous-looking man forward, his weight as he leaned upon her increasing with each step. If he passed out, she could never lift him. What was she thinking? If he passed out she could escape!
Paces away from the blackened entrance, his breath left him in a hiss, and the stench of burning flesh permeated the air.
Rowan glanced over, stilled. Beneath the sun’s newborn rays, slices of red clawed the stranger’s shoulder, more pale flesh becoming scorched with each passing moment. God in heaven, what was going on?
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