Read Highland Thirst Online

Authors: Hannah Howell,Lynsay Sands

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #General, #Historical, #Vampires, #Occult & Supernatural, #Highlands (Scotland)

Highland Thirst (14 page)

BOOK: Highland Thirst
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“Nay,
most dinnae e’en ken ye were locked up down there,” said Colin. “Ye were the
laird’s special prisoner and he was seeking secrets for his own use, aye? Nay e’en
for his people, just for him. Nay, the men I be thinking of will be willing to
join ye as long as I assure them that ye are hardworking and nay a cruel
bastard who beats people just to see how the blood runs off their back when he
is done.”

“Fair
enough.”

“They
will also do it to have the lass ruling aside ye.” Colin grinned widely when
Heming gave him a mock glare.

“And
that too is fair enough although I wouldnae go promising that as we dinnae ken
if her father made any such command ere he died. No one seems to argue the fact
that Hervey was the old laird’s heir. Could be because Hervey has hidden a few
truths or could be because he really is the laird.”

Peter
nodded. “True. He could be. But, I dinnae think anyone will complain about who
is the laird so long as it isnae Hervey.” He then looked at Heming and his
father. “How will ye make the journey? ‘Twas easy enough to find ye a place to
tuck yourself away when the sun was high, but I dinnae think we can find that
many hiding places if ye intend to bring such a large host of your kin.”

“Dinnae
worry on that, Peter,” said Jankyn. “We ken how to do it. It may nay be the
fastest way, but it will serve to get many of us there.” Jankyn looked at his
son. “So, do we leave in an hour or do ye wish to wait until the morrow?”

“In
an hour,” said Heming, even as he thought that was far too long to wait.

“I
just had me a thought,” said Colin, blushing when everyone looked at him.

“Tell
me, Colin,” Heming said when embarrassment apparently silenced the man. “Several
times ye have seen something I have missed so I am interested in what ye have
thought about.”

“Weel,
I was just thinking on how ye fought Hervey and his men when they took Mistress
Brona. I am thinking we had best tell the men that, if they dinnae want to die
for Hervey Kerr, they had best get out of Rosscurrach and stay hidden for a wee
while. If your kin fight as ye do, there are some who may turn on ye and yours
in their fear.”

Heming
stared at Colin for a moment before exchanging a look with his father. When
Jankyn nodded faintly, Heming knew his father was thinking just what he was.
Colin might appear to be a genial shepherd, a man with more brawn than wit, but
there was obviously a sharp mind beneath that tangled hair and it would be a
good idea to put such a man, such a loyal man, in a position of authority. If
it turned out that Brona would become the heir if Hervey died and she married,
Heming would certainly keep Colin out of the fields and set at his side.

The
moment Jankyn left to finish a few preparations, Colin frowned at the door and
then looked at Heming. “Is he really your father and the wee lass is really
your mother?”

“Aye
and aye,” replied Heming. “I told ye, Colin, we dinnae age verra fast.”

“Wheesht,
it doesnae look like ye age at all. I thought ye said your mother and the laird’s
wife were Outsiders.”

“Aye,
they are. They are Callans. They do live long lives.”

“Mayhap
they do, but I doubt they dinnae look a day o’er twenty when they are old
enough to have sons your age.”

Heming
just stared at Colin and then looked toward the door his father had just walked
out of, briefly considering chasing the man down and asking a few hard
questions. “I ne’er gave it much thought,” he murmured, looking back at Colin, “but
ye are right. It makes no sense. When she and her sister said they lived long
lives, they meant ninety or a wee bit more, nay long-lived as we are. Weel, the
moment this is settled, I will sit my mother down and try to find out what is
going on. What made ye think on that?”

“I
was thinking of the lass. She isnae a MacNachton and I suddenly worried about
how she may feel kenning she will age when ye dinnae. Not a thing any woman can
think about with ease, I be thinking.”

“How
true. Weel, another problem to solve. Just remind me of it when this is all
done and over. At the moment, I find it hard to recall anything except for the
need to get my Brona away from Hervey and Angus.”

“Then
we had best get moving. We wouldnae want
your Brona
to think ye arenae
going to save her, would we.”

Watching
the three snickering men who were fast becoming his very good friends walk out
of the room, Heming had to fight to resist the strong urge to give each one a
swift kick in the arse.

 

“These
are verra clever things,” said Peter as he ran his hand over the side of one of
the covered carts the MacNachtons used to travel in during the day.

“Aye,”
agreed Heming, taking a drink from his wineskin and handing it to Peter. “One
learns to be clever when one can only see the sun as poison.” Seeing how Peter
very carefully took a sip of wine, Heming grinned. “‘Tis naught but pure wine,
Peter. I wouldnae serve ye the other. I only drink it now and then as I dinnae
have to have any blood for a fortnight or more after I feed. I can go longer,
but it isnae always comfortable to do so.”

“Hurts
does it? Like hunger pangs?”

“Nay.
If one goes too long without, it can feel as if ye have a belly full of broken
glass.”

“Ach,
nasty.” He took a long drink of wine and smiled politely at Jankyn when Heming’s
father joined them. “We made verra good time and I didnae think we would with
the carts and all.”

Jankyn
nodded. “They arenae as fast as one would like them to be, but they mean we can
travel during the day as weel as the night. ‘Tis why we are in but a few miles
of Rosscurrach. All one needs are men who can drive them during the day.”

“‘Tis
hard, isnae it, nay being able to be out in the sun?” asked Peter and then he
frowned and shook his head. “Pardon. That isnae any of my business.”

“‘Tis
nay hard to guess the answer to that,” said Jankyn. “Aye, it can be hard,
especially when one is wed to someone who loves the sun. But, when one has
kenned no other way, one doesnae think about it too often. ‘Tis good, however,
to see that our children begin to ease out from beneath the burden of that.”

“Mayhap
whate’er bairns Brona and I have will be able to endure e’en more of it than I
can.” Heming grimaced. “I can see the good in losing some of what makes us
MacNachtons, but I do worry about losing some of the other things.”

“Like
being able to pick grown men up like they are naught but thistledown and toss
them about?” asked Peter with a grin. “Me, Fergus, and Colin near forgot to
keep fighting just to watch that.”

“Aye,
things like that.” Heming looked toward Rosscurrach and felt his belly knot
with fear for Brona. “Berawald should be returning soon, shouldnae he?”

Jankyn
patted Heming on the shoulder. “Aye, he will return soon and then we shall go
and fetch your mate. Dinnae let her fate prey on your mind so. Think only of
how ye will soon have her back.”

“‘Tisnae
easy. She is terrified of her cousin and Angus. They are both brutal men and
they think she has betrayed them. Angus also lusts after her. Lust and anger
make a verra dangerous brew.”

“We
arenae so verra far behind them, son. And dinnae forget, the lass had the wit
to get ye all out of her cousin’s dungeons, hide ye away, and then get ye out
of the keep. They must also ken that ye will be coming with an army and they
will be too busy readying for that to do much with her.”

“True.
I will try to remember that.” He tensed as he watched a tall, slim man ride
into the camp. “Berawald.”

It
was not easy, but Heming stood silently as Berawald joined them and had a drink
of wine to clear the dust from his throat. Berawald was a slender, almost
beautiful man, with long flowing black hair and deep blue eyes. He always
looked distracted and one quickly learned that was because, to him, the veil
between the living and the dead did not exist. His world was filled with the
spirits of the dead. Heming sometimes wondered if there was something about the
man that attracted those spirits.

When
Berawald fixed his dreamy gaze on Heming, Heming asked, “What did ye find out?”

“Your
lady is alive,” Berawald said, his voice soft, deep, and almost musical.

Heming
went weak at the knees at the news but struggled to quickly regain his
composure. “The keep is weel fortified?”

“Aye
and nay. There are many men on the walls but verra few wish to be there. Fergus
and Colin have already slipped inside and I believe that verra soon the number
of men on the walls will greatly lessen. ‘Tis a verra haunted place, which may
be something ye shouldnae tell your mate.”

“I
wish ye hadnae told me,” Peter muttered, and smiled faintly when Jankyn grinned
at him.

“I
think many of them will move on when Hervey is killed. There are some with a
lot of hatred toward that mon for he is responsible for their deaths. I told
them that men are coming to send the mon to hell so I dinnae think there will
be any trouble from them. Your way in is clear. It hasnae been discovered. Once
the number of men upon the walls thins out, I think ye can slip in unseen.” He
frowned. “I fear Colin and Fergus werenae verra pleased with my methods of
discovering if the way in was safe for them. Colin feels that spirits ought not
to be troubling the living and he didnae want me to tell him who they were as
he said he knew some of the ones who had died in the keep and he didnae want to
ken that they were still lurking about. Said it would make him nervous. Trying
to see him naked or something like that.” Berawald smiled when the men laughed
and then shrugged. “‘Tis safe to go in the way ye came out and that is all that
matters, aye?”

“Aye.”
Heming looked at his father. “How long do ye think we should wait ere we start
to go inside?”

“Give
Colin and Fergus a half an hour and then we will start toward Rosscurrach. It
isnae that easy to convince men to give up their posts and mayhap e’en betray
an oath made to the laird. Thank ye, Berawald. Do ye arm yourself and join us
or has surveying the keep taken too much of your strength?”

“Nay,
I shall go with ye.” Berawald hurried off to arm himself.

Peter
nodded and said, “Best I make sure I am readied for battle as weel.”

The
moment the men were gone, Jankyn looked at Heming. “I ken ye have said Brona Kerr
is your mate, but do ye love the lass, son?”

“Are
they nay one and the same?” asked Heming.

“Nay
always. Sometimes the mating comes first and the love must be nurtured and
grown.”

“Mine
is full grown.”

“Good.
I used to scoff at love until I met your mother. I felt the mating urge ere I
admitted that it was more, much more. I but wished to be sure that ye had
passed beyond the
She is mine
part of it all. When ye do speak to her of
marriage I suggest ye use the love word and dinnae speak only of mates and mating.
Women dinnae see that often, in a mon’s eyes, ‘tis the same. To them the word
mate
reeks too much of the word
breeder
.”

Heming
nodded. “I can see that. Weel, I believe I am all prepared to go, but I think
I, too, will take a moment to be sure. And then we shall go and get my Brona
back so that I can stumble my way into getting her to agree to marry me.”

Nine

Brona
heard someone groan and a moment later realized it was coming from her. She
slowly opened her eyes and looked around. It took a little while for her vision
to clear enough for her to know where she was, as her head was throbbing so
hard she felt as if she would empty her belly at any moment. When she realized
she was in her own bedchamber at Rosscurrach she nearly wept. This was the very
last place she wanted to be.

Memories
flooded her mind. Angus had yanked her out of her hiding place amongst the
brambles. She had tried to fight him but there had been no breaking his grasp.
As he had thrown her over the saddle of his horse, she had seen a bloodied
Heming fighting to get to her. Her attempts to get free to go to him or at
least run away and let him put all of his attention back onto the battle for
his life had ended with a hard punch to the head. If she had become conscious
at any time between then and now she could not remember it.

Was
Heming still alive? She felt her heart twist painfully at the mere thought that
that brief moment when she had seen him fighting to reach her would be the very
last time she ever saw him. A part of her tried to tell her that it was all her
fault he was dead or severely injured but she knew that was just the shock and
fear talking. She had done exactly as he had asked and she had been attacked
from behind. Nor was there any way she could have gotten away from a man the
size of Angus.

What
she needed to do now was push all thought and concern about Heming to the back
of her mind. She was back in Rosscurrach and that meant she was in the hands of
her cousin and Angus. Her cousin probably wanted her dead or beaten to within
an inch of her life and Angus wanted to marry her and bed her. Angus was
probably not very concerned about which came first. The mere thought of that
man touching her made her shiver with revulsion. Brona did not even want to
consider what the man would do to her when he discovered she was no longer a
virgin. Thinking of such things would only make her panic and she knew she had
to clear her thoughts of everything except a way to escape.

BOOK: Highland Thirst
5.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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