by Lynsay Sands
“But they still have a hunger for blood, dinnae they?” Bridget had suspected as much, but she was not sure how she felt about it.
“Not as they used to. The Purebloods prefer verra fresh meat, but ye ken that. Most of the time they are content with what they can get from an animal. Dinnae drink the wine they mix especially for themselves,” Mora said with a smile. “They will occasionally have a wee taste of each other if the need arises. If they are verra badly injured or weakened, ’tis the surest way to make them strong again. It can e’en save their lives. I dinnae have much to do with the Purebloods save for a few like Jankyn, but I can swear that they dinnae go about dining on people anymore. An enemy or someone like those thieves who were hunting ye down are fair game, however, and they do take full advantage of that. Used that way, weel, ’tis verra much like just another weapon, isnae it?”
Bridget slowly nodded. “Aye, one could think of it that way, I suppose. As for the odd diet, weel, I already accepted the barely seared meat, so I believe the rest willnae trouble me so verra much. Tis much the same fare as we eat, save that we cook our meat a wee bit more and put the other, er, bits into puddings and stews.”
“But, ye are troubled about the bite, arenae ye?”
“A wee bit. I shall have to think about it. One doesnae protect such a vulnerable spot all one’s life then turn about and offer it to someone with ease, e’en if that someone is the mon ye love. Then again, I do love him so I should trust him to do it without harming me.”
“Tis a hard thing to decide.” Mora finished her cider, then stood up even as Bridget finished hers.
“It might be easier if I was certain he loved me as I love him,” Bridget said as she stood up.
Mora hooked her arm through Bridget’s and started to walk her back outside. “He wants to mate with ye, lass.”
“Tisnae the same thing. At least nay in my mind. Mayhap I need to consider that as weel. Of course, we didnae do it on our wedding night, so mayhap it doesnae matter any longer. Mayhap it wouldnae work.”
“Of course it would work. Tis just tradition to do it on one’s wedding night.”
They reached the outside where Jean still waited. As Bridget chose the cloth she wanted, she found herself a little surprised at the ready acceptance the village women showed her. She had to wonder if, even though she was the laird’s wife, she was still seen as one of theirs. It would not surprise her to discover that her husband had considered that as well. Instinct told her that when Cathal made a plan, he was meticulous about it. She was probably the only part of his grand plan that had not been plotted out most carefully.
But a few feet from the castle gates, Bridget abruptly stopped. She had been considering what she should or should not do about the bite. Once she had recovered from the shock over what Mora had told her, Bridget had discovered that she was not as troubled by it as she had supposed she would be. If she was going to allow it, however, she wanted it to be a somewhat special occasion, rather like a second wedding night. It was a wonderful plan and she had just begun to sort it all out in her mind when she recalled one very important possibility she had not considered.
“Mora, I have but one more question,” Bridget said, her gaze fixed upon the high, dark walls of the keep.
“Then ask it, m’lady. I have told ye all I ken about the matter, but I might still be able to help ye.”
“Ye say he will take but a wee sip, aye?”
“Aye. Tis what Jankyn said. Although, his idea of what a wee sip is could be a great deal different from ours. He was most firm, however, in saying that it willnae kill ye. Could be a wee sip quickly over and finished with, or could be one big enough to leave ye a wee bit unsteady for a few days. It was ne’er really a fear of dying that made me refuse to be a part of it. I did, and do, believe in Jankyn’s word that it willnae kill ye.”
“But could it—” Bridget grimaced and forced the question out. “Weel, if I was with child, could it harm the bairn?”
Mora clasped her hands together and pressed them against her large breasts. “Oh, m’lady, do ye think ye might be carrying? So soon?”
The absolute joy upon Mora’s face made Bridget realize that it was not only Cathal who was eager for the return of children to Cambrun. “My woman’s time is nearly a fortnight late in coming.”
“It could be late for many reasons, m’lady,” Mora said. “A change in your food, and, weel, ye are but newly wed, and then there is all this trouble with the Purebloods. Oh, so many things could upset such a thing.”
Mora was trying so hard to dim her own hopes it was almost painful to watch. “Nay, Mora, I dinnae believe it is any of those things. Callan women are verra precise, shall we say. I have always been so. Callan women are also notoriously fertile.” She grimaced. “It wasnae something I felt inclined to tell Cathal when he seemed to be marrying me for my womb.”
“Och, lass, I think ye ken there is more, aye?”
“Aye. I am just nay sure how much more. But, what about letting him give me this bite whilst I am with child?”
“Ye will have to tell him first. He will ken what to do or not to do. When will ye tell him, m’lady? Soon? Oh, ’twill be verra hard to hold fast to this news for verra long. That is why ye bought all that lovely linen, isnae it?”
“Aye, it is. And, Mora, ye had best hold fast to this secret,” Bridget said, trying to sound very firm.
“Oh, I will, m’lady. I will. The laird must ken it first, from ye, and nay from gossip. The mon will be wanting to make a grand announcement and all. I suppose ye will have to wait until ye have missed your woman’s time again, and, mayhap, a third time just to be sure.”
Bridget sighed as she started on her way again, Mora nearly skipping along beside her. “I will ken for sure in about a fortnight for I will have missed a second bleeding. There will be no doubting it then. In truth, I have no doubt now, but I will wait the fortnight ere I tell Cathal. I want that time to try and become more certain in heart and mind that I truly am more than a womb to the mon.”
“I think ye are, but I understand that ye need to believe it.”
When they reached the steps leading up to the heavy doors of the keep, Bridget felt Mora take her by the arm as if to help her up the steps. Bridget silently cursed as she realized why Mora was doing that. She had the sinking feeling that her pregnancy was going to prove to be a very long one indeed.
Nine
Cathal smiled at Bridget as she entered his ledger room. He felt his body tighten with interest as he watched her walk toward him and almost laughed. After six weeks of making love to her every chance he got, he was a little surprised at his own greed. She was a fever in his blood which was both a delight and a torment. He saw her passion as a glorious gift, but he needed more. It was also getting harder to stop himself from performing that final act of mating. He craved it more than he had suspected. Indeed, he had hoped it was one of the MacNachton traits that had been bred out of him. Unfortunately, the need was there and growing stronger every day, yet, each time he tried to tell her about it, cowardice silenced him. He feared bringing a look of disgust, even a chilling revulsion, into her lovely eyes.
Shaking away that concern, he waited until she got close enough, then tugged her down onto his lap. “I am pleased ye sought me out, wife, but, truth tell, I was about to send for ye.”
“Oh, why? Is there trouble?” Bridget wondered if the peace they had enjoyed was about to end.
“Nay, all remains quiet. I thought ye might wish to see what your cousin and your brother replied to my letters.”
Bridget cautiously reached for one of the two letters he pointed to. She was pleased to see that it was the one from Barbara. It would take her a few moments to build up enough courage to see what Duncan had to say. Barbara’s letter soon had her smiling. She could almost hear her cousin’s voice. Feeling warmed by Barbara’s expression of concern, her hearty congratulations on the marriage, and an insistence that they must visit soon, Bridget set the letter
down and warily picked up the one from her brother.
“Tisnae so bad,” said Cathal. “Ye act as if it will singe your fingers. There is a hint of anger in there, but ’tis directed at me, as is just.”
“Oh, dear,” muttered Bridget as she read the letter. “He means to visit soon.”
“Aye. I cannae refuse him, lass. I dinnae believe the Purebloods will cause trouble and he isnae arriving on the morrow, is he. Who is this Effie he says will be with him even though he means to tell her she cannae come?”
Bridget smiled as she set the letter down. “My younger sister Efrica. She is just turned sixteen. And Duncan is right. He will tell her she cannae come, but she will find a way to do so.” She frowned. “Are ye sure it will be safe for them to come here?”
“Aye, e’en if I must seal the Purebloods in their caves. But, I truly dinnae think there will be trouble. The Purebloods dinnae want the eyes of the Outsiders turning too keenly upon Cambrun, do they. Naught would cause that to happen more swiftly than doing harm to an Outsider laird. Unlike ye, who was left alone and brought here in the night, your brother’s presence here will be no secret to his people. Questions would be asked if he didnae return to Dunsmuir, more Outsiders would come here, and so forth.”
“Of course. Doing any harm to such a visitor would bring more trouble than it is worth.”
Cathal began to slip his hand beneath her skirts. “So, why did ye seek me out?”
Slipping off his lap and grinning at his frown, she replied, “To ask ye to come with me, to tryst with me beneath the stars.”
“Intriguing. Isnae that the sort of thing one does beneath a full moon?”
“Aye, but the weather wasnae so verra fine then. Tis still quite light out and I have a few lanterns. I also have some verra fine wine, sweet cider, honey cakes—”
“Honey cakes?”
Bridget giggled when he stood up and took her by the hand. “The honey cakes turned the key, aye? I think my vanity has just been dealt a mortal wound,” she drawled as she led him out of the ledger room.
“Ah, lass, ye wouldnae ken what vanity was if it stomped up to ye and twisted your wee nose.”
“Was that a compliment?”
They continued to tease each other as Bridget led him out of the gates of Cambrun. He soon realized where they were headed and silently commended her choice. Cathal had just noticed the flicker of light when he heard the rustle of movement through the small grove of trees where he and Bridget walked. He tensed and settled his hand upon the hilt of his sword.
“Did ye hear that, lass?” he asked.
“Aye, ’tis just Mora and David leaving. I wanted everything to be readied for us and they kindly offered to help. Oh, my, they did do a fine job.” Bridget smiled with delight as she looked around the small glade, the light of the moon and the lanterns adding a certain magic to it. “Tis a wonder to find such a place amongst the rocks.”
“Tis a hint of the promise of the valley below.” Cathal crouched by a small pool and lightly swirled his fingers in the cold water. “One of my ancestors made it more than it was when he found it. From his writings, I gather ’twas but a brief break of lusher growth amongst the rocks, stunted trees, and prickly bushes. He had this pool cut to hold some of the water which trickles out of the rock and continues down into the stream in the valley. Where there was a break in the rocks, he brought up dirt from the valley, widened the break, and replaced gnarled or prickly growth with something a wee bit softer.”
“Ah, and thus gave himself a wee piece of the valley closer to the keep,” Bridget said as she sat down on the blankets that had been spread out on the ground. “Tisnae all rock and thin, gnarled growth upon your hill, Cathal. Your keep sits square on the barest, rockiest part, but there is green enough about to soften the rest. And, weel, stone does have its own beauty, doesnae it?”
He sat down beside her and kissed her cheek before grabbing one of the honey cakes set out with the rest of the food in the center of the blankets. It pleased him that she could see the beauty of Cambrun. Visits from Outsiders were few, but all of them recognized the fertile beauty of the valley while seeing only the harshness of the keep and the land it sat upon. They saw its value as a stronghold, and little else. Bridget’s appreciation of the subtle, often hidden beauty of Cambrun also meant she could be content with the home he offered her and that soothed a fear he had not fully realized he had suffered.
“E’en the keep itself is quite beautiful,” Bridget said, then cast him a slightly wary glance. “A few lighter colors might be nice, though. To ease the darkness?”
“If it pleases ye to change a few things, do so. Tis your home now.” He poured himself some wine and took a sip. “Aye, now that I think on it, ’tis a fine idea. The darkness of the keep is too noticeable, isnae it. There are few visitors, but they have all remarked upon it. It might be best if it wasnae quite so obvious. Such things stir questions, a curiosity, and we need no more of that.”
“It was one of the first things I noticed. I ken ye must have the darkness, if only so that all your clan can feel welcome, but one doesnae need to bare all the windows to bring a wee bit of light into the place.”
Cathal set down his goblet, pulled Bridget into his arms and kissed her, too moved by her words to speak. She understood. Even more important, her words revealed an acceptance of the MacNachtons that was far more complete than he had realized. She was a creature of light and he had begun to feel guilty over forcing her to share his dark world, but she offered no complaint. Instead, she sought a way to give them all what they needed, a lightness for herself without truly stealing away the shadows he and his brethren needed. It was all more than he had dared hope for and he felt almost frightened by so much good fortune.
“I thought ye came here for the honey cakes,” Bridget said a little breathlessly as he began to undress her, warming each newly revealed patch of skin with his heated kisses.
“I suddenly had a hunger for a sweeter, hotter honey,” he said, his gaze fixed upon her lithe body, her skin turned quite golden by the soft light, as he shed his own clothes.
Bridget was glad he wore only a shirt and his plaid for he was quickly just as naked as she was. She welcomed him into her arms with a murmur of appreciation as his flesh met hers. Although she had planned to discuss the mating Mora had told her about, she decided it could wait. They had all night.
His kisses and caresses soon had her feverish with need for him. She tried to stir him to an equal need, but he neatly eluded her attempts to touch him in all the places she now knew could rend his control. When he lightly but firmly pinned her hands to the blanket, she hissed in frustration, but also felt a shiver of excitement run through her. She then tried to caress him with her body, but he proved adept at thwarting her in that, too. When he ceased feasting upon her breasts, the night air both chilled her and added to the ache he had left behind. The kisses he spread over her belly soon warmed her, however. He gently nipped the inside of each of her thighs and she opened to him, but, instead of the anticipated touch of his long fingers, she felt the heat of his mouth. She briefly tensed in shock at such an intimate kiss and tried to pull away.
“Nay, lass, dinnae deny me,” he said. “Here is the honey I crave the most.”
With but a few strokes of his tongue, he banished her uncertainty, replacing it with ecstasy. When she felt her release at hand, she cried out for him to join her, but he ignored her pleas, taking her to those dizzying heights with his mouth. She was still trembling from the strength of her release when he thrust himself inside her. There was a wildness in him, but she welcomed it. It stirred an equal wildness within her and her passion soon rose again until her cries of completion blended perfectly with his. For several moments she could do no more than hold him close, stroking his back with unsteady hands, but with the return of her senses came the sting of embarrassment.
Cathal smiled and kissed the blush that had started to spread across the breasts he nuzzled. “Now, lass, d
innae spoil the enjoyment we can share by getting all shy and modest afterward.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss on the mouth, then rose from her arms.
Although she agreed with him, she still felt a lingering embarrassment as she tugged on her shift. “I am nay accustomed to such abandonment,” she murmured.
“Ah, then I have obviously failed as your husband,” Cathal began as he donned his plaid.
“Aye, as her husband, but nay her mate. Ne’er her mate.”
Bridget watched in horror as Edmee appeared out of the shadows. She barely finished blinking in surprise when she saw the woman toss Cathal aside. He slammed into a large boulder at the far side of the glade and sank to the ground. Certain he was dead, Bridget flung herself at Edmee. The woman screamed in fury and pain as Bridget tore at her with her nails. A cry of frustration escaped Bridget when Edmee finally got a firm hold on her. For one brief moment, as Edmee lifted her up, they were face-to-face.
Edmee’s eyes widened and Bridget knew what she saw. She gave the woman a feral smile and then twisted her body in an attempt to break free of the hold the woman had on her. Edmee quickly adjusted to the move, holding her even tighter. Knowing what was going to happen next, Bridget grasped two handfuls of Edmee’s hair just as the woman threw her. She savored the scream that escaped Edmee as that hair tore free, then she rolled herself into a ball in a desperate attempt to protect her womb from the fall that was coming.
When she hit the ground, she felt as if all the air was abruptly yanked from her lungs and pain exploded in her head, but she found most of her fall cushioned by a thick growth of heather. Tossing aside the gruesome trophies of Edmee’s hair that she still held, Bridget staggered to her feet. Through a haze of pain she watched the woman start toward her and knew she would not be so lucky next time. Then she saw Cathal rise up from the ground, but hid both her surprise and delight from Edmee. Cathal looked as feral as she had ever seen him, his eyes glittering gold in the light, the elegant lines of his face now turned predatory, and his fangs well exposed by his furious, silent snarl. At that moment, knowing he was about to kill this woman who sought to kill her and the child she now knew she carried, Bridget thought him utterly beautiful.
