James didn’t trust himself to do anything more than nod and smile.
“Having conquered the world and returned to your humble beginnings, how do you feel about the path chosen for your life?”
The image of Cailin’s fire-blue eyes and heaving bosom came to mind and the corner of his mouth turned up in appreciation. However, the frown returned when he recalled the docile lass who poured his beer, and how her mood flipped as easily as the mug she dumped over his head. He said truthfully, “Though I am uncertain about a few facets of my life, I am eager to embark upon such a path.”
MacDougal raised a fiery brow and narrowed his eyes once more, myriad emotions seeming to cross his countenance as he searched James’s face. James speculated a mixture of uncertainty or disapproval, even frightening sparks of anger in his emerald eyes, but Broderick’s squint soon melted into a roguish grin that spread his mouth wide. That rumbling chuckle thundered another round about the room. “Glad to hear it, lad. You still have ambitions to captain a ship?”
James nodded.
“Very glad to hear that!” Broderick took the rolled parchment presented by his wife and handed it to James. “Open it.”
He broke the wax seal and unrolled the stiff paper, contemplating the curves and swirls of the words scratched onto the document.
Broderick chuckled. “’Twould be a waste of a good ship if you had changed your mind.”
Excitement swelled in James’s chest. “These are the papers for my appointment as captain!”
“Aye. She’s still at the shipyard waiting to be christened and launched. We thought to do so at the betrothal celebration. What say you?”
Again, James did not trust himself to speak. His head bobbed and he smiled his agreement.
“Wonderful.” Broderick nodded, then he and Davina shuffled to a dark-wood cabinet against the far wall. She opened the doors carved with delicate scroll work and extracted a crafted mahogany box with a fine luster finish. He withdrew a sword that arrested the breath in James’s chest. She placed the box onto the center table—away from the spilled beer—and retreated a few steps while Broderick faced James. “A captain and Grandmaster swordsman is incomplete without sterling blades at his side. We had these weapons commissioned for you as soon as we received your letter of appointment.” Broderick presented the sword, horizontal.
James reached forward with tentative fingers, his lips parted in awe. “Broderick…Lady Davina… You shouldn’t have—”
“Hush, lad,” his gentle tone encouraged. “You have more than earned it.” James still hesitated and Broderick leaned in, lowering his voice. “You do me the honor as I will never have a son of my own but, as you know, you have been so to me.”
James searched Broderick’s face and found a compassion he once ached to see from his own father, Alistair. His father be damned. James didn’t want anything from him. Broderick was more of a parent to him than Alistair could ever hope to be. MacDougal’s brow creased with sadness, prompting James to smile in an effort to lighten the tension.
“Aye, Broderick…Lady Davina. Thank you.” He bowed to each in turn. With a deep breath, he grasped the sword in his right hand, the scabbard in his left, unsheathing the weapon. The narrow blade swirled with light-and-dark folded patterns along the polished edge. Fading from the swirling metal patterns and to the center of the blade, gleamed a thick layer of shining metal. James swallowed in an effort to find his voice. “Is this actually a Wootz blade?” he breathed in awe.
Broderick’s eyebrows rose and he glanced at Davina’s surprised expression before nodding. “I am impressed you know about Wootz steel.”
“We had heard about these swords at Fechtschulen—blades stronger and sharper than any steel known to man. I even saw such a blade cut a piece of silk dropped onto its edge and would not have believed such a thing had I not witnessed it myself.” James’s eyes worshiped the weapon. “And now I own one?” He studied the shining metal plated along the blade. “Is that silver forged across the surface?”
Broderick crossed his arms and grinned. “Aye.” He winked knowingly at his wife, who grinned with pride.
The weight of the weapon settled comfortably in James’s palm, the grip molding to his hand as if it were crafted with him in mind. Intricate Celtic knots and images etched the silver surface closer to the hilt.
James remembered to breathe.
He gawked at the thumbnail-sized sapphire in the lion-claw setting in the pommel. “A man could get used to carrying a blade like this,” he whispered, near forgetting he wasn’t alone. Snapping out of his love-induced trance, he smiled at MacDougal. “’Tis lighter than the swords I trained with.”
“Aye, that blade will slice through moonbeams.” Broderick laughed.
James stepped back and twirled the weapon through the open space, the blade whistling through the air. “I have no doubt about that, sir!”
Broderick opened the mahogany box and presented two stilettos—matching the sword’s craftsmanship and style. They were also forged of the swirling metal and silver plating.
A twinge of uncertainty pricked his heart and James replaced the sword in its sheath. Setting the fine weapon upon the table, he faced Broderick. “Sir, I do not mean to seem ungrateful, but would care to tell me what you’re asking of me?”
MacDougal raised an eyebrow. “This is the future you planned for yourself. You have achieved great things, James. I dote on those close to me and those who deserve it.”
Hrmm. “You are also a man with purpose.”
Davina’s fingertips covered her suppressed smile. Broderick’s steel gaze locked with James for a long stretch of time before he swaggered to the table and pushed the open mahogany box aside. “I see you find it troublesome accepting gifts.”
Instead of the disappointment James expected on MacDougal’s face, mischief brewed in his emerald eyes.
So, he is testing me. James crossed his arms, rising to the challenge. “I have not had the benefit of being around here for nigh on a decade, growing up instead away from my homeland and countrymen; supported by your generosity, of course. The Holy Roman Empire is excellent training ground for a young man coming into his own, especially at one of the best Fechtschullen in the Kingdom of Germany. As a result, I am no stranger to death…or taking the life of a man.” He paced, arms still crossed, pushing his guilt aside. “I come home to find the woman I am promised to living in a fortress that rivals the king’s and she is well-versed in hand-to-hand combat, with tailor-made sheaths and dueling knives…of silver-plated Wootz blades, no less.” He picked one of the stilettos out of the finely-crafted box, twirling the impressive dagger in his fingers. “And now I am gifted with equally brilliant weapons.” Placing the knife back into its velvet-cushioned home, he faced his future father-in-law. “I am in debt to you for treating me as a son, supporting my tutoring, for the lessons life has taught me, and for the way you continue to bless me with gifts as well as the hand of your beautiful daughter and her handsome dowry—none of which is deserving of my station. You say you leave on the morrow and this conversation could not wait. I know for a fact you do not journey away from home without your family.” He shrugged. “I would venture to say you are asking me to watch over them while you are gone, an honor I humbly accept.” He bowed to Davina. “But…it appears to me they do not need my protection. The real question I have for you, Broderick, is what am I protecting them from that I would need silver-plated blades?” How is that for your test, old man?
Broderick threw back his head and his rich laughter filled the room. Davina’s face gleamed from her bright smile.
James cocked an eyebrow and placed his hands upon his hips.
“Though I have certain advantages you are about to find out, I have impressed even myself in allowing you to wed my daughter, lad.” Broderick bowed before a confused James Knightly. “Again, you have exceeded my expectations. Please sit down. You will need the support.” He stepped before his wife and took her in hand. Broderick
kissed her cheek and ushered her to the entrance of the parlor. “Would you please have Cailin bring in some of our strongest wine for her betrothed?”
Davina curtsied and attempted to leave, but Broderick pulled her into his arms for a hungry kiss that caught James off-guard and gawking. Davina’s face blushed deep crimson and she smiled apologetically to James before smacking her husband’s shoulder. She scampered down the hall and Broderick closed the door with a grin.
James cleared his throat and sat. Returning to the matter at hand, he wondered about the support Broderick had referred to. What the hell is this man about?
Broderick chuckled. “If you would but give me a moment, I will explain.”
His breath caught short. MacDougal’s statement almost sounded as if he heard James speak instead of think. Or had he said his thoughts aloud and not realized it? Coincidental, he thought and settled in to listen.
“Nay, not coincidental at all, young Knightly.” Broderick leveled a piercing gaze, that mischief storming in his eyes. “I would prefer you had some stronger libation at your disposal before I deliver my news, though, so be patient young buck.”
Not giving James much time to be stunned, Cailin stomped into the room with two chalices in one hand and a lead pitcher in the other. Broderick held up his hand, stopping his daughter in her determined tracks. “Lass, don’t make me reprimand you in front your future husband,” her father’s voice was soft and bordering deadly. “Your sour mood will spoil our best vintage.”
Her simmering blue eyes, still glassy with unshed tears, wandered to the unoccupied side of the room, a calming breath pushing the delightful curve of her bosom to swell deliciously over her neckline. Irritation seemed to emanate from her pores and James teetered between sympathy and desire. With a forced smile plastered to her full lips, she slammed a cup before James, poured the rich, burgundy liquid to the rim, and set the pitcher and extra chalice before him. There’s the hellion from the alley!
All the while, she afforded him a generous view of her cleavage and he had to restrain from adjusting his suddenly tightening breeches.
“Will there be anything else, Master James?” Her husky voice oozed annoyance.
Broderick chuckled. “Thank you, Cailin.”
She cast her father another irritated frown from under her brow and sauntered from the room.
Aye, lass, you can ride my aching— James darted his eyes to a disapproving father.
Broderick scowled. “Very wise of you to stop that train of thought, lad.”
James guzzled the smooth wine and poured himself another cup.
MacDougal laughed.
“Though I am not sure I want to hear the answer, how is it you know what I am thinking? Do my actions betray me so much?”
Broderick’s eyes squinted with warning. “Your gaze did not leave her neckline from the moment she walked through the door, so aye…you are very obvious.” He sat before James across the table. “Truly, I am glad you find Cailin attractive. Now that both of you have reached the proper age…” He frowned and sighed. “I personally feel such attraction makes the marriage bed that much sweeter, outside of the other qualities you pointed out when you asked for this union.” He studied the wood grain on the table surface, a pondering expression creasing his brow. “How I know your thoughts, however, has nothing to do with your actions.” Broderick’s eyes locked with James’s. “I adore you as a son, so I impart to you a great secret that will explain many things about this family, about your experiences with us to date.” His brows drew together and his green eyes pierced James with such intensity, he held his breath. “Understand that the safety of my family comes first, so you guard this secret with your life…or I will end it.”
The unwavering steel in his emerald gaze lent no doubt MacDougal meant what he said and James gulped another mouthful of wine. “Aye, sir, you have my word.”
“I’m confident I do, James.” Broderick leaned forward. “I am of a race of immortals called Vamsyrians.”
James raised his brows. “Immortals? Meaning you cannot die?”
“’Tis more than just long life, but aye, ’tis part of immortality and explains why I haven’t aged since you departed to attend your schooling.”
He nodded and studied Broderick’s face. And here I thought he had aged well.
Broderick chortled. “’Tis a benefit, to be sure.”
“And this explains why you know what I’m thinking? Can you actually hear my thoughts?”
“As if you were speaking them aloud. However, as a courtesy to my family and those close to us, I have made a…limited vow of silence, for lack of a better phrase. I can make the effort not to hear thoughts, although emotions tend to linger around some people like a scent.” He chuckled. “With others, it’s more like an odor.”
The corner of James’s mouth turned up in appreciation at the jest, but the gravity of the issue weighed down his humor. “What other benefits or facets does immortality hold for you?” He should be protesting the very idea, but the fact that Broderick could hear the thoughts in his mind allowed his curiosity to reign.
“I have the strength of, say, twenty men or more. I heal incredibly fast and can heal others.”
“Heal?”
Broderick nodded and grabbed the spare cup Cailin had brought in and set it before him. Grabbing a steel dagger from his belt, he dragged the blade across his palm, slicing it open. The blood from the cut hardly had the chance to drip into the chalice before the wound closed …as if the blade had never touched his skin.
James’s jaw went slack and he grabbed Broderick’s hand to examine his palm. Neither a scar nor a mark gave any evidence of what James had witnessed. Broderick seized James’s hand and made a small incision in the fleshy part of his palm. Hissing, James tried to pull away, but Broderick tipped the cup, dripping his blood onto the cut…which also vanished as if it had never been. No pain. No marks. After wiping the blood clean with the cloth on the table, he released James’s hand.
“’Tis not possible,” James whispered as he smoothed his thumb over his skin, back and forth as if that would conjure the cut again or reveal some trace of it. “Fascinating!”
Another chortle from Broderick drew James’s eyes. MacDougal raised an eyebrow and sneered. “I thought you might find this information of interest with that inquisitive mind of yours.”
James nodded and grinned, relenting to the appeal of the situation. “I must ask…how old are you?”
“I was born the fourth day in April of the fourteen-hundred-and-fiftieth year of our Lord.”
James frowned in concentration, then went slack-jawed once again. “’Tis one-and-eighty years you are?”
Broderick gave a solemn nod.
“Are Cailin and Davina also immortal?”
Broderick shook his head. “Nay, they are mortal as you are. And, in truth, Cailin is not my daughter. Davina was a widow and with child when her husband died. Cailin was but eight months old when I met them.”
“I never did understand what Davina meant when she referred to Cailin touching your face when she first met you. I thought that an odd thing to say of one’s daughter.” James’s mind swam in a whirl of confusion and wonder, only to have a sobering thought jar him back to the situation at hand. “Why are you imparting such information to me and how does it relate to my future?”
“’Tis a smart lad you are. Quick to nail the point.” Broderick’s appreciative grin faded and he rose to pace the length of the room. “Wedding my daughter Cailin will mean protecting her.”
“Of course, sir.”
Broderick stopped and regarded James. “From another Vamsyrian.”
James nodded and sipped his wine, waiting for Broderick to proceed.
“His name is Angus Campbell.” MacDougal resumed pacing. “Our clans have been at war since my youth. I shall not go into the details of our history at this moment, except to stress this.” Standing before James, Broderick leveled his crystal-green gaze at him, a blending
of sorrow and anger in his immortal eyes. “For reasons I have yet to truly understand, Angus’s way to me is through those I love.”
James raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What exactly do I need to do?”
“You need to try to kill me.”
He downed the last of his wine and smiled. “My pleasure.”
* * * * *
Cailin paced the length of her bedchamber, fists clenched so hard her short nails pressed into her palms. With her face flushed and the backs of her eyes stinging from tears, the world closing in around her.
“That darn temper of yours, lass,” Margeret admonished with kindness softening her voice.
“Aye, Maggie! He is infuriating, though! Why can I not maintain my composure in front of him?”
“If yer encounter with him in the alley is any indication of what kind of man he is, and based on his brash behavior in the parlor…” Margeret shook her head and rubbed her chin. “The lad will be a handful, no doubt.”
“Oh heavens, the alley!” She groaned and plopped onto the settee at the foot of her bed with a grunt. Inhaling deep, she closed her eyes in an effort to calm her thumping heart. Even with her eyes closed, tears slipped down her cheeks. “He won’t marry me, Maggie,” she whispered.
Margeret rushed to Cailin’s side and wrapped a warm arm around her. “Nay, lass! Doncha be sayin’ such things.”
She would ruin her chances of marriage if she continued to allow her emotions to reign free. “What man wants a rebellious woman for a wife?” Cailin wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. “I never should have learned to fight.”
“What choice did ye have, sweetness?” Margeret kissed the top of Cailin’s head. “Angus Campbell forced the hand of yer entire family, he did.”
“’Tis what James was sent off to school to learn, though,” Cailin argued. “’Tis not my place to learn such things.” If I hadn’t learned to use a blade, I never would have— Cailin pushed those thoughts from her mind.
“Oh, lassie,” Margeret cooed. “This is the life ye have and ’tis no worth in frettin’ about it now.” She pulled back and dabbed at Cailin’s tears with the kerchief she pulled from her sleeve. “Yer a bonnie lass and he’s a grand fool if he fails to see yer generous heart and giving spirit. Bide a wee bit on yer temper, Cailin.”
MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE: Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles Page 5
