“Broderick.”
He stopped at the door of their chamber and glanced over his shoulder.
“Mayhap you should wait until you return to let James know about Fiona.”
“Nay, Blossom. If he does encounter Alistair, I want the lad to know the truth.”
She sighed. “Aye, my love.”
Broderick made his speech to James brief and the lad took the news well. Afterward, he escorted James to the parlor. Davina handed Broderick his satchel, which he slung over his shoulder and across his chest to hang at his hip. With his arm around her, he faced the small group of people he loved. “As you know, I don’t like to venture anywhere without those dearest to my heart. However, on this occasion, I fear the dangers in bringing you with me outweigh the benefits. I know not where this journey will lead, who will be awaiting me other than this prophetess or what the outcome will be. My only consolation is I’m leaving a very powerful amulet of protection behind along with the superior skills of both my future son-in-law and the precious girl I am privileged to call my daughter by name.” He focused on Cailin. “Use the walls of this fortress, little one. During the day, they are a haven. At night, you will have the amulet.” He embraced his daughter. Nodding to Davina, Broderick stepped back as she came forward with the small box Rosselyn delivered from Amice. Cailin opened the box and Broderick stood behind her, lifting her hair from the back of her neck. “Put on this amulet, wear it close to your skin, and never take it off. Do you understand me, Cailin?”
She nodded, reached into the box and tied the ends of the leather cord together behind her neck. Davina placed the box onto the trestle table along the parlor wall.
“Conceal it wherever you need to so it will protect you from Vamsyrians at all times.”
Cailin obeyed with a wide-eyed expression, tucking the amulet into her bodice.
“It is my greatest hope I learn how to make more of these so you all might wear them and, at last, be safe from my enemy.” He faced James. “Though I will be gone only a few days, I want you practicing those routines I demonstrated for you. And Cailin…I want you to teach him what you know about blocking your thoughts and some of the moves you have perfected.”
Cailin’s eyes grew even wider and she shook her head, and then scratched her temple, indicating she wanted Broderick to read her thoughts. He nodded, but heard nothing of her mind. Her eyes pleaded with Broderick and he frowned. “Cailin, I cannot—” His breath hitched with dawning realization. “Take off the amulet for a moment, child, and hand it to your mother.”
Cailin slipped the medallion over her head and handed it to Davina.
“Try again,” he encouraged.
Do not ask me to engage in combat with James, Da! He abhors such behavior in a woman, especially of his betrothed.
Broderick shook his head. You are mistaken, Cailin. We do not have time to discuss this. Trust me when I say this should not vex you so. “Put the amulet back on, Cailin.”
She grumbled, but obeyed.
“Now try to say something else to me with your thoughts.” Broderick waited and again heard nothing. “If you just communicated your mind to me, I did not hear it. It appears this amulet also prevents Vamsyrians from hearing thoughts. Well, that will be another way you will all gain some privacy against my gifts.”
Chuckles and subdued laughter floated about them.
“I will make haste and not tarry so that I might be back with this treasured information as soon as possible. Until then, stay close and within these walls.”
Several heads bobbed in agreement.
Davina strolled with Broderick to the main gate while James and Cailin lingered by the front entrance. Broderick pulled Davina into his arms. “Eternally yours,” he whispered into her hair.
“Together forever,” she responded and her tears seeped through the material of his shirt, warming his skin.
Savoring Davina’s lips, he kissed her one last time, then whirled around and avoided looking back as he pushed through the gate. He would be traveling on foot using his immortal speed, as a horse could never run as fast or for as long as he. Thunder rumbled in the distance and he scanned the black sky, void of stars. Moisture tainted the air and he groaned. As if in response, the showers began. Though the rain wouldn’t slow him down, he did not relish running in it. In hopes of protecting Davina, he dashed through the pelting drops, leaving the fortress and the very breath of his soul behind him.
Chapter Four
His new stilettos at his side, sweat dripping off his brows, James stood on the mat with his eyes focused on a decorative sword hanging on the wall across the room. The Training Room—as Broderick named it—appeared different during the day, a dull light from the overcast sky coming through the oriel windows and illuminating the canvas-padded mats strewn about the wooden floor. A few cabinets and boards with blunt-edged weapons hanging on pegs covered the wall opposite the windows. The daylight showed off the splendor of the room decorated with various shields, weapons and paintings of battle scenes, something James wasn’t able to fully enjoy the night he sparred with Broderick.
Hands relaxed at his hips, he employed the technique he learned at Fechtschulen to gradually work through the next exercise. Moving slowly, he grabbed the daggers, slid them out of their sheaths, elbowed his invisible opponent behind him and spun to stab his phantom chest. James shook his head and replaced the daggers. Sloppy. Again.
He repeated the movement several times at a slower pace to ensure he was comfortable with each step in the execution. Once he performed the maneuver smoothly and with ease, he increased his speed. On occasion, he’d drop a weapon, curse himself and start again. The point of the exercises this morning were to complete as many of the movements Broderick had taught him without having to think about what to do.
Grab the daggers. Elbow opponent. Spin and pivot. Stab through the heart. Grab. Elbow. Spin. Stab. Grab. Elbow. Spin. Stab.
And then to accomplish the moves while thinking of something else.
Grab. Elbow. Spin. Stab. Why must she…grab…always run…elbow…when our exchanges…spin…turn into heated…stab…arguments? Grab…she has always been…elbow…one to speak her mind…spin…and now I see…stab…her holding back…grab…and hiding behind…elbow…this façade…spin…of the dutiful wife…stab. What I would like to do is GRAB her by the ELBOW, SPIN her around and STAB her with my—
“Good morrow, James.”
Cailin’s sultry voice floated about the air as she sauntered into the room…wearing a pair of form-fitting, tan breeches…that showed every…single…curve of her slender legs, and hips sweet enough to grab onto!
“I see you have been working hard on your routines.” She smiled that heart-breaking grin and James sighed.
He nodded and dropped his jaw to the floor when Cailin swiveled that perfectly curved backside toward him, bent over and placed something on the bench before her. His mouth watered and the blood in his body rushed so suddenly to his groin it ached. For the love of God! Turning his back to her, he stomped across the room and quickly donned his shirt, leaving it hanging loose to cover his erection straining against his breeches, demanding to bury itself to the hilt inside that luscious and surely creamy temptation.
He clenched his jaw and cursed his body’s fierce reaction. “Your father allows you to wear such revealing garments?” He winced at how his harsh words grated his ears, and most likely hers. He spun to face her again and groaned inwardly at her wounded expression.
“I…my…mother made them for me…to do the training with my father. My skirts would get in the way, you see, and…” She shrugged and her fingers fumbled with the hem of the loose linen shirt she wore. “I never wear them outside of this room. Should I change?”
Difficult question to answer! His groin screamed, “NAY!” His head screamed, “AYE!” His groin won the argument. “Nay, Cailin. Never change. I mean, all is well. You just caught me by surprise.” He swallowed and cleared his throat, stepping toward her,
a little uncertain on his feet.
A deep red mottled her cheeks and her lips parted with a tiny gasp—those full lips, growing flush with realization, begging James to taste them. She must have understood what the site of her in those breeches did to him, for she backed toward the door. “Perhaps I should—”
James stood before her in two strides, grabbing her shoulders. “Nay…please.” He eased his hold on her when she shrank from him, and he caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Thankfully, she visibly relaxed from his gesture. He was being ridiculous and offered her a boyish smile. “I promise…I shall do my best to behave. We have much to go over and I cannot let something such as wardrobe interfere with learning to protect you. ’Tis my duty as your husband and I will not fail.” He winked at her. “Come, Mouse. Show me how to wield my new weapons.”
A small frown tainted her grin, but she nodded and dropped to her knees on the mat before him, and his breath hitched at the innocently provocative position in which she just placed herself.
“Come sit with me first,” she said, patting the mat in front of her, her head moving just a few inches toward his groin.
James dropped to his knees and groaned.
“Are you already sore?” She giggled as she pulled her long, cinnamon curls back with a leather tie.
He didn’t trust himself to speak and waited for her to continue.
“The first defense against a Vamsyrian is to create a mental barrier for your thoughts, like a curtain wall about a castle.” She closed her eyes and breathed deep, her breasts pushing against the material of her shirt.
Good Lord in heaven, she has no chemise or undergarment! This woman is sure to be my undoing. Has MacDougal never noticed this? As a father, he should be—
“Deep, calming breaths help you relax and will allow you to apply your mind to the task.” She opened her eyes. “I will do my best to explain the method I use, based on what my father learned from his Gypsy friend Amice…and I have made my own modifications to suit my imaginings. Perhaps through this, we can explore your imagination to find out what methods work best for you.”
He clenched his jaw when his cock twitched. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Aye.”
“Wonderful. Now close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose.”
James did as she instructed, grateful for the moment her tempting visage no longer dominated his senses. The deep breath did seem to calm him.
“Now blow your breath out through your mouth.”
He did thus.
“Another deep breath through your nose.” Cailin’s voice, just a whisper, was now at his left. “And blow out through your mouth.” Her soft voice to his right. Apparently, she had stood and was circling as she instructed him. Her delicate hands touched his lower back and pulled on his shoulder. “Be sure to sit straight for easier breathing.” The scent of citrus wafted through his senses. She must have a sucket in her mouth. “And let your shoulders relax.” Her fingertips pushed on the tops of his shoulders, her voice in front of him now. He opened his eyes just enough to see where she was…bent forward before him, giving him a perfect view of the creamy, round mounds of her breasts. She lowered herself to her knees and James closed his eyes. In the darkness of his private world, those perfect breasts remained branded on his eyesight.
“Now that you have relaxed your body and slowed your breathing,” her sultry voice caressed his ears, “you are in a position to explore your imagination, to develop a picture for the purpose of creating your barrier.”
The side of his mouth turned up. “And just what picture should I develop for my barrier? Anything at all?”
“Well, when you think of a barrier, what comes to mind?”
Your clothing. “Hard…stone. A masonry stone wall, perhaps.”
“Very good, James.” She seemed genuinely pleased with him. “So, using that picture, can you imagine building a wall in your mind, one stone block at a time?”
This was a good distraction, excellent for getting his mind off of her lush curves and white skin. He nodded. “I can see a field with masons stacking these large stone blocks to create the wall.”
“Excellent! Imagine them building that wall. Imagine that wall blocking out anything and everything and that it is surrounding your mind.”
He lost himself in the imagery for a few moments, building the stone wall block by block.
“You may open your eyes now.”
James did and Cailin’s red hair and cerulean eyes came into view. Her grin lit up her face like the sun and she tucked a curled strand of hair behind her ear. He adored those freckles dotting her pert little nose.
“Just before you rest each night, use that image, build that wall in your mind and imagine that wall never coming down once it has been built.”
“’Tis all there is to it?”
“Aye, but it does prove difficult to maintain when you engage in fighting. You have to keep that image of the built wall around your mind at all times.” She rose from the mat and ambled to the bench. After picking up her knife belt, she strapped her daggers to her hips, gathering the material of her shirt around her…providing more definition to her tiny waist and slender form. James licked his lips, his mouth gone dry, as her petite breasts peaked against the cream-colored muslin, her nipples brushing the fabric, perhaps in response…
“...do not want to get stabbed now, do we?” Cailin’s voice faded into his private fantasies.
“Hmmm?” Apply yourself, lad!
“I said…we should switch our blades for the training weapons. We do not want to get stabbed now, do we?” Cailin pulled her blades from her belt and set them on the wooden table against the wall beneath the peg board. She grabbed two blunt-edged daggers from a peg.
“Of course!” James followed suit, replacing his stilettos for the crudely-formed daggers. “They are quite similar in weight.”
“Aye. My father had the blacksmith make the effort to get the weight very close to our weapons. It does no good to learn with a different weight. I am sure you know the dynamic is different.”
He could not help grinning. “Of course.”
“So, what routines did my father show you?”
“Ah! Well…here.” He turned Cailin and stepped in front of her, showing her his back. “Let us propose that you are Angus and standing behind me.” He went through the motions gradually…grab, elbow, spin, stab…Cailin dodging the slow-moving knife when it came around.
“Very good. I know of that routine. There is another variation on that one, easy to pick up.” She stood in front of him now, putting her back to him, and James ensured their bodies did not touch. “When you grab your daggers,” she demonstrated, “and after you elbow his stomach, spin in the other direction.” She twirled thus. “And stab either in the back or side…depending on what he gives you.” She bent over as she reached around…and brushed her tender bottom against his erection.
James gritted his teeth and searched the ceiling, counting the wood beams, nails, anything his eyes could find.
“Forgive me!” Cailin gasped. “Did I jab you?”
“Nay,” he assured her and sought her eyes. Those cerulean eyes. “All is well. Why do you ask?”
She raised a brow and cocked her head. “You looked as if you were in pain. I thought…”
“Nay, I was…preparing myself just in case.”
“I can assure you, James, I have enough control over my weapons not to touch you.”
“I am sure you do.” He winked.
She frowned and eyed him with suspicion, but jutted her chin forward. “You try now.”
They switched positions, James in front of Cailin, and he moved through the motions she had just demonstrated. When he bent over and reached around for the strike, Cailin laid her hand upon his back and shoved. He kept his ground though, and she laughed.
“Very good, James!”
He faced her and chuckled, caught up in her gaiety.
“I expected to catch you
off balance and you did splendidly!”
“Your father did not waste his money on sending me to school, then?”
“He shall be pleased with my report.” She covered her mouth as she giggled. Straightening her posture, she waved her hand for him to face her. “Come. We shall do it quickly now.”
They sped through the routine several times, fumbling on occasion, but working through the mishaps and perfecting the moves. James demonstrated the two other routines Broderick had shown him and they worked through those. Cailin had excellent advice and impressed James with her command of close-combat engagement. The more they danced through the routines, the more comfortable they were with their bodies touching...and the more Cailin aroused James.
“’Tis one more routine I would like to show you.” She grabbed his shoulders, positioning him in front of her.
At his height, towering over her small frame, James was gifted with another delightful view of her cleavage. A rivulet of perspiration trailed down the sweet valley between her breasts and he imagined capturing it on his tongue.
“Now, standing thus, you have just approached me.” She dropped her arms to her sides, causing her breasts to jut forward and James’s cock to twitch. “Stepping in toward him is not something he will expect.” Cailin stepped forward, pulling her dagger from her sheath, and placing her foot between his feet. Such a lunge pressed her thigh between his knees and her breasts against his chest…and his impulses surged and overruled his reasoning. He caught Cailin by her waist and she snapped her head up in surprise, full lips parted and eyes wide. James dipped forward and captured her mouth with his, the sweet taste of orange on her tongue. His hands slid down to cup her bottom. With ease, he lifted her against his body and she wrapped her legs about his waist as he carried her to the table and shoved the weapons aside.
“James,” she pleaded between kisses. “What if…We should…”
MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE: Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles Page 8
