by Arial Burnz
His breath caught in his throat and he clenched, drawing his eyebrows together. How did she know Angus and—
“What—?”
“Hush!” He searched her mind for more information.
“Sir, if you please.” Davina tried to pull away from him, but his hands held her tight.
His muscles tensed as he tried to reach deeper into her memories. Flashes of Angus’s evil grin mocked Broderick, as if to say, “Come and get me, Rick!” More of the visions of a kinder, more compassionate Angus reemerged, conflicting with the Angus he knew. Then blackness rolled in like a fog, blotting out everything. He focused on the woman in hand, her eyes saucers of fright as she quailed away from him.
Raising his eyebrows, he eased his tension, but didn’t release her. “My apologies, milady. The visions I saw…” He brought forth as much compassion as he could muster, stroking her hand, and entertained the desire to feed from her to get what he wanted. He wondered if he should take the chance, and glanced at the tent flap, hearing the many voices outside, but reconsidered. He would have to calm her. “Fear not, milady. I didn’t mean to cause you such distress. The visions I saw…you have been through a lot, aye?” He hoped the predictions he made of her future in their last encounter were true or his bluff would be called.
Nodding, Davina took a calming breath as her lashes dipped to her flushed cheeks, then her eyes met his. She shrank from him.
Calm her. He closed his eyes, allowing the tension to ease from his face, the crease on his brow smoothing away, and he caressed and massaged her hand methodically. Using his immortal influence, he willed a peace to flow over her, like warm water pouring over her head and trickling down her body, washing away the fear and apprehension. She sighed, accepting the calming spirit surrounding her, the time languishing by in luxury.
Now more tranquil, Davina surrendered to his ministrations.
Her mind was a little difficult to navigate, her emotions swirling around in many directions, and her ability to block those memories baffled him. The more she relaxed, though, the more the fog began to lift. Broderick saw through Davina’s eyes and couldn’t resist the wicked grin that surfaced at seeing her memories of dressing for the evening. She stood in front of her looking glass, pulling her shift up her slender form, the thin material caressing her full, jutting breasts. Those images swirled and reformed to show Davina’s reflection fully dressed and applying her perfume.
“I see blossom oil in a glass vial.” His smile broadened. “Intimate places are touched by this fragrance,” he whispered as he saw her touch the valley between her breasts, the two sensitive skin patches behind her knees. Broderick opened his eyes and breathed in deep through his nose. “A fragrance I smell coming from you, lass.”
Fire flew to her cheeks and warmth emanated from her.
He settled his eyes upon her square neckline, where she had dabbed her rose oil, to linger before they traveled up to her sapphire eyes. Without releasing her gaze, he dipped the thumb of his free hand into a bowl of oil heated by a candle.
She tried to pull away once more, but he refused to let her go. “For what is the oil used?” Her voice trembled in spite of her efforts to keep it steady.
“The oil makes the lines upon your hand easier to read,” he explained, and he smoothed the warmth over her palm, each stroke of his thumb slow and deliberate.
The sound of Davina’s heartbeat quickened. Broderick sensed a hunger blossom inside her, and her eyes roamed over his neck and shoulders. Those swirling emotions diluted the last remnants of fear and became a mixture of curiosity and desire. Davina struggled to maintain a slow even breath, fighting the urge to pant. She wondered what his body pressed to hers would be like; feeling his weight upon her and hearing him call her name, his voice thick with desire.
Even with his eyes open, his mind flooded with her erotic images, which joined with Broderick’s own recollection of his dream. He could taste her when he examined her mouth; could feel her sliding down his shaft when his eyes traveled over her curvy figure. Seeing the erotic images she entertained in her mind, mimicking the dream, was his undoing.
With a groan, he dashed around the table, and before she could gather her wits, he pulled her to her feet, wrapping her in his embrace and crushing her arms between them. Davina’s hands upon his chest spread warmth over his body. The wild thumping of his heart beneath her palms matched her own heart’s cadence, pounding in his ears. Davina stared up at him with parted lips, full and tempting, begging to be tasted, and his mouth descended upon hers. With a dexterity that surprised him, she dodged him.
“Stop!”
Amusement played havoc with his features and he eased the tension of his embrace just enough to allow Davina some breathing room. His voice purred, “Stop? You are ripe and ready, lass. What say we indulge in each other in a more private atmosphere?”
Davina stepped out of his embrace and cracked her hand against his cheek.
“What in—” Broderick’s brow scrunched in confusion, and then smoothed as he tipped his head back and hearty laughter poured out of his mouth, his fists planted on his hips. Oh, I like her!
She stammered back, speechless, and her mouth fumbled with what to say. Before she could begin her insults, Broderick snaked his arms around her again. Davina struggled, pushing her fists against his broad chest still rumbling with his laughter. After much effort she found her tongue. “Let me be, you— you—!”
“Brute?” he supplied, unable to keep from chuckling at her passionate display. “Or am I more appropriately a—”
“An animal! That’s what you are!” She pushed against him with all her might. “Let me—!”
He hadn’t meant for her to fall. He just released her as she wanted and before he could think to snatch her hand, the force of pushing against him landed her right on her bottom.
Davina sat on the ground, dumbfounded, staring up at him. His arms folded across his chest, Broderick smiled down at her for a moment before stretching out a helping hand. Davina refused to take the offered help and rose to her feet unaided, dusting the dirt from her skirts and hands in furious gestures. His continuing flutter of laughter deepened the furrow of her brow.
When she faced him, they stared at each other in silence—his face sparkling with amusement; hers twisted in agitation. The fires of her temper were so easy to stoke, he couldn’t resist teasing her. He nodded toward the offering basket on the table.
She gawked for a moment then gasped. “How dare you ask for contributions when you have done nothing but manhandle me!” Picking up the basket, she threw it at him.
He ducked with ease and chuckled. “Methinks if you had gone with me to more private quarters, you would have been more charitable.”
Fury trembled throughout Davina’s body and he knew she caught his twofold meaning. With a huff, she stormed out of the tent.
Broderick remained thunderstruck from the encounter. Taking a deep breath, and securing his sporran over his erection, he stepped out of the tent and welcomed the cool air and the retreating figure of the enticing, but mysterious, Davina. She stomped into the crowd, and with great reluctance, Broderick tore his eyes away from where she vanished and faced Amice. He took a cautious step back from the piercing glare the old woman leveled at him.
“Davina will not be one of your conquests, Broderick!”
“She’s not a maiden untouched, Amice.” However, this woman’s virtue was not the pressing topic on his mind. Broderick stared off into the crowd, which long closed up behind her, still reeling from her visions of his enemy.
A sharp punch to his shoulder brought him out of his musings. Amice clutched her fists and faced him. “Her lack of innocence does not give you the right to break her heart!”
“What do you mean ‘break her heart’? She doesn’t—”
“I mean she is not one of those tavern wenches you manhandle for a mere handful of coins! If you pursue her, like you have other women in the past, you will crush her!”
Broderick didn’t drink for the sake of getting drunk, but he still enjoyed the taste of good ale. Though becoming a Vamsyrian magnified his senses, neither spirits, wine nor ale influenced him. Besides the drink, Broderick enjoyed the busyness of the taverns, the laughter, the brawls—the women. A tavern wench leaned forward and set the mug of ale before him, and a generous amount of cleavage swelled under the dazzling smile on her face. He grinned at her distraction and winked. He would keep her in mind if need be. She sashayed to another table with a delicious swing to her hips, but he frowned. Her seductive dance wasn’t enough to keep Broderick’s mind from what drove him to the tavern in the first place—the lovely Davina.
He rubbed his cheek, remembering the sting, and chuckled. Like it or not, this woman intoxicated him. The scent of roses and the sweet fragrance of her blood mingled and teased both the Hunger and his desires, a powerful—even fatal—combination which Broderick needed to secure.
He pushed aside his desire for the moment. The mystery of how she managed to manifest in the flesh was a pressing matter. Having a dream had its own questions. Vamsyrians didn’t dream—or so Rasheed and thirty years of silence during his sleep told him. And they were unlike any mortal dreams he remembered. As was the characteristic of mortal dreams, these reflected daily experiences and were fleeting. It was one thing to have a rekindled memory—she did spend a lot of time with Amice on their last stay in Stewart Glen—but to see her grown into adulthood and the dream match the reality…that was something different. This dream bordered on prophetic and was closer to waking feelings and sensations. Broderick didn’t like it.
Nor did he like her surprising connection to Angus Campbell. Broderick couldn’t put a time and place on the incident, but his experience with memories told him the encounter was recent. Angus spared Davina and did not wipe the memory from her mind, though the fogginess of the initial images made Broderick wonder if Angus had done some alterations.
“Leaving mental bread crumbs, Angus?” he mused under his breath.
He would need to feed from her. Then he would have full access to everything about her and her possible involvement with Angus, if she held anything deeper than just that encounter…such as her part in what Broderick knew to be a trap. Just as Broderick would have the information of her life in feeding from her, Angus was sure to have the same information. Which meant Angus learned Broderick had been through these parts once before, and now Broderick was sure who the lair belonged to. The time had come for his revenge. Broderick was ready.
But he had to tread with caution. Broderick wanted the advantage over his enemy, not to get sucked into his trap.
He nodded and gulped from his tankard. Pursuing Davina would be a dangerous challenge indeed, and Broderick never stepped down from a challenge. Davina would be a delight to explore while Broderick let Angus think he’d fallen for the bait. And the sooner he explored her, the better.
* * * * *
Davina pulled her knees to her chest and rubbed her palm in the flickering light of the bedside candle. Sleep would be fleeting this night, so Davina waited for Rosselyn to bring the chamomile tea she promised. The softly glowing embers in the hearth provided no illumination in the room at this distance, but did their job at keeping the cold outside at bay. Staring at her palm in the candlelight, she reflected on the powerful man who held her hand with his fiery touch. She could still smell the spicy oil upon her skin, stirring the memories of his penetrating emerald eyes and roguish smile. Her face flushed at the possibility he’d read her mind when she pictured herself beneath his body, in a wanton display of pleasure. Considering the other intimate things this stranger told her, that embarrassing probability loomed over her and her cheeks grew hot.
A subtle stirring of the curtains at the outside landing of her chamber drew Davina’s eyes for just a moment, distracting her thoughts. A small gust of wind through the cracks in the double doors, no doubt. Hugging her covers closer around her body against the invading draft, she turned her palm into the light once more, as he had, and traced the lines he traced with his finger. How could he read the marks on her hand? The creases and scrawls slashing over the surface of her skin made no sense at all, and they blurred as she continued to stare at them through her building tears. She covered her eyes and fought to keep control over her emotions. He doesn’t remember me!
Broderick stood on the landing outside. He hoped she was asleep, giving him the opportunity to feed from her and delve into her dreams for information. No such luck—she was awake. Not impossible, but would require more manipulation. Davina’s thoughts drifted into the air like mist, where he could only catch a word or two, or some distant feelings of regret and sadness. Broderick stole into her chamber, moving unseen into the shadows, to get closer.
He doesn’t remember me! her mind said.
Aye, by being this close, he could hear her thoughts much better.
Perhaps he didn’t have to feed. Taking advantage of this situation, she wouldn’t be guarding the musings of her mind, thinking she was alone in her own chamber. He would catch her off guard and confirm his suspicions. If that didn’t work, he would feed.
From the concealing shadow of the tall armoire just inside the doorway, Broderick observed Davina. She shook her head as she stared into her palm. Broderick closed his eyes to catch the images of her imagination. Without actually touching her, those only came in flashes, like lightning illuminating an object in the darkness. He saw a version of himself in her mind, first standing as she came into the fortune-telling tent, then surprise on his face, which transformed into recognition and relief. In these unfolding flashes of her fantasy, he held Davina in his arms, showering her face with kisses, professing how much he had missed her and how he would never let her go.
Bitter laughter whispered out of Davina’s mouth. Of course he doesn’t remember me. Nine years have passed—nine long years of him traveling the lands, meeting countless people, reading an endless amount of fortunes. He must have read the palms of a thousand young, love-struck girls like me. What makes me any different? Fool! How I wish he never came back. At least I would still have my fantasies in one piece!
Broderick felt a measure of frustration and embarrassment emanate from Davina as she relived their recent meeting in the tent. Davina’s view of the lustful and teasing encounter did not sit well with Broderick. Through the flashes of her memories and emotions, he saw himself as an aggressive rogue, taking liberties with her, acting like a hungry animal, pouncing on her at the first opportunity, treating her like some common wench, and then laughing at her. He had been so wrapped up in his initial shock of seeing her manifest in the flesh, in his own physical response to her, and then, more dramatically, the visions of Angus in her memories. How Broderick appeared to her was the furthest thought from his mind at that time. And here he stood, sneaking into her private bedchamber, embodying the animal she perceived him to be. Pushing down his rising shame, he reminded himself why he stood in the shadows of her room—to get information. These matters were trivial in comparison to preventing Angus from gaining the upper hand. He would bide until she settled into a peaceful sleep and do has he originally intended.
Davina punched her pillow before settling down under the covers. “Bastard Gypsy!”
An uncontrollable chuckle fluttered from his mouth. She sat up in bed, clutching her bedspread to her throat. Damn, now I have to come out. He sighed. “My word,” he said, surprised at the deep resonance of his voice echoing through her chamber. “I’m flattered I haunt you so, milady.”
“Like an unwanted specter!” she hissed.
Brod
erick stepped out of the shadows and into the dim candlelight, bowed before her and stood, crossing his arms over his chest in a stance he hoped appeared casual. Her eyes roamed over his body, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and Broderick’s lips parted with an intake of breath. The mixture of desire and fear in her eyes stirred Broderick’s loins, and he adjusted his sporran, grateful it covered his groin.
With that candlelight glowing in his eyes, Lucifer himself would envy the Gypsy’s form, Davina marveled. Only the Dark Lord would come forth in the most pleasing form to seduce and entice me into giving away my very soul.
The corner of Broderick’s mouth turned up in amusement at how she perceived him. Davina was both afraid and enticed by him, so he would have to do what he could to quell the fear and heighten the seduction. A delightful shiver ran through his body and he sauntered over to her bed. A combination of panic and titillation radiated from Davina, and she brought her legs under her, assuming the position to leap at any moment. He stopped at the head post of her bed and leaned against it, keeping his arms crossed. The wooden structure groaned from his weight, but did nothing else.
“Get out,” she said, not at all convincing.
He raised an eyebrow and let his eyes roam down her form, his smile widening. He stood just out of reach, so close to her body, clad only in her thin night dress—like the one she wore in his dream—the scent of roses and her blood teasing his desire, the heat of her body caressing his skin over the distance. She hugged her blankets closer in defense and shrank back from his intense gaze. Broderick chuckled, an almost evil sound he regretted hearing.
“Get out of my bedchamber,” she said, sounding a little more determined.
“I offer a sincere apology at my brutal behavior earlier. I hoped you and I could continue our conversation in the privacy of a more peaceful setting.” He glanced around the room. “‘Tis a lovely bedchamber.” He sat on her bedside.
