Then he almost cursed aloud, barely stopping himself from wildly fighting against his bonds as an icy panic seized his heart. He was bait. Just as they had used a lone man to draw him in and capture him, they planned to use him to draw Alice into a trap. It had been hard enough to think on how Alice would be alone, unprotected because he had foolishly stumbled into a snare. Now he added the fear that she would be taken captive. Gybbon had not thought there could be anything worse than thinking Alice could die because of his carelessness, but Callum had just shown him that there was.
He fought to smother the ugly memories of all his cousins had endured when they had been taken prisoner, but they refused to leave his mind. Only it was not Tearlach or Heming he saw in chains. It was Alice. It was Alice’s soft skin marred with bloody lash marks and bruises from repeated beatings.
Even more horrifying was the thought that, if the men who had caged his cousins had told anyone of their assumptions about the value of MacNachton blood, Alice would spend her long years in chains while her blood was used to give those monsters the strength and longevity of a MacNachton. Even if the men who held her did not have that knowledge, they would still make her life a hell on earth as they used her to try to discover every strength and weakness the MacNachtons had. And such prodding, such long study, could easily reveal that secret the MacNachtons themselves had only just fully understood and wanted no Outsider to ever know—that drinking MacNachton blood could heal, could strengthen, and could lengthen an Outsider’s life by many, many years. The secret they had hoped had died with Heming’s captors. That realization brought Gybbon’s thoughts right back to the chance that Alice could be held as a source for that blood for a very long time and he nearly bellowed out his pain and rage at the thought.
For the first time in a long time, Gybbon found himself praying. He prayed that some miracle would occur and that he would regain enough strength and luck to escape so that he could slaughter these men who thought themselves so much more blessed than he despite their plans to hand a woman and child over to ones who would torture them for years. But mostly, he prayed that Alice had the good sense to stay very far away.
Chapter Six
Sweat trickled down Alice’s spine as she inched her way closer to Gybbon. When she had first seen him tied down she had nearly charged the Hunters’ camp, blindly eager to free him and slaughter his captors. She had needed several moments to quell that urge. The good sense to know that it would be an utterly foolish thing to do had been slow to come and cool her blood.
Still shaking from the need to kill the men who had hunted her for so long, who now left Gybbon staked out to suffer a slow bleeding away of his strength and his life beneath the slowly rising sun, she had taken her bow and arrows from her saddle. The weapon was one of the few things she had rescued from her home before running for her life. Her father had made the bow to suit her small hands and taught her to hunt with it. Unable to buy, make, or steal any new arrows, she had treated each one she had like gold but she was willing to lose a few now if they finally rid her of these men and saved Gybbon.
As she continued to creep closer to Gybbon, Alice tried to plan exactly how she would free him. She knew she could take down at least one man with an arrow, possibly two, before the Hunters even knew she was there, but then they would be on her. Freeing Gybbon as much as possible had to come first. Then all she could do was hope that the threat of being taken down by an arrow would be enough to hold the Hunters back. As she held them at bay, Gybbon could finish freeing himself.
If he still had the strength to do so, she thought, glancing up at the sun. Its light was already eking through the trees to touch him, each shaft of its light slowly sucking the strength from his body. If the amount of blood she could see on his now dirty, tattered clothing was anything to judge by, he had wounds that would also steal his strength. She could tolerate a lot more sun than he could, but it was still vital to get him to some shelter as swiftly as possible. For that to happen he had to be able to ride, and that took strength. She certainly did not have the strength to drag him about for miles if he lost consciousness.
Her stomach cramped with fear as she moved the last few inches to where one of the ropes holding him down was wrapped around a tree. She kept her gaze fixed upon the Hunters as she sawed at the thick rope with her dagger. Each faint rasp of the blade against the rope made her heart skip with alarm but she did not hesitate. Even if she got only one of Gybbon’s arms free before she was discovered, that would still give them some chance to flee. She could put the dagger in his hand and hold their enemies back as he finished cutting himself loose.
“There be sun on him now, Callum, but he doesnae act like he feels any pain,” said one of the Hunters, a tall, too-thin youth with pockmarked skin. “I thought ye said they were supposed to burn.”
“That is what we will soon discover for certain,” said Callum.
Alice fought the fear that rough voice stirred inside her, a fear so deep her muscles tensed with the need to run. Instead she concentrated on the fact that his once fine, deep voice was ruined because of her. The memory of how she had escaped him gave her strength. Even so, she felt a dizzying surge of relief when the blade of her dagger finally cut through the rope, for it meant she was now a little closer to getting far away from Callum. Still keeping her gaze on the men by the fire, she began the slow, exhausting crawl toward the tree that Gybbon’s other arm was lashed to.
Gybbon looked toward the Hunters when the youngest of them spoke. The youth’s words proved that the rumor that MacNachtons caught fire in the sun’s light had not died. Although the result was wrong, the men obviously knew, or had been told, that the light of day was dangerous to the people they hunted. Gybbon had to wonder what idiocy made the men continue to track MacNachtons at night if they believed that. It could be as simple as the Hunters not knowing where their prey would hide, but Gybbon could not help but think that some of it was a simple following of the rules of war. Striking at night often gave the attacker an advantage. Since striking at MacNachtons in the full light of a sunny day could cost his clan dearly, he prayed these men and the ones sending them out to hunt remained so blindly foolish.
A faint tug on his wrist startled him but he hid his surprise. He also swallowed a sudden wave of hope. It might not be a rescue. It could just be some woodland creature testing the rope for food or nesting material. Gybbon took a slow, deep breath to restore his calm and his nose filled with a light scent he knew all too well. Alice was near. He had the wild thought that he should have left the need of bloody retribution out of his prayers.
The urge to shout at her to run was hard to beat down. At full strength he and Alice could take down all four men, but neither of them was. He suffered because of his wounds, that weakness only added to by the sun’s effect on him, and she had not yet regained the strength six years of running for her life had stolen from her. Her reluctance to feed only made her recovery take longer. If she was seen, she could be captured, and the thought of that was nearly more than he could bear.
When the pull of the rope on his wrist went abruptly lax, Gybbon struggled to remain still. He did not give in to the temptation to see where Alice was moving to next. Instead, he concentrated on how she moved without making a sound, silently slipping from shadow to shadow, and how none of their enemies appeared to be aware of her presence. To ensure that they remained ignorant, he attempted to keep their attention fixed firmly on him.
“Did ye expect me to blaze like some Hogmanay bonfire?” he asked, mockery thick behind every word.
“It fair disappoints me that ye havenae, but the sun will soon kill ye, be it slow or swift,” said Callum. “Of course, ye could save your life by telling us what we need to ken. Where are Alice and the bairn?”
Alice is probably near enough to spit on ye, he thought with grim satisfaction. “Och, nay, I willnae help ye catch her. I ken all too weel the tortures your laird and his ilk would put her through. Her and your son.”
Gybbon felt the rope around his other wrist fall limp. A heartbeat later the hilt of a dagger filled his palm. It was the hardest thing he had ever done but he resisted the urge to hurl it at Callum. He also resisted the need to move. Since he now had Alice’s dagger, he knew she was not planning to cut his legs free of their tethers. That meant she had something else planned, something he hoped would hold the Hunters back as he finished freeing himself. And something, he thought as his insides clenched with anticipation, that did not require any sacrifice from Alice. He would not allow her to trade her freedom for his.
“It was your seed, ye raping bastard,” Alice said as she leapt to her feet, her bow drawn and an arrow aimed right at Callum’s heart. It took all of her willpower not to let it fly.
Despite his weakness, Gybbon moved swiftly to cut the ropes at his ankles. Every bone and sinew inside him ached with weariness but he leapt to Alice’s side the moment he was free. One man drew his sword and stepped toward them but the man had barely completed the move when an arrow through his leg took him down. Gybbon glanced at Alice to see that she already had another arrow notched in her bow.
“Ye are admirably quick with that, lass,” he murmured.
“Thank ye,” she said. “Now what?”
“Ye mean this is where all your clever plotting ended?”
“More or less. I fear I thought it all up a wee bit quickly.”
He moved to grab his weapons that had been set down not far from where he had been staked out. One quick look toward his horse revealed that the animal was still saddled and only lightly tethered to a tangled bush. Gybbon whistled softly and Resolute easily tugged himself free. In the brief moment the horse crossed in front of Alice, another man tried to rush forward. Gybbon watched as, the moment Resolute moved past Alice, she took the man down with an arrow to the shoulder. She was good, he mused, but she was going to have to overcome her aversion to killing when dealing with men like these. They might not be holding a blade against her throat, but they were still a threat to her life.
“Keep your bow drawn, lass, and come here to me,” he said quietly as he drew his sword. “Your horse?”
“A few yards behind us,” she replied as she did as he had ordered.
“Mount Resolute. We will catch the mare as we pass it.”
It was not easy, and she had to release her guard on the men for a moment, but Alice mounted the horse. She then resumed her armed watch on the Hunters as Gybbon mounted behind her. She frowned when he caught up the reins and the animal began to back up, but not straight back. It was not until Gybbon cut free the men’s horses, slapping one on its flank with the flat of his sword and sending all the horses trotting away, that she realized what he had planned. Even as the Hunters cried out their fury, Gybbon turned Resolute in the direction she had come, and kicked him into a fast trot. Alice hastily shoved her arrow back into its quiver and slung her bow over her shoulder so that she could hang on.
When they reached Nightwind, Alice halted Gybbon’s attempt to grab the reins of her horse and keep on riding. She moved nimbly from Resolute’s back to the mare’s. They would travel faster this way, and getting to a shelter was as important as eluding their enemies. The sun would soon be high enough to cause her trouble. She did not want to even think of what it was doing to Gybbon.
He gave her no chance to ask him how he felt, however. Alice quickly nudged her horse to a pace to keep up with Gybbon as he rode through the forest at a speed that was just short of dangerous. She kept her attention fixed upon the path he led them along for over an hour, ducking low limbs and praying her horse did not stumble. The time had passed in utter silence before Alice thought to ask Gybbon if the Hunters were still on their trail. If he did not think so, they could, perhaps, slow their pace a little to one that did not offer so many chances for disaster.
When she looked at Gybbon, however, she could not fully smother a gasp of shock. There was no color left in his face and, even as she watched, he swayed in the saddle. He shook himself and sat upright again but Alice doubted he would be able to do that for much longer.
“Stop,” she ordered. “Stop right now, Gybbon MacNachton.”
Gybbon reined to a halt and looked at her, all the while fighting to remain conscious enough to get her moving again. “Why?”
“Because ye are about to fall out of your saddle. The sun has leeched away all your strength,” she said as she dismounted and stepped up beside him.
“Nay. ’Tis near. The shelter is near. We can reach it if we keep moving.”
The ease with which she pulled the reins out of his hands alarmed Alice. “Ye willnae make it any farther than the next tree if ye keep on as ye are.”
“Near enough.”
He reached for the reins only to sprawl facedown on his horse. Gybbon told himself that he just needed to rest for a moment but he knew that was a lie. He felt as if his bones had turned to water. Ordering himself to rise up, to take the reins back and get Alice to safety did not stir up even the smallest spark of strength.
“What are ye doing?” he asked as he felt something cover him.
“I am securing ye to the saddle and covering ye with blankets,” she replied, knotting the ends of a blanket beneath Resolute’s belly. “And dinnae argue with me. Ye are near to falling out of your saddle and I could ne’er get ye back in it if that happened. And I wouldnae have time to try, for I will soon be suffering as ye are if we dinnae get out of this sun. And why, when it so rarely does so, is that cursed sun so bright today?”
Gybbon did not even have the strength to sigh with relief when she finished covering him up, shielding him from the sun with their blankets. He used that respite to gather what few shreds of strength he could and told her where to go. He did not want to admit that he was no longer sure of how much farther they had to go and was pleased that she did not ask. As Resolute began to move, Gybbon prayed he had not waited too long, pushed himself too hard, or the sleep he was tumbling into could be an eternal one.
Alice was beginning to feel the dangerous effects of the sun by the time she found the shelter Gybbon had been traveling to. It was an old stone hovel, one of the ones people believed the ancients had left behind, so well shielded from view by trees and vines she had nearly missed it. She was able to rouse Gybbon just enough so that she did not have to drag him inside, but left him where he fell facedown on the dirt floor. Muttering apologies to the horses for her rushed care of them, she tossed the saddles and their packs into the shelter and then secured the animals beneath the heavy shade of the trees.
Once inside the shelter she spread a blanket over the floor and then dragged and rolled Gybbon’s body onto it. She undressed him and washed his wounds, cursing the Hunters for every bruise and cut Gybbon had suffered. Just as she was about to make certain he still breathed, and ease her growing fear for him, he opened his eyes. Alice frowned when his lips moved but she could hear little more than his breath passing through them. She leaned closer, turning her ear toward his mouth.
“Blood. Need blood.”
She sat back on her heels and stared at him, pleased that his eyes were shut again. He would not see her fear. Alice did not understand why she felt that chill at his request. Fear and dislike it though she did, she had long ago accepted the dark hunger that afflicted her, one that had come from his clan. She had let the children feed from her, seen it only as a necessity to keep them strong and healthy. Then she cursed softly as she realized what held her back. This was a man; this was Gybbon. Alice knew that letting him feed from her would be far more than an act of healing. Every instinct she had told her it would also be an intimate act.
Cautiously, and silently ridiculing herself for that caution, Alice touched his face. He was cold, so cold that grief clutched at her heart. It felt as if she touched a corpse. She placed her hand o
ver his heart. It beat, but slowly, wearily. It would not be long before it stopped.
Alice knew she would have to let him feed from her. There was no choice. Even if he was not as close to dying as she feared he was, he needed her blood to heal. Between the weakness caused by the sun and the injuries he had suffered, it would take him a very long time to heal enough to travel. They did not have that time. One of the reasons she and Gybbon had been so successful thus far was that they had never stayed in one place for very long. She also had the strong feeling that she would grieve hard if he died. If it happened because she was too great a coward to let him take her blood, that grief would be tenfold.
Abruptly, she cursed and bit her wrist. Slipping one arm beneath Gybbon’s head and lifting him up enough so that he would not choke as he fed, she placed her bleeding wrist against his mouth. For a moment his lips remained cold and still against her skin and her blood seeped down over his chin. Alice feared she was too late, that he was already beyond the ability to take what could save him. Then he grabbed hold of her arm and pressed her wrist hard against his mouth. A heartbeat later, he sank his fangs into her skin and began to feed.
The surge of what Alice could only assume was lust flooded her body. Her breasts quickly grew heavy and the tips hardened, even began to ache in an itchy sort of way. What began to alarm Alice a little was the growing heated fullness between her thighs. With each pull of his mouth upon her wrist, she felt a faint, cramping need low in her belly. And she was getting wet down there, she thought, nearly yanking her wrist away from Gybbon. As if sensing her plan to retreat, he growled softly and held tight. Only her deep need to help him grow strong again held her in place. By the time he stopped feeding, stroked the wound on her wrist with his tongue, and promptly fell unconscious again, Alice was fighting the urge to shove her hand between her legs and stroke herself. That shocked her so much that she pulled away from Gybbon so fast she nearly fell over.
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