Highland Thirst. Lynsay Sands
I do and I want her soon. She is two and twenty now and ripe for a mon.”
“She doesnae seem verra interested in ye, Angus.”
“She will learn to be. She just needs to be ridden hard a few times. So? When can I marry her?”
“Soon, my friend. Verra soon. Just allow me to finish with the MacNachton first. Either the blood will hold the answer I seek or he is useless to me and I will be rid of him.”
Angus cursed. “What does that business matter? How does my wedding Brona possibly affect that?”
“Because I think my cousin willnae come to the marriage willingly and we will need to be able to watch her verra closely until the deed is done. Come, dinnae look so fierce. Ye ken that I want ye to wed with her. ’Tis the perfect answer to both of our problems. Ye will get the woman ye have been lusting after for years and I will get her dowry to fill my empty purse. I dinnae think ye will need to wait too much longer. MacNachton will soon be dead or he will become our own source of the potion that will bring us superior strength and long lives.”
Brona heard the clink of two tankards knocking together and knew the men were giving each other a silent toast to the success of their plans. Numb with shock, she decided she had heard all she could stomach for now and she started on her way back to the solar. It was not only MacNachton she needed to worry about now. Her own life was in danger for she had no doubt that marriage to Angus Kerr would kill her, if not in body, certainly in mind and spirit.
She reached her bedchamber without anyone seeing her, much to her relief. Brona was sure that anyone meeting her would have immediately seen that something was wrong and she doubted she could have given them a plausible excuse for her obvious upset. Washing up and changing into her night shift, she crawled into her small bed. Thor immediately curled up on the sheepskin rug by the side of the bed and Havoc sought his usual place at her feet, but she did not find the comfort she usually did in their presence. She needed to think about all she had heard and make some very hard decisions.
Sir Heming MacNachton concerned her first. He truly had drunk Peter’s blood. It was hard to believe that a man would do such a thing, but she doubted Angus and Hervey were mistaken. They had obviously expected MacNachton to do just what he had done. And yet they did not think MacNachton was a demon. Despite hearing what he had done, Brona could not make herself believe it either. But what could he be if not a demon?
She thought of the man she had seen in the cage, of his wild beauty, and hoped she was not being swayed by his appearance. It was said that the devil tempted men and women with all they desired and any woman would desire a man like Sir Heming MacNachton. Brona knew she should be horrified that he had fed upon the blood of a man, and a part of her was, and yet she could not bring herself to condemn him for it. All she could keep thinking of was that he had not killed Peter, that he had not even sought out the man for his blood but had it forced upon him. If Sir Heming needed such sustenance then having a bleeding Peter shoved under his nose in the time of his greatest need must have been no more than another torment. She sincerely doubted the man had wanted others to see him do something like that.
As if sensing her agitation, Thor sat up and rested his head on the edge of the bed. A moment later she felt Havoc curl up against her back, his deep rumbling purr sounding quite loud in the silent room. Brona smiled faintly as she scratched Thor’s ears and softly commanded him to lie back down. She left Havoc where he was, rather liking the warmth of the cat’s big body on her back. Brona just wished they could help her make some decision about what to do.
Recalling Hervey’s plan to take blood from Sir Heming, she decided that was all that should rule her decision, that and the fact that Hervey was brutally torturing a man who had never done him any harm. What the man was did not matter. What Hervey was doing was wrong and what he planned to do was even worse. On the one hand, Hervey condemned MacNachton for drinking blood and on the other, Hervey planned to do just that if he discovered that Sir Heming’s blood held the secret of a long life.
Brona realized she had already made her decision about Sir Heming. She was going to try to save his life. Whatever manner of man he was, he did not deserve what Hervey and Angus were doing to him. He certainly did not deserve being used by her cousin and his first as a source for whatever magical quality might lurk in his blood.
A shiver went through her as she recalled her cousin and Angus discussing how they would use the man, taking his blood every day in order to see if they could gain the man’s strength and longevity. She had always known that her cousin and Angus were hard, cruel men, but their plan to keep Sir Heming caged so that they could feed off him was beyond cruel. Brona had to wonder if the two men were mad, or at least edging very close to madness. Even if one believed all the tales about the MacNachtons—and she had probably only heard a few of them in the last sennight—what her cousin planned was still madness.
She would take Sir Heming away from them. Brona intended to free Peter, if he still lived, as well as Colin and Fergus. The moment she opened the door to Sir Heming’s cage she would not be able to stay at Rosscurrach, so she may as well help every man in the dungeons flee her mad cousin’s rule. None of these men had done any harm to their laird or anyone else at Rosscurrach. She also had no doubt the men would stay free once their wounds healed. Brona just hoped she would be able to save herself as well.
Thoughts of the threat hanging over her own head started to creep into her mind, but she pushed them away. If she thought about how Hervey wanted her to marry Angus, of how that man lusted after her, she would never sleep or, if she did, she would be plagued by nightmares. She was fleeing Rosscurrach and that was all she would think about.
Closing her eyes, she tried to calm herself, knowing she needed her rest. There was a lot she had to do before she could help the men in the dungeons and herself. She would need to find a place for them to hide and gather some supplies. She would need all her wits clear to prepare for her escape and she needed sleep for that. The sooner she, Fergus, Colin, Peter—if he still lived—and Sir Heming got out of Hervey’s reach the better.
Heming rocked slightly, struggling to fight the waves of pain washing over him. The laird of Rosscurrach had a true skill at torturing a man. Worse, Heming got the feeling the man actually enjoyed it. By the time the torture had stopped, Sir Hervey Kerr had been so enraged at Heming’s refusal to tell him anything about the MacNachtons that Heming was a little surprised he still had all his parts.
Not sure why he was fighting unconsciousness and thinking about just giving into it, Heming had his attention suddenly caught by the sound of voices. He wondered why he felt such a keen sense of disappointment when he did not hear the woman’s low husky voice. The two men Mistress Brona had been talking to before leaving were talking to each other now that they were all alone. He doubted they would say anything of any importance, but Heming eagerly grasped the chance to think about anything except the pain wracking his body.
“Do ye think she will come back and set us free?” asked one and Heming recognized the voice as the one named Fergus.
“If she can, aye,” said the man Colin.
“But ye dinnae think she can, do ye?”
“I cannae say. It willnae be easy to get us out of here and she is just a wee lass. Aye, and one who has lived here and been cared for all her life. Weel, until that bastard showed up and sat his arse in the laird’s chair. She will want to and, if I recall right from when she was a bairn, she can be a stubborn lass. Just dinnae feel too unkindly toward her if she cannae do it.”
“Och, nay, I wouldnae. As ye say, she is just a wee lass. But, if we do get free what shall we do? We cannae stay here yet what about the rest of the family?”
“We will get word to them to get away if they fear they may be in danger. S’truth, I dinnae think they will be. We really didnae commit any crime and we have been punished for the one that bastard tries to say we committed. That should be the end of it yet he keeps us here. I still think it may be to feed that beastie in the cage. Weel, the laird cannae say that, can he. I think he willnae be so verra concerned about us escaping. He will be too busy trying to get MacNachton back and mayhap Peter