Highland Vampire. Hannah Howell
rumors that said these two hid a callous brutality beneath their fine clothes and bonnie faces were obviously true. Glancing toward the sun, Jankyn knew he would not be able to perform any daring rescue. The best he could do was call out a warning, letting the rogues know that their perfidy was not unwitnessed. There would be little glory in it, but the ones in the garden would see nothing wrong for none of them would expect a man to leap from where he now perched and live.
It was not long before both men tensed and shifted deeper into the shadow of the tree. Jankyn knew their prey had entered the garden and he waited with them. When the woman entered his line of sight, Jankyn nearly fell from his perch. He easily recognized that lithe shape and the sensuous way the young woman moved. Her long, thick, honey gold hair swayed with each step she took, adding to her allure. Although he had seen little of her in nearly three years, he had obviously recalled Efrica Callan very well indeed. The two men lurking by the rowan tree intended to attack his laird’s sister by marriage. His shock had also stolen away the chance to warn her, and he cursed softly.
His first inclination was to roar out his fury and attack, but he forced his rage back. Efrica was no fool, nor was she helpless. There was also the sun to consider. Fists clenched, he waited.
“Weel met, m’lady,” said Lachlan as he moved to stand in front of Efrica, Thomas slipping around behind her.
“Mayhap I misjudge ye, but I dinnae think ye are here to join men in admiring the flowers,” Efrica said.
Jankyn saw her sleek body subtly move as she prepared herself for an attack.
“We would rather show ye our admiration.”
“Another time, if ye please.”
Efrica felt fear chill her blood, but forced herself to ignore it. Fear stole one’s wits and she would have need of hers now. Somehow she was going to have to slip free of this trap yet not do something that might raise too many questions. She could smell the lust in the men. It sickened and terrified her. Their plot was easy to discern. Rape, then a forced marriage. It was a ploy she should have considered when she had seen their anger over her rebuffs of their attentions, polite though those had been.
Just as she moved to leave the garden, Lachlan grabbed her by the arm. “Release me,” she hissed, and saw both men look at her curiously. “Now.”
“So fierce,” drawled Lachlan. “Do ye bring that fire to all ye do?”
“And do ye always bring another fool with ye to subdue a lass so much smaller than ye are?”
Insulting the man had not been wise, Efrica decided as she watched his face redden with fury. She had sensed the brute hidden beneath the courtier’s finery shortly after meeting both men. Although it was pleasing to have her judgment proven correct, she would have preferred to savor the small pleasure within the safe confines of her chambers or safely hidden within a crowd.
The only way to adequately protect herself now would be to toss aside the mask she wore at court. The genteel, polite lady she portrayed before others would gain her nothing now. Unfortunately, revealing too much of her true nature could rouse a curiosity that held its own dangers.
“Ye greet a mon’s wooing with cold scorn,” said Thomas. “Tisnae wise to lash at a mon’s pride so.”
“I doubt what ye plan now could e’er be called wooing,” Efrica said, turning slightly in the small hope that she could keep either man from getting a firm hold on her. “Best ye pause a moment to consider the consequences.”
“The consequences will be that ye will marry one of us. There is nay more to consider.”
“Nay? How about the anger of my kinsmen?”
Lachlan snorted, the crude sound heavy with scorn. “The Callans? An unimportant clan who hides away upon their lands hording their coin. Weel, ’tis time that largesse was shared by ones who ken how to use it.”
Efrica hastily swallowed the low, feral growl that crowded into her throat at this insult to her clan. “On useless finery and jewels for adulteresses and whores? Better it was pitched into the sea.”
“Ye have been here for ten days searching for a husband. Weel, we have decided ’tis past time ye got one.”
“And ye have tossed a coin to decide which of you will be that mon, have ye?”
“Nay, lass, we mean to toss you and the prize goes to the first mon in.” Lachlan smiled coldly as he tried to pull her into his arms. “In truth, it goes to the first to draw blood, my sweet.”
“Och, aye?” Efrica flexed her fingers. “I believe that will be me.”
Jankyn winced as he watched her rake her nails across Lachlan’s face, for he could remember how sharp those long elegant nails of a Callan woman could be. Lachlan was lucky he still had his eyes. In fact, Jankyn suspected Efrica had tempered her blow, only lightly raking Lachlan’s skin, for there was not that much blood, nor did Jankyn think the furrows running from check to cheek were that deep. Jankyn felt an ancient hunger stir within him as the scent of fresh, warm blood mixed with the light perfume of the flowers, but he forced it aside, keeping his full attention upon the ensuing battle below.
A part of him still wanted to bellow in rage, to put an immediate halt to this assault upon Efrica, but he continued to hold silent. It would be best if she handled the men in her own way. Efrica had agility, strength, and cunning. Perhaps even enough to get free of this trap. The last thing she needed was to draw too much attention to herself, and she had the wit to know that. If she freed herself, no one would hear of this confrontation. The two men intent upon rape would certainly not be talking. If he interfered in any way, this outrage would no longer be completely secret. There was even the chance the men might try to use his knowledge of it to force Efrica into a marriage she quite clearly did not want.
With a sensuous agility that impressed Jankyn, Efrica managed to elude the grasp of both men. It was quickly evident, however, that she had not really escaped them. For two men who seemed to do little but indulge themselves in every available vice, Lachlan and Thomas proved to be swift and cunning. Jankyn had the uneasy feeling they had played this cruel game before.
Even as he tried to think of a way to put an end to this without revealing too many of his secrets, or Efrica’s, Jankyn watched the tide of the battle turn against her. His anger grew each time they chased her, each time they thwarted her attempt to escape, and each time they touched her. This was no way to treat a woman. The fact that this woman was connected to his clan through her sister’s marriage made it a personal insult as well as a crime. Jankyn was not sure why, but the fact that it was Efrica seemed to make his anger all the fiercer.
Then they threw her to the ground, Thomas pinning her hands down as he crouched by her head. Lachlan quickly got the rest of her held firmly beneath his body. Jankyn forgot all about secrets that needed to be protected, and all about the chance that Efricia might be humiliated by being seen in such a degrading position. He even forgot about the sun. A soft growl rumbled deep in his throat as he leapt from his perch.
Efrica hissed a curse as Lachlan evaded her kicking legs and used his body to hold her down. Fear was a bitter taste in the back of her mouth, but she twisted her body, continuing to struggle. Although both men had made her uneasy from the beginning, she had never suspected they could be capable of this sort of brutality. This might be a callous attempt to force her to marry one of them, but she had no doubt at all that both men intended to violate her. She suspected they had made some pact between themselves as to how to share her rich dowry once one of them got her before a priest.
“Weel, lass, it looks as if I will win the greater prize,” said Lachlan as he began to push up her skirts.
“If ye do this, all ye will win is a deep grave,” she snapped. “Ye will die for this.”
“Aye, lass, they will.”
Her attackers had just begun to tense in surprise at the sound of that deep voice when Efrica suddenly found herself free. She lifted her head to see Lachlan, then Thomas, hurled across the garden