Highland Vampire. Hannah Howell
“Could ye bring me another tankard of my wine?”
Efrica nodded and went to get him his drink. She silently cursed her keen sense of smell, for it made it impossible to ignore the fact that his wine was enriched with blood. His need for it was one of the reasons she fought her attraction to him so vigorously. She never ceased to be amazed that her sister Bridget, married to the laird of the MacNachtons, could be so happy in a place where the sun never cast its warmth or light and among a people who required such a gruesome sustenance. It was because Bridget loved her laird, of course. Efrica was determined not to fall into that trap, but her heart appeared reluctant to heed good sense.
Jankyn’s hand shook slightly as he took hold of the tankard, and Efrica moved to help him. She put one arm around his broad shoulders and placed her other hand over his to steady it as he drank. Being so close to him had her heart pounding in her chest and her blood running hot. Telling herself it would be humiliating to suddenly pull away and flee the room, she silently prayed Jankyn could not sense her reaction and would finish his drink quickly.
The drink rapidly revived Jankyn, but that made him all too aware of the slender, warm female so close at hand. As he sipped the last of his drink, he slowly inhaled her scent, an intoxicating blend of clean skin, woman, and a hint of lavender. He had been attracted to Efrica from the first moment he had set eyes on her, and that attraction was rapidly breaking every bond he had placed on it.
Just one little kiss, he mused as he slipped his arm around her small waist. Just one little taste of what he had long wanted, but knew he could not have. And he would have to steal it, he thought, for she was already tensed to leave his side. He finished his drink, tossed the tankard aside, and tugged her down onto the bed beside him so swiftly, she had no time to flee.
“What are ye doing?” she demanded, sternly telling herself to pull free yet discovering she was unable to heed that sensible command.
“Should ye nay thank your gallant rescuer with something a wee bit warmer than words?” he asked.
“I think that may be verra unwise.”
“Ye are probably right.”
Instead of releasing her, however, he wrapped his other arm around her and kissed her. Efrica’s resistance to the embrace lasted barely longer than a heartbeat. His lips were so enticingly soft and warm. Just one little kiss, she told herself. Just one little taste of what she had so often dreamt of. When he nudged at her lips with his tongue, she parted them, welcoming the deepening of the kiss. With but one stroke of his tongue, the heat of desire raged through her veins, burning away all common sense and resistance. A little voice in her head warned her that now she had been embraced by him, one kiss would never be enough, but she ignored it.
It was not until he had shifted their bodies around on the bed until she was sprawled beneath him that Efrica regained a sense of the danger she was in. For one brief moment, she savored the feel of his lean, highly aroused body pressed against her. It was so tempting to take what he offered, what she wanted so badly, she ached with the need. She knew, however, that if she became his lover, it would bind her to him in ways she might never break free of. That thought gave her the strength to shake loose of desire’s tight grip, and scramble free of his embrace. As she stood by the side of the bed struggling to regain some sense of calm, she was happy to see that he was as flushed and breathless as she felt.
“I am nay one of your ladies,” she said, pleased with the cool steadiness of her voice.
“I have no ladies,” he said.
“Ha! I have heard all about ye since coming here. Weel, I have no intention of joining your stable.”
He inwardly cursed, all too aware of what was said about him and the women of the court. It annoyed him that he felt a sudden need to explain, even excuse, his earlier excesses. He was unwed and unpromised, had simply taken what was offered, as would any man. The look of something akin to disappointment in her eyes stung him nevertheless.
“Gossip and rumor are nay fact.” He did not blame her for rolling her eyes over that pathetic response.
When she realized she wanted him to tell her that what she had heard was all lies, that he had been as chaste as a monk, Efrica decided it was time to leave. “Ye should be careful about disdaining all I have heard,” she drawled, “oh great dark stallion.” She had to grin at the way he blushed, then scowled at her.
“Now I am certain ye have heard naught but whispered lies. And just what are ye doing here?”
“My cousin Barbara brought me. I am nearing twenty. Past time I get a husband.”
The thought of another man touching Efrica, claiming her as his own, stirred a rage in Jankyn he fought hard to hide. “Barbara doesnae appear to be a verra good chaperone.”
“She is the best. She doesnae cling to one’s side, but is there when needed.”
“Such as in the garden?”
A telling point, but she just shrugged. “Twas still daylight. It should have been safe. I will be more wary now. And may I now ask what ye are doing here? Aside from rutting yourself blind, that is.”
Jankyn ignored that last remark. “I seek a wife for David. He is more Outsider than MacNachton, and I thought I could arrange a profitable marriage for him.”
“Ah, of course. Twould certainly serve the clan weel if ye succeed.”
“Aye, if only because it would allow us to point to one of our own who isnae so, weel—”
“Odd?”
“As good a word as any.” He looked her over, then quirked one brow. “Do ye plan to keep your secrets from a husband?”
Efrica wished she had an easy answer for that question, one she continuously asked herself. “I believe my secrets are easier to keep.”
“True. Save for that noise ye make when your blood runs hot,” he murmured, feeling his tamped-down desire stir at the memory of that low, throaty purr she had made as they had embraced. “Wives shouldnae purr, I am thinking.”
“And I am thinking I had best leave ere I give in to the urge to strangle ye,” she snapped, embarrassed that he had obviously known exactly how much his kisses had stirred her.
“Alas, so easily does the purring kitten become the hissing cat.”
Opening her mouth to retort, Efrica quickly shut it again, swallowing the insults crowding her tongue concerning blood-drinking men who swooned like frail maidens when touched by the sun. “Nay, ye willnae goad me into trading insults.” She stared toward the door. “I have grown beyond such things,” she announced loftily. “Maturity, ye ken. Ye should try it.”
A solid blow, he mused and grinned. That grin widened when she slammed the door behind her as she left. Maturity obviously did not stop her from indulging in that show of pique.
He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. It was then that he realized that the candle had flickered out quite a while ago and the room was almost completely dark. Efrica had not even realized it. He idly wondered if he should tell her that most people could not see so well in the dark, that a husband would surely notice such a skill and find it odd.
The thought of Efrica with another man banished his amusement. What a woman did before or after him had never troubled him before. He had, of course, never thought of Efrica with a man. In his mind she had always been that innocently sensuous young lass, sister to his laird’s wife, and forbidden fruit. It had never entered his mind that she would not be forbidden fruit to every man, nor that she would not wish to be. Worse, now that he had had a taste of that forbidden fruit, he craved more. He wanted to hear her purr again, and he wanted to be the only man who heard her make that intoxicating sound. Jankyn had the sinking feeling that stealing a taste of that forbidden fruit was the biggest mistake he had ever made.
Three
“Ye kissed him?!”
Efrica