Highland Vampire. Hannah Howell
and joyously.”
Thinking of her new niece and nephew, Efrica had to smile as well. Bridget would have her hands full with those two, as she did with her twin sons now two. Then Efrica thought of her other niece and nephew, children bred when her brothers had dallied with some MacNachton women during one of their visits, women they had not married, and she frowned at Jankyn.
“Have ye come here to breed?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he snapped, then sighed. “Since I first became a mon, I have hardly been a monk, have I?—yet the only child I e’er bred was David and I asked that lass to marry me. She decided to stay with her own kind. So, nay, the thought of breeding didnae bring me here. Since the outside world is creeping e’er nearer to our sanctuary, I thought it might be wise to let them ken a MacNachton or two, to set the image of a mon in their minds instead of naught but dark rumor. Tisnae working out quite like I planned, although I have made a few good friends amongst the lairds. Unfortunately, the explanations for why I am ne’er about in the day make that a difficult task.”
“What explanations do ye give?”
He grimaced. “That I cannae abide the sun or verra strong light because it hurts my eyes and my skin is quick to burn.” Jankyn scowled at her when she giggled. “It makes me sound a most delicate flower, I ken it. I had to make sure a few saw me practicing some of the more monly arts with David to soften the shame of it.” He suddenly turned, resting his shoulder against the wall so that he could watch her more closely as he spoke. “And we have veered widely from the matter I thought we should discuss.”
Efrica crossed her arms over her chest. “What needs to be said? Twas just a kiss.”
“Lass, trust me to ken about such things. Twas nay just a kiss. Ye ken it as weel as I do. The heat, the need, came upon us fast and hard. We need to be honest about it or we cannae fight it.”
“I am nay some wanton lass who—” The touch of his finger upon her lips silenced her as warmth flooded her.
“Aye, ’tis there,” he said softly, forcing himself to remove his finger from her far-too-tempting mouth. “I dinnae imply that ye are wanton, lass. This isnae about morals. Tis about passion, the passion that stirs within us for each other. Unless we accept that truth, we could easily fall into its trap.”
“Then dinnae kiss me again.”
“I willnae. We are going to keep a verra respectful distance between us as of now.”
It was exactly what she wanted. Efrica wondered why she felt irritated and hurt that he would suggest it. That was dangerously contrary of her. She was obviously going to have to give herself some very stern lectures once she was alone.
“That would probably be best,” she forced herself to say, pleased by how calm she sounded.
“I will make that easier by getting back to work on one of the reasons I came to this cursed place.”
“And that was?”
“To find out more about my own heritage.” He stood up straight and gave in to the temptation to kiss her cheek. “Burying myself in dusty scrolls and ledgers should cool my blood.”
Efrica watched him walk away and sighed. He was such a beautiful man, one who moved with a grace that drew and held the eye. If he had not been a MacNachton, she knew she would have been making a fool of herself trying to draw his interest her way. She had a strong inclination to do so now. The light touch of a hand upon her arm startled her, and she turned to face a concerned Barbara.
“Ye look verra troubled and sad, lass.” Barbara watched Jankyn stride out of the great hall. “Mayhap ye should—”
“Nay.” Efrica glanced around to be sure they could speak without being heard. “He is a MacNachton. I have naught against them. I ken they arenae creatures from a nightmare, soulless undead demons who see the rest of us as naught but food. Howbeit, what he is makes him unsuitable. Barbara, he cannae e’er join me in a walk through a garden to watch the morning sun dry the dew upon the flowers. He is already nearly thirty years my senior and e’en he cannae say how much longer he will live, but ’tis surely a verra, verra long time. We willnae grow old together. He is the only one born amongst the Purebloods for more than two score years. Tis clear the seed of a Pureblood is weak. Aye, despite his lecherous ways, Jankyn has bred but one child and that upon an Outsider, a MacMartin. A mon now and one who must still be cautious about how long he stays out in the sun in the full light of day. I want children, Barbara.”
“Your sister—”
“Her husband isnae a Pureblood.” She shook her head. “I weel understand the curse of ancient bloodlines that mark one as, weel, different. The Callans have dealt with it for generations, aye? Jankyn can toss grown men about as if they weighed nay more than a cushion. Those teeth he is careful to hide would make a wolf envious. He can rip a mon’s throat out and drink deep of the blood that flows from that mortal wound. Aye, the MacNachtons have strict rules about such things now, saving such savagery for thieves, murderers, and enemies. He would have done it to the men who attacked me if I hadnae stopped him. The urge was there. To recover from being in the sun even that short while he needed to drink wine enriched with blood.” She nodded when Barbara frowned. “Aye—too different.”
“It does make our ancestress seem nay so bad,” murmured Barbara.
“Aye. Better a cat than a wolf. And the Callans have worked hard to breed it out until there is naught but a shadow of her left. The MacNachtons have only begun to do the same. Twill be a long time ere many of them can walk freely amongst us.”
“I understand all ye say, but I think your heart doesnae completely agree with your head.”
“Nay, it doesnae, but I will make it do so.”
“E’en if he returns your feelings?”
“Aye, tempting as that may be. I might be able to accept all the other things, but when I waver, there is one thought, one hard cold fact, that always stiffens my spine.”
“And that is?”
“I may be able to condemn myself to living in the shadows, but I willnae condemn my children to doing the same.”
Four
She did not care that she had not seen Jankyn for a week, Efrica told herself firmly as she left the garden and entered the castle. The fact that she had spent a large part of her time in the garden looking up at the window to his chambers was just a matter of curiosity. It was a huge lie, but she clung to it. It was best to remind herself that the time she had just spent in the sun, enjoying its warmth and savoring the scent of roses, was exactly why Jankyn was not the man for her. He could not have even looked out upon the garden if the sun was shining in the window.
“Greetings, Efrica.”
Startled, she looked around and saw David sitting on the floor, his back against the stone wall. That was odd enough, but looking more closely, she realized he looked pale. As she stepped closer, she also noticed that he trembled slightly. Quickly kneeling by his side, she lightly touched his face, wondering if he was fevered.
“Are ye ill?” she asked.
“Nay, only weakened.” He smiled faintly. “I took Mistress Fiona for a stroll in the gardens and lingered longer than was wise. Twill pass. I can abide the sun, ye ken, but must be wary when ’tis at its strongest, and I forgot that for a wee while.”
Efrica sat down beside him. She wondered how long he had sat here, for she had not seen him or Fiona in the gardens. He had the look of his father despite his dark red hair. The purity of his features, his lean, graceful body, and his dark golden eyes marked him as a MacNachton. Obviously there were other less welcome similarities as well.
“Do ye need anything? I could help ye to your chambers.”
“Nay. Och, aye, a wee bit of Father’s wine might speed my recovery, but I try to resist that cure.