Eternal Lover, page 20
Alpin looked at the branches nailed over the door to the great hall, and sighed as he returned his gaze to her face. “Why?”
“For protection. Ye are fighting the curse,” she hurried on before he could protest, “and I decided to do what I can to help. I plan to surround ye with protection, shields against evil, and things to help strengthen your will to fight, or, at least, keep it strong.” She sighed. “I ken ye dinnae like such things so I thought to do it secretly.”
“So ye planned to lie to me.”
“Nay! I planned on telling ye nothing at all. Ye need such things to help ye hold firm whilst I search for a cure, but since I kenned ye would deny that or argue against my plans, I decided ’twas simplest to just boldly grasp the reins and charge ahead.”
“And ride right o’er me.”
“Weel,” she grimaced, then smiled at him, “more like ride beside ye.”
It was all nonsense, of course, Alpin mused. Rowan branches, magical stones, special herbs, and all such trickery could not save him. The earnest hope in her lovely eyes both attracted and annoyed him. He wanted to savor the sweetness of it and crush it with the cold, heartless truth. She was going to drive him mad long before his affliction accomplished the deed.
Then he found himself asking when had anyone at Nochdaidh last felt any hope at all? When had anyone worked so hard to try to help him? Never in his memory was the answer. Alpin did not share her hope, but her desire to help touched some deep need within him. He put his hand on the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her long, soft hair, and pulled her mouth down to his. The feel of her slender body, the scent of her, and even her foolish plots to help him shattered his resistance. He had to kiss her, had to steal a taste of her sweet innocence, of her precious if fruitless hopes, and of her desire.
Sophie tensed as he brushed his lips over hers. Heat flooded her body and she gasped. Alpin’s kiss grew fierce and demanding as he invaded her mouth with his tongue. Such a sudden assault should have frightened or angered her, but it did neither. It inflamed her. Each stroke of his tongue coaxed forth a deep, searing need. She did not need to feel the telltale hardening of his lean body to know he desired her. She could feel it in his kiss, could taste it upon his tongue. That desire fed her own. The passion flaring to life within her was so heady, so sweet, she had no will to fight it.
“’Tis a strange place ye have chosen for some wooing,” drawled a deep voice, “and nay verra private, either.”
The kiss ended so abruptly, Sophie felt lost and unsteady. Alpin gracefully stood up with her in his arms, and set her on her feet. She swayed a little, then, realizing Eric stood there, nervously tried to tidy her appearance. Not only was she severely disappointed that the kiss was over, but she suddenly wished she were alone. After experiencing something so stirring, so shattering to her peace of mind, she would like a little privacy to sort out her feelings and thoughts. It would be easy enough to leave, but she did not want anyone to think she was fleeing out of embarrassment or shame.
“Sophie fell and I caught her,” Alpin said, giving Eric a hard look that dared the man to argue.
Eric met that gaze for a moment, then shrugged and moved to pick up the stool and chair. “What are these doing here?”
“The stool was upon the chair and Lady Sophie was upon the stool. I walked into them.”
“Why would ye do something like that, m’lady?” Eric asked, only to have Alpin silently reply by pointing to a spot above the doors. “Oh, I see. Rowan branches.”
“Aye,” replied Sophie. “ ’Tis said they protect against witches.”
“’Tis about four hundred and thirty years too late for that,” murmured Alpin, and met Sophie’s cross look with one raised brow. “Do ye plan to do a lot of this?”
“In every place I can. I have a few other ideas as weel. I dinnae suppose I can convince ye to wear an amulet or two, can I?”
“So I might rattle about the place like Nella? Nay, I think not.” He looked up at the rowan tree branches. “I must resign myself to the constant sight of dying greenery, must I? I think this might count as sorcery.”
“I consider it healing.” Seeing the look of amused disbelief in his eyes, Sophie decided it was time to retreat. “I shall just go and clean up,” she murmured as she hurried out the door.
Alpin was surprised when Nella glared at him before following Sophie. He shook his head and looked at Eric, only to find that man eyeing him with an uncomfortable intensity. Kissing Sophie had been an error in judgment. He had succumbed to a weakness, and, he mused, being caught at it was probably a just punishment.
“What ye saw was a moment of utter madness,” Alpin said before Eric could speak.
“Are ye certain that was all it was?” asked Eric.
“Aye, and that is all it ever can be. A woman like Lady Sophie Hay can ne’er be for me. She is all hope, sweetness, and smiles.”
“With a hearty serving of tartness, stubbornness, and passion.”
“Aye. A perfect mixture,” Alpin murmured and shook his head. “Sophie needs laughter, sun, and love. She cannae find any of that with me. Although I am drawn to her, the first woman to show no fear, to offer help, I must turn from her. When she realizes nothing she does will help, she will lose that innocent faith that is so alluring. If I try to hold her, she will see me become the creature my forefathers did. ’Tis cowardly, mayhap, but I find I cannae stomach the thought of watching her begin to fear me, revile me, to watch me become more beast than mon.”
“But she might be able to help you,” protested Eric.
“Nay, I doubt that verra much,” said Alpin as he picked up the chair and took it back to the table. “I dinnae doubt for one moment, however, that I will destroy her. If I try to hold her, I will simply smother all that sweet light with my own darkness. I am not yet beast enough to commit that sin.”
* * *
“Nella, I need some time alone,” Sophie said, halting her maid when the woman tried to follow her into the bedchamber they shared.
“But, m’lady,” Nella began to protest.
“I need to think, Nella. Just give me a wee while alone, then come help me ready myself to dine in the great hall.”
“Because the laird hurled ye to the floor and tried to ravish ye?”
“Actually, Nella, I fell, knocked him to the ground, and he kissed me. That is all. Now, go. Please. I will be fine.”
The moment Nella left, Sophie hurled herself face-down on the bed. She knew she had been attracted to the laird from the first moment she had set eyes on the man. Now, with one kiss, he had shown her that what she felt was far more than an interest in a mysterious, troubled, handsome man. She loved him. She loved a man who could not abide the sun, drank blood, ate raw meat, and could tear his enemies apart with his bare hands. Sophie doubted she could have handpicked a man more certain to ensure that she continued to walk the sad path trod by far too many Galt women before her.
Chapter Four
The curses were bellowed so loudly Sophie was surprised they did not shake loose a few of the stones in the thick walls of Nochdaidh. She was strongly tempted to ignore Alpin when he shouted her name. After all, he had ignored her very thoroughly for the last week. If not for the times she and he had crossed paths and she had caught a look in his eyes that could only be described as passionate, she could easily think he hated her. The only other times he had taken note of her existence was to flay her with his temper. She was only trying to help the ungrateful fool. It was hardly her fault he kept stumbling upon her shields and protections in ways that tended to cause him some minor injury. Did the man never sleep? she thought crossly.
“Sophie Hay!”
It was a little astonishing how that deep voice could penetrate such thick walls, she mused, as she rose from the pallet she slept on. Although it was not the most comfortable of beds, she far preferred it to the one she had been given. That bed had been the site of far too many trysts. Sensitive to such things, she had felt the ghostly remnants of passion, lust, pain, and even fear; had been unable to shield herself completely from all the lingering memories of so many strong feelings. Nella now slept in the bed. Fortunately, Nella was so accustomed to Sophie’s ways, she had not questioned the why of such an unusual arrangement. Sophie could not tell her very protective maid that those memories of lovemaking had caused her to have some very shocking and sensual dreams concerning herself and Sir Alpin.
As she hurried out of the room in response to a snarled demand that she best be quick or be prepared to suffer dark, but unspecified, consequences, Sophie was a little surprised to see that Nella still slept soundly. The sight that met her eyes as she turned toward Alpin’s bedchamber had her feeling both aroused and a little amused. Sir Alpin, the much-feared laird of Nochdaidh, was wearing only his hose and a loose shirt that revealed a great deal of his broad, smooth chest. He was also sitting on the floor grimacing and rubbing one of his bare feet.
When he looked at her, she understood why he inspired such fear in people, even though she felt only a brief flicker of unease. His eyes resembled those of a wolf, the golden brown having become more yellow in color. The lines of his face had changed slightly, giving him a distinctly feral look. She could feel his anger, feel the wildness of it. Then he ran his gaze over her and she felt his emotions shift from anger to need. Her body quickly responded to that look, but he seemed unaware of that. His control was admirable, even somewhat astonishing, but she was beginning to heartily dislike it.
“Ye roared, m’laird?” she asked, crossing her arms and inwardly grimacing when she realized she wore only her thin linen nightshift.
“What are these?” he demanded, pointing to the stones lined up outside his bedchamber door.
“Rune stones,” she replied. “Since ye had retired for the night, I set them there to shield ye as ye slept. I had planned to collect them ere ye woke. I hadnae realized ye were in the habit of slinking about in the dark of night.”
“Nay? Perhaps I felt the need to feast upon some innocent bairn?” He noticed she had begun to tap her small, bare foot against the floor. “I am, after all, a creature of shadows, comfortable beneath the cloak of night, which so many others fear.”
“Ye dinnae help matters by saying such foolish things.” She gasped in surprise when he suddenly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down until she was sprawled in his lap. “My laird, this is undignified and improper.”
Sophie had wanted to sound imperious, but even she could hear the breathlessness in her voice. It should not surprise her that she was so weak-willed around this man. She had spent the last week dreaming of that first kiss, aching for another, and for so much more. Falling in love with this man had to be one of the most idiotic things she had ever done, but her heart refused to be swayed by good sense. Instead of learning how to fight his allure, she found herself hurt and angered over how easily he could fight the attraction between them.
He gave her a faint smile that barely parted his lips, then nuzzled her throat. Sophie trembled and wrapped her arms around him. When she felt the light touch of his teeth at the pulse point in her throat, she supposed she ought to be a little concerned. Instead, she curled her fingers into his thick hair and held him closer as she tilted her head back. The feel of his tongue upon that spot where her blood pounded in her veins, the damp heat of his mouth as he lightly suckled her skin fed her nearly desperate need for him to place those soft lips against her own. When he kissed the underside of her chin, then her cheek, she turned her face a little, trying to press her mouth to his.
“I can hear each beat of your heart, Sophie,” he said against her temple, his voice deep and seductive. “I can hear the blood rushing in your veins. I can smell your desire,” he whispered and lightly nipped her earlobe. “I can taste it upon your lips.” He teased her lips with fleeting kisses.
“And I can feel your desire, Alpin.” She nipped at his bottom lip and smiled faintly when he growled low in his throat. “It feeds my own.” The way his narrowed eyes glowed, his nostrils flared, and his features tightened into a predatory expression should have frightened her, but Sophie only felt her passion soar. She suspected she might look nearly as feral as he did as she ran her tongue between his lips and said, “So taste it, Alpin. Drink deep.”
Alpin did, holding her tightly as he kissed her. She met his growing ferocity with her own. It was astonishing to him that this delicate woman did not flee his raw desire, but welcomed it, equaled it. A flicker of sanity pierced the madness seizing him. It would be easy to simply revel in what she offered, but he had to resist. Instinct told him that Sophie would not give herself lightly, and he could offer her no more than a bedding.
He ended the kiss, pulling back from her until his head hit the wall. He closed his eyes against the sight of her flushed face, her passion-warmed eyes, and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. When he felt his control return, he looked at her again only to catch her staring at his bared chest with a look so heated he almost lost control again.
“Cease staring at my chest, Sophie,” he drawled, pleased at how calm he sounded, no hint of the need tearing at his insides to be detected in his voice.
For a moment Sophie did not grasp the almost cold tone behind his words, then she felt the sting of the abrupt ending of their passionate interlude. She felt anger push aside her desire and glared at him, saying with an equal coldness, “I wasnae staring at your chest, ye vain mon. I was but noticing that your laces are badly frayed.”
She was good, Alpin thought, as he watched her stand up. If his senses of smell and hearing were not so acute, he might believe she was as unmoved by the kiss as he pretended to be. He could still scent her desire, however, still hear it pounding in her veins. Pride led her now, and, he realized, he could use that to keep her at a distance, to stop her from tempting him with her warmth.
“Best collect your rocks ere ye hurry away,” he said.
“They are rune stones,” she snapped as she picked them up.
He shrugged as he stood up slowly. “They are nonsense, foolish superstition. I begin to lose patience with all these games.”
“And I begin to lose patience with the air of defeat that fair chokes the air at Nochdaidh!”
“After so long, ye must forgive us for no longer believing in cures. And if the air here is so foul to ye, mayhap ye ought to go do your breathing elsewhere.”
“Oh, nay, ye willnae get rid of me so easily. Fine, go and wallow in your self-pity. I am nay ready to quit. If ye dinnae wish me to fight for you, so be it, but I will continue to fight for myself and for the sake of any children I am blessed with.” Seeing the look of fury upon his face, Sophie decided she had pushed him hard enough and she started back to her room. “And best ye get those weak laces seen to ere they snap. Ye could put an eye out, ye ken.”
She shut her bedroom door quietly, resisting the urge to slam it shut. Seeing that Nella was still asleep, Sophie shook her head and put her rune stones away. She crawled into her bed and closed her eyes, knowing sleep would be slow to release her from the tumultuous feelings still gripping her. As she struggled to calm herself, she decided it was not the despair of holding love too briefly and losing it that she needed to worry about. If she was not careful, Alpin would drive her utterly mad long before then.
* * *
“M’lady, what troubles ye?” asked Nella as she walked through the village with Sophie. “Ye have been verra quiet.” She cast a fearful glance at Sophie’s throat. “Did the laird drink too much of your blood?”
Sophie was abruptly pulled from her dark thoughts and stopped to gape at Nella. “Ye think the laird has been drinking my blood?”
“Weel, there is that mark upon your neck.”
Clasping her hand over the mark upon her neck, Sophie grimaced. “I hadnae thought it so obvious.” She sighed and told her maid about the confrontation between her and Alpin last night. “I assume ’tis something men like to do and, at that moment, it was quite, er, pleasant. I had thought I had hidden it.”
Nella moved to adjust Sophie’s braid as well as the collars of her gown and cloak. “ ’Tis better now. Keep your cloak tied at the neck and it should remain hidden. Dinnae want too many catching a peek at it. If they ken ’tis a love bite, your reputation will be sorely marred, though I suspect most will think what I did.”
“I fear so.” She frowned as she caught sight of a crowd of people at the far end of the road. “A meeting?”
Two men ran past her and Nella, rushing to join the crowd. Sophie caught the word “murder” in their conversation and froze. This was the very last thing Alpin needed. Sophie was about to turn back toward the keep when one of the women in the crowd saw her, called to her, and drew everyone’s attention to her.
“M’lady, ye must come see this,” Shona the cooper’s wife called. “This will make ye see the danger of staying within the walls of such a cursed place.”
“I really dinnae want to see this,” Sophie murmured to Nella even as she started to walk toward Shona, Nella staying close to her side. “For them to cry murder means ’tis nay a clean death. No death is pleasant to witness, but murder can leave a verra untidy corpse.”
“Ye fret o’er the oddest things,” Nella said as she nudged her way through the crowd. “Dead is dead. Aye?” Nella abruptly stopped and shuddered. “Oh, dear.”
Sophie took a deep breath to steady herself, stepped around Nella, and looked down at what had once been a man. She felt her gorge rise and took several deep breaths to calm herself, her hand cupped over her nose and mouth to shield herself from the scent of death. Aware that the villagers were all watching her closely, she carefully studied the corpse. She knew what they believed, knew the accusations and questions that would soon be spoken aloud, and she searched out every clue she could find to be used to proclaim Alpin’s innocence.
“ ’Tis Donald, the butcher’s eldest lad,” said Hugh the cooper. “Weel, nay a lad. A mon with a wife and bairns. The poor woman found him like this. Said he often came here to sleep if one of the bairns cried too much in the night. Since their wee laddie is cutting teeth, he was setting up a fair howl all night long. The laird must have been on the hunt, and poor Donald was easy game.”
