Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood 4)

“Douglas frets over nothing.” The lie fell easily from her lips. But then what use did she have for money? If she had to feed naturally, so be it. Indeed, many people committed abhorrent acts to survive. Nikolai had supped from her neck — a few lost memories of the night had returned to her suddenly two years ago — although hunger had not been his motive.

“Douglas is a proud man. He would not have approached me had your situation not been dire.”

Her situation was dire; disaster had struck, but ther

e wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it. She rubbed her hip, suddenly conscious of the branding mark scorched into her skin. The devil truly had marked her as his own.

“I’ll not keep you any longer.” She stood in a bid to banish all thoughts of him staying. The more time she spent in his company, the more chance there was of him discovering the truth. “You are not responsible for me, Lachlan. I gave that right to another man. Go back to Edinburgh and find a wife of your own.” She tried not to wince at the harsh edge to her tone. Her words would be enough to rouse his temper, sufficient to send him charging out into the night, perhaps never to return.

He jumped to his feet, stepped closer until she could smell the potent scent that clung to his skin. Her knees almost buckled. She squared her shoulders and stared deeply into his piercing blue eyes, expecting him to offer a rebuke.

“I’ve never seen you look so scared.” His husky whisper was like a flame to her icy composure. “You have lied to me before. You once pledged your heart, and yet you gave it to another. I believed your lies then. But I do not believe them now.”

Isla closed her eyes briefly, shocked to find the deep ache in her chest could still pain her so easily after all this time. “Despite what you might think or how you may have interpreted my actions, I have never lied to you, Lachlan. And you’re right. I am scared.”

She was scared of living alone with her terrifying affliction. She was scared of being an outcast amongst her own people. Most of all, she feared Lachlan’s desire to marry another woman would cause him to forget her. Selfishly, she wanted him to love her forever. In truth, she wished she did know of an ancient spell or potion capable of turning back time. She would settle for one night lying in Lachlan’s arms rather than a lifetime with any other man.

“Then let me help you.” His hesitant fingers reached out to touch her cheek. “Let me share the burden.”

Isla held her breath. If he touched her, she would not have the strength to protest.

The sound of their laboured breathing permeated the air. His fingers were close, so close she could feel the heat radiating from them, the little sparks of energy that contained the essence of his life force.

Malmuirie's distant screech captured their attention. Disappointment flooded her chest as he lowered his hand, the sensation far more profound than she had expected.

The door flew open. Her maid-of-all-work scurried into the room despite Douglas trying his best to hold her back.

“We’re all doomed.” The middle-aged woman put her hand to her freckled brow but made no apology for her unwelcome interruption. She rushed over, grasped Isla’s hands and shook them as she spoke. “It is terrible. They’ll not rest until they drive us all out. They think it was you. They think you’re the Devil’s disciple.”

“Mind what ye say here, woman,” Douglas snapped as he followed her into the room.

Lachlan stared at Douglas. “Do you understand her blethering? Do you know why she speaks in riddles?”

“Aye. Stewart Ramsey lost a couple of cattle last night.” Judging by the anxious look on Douglas’ face, Isla suspected she had a right to be worried. “There’s talk the drovers will find another route to Crieff if they can’t catch the culprit. They think Isla’s to blame.”

“Tell her.” Malmuirie shook her head, strands of copper curls whipping her face. “Tell her about the baobhan sith. Tell her about the traveller.”

“Crivens! Will ye have a care and hold yer tongue, woman.” Douglas’ eyes grew wide. “It’s nae a conversation to have in front of guests.”

Isla cleared her throat. “Let Lachlan hear what the villagers have to say.” Even in her agitated state, Isla knew Malmuirie would not reveal the horrifying extent of her affliction. “Perhaps when he hears their ridiculous stories he will speak up for me.”

Lachlan’s concerned gaze settled on her. “I do not need to hear their stories to know they are lies.”

After all the hurt she had caused him, his faith in her robbed all words from her throat.

Douglas mumbled a curse. “They say a man came into the alehouse, his shirt torn and splattered with blood. The scar running down his cheek was fresh, the surrounding skin red and raised—”

“She cut him down with her talon,” Malmuirie interrupted.

“Be quiet, woman.” Douglas cast a reproachful glare. “He says a beautiful temptress lured him into the forest. That she forced him to dance with her over and over until—”

“They’re saying you’re a baobhan sith.” Malmuirie clutched her hands so tight Isla knew her fingernails were sure to leave a permanent imprint. “They’re saying you’re the beauty who bewitches men with your evil charms just to drain their blood.”

Douglas threw his hands in the air. “There’s nae point asking me to tell the story if yer determined to keep babbling.”

Lachlan gave a mocking snort. “The baobhan sith are creatures of myth and legend. I’ll warrant Hendry has put something in the villagers’ ale to keep them supping until their heads are full of nonsense. A man would have to be in his cups to believe there’s a woman roaming the forest intent on puncturing a man’s neck just to drink his blood.”

They all fell silent, and Lachlan simply stared.