Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood 4)

Nikolai was dead. She was a widow. The strangers spoke of a cure for her debilitating disease. The Lord had listened to her prayers. It was all too much for her to absorb.

Lachlan reached for her arm; the lady assisted him in helping to haul her to her feet. She sensed an element of hesitancy in Lachlan’s movements: a reluctance to touch her coupled with an air of apprehension one often saw when someone held a newborn child that wasn’t kin.

Douglas wrapped his arms across his chest. “I say we continue this conversation in front of the fire. The night’s as cold as Malmuirie’s—” He stopped abruptly before his tongue ran away with him and he said something to offend their illustrious guests. Waving a hand towards the door, he said, “Please, come this way, my lord.”

The marquess smiled. “You must call me Leo. When people are connected as we are, there’s no need for formalities.” The gentleman’s wary gaze travelled over her. “I assume your daughter has no objection to us entering your home.”

“Ah, Isla’s nae my daughter. But her father was like a brother to me and so that makes us kin.”

The gentleman nodded. “I understand completely.”

“I … I have no objection.” Isla’s thoughts were so chaotic, in such a state of disarray, that she doubted she’d be able to object to anything. Besides, she needed to hear all the gory details of Nikolai’s demise if she were ever to believe it was true.

Not being a man to bow to anyone, Douglas gave a curt nod. “The name’s Douglas, and this is Lachlan.”

Lachlan merely raised his chin in acknowledgement. Since witnessing her deformed features, he had struggled to look her in the eye. The invisible barrier that now stood between them felt as solid as a wall of stone, one she might never have the strength to climb. She didn’t blame him. No one wanted to see a person they were once going to marry stripped of their humanity. No one wanted to believe that the nightmares they had heard as a child were real.

The lady took her husband’s arm and turned to face her. “We have much to discuss. There are many things to tell you, many questions we have of our own.”

Isla forced a smile although guilt flared for the appalling way she had behaved. “It has been a traumatic night. I was not of sound mind when I attacked you, and so I ask for your forgiveness.”

“We are all guilty of acting in a way we later come to regret.” Ivana hugged her husband's arm, a small inconspicuous gesture yet it suggested the couple had not always been as enamoured with each other as they now appeared. “I am the last person to judge. I am the last person to condemn anyone for using violence as a way of coping with fear.”

Isla curtsied, suddenly recalling that this considerate woman, whom she would have sunk her fangs into, was a marchioness. “Thank you, my lady, for your kindness and compassion.”

“You must call me Ivana. As Leo said, we are not ones for formality. And I am certain when we leave here we shall do so as friends.”

“Can we nae continue with the pleasantries inside?” Douglas visibly shivered. “With my poor circulation, I’m sure to lose a few toes if I hover about here much longer.”

Even in her subdued mood, Isla could not help but chuckle inwardly at her old friend’s blunt manner. “Come, Douglas, we’d not want to see you spend the rest of your days hobbling about with a stick. I’ll speak to Malmuirie. She can heat some of her mint and rosemary balm and give them a thorough rub.”

“She’s nae using her potions on me.” Douglas snorted. “I’d nae let that woman near my dog let alone my feet.”

“A dram of whisky will soon get the blood flowing.” Lachlan patted Douglas on the back, his suggestion bringing a grin to both of their faces. When Lachlan’s gaze caught hers, the smile touching his lips faded.

Like the turbulent motion of the sea on a stormy night, her stomach roiled.

Being alone together in the forest, the intimate way he had taken care of her, had gone some way to healing the pain of her past transgressions. Whether they chose to ignore the fact or not, they were connected on a soul-deep level. Just when she hoped they could salvage something from the wreckage of their once blossoming relationship, he’d discovered her shameful secret. Now he did not look at her in the same warm, reassuring way. Now he was distant, aloof.

“Take our guests inside, Douglas, and show their coachman into the kitchen where Malmuirie will provide food and refreshment.” She tried to sound confident though her throat was tight from the need to repress all the things she longed to say. “I wish to speak to Lachlan.”

She feared Lachlan would decline her request. Why would he want to be left alone with a monster? But offering a curt nod, he stood silently and waited while Douglas ushered the guests inside.

“You … you do not have to stay here, Lachlan.” Relieving him of any burden was the most prominent thought to enter her mind. “You should go home. You should go to Edinburgh and forget everything you have seen and heard this evening.”

Leave here and forget you ever met me.

“You want me to pretend none of this has happened?” He stepped closer, moved as though he intended to rub her upper arms but his hands flopped awkwardly back to his side. “I’ll stay to hear confirmation that the bastard is dead. I’ll stay until I see you smile again, until the cure has rid you of these devilish aliments. Though I cannot even begin to comprehend what I have witnessed tonight. I’ll stay until the villagers no longer have a desire to drive you from your home.”

He would do what he felt was his duty. Then he would leave her.

“You do not owe me anything.” She wanted to put a hand on his cheek, to feel the tiny bristles brush against her palm. “If what these people say is true, my nightmare is finally over.”

He frowned as he stared at her mouth. “In the forest tonight, you could have told me about your illness. You told Douglas you could trust me. You listened to me mock the villagers for believing you had the ability to drain a man’s blood. You could have confided in me. Why didn’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” She gave a sorrowful sigh. To reveal her true feelings would inevitably cause them both pain. “You did not come home to hear about my woes.”

“It matters to me.” His tone held a mild hint of reproof. “There was a time when we could tell each other everything, a time when we could be ourselves without fear of censure.”