15
SHE’D started toward the house when Niall came back out. She’d intended to ask him what he wanted for dinner, but at his pensive expression, she changed tactics.
“Are you in there eating SpaghettiOs?”
Brooding turned to surprise at her obvious attempt to tease him, but he recovered quickly. “I’m making dinner for you tonight. You’re goin’ to eat half o’ the pizza with me.”
“I will not.”
He grinned then, that wicked smile that could actually curl her toes, because they dug into the earth the minute he did it. “We’ll argue about it after.”
“After what?”
His gaze roamed over her body. She’d served at vampire dinners involving elaborate servant orgies. Stephen regularly called her to his room to service his needs, requiring her to pad barefoot from her quarters, completely naked. The staff and other servants she passed found it unremarkable, unconcerned about her appearance.
The way he looked at her now, clad only in Evan’s shirt, was not unconcerned at all. He took his time with it, not answering her right away. “Christ, we should make ye stay like this all the time.”
Even after a demanding session like she’d just experienced, she was trained to be sexually prepared at the merest hint of vampire interest, her p-ssy automatically lubricating itself, her nipples tightening. Niall, being a third mark, would have no problem responding in kind. His nostrils flared, eyes registering her reaction.
“Christ, lass. You’re going to kill me.”
Her pulse leaped in her throat as he took a step closer. “You need dinner,” she said, but her voice was unsteady to her own ears. The expression on his face became more intent, male senses recognizing female compliance, and becoming even more concentrated on his desires as a result. “But not pizza.”
“Aye, pizza.” His brown eyes glinted. “There’ll be no arguin’ that. But first, we have to deal with the other matter. Ye were tearing yourself down in your mind today. At the store. Evan told me. Ye recall what happens when ye insult his property.”
Oh no. Evan’s shirt had warmed her, though the gesture itself, his touch, his possession, had kindled the small furnace in her vitals even more. Niall’s look now only increased it. She didn’t want to lose all that delicious heat in the cold creek. She shook her head, backing away. “No. I’m sure he misunderstood.”
“I’m entirely sure he didnae, lass. All-powerful vampire and all that.”
When he lunged at her, she dashed behind the picnic table, sending the tails of Evan’s shirt flying away from her bare backside. When she spun to face him, her hair swirling around her face, Niall eyed her appreciatively. He began to stalk her. “I’ll probably need to hold ye under the water a minute or two. Get ye nice and cold so you’ll want to cling to me after.”
“I think you’re taking undue liberties with Master’s instructions.” She circled the table as he followed her from the other side. The moment he started around the far corner, she dashed for the cabin door. She’d lock him out, entice him with dinner smells so he’d forget all about throwing her into that creek. When he caught her at the door, she was laughing, which morphed into a squeal as he banded his arm across her chest. She lunged forward, offsetting his balance, allowing her to duck out from under his grip and make it back to the picnic table.
Sparring with other servants was a regular activity, given that there might be reason to defend the Master’s home or belongings. Or prove oneself against the power games that other servants sometimes played. But the last time she’d wrestled for fun and sport was with Adam when they were young.
Niall was like a cougar, not stalking dinner, but playing with his mate. Had Evan given Niall the parting command to throw her in the creek because it might result in this, lightening his heart and drawing it from the dark place it had gone? Had the vampire also known she would figure it out, giving her a service she could do for them both? The confidence that she was right gave her a bolstering warmth, something she was reluctantly certain she would need in the next few moments.
With a bellow, Niall charged, coming over the picnic table, effectively chasing her out from behind it. Around the yard and cabin they went. He always managed to block her so she couldn’t get into the cabin and lock him out, but she was nimble enough to keep out of his clutches.
“Quick and small have their uses,” she noted when she was behind the temporary protection of the well. “Bears are fierce, but they’re big and lumbering, too.”
“Hmm.” He lunged again, and she relocated to a rock outcropping almost taller than herself, but she could still see over it. Since the creek was gurgling behind her, she’d taken a risk, getting so close to where he’d intended to throw her, but he hadn’t left her much choice. She’d been herded. Wily Scot.
“Bears can sprint, Alanna,” Niall said, giving her a portentous look. “Especially when we’re hungry.”
She shrieked and bolted as he came around the rocks, moving faster than he’d yet moved. Though he had to put three hundred years of agility and speed into it, her satisfaction was short-lived. He caught her about the waist, flipped her in the air and slung her over his shoulder, clamping his large hand over her ass, Evan’s shirt sliding up her spine.
He hadn’t anticipated the tactics a sister had learned against a twin brother. Reaching down the loose waistband of his jeans, Alanna grabbed the edge of his boxers and yanked. It wasn’t as effective as briefs, but the wedgie would put an uncomfortable pressure on the sizeable package she knew the man had.
“Should have worn a kilt,” she suggested when he snarled at her. She squealed as he gave her still very sore ass a smart pop.
“I wasna planning to enjoy this, but now—” As he shifted, preparing to heft her, she grappled his body like a cat digging in her claws.
“I’ll never bake you cookies again.”
“Aye, ye will, because you’ll make them for Evan and I’ll eat the rest.”
“I’m . . . not . . . going . . . in . . . alone,” she gritted, clamping onto that muscular torso with arms and legs, bringing them face-to-face. He caught his hands in her hair, tilting her head back so he could eye her with malevolent, amused intent. He looked about to kiss her, her lips parting in involuntary anticipation, but he started tickling her instead, making her squirm and squeal, loosening her hold.
“You bastard,” she pronounced, right before she hit the cold water with a resounding splash.
He was on his ass on the bank, roaring with mirth, when she surfaced. Though she was freezing, the sight caught her, him laughing like a boy. She was glad to give that back to him. He’d been too serious since the mall episode, and his reaction to Evan’s statement about wanting to protect them both gave her a remarkable realization, one too remarkable for her to acknowledge on her own.
You are not alone in your fear of your fate, yekirati. It’s a shadow over his heart, just as it is mine. Please him, make him laugh. It will help dispel the shadows for you both.
Maybe not just the two of them, she thought. She slid through the water, teeth chattering, but the warm weight of her heart, pounding in her chest at such a miraculous admission, balanced it. She was cared about. How much or how little was inconsequential—she’d never had the sense of any degree of it before. That shouldn’t matter to her, but it did, and Evan made it seem like that was okay.
But her Master had also given her a charge, and she was more than willing to carry it out.
The bucket was on the bank, right there by the stump. And Niall was not the only one who could move quickly.
He’d thought the fight would go out of her with her dunking. By the time he realized otherwise, she was upon him, full bucket in hand. A startled exclamation and she’d doused him full in the face and chest. Then she dropped the bucket and ran.
He caught her right before the cabin door. He took her down to the ground, his body covering hers, and though she struggled to flip him, to break the hold, he had an attack strategy she hadn’t expected. Evan’s shirt was glued to her body. When he lifted off of her enough to bring her up onto her hands and elbows, his body still covering hers, he skimmed his hand beneath her, over the stiff, cold points of her breasts, down along her abdomen.
“Stay on your elbows, lass. Pull your hair over your right shoulder.”
She was breathing hard, shivering, but that heat against her back spread between her legs. When she obeyed, he cupped her breasts again, fondling them, enjoying the tight tips as he pressed his lips to the small of her back where he peeled Evan’s shirt away from her damp flesh.
“When he had ye bent on the picnic table I wanted ye tied there, your pale arse in the air, your quim slick and pink, ready.” The accent got stronger, its effect devastating. She imagined him walking right out of the eighteenth century, a Highland Scot as wild and untamed as the land itself. She closed her eyes, her body rippling in response. “Would ye like that, lass?” he rumbled.
“Yes.”
That dual level of approval coursed through her, increasing the heat in her core. Once again, admitting her own desires made these two men even harder. Her own needs and wants were something this vampire and his servant demanded to know.
Good girl.
Won’t you come join us again, Master? Evan’s voice made her push her luck.
You are a shameless wanton, but no. I will enjoy this through Niall’s mind and yours. Give me that gift, Alanna. Let me feel everything you want to feel under his touch. He is an incomparable lover.
She breathed out a low hum of pleasure as Niall opened his jeans. He paused, making an adjustment with a huff of sound. “Have to get my drawers out of my arse, thanks to you, muirnín. And just for that . . .”
He put a firm hand on the back of her neck, holding her there, and gave her several firm smacks across her abused buttocks, making her yelp.
“Lucky I didn’t use this.” On their last dash past the table, he’d retrieved the belt Evan had used. Now he looped it around her thighs, cinching them tight just above her knees. “No more running from me tonight.”
“No, sir.” She moaned as he captured her breasts again in his large hands, fondling and kneading, brushing his fingers over the nipples, rubbing them until she was squirming from the sensations shooting through her body from those sensitive zones. When his cock probed her wet folds, she was eager, ready. With her thighs held together like that, it made the entry even tighter, more excruciating, and would give her a slow build to climax. Niall had some of the same pleasurably sadistic tendencies as their Master, when it came down to it. And she didn’t mind.
He was in the mood to pleasure himself. She wondered if he knew how hot it made her, being so obviously used for his own desires. He started thrusting in, good and deep, grunting his enjoyment of it.
“So hot and wet . . . so f*cking tight.”
His strokes became stronger, his testicles slapping against her *, but not enough, not enough friction. She pressed back against him, ground against him, wanting more, needing more. He gave her backside another sharp slap, making her behave, but then he reached beneath her to capture a nipple and flick and tweak it, increasing the sensation.
“Oh . . . Niall . . . God . . .”
“F*ck, you have gorgeous hair.” He wrapped his hands in it, pulling her head back, his knuckles pressed into a mass of silken strands between her shoulder blades as he straightened to make his thrusts faster, more intense. She dug her fingers into the ground, holding on, because he was powerful enough to drive her into the earth itself. She could feel his strength, restrained to protect her far-too-human frailty, even as he was letting enough of his third-mark strength loose to make her feel totally taken.
He released, hot seed spurting through her, making her groan with the shooting pleasure of it, her body quivering, cunt squeezing him, so close to that pinnacle, but needing his help to get her there. She wanted it with a fierce intensity that could turn her into a snarling cat. She scrabbled at the earth, raked her nails over it, meeting him thrust for thrust, the earth becoming mud against her forearms, her knees dug into it, because they’d both dripped water into the ground they were plowing.
As he finished, he pulled out, making her cry out in angry need. He gave her a sharp pinch for that which made her bite back any more protests. Sliding his hands under her thighs, he lifted her hips up to his mouth, keeping only her elbows in contact with the ground.
She moaned as he put his hot mouth on her still spasming p-ssy, began to work her, sucking her *, eating her out with lashing tongue, sucking lips, nipping teeth.
She came with a gush of fluids that he lapped and suckled like mother’s milk, making noises of hunger and approval as she screamed, echoing out across the mountains. When she was shuddering through the last spasms, he put her back on all fours and plunged into her once more, letting her feel that fullness, that possessive branding, the aftershocks exploding into another orgasm.
As he wound down, he fell over her body, hands planted into the mud on either side of hers, cock still buried deep, pelvis flush against her backside, knees on either side of her bound thighs.
“You’re a treasure, lass,” he muttered. “An absolute f*cking treasure. Anyone makes you feel different, me and Evan will take his f*cking heid.”
Amazing words. A powerful experience that woke her several times during her early morning sleep, shivering with the need for their hands on her again. Her punishment after dinner, sitting in that chair, seeing Niall’s gaze course over her naked body, lingering on her exposed cunt, had left her feverish. Especially when Evan released her two hours later, only to order her to go to bed without further relief. They really had unleashed something in her, a need to touch and be touched that seemed to be growing, sweeping over her in heavier waves, until she put her hand between her legs and held it there as she slept, a pressure that couldn’t replace them, but comforted and soothed . . . somewhat. It was never-ending, this feeling of being wanted . . . desired . . . cared for.
She’d had such a malady before, in the days before she was assigned to Stephen. A girl’s romantic imaginings, wanting to be everything to her Master. After he’d taken her virginity, then ordered her to assume her household duties, she learned the most critical InhServ lesson. She’d imagined herself becoming the center of his universe, a reward for her making him the center of hers. She was not a girl in love, however, able to moon about, wanting to be touched and loved. He was the center of her universe always, while she was merely a star that shone for his benefit.
For a month, she’d punished herself daily with a steel-tipped cat for the unforgivable emotional faux pas. Just as it had kept the monks’ minds away from temptation during medieval times, the bite of the whip served a useful purpose. It tore the flesh from her back in the morning, but she was healed by the time her Master rose at dusk. Nothing unsightly about her appearance to inconvenience him, and her emotions were channeled only to his needs.
She understood her human reaction to certain stimuli. Such emotions couldn’t be prevented, but an InhServ learned to suppress them so they didn’t interfere with one’s responsibilities. However, instead of suppressing them, Evan wanted her to feel such things. Was it possible she could channel the energy into service, and still obey the InhServ code?
She had an immediate chance to test it. As she lay there with her hand between her thighs, Niall came into their bedroom and kissed her even more awake, until she was clinging to his neck and he was holding her hard against his body.
“No time for that, muirnín,” he muttered against her mouth. “Much as I hate to say it. We have to travel today. Time to pack.”
Anticipation is part of the pleasure. Evan’s voice stroked her. While we travel, you’ll put your hand between your legs again, Alanna. You will pleasure yourself for us. Well, for me. Niall will be driving, and we wouldn’t want to encourage unsafe driving practices.
“Bastard,” Niall snorted, but his mouth was busy across her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth.
Evan’s mind-voice changed, became more intent. I want to see her get lost in it.
She was lost in it now. Niall groaned against her lips as she deepened the kiss, using her tongue to tease as she slid a leg up over his hip, pressing herself against his groin.
“Needy wee thing,” he muttered. “F*ck. Evan . . .”
Alanna. The sharpness in her Master’s voice recalled her instantly. What was she doing? Startled, she pushed away from Niall, moving to the edge of the bed, trying to get her breath.
“I’m sorry. I apologize, Master. I don’t know . . . it won’t happen again.” She hurried to the bathroom, not looking back as she closed the door, put her hands to her heated cheeks. Was it possible she didn’t have the strength to manage or suppress it? It seemed to be taking her over.
In the bedroom, Niall pressed his forehead to the quilts. He realized his mistake as the warmth of her body, the smell of her, filled his senses. Straightening, he willed his aching cock to ease off so the fit of his trousers wouldn’t be this damn uncomfortable. Was it necessary to be that harsh? ’Tis new to her, the wanting. And a pure pleasure to watch, even if it’s pure hell to resist.
She’s learning to be a different kind of servant, but she’s still a servant, Niall. She needs the boundaries, the reminders. For someone with her training, it’s critical.
Ye just wanted to deprive me.
There was that added benefit.
Niall had a creative response to that, to which Evan responded in kind. The Scot heaved out a sigh, shoved off the bed. “Join me in the kitchen,” he called out to Alanna. “We’ll make a quick breakfast, then start packing.”
Evan, down in the cellar, gazed at the final prints drying, but his mind wasn’t on them. Niall wasn’t the only one aching. He’d wanted to join them both last night, as well as this morning. Alanna had slept in the back bedroom with Niall last night, not just because she wanted to be near his servant. She’d already made the connection that Evan could remain in that bedroom, at least during the early dawn hours, and she wanted to be accessible to both her Master and his servant. She was chastising herself for letting her passion override his command, but he himself had never managed the heady experience of a servant so committed to pleasing him. If it had been the rote response of her training, he could have contained his own response, but she was right. They’d opened something inside of her, something he was fairly sure Stephen had never discovered, the true gem of what she wanted.
A Master who would let her love as well as serve him.
He’d proven to her that, when her will and desire were added into the mix, it increased the pleasure for her Master, but in his self-appointed position as mentor for that sensual treasure trove, he hadn’t expected what it would do to him and Niall. His servant was getting as captured as his Master by the intriguing contradiction of Alanna. Since becoming Evan’s servant, Niall had enjoyed many women and some men as part of their travels. But he hadn’t truly wanted a female heart since the death of his wife. The circumstances of her death, his guilt about not loving her as much as he felt he should, had kept a wall in place.
Alanna was breaking that wall down, in more ways than one, and she didn’t even realize it. It’s obvious how much he loves you . . .
Evan shook his head, made himself focus on the photos again. Soon he’d have to sleep, and he needed to pack these up now, so that when he rose at dusk they’d be ready to get on the road.
The rest would figure itself out. Or not. Small fish in a big pond, he reminded himself. He was valued among the vampires because of Lord Uthe’s sponsorship. Like Alanna recognizing it didn’t matter who she served, she was still a servant, he had no illusions as to how much influence that sponsorship gave him.
Some of his original humanity remained, but Evan thought it was more his isolated circumstances than humanity that gave him latitude to exercise things that most vampires didn’t. Compassion, interest in the minds of their servants, what they were thinking, feeling, wanting . . . Niall wasn’t all wrong about the blank canvas. Sometimes Evan did have to remind himself there was a value separate from his artistic impulses. A separate soul.
But a soul that was his. It was hard to resist the vampire compulsion that told him his servant was all his, to do with as he would. And now he had two of them.
But that compulsion also helped him do what he’d done earlier, keeping Alanna mindful of her service. Raised from birth to be an InhServ, mandated to come to that service a virgin, untouched except for the clinically in-depth sexual training they were required to have, she’d never experienced the glow of first love, that overwhelming rush of emotions that attended it, except in her early naive fantasies of what a servant was. As she herself had recognized, her fervor was like that of a Catholic schoolgirl, her strict upbringing creating a rhapsodic relationship with Christ, confusing it with mortal passion and desire.
As pleasurable as it was to see her explore her real feelings, he wouldn’t let her completely lose her compass. Despite what Niall thought, Evan wasn’t ignorant of the consequences of that. He was in charge of protecting her, and he didn’t see that as limited to the time she was under her direct protection. The blank canvas wasn’t blank. There were obstacles already painted onto it. No matter how much the artist wanted to step back and watch her discover the woman beneath the InhServ—the true reason she was such a remarkable servant—he wouldn’t let her drop all her defenses.
Over the years, Niall had become skilled at packing up quickly. Thanks to Alanna, the job became even more efficient. He’d anticipated having everything transported down the mountain to the waiting RV by dusk. Instead, they finished by midafternoon, so he enjoyed playing cards with Alanna and watching her prepare him dinner from the few provisions they’d left for that purpose.
She stayed quiet most of the day. Whenever they brushed hands in the course of their duties, she would still, like a bird deciding whether to take flight, then resume moving as if nothing had happened. When he met her eyes, hers would often skitter away as she smiled at something he said. He wanted to kiss her about twenty times, but held himself back, mindful of Evan’s words. Not so much because he was obeying, but because he did understand the other man’s logic.
Whatever it helps to tell yourself, my ever-obedient servant.
That made him snort, in a way that won a curious look from Alanna. It was almost midday at that point, so it was the last time he’d heard from Evan. His words had been slurred even then, telling him the idiot had pushed his waking hours longer than he should, probably finishing up his last film roll.
Since they had some spare time, Niall took her on a quick hike to a waterfall surrounded by jewel-toned autumn trees. The magical place won him the pleasure of seeing a rare, wide smile on her face. She leaned out on slippery rocks to put her hand under the water and feel its flow. It was the most natural thing in the world to hold her about the waist to keep her steady. When she looked up at him, eyes shining, he was lost in her brown eyes like a starstruck lad. It was absurd, and yet he couldn’t help smiling down at her.
Once they were back on level ground, they stayed by the falls for a while. He whittled at a knot he found, and when she came to sit by him, she studied it. “It’s a bear,” she exclaimed.
He nodded, handed it to her. “Rough work, but bears are rough creatures. Best not make them too refined.”
She turned it over in her hand. “It would be an impossible task, anyway.”
“Hmmph.” He bumped her with his shoulder, and she smiled at him again.
“Why . . .” She paused. “May I ask you a question?”
“Depends on the question. Have tae ask it, no?”
“Evan said you’ve never wanted to go back to Scotland. Would you tell me why?”
He could tell she was worried she’d bring on a dour mood, so he made an effort to appear casual about it. “People tend to romanticize things. We were hungry to the point o’ starving, cold in the winter. What we had as roads were as likely to kill ye, if you didnae turn into an old man trying to get anywhere on them. Nothing could change your lot in life, nothing that wasnae against God’s law or man’s. By the time I was born, the clans were long gone, that community and solidarity my grandda got all misty-eyed about. A lot of folks went to America, Canada, Jamaica . . . if they could figure out how to afford it.”
His lip curled. “Walter Scott wrote his Rob Roy tale and reinvented Scotland, making it seem this place of romantic, undaunted heroes . . . For my time, that was an imaginary place. Scotland was strong enough to become its mythology later but I . . . couldnae reconcile myself to the lie and return. Evan has never made me go back. I’m . . . grateful to him for that.”
“I saw the drawing of your children. In the box in the bedroom. I wasn’t prying,” she added hastily. “Just checking . . .”
He shook his head. “You’re welcome to look through my life, lass. There’s not much to it. Evan sketched that on one of his visits to my home, watching the wee ones play by the fire. He won a smile out of Ceana, for no one but wealthy folk had pictures of their bairns.”
Alanna sensed it wasn’t a moment for contact, but she drew close enough she was folded on her knees next to his elbow, where he sat on a rock by the creek. “In fact, Evan’s picture, for all it was just a pencil drawing, was much better. Those fancy portraits in the homes of noble folk were mostly poor, stiff things. There was even an artist traveling about Scotland around that time who had a stack of preset poses. He’d put the likeness of your head on top of whichever one you wanted.” He gave her a wry grin. “’Twas one o’ many reasons I was suspicious of Evan. No one drew pictures of trees, rocks, hills. What was the purpose o’ that? He was a crazy heidbanger, was all, and somehow had enough money to support the nonsense. But the day he drew that picture, the wee ones were playing, and . . .”
He stopped, staring at the waterfall. “For a long time, I carried it in a pouch to protect it, but things happened to damage it. Couldnae bring myself to throw it away, even when the lines all faded away. Then one day, Evan happens tae see it. A couple days later there’s a new one in my box, redrawn, just as he had done that day. Only . . .”
A smile touched Niall’s face, twisting Alanna’s heart. “He’d added a dimple to Eric’s face. Said he’d forgotten it that day, having sketched it out so quickly. ‘Your son had a dimple,’ he says, ‘Just like you do.’ Then he touches it.” Niall brushed the corner of his mouth. Alanna, unable to restrain herself any longer, did the same. Niall’s gaze turned to her.
“I couldnae give my children and wife smiles and plenty that often. Not until Evan came. I worked hard for him, I did, but yet, he was the one who gave them that. That hurts a man’s pride hard, no?”
“You never gave up on your family. You never stopped trying to take care of them.” She touched his knee. “Food, warmth, safety, those might be vital, but I think love is the only thing that makes their lack bearable.”
“It’s poor comfort, when all’s said and done,” he said shortly. “If you’ve never known the lack of the vital things, you’ll not say otherwise to me.”
“No,” she agreed. “But I know what the lack of love feels like. You never had that, Niall. Your wife and children loved you, and it’s obvious you loved them.”
“Not enough,” he said. “Never enough. I guess America is where Ceana thought I’d go after she died, but she knew Evan was the key to it, even then.” He swallowed, looked down at the stone between his splayed feet. “‘You tell Mr. Evan to take guid care of my man.’ That’s what she said. ‘For he’s a guid lad.’”
Alanna linked her fingers with his. “Did you tell Evan that?” she asked after a long silence.
“No.” Niall shook his head. “But I guess he knew, because he did, aye?”
“You’ve taken care of each other.” Alanna could tell Niall didn’t want to talk about it anymore, though, so she simply laid her head on his shoulder and they sat together, watching the sun descend over the trees.
“Why do you sometimes whittle stakes when you’re with Evan?”
“Oh, that.” He snorted. “It started as a bit o’ a joke. Ye might have noticed he sometimes stomps on my nerves?”
“No. I didn’t notice at all.”
He pinched her. She fended him off, linking fingers with him during the short tussle, and won a true smile from him. He pulled her up onto the rock between his thighs, holding her there with his jaw pressed to her temple, his hands linked around her waist.
“One day I said I was goin’ to get a stake and put us both out of our misery. We were in some godforsaken corner o’ the world, a swamp where the mosquitoes could drain ye faster than a vampire, but he wanted to take pictures of it during a bloody fog, which took about two weeks to happen. Long as I stayed near him, the mosquitoes didnae bother me, since vampires are bug repellents. Have ye noticed?”
She shook her head. “We weren’t in outdoor situations much.”
“Aye, Stephen’s not really the outdoorsy type, is he? Anyhow, having to stick that close or be sucked dry brought my temper to a boil. Coming back tae camp one day, I found he’d collected a fair pile of cypress knees. Evan told me to make as many stakes as I’d like, and that he’d let me stake him with all of them, but for the love o’ God to please leave off my carping and complaining until he got this one shot done.”
“So whenever you’re mulling on something about him that irritates you . . .”
“I carve a stake. ’Tis therapy.” He grinned at her. “’Tis also a useful thing to have. We’ve several occasions where we’ve had to use them.”
“You’ve killed a vampire?” Alanna’s eyes widened at the thought.
“That’s an executable offense for a servant, aye? Unless I’m aiding my Master in a fight.” Niall inclined his head. “The vampire had him down, and I’d cut his servant’s throat. Bastard wasna expecting that. While he was recovering from the shock to his system, I took my shot, right between the shoulder blades.”
Niall recalled it, that moment of squeezing panic when he thought he was going to be too late. As Evan had met his gaze, recognized the possibility of it, Niall had seen regret in the vampire’s gaze, as well as felt it in his mind. Regret that he wasn’t strong enough to preserve his own life, and thereby protect Niall’s. Niall had staked the attacker with a savage vengeance, pulled his body off Evan’s before it stopped twitching.
“If anyone’s goin’ to stake him,” he said, forcing himself to sound casual again, “it’s going to be me.”
She touched his arm. “You didn’t even think of your own life, did you? Just his.”
“Aye.” But that hadn’t surprised him. What had surprised him was that Evan had done the same.
“You two are like brothers . . . but not.”
“Thank God. While I’m hoping He’s a bit more flexible than I was taught, He’s pretty clear on incest. Plus . . . Evan as my brother . . .” He shuddered as if touched with a slimy worm, making her chuckle. She covered it with her hand, though he saw the dancing light in her serious brown eyes. “He didnae tell ye what I told him when I first found out he was a vampire, did he?”
She shook her head.
“He’d already marked me, so the deed was done. But after he explained what he was, I thought it over, then told him I was relieved. I was far more worried about being indentured to a Jew than a vampire.”
She couldn’t bring her hand up fast enough this time and he caught it, grinning at her as she laughed. He’d been right. Her laughter could turn a man’s heart over in his chest.
At length, though, she sobered. “Do you think there’s a Hell?”
He knew where her thoughts had gone. Reversing their grips, he held her firmly. “I dinnae care what the vampire world says. It may be that ye follow your Master into an afterlife. But if there’s the kind of God there should be, He willnae be tying you to that bastard for eternity, Alanna.”
“I wish . . .” She looked down at the bear he’d given her.
“Tell me, muirnín.”
“I wish Evan would give me the third mark. I don’t care what it might do to me. Even if it tore me apart, even if it’s not strong enough to hold me here, maybe it would hold me . . . somewhere, until he came. I’d wait forever. I wouldn’t mind.”
“I know you wouldnae.” He slid his knuckles along her face. “Though you’re not thinking this through properly. You’ve known Evan only a short while, and Stephen suffers in comparison to cow manure, let alone an obsessive-compulsive artist who has no clue what a proper vampire is supposed to do.”
Her lips curved. She turned in his arms, putting her own around his shoulders and staying that way. He could feel her holding the bear against his neck. Pulling gently on her arm, he brought it back to her lap and closed her fingers more firmly over the small carving.
“I want ye to keep this.”
When her expression got that look he was beginning to anticipate, he wanted to snap at her. What did it matter if she kept something for herself now? But he’d try to respect what she held so sacred.
“Hold on to it for me,” he said, and her tension eased. She nodded.
If she was taken from them, he’d remember he gave her something for her own, even if only for a little while. Then he would be gone as well. What would Evan do with it, as well as his mementoes? After three hundred years, what retained value wasn’t physical, any items kept usually symbols of the intangible. Able to fit in that one wee box. When he died, someone who cared might keep something from it, but it would be a struggle to know what to do with the rest. The world was an ever-changing landscape, and only memory kept it the same.
My memory is quite sharp, Niall. And long. Come back to the cabin. The obsessive artist is up and it’s time to go.
Well, thank the saints. We could have been on our way three hours past, if ye weren’t such a wean about the sunlight.
Grinning at Evan’s response, he pulled Alanna to her feet. “He’s ready,” he told her. He bent, kissed her soft mouth. When she leaned into him, he held her against his body, felt her tension and worry. He’d find ways to distract her. She was proving herself adept at doing that for him, and he was determined to do as proper a job.