Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood Series Book 4) Read online

  Had Nikolai ruined his life purely out of greed?

  “Is that why you want me to offer to rent the mine?”

  Douglas raised his chin. “The lass refuses to accept charity, even from me. But if she thinks it’s earned fairly, she’ll take a different view. There’s barely enough money to f-feed her and keep her warm come winter. I know yer father’s nae looking to invest, but there’s a thick vein of iron down there. A huge deposit. I’m sure it will be worth yer while to have a look.”

  Judging by the condition of his father’s estate, there was barely a farthing to spare. While he had an income of his own, a man planning to take a wife needed to have a care what he did with his coin.

  “Without her husband’s consent it will be nigh on impossible to work the mine,” Lachlan informed him. “I know I agreed to help you, and I will, but I’ll not trouble my father.”

  In truth, he had agreed to assist Douglas without actually paying much attention to his plan. He would have sold his soul for an excuse to visit Castle Craig. Call it curiosity. Call it a need to know if the past still haunted him. Now he knew the answer.

  “I understand.” Douglas rubbed the back of his neck. “It was wrong of me to mither and moan when yer trying to forge ahead with yer own plans. No doubt, the ladies in Edinburgh are nae as wild and hostile as Highland lasses.”

  Lachlan found them vastly different. In the city, women often feigned a sweet nature to disguise vulgar habits — he preferred women who spoke their mind. Despite their material wealth, some were emotionally obsessive and needy. They paraded about in the finest silk; their bodies drenched in expensive perfume. The exotic packages failed to arouse him, and while his cock swelled sufficiently to enable him to perform, the rest of him felt numb to their charms.

  “I prefer them a little more unruly, and there’s nothing like the sweet smell of heather on a woman’s hair and skin.”

  Douglas chuckled. “Or a trail of midge bites leading from a trim ankle to a soft mound of moss.”

  Lachlan laughed too. He had missed the old man’s humour. “I’ll tell Isla that I’m interested in renting the mine. I’ll take a look down there and see if I can find a few men willing to work. We won’t make it official, and it will have to be on a small scale, but I’m sure I will be able to pay her something.”

  Douglas gasped. “Even if it’s enough to see her through the winter. If that thieving blighter has nae come back by spring, I’ll have to find a more permanent solution.”

  The thought of Nikolai returning to claim his Scottish bride roused murderous thoughts. “Then I pray I have the sense to leave here before he does, else I’m sure to find a rope around my neck.” He put his hand to his throat. “I have no wish to dangle from the gallows.”

  Forty minutes later, Lachlan strode through the hallway of Carrick Hall. In the evenings, his father could be found nestled in a chair in his study. There was little point heating the larger rooms for a man on his own and the intimate relationship he shared with his housekeeper required an element of privacy.

  As Lachlan approached the study, he met Boyd, his father’s steward, exiting the room.

  “Is he alone?” Lachlan gestured to the door.

  “Aye. I’ve left him to his supper.” Boyd’s excessive facial hair practically covered his lips; the full beard muffled the sound of his voice, and Lachlan strained to listen. “We were just going through the accounts.” Boyd clutched the leather-bound ledger tight to his chest.

  “Have you had time to compile the list of repairs I asked for?” Lachlan would make sure the house was fit for a man of his father’s growing years before he returned to Edinburgh.

  “I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow.” Boyd patted Lachlan’s upper arm. “Once you agree, I’ll oversee whatever work needs doing. There’s no need for you to wallow around here when you’d rather be enjoying the delights of the city.” Boyd gave him a knowing wink. “I hear there is much to keep you entertained there of late.”

  Lachlan smiled though he would not describe the drunken hours spent in various ladies beds as entertaining. It was simply a case of survival. “The women are amusing enough when you’re not choking on their powders and perfumes.”

  “But you prefer them a little wilder,” Boyd chuckled, “a little more unrefined.”

  His mind concocted a vision of Isla lying sprawled amongst the heather. Her hair splayed like a golden fan against the pretty purple sprigs. “The wild ones prove to be too unpredictable. I’ve come to believe no woman can be trusted.”

  “Aye, I’ll second that,” Boyd said, well aware of his history with Isla Maclean. “I assume you’ve been to Castle Craig tonight. I know it’s not my place to say, but no good will come of dwelling on the past.”

  “I had need to speak with Douglas.” And he had wanted to look into Isla’s eyes once more, to see if the evidence of her duplicity lingered there, to see if his affection had once blinded him to her deceit.

  “Whatever you say.” Boyd shrugged. The man knew him well enough to know that was not entirely the truth. “But take my advice. There’s no future for you at Castle Craig. Go back to Edinburgh and find yourself a woman to marry. Find a woman whose head is not filled with nonsense. And avoid the pretty ones as they bring naught but trouble.”

  Lachlan nodded purely to placate the man. “Perhaps you’re right. But I’ll stay until I’m confident there are enough funds available to see all the work undertaken.”

  Boyd glanced to the floor. “I can’t help but feel responsible. I should have written to you. I should have informed you as to the state of things sooner. But your father’s mind is often preoccupied with other things. He lacks all interest in business matters.”

  Lachlan grabbed Boyd’s shoulder firmly. “You already do the job of three men. My father’s lucky to have someone loyal at his side.” He nodded to the study door. “I’ll go and check on him and then, if you’ve nothing else to do, perhaps we should venture down to the alehouse.”

  He wanted to hear more about the strange habits of the mistress of Castle Craig. And a few drinks would help to banish all amorous thoughts of Isla Maclean.

  Boyd gave a disappointed sigh. “I’ve still got work to do. If my eyes can stand the strain, that is. But I have a full jug a whisky on my desk.” He tapped his finger on the side of his nose. “It’s distilled in a secret location not too far from here. We could share a glass or three while we discuss the repairs.”

  “You certainly know how to tempt a man,” Lachlan said with a grin. “I assume it’s as potent as the last bottle we shared.”

  A few glasses of whisky would surely guarantee a peaceful night’s sleep. Tomorrow he would call at Castle Craig with the sole intention of offering to rent the mine. Boyd would think him a fool. He was under no obligation to offer assistance. Indeed, he was still not sure why he felt a deep-rooted need to help. Perhaps Isla might be more hospitable next time. Either way, he would keep his promise to Douglas. A month providing financial assistance would significantly ease their burden. After that, he would concentrate his efforts on finding a wife: a timid raven-haired woman who would welcome his affections with open arms and who lacked the capacity to lie.

  Chapter 3

  Isla sat next to the fire in the Great Hall, staring at the dancing orange flames.

  Douglas was right. With funds running low, there were few options left open. If Lachlan was willing to rent the mine, then she would just have to swallow her pride and let him. Nikolai had told her never to allow anyone access to the tunnel. No one must enter the mine. If he returned, surely he would understand that their dire circumstances were reason enough to go against his wishes.

  Hearing voices echoing beyond the door, she checked the mantle clock and noted it was almost eight. Lachlan was never late. When Lachlan made a promise, he kept it.

  Isla inhaled deeply. To spend an hour alone in his company would be as torturous as being strapped to the rack for a week. To hear him speak fondly of his time in E
dinburgh would be as painful as a spear piercing her heart.

  She heard the oak door creak open, heard Douglas’ muttered words. But she did not look up until the clip of booted footsteps echoed through the room.

  “Miss Maclean.” Lachlan’s rich drawl caused her stomach to perform a range of flips and somersaults.

  “There’s no need for formalities, Lachlan.” She gripped the arms of the chair and came to her feet, daring to meet his gaze. “We’ve been friends all our lives after all.” Trying to disguise her trembling fingers, she waved at the chair opposite. “Won’t you sit?”

  Offering a curt nod, he waited for her to take a seat before dropping into the chair with languid grace. As she suspected, his long muscular legs made the space between them feel much smaller, more intimate. Perhaps she should be grateful he’d not worn a kilt. The sight of his sinewy limbs would be her undoing.

  “I’m told I owe you an apology.” Despite her best effort, she could not help but convey an air of hauteur in her tone.

  His bright blue eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “You owe me an apology only if you feel you should give one.”

  Her traitorous gaze dropped to the full lips responsible for forming the words. She remembered how soft they were; she remembered the earthy aroma of his skin. “I-I behaved like a hoyden last night.” She shook her head and blinked away the memory of his breath breezing across her cheek. “I goaded you, prodded and poked until you had no choice but to retaliate. All the strange talk in the village had set me on edge. But that is no excuse to be rude to a friend I have not seen for three years.”

  The corners of his mouth curled up into a sinful smile. Sweet Jesus. No wonder the ladies in Edinburgh fawned over him.

  “Then I accept your apology.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the air, forcing her to speak. “So, I hear you’ve not come home to stay.” Douglas had told her of his plans to return to Edinburgh, of his desire to marry. “Perhaps there are too many temptations drawing you back to the city.”

  “Isla.” He stared at her, and she tried to ignore the warmth in his voice when he spoke her name.

  She shrugged. “What?”

  “I’ve not come to banter with you.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant it can be quite dull and uninspiring here.”

  He sat back in the chair and rubbed his chin in thoughtful contemplation. “There are plenty of reasons why a man would want to come home. And there is certainly nothing here I find dull or uninspiring.” The corners of his mouth curled up slightly. “I see you still hold that mischievous glint in your eye. The room still radiates with an undeniable vitality when you’re in it.”

  She felt her face flush but resisted the urge to fan her cheeks. She thought of making a light-hearted comment but could not prevent the honest words from falling from her lips. “I’m not the same woman you remember. Many things have changed.” Namely, she drank blood and could not eat food. She shrivelled in the sunlight; bore the evil curse of a foreign devil.

  “Aye. Neither of us is as innocent and naive as we once were.”

  His comment tore at her heart. He was supposed to have been the one she married, the first and only one to claim her body and soul. She was supposed to have been the one who bore his sons. The sudden pain of loss almost choked her, and she put her hand to her mouth as she coughed.

  “Are you alright?” He sat forward. “Do you need water?”

  “No. I shall be fine.” She gulped a breath as she struggled to understand how it had all gone so terribly wrong. “Perhaps I’m coming down with a chill.”

  “Well, if you will go racing off into the forest at night, what do you expect?”

  She forced a smile. “Do you not know that’s what witches do? They dance naked under the full moon, chant their spells and lure unsuspecting gentlemen to commit a whole host of wicked deeds.”

  Lachlan rubbed his hands down his powerful thighs. “You make the art of witchcraft sound so appealing. Is that what you do every night when you’re not terrorising the village livestock?”

  Isla tore her gaze away from his large hands and sighed. “How could they think me capable of such devilish deeds? I’ve grown up with these people, known them all my life. I just pray they find an explanation, and soon.”

  “I doubt there is an animal roaming these parts that is equipped to cause such fatal injuries. It doesn’t help that you’ve only been seen out at night these last few years. Such odd behaviour is sure to make them suspicious.” His words brimmed with curiosity, and she knew it was his polite way of asking her why.

  The need to justify her actions pushed to the fore. “It is only odd if you fail to understand the circumstances.” She took a deep breath. “What I tell you now must not be repeated to another soul.” After disguising his initial look of shock, he nodded. Isla cleared her throat and continued. “Nikolai suffers from an allergy to the sun. There is a problem with his blood, and so it seems that he has infected me with the disease too.” She would trust Lachlan with her life, but that’s as much as she could say without revealing the true horror of her condition.

  His face took on a deathlike pallor. “Are you telling me you’re ill?”

  “Aye.”

  His frantic gaze raced over her body. He reached out, perhaps contemplated touching her, before dropping his hand. “You’re not … you’re—”

  “I’m not going to die.” She gave a weak chuckle. “Well, not unless the villagers decide to burn me on a pyre or bind my legs together and plunge me headfirst into the River Earn.”

  “Is it contagious? Is that why you hide away here?”

  Isla shook her head. “It is passed through contaminated blood, as in open cuts or wounds.” She could not tell him Nikolai had punctured her neck with his sharp fangs and drank from her until she could no longer stand.

  He sat back in the chair, his broad shoulders sagging. “I wouldn’t worry about the villagers. They’re just superstitious folk. Have you not thought to tell them about your condition?”

  Isla scrunched her nose in response. They would not accept her explanation. “What, and tell them I’m suffering from a strange affliction, one they’ve never heard talk of before? Then they’re sure to believe I’m cursed.” She gave a dismissive wave. Simply talking about her affliction roused painful memories. “But you did not venture out on a cold night just to hear my tales of woe. I hear you’re interested in renting the mine.”

  “If the price suits my purse.”

  There was something contrived about his choice of words. His pursed lips and tense shoulders revealed a certain discomfort. Incoherent fragments of his thoughts drifted into her mind. She sensed doubt, apprehension, felt the racing pulse that accompanies deceit. It struck her that he had no interest in the mine at all.

  “You’ve never lied to me, Lachlan. Please, do not start now.” She caught a flicker of recognition in his eyes. It was enough to confirm her suspicions. “I do not need your charity.”

  Like the last breath taken before leaving this world, his long, deep sigh expressed resignation. “Douglas told me that Nikolai left you with no means to fend for yourself.”

  Isla saw pity in his eyes. When his gaze drifted over her dress and lingered on the frayed hem, he muttered a curse.

  Once he had admired her, stood in awe. She had felt as rich and as respected as a queen. But now she had been reduced to the role of blind beggar sitting on the dirty streets pleading for scraps.

  “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.