Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood Series Book 4) Page 3

  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.

  “What, do you have cloven hooves hidden under that dress?” Lachlan’s amused tone failed to lift her spirits. If the villagers ever saw her fangs, saw her lips stained burgundy red with blood, they would chain her in irons and leave her in the village square till sunrise.

  “You don’t understand, Lachlan.” Isla’s tone conveyed the gravity of her situation “The sith are said to shrivel in the sun.” She turned to Douglas. “I have told Lachlan that Nikolai infected my blood. He knows I cannot go out in the daylight, that the illness makes me react severely to the powerful rays.” Shrinking back behind Lachlan’s broad shoulders, she shook her head to convey that was the extent of their conversation. “I know I can trust Lachlan not to mention it to anyone.”

  Douglas blinked rapidly, dragged his palm down his face and exhaled. “Aye, ye’ll nae want to make it common knowledge.”

  Malmuirie finally let go of her hands. “Someone said they saw you in the forest last night. That you wear your red cape to hide the blood stains of your victims.”

  The whole thing was growing more ludicrous by the day.

  Isla thrust her hands on her hips. “The cape belonged to my mother, and they damn well know it.”

  “They say the baobhan sith are shape shifters. They say their animal of choice is a wolf.”

  “Good Lord, have they forgotten what century we’re living in? Next, they’ll be saying they’ve seen her with fangs.” Lachlan shook his head. “Ah, when they’re drunk they’ll listen to anything anyone tells them. How long have they believed these wild tales?”

  Isla pursed her lips whilst she contemplated his question. For almost a year, she had hidden away in the gloomy depths of the castle, only daring to venture as far as the garden at night.

  “In the beginning, they assumed I had gone away with Nikolai. Then one night, Douglas was taken ill, and Malmuirie went to Mrs. Brody for a tincture. The woman insisted on accompanying her and administering the medicine herself. Consequently, come the morning, the whole village knew I’d come home. As time passed and I failed to surface during the daylight hours, there was talk that I was too ashamed to face people after being abandoned by my husband. There were a few strange whisperings but nothing like this. Then shortly after you arrived home two weeks ago, a cow was found slaughtered in the pasture.”

  “There have been at least five slaughtered in the last week alone,” Douglas added gravely. “The cattle are their only means of income. It’s like robbing the bread from the mouths of hungry children. Once anger flares, it soon festers. Someone is determined to see Isla gets the blame.”

  Lachlan folded his arms across the vast expanse of his chest and turned to face her. “Do you know of anyone with a grievance against you?”

  Isla stared up into eyes as blue as the sea on a sunny day, eyes that made a woman want to dive in and explore their unfathomable depths. “Only you, Lachlan. You’re the only person I know with just cause to despise me.”

  “Me?” He slapped his hand to his chest as though mortally wounded. When he visibly swallowed down his surprise, she saw a hint of disappointment mar his face. “Despite all that has occurred, you must know I would never want to hurt you.”

  The intimacy of his tone caused the familiar pain of regret to return. “I trust you, Lachlan. I know you would never intentionally wish to cause me any harm.” Her heart never lied to her. She had faith that it conveyed the truth when irrational emotions filled her head.

  Lachlan breathed a sigh. “Then we must find out who’s behind these rumours. Someone is killing the village cattle, and we must think of a way to catch them in the act if we are to clear your name.”

  A sudden sense of relief flooded her entire body. Lachlan possessed the physical strength of a warrior of old. He had a Highlander’s resilience, an unshakable resolve. Lachlan was the only man capable of banishing her nightmares. He was the only man capable of fulfilling her dreams.

  Chapter 4

  Lachlan bid them all goodnight. He mounted his horse and rode to Carrick Hall to take supper and change his clothes before riding back to the castle. In truth, he found the vicious rumours circulating the village rather disturbing. Even the most kind-natured people behaved irrationally when it came to the loss of their livelihood. No man wanted to see his wife and children deprived of food or coal for the fire. In that respect, he had decided to keep watch on Castle Craig. Just for a few nights. Just until he could talk some sense into the locals, perhaps find another explanation for the death of their cattle.

  Nestled on the bank of the River Earn, there was only one way to access Castle Craig: over the bridge leading directly to the gatehouse and then into the bailey. Hiding in the cluster of trees opposite the gated entrance to the bridge, La
chlan had a clear view of the castle. He found a log to perch on, wrapped his greatcoat across his chest and settled down to keep watch for a few hours.

  In Edinburgh, he would often fall into bed just before dawn. A night spent in the company of a drunkard or a lady with loose morals was preferable to spending time alone with his thoughts. Indeed, his mind was akin to an annoying relative, one quick to remind a man of his shortcomings, one eager to point out his many failings.

  As expected, barely five minutes had passed before his weak mind drifted to the one person he always tried to avoid thinking of — Isla Maclean. When he’d visited her on the night before her wedding, she had been so clear in her intentions. She’d told him quite clearly that she planned to spend her life with Nikolai. Had there been even a glimmer of doubt in her determined eyes, he would not have left.

  Keen to focus on something other than a tempting beauty with golden hair, he raised the collar of his coat to shield his neck from the biting wind and stared at the castle’s facade. A silvery stream of light had broken through the mass of grey clouds, casting an eerie mist over the whole scene. Any passerby would only need to glance once at the ominous-looking building before bowing their head and hurrying on their way.

  It was not difficult to notice the shadowy figure crossing the bridge towards him. The faint light from the lantern shone like a single star in the night sky. Even with the hood of her cape raised, he knew it was Isla. She had a unique way of walking. Her short yet purposeful strides brought a smile to his lips which faded as soon as his mind began to question her intention.

  Why would a woman go out alone at night, knowing that half the village believed her responsible for a whole host of evil deeds? It didn’t make any sense. Perhaps Douglas was right, and Nikolai had poisoned her mind. Perhaps she was the one responsible for these wicked things and had done them at her husband’s behest.

  He shook his head and muttered an obscenity, refusing to believe the ridiculous train of his thoughts.

  As she closed the iron gate at the end of the bridge, Lachlan shrank back into the shadows and waited for her to pass. He would give her time to walk ahead before following stealthily behind. Taking a moment to glance back over her shoulder, she exited the muddy road to follow the path leading through the thick forest of pine trees.

  One thing was certain; she did not fear being alone in the dense woodland at night.

  With her lantern held aloft to illuminate her way, she stepped over scattered branches, moved quickly along the carpet of shed vegetation. The crunching underfoot disguised the sound of his measured steps trailing after her. The wind whistled through the trees to offer its assistance, the noise accompanied by an animal orchestra of scuttling and scratching. Once or twice she hesitated and glanced back over her shoulder, forcing him to stop. Wrapped in his over-sized coat, he knew he would appear as nothing more than another dark shadow.

  The path led out of the forest and towards the village. Isla stopped at the edge just before the canopy broke to an open sky, at a point where she had a perfect view of Fraser’s field. A small number of cattle were resting: ruminating or dozing where they lay. No doubt the villagers had herded as many as possible into the barns as a means of limiting their losses.

  She bent down and cleared a space on the forest floor, somewhere safe to place her lantern, before straightening and staring out across the field.

  “I know you’re there, Lachlan.” Her soft whisper drifted over him.

  The shock of discovery made him gasp. “You heard me?” He stepped out from his redundant hiding place, feeling a little foolish that his hunting skills had proved to be far too amateurish.

  Isla did not turn around but continued to watch the cattle. “I heard you the moment you entered the forest.”

  Lachlan snorted as he came to stand at her shoulder. “Perhaps I am not as agile or as light on my feet as I used to be.”

  “Oh, you are. I heard your thoughts and the sound of your breathing. And I can feel your presence. The air sparks and crackles when you’re near.”

  Heard his thoughts?

  Lachlan dismissed the comment and swallowed deeply. He recognised the charged feeling of excitement she spoke of so openly. “Why did you not confront me, ask me what I was doing stalking you through the woods?”

  She chuckled. “I know what you’re doing. You were watching the castle. You saw me leave and feared I was intent on mischief. You feared I was the one responsible for killing the livestock.”

  “Are you?” The words left his lips before his mind could protest.

  “No.” She did not take offence at the hint of suspicion in his tone. “But I will know who is responsible before daybreak.”

  “You plan to stand here and wait for an attack?” Lachlan asked incredulously. There were a few flaws with such a plan. The most significant one being that, if seen sneaking about on her own at night, others would instantly believe her to be the culprit. “Is it wise? What if someone notices you?”

  She lowered the hood of her green cape and glanced at him. “They’re convinced I’m a practising witch or a legendary fairy vampire out to seduce men for their blood. I’ve got nothing to lose. I cannot sit at home and wait for a baying mob to storm the castle demanding revenge.”

  An overactive imagination often clouded one’s judgement. He gazed out across the field. In the dark, the resting cattle looked like lumps of black rock protruding from a muddy green sea. Even if someone or something did appear to attack the livestock, she would struggle to identify either man or beast.

  “What makes you think there will be an attack in this particular field?”

  “After you left the castle this evening, I asked Douglas to make a list detailing how many cows have been slaughtered and on which farms. The deaths are not random. Every farmer has lost at least one animal, except for Fraser. There’s a pattern, Lachlan. Even if there were beasts roaming the forest capable of causing such devastation, I doubt they would be so particular.”

  Lachlan considered her comment. “So, do we agree a man is responsible for these crimes?”

  “We do. And it is someone with a grievance against me, which is why I think he will attack Fraser’s farm tonight. There has been a systematic effort to turn everyone in the village against me. And I want to know why.”

  Lachlan knew why. They no longer trusted her. The unexplained illness that kept her a prisoner during the day, coupled with her marriage to a stranger, had set her apart from her kin. But she was the daughter of Alistair Maclean, a man still well-respected in these parts despite having passed away. They would need proof of some wrongdoing before rousing the confidence to act.

  “I understand your motives, but you do not have to be so secretive.” Lachlan noted her upright posture, the defiant tilt of her chin. Any other woman would have barred the castle door and cried herself to sleep. “If you would have told me of your plans, you know I would have offered to help.”

  She smiled. “Did you tell me that you planned to return to the castle and keep watch?”

  Lachlan shrugged. She had a fair point. “It is not the same. I am more than capable of fighting off a pack of angry villagers.”

  She raised an arrogant brow, yet her blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’m stronger than you think.”

  He had always found her tenacity and determination highly arousing. She had a wild and passionate spirit, a fiery temper that made his cock swell. Despite only ever sharing a chaste kiss, he’d longed for the day when he could join with her, claim her as his own. The burning ache in his loins was forever present when in her company. Only now, some other man had stolen the right to lie with her, the right to love her.

  Bloody hell!

  He was not a violent man, not unless necessity demanded it, but he would drive a blunt knife through Nikolai’s black heart without giving it a second thought.

  “It’s not about being strong,” he finally said. “You’ve suffered enough at the hands of your husband. I don’t want
you to suffer anymore.”

  She turned to face him, stared into his eyes for the longest time. “I’m sorry.” Her whispered words breezed across him. “I broke a promise I never intended to break.”

  He felt the force of her declaration like a hard punch to his gut. Disappointment surfaced. It tasted bitter, a little sour in his mouth. “I hear Nikolai was extremely persuasive.”

  Her desperate gaze searched his face, her eyes swimming with an emotion he struggled to define. “I don’t love him, Lachlan. I never have.”

  Invisible hands squeezed his chest, tighter, tighter, forcing all the air from his lungs. Resentment bubbled away inside. He wanted to lash out at nothing, punch at the wind as it whistled through the trees, a virulent assault on fate, on coincidence, on whatever mystical force had seen fit to rob him of the only thing he’d ever wanted. It took every effort not to roar fiercely at the heavens: a warrior’s battle cry, something aggressive, inarticulate.

  “You don’t love him, yet you married him.” He tried to suppress the venom in his tone. “It does not make any sense.”

  “It doesn’t make much sense to me either.” Isla glanced down, slid her booted foot back and forth over the dead leaves. “It’s complicated. There is much you do not understand.”

  He touched her then. He could not help himself.

  Taking her chin between his finger and thumb, he forced her to look at him. Her skin felt warm and soft despite the crisp chill in the air. While the perfume of pine swirled around them, his head was filled with the unique womanly scent that clung to her hair, clothes and skin: a smell so potent he inhaled deeply.

  “Tell me you had no choice.” His gaze settled on her mouth and he brushed the pad of his thumb once over her bottom lip. “Tell me there was nothing I could have done to prevent him from marrying you.”

  She visibly shivered as he dropped his hand. “There is nothing either of us could have done.” She sighed; her deep, sorrowful exhale mimicked his thoughts. “Douglas said he remembered Nikolai coming here years ago when I was just a girl. He came with another man, a scholar. While Nikolai was not suffering from the blood affliction, the older man explained how his skin was sensitive to the sun. They persuaded my father to grant them access to the mine and to the chambered cairn on the ancient Pictish site that borders our land.”