Highland Thirst (12 page)

“It
can be a very sensuous thing but it doesnae have to leave one feeling
needy
,”
he said. “To me it has always been a matter of necessity.”

“Ye
said ye dinnae have to drink blood unless ye are ill or hurt or the like.”

“True,
but it keeps me strong if I have some every fortnight or so.”

“Oh.”
The idea of him drinking the blood of some other woman, of holding her close
and rubbing her back, made Brona clench her teeth against a wave of jealousy.

This
time Heming did not even try to hide his grin as he nibbled on her ear,
enjoying the little shivers that went through her. “I too felt
needy
that time ye let me taste the essence of ye, Brona Kerr. E’en though I was near
death, I felt verra
needy
indeed.”

Brona
could hear the hint of laughter in his voice but did not feel that he was
making fun of her. She suspected she had revealed her discomfort with the
thought of him doing that with some other woman and his male pride was rearing
up. When he turned her around and pulled her into his arms, she pressed her
cheek against his chest and fought to control the urge to blush. If she acted
embarrassed or annoyed, it would probably only feed his arrogance.

Heming
kissed the top of her head. “I have ne’er tasted anything as sweet, my Brona.”

She
thought that she must be rather pathetic since she found that a heady
compliment, but then shook aside that thought and asked the question she had
been planning to ask. “Do ye need some now?”

“Ah,
Brona love, I would like nothing more than to taste ye whilst I am hale and
strong, to feel your life’s blood warming my insides and making me strong, but
I fear I best nay do that right now.”

She
smiled faintly against his chest. “Because it will make ye feel
needy
?”

“Aye,
ye wretch. Verra needy.”

“And
ye might toss me to the ground and have your wicked way with me?”

“In
a heartbeat.” He tilted her face up to his and kissed her, making no effort to
hide the desire for her that was always there.

Breathless
from his kiss, Brona stared at him when he finally ended it. He was looking at
her in a way that made her want to toss him on the ground, but she fought to
rein in the need he stirred within her. With Colin, Peter, and Fergus but a few
yards away, it was not a good time to be rolling about in the heather. For all
she was worried about being seen as no more than his leman once they reached
Cambrun, she had the feeling she would allow him to take her right to his bed
the minute they stepped inside the gates of his home.

“Rabbit’s
ready!” bellowed Colin.

Heming
laughed softly and pulled away from her. “I think Colin needs a few lessons on
how to slink away from one’s enemy.” He took Brona by the hand and led her back
to their camp.

“Do
ye think Hervey is anywhere near us?” Brona asked, unable to fully smother a
stab of fear. The more she thought about how Hervey would react to what she had
done, the more she was terrified of being caught by him.

“I
have seen no sign of him, but I fear that doesnae necessarily mean he isnae
near. We travel at night and he and his men wouldnae do that, so I feel we are
safe. I will feel e’en better when we reach Cambrun on the morrow.”

She
took a deep breath to calm herself and push aside her fear. “He went in the
opposite direction, so it isnae as if he will pass by us as he rides back to
Rosscurrach.”

Heming
was tempted to let her think that, to comfort herself with that thought, but he
had always felt that, when it came to danger, it was always best to know the
full truth no matter how bad it was. “He may nay have gone all the way to
Carbonnel and he may have stayed a verra short time. We are walking and he is
on horseback. I dinnae think he can be close by but I willnae lessen my guard.”

“Nay,
that is probably wise. Nay verra comforting, but verra wise.”

Reaching
the camp, Brona sat down and accepted a hearty serving of rabbit. Colin was
very good at cooking game and she knew she would enjoy every bite. He also
tended to give her very large servings and she had the feeling he felt she
needed to put some more meat on her bones. The faint hint of amusement she saw
glittering in Heming’s golden eyes told her he thought the same and she gave
him a brief scowl before starting to eat. She knew she needed the sustenance
for the journey still ahead of them.

It
was several hours and several miles later that Heming suddenly grabbed her by
the arm and halted her. He hissed an order to stop at their three companions,
who hastily obeyed him. Brona had noticed how quickly her men had accepted
Heming as their leader and she had the sinking feeling that whatever had caused
Heming to stop and silence them would show her exactly why her men felt Heming
was a leader.

She
tried to listen as he did, but could hear nothing. The growing blackness of his
scowl told her that he could, however. When he suddenly shoved her into a thick
stand of shrubbery, she yelped softly as the thorns cut through her clothing
and stabbed her skin.

“Stay
there, Brona,” ordered Heming. “If aught happens to us try to get away and
continue on to Cambrun but remember to stay hidden as much as possible.”

Struggling
to free her clothes of the brambles as silently as she could, Brona whispered, “Is
it Hervey?”

“Aye,”
he whispered back as he silently drew his sword, the other men doing the same. “He
must have run a few horses to death.”

“He
heads toward Cambrun hoping to find ye,” said Peter in an equally soft voice.

“I
believe so and he must be feeling verra desperate to come so close to a place
he feels houses demons.” Heming cursed under his breath as he thought of how
close he had gotten to the safety of his home, but not close enough. He looked
toward the place he had sent Brona to hide and inwardly grimaced when he saw
that there were a lot of bramble bushes in the thicket. “Dinnae move from
there, love, unless ye have no other choice.”

“I
willnae.”

The
very last thing Brona wished to happen to her was to be caught in Hervey’s
hands. Right beside her cousin would be Angus, who was anxious to get his hands
on her, too. An icy shiver went down her spine and she prayed it was not an
omen of some kind. Not only was she terrified of being caught but she was sick
at the thought of watching Heming, Fergus, Colin, or Peter being hurt in the
battle that she felt sure was looming over their heads.

Even
as she sent up a prayer for Hervey and his men to ride right past them, her cousin
entered the clearing where they all were and right behind him was a force of
nearly twenty men. Brona was astounded that her cousin had been riding around
in the dark, risking his men and especially his horse. Her men, Heming standing
slightly to the fore of them, looked a pitiful force to stand fast against the
men on the huge temperamental horses. Brona was very afraid that she was stuck
there in order to watch them all die. Even if she were inclined to disobey
Heming’s forceful order, she had a clear view of how many well-armed men Hervey
had and felt frozen to the ground in fear for Heming’s life.

“I
thought we would find ye creeping back to your nest,” snapped Hervey, glaring
down at Heming from atop his massive black warhorse.

“Weel,
arenae ye the clever one,” drawled Heming. “Now, if ye would be so kind as to
move aside, I believe I will be going home.”

Brona
wondered if she should have told Heming that all that taunting of Hervey
accomplished was death. Hervey became absolutely rabid if he felt he was being
ridiculed, especially if he felt the one ridiculing him was of less power and
wealth. Yet, it almost appeared as if Hervey was actually using some restraint,
although whatever that restraint was, it was proving too weak to remain unmoved
by Heming’s obvious utter contempt.

“I
wasnae done with ye, demon,” said Hervey. “I still need the answers to a few
questions. Seems my compatriot lost his prisoner as weel.”

Heming
breathed an inner sigh of relief but let no sign of that show itself in his
expression. “I should hie myself home then and prepare to fight for your life
as my kinsmen will soon be pounding at your gates and demanding ye pay for your
crimes against us.”

“Crimes
against ye? Ye are a crime against nature! Against God! Ye will return to Rosscurrach
with me now. Those traitors with ye will hang for betraying their laird and ye
will give me the knowledge I seek. Whether ye live for verra long depends upon
the value of what ye tell me.”

“And
after ye say all that do ye truly expect us to simply lay down our swords and
surrender?”

“Then
die here. I can always find me another MacNachton to tell me what I seek.”

Heming
braced for the attack, placing himself to the fore of the three men standing at
his side for he knew they were not hardened soldiers. He wanted Hervey and had
every intention of taking the man down even if it caused him his own death. As
he laid into Hervey’s men, trying to get to Hervey himself, Heming caught a
brief glimpse of Peter, Colin, and Fergus fighting and decided he had maligned
them. They were very fine and fierce soldiers and none of Hervey’s men would
find them easy to kill.

Brona
put her hand over her mouth as she watched Heming throw himself into battle. He
reached up to drag men out of their saddles and hurl them aside as if they were
feather pillows. One of her cousin’s hirelings went for Peter’s back and found
Heming at his, snapping his neck and tossing him aside. Heming moved with a
startling speed and was deadly with both his hands and his sword. And his
fangs, she thought as she watched him drag a man off of Fergus and sink his
very sharp teeth into the man’s throat. The terrified scream that came out of
the man gave her the chills.

One
thing Brona did see, despite the numbing shock that had overtaken her, was how
her men seemed unfrightened by the fury they fought side by side with. Even
when Heming used his fangs, they barely blinked an eye. It seemed that sometime
in the days of travel they had spent together, Fergus, Colin, and Peter had
fully accepted Heming. Brona was not sure why that should make her feel good
despite the carnage going on all around her.

Astonished
that the battle seemed to be going in Heming’s favor despite the odds against
him and her men, Brona wondered if she should just stay where she was. In the
heat of the battle there were many times when she could slip away unseen, but
Heming had told her to stay where she was unless she had no other choice. Just
as she was about to at least make a way out of the thicket clear and easy to
move through, she was grabbed by the back of her gown and roughly dragged out
of her hiding place. When she was free of the brambles, she looked to see who
was holding her. At the sight of Angus’s hard cold face, she screamed.

Heming
was beginning to weaken. Despite the toll he had taken amongst Hervey’s men, he
had suffered many a wound. The slow loss of blood from those wounds was
beginning to steal away his strength. Just as he grabbed the front of the jupon
of a man he was sure he had thrown away before, a scream pierced the air and he
froze. He knew that was an error, that he could easily get himself captured or
killed by reacting in such a way, but he could not move as the sound of Brona’s
fear rang through the wood. Hervey’s men did not see that they had a chance to
kill or capture him, however, for a harsh command sent them running for their
horses.

Backing
away from Hervey and his men and the chaos caused by their sudden retreat,
Heming looked for Brona. His heart nearly stopped when he saw her struggling in
the grip of Angus. She looked terrified and he could not blame her. The look
upon Angus’s face was not that of a man finding the woman he dearly wanted and
had feared was in danger. Angus looked like a man who wanted to make a woman
pay dearly for his humiliation.

Heming
took a step toward them as Angus threw her over his saddle and mounted up
behind her, but Heming suddenly found that he could barely walk. He staggered
and was grateful for Peter’s sudden aid. “Let her go!” he demanded, pleased
that no hint of his increasing weakness was revealed in his voice.

“Oh,
I dinnae think so, demon,” snapped Hervey. “I have plans for her.”

Angus
looked sharply at Hervey and frowned, but Heming did not have the time or the
strength to try to find out Hervey’s little secrets and try to use them to turn
Angus against his laird. “What plans? Ye have ignored her or beaten her since
ye sat your arse in the laird’s seat. Ye would have done something ere now if
ye had truly had an interest in her care.”

“My
interest now is that she will gain me a verra pretty purse. Some men are so
desperate for a young wife who may be strong enough to bear them a son, they
are more than willing to pay a hefty price.”

“So
ye would sell your own kinswoman, one of the few true kin ye have left?”

“In
a heartbeat if the price was right and this one is,” snapped Hervey. “Dinnae
think this ends here, demon. I cannae take the time or waste the men to get ye
now, but I will return ye to your cage verra soon.”