HIGHLAND                                                                                                        BACK VAMPIRE                                                                                                              

KISS OF THE VAMPIRE

SCOTLAND - SPRING 1478

  The sun would set in a few hours, Jankyn thought as he crouched inside the narrow, deeply set stone arrow slot.  When the sun was at this particular spot in the sky, he could safely view the gardens below.  He grimaced as he thought of the teasing he would have to endure if it was discovered that he had a liking for flowers.  A MacNachton liking flowers?  Jankyn could almost see his kinsmen rolling on the floor, weak from hilarity.

  It was rather pathetic, he mused, even as he took a deep breath, savoring the scent of primroses, bluebells, and musk roses.  A garden flourished in the sun.  He lived in the shadows.  Perhaps it was more envy  than appreciation.  There was a part of him that hungered for a chance to turn his face toward the sun, to revel in its warmth upon his skin.  It would be the last pleasure he enjoyed if he was mad enough to try it, but there were times when he was sorely tempted.

  There was a soft rap upon his door and a woman called his name, but he ignored her.  Something else that would both surprise and amuse his kinsmen.  When he had first arrived at the king's court, he had freely indulged his lusts with the women gathered here, but that game no longer interested him.  They no longer interested him.  He was weary of being the dark mysterious lover the women could brag about to their friends. There was a danger lurking in such excess for it not only stirred curiosity, but jealousy.  He was also simply tired of fleeting, empty passion, of bedding down with women who did not really care to know him well, or would run screaming from his embrace if they did.

  "Are ye sure she will come here?"

  Jankyn frowned down at the young man who had spoken, interrupting his peace and his thoughts.  He recognized the elegantly dressed man as Sir Lachlan Armstrong, an impoverished young man with a small, poor holding.  His companion was Thomas Oliphant, the youngest son of a laird with a lot of sons and little money.  It was widely known that they would make any woman a poor husband.  Jankyn tensed for there was something about them that made him think they were on the hunt and he wondered which poor lass was their prey.

  "Ay, Tom, we will," replied Lachlan.  "I had Eleanor tell her the roses were in bloom.  The lass loves flowers."

  "Och, aye, she does that, but it doesnae mean we will come to have a peek at them now.  Could be she willnae come until the morrow."

  "Nay, 'twill be soon.  Ere the sun sets.  Eleanor told her that Old Rob, a mon weel kenned for his skill at foretelling the weather, had talked of a fierce storm coming, one that would be sure to damage the flowers.  The lass willnae want to risk missing a chance to see them in full bloom."

  "Clever."

  It was and Jankyn had to wonder why Eleanor would help these fools.  Since the two men could give her little save a rutting, he had to think Eleanor did not like the lass she was sending into this trap.  There could be many reasons for that, but, knowing Eleanor as he unfortunately did, Jankyn suspected the chosen victim was young and beautiful.  Eleanor did not like it when some other woman drew men's interest away from her.  The intended prey must have arrived recently, during the last two weeks in which Jankyn had cut himself off from the intrigues of the court, both political and sexual.  And dear Eleanor was one of the reasons for that self-imposed exile.

    "O'er by that rowan tree would be a good place to await her," said Lachlan even as he strode toward it.

    "There is one wee problem with this plan," said Thomas as he joined his friend.  "Which one of us gets to have her?"

    "We will both have her, but the first to draw blood will be the one to wed her."

    "Which will still leave one of us with an empty purse, little or no land, and the need of a weel-dowered wife."

  "Nay, nay.  This lass has enough for us to share a wee bit, just enough to make it easier to get that rich bride.  Agreed?"

  Swine, Jankyn thought.  The rumors which said these two hid a callous brutality beneath their fine clothes and bonnie faces were obviously true.  Glancing toward the sun, Jankyn knew he would not be able to perform any daring rescue.  The best he could do was call out a warning, letting the rogues know that their perfidy was not unwitnessed.  There would be little glory in it, but the ones in the garden would see nothing wrong for none of them would expect a man to leap from where he now perched and live.

  It was not long before both men tensed and shifted deeper into the shadow of the tree.  Jankyn knew their prey had entered the garden and he waited with them.  When the woman entered his line of sight, Jankyn nearly fell from his perch.  He easily recognized that lithe shape and the sensuous way the young woman moved.  Her long, thick, honey gold hair swayed with each step she took, adding to her allure.  Although he had seen little of her in nearly three years, he had obviously recalled Efrica Callan very well indeed.  The two men lurking by the rowan tree intended to attack his laird's sister by marriage.   His shock had also stolen away the chance to warn her, and he cursed softly.

  His first inclination was to roar out his fury and attack, but he forced his rage back.  Efrica was no fool, nor was she helpless.  There was also the sun to consider.  Fists clenched, he waited.

  "Weel met, m'lady," said Lachlan as he moved to stand in front of Efrica, Thomas slipping around behind her.

  "Mayhap I misjudge ye, but I dinnae think ye are here to join men in admiring the flowers," Efrica said.

  Jankyn saw her sleek body subtly move as she prepared herself for an attack.

  "We would rather show ye our admiration."

  "Another time, if ye please."

  Efrica felt fear chill her blood, but forced herself to ignore it.  Fear stole one's wits and she would have need of hers now.  Somehow she was going to have to slip free of this trap yet not to do something that might raise too many questions.  She could smell the lust in the men.  It sickened and terrified her.  Their plot was easy to discern.  Rape, then a forced marriage.  It was a ploy she should have considered when she had seen their anger over her rebuffs of their attentions, polite through those had been. 

  Just as she moved to leave the garden, Lachlan grabbed her by the arm.  "Release me," she hissed, and saw both men look at her curiously.  "Now"

  "So fierce," drawled Lachlan.  "Do ye bring that fire to all ye do?"

  "And do ye always bring another fool with ye to subdue a lass so much smaller than ye are?"

  Insulting the man had not been wise, Efrica decided as she watched his face redden with fury.  She had sensed the brute hidden beneath the courtier's finery shortly after meeting both men.  Although it was pleasing to have her judgment proven correct, she would have preferred to savor the small pleasure within the safe confines of her chambers or safely hidden  within a crowd.

  The only way to adequately protect herself now would be to toss aside the mask she wore at court.  The genteel, polite lady she portrayed before others would gain her nothing now.  Unfortunately, revealing too much of her true nature could rouse a curiosity that held its own dangers.

 . . . . . . . . .

BACK