Highland Thirst (18 page)

Heming
took her hand in his and kissed her palm. He would have to tell her the truth
for many reasons. If his mother was right, the occasional drinking of his blood
would ensure that he did not have to stand over her grave when she died an old
woman and he was still young and vigorous. There should also be no secrets
between them.

“Ye
were dying, Brona,” he said quietly, needing her to understand that he would
never have done something she might well find distasteful unless the need was
dire. “Nothing we did could save ye and we tried everything. My mother finally
told me about something she has discovered in the old histories and journals of
our clan. Do ye recall how Hervey thought the secret to our strength and long
lives was in our blood?”

Brona
tensed. “Aye and he planned to drink yours to see if he was right.”

“Weel,
‘tis a surprise a mon like him could stumble upon a truth like that, but he was
right. I gave ye some of my blood, Brona. Mixed it with wine and poured it down
your throat.”

“When
was that?”

“Last
night. Ye have slept through most of the day.”

Brona
knew she should be disgusted, maybe even looking for something to thoroughly
rinse her mouth out with, but she only felt a passing twinge of unease. Then
again she had overcome her unease with the fact that Heming drank blood and did
so straight from the source. She took another peek at the faint mark that was
all that was left of what she suspected had been a mortal wound. Considering
some of the putrid potions healers mixed up, a little blood with her wine
seemed almost mild and it had obviously worked a miraculous cure.

Heming
frowned, trying to guess what she was feeling about what he had done. She just
looked a little puzzled and sometimes, when she glanced at her wound, a soft
look of amazement crossed her face. Heming began to feel that there might not
be any objection made about what he had done. That made him wonder if she would
also accept drinking from him. The mere thought of that made him hard as a rock
and he quickly pushed it from his mind.

“Hervey
is dead, isnae he?” Brona asked.

“Aye,
we think Angus killed him. Both men have already been buried. I didnae think ye
would care but I can show ye where Hervey is buried.”

“Aye,
ye can do that at some time. I feel nothing and that makes me a little sad for
he was a kinsmon and I have verra, verra few of those. Yet, I asked about his
death because he
had
guessed the secret of your blood and ‘tis a verra,
verra dangerous secret, isnae it.”

Pulling
her into his arms, he kissed her cheek and rested his cheek on her hair. “Aye,
verra dangerous. As my mother says, we wouldnae just have the hunters after us,
we would have the whole world. I dinnae think it would just be for the fact
that it can heal such dire wounds as yours. Nay, I think most would be after it
because it makes ye live longer.”

Brona
lifted her head off his shoulder and stared at him in shock. “It can?”

“Once
ye see my mother ye will ken the truth of that. I feel a fool for nay kenning
that she is over two score and ten years yet looks thirty. I simply didnae pay
any heed, thought naught unusual about it. My aunt is the same.”

She
suddenly hugged him very tightly. “None of ye would e’er be safe.”

Heming
idly combed his fingers through her long pale blond hair. “‘Tis a reason for us
to rejoice, though. It means that, if ye can stomach drinking a wee bit of my
blood on occasion, ye would live as long as I do.”

Brona
tensed but did not lift her face from where she had it pressed against his
broad smooth chest. “And why would ye wish to do that for me?” she asked
softly, hearing her heart beat in her head, it was pounding so hard and fast.

He
gently grasped her chin in his hand and turned her face up to his. “Because I
want to keep ye. I dinnae want to wake one more morning without ye at my side.”

“Are
ye asking me to be your wife?” she whispered.

“Aye,
I am. My wife, my mate, the mother of my children.”

“Why?”

A
large part of Brona just wanted to shout “aye” and do a little dance around the
room in unbridled joy. Another part of her, however, needed more, needed him to
love her. She inwardly grimaced as she admitted to herself that she would
accept just a few words about caring for her. Considering what Heming was, and
she was sure she did not know the whole of it yet, they would be facing some
large challenges in the future and Brona felt that his feelings needed to have
some depth to them if they were to survive them.

Heming
smiled and brushed his lips over hers. “Because ye are the other half of me.
Because ye are my love.” He frowned when the plump bottom lip he had been
licking began to wobble. “That isnae supposed to make ye cry.”

She
kissed him and then hugged him as tightly as she could. “Tears of joy. I love
ye, too, Heming. I think I have since the start. Think on it—I set free a mon
all called a demon, a mon who drank Peter’s blood. I e’en let ye drink my blood
and ye must ken how most, er, Outsiders feel about such a thing. Aye, I believe
I loved ye from the first moment I looked at ye. It just took a wee while for
it to settle into my heart and mind.”

Feeling
tears stinging his own eyes, Heming kissed her. He was just about to rid her of
the night shift that prevented him from feeling all her soft skin when he heard
someone clear her throat. Opening one eye, he saw his mother standing at the
side of the bed. Feeling a little too much like a chastised child, he realized
a blushing Brona and slid out of bed, heartily glad that he had kept his
clothes on when he had gotten into bed beside her. He hurriedly introduced
Brona to his mother, grinning slightly at the bemused look Brona wore as she
studied the young, pretty Efrica.

Heming
took Brona’s hand in his and smiled at his mother. “Ye shall be pleased to hear
that she has agreed to marry me.”

After
hugging Brona and kissing her cheek, Efrica looked at her son. “And I suspicion
ye want that marriage to be soon.”

“As
soon as possible.”

“Heming,
there is something ye need to ken,” Brona said. “I think that, if ye marry me,
ye may be able to be the laird of Rosscurrach. Angus felt that was how it would
be if Hervey was dead. ‘Tis one reason he killed my cousin.”

“Ah,
aye,” Heming said as he tugged one of the chairs closer to the bed, sat down,
and took Brona’s hand in his. “We heard that mentioned several times and, as ye
slept, my father went through the ledger room. He found what your father had
written, the instructions he had left about what was to be done about
Rosscurrach and its heirs. It does say that if Hervey dies then ye are the
heir, but only if ye marry, so that ye have a husband at your side.” He
grimaced. “From the moment I told Colin that I intended to marry ye, he has
treated me as the laird of Rosscurrach and I couldnae get him to stop.”

For
a moment, Brona felt a touch of fear. Angus had wanted to marry her because it
would have given him a chance to be the laird of Rosscurrach. Her fear that
Heming might be doing the same passed quickly, however. Heming was not like
that. She knew that for a fact deep inside her heart.

When
she glanced at Heming’s mother, the woman smiled in complete understanding and
then winked at her. Having such a young, beautiful mother by law would be
something she would have to get used to, Brona decided. Brona fixed her gaze on
the man who would soon become her husband, a thought that had her trembling
with pleasure on the inside.

“Then
we can rest assured that Colin is more than ready to accept ye as laird and he
isnae without some power amongst the men,” she said.

Heming
smiled and nodded. “I have seen that. He, Peter, and even Fergus and I have to
wonder if that was one of the reasons your cousin had set them in the dungeon.”

She
sighed and nodded. “I suspicion that was verra much why. Hervey didnae like
anyone to have any power except him.”

“Weel,
‘tis time for ye to have a bath,” Efrica said to Brona, “and we must make plans
for this wedding in, oh, three days?” She just smiled when Heming sighed. “Most
of the ones who came to fight are still here as they waited to see how ye
fared, Brona. They will remain for the wedding. Peter showed them where ye hid
our Heming and they have settled in down there verra nicely. There are a lot of
chambers and hollows down there.” She turned to her son. “Ye can go and help
your father sort through all those papers in the ledger room. Since ye are to
be the laird here, ‘tis important that ye ken all about Rosscurrach.”

“Brona
might wish me to wait as this is her home,” said Heming after giving Brona a
brief kiss and then standing up. “I may be laird in name, but ‘tis only because
of her.”

“Weel,
her
,” Brona said and smiled, “would be verra happy if ye searched
through all of that and just told me what ye found. And, Heming, be sure to
look for anything Hervey might have had concerning the hunters. He didnae come
up with the plan to capture ye all on his own and I doubt that mon Carbonnel
did either.”

“Jankyn
is already hard at work on that,” said Efrica. “We ken that these men are
becoming more and more organized and more and more of a threat. Go, now,
Heming. I suspicion Brona is eager to have a bath.”

Her
bath was prepared so quickly that Brona knew Efrica had arrived much earlier
because she had already done most of the preparations. Brona sighed with
pleasure as she stepped into the hot, softly scented water. When Efrica began
to wash her hair, Brona studied her wound again and lightly touched it.

“‘Tis
wondrous,” she murmured. “I am nay sure I will e’en have a scar. Did Heming
give me more than one drink?”

“Nay,
just one. But, ye may consider getting used to it. What has happened with ye,
the way ye healed, has told me that I am right. The magic is in the blood. And,
if ye have a wee drink once a week, ye will age as Heming will and nay be prey
to so many of the fevers and poxes that steal the life from so many Outsiders.”

Brona
nodded. “I think I can do that. The need to stay with Heming for as long as I
can will make it verra easy to do. And any children we may have as weel, I
suppose.”

“Aye.
For all I ken, it may take nay more than one drink to pass along the magic but
I havenae figured out a way to test that. Now, we must plan a bonnie gown for
ye to wear and a feast. Many of the MacNachtons dinnae eat food as we do but
they do like music and wine.”

“That
is something I am certain Rosscurrach can give them.”

“Ye
do love my son, dinnae ye, Brona Kerr?”

“Oh,
aye,” she answered softly. “Verra, verra much.”

“Then
all will be weel. Welcome to the family.”

Brona
laughed as Heming carried her into their bedchamber, running all the way. He
set her down on the bed and barred the door. She stopped laughing, however,
when he started to walk back to her, for the hunger in his eyes was enough to
set the bed linen on fire.

Her
husband, she thought, and sighed like some love-struck girl. She felt a bit
like one. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would be married to a
man like this, to a man she could love and who loved her back. For the first
time she felt part of a family again. The MacNachtons could be a little
strange, like Heming’s cousin Berawald, but they had all welcomed her into the
clan. From what she could tell by the way everyone acted at the wedding feast,
the Kerrs were accepting the MacNachtons far more easily than she had
anticipated.

“I
think it may be wise if ye remove that bonnie gown yourself, Brona love,” said
Heming.

Standing
up, she began to unlace the soft blue gown she wore. Before she had gone down to
the great hall to be joined in marriage with Heming by the same cowardly priest
who had married her to Angus, Brona had had a good long look at herself and
been astonished. With ribbons in her hair and the pretty gown, she had felt
beautiful. Heming’s look when she had entered the great hall had made her feel
even more so. She did not want the gown ruined for she knew she would remember
her wedding day every time she looked at it.

Keeping
a close eye on Heming, she slowly undressed. With each item of clothing she
removed he looked even hungrier and she felt compelled to do more, to try to
drive him mad with desire. Placing one foot upon a stool, she lifted her shift
up over her knee and untied the garter holding up her stocking. Brona then very
carefully rolled it down her leg and set it aside. She was almost through doing
the same to the other leg when a very naked Heming grabbed her in his arms and
took her to their bed. She was not sure how he did it, but even as he settled
her on top of the bedcovers he removed her shift and tossed it aside. When he
sprawled in her arms, the feel of his flesh touching hers was enough to set her
blood on fire.

“Brona
love, ye shouldnae tease a mon so,” he growled as he spread soft, warm kisses
over her face. “I have been aching for another taste of ye since the day at the
inn.”