It Happened One Bite (21 page)

James woke just as the sun broke the horizon. He groaned loudly and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, grinding them fiercely. Something tickled his chin. James raised his head to look around, but the movement just made the room spin a bit. Sitting on his chest and staring back at him as though he was mad was Brannock Lindsay’s feral cat. “Well, good morning.” He scratched the beast between its ears. “Hiding from young Master Brannock again, are you?”

He looked slowly around the room, but Blaire was nowhere in sight.

The cat meowed.

“He can be a bit overzealous,” James agreed, “but he’s taken a liking to you. And you
are
all skin and bones. I’d wager if you stayed close to the lad, he’d fatten you up in no time.”

James nudged the cat from his chest, and then he struggled to sit up. The counterpane fell to reveal his naked chest. What the devil had happened to him? Then the events of the night before flooded back in his memory, hitting him like a storm-carried wave.

Blaire had accepted his proposal and allowed him to make love to her. To mark her as his own. To bite her flesh and leave his mark for the
world
to see. So then where was she?

A crinkling sound caught his attention, and he looked over at Bruce the cat to find the feline gnawing on a piece of foolscap.
A note?
He snatched it from the bed, and his eyes flew over the words.

My dearest James,

As I write this, I am certain you will be furious with me when you wake, and for that I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me and try to understand. I had never planned to marry. I had never dreamed I would find a man I could love, a man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Please know that your proposal meant more to me than you can ever imagine. It tempted me like nothing else ever has. I wish with all my heart that I could have accepted it, but we were not to be.

I told you I was too practical to believe in love. I lied to you. I know love exists because I have seen it with my very eyes. I just never thought it would find me. It is silly I suppose, if you consider my circumstances, to refuse your offer, but I really do not have a choice. I made a promise to myself, you see, a very long time ago. My father never loved my mother, and I swore as a small lass that I would never live her life. It was too painful to watch. I cannot imagine living it. As much as I love you, I will not condemn myself to a loveless marriage. I have seen that play out, and I have no desire to see it again.

The more pressing matter is Mr. Trevelyan. I do not blame you for whatever mishap found my dear friend, Mr. MacQuarrie. I truly believe that whatever transpired was out of your control and that you feel terribly. However, I cannot risk the chance of a similar mishap befalling one of my brothers. I feel I can better protect my family within the circle of my coven. By the time you read this, I should already be on my way home. I am not certain of the nature of the feud between you and Mr. Trevelyan, but I ask you not to bring it to my doorstep. If you truly care about me, as you have professed, then you will keep this battle far from me and my family.

I know that I will never forget you. The time we spent together was the most amazing of my life, and I would not trade it for anything in the world. I have placed a protection spell on Briarcraig to ensure that Trevelyan cannot enter the castle. You are free to come and go as you please. Briarcraig can be your refuge from that terrible creature, if you so desire.

I hope you have many wonderful years before you and that you will remember me fondly.

Yours Always,

Blaire

Pain flared within James’ chest, pain so harsh it made him double over.

She’d left him.

The pain was unlike anything James had ever felt. He’d been injured more times than he could count. In fact, he’d been shot when he died the first time. And that hadn’t compared to this blinding, searing pain.

He clutched at the counterpane to steady himself. Then he had the sudden urge to take in a breath of air. He inhaled, and air filled his once-dormant lungs as a beat started within his chest. The rhythm of his own pulse reached his ears.

“What the devil?” he muttered. How was that possible?

Bruce the cat meowed beside him.

James was worried enough for both of them. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and came to his feet. Blood pumped into his limbs, tingling like mad, moved by his beating heart. He crossed to the mirror and blew a breath across it. It fogged. “Do you see that?” he asked the cat.

Bruce rubbed his head against James’ ankle, purring loudly.

James stared at his reflection. This didn’t make any sense. He clearly remembered the night he had
died
along the road to London. Stopped by highwaymen, he’d been shot, fell to the ground, and watched his life’s blood seep into the earth. Then Matthew had appeared out of the mist, finished off his attackers, and offered James salvation. He would never forget the moment his heart had
stopped
beating. The feeling was like nothing he’d ever felt before or since. He’d lived two hundred and twenty-five years without feeling blood coursing through his veins, his heart beating strongly in his chest.

In all his years with Matthew, James had never once heard of such a thing. Not a rumor. Not a legend. Nothing. It didn’t seem fathomable. But he had no doubt that his heart was now beating just as strongly as it had when he was a living, breathing man more than two centuries earlier.

Only one thing made any sense, if any sense was to be had. He’d always been in possession of his heart. It had just lain dormant for two hundred and twenty-five years until Blaire Lindsay entered his life. He’d thought he had no heart to offer her, no love to go along with it; but apparently he was wildly mistaken. He had a heart after all, and though she might be in Edinburgh, it pounded in his chest, calling out for Blaire Lindsay.

James snatched her letter from the bed and reread it. Foolish girl. How could she take off like that? How could she put herself in danger? Hadn’t he told her that Padrig Trevelyan would come after her, if for no other reason than to torture James by doing so?

Panic gripped him. Now that his heart was beating, had he lost all chance to save her? Had his powers vanished with the re-emergence of his heart? One way to find out. He dashed from one end of the room to the other. His dash was more of a sprint. He’d lost his speed. Bloody hell, how could he instantly reach Blaire without his ability to move quickly? And strength. Was he still strong? James glanced around the room. What could he test himself with?

His eyes landed on the four-poster bed, and he dashed to the foot of it. He bent at the waist and tried to lift the edge with his little finger. All he got in return was an aching digit. He picked it up with his hand. Thank God. He doubted he could move boulders anymore. But he was still a strong man. Was he a
man
? Truly? He dropped the bed back to the ground and ignored the cat’s growl at the unexpected clatter. Strength and speed. He’d lost them both, or most of them at least. But he could do this. He could get to her, although by normal means and not through vampyre trickery, and pray the entire journey that Trevelyan hadn’t gotten to her first.

He looked back at the cat, which had plopped down beside the wardrobe and meowed. If
that
scrawny creature was still living, he couldn’t have been out too terribly long. Still, it could have been long enough for Trevelyan to have found Blaire. “Well,” he said to the cat, “no time to waste, is there?” After all, a pretty witch who loved him was somewhere on the road to Edinburgh.

The cat yawned.

James couldn’t help but laugh. “You can rest on the way. I have a feeling a lad in Edinburgh is missing you dreadfully.” He scooped the cat up in his arms and headed for Matthew’s abandoned chambers. There must be a valise or something in which he could keep the little creature until they reached their destination. Besides, the poor thing would be terrified unless he couldn’t see where they were going. And James had no desire to show up on Blaire’s doorstep covered in claw marks from head to toe. He may bleed, after all, now that he had a life source of his own moving through his veins.

James tugged the bellpull in the corner of the room. After the previous evening’s events, bathing and starting the day refreshed would be nice, but there wasn’t time. Not if he meant to catch up to his witch.

A scratch came at his door. James glanced toward the sound. “Come.”

A nervous Highland maid pushed the door open wide. “Ye rang, sir?”

James nodded. “Lord Blodswell’s coach is in the stables, is it not?”

“Aye, my lord.”

Perfect. Matthew should already be in London; hopefully MacQuarrie had made the journey without expiring. “See that it’s readied, lass. I have need of it.”

“Of course, my lord.”

***

The two day journey to Edinburgh had been a nightmare, to say the least. Blaire’s sleep had been laden with nightmares, the kind that would typically make someone bound from their bed and jump into wakefulness. Yet she couldn’t escape the depression-filled haze that brought her lower than she’d ever been. When she was awake, her nerves were so on edge that Blaire nearly jumped out of her skin at each bump in the road, certain James had awoken despite the dampening spell and was dead set on revenge for her trickery.

As night fell, her nerves only rattled more. Was Trevelyan chasing them? Had he finally caught up to them? And if so, would she have the power to hold him off without her coven sisters surrounding her? It was all foolishness, she well knew. Trevelyan’s feud was with James, not her. Trevelyan had no reason to follow her to Edinburgh.

The carriage driver they’d borrowed from the Fergusons had been none too happy when Aiden had roused him from the warm bed of a village widow in the dead of night. The man’s outlook hadn’t changed during the entire drive. Adding to their misery, Brannock had sulked ever since they left Briarcraig. Not because he would miss the dreary place, but because he’d been unable to locate Bruce the cat before their departure.

Fortunately, Aiden had taken pity on her. He’d only lamented the loss of Heather Fyfe half a dozen times on the journey, but he had draped his arm around her shoulders, squeezed her hands when she fidgeted, and promised her everything would turn out all right. She so wished her brother had Cait’s power of clairvoyance, that he could say such things with absolute certainty. But she wouldn’t truly feel at peace until she was reunited with Caitrin, Elspeth, Rhiannon, and Sorcha, until she could feel the power of them surge together and protect those they loved.

As daylight faded, Blaire could finally make out Edinburgh in the distance. She released a sigh of relief. Just a little while longer, and they could return to their own lives. Her heart contracted at the thought. Aiden and Brannock would be safe, but she would never stop missing James and wishing for a life that couldn’t be hers. Was
this
what Fiona had seen all those years ago? That James would break her heart and leave her only a shell of the witch she’d once been? Is
that
why the coven tried to protect her from him?

“Almost there,” Aiden said quietly beside her.

Blaire nodded. “As soon as we get things settled, I need ta see the others.”

Her older brother nodded. “Aye, I figured as much. Give Caitrin my felicitations.”

“Alec.” The name rushed from Blaire. What would she tell Cait about Alec?

Aiden squeezed her arm. “One thing at a time, lass. And with any luck, MacQuarrie will be whole and hale before ye have ta tell her anythin’.”

But that wasn’t true. She’d have to tell Cait the truth. She’d have to tell all of them the truth. She could never keep something of this magnitude from her coven. There was no sense going into that with Aiden, however, so she nodded her head.

“What about Alec? I-I mean Mr. MacQuarrie? Did somethin’ happen ta him?” Brannock piped up after having said very little for the longest while.

With Brannock, however, Blaire wasn’t ready to divulge the truth. In fact, she might never be ready. The poor lad was still having nightmares about Sarah Reese’s pointy teeth. The last thing Blaire would do was add to his fears. “Nothin’. He just dinna want ta come back with us, is all.”

“No’ with Miss Macleod’s marriage,” Aiden supplied helpfully. “I suppose I should say Lady Brimsworth, though.”

The fabrication seemed to placate Brannock, who turned his attention back outside as Edinburgh grew larger in the window. Blaire and Aiden exchanged a look, quietly agreeing to keep all talk of vampyres and other terrible creatures away from Brannock as long as possible.

“Doona wait for us ta get settled, Blaire. I’ll have the driver take ye ta the Fergusons’ first. No need ta unload and unpack. We strong Lindsay men can handle that.”

Blaire leaned forward and kissed Aiden’s cheek. He really was a very dear brother.

***

Blaire bounded up the steps of Sorcha Ferguson’s stately Georgian home and rapped loudly on the door. A moment later, the elderly butler with wild grey hair stood before her. “Miss Lindsay,” he greeted her, “I dinna realize ye were home.”

Home. In the strangest sense, it felt like home was Briarcraig Castle, beside James Maitland. She shook the melancholy thought from her mind and forced a smile to her face as she stepped over the threshold. “I’ve actually just returned. Please tell me Miss Ferguson is home,”

The words were barely out of her mouth, and the door closed behind her, before a high-pitched squeal assaulted her ears. Then Sorcha, with all her natural grace, appeared from nowhere and launched herself into Blaire’s arms.

“Oh, we’ve missed ye so much. I canna wait ta hear about Aiden’s castle. Is it as horrid as ye feared? Oh, and ye willna believe what’s happened ta Cait.” Sorcha slid her fingers against her thumb slowly and smiled as a rosebud opened within her palm.

Blaire shook her head and took it from the younger witch. “Married some English lord, I hear.”

Sorcha’s smile vanished. “Augh! I hoped I’d get ta tell ye,” she complained. “I wished ye could’ve been here, Blaire. Lord Brimsworth is just as dashin’ as Benjamin Westfield.”