MacNachton Vampires: Born To Bite Part 1

BORN TO BITE.

HANNAH HOWELL.

DIANA COSBY.

ERICA RIDLEY.

DARK SECRET.

Hannah Howell.

Prologue.

Spring 1514.

Scotland.

The two crosses were simple, the letters carved into the wood neat but obviously done by an untrained hand. It would not be long before the words were stolen away by the wind and rain. A s.h.i.+ver went through Murdina Dunbar, and she knew it had nothing to do with the bite of chill in the wind. Her aunt and uncle had been buried in unconsecrated ground.

Murdina sighed and fought the urge to weep. It was not so much grief that caused the sting of tears in her eyes as it was a crus.h.i.+ng disappointment. She had traveled so far to find her aunt and uncle, hoped for a cousin or two as well. Every step of the way she had prayed that she would soon be part of a family again. Instead, she found herself still alone. Utterly alone.

"If ye be looking for their demon sp.a.w.n, ye are too late. She and that bairn she hid are gone."

Demon sp.a.w.n? Murdina turned to look at the man who had spoken to her, annoyed with herself for being so lost in self-pity she had not heard his approach. He was short, filthy, and had a belly that revealed he ate too well far too often. The intuition that had cursed her for her whole life immediately marked him as ignorant and brutal.

"What do ye mean by demon sp.a.w.n, sir?" she asked, and knew her anger over his words had seeped into her tone, for his muddy brown eyes narrowed with wary malice.

"The mother was a witch, aye? What else could she have been with all her potions and love of the night, eh?" He scratched his belly. "We took care of the la.s.sie's witch of a mother, but no one wanted to hurt the la.s.s, too. She was a healer like her mother, and we didnae want to be left with no healer at all, did we? Then wee Adeline, their demon sp.a.w.n, took in that cursed bairn. Wheesht, there was nay denying that the bairn was Satan's own. Anne herself said so when she tried to be rid of the bairn that demon had begotten on her, but the la.s.s saved it. We tried to get rid of the lad ourselves after that, but she ran off with him. Young Adeline guarded that lad as if he were her own."

Good for her, Murdina thought, proud of her cousin. "Where did she run to?"

"Why do ye care? Ye are weel shed of the likes of her." He looked her over. "Though, now that I get a good look at you, I see ye have the look of her and her fool da. All that cursed red hair, too. Blood will tell, aye?"

"Will it? Then ye will be verra pleased to learn that I dinnae intend to linger here. As soon as ye tell me where Adeline went, I will leave."

"Dinnae ken where she went, do I? Some of our men chased her, but they didnae return. Another lot of fools went out ahunting for her, and they did stop here for a wee while. One of their men was hurt. They said the la.s.s had taken up with one of those demons one hears tales of. MacNachtons the mon called them. One of them demons was helping the la.s.s protect the bairn, and they were all headed toward the far hills," he said and nodded, pointing toward the north.

Murdina sighed, picked up the reins of her st.u.r.dy pony, and started to walk in the direction he had waved his short, dirty finger in.

" 'Tis said no one returns from those hills," he called after her.

"I certainly willnae be returning, whether I go to those hills or nay."

Her heart was choked with grief and sympathy for her cousin. Poor Adeline, Murdina thought, although she was pleased to discover she had a cousin and the cousin's name. Adeline was as alone as she was, however. All her cousin had was a bairn that fools like that filthy man behind her wanted to kill. Her cousin would need help to protect the child, she decided. The man marked as a demon by superst.i.tious fools might not have stayed with Adeline. All Murdina had to do now was find her cousin.

As she looked toward the distant hills, she hesitated and s.h.i.+vered, but quickly stiffened her spine. The hills were shrouded in a heavy mist despite the fact that it was a bright, sunny day. It made her uneasy, but she shook off the tickle of fear that tried to take root in her heart. If she had to track her cousin into those ominous mists, she would do so. Now that she knew she had family left, she would allow nothing to stop her from finding Adeline. Not even wild, frightening talk of demons.

Chapter One.

"We have an important guest, and ye have been chosen to be his maid."

Murdina glanced up from the linen she had been scrubbing clean to the plump Mistress McKee and then back down at her work. "Ye told me I was to be the laundry maid only this morn."

"Weel, Jeanne will be the laundry maid now. She isnae the sort of la.s.s we want to be maid to such a fine gentlemon. Too dirty, too rough, ye ken."

And too quick to lift her skirts, thought Murdina as she dried her hands, stepping away from the laundry tub so that a flushed, scowling Jeanne could take her place. "Ye say he is an important mon?"

"Aye." Mistress McKee grabbed Murdina by the arm and pulled her out of the laundry room that also served as the bathing room for men of lesser rank. "Ye also speak far finer than our Jeanne does."

It was strange to be chosen for something that would only rouse spite or suspicion amongst the other servants of Dunnantinny. Murdina made no complaint, however. Acting the maid for some fine gentleman guest had to be easier than scrubbing pots or was.h.i.+ng linen. Unless, she mused, he was the sort of man to think all maids working in a keep were his for the taking. Since she would never tolerate being treated that way, there was a chance that this new position within the keep could land her in enough trouble to be thrown out. The laird would not take it kindly if she insulted or injured his guest. Being tossed out would actually be the most merciful of the punishments she could face for such actions, and the laird of Dunnantinny was not known for his merciful nature.

Accepting the heavy bucket of heated water Mistress McKee thrust at her, Murdina wished she had traveled a little farther before stopping. The bucket was heavy enough that the rope handle cut into her palm, but it was better than having Mistress McKee still touching her. The cold rigidity of the woman had begun to seep into Murdina. Unfortunately, she could not tell the woman not to touch her, so she simply braced for that chill every time it happened.

Being close to so many people all the time was a strain as her curse often made her all too aware of the feelings of those around her, especially when they touched her. She had learned almost nothing about her cousin Adeline, either, despite how close the keep was to the village where Adeline had been the healer. Nor had she collected much coin with which to continue her journey. In truth, all she had collected were bruises, blisters, and backaches as well as far too much knowledge of the venality of some of the keep's residents. She was no stranger to hard work, but being a maid in a crowded keep was a lot different than being a blacksmith's daughter. If she had learned more than just evil gossip about her cousin, she might have considered it all worthwhile, but she still had little more than what that filthy man had said as she had stood over the graves of her aunt and uncle. Only a need for coin kept her at Dunnantinny now.

"Greetings, Sir Baldwin," said Mistress McKee, pulling Murdina free of her dark thoughts and aching disappointment. "I had the maid bring ye up some hot water. I suspicion ye would like a wash after your long journey." She pulled Murdina into the room. "Fill up the ewer and bowl, la.s.s."

Smothering the urge to push back, Murdina went to do as she had been told. She only half-listened to Mistress McKee and Sir Baldwin talk. The man had a very attractive deep voice, she thought as she checked the drying cloth near the was.h.i.+ng bowl to be sure it was clean and dry. Listening to him speak made her belly tense in the oddest way. There was a soothing calm about him that eased the chill Mistress McKee had infected her with, but beneath that calm was a shadow, and she suspected he had a few secrets.

"Murdina will be your maid during your stay here," Mistress McKee said. "La.s.s, make your curtsey to the mon."

Murdina turned and curtsied, careful to keep her gaze respectfully lowered. It was as she began to rise up out of her curtsey that she chanced a look at Sir Baldwin and nearly stumbled. It took all of her willpower to keep her expression one of calm and respect and not rudely gape at the man.

Men were not supposed to be beautiful, she told herself. Yet, beautiful was the first word that came to mind. No wonder Mistress McKee had sounded close to cooing sweetly when she talked to the man, a touch of warmth actually invading that rigid chill the woman carried. He was more than handsome. He had to be at least two hands taller than her. His body had the long, powerful lines of the finest of stallions that had pa.s.sed through her father's shop. Thick, gleaming black hair hung to the middle of his broad back, two warrior braids framing his face.

And such a face, Murdina mused, unable to look away. A strong jaw, well-defined cheekbones, and a sharp blade of a nose with no hint of the b.u.mp so many men had, the remnant of a nose too often broken. He was smiling at her, his slightly full lips parted just enough to reveal a glimpse of strong, healthy teeth. Yet, she knew deep in her heart that his heartbreakingly beautiful face could harden into a look any predator would be proud of. A look that even that enticing mouth would not soften.

His eyes, however, were what firmly caught her attention. The color of pure amber, they were nicely s.p.a.ced, neither too large nor too small, set beneath tidy, arched brows, and encircled with lashes so thick and long they would cause every woman who saw them to suffer sharp spasms of envy. Those eyes beckoned, tempted, enthralled. Murdina knew that one heated look from them would be enough to seduce even the most pious of women.

When his smile widened a little, Murdina knew he had detected her fascination. She fought against blus.h.i.+ng like some tiresome girl and looked to Mistress McKee as if awaiting the woman's next command. It would be one she would obey immediately, especially if it got her out of Sir Baldwin's bedchamber. The way the man made her feel, an odd mixture of nervous and excited, made her anxious to get far away from him. She considered asking to be relieved of her duties as his maid, but only briefly. Not only did she not wish to try and explain why she asked for such a thing, she refused to allow one too handsome man to make her a coward.

"The evening meal willnae be set out for a few hours yet, sir," said Mistress McKee. "Would ye like a wee bite of something to take the edge off your hunger until then?"

Murdina wondered why that perfectly reasonable question should make the man look so amused.

"That would be most kind of ye, Mistress McKee," he replied.

"Go, la.s.s, and fetch the mon a tray of food and drink."

It took more effort than Murdina liked to simply walk away. She wanted to run. There was something in the way the man looked at her, the way that look made her feel, that urged her to run. Run like a deer scenting a pack of wolves, she thought as she made her way down to the kitchens.

Foolishness, she scolded herself. The man offered her no threat. She would have sensed it if he had, one of the few good things that came of the gift she had been cursed with. It was not his fault her heart pounded when she looked at him. He had done nothing, said nothing, to entice her. The proof of that was in the calm respect Mistress McKee treated him with, that faint wisp of warmth she revealed. If the man had tried to immediately seduce the maid Mistress McKee had chosen for him, the woman's mood would definitely have soured. Mistress McKee had a very rigid set of morals that often amazed Murdina, considering the somewhat widespread lack of morals within the keep.

What astonished Murdina even more was how one look at Sir Baldwin had slashed at the foundations of her own morals. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she had wanted to touch, to taste, that far too tempting mouth of his. She had wanted to rouse the heat of pa.s.sion in those mysterious eyes. That was so unlike her, so against her vow to touch people as little as possible, for she truly did not want to know what they felt, that she decided it was why she had become so anxious to get away from him. With that admission, however, she grew calm. Now that she knew what her weakness was, had recognized it as no more than a woman's response to a far too attractive man, she could control it. As she collected the food to bring to him, she strengthened her resolve and reminded herself that she was not at the keep to find herself a man but to learn what she could about the MacNachtons and then find her cousin.

Gillanders smiled as he stripped to his braes and began to wash the dust of travel from his body. Mistress McKee was a rigid woman, proud of her high place in the keep and undoubtedly fighting a losing battle with her attempts to keep the maids under her rule as pious as she so obviously was. Most maids in a keep like this were eager to earn an extra coin or two now and then by warming a man's bed, especially if that man was young, hale, and reasonably handsome. Of course, if dear Mistress McKee found out he was no Baldwin but one of the much whispered about MacNachtons, she would be worried about far more than the fact that her maids had few morals when it came to bedding a man who looked as if he had that coin or two to spare for them.

The thought that the young maid Murdina was of that ilk made him frown. He was not sure why it troubled him to think she was one to give her favors to any man who tempted her with a coin or a smile. That made no sense at all, for he was hungry for a woman. It had been far too long since he had lost himself in the soft heat of a woman. All that should concern him was how much she might think she was worth.

He could already feel the silk of that thick, blood red hair against his skin. He ached to see those beautiful eyes, a strange blend of blue and green, turn hot and liquid with pa.s.sion. Small, long-fingered hands were undoubtedly calloused and a little rough from work, but he was certain that her fair skin would be soft elsewhere and as sweet as the cream it resembled.

His body grew hot and hard as images of Murdina beneath him, naked and flushed with desire, filled his head. Gillanders tried to shake the images from his mind but was not surprised when he failed. Even in her ill-fitted gown he could see that she was all he desired. The faded wool could not hide the fullness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s or the sweet, womanly curve of her hips. She also had height enough to offer him the delight of long legs, limbs perfect for wrapping around him as they sought their pleasure in each other.

She was trouble, Gillanders decided. The need she roused was too strong, clutched at him too swiftly, and was difficult to shake free of. It would be wise to stay away from her, but he knew he would not do so. Since the first time he had rolled about in the heather with the butcher's daughter, a greedy, buxom wench who had gleefully rid him of his virginity, he had not known such a hunger for a woman. There had been a spark of interest in Murdina's lovely eyes, and he knew he would not be able to resist the temptation to use it to draw her into his bed.

There was a soft rap at the door, and he heard her husky voice announcing that she had brought him his food. Gillanders glanced down at his near naked body and grinned. His desire was no longer blatantly visible through his braes, so he bid her to enter and waited.

Murdina entered the bedchamber and nearly dropped the tray she held. The man was as good as naked. It took all of her willpower not to slam the tray down on the table near the fireplace and bolt from the room. With what she prayed looked like calm disinterest, she walked to the table and set the tray down on it. It was not easy, for she could feel both his amus.e.m.e.nt and his interest in her as a woman.

It was an effort to keep her gaze firmly on the food she set out. She did not understand why she so badly wished to look at him. Despite being the only child of a very protective father, she was not a complete stranger to the sight of a man's body, yet none had held more than a pa.s.sing interest for her.

Then again, she mused ruefully, none of those men had been quite so fine to look at. She had been right about the long, lean, powerful lines of his body. There was no softness to the man, his strength clear to see beneath the taut skin, skin that held the light, golden tone much like one can get from the sun. That smooth, unmarred flesh made her palms actually itch with the need to touch him.

"Ah, just what I needed."

That deep voice sounded right in her ear, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin there. Murdina bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from squeaking in alarm. Her eyes widened as he reached around her, his strong, elegant hand picking up a thick chunk of cheese. She could feel the heat of his body all along her back. When the urge to lean back a little, to brush against his tall body struck her, Murdina grabbed the now empty tray and quickly sidestepped away from him. She fought against blus.h.i.+ng when he looked at the tray she held up before her like a s.h.i.+eld and quirked one dark brow at her. The amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes made her want to hit him with the heavy wooden tray. They had not actually touched, but she had been close enough to catch the want that afflicted him, a desire for her that she found all too tempting.

"If that will be all, sir?" she asked, pleased with how calm and serious she sounded.

"I suppose it must be. For now."

"Then I will leave ye to dine. Please send for me if ye need anything else."

"Oh, I most certainly will. And my name is Gillanders."

I did not run, Murdina told herself as she shut the door behind her and hurried back to the kitchen. I but left the room with swift efficiency. She was not surprised when a small part of her heartily scoffed, but she ignored the tiny mocking voice in her head.

The man affected her like the most potent of wines. She had heard such subtle flirtatious remarks before, as well as many that were not so subtle. Not one had made her insides clench with the temptation to reply in kind. His amus.e.m.e.nt tickled her anger to life, but everything else about him left her as breathless as some cow-eyed maiden with little sense of the danger she was in, a maid too foolish to see beyond a handsome face, playful words, and a fine, strong form. When he drew close his desire had warmed her, and she knew it would be a mistake to touch him, to open herself up to the full strength of such a feeling.

His name was Gillanders. It should be Dangerous. He should wear some marking to tell women to beware, she thought crossly. It would be best if she found as many ways as possible to avoid the man.

Murdina was so lost in her thoughts she almost walked into the laird. She stumbled to a halt and looked up at the tall Sir Ra.n.a.ld Dumfries. He was so thin she often wondered if the man was ill. What she was certain of, however, was that he was a man it would be wise to avoid. He made her skin crawl with the way his too pale eyes fixed on her. She did all she could not to even brush against the man.

"How is our guest?" he asked.

"Weel, m'laird. He has been given the water to wash away the dust of travel, and I have just taken him some food to tide him o'er until the evening meal is served."

"Good. Keep a close eye on the mon."

"M'laird?" She could not hide her uncertainty, wondering exactly what the man meant. There was a lot of lewd and violent behavior at Dunnantinny, but she had not seen that any of the maids were actually ordered to service anyone. Most were more than willing to do so without being asked. Murdina could think of no other reason the laird would ask her to watch Sir Baldwin, and she wondered what could happen to her if she refused.

"I wish for ye to tell me all he says or does. How he acts or any odd habits he might have. Do ye understand me?"

"Aye, m'laird," she replied, praying he would not press her to openly swear that she would do as he asked.

"Good la.s.s. And if ye cannae find me, tell all to Egan or Donald."

The moment the laird was gone, Murdina softly muttered every curse she knew and then heartily wished she knew more. Her laird wished her to spy for him. If that was not appalling enough, he wanted her to keep a close eye on the very man she had just decided she would be wise to avoid as much as possible. Perhaps, she thought, it was past time to continue her search for her cousin.

Chapter Two.

The door to Sir Gillanders Baldwin's bedchamber loomed in front of her like the gaping maw of some huge dungeon. Nay, Murdina thought, a torture chamber where the weapons used to break her will were a fine, manly body, enticing words, beautiful eyes, and a beguiling smile. Each time she approached the room she found herself both reluctant and eager to cross the threshold.

She had been his maid for a week, and the only time she saw him fully clothed was when he was outside his bedchamber. The man had not one drop of modesty in his blood. It puzzled her that he spent so much time s.h.i.+rtless or wearing only his braes. The castle was not a warm place. Most everyone else dressed very warmly to fend off the chill and damp.

And every time she left his bedchamber the laird or one of his men appeared to ask questions about Sir Baldwin. Murdina could sense their frustration with her lack of any useful information. She could hardly tell them that the man was flaunting his beautiful, broad chest and making her heart pound and her hands itch to touch all that taut, golden skin. It had already been hinted that she should crawl into the man's bed to try and gain whatever information they were so eager to learn. She was not about to let them know that she found Sir Gillanders very desirable. Nor could she ever explain that it was not just her virginity she was protecting by not getting intimate with any man, even one that she desired more every day.

Murdina took a deep breath and rapped on the door. The antic.i.p.ation that heated her blood when he called out for her to enter irritated her. She was a grown woman and should be able to control such feelings. The man was playing some game of seduction with her, and she should have the strength to resist.

She stepped into the room, took one look at Sir Gillanders sprawled in his bed, and nearly ran right back out of the room. He was propped up against the pillows, that chest she so admired in full view all the way down to the edge of the fine linen sheet that barely covered his groin. One long leg was outside of that cover, begging to be admired.

That leg was worthy of admiration, she thought as she forced herself to move and put the tray down on the table by the bed. Long, well shaped, and sleekly muscular. The candlelight favored his skin, making its golden color almost glow with warmth. Murdina wondered a little crossly if the man was aware of that. Either he was so vain he thought he could pull her into his bed just by flaunting his body or she had somehow revealed her attraction to him and he believed it fair to try to tempt her into acting upon it.

And why were the candles lit? she wondered and glanced around. The heavy drapes were pulled close over the window, barring the daylight from entering the room. A fire burned in the hearth, making the room comfortably warm, and the day was not a cold one. It seemed a sad waste of candles when the sun would light the room very nicely. Consumed by that puzzle she was able to look at Sir Gillanders without being immediately distracted by his smile.

"Shall I open the drapes, sir?" she asked. " 'Tis a fine, sunny day today."

"Nay, leave them shut." Gillanders saw her confusion and groped for a reason to keep the drapes closed that would ease her obvious suspicion. "I have eyes that are verra sensitive to the bright light the sun can cast. I will open them when it no longer s.h.i.+nes right into the room."

Although she had never heard of such an affliction, Murdina supposed it could be true. He did have eyes of a very unusual color. She realized she was staring into those beautiful eyes, her thoughts slowly clouding, and quickly turned her attention to pouring him a tankard full of the cool cider he preferred.

Gillanders watched her very closely. He could almost smell her attraction to him, and it fed his own. It pleased him that she was not one of those maids who readily tumbled into a man's bed, but it also frustrated him. The need she stirred inside him refused to be placated by any other woman. There had been several women in the keep who had indicated that they would be more than willing to warm his bed, but he had no interest in them. That troubled him a little for, as his mother liked to say, the men in the Callan line did their best to live up to the randiness of the tomcat in their blood. The MacNachton half was not one to deny itself pleasure, either. Turning away a willing woman who met his meager qualifications of reasonably clean and comely was not his usual habit.

"So, tell me, Murdina, how do the laird and his men fare this fine morning?" he asked as he helped himself to the bowl of honey-sweetened porridge she held out to him.