Highland Thirst (13 page)

“Heming!”
Brona cried.

The
sound of her panic hit him hard but what happened next nearly blinded Heming
with rage. Angus punched her in the head and she went limp. It was only the
grip of his three companions that stopped him from trying to climb over Hervey
and his men and tearing out Angus’s throat. Instead he had to stand there and
watch Hervey and Angus take Brona away knowing that he was simply too weak at
the moment to stop them.

For
a moment after all the riders had disappeared, Heming just stood there staring
in the direction they had gone. Then he slowly sank to his knees, what little
strength he had abruptly leaving him. Peter, Colin, and Fergus quickly gathered
around him. They were bruised and bloody but alive and obviously in far better
condition than he was.

“What
do ye need, m’laird?” asked Colin.

“I
am nay a laird,” Heming said, not really surprised to hear that the weakness he
felt had invaded his voice.

“Oh,
I think ye will soon be ours,” Peter said. “How badly are ye hurt? I swear, ye
moved so fast I couldnae see where or when ye were hurt but ye are a bloody
mess and I have the feeling a lot of it is your own blood.”

“Aye,
‘tis.” He looked in the direction Brona had been taken and whispered, “I want
Brona.”

“And
we shall get the poor lass back, but ye need to get your strength back first.
Aye, she willnae be treated weel by those bastards and it grieves me to think
what she might suffer, but they willnae kill her. They want something from her,
can gain from her, and that will keep her alive until we can get her out of
there. So tell us what we need to do to get ye back to where ye can be tossing
grown men around like they are pillows.”

“I
need blood.” Despite the fact that he was so close to unconsciousness he could
barely see straight, he felt how all three men tensed. “Nay, not yours. I have
no wish to be sucking on your necks and I suspicion ye have no wish to have me
do it. Nay, I can get what I need at Cambrun. Take me home.”

“Where
is Cambrun?”

Heming
had to struggle to raise his arm enough to point in the direction of home. “See
that rocky hill in the distance?”

“The
one that has all that mist about it?”

“Aye.
At the top is Cambrun.”

“As
ye wish then. We will get ye there.”

“Thank
ye. Oh, and try to remember to keep me out of the sun,” he said and fell
forward as the blackness finally conquered him.

Eight

“Brona?”

It
took Heming only a moment to realize that the small, soft hand he held was not
Brona’s. He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to see who sat at his
bedside. Even as he saw his mother there, she leaned forward and brushed the
hair from his forehead, giving him a kiss there just as she often had when he
was a small boy. He must have been a lot closer to dying than he had realized.

“Thirsty?”
she asked.

“Aye.”

He
waited patiently as she fetched him some wine. One sip told him it was his
father’s
enriched
wine and he began to believe he truly had been in far
worse a condition than he had realized. He obviously needed more than just one
hearty drink of blood to recover. Heming felt a great deal better than he had
before he had fallen face down in the dirt, but he could tell that he was still
weak.

His
mother had just finished plumping up a mound of pillows at his back and helping
him rest against them when his father walked into the room. Heming could tell
by the tight look of anger on his father’s face that Colin, Fergus, and Peter
had already told their tale. He was glad, for it meant he only had to clarify a
few things before he could start planning how to go and get Brona back.

“Have
ye heard how Tearlach fares?” he asked his father.

“Aye,
he fares weel,” replied Jankyn as he moved to stand beside his wife, Efrica,
and idly stroke her hair. “It seems he too had a guardian angel, an English
one.”

“I
must get my angel back.”

“Brona?”
asked his mother, her eyes alight with curiosity.

“Aye,
Brona,” he replied. “How long have I slept?”

“Just
for the day. ‘Tis nay e’en full sunset yet. Ye were near to dying, Heming. That
mon Colin said he e’en decided to give ye some of his blood but he couldnae
rouse ye and he didnae ken how to do it without ye being awake.”

“This
mon Hervey Kerr is one of the hunters?” asked his father.

“Aye.
I suppose ye ken what the mon holding Tearlach wanted.” When his father nodded,
Heming continued, “Hervey wanted me to tell him how to live forever.” He smiled
crookedly at his parents’ identical looks of disgust. “Brona got me out of
there just before Hervey decided that the secret may be in my blood and that he
and his first would make a potion out of it and see how they fared after a
fortnight of drinking it. If they showed signs of healing swiftly and the like
they planned to hold me there and use me to keep making those potions.”

Heming
watched his mother shudder and his father quickly take her small hand in his to
soothe her. “Aye, ‘tis hypocrisy at its worst. He condemns me as a demon
because I drink blood and then decides to use mine and drink it because it
might make him live longer. Brona refused to believe me a demon and what her
cousin wanted to do sickened her, so she set me free.”

“So
your men said. They said ye hid within the keep itself until ye felt it was
safe to try and get away. They also said that ye will be their laird because ye
are going to kill Hervey and marry Brona.”

“Weel,
I can see ye all had a verra nice talk.”

“They
are good men and only a wee bit nervous about being here.” Jankyn grinned when
Heming laughed. “They accept ye.”

“Aye.
Nay so much at first although they didnae kill me when Brona gave me her blood
so that I could recover from her cousin’s torture. I was near to dying then,
too.” He squeezed his mother’s hand when she suddenly grasped his. “My Brona
wasnae so sure she wanted to do it, but she couldnae let me die just because
she was made uneasy about giving me what was needed so that I could live. And
as we traveled here all of them saw many other things about me but didnae flee
or back away. Nay, not e’en after I showed off all my strengths during the
battle in which we lost Brona.”

“And
do ye plan to marry this Brona and become the laird of Rosscurrach?”

“Weel,
I mean to marry Brona but I cannae say if that will make me laird of
Rosscurrach or nay. It may weel do so as I think there isnae anyone else, no
males leastwise.”

“Then
ye shall start with three loyal men who ken the truth about ye and dinnae care.
A verra good start.”

“But
first I must get my Brona free of those bastards.” Heming cautiously sat up,
almost grinning at how hard his mother had to work at not moving to help him. “Weel,
it may be a few more hours, I fear, but I am strong enough to make my plans.”

“Hervey
will be shut up tight in Rosscurrach. It willnae be an easy battle.”

Heming
smiled and knew it was a cold smile of anticipation. “Oh, it will be verra easy
for I ken how to get inside without being seen—the same way me, Brona, and
those three nervous men of mine got out. Oh, and the dog.” He winked at his
mother. “We did manage to convince Brona that it would be best if she left her
cat, Havoc, with Colin’s mother.”

“Do
ye love this Brona, Heming?” asked his mother.

A
little annoyed when he actually felt himself blush and his father grinned
widely, Heming grimaced and decided to tell the truth. “She is my mate. Do ye
ken, when she first came to me whilst I was in my cage, I tried to think of how
she may be just another trick, sent to make me feel as if I had an ally and
thus get me to tell her things I refused to tell Hervey. I couldnae do it. Oh,
I didnae tell her anything, but I simply couldnae believe she was part of it
all. And after she rescued me and then offered me her blood so that I could
heal, I knew. I just havenae told her yet.”

“Then
we had best get her free so that ye may do so. I am curious about one thing. Do
ye feel the urge to mark her?”

“Och,
aye. Verra strongly. Why?”

“Oh,
no verra important reason. I am just trying to keep a record so that we may
eventually ken just how strong that particular urge is. At the moment, it
appears to be a verra strong one indeed.”

Jankyn
nodded. “Your mother decided that it might be useful to keep a record of what
disappears and what lingers when a child is born to a MacNachton and an
Outsider. We ken verra little about such mixes and ignorance is ne’er a good
thing. Ye are actually the strongest, er, mix yet, taking a great deal from
both of us.”

“Aye,
of all the things both families tried to breed out,” Heming said, smiling so
that they knew he was not unhappy with what he was.

“Actually
if ye look at the list your mother has made, most of what ye kept are the
strengths, all the hunting and fighting skills. Weel, we shall talk of this
another time. Ye will sense the importance of it when ‘tis time for your own
child to appear. Now we shall plan how to free your mate. Do ye think her life
is in danger? Your men didnae.”

“I
am nay as certain as they are, but it could be because she is my mate.”

“Aye,
calm reason is verra hard to grasp when one’s mate is threatened. Colin
believes there is some gain for this mon Angus and the laird if Brona weds with
Angus. He also seems to truly believe that, if Hervey Kerr dies and Brona
marries, she will be heir for ye can stand in the place of the laird. ‘Tis nay
uncommon for a laird to have his daughter be his heir on condition that she
marry. Have we nay had such a thing happen within our own family? It will need
to be looked into. It would nay be so strange if this mon Hervey isnae telling
your Brona the full truth about her father’s last wishes.”

“I
will do that as soon as I put that bastard in the ground.” He grimaced and
looked at his mother. “Pardon,
Maman.
”

“No
need, son,” she said and smiled sweetly. “He is a bastard and I hope ye put him
in the ground verra soon.”

“Weel,
I am nay sure how easy it will be to get too many men in through the way we got
out,” said Colin as he stood near the window of Heming’s bedchamber and rubbed
his chin as he thought the matter over. “We slipped out because no one was
doing the work they should have been doing, aye? Resting whilst the laird was
gone and all. They will all be ready for an attack this time, looking out for
the enemy so that they can live through yet another of the laird’s mistakes.”

Heming
yanked on his boots and then laced them up. He was finally feeling better, his
weakness gone. It had taken the offer of blood from a cousin to finally help
him recover his strength, but now he was eager to get back to Rosscurrach and
find his Brona. Colin was right, however. They might know a secret way into the
keep, but the guard on the walls would be tight and very watchful.

But
would they all be eager to die for Hervey Kerr? Heming suddenly thought. “How
many of the men now manning the walls of Rosscurrach are loyal to Hervey?”

“Wheesht,
I doubt ye would find a full handful, why?”

“Because
mayhap the simplest thing to do is lessen the number of men on those walls by
letting them ken that ‘tis Hervey who has committed a wrong and that Brona is
the true heir as soon as she marries. All we want to do is save her from the
brutal Angus and give her back what is hers by right of birth.”

“Verra
good,” murmured Jankyn.

“It
could work,” said Peter. “I could—“

“Nay,
ye must nay be seen by anyone who might feel inclined to tell Hervey ye are
back at Rosscurrach. He will recognize ye. I suspicion there are others at the
keep who will recognize ye as weel.”

Peter
sighed and acknowledged that truth with a nod. “‘Tis humiliating but I fear there
were a few who kenned exactly why the laird dragged me into his dungeon.”

“Weel,
few will say aught about me or Fergus,” said Colin. “I am nay sure that e’en
Hervey would. We are just shepherds, aye? Hervey doesnae look down that far.
Probably afraid he will fall off his horse.”

Jankyn
laughed and shook his head. “If ye feel that sure ye willnae be in much danger
if ye suddenly appear within the walls of Rosscurrach then ye must go. One mon
may be enough if Fergus isnae wanting to slip inside that snake pit.”

“Oh,
I go where Colin goes,” said Fergus. “If he gets me killed I will just follow
him where’er he goes after and keep whining about how ‘tis all his fault my
promising young life was cut so short.” He grunted when Colin rapped him on the
head with his knuckles but then grinned. “Dinnae ye worry none, laird,” he said
to Heming. “We will make verra sure that a lot of the fellows inside the keep’s
walls find somewhere else to be when the fighting starts.”

“Are
ye sure they will be so willing to let me slip in?” asked Heming. “Dinnae they
think I am a soul-sucking demon?”