Highland Thirst (24 page)

Swallowing
his rage, Tearlach took a steadying breath. He had to feed to get them both out
of there, but he would not do it as she wished and lap at her wrist like a
hungry dog licking at a bit of meat as she looked on with silent disgust...and
he would not hurt her.

“Tearlach?”
Lucy whispered and there was uncertainty and concern on her face again as she
peered at him.

He
forced a smile to lips that felt stiff and dry and whispered, “Kiss me.”

She
blinked in surprise at the request but at least did not appear repulsed at the
idea, instead she simply appeared confused. “Should you not feed? I fear you
are very weak. If you lose consciousness before you can feed, we—”

“Kiss
me,” Tearlach repeated softly, insistently.

“But—I...”
Lucy flushed a pretty pink and looked away as if for an escape.

Tearlach
didn’t repeat the request, but leaned forward slightly and caught her lips with
his own. She didn’t pull away or resist, but simply stayed still under his lips
at first and then Tearlach managed to raise his hand to her shoulder and slide
it clumsily into her hair to hold her head in place. Though it was a weak hold
indeed and one she would have had no difficulty escaping had she tried, she
didn’t, but breathed out a little sigh as he tilted his own mouth on hers and
slid his tongue out to tease her lips apart. The moment she allowed him in,
Tearlach put all his waning strength into the kiss and suddenly found reserves
he hadn’t known he had.

They
were both panting with the effort when he tore his lips away and began to press
butterfly kisses to her cheek and then down her throat.

“Tearlach,”
she breathed, her voice trembling with myriad emotions. Not one of them fear.

“Aye,”
he breathed against her neck.

“You
must feed,” she whispered on a moan.

“Aye,”
he breathed and then sank his teeth into her neck. He felt her stiffen, but it
was only a brief, automatic response. He was already infusing her with the
pleasure and relief he was experiencing.

Moaning
deep in her throat, Lucy sank against Tearlach and allowed her eyes to drift
closed as her body shuddered and shivered under the pleasure suddenly coursing
through her.

Part
of her mind was full of wonder. She’d never expected offering her blood to him
to be such a pleasurable experience. Another part of her mind was grateful that
Tearlach hadn’t bitten her when Wymon had tried to force him to earlier. The
idea of experiencing this with Carbonnel and his men looking avidly on was
horrifying. She suspected Wymon Carbonnel wouldn’t have made the offer had he
realized what feeding consisted of. He’d wanted to scare and torture her into
agreeing to marry him, not offer her a pleasurable experience.

Tearlach
suddenly pulled away from her with a gasp, and Lucy allowed her head to fall
back against his supportive arm, watching him as he stared up at the ceiling,
his mouth partly open and fangs visible. She stared at the teeth with
fascination, finding it hard to believe that his bite had not been painful, but
instead had given her pleasure.

Leaving
the puzzle to be considered at another time, she shifted her eyes to his face
and frowned. While he’d regained some of his color and wasn’t quite the same
shade as parchment anymore, he didn’t really look much healthier than he had
before he’d fed and it seemed obvious to her that he needed more blood.

“You
need more,” she said quietly.

Tearlach
closed his eyes as if against temptation and shook his head. “Ye can no’ give
more without growin’ weak yerself.”

Lucy
bit her lip. It seemed to her that his strength would come in handier than her
own. Were it necessary, he could carry her. The same could not be said for her
ability to carry him. “Perhaps if you took just a little more—”

Tearlach
shook his head, but merely said, “Stand up.”

“What?”
she asked with confusion.

“Stand
up,” he insisted.

Lucy
had no idea why he wished it, but rather than argue, she simply slid from his
embrace and stood up next to him, reaching for the wall with surprise when the
room swam briefly around her.

“I’ve
already weakened ye. I’ve taken enough,” he insisted quietly and when she made
to protest, added, “the amount I need wid kill ye, lass.”

Lucy
frowned, but didn’t argue further. Instead, she asked, “Can you walk?”

Tearlach
was silent and unmoving for a moment, then gathered himself and forced himself
to his feet. He stood, swaying slightly, but he stood under his own power and
Lucy supposed it would have to be enough for now.

Moving
under his arm, she took some of his weight as she steered him toward the door.
Tearlach didn’t protest her aid and that more than anything told her that he
wasn’t as strong as he claimed. From what she had learned these last few days
as they talked, she knew he was a proud man who would not enjoy needing anyone’s
help, let alone a woman’s. Obviously he was weak enough to swallow his pride.
He definitely needed more blood, but she knew he would not take hers. Her best
hope was that they ran across one of Wymon’s men on his own and Tearlach was
able to feed off him. Fully.

Lucy
felt bad just for thinking the thought since it would mean the man’s death, but
they were being held prisoner here unjustly and against their will. And neither
of them would meet a happy end if they did not escape. If it meant helping him
to feed off of a lone soldier they caught unawares, she would do it.

Burdened
by these grim thoughts and the little bit of his weight Tearlach was allowing
her to take, Lucy led him out of the dungeon and to the stairs leading above.

“Where
does that door come oot?” Tearlach asked when they paused at the foot of the
stairs.

Lucy
bit her lip and considered the question. She had been to Carbonnel half a dozen
times in her life including this last visit with her brother, but had never
really had a tour. Finally, she shook her head. “I do not think it leads into
the great hall. Mayhap the kitchens.”

Tearlach
grimaced. “Let us hope not.”

“Nay,”
Lucy murmured. The kitchens in a castle this size would be a constant buzz of
activity. Not a spot where they could easily avoid being seen leaving. Sighing,
she eased out from under his arm. “Wait here and I shall take a peek.”

Before
he could protest, Lucy slipped quickly up the stairs to the door at the top.
She paused to take a deep breath, and then eased the door open enough to peer
out. Her eyes widened incredulously as she realized she was looking into the
Carbonnel Barracks where the soldiers slept when they were not about their
duties. At the moment, those barracks were nearly empty with only two men
remaining inside, both appearing sound asleep. It seemed their timing was
fortuitous. The rest of the men were either up on the wall or at table.

Her
gaze slid over the room, pausing on bits of clothing lying about; a tunic here,
a pair of braies there, and one or two scraps of what appeared to be jupons
with the Carbonnel colors. Thank God men were not the most tidy of creatures,
she thought, and then peered back at Tearlach. She gestured for him to wait
where he was, and then checked the room once more before slipping into it and
moving along the beds, snatching up bits of cloth until she had two full
uniforms.

Lucy
made her way back to the door, slid onto the stairs, and eased it closed, not
realizing she’d been holding her breath until she sucked a deep draught of the
fetid dungeon air into her depleted lungs. Shaking her head, she hurried back
down the stairs to Tearlach’s side.

“The
door leads into the barracks,” she informed him quietly, sorting through the
clothes she’d retrieved. “Here, we have to change into these.”

Tearlach
grimaced as he accepted the clothes she handed him and she couldn’t blame him.
They weren’t exactly sweet smelling. Most of them appeared to be cast offs that
had been replaced because of their poor condition, but neither of them were in
a position to complain.

Turning
away from her, Tearlach leaned against the wall and began to disrobe. All it
took was one tug and his plaid fell away. Lucy flushed with embarrassment and
quickly turned her back to the sight. Leaving him by the stairs, she slipped
back into the dungeon they’d shared and quickly pulled the braies on under her
gown, then removed the dress to don the tunic and the jupon with the Carbonnel
colors. Lucy then ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of her gown and used it
to tie back her hair. She then slipped it down her back under the tunic and
jupon.

Finished,
Lucy moved quickly back out to rejoin Tearlach, relieved to see that he had
managed to don his own clothes without aid. She didn’t think she had it in her
to dress the man. She would have done it if she had to, but really, it would
have been mortifying.

Tearlach
smiled faintly when she returned, but then sighed and shook his head.

“What?”
she asked with concern.

“Ye
look far too pretty tae pass fer a boy, lass. We shall be spotted at once.”

Lucy
bit her lip and hesitated, then knelt and ran her hands over the stone floor,
relieved when she lifted them and saw that they were covered in dirt. Managing
not to grimace at the necessity, she raised her hands to her face and scrubbed
the dirt onto her cheeks, nose, and forehead and then straightened and faced
Tearlach in question.

His
mouth twisted with weary amusement, but he nodded. “Better.”

Shoulders
sagging with relief, Lucy slid her arm under his again and they made their way
slowly up the stairs. Lucy managed not to chivvy him to hurry, but had to bite
her lip to keep from doing so. She was very aware of the time passing and the
danger that they would reach the top of the stairs only to find that the men
had finished their meal or whatever it was that was keeping them from the
barracks and that they had a room full of guards to get through.

Pausing
at the top of the stairs, she forced a smile for him, then eased the door open
and peered out into the barracks, her eyes widening when she saw that luck was
with them. Not only were the other men not returned, but one of the men who had
been there sleeping when she’d been in the room earlier had apparently awoken
and left. There was only one man left in the barracks and he was snoring
soundly.

“Come,”
Lucy said and helped Tearlach into the room. They moved slowly along the row of
beds until they reached the one where the lone soldier slept and then it was
Lucy who stopped.

When
Tearlach glanced at her in question, she glanced toward the door, and then back
to the man before whispering, “Feed.”

The
Scot’s eyes widened incredulously at the suggestion and he shook his head
before whispering, “No time. Too risky.”

Lucy
frowned, but bowed to his decision and continued forward to the door leading
out of the barracks. She was glad she had not insisted when she eased the door
open and spotted the group of men moving across the bailey in their direction.
They would have been interrupted and discovered for sure.

Her
gaze swept the courtyard. The day was waning, the sun no longer visible in the
sky as night settled in. She hoped that would aid them, it would make them less
recognizable at least.

A
shout from the direction of the keep doors made the group stop and turn to wait
for one of their comrades and Tearlach immediately hissed, “Quickly.”

Lucy
was already moving. Fear and adrenaline either gave her added strength, or gave
him temporary strength, either way, between the two of them they managed to
rush out and around the building out of sight before being spotted. Pausing at
the back of the barracks, they both leaned against the wall while they got
their bearings.

“Where
are the stables?” Tearlach gasped.

His
question made her straighten to peer around and Lucy could have wept with
relief when she realized exactly where they were. They stood in an alley of
sorts between two buildings, the one they leaned against was the barracks, the
building across from them was the stables. Before she could tell him so, the
faint whicker of a horse drew his gaze to the building no more than ten feet in
front of them. She nodded when he turned a questioning gaze her way.

“Wait
here,” she whispered and slipped away, hurrying to the opposite structure and
then moving quickly around the side of it. She paused to glance over the busy courtyard,
but when she didn’t spot anyone paying her any undue attention, she
straightened away from the wall, tried for a young man’s swagger, and strode
around front and into the stables.

Lucy
had no plan and simply hoped that if she walked in and began to saddle a horse
as if she were about some purpose, no one would question her. As it happened,
it seemed the stable master was at his meal as well. The stables appeared
empty.

Sending
up a silent prayer of thanks, Lucy peered along the row of horses, her heart
lightening when she spotted her mare. Trinket was a beautiful black, fast and
smart and affectionate. She would also carry two riders with little difficulty.
A good thing since she didn’t think Tearlach could stay in the saddle on his
own.