Highland Thirst (33 page)

Lucy
glared back at the man, wanting to kick him in the shins and claw his face, but
her limbs were trembling from her efforts at escape and she simply didn’t have
the energy. Instead, she opened her mouth and shrieked long and loud.

She
knew Tearlach was a very sound sleeper, and really had no hope that he’d hear
her and wake, but was so exhausted and defeated there seemed little else to do.
However, the action just seemed to anger the man standing over her. He winced
as the sound assaulted his ears, then cursed, and dragged her to her feet.

When
she immediately found some reserves of strength and began to struggle, the man
slapped her hard enough across the face to send her back to her knees. “Ye’ve
two choices, lass,” he snapped. “Ye walk back under yer own power, or I carry
ye back unconscious over me shoulder. Either way, ye
are
going back with
me.”

They
were the last words he spoke. In the next moment Tearlach charged out of the
bothy, sword in hand and a furious growl on his lips. Lucy immediately found
herself falling to the side as she was released, and instinctively rolled
further out of the way as the soldier drew his sword. The sound of metal
clashing against metal made her glance back as her roll came to an end. The men
were battling in earnest. Lucy got swiftly to her feet, half her attention on
the battle now taking place, the other half searching the ground nearby for a
boulder or something else to use against the soldier.

It
wasn’t that she did not think Tearlach could beat the man, but the sun was full
out and she feared his strength would not last long. Lucy could see the red
rising on his face already and knew the damage the sun was doing would quickly
sap his strength. All she could think was the sooner they took care of the
soldier and got Tearlach back out of the sun, the better.

Lucy
had just spotted a good-sized rock and moved to collect it when a death cry
brought her head around. She sagged with relief on seeing the soldier impaled
on Tearlach’s sword. All three of them stood still for a moment, and then
Tearlach withdrew his sword. The other man immediately dropped, a marionette
with his strings cut.

Forgetting
the rock, Lucy hurried forward as Tearlach stumbled back a step and dropped to
his knees. He may have won the battle, but the sun had taken its toll. She had
to get him out of the sun at once, she realized, slipping silently under his
arm to force him back to his feet.

“Inside,”
Lucy gasped urgently as she managed to wrest him upright. Tearlach didn’t waste
energy speaking, but merely stumbled forward with her help and back toward the
bothy. The sword he still clutched dragged on the ground beside him.

Once
inside, Lucy tried to steer him toward the open trapdoor, but Tearlach’s
strength gave out before she could get him there. Unable to hold him upright,
she cried out with alarm as he dropped his sword and stumbled to his knees,
then fell on his face.

Lucy
could have wept, in fact, her eyes did well up with hopelessness as she peered
toward the trapdoor and took in the distance to it. Then she forced herself to
rally and glanced around the shed. The amount of light coming through the hole
where a door should be didn’t reach far into the stone hut. The back of the
bothy was a hive of shadow, as was one side. The shadows along the side wall
weren’t as deep as the ones at the back, but they were closer.

Lucy
caught Trinket’s reins and moved the horse the few steps to the other side of
the hut to make room, then dropped to kneel beside Tearlach and put all her
effort into rolling him out of the light and against the wall. It was certainly
easier than dragging him to the trapdoor and pushing him in would have been,
but she was exhausted from the chase and it was still a lot of work. Only once
she had him on his side and pressed up against the wall in the thin band of
shadow did she pause to examine the damage he’d taken.

The
soldier hadn’t managed to land a single blow, but Tearlach was in a serious
way. All Lucy could see was the exposed skin of his face and hands, but it was
more than enough. The breath hissed out of her as she took in his raw red
blistered skin.

The
last time he’d been exposed to the sun had seemed to barely bother him, but
then it had been the pale light of dawn, further weakened by cloud cover. This
time it was full light out with not a cloud to give relief, and the exposure
had been longer. Tearlach was in a bad way.

His
eyes opened suddenly.

“How
can I help?” Lucy asked anxiously as she saw the agony in the black depths of
his eyes.

“Blood,”
Tearlach growled and for a moment she thought he meant her own, but then he
added, “find me someone.”

Lucy
didn’t even think, she simply got quickly to her feet and scrambled back out
into the clearing to the fallen man. Kneeling by his head, she caught him under
the shoulders and grunted as she heaved backward, dragging him toward the door.
The man didn’t make a move or sound that suggested he was alive, but then she
hadn’t expected it. Having seen the wound he’d taken, she knew it was a killing
blow, and had no compunction at all about letting Tearlach feed on him.

Getting
him inside and to Tearlach was the problem. He wasn’t as big as Tearlach and
seemed almost light in comparison, but she had much further to move him.
Determination was the only thing that allowed Lucy to get him to the door of
the hut. She’d managed to get him halfway through the door when a sound from
Tearlach made her peer his way. Seeing that his eyes were open and he was
trying to say something, she released the soldier and moved quickly to his
side.

“What
is it?” she asked anxiously.

“Dead?”
he asked breathlessly, his gaze sliding back to the man by the door.

“Aye,”
Lucy admitted, frowning when he immediately shook his head.

“No
good...Blood o’ the dead...poison to us.”

Lucy
sagged where she sat, her exhaustion crowding in and making her feel hopeless,
then she forced herself to sit upright and held her arm out toward him. Only he
wasn’t aware of the gesture, his eyes had closed.

“Tearlach,”
she whispered, reaching to touch his face, only to change her mind at the last
minute and settle it on his arm rather than risk causing him pain by touching
his damaged face.

Much
to her relief, his eyes opened at once and Lucy forced a smile and held her arm
out so that her wrist was before his mouth. “Go ahead. Feed.”

Tearlach
merely closed his eyes with the slightest shake of the head. “Leave me. Others
will search fer ‘im. Ye ha’e tae get away.”

Lucy
didn’t need to ask who the “him” was he spoke of, but his words reminded her of
the man’s comrade in the woods. He was probably still there...healthy and with
living blood.

“Tearlach?”
she whispered, touching his shoulder again, but this time he didn’t stir, let
alone open his eyes. He was unconscious. Despite that, Lucy squeezed his
shoulder and whispered, “I’ll not leave you. I shall find someone for you to
feed on. All will be well.”

She
waited a moment to see if he would respond, but he was fully unconscious now.
Concern clouding her eyes, Lucy stood and turned away, picking up the sword he’d
dropped as she went. She didn’t have the energy to drag anyone anywhere, the
weapon would come in handy to force her quarry to come back here with her to
the bothy.

If
she was still around the woman would be the easier target, Lucy thought, and
suspected her nakedness would make sure she was still in the woods somewhere.
She was probably out there stumbling around, trying to find the thief who had
stolen her dress. Once Tearlach had fed on her, he should have the strength to
go out and find the other soldier himself. Lucy was too weary to manage the
man, though she’d try if necessary.

Her
own thoughts made Lucy pause as she realized how far she had sunk. She’d stolen
a dress, fed a youth to Tearlach the other night, and now planned to find and
feed a woman to him too. Surely she was going to hell.

Nay,
her mind argued at once. She had stolen the dress out of necessity. Besides she
could give it back after Tearlach had fed on the woman. As for feeding him the
youth and now this woman...well he had fed from Lucy herself and it had done
her no harm that she could see. She was alive and well, her soul still intact
as far as she could tell. As were all the others he’d fed on. The only person
who had been killed was the man now blocking the doorway of the bothy and he’d
died from a sword through the chest in a fair battle after trying to force her
to go with him.

Speaking
of the man in the doorway, she suddenly realized she would have to move him.
She could hardly leave him there to draw the attention of anyone passing. The
very idea of the effort needed for the task was enough to make Lucy sag where
she stood. She was so tired.

Suddenly
overwhelmed by it all, Lucy paused and rested the tip of the sword in the dirt,
then lowered her head and wearily closed her eyes. Just a moment, she told
herself. She would rest for just one moment and then go in search of the woman.

“You
bitch.”

That
soft hiss brought her head up with a start. Lucy stared wide-eyed at the man
now standing in the bothy doorway. The sun was behind him, casting his features
in shadow and for one mad moment, she was sure the soldier had risen from the
dead to smite her. But then she realized the man filling the doorway stood with
his feet planted on either side of the fallen man. It was the second man from
the clearing, and he was furious, she saw as he shifted and his stark glare was
briefly caught by sunlight. She watched warily as he peered down at his dead
comrade, noting with dread that his sword was out, clutched in a tight,
white-knuckled hold.

Her
eyes were still on the hand holding the sword when it started to move upward.
Heart leaping, Lucy instinctively lifted Tearlach’s sword as the man stepped
over his friend and rushed her. She was too slow, however, or perhaps it was
fairer to say that he was simply faster. She barely had the tip of the sword
off the ground before he slapped it away with his own, sending Tearlach’s
weapon flying. Trinket whinnied and scooted out of the way of the flying
missile. However, it really was tight quarters and she was forced to leap over
the prone man in the doorway and out of the bothy to escape it.

Rather
than move closer to Tearlach to escape the man, when he continued forward Lucy
shifted into the space Trinket had been filling just moments ago. It took them both
away from Tearlach and also drew her closer to the sword and a bit of wood
leaning up against the wall at her back. They were the only weapons in the hut
and she had no doubt she was going to need a weapon. The Scot she faced
appeared to be in a cold rage over the death of his comrade. She didn’t like
the way he was brandishing that sword.

“It
took me a bit o’ time to realize who Hamish meant when he said, ‘’Tis her,’ the
man growled, following her step by step. “But he was at the inn when ye were
taken and talked endlessly about ye when he returned to Rosscurrach with the
others. Goin’ on about yer pretty blond hair and yer full lips, the kind that
put pictures in a mon’s head.”

Lucy
risked a glance back, trying to place the distance to the piece of wood she had
her hopes on.

“Had
he just said ye were Lady Blytheswood, I’d ha’e been hard on his heels, but he
didnae and by the time I sorted it oot, the two o’ ye were well ahead o’ me. I
had to track ye...else I’d ha’e been here in time to save him.”

Lucy
stumbled slightly as her foot came down on Tearlach’s sword, but she kept her
balance and forced her shoulders straight as she said, “Aye. I am Lady
Blytheswood. The woman your laird’s partner Wymon Carbonnel wishes to marry.
You would do well not to harm me.”

She
wasn’t encouraged when this brought a short, angry laugh from the man. “The
last I heard, Carbonnel wants ye back dead or alive. I’m thinkin’ it’ll be
dead.” He smiled coldly and withdrew a sgian dubh from his waist even as he
tossed his sword aside. “But first I’ll be makin’ ye pay fer killing Hamish. He
was a big stupid oaf but he was me friend and I’ll enjoy makin’ ye sorry ye
killed him.”

He
lunged for her then, but Lucy had already reached back for the wood and now
swung it around, aiming for his head. The wood connected with a crack that
echoed in the small hut and the man stumbled back, a stunned look on his face
as his hand rose to the wound she’d given him.

Lucy
would have hit him again then, but she’d swung the wood one-handed and the
impact had made it vibrate painfully in her hand. She almost dropped the
weapon, but managed to get her second hand on it and hold on. Before she could
deliver a second blow, however, the soldier recovered enough to launch himself
at her. Lucy grunted in pain and fell back as he crashed into her. Her head hit
the ground hard enough that Lucy lost her hold on the wood she’d been using as
a weapon, but she hardly noticed the loss as pain radiated through her stomach
as the Scot followed her down.

His
full weight only rested on her a minute before he pushed his upper body up and
away from her to peer down the length of them. When he turned his gaze back to
her face there was an unholy satisfaction to his expression.