MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE: Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (22 page)

Unmoved by his taunts, she took another sip of wine to wash down the last of her meal. “My father has other business, as I am sure Jasper informed you, but he will be along.” The sudden thought that her father might not arrive for at least another day—perhaps even longer—sent a shiver of uncertainty through her. Though she had not originally counted on his assistance, even wanted to handle this herself, the reality she was indeed on her own to finish this confrontation loomed before her. Because she would rather die than let Angus touch her in the ways he threatened, she feared she would not live long enough for her father’s rescue.

Angus peered around his shoulder toward his head henchman and the color drained from Jasper’s face. “First you do not bring me the complete package,” Angus growled. “And now I learn Broderick was away from his family?”

“I had no time to inform you, m’lord! I had only learned—”

“You and I will discuss this later, much to my enjoyment.” Turning his attention back to Cailin, Angus dropped his mask of anger and his face melted into pleasantry once more. “You address him as ‘father’, I see.” He feigned a wounded expression. “Pray tell, do not say I am the one to break your heart by informing you he is truly not your father.”

She chuckled. “Fear not, Angus. You need not weather the burden of such a task. I am well aware of my parentage. But Broderick MacDougal has been more of a father to me than that monster Ian Russell could have ever hoped to accomplish.” She would have to get closer to Angus, but at this moment still wasn’t ready to do so and aimed to keep the conversation going to buy the time needed to build her courage.

“I am relieved, then,” Angus continued with his taunting. “Being so well-informed about your situation, sweet Cailin, I am assuming you must also know that my dear brother is only using you and your mother to make up for past sins?” He leaned forward and poured himself another cup of wine, then settled back into his chair with a devilish glint in his eyes. “A truly well-adjusted and astounding woman you are if this be so.”

Broderick had warned Cailin several times that Angus Campbell was a liar and lived a life entrenched in his own delusions about the truth of their heritage. Yet she struggled with the trepidation rising within her over his words. “If you speak of the past sins regarding the lives he has taken, I know of them and that is not the purpose of our family.”

“Nay, Cailin.” Angus placed both feet on the floor and propped his elbows on his knees, cradling the goblet of wine in his hands. He stared into the cup almost as if he wished to divine the past from it. “I speak of the guilt Broderick harbors in his black heart over abandoning his own flesh and blood.” The lower registers of his voice and his piercing eyes regarding her from under his fiery brows gave Cailin great pause over such deadly intent. He sighed and sat back again, boredom washing the anger from his face like rain washes away a layer of dust.

She fought the urge to shake her head from his dizzying mood swings. Angus’s unpredictability in his ever-changing countenance was unnerving. He sipped his wine. Eyes roaming about the Grand Hall, he relayed his history as if he reflected on the latest conditions of the weather. “Our father, Hamish MacDougal, seduced my mother, Alyssa Campbell. Hamish knew my mother was with child, and yet he did not claim me as his son.” And like the weather, shifted into a black demeanor as suddenly as an unexpected storm. “The man married to my mother—Fraser Campbell—was far from being a loving father, but at least
he
took on the responsibility of raising me.” Angus brooded over his cup. “Fraser never let me forget how the MacDougals abandoned me and deprived me of my rightful place as Hamish’s son.”

Cailin frowned at Angus’s perspective of her family history. How much blood had been spilled over a possible misunderstanding? “Angus,” she dared to offer. “Are you certain Broderick knew? What if Hamish—?”

For a moment, sadness clouded Angus’s eyes. Then mayhap even a measure of hope glimmered. A mirthless laugh rumbled from his chest and he threw his cup against the wall behind her.

* * * * *

The clanging of a bowl or cup startled James and he winced from the stabbing pain in his shoulder. He stole a sip from the bottle in his pocket. He had snuck over the field unnoticed and dispatched the three men standing guard at the castle entrance. A sharp blade and the indifference he gained from the laudanum made the task an easy one. Mortals must surely be ineffective at defending and fighting immortals, so he spent little time pondering the lack of protection posted around the grounds.

The activity centered around what, he assumed, was the main hall of the castle and stairs led to a second level. He crept up the stairs and peered around the wall, sizing up the distance between him and the man standing at the door on the landing. Checking behind him once more, James advanced slowly…quietly…stiletto poised.

“I was the bastard son of Hamish MacDougal!” the voice below yelled. “The man who waged war after war against
my
home and what little family I had, trying to kill me to erase his mistake!”

James eased the body to the floor, having slit his throat, while the man in the main hall screamed over his history.

“But that was
Hamish
!”

James snapped his head up.
Cailin!
He crawled across the floor and peeked through the doorway, the stretch of landing before him. He chanced peering over the half-wall thankfully hiding him.

In one stride, a man—who strongly resembled Broderick MacDougal—slammed his fists onto a table and towered over Cailin. “Broderick MacDougal stood right by Hamish’s side in battle! Rick stood by our father, boasting his position as eldest son and heir to their small fortune, not wanting to share his legacy with the
tainted
blood of a Campbell…even though MacDougal blood ran through
my
veins. Rick carried on the legacy of our father after his death, never stopping the wars. So do not tell me Rick did not know.” The man James now assumed was Angus Campbell turned away from Cailin and raked his fingers through his shoulder-length auburn hair…aye, so much like Broderick’s. From this distance, he appeared a younger version of James’s future father-in-law. How had Broderick never seen the resemblance?

Stealing one more glance at Cailin, he was grateful that at least she was not in Campbell’s grasp. He peeked out just a tad farther and groaned inwardly when another man stood at his post on the opposite landing across the room.

James sat on the floor and sighed. He would need to sneak around to the other side and repeat a death blow to the other guard.

* * * * *

Cailin gulped her wine for courage and did her best not to cower before Angus. He reveled in the fear of his victims.

Angus returned his murderous glare to her. “Now that you know the truth, you must realize his motivations for taking in a family, for caring for you as his own daughter, do you not?” He strode forward and rested his fists upon the table once more as he loomed over her. “He thinks he can salve his guilty conscience with a good deed.” A sneer curled his lips and he rose to his full height, crossing his arms. “Truly, you are nothing to him but his failed attempt at redemption.”

Broderick loved her as if his own blood ran through her veins, as if he had been the one to plant the seed in her mother’s womb. The years in his fatherly embrace, the endless memories of his comfort, advice and their laughter were Cailin’s testimony against Angus’s lies. Yet why did her throat tighten with grief? The nagging pins of doubt pricked her resolve.

Why else would Broderick take such a chance with our lives, his very presence putting us in danger from his enemy, if not for another reason? Surely if he loved us, he would have sacrificed living with us as a family if it meant our survival.
These were the arguments she’d had with herself whenever danger reared its destructive head.

“Broderick stays with us
for
our protection,” her mother assured her when Cailin had voiced her questions after Angus’s first successful abduction.

Angus’s whisper at her ear startled her into the present. “I see the doubt in your eyes, sweet Cailin.” His chuckle brushed warm against her cheek. “The sooner you realize the truth…” His tongue flicked out to taste the tender flesh behind her ear. She shivered. “The sooner you will be free from the prison of Broderick’s fantasies.”

Cailin pushed away from Angus and rose from her chair, escaping on unsteady legs around the table, to stand at the center of the Grand Hall. She eyed the doorway, longing to run…but she couldn’t. If she did, Angus would easily overpower her. The moment had come. She did not relish the thought of Angus touching her, but she would not have the opportunity to strike unless he had her in his grasp. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stood her ground.

She hissed with fright as Angus appeared at her side. Cailin clutched her forearm, using the hardness of the blade in its sheath for comfort. Pivoting to stand behind her, Angus wrapped his arm around her waist like a steel band and nuzzled his mouth against her ear. “Why do you leave me so breathless, Cailin?” he panted. His hand reached up to cup her breast while his other hand grabbed a fistful of her skirts.

Where is the protection of this cursed amulet?

Drawing her trembling lip between her teeth, she blinked and a tear slip down her cheek. Her eyes darted about the room. As she feared, Angus’s men closed in to watch the show. How would she attempt to slip her blade from the sheath up her sleeve before they were upon her? Like dark clouds moving in, dread settled in Cailin’s heart.
Have I failed?

* * * * *

Where is the so-called protection of this amulet?

James clutched the rail of the second level while Campbell wrapped his foul arms around Cailin. With the other dead guard at his feet, James clenched his jaw as his frightened betrothed search her surroundings for an escape. His own eyes darted about the room for anything that would give him the advantage. She was in the arms of the enemy and this man would use her life as leverage. James needed to get her out of his filthy grasp…but how?

Biting back his anger, he inwardly cursed as Campbell’s men closed in. One of them shoved his hand into his breeches, fisting himself as he eyed Campbell’s hands roaming over Cailin’s body.
You will be among the first to die, my friend.

James’s lips curled into a snarl.

* * * * *

Malloren’s warning echoed around the library as Broderick waited for her to continue her games. He cast wary eyes as she inched across the room.

“You must listen to and heed my words.” She took a deep breath and exhaled as if to gain strength. “There are certain events that must take place in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled.”

“I tire of this prophecy, Malloren,” he growled. “And I tire of your delays. Make your point be known.”

“I receive visions constantly.” She continued her path around. “They guide me each step toward a fulfillment and discovery of the prophecy and its milestones.” She stopped before the doorway where Broderick had first stepped into this den of mystery. “I saw a vision of your family in danger.”

The blood drained from his face.

“This event was inevitable and no matter what your actions, Angus was still going to strike.”

Panic seized Broderick’s chest and he panted his anxiety.

“You will understand when this is over, but the key to fulfilling the prophecy…” Her eyes flooded with compassion. “Was to stop you from interfering with their capture.”

He sprang toward the door, but slammed into an invisible wall with a force that knocked the breath from him and dashed him to the stone floor with a grunt. He quickly gained his senses and air filled his lungs again, but the impact had drained him. He forgot she had recited the incantation when they entered the room.

“You are saying he has them now!” he accused. “You lured me down here! Why?”

Chapter Nine

James struggled with the helplessness threatening to consume him and disciplined his mind to conjure a solution. Campbell groped his filthy hands over Cailin’s body, his henchmen gathering ever closer and becoming more lewd with their gestures and comments.

Careful to keep his grumblings to himself, James diverted his eyes away from the source of his rage, hoping to quell his fury and find
something
to spark an idea.

A large, wooden chandelier hung over the center of the hall. It was suspended from the ceiling by a thick chain, rope and pulley which were probably used to lower the fixture to light the many candles. The thick rope was tied securely at a pair of iron hooks on the second level…just a few feet away from where he seethed. The weight of the chandelier was obviously greater than his own. He eyed the rope. He glanced at his knife, surely strong and sharp enough to make it through the taught fibers…and shook his head. A vivid and disturbing image of him cutting the cord and using the weight of the chandelier to propel him into the scene only ended in him slamming against the ceiling and falling to his death.

However, his mouth dropped open as an idea emerged from that fiasco.