The Highlander Takes a Bride (29 page)
Read The Highlander Takes a Bride Online
Authors: Lynsay Sands
Tags: #General, #Historical, #Fiction, #Romance, #Highlander, #bride, #Marriage, #Proper Lady, #Warrior, #Wanton, #Guest, #Target, #Enemy, #Safeguard, #Brothers, #Intrigued, #17th Century, #Adult, #Brawny, #Scotland, #Passion, #Match
“Oh,” Greer breathed, relaxing a little. Smiling crookedly, he took her hands. “That is one o’ the things I love about ye too, Saidh. I love yer strength and yer stubbornness. The wildness that seems to flow through e’ery part o’ yer body,” he said with admiration and bent his head to kiss her. It started out a gentle drifting of his lips over hers, but quickly turned into something more carnal and heated as it always did when he kissed her.
Saidh moaned, and wrapped her arms around Greer’s waist as desire and need began to bubble up within her, building to the point where she was desperate for an outlet. Something aggressive and physical. Tearing her mouth away, she turned her head to the side and gasped, “About the punching.”
“I remember,” he growled by her ear.
“Ye do?” she asked with confusion. “What do ye remember?”
“The stables,” he reminded her, one hand drifting up her thigh under her skirt and she smiled as she recalled that day. Her telling him that the things he did to her made her want to punch him, and his showing her what she really wanted. How long ago it seemed now. A lifetime, she thought, and then pulled back to peer at him when his hand stilled.
“What is it?” she asked worriedly, afraid she was so unattractive now with all her bindings that he couldn’t bear to touch her. Not one to shy from saying what she was thinking, she asked, “It it because I’m wrapped up in linens like a corpse?” Grimacing, she added, “I suppose ’tis hardly attractive.”
“Saidh,” he said seriously, cupping her face in both hands. “I will always find ye beautiful.” He didn’t kiss her then as she hoped, but added, “It’s jest ye’ve so many wounds now, I’m afraid o’ hurting ye.”
“Then keep yer hands below the waist and yer lips above the neck,” she suggested pragmatically, and added, “Because I feel like punching someone.”
A short laugh slipped from Greer’s lips and then he murmured, “As my lady wife demands,” and urged her legs apart so that he could step between them. Pausing then, he caught her face in his hands again and said, “I do love ye, Saidh.”
“And I love ye too, Greer,” she assured him as his lips lowered to claim hers.
Keep reading
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New York Times
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Argeneau novel
Available October 2015
from Avon Books
J
ustin Bricker rolled the gurney stacked with dead rogues in front of the retort. After kicking the wheel locks to keep it in place, he then glanced to Anders, his partner in tonight’s endeavor.
With his dark hair and skin and the black leather clothes he wore, Anders was like a shadow in the white room. He was presently looming over the crematorium technician who stood in the corner. The adult male mortal who had opened the back door at their knock now looked like little more than a naughty schoolboy put there for punishment by an irate teacher. Only the child’s resentment was missing . . . the man’s expression was blank as Anders worked to remove their arrival from his memories and keep him where he stood, safely out of the way.
When Anders relaxed and turned to walk toward him, Justin raised his eyebrows. “Are we good?”
Anders nodded. “But we have to be quick. His shift ends in fifteen minutes. A new guy will be showing up soon.”
“No problem. We’ll be out of here by then. As flammable as we are, these guys will be dust in minutes.” Justin turned to open the door of the retort, and whistled at the wave of heat that blew out at him. He glanced to Anders as the other man reached his side. “So . . . what did you do to piss off Lucian?”
Rather than answer, Anders asked, “What makes you think I did anything to piss him off?”
Justin grinned. “Well, he gave me clean-up duty because I pissed him off. So I figure you must be in the same boat.”
Anders merely grunted and pulled the top body off the stack to send it into the retort.
“Come on,” Justin said as the flames shooting into the retort hit the body and it was set ablaze as if it were made of dry straw. “You must have done something.”
Anders watched him pick up another body to send it into the retort. Finally, he said, “I might have made some joke or other about his missing so many meals at home since Leigh turned vegetarian.”
Justin raised his eyebrows. “That wouldn’t bother him . . . unless you said it in front of Leigh.”
Anders grimaced, and then started to pick up the next body. “Unfortunately, Leigh came into the room behind me as I was saying it. I fear she overheard me.”
“Ah.” Justin winced, knowing Anders wouldn’t have deliberately hurt the woman’s feelings. None of the hunters would. Leigh was a good woman, they all liked her. “Yeah, I bet that— Look out! The head—”
Anders froze with this body half off the gurney, but it was too late. One of the heads had been dislodged and was rolling off the edge of the metal table. Justin made a grab for it, but wasn’t in time and the decapitated head hit the floor with a wet splat.
Both men stood and grimaced at the mess, and then Anders nodded toward the crematorium technician and muttered, “I don’t suppose we can make him clean this up?”
“You suppose right. It would be hard to erase that from his memory and ensure it stayed erased,” Justin said with amusement as he watched Anders grab the head by the man’s long hair and toss it into the retort. It rolled forward like a lopsided bowling ball wobbling into the flame jets, where it exploded into immediate flames. Shaking his head, he murmured, “Like kindling.”
“Yeah, we’re pretty flammable,” Anders commented.
“I guess that makes us hot stuff,” Justin said and laughed at his own joke. It even brought a smile from Anders as he finished lifting the body he held and sent it into the retort after the head. Anders wasn’t known for a sense of humor, so the smile was the equivalent of a belly laugh from anyone else, Justin thought.
A shuffling sound and a moan drew his attention around to a woman standing at the corner of the cooler. She was short and rounded with a wave of raven-black hair pouring over her shoulders and down her back, a shiny black mass against the tan trench coat she wore. She also had one hand pressed against the cooler wall as if to hold herself up, and her complexion was positively green as she stared at the puddle on the floor where the head had been just seconds ago. Justin was pretty sure she’d witnessed the whole head-rolling-off-the-table-onto-the-floor bit. No doubt a gruesome sight for someone not used to dealing with the dead. Hell, he had to do it on a semi regular basis and it had been gruesome to him.
Her eyes lifted reluctantly to him and Anders now and Justin noted that they were a lovely pale blue. She had nice lips too, full and kissable, and the cutest little slightly turned up nose . . . and she was looking at him and Anders with a sort of mindless horror.
“I have the mess on the floor to clean up, so you get to deal with our tourist here,” Anders announced grimly.
“Thanks,” Justin said sarcastically, but didn’t really mind. He loved women, always had, and this one was a cutie. The only shame was that he wouldn’t get to play with more than her mind. Once he took control of her and wiped her memories, he’d have to avoid contact with her again to avoid those memories returning. Ah well, plenty more in the sea, he thought, and concentrated his gaze on her forehead, trying to penetrate her thoughts.
“Well?” Anders asked after a moment. “What are you waiting for? Take control of her.”
Justin blinked, confusion sliding through him and then said weakly, “I can’t.”
“What?” Anders asked with surprise.
“I can’t read her,” he clarified, hardly able to believe it himself. Her thoughts were a complete blank to him.
“Seriously?” Anders asked, eyes narrowing.
“Seriously,” Justin assured him, aware that his voice sounded as dazed as he felt. Damn. He couldn’t read her. That meant—
“Well, then I’d get after her if I were you,” Anders suggested and when Bricker just stared at him in blank confusion, he gestured to where the woman had been just a moment before and pointed out, “She’s running.”
The closing of the door to the hall told him Anders was right before he could turn to see that she was no longer in the room. Cursing, Justin burst into a run. He’d be damned if he was going to let her get away . . . and not because of what she’d seen. He couldn’t read her, and that might mean she could be a life mate for him. Finding a life mate this early in life was pretty damned rare. If he lost her, he wouldn’t be likely to find another for centuries . . . maybe millennia, and Justin had no desire to wait millennia to experience what it was like to have a life mate.
She was quick, he noted with admiration on reaching the hall to see her disappearing through the door at the other end. But then panic could be one hell of a motivation and he had no doubt what she’d seen had raised panic in her.
The thought made Bricker frown as he went after her. He would have a lot of explaining to do once he caught up. He’d have to calm her, and then somehow explain that he wasn’t some murderous bastard destroying evidence of his dastardly work . . . and all without the aid of mind control. That ought to be interesting, he thought unhappily, and his worrying over that made him move more slowly than he could have. He wanted to work out how to explain things before he caught up. He wanted to do it right the first time, calm her quickly, and gain her trust. He couldn’t convince her to be his life mate if she was terrified or suspicious of him. The right words were needed here.
The problem was, Justin didn’t have a clue what those right words were and he was running out of time. It did seem a good idea to stop her before she actually left the building, though, and at that moment she was racing through the last hall, flying past the chapels and columbaria, headed for the exit. Letting go of the worry about what to say, Justin picked up speed and caught her arm just as she reached the door. When he whirled her around, she immediately swung her free arm at him. Expecting paltry girly blows, Justin didn’t react at first and only spotted the scissors she held a heartbeat before they sliced across his throat.
Justin sucked in his breath and released her as pain radiated through him. He saw the fine mist of blood that sprayed out and splashed across her tan coat and immediately covered his throat. The small amount of blood that had showered her told him it wasn’t a deep wound. He was more surprised by the attack than anything else. Still, by the time he turned his attention back to the woman, she’d tugged the door open and was slipping away. Cursing, he ignored his stinging throat and quickly followed.
The woman—his woman—glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening and Justin’s mouth tightened at the sight of her wide terrified eyes. So much for winning her trust, he thought and then cried out as she stumbled. She had been looking back rather than to where she was going and that was her undoing. It left her unprepared for the sudden step down in the sidewalk and she lost her footing. She fell flat on her face. It wasn’t much of a fall though and he fully expected her to pop back up fighting and with feet moving, but instead she lay prone until he reached her side.
Concerned by how still she was, Justin dropped to a crouch and turned her over. He spotted the bloody gash on her forehead first. She’d obviously hit her head on the sidewalk as she fell. It was a good bump, but not that bad, he noted with a relief that turned to horror as he then spotted the scissors protruding from her chest in the small space where the loosely done up coat didn’t meet. Even as Bricker saw that, her eyes opened and then widened with pain and fear of a different kind now. She no longer feared him, at least not as much as she feared for her life. The hell of it was, he was afraid for her life too. It looked bad.
LYNSAY SANDS is the nationally bestselling author of the Argeneau/Rogue Hunter vampire series, as well as numerous historicals and anthologies. She’s been writing since grade school and considers herself incredibly lucky to be able to make a career out of it. Her hope is that readers can get away from their everyday stress through her stories, and if there are occasional uncontrollable fits of laughter, that’s just a big bonus.
Please visit her official website at
www.lynsaysands.net
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