Highland Vampire (16 page)

She saw a pair of deer darting through the thick brush, heard a flock of birds rustling and chirping in the trees, then spotted several rabbits racing through the small clearing. She hoped they were heading toward one of her snares. It had been many months since she had eaten meat, and her body hungered for the sustenance she had so blithely taken for granted in the past.

The men of the McGinnis Clan were skilled hunters, taking pride in ensuring that none of their people ever went hungry. But Maev's hunger was no longer something that concerned these men. She was an outcast.

Not that she much cared. Living among the clan in her childhood home would not alleviate the pain in her heart, would not eliminate the despair that clung to her spirit like a dense fog.

It seemed more and more the only thing that ever broke through Maev's constant mist of pain was worry for her mother. It had been a harsh winter, and Brenda had suffered through most of it with fever and chills. As spring arrived, she remained weak, and Maev knew the longer she was ill, the harder it would be for her mother to regain her health, especially without the hearty food needed to build her strength.

Deciding it would be worth the effort to check the snares, Maev carefully descended from the tower. The steep, winding wooden steps were worn and unsteady, despite her weekly attempts to repair them. Since the sun had dipped beyond the high, narrow, stone window slits at the top of the tower, the single room where she and Brenda lived was cast in gloomy shadows.

Maev groped her way carefully toward the glowing embers of the hearth. A crude square table, a low stool, and a rickety three-legged chair with a broken back were the only pieces of furniture in the room, but Maev knew she would make a great deal of noise if she smashed into any of them. And that noise would startle and disturb her mother, who had not risen from her bed for over a week.

"I'm going to check the traps," Maev whispered as she knelt beside the pallet that Brenda rested upon. She casually touched her mother's forehead, distressed to find it warm and feverish.

Brenda heaved a high-pitched sigh. Her lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly opened, as though she were fighting to waken. "I worry for yer safety, Maev. 'Tis too late for ye to go outside in those woods. Best wait until morning."

"I willna be gone long," Maev assured her mother. "I'm hoping to find a plump rabbit so I can make a hearty stew for our dinner."

A shadow crossed Brenda's brow. Maev was instantly angry with herself for mentioning the possibility of a good meal, not wanting her mother to be disappointed. Since arriving in this desolate place, Maev's appetite had been sparse, but Brenda often spoke of warm, crusty bread; rich, thick stews; and other gastric delicacies that they would never again have the opportunity to eat. For the past few years the women had existed by consuming anything edible they could forage from the surrounding woods and the occasional small animals Maev managed to trap.

It was a meager and miserly existence.

Maev banked the fire, added several pieces of precious wood to the small blaze, tucked the only other thin blanket they owned tightly around her mother, then gathered the crude bow and arrows she had crafted and quickly left. She walked several feet beyond the tower and paused. Shading her eyes against the glare of the setting sun, Maev peered into the horizon, trying to decide which way to go. There was only enough light to check a few of her traps.

Taking a gamble, Maev headed west, hoping the light lasted long enough for her to reach those snares she had set farthest away. As she walked, she stopped to gather some of the tender green shoots that were pushing through the thick, mossy soil, knowing they would in all likelihood be the only food for dinner that night.

As she feared, the traps were empty. Maev closed her eyes in despair. Brenda needed the nourishment that only fresh meat could provide. Each day she seemed weaker, her strength ebbing, her spirit fading. As she watched her mother's suffering, Maev was acutely aware that she was responsible for Brenda's condition.

If not for Maev, Brenda would be home where she belonged, in a comfortable, cozy cottage, her belly filled with warm food. She would have female friendship and male protection and the spiritual guidance of a priest. Instead, she was marooned in the middle of a desolate, harsh forest with a daughter broken in spirit as her only companion.

This woman who had taught her all the important lessons of a good life—how to love and laugh, to be loyal and kind, how to hold her head high—deserved better.

And what of ye? Dinna ye deserve better
? Maev pushed the thought away, burying it deep inside her mind. She deserved nothing. Callum was gone and so was her desire to participate in life. The laird and his clan had thought to punish her by making her an outcast, but Maev truly did not care.

Without Callum there was no meaning, no purpose, no joy, no dreams, no future. It was as if she had fallen into a deep black hole. The inner light of her soul had simply drained out of her, and she had neither the strength nor the desire to try to regain it.

If not for her mother, she would have allowed this ultimate despair to claim her mortal flesh long ago, but Brenda had sacrificed everything to save her and Maev would not repay such selfless love with cowardly cruelty.

Knowing Brenda would worry if she was gone too long, Maev turned and started back. As she drew closer, a strange silence enveloped the small clearing where the tower stood amid the thick woods. Maev had become accustomed to the usual sounds of nature that now surrounded her, but something was different. The air had changed. She glanced up at the sky, saw no twinkling stars, and realized that thick clouds had formed, threatening rain.

Hoping to avoid a drenching, she quickened her pace. She was rounding the east end of the tower when she saw it. A cloth sack, tied at the top with a heavy rope, lay propped against the entrance door.

Startled, Maev froze. Her first instinct was to turn and hide. Whoever had left the parcel could still be in the area. Perhaps they were watching her at this very moment.

Suspiciously she cast her eyes about, but saw no one. A clap of thunder struck, and lightning cut a gash through the dark sky. Maev hurried toward the door. The first raindrops struck her cheek as she bent to examine the package. Absently she brushed them away, then continued struggling with the knot. Finally she untied it. With trembling hands, she opened the sack.

"Oh, my God!"

Rain pelted the back of Maev's head, the water falling in droplets from her hair to trickle down her spine. But she noticed neither the cold nor the wet—her eyes were captivated by the contents of the cloth bag.

An entire haunch of venison! Maev was amazed. There was enough meat to feed her mother decent meals for weeks! But delight turned to suspicion and then fear. Who could have left this much-needed food? And what did they want for it?

"Is anyone there?" Maev called out, then once again cast her eyes toward the forest, but the darkness was complete. Whoever had left the meat was not visible and in all probability long gone. At least she hoped they had departed.

Clutching her bounty tightly to her chest, she entered the tower and bolted the door behind her.

He stood in the darkness, watching her lift the heavy cloth sack, hoping she would be pleased when she viewed its contents.

"Oh, my God!"

Her voice was raw and rough, as if she did not use it much, but it still held traces of familiarity. The sound recalled memories of her tenderness and love, her sweetness and affection. It made his heart ache.

"Is anyone there?"

She turned toward his hiding place, and he craned his neck forward, hoping to see her face. He knew the darkness would shield him from her view, while his keen vision would enable him to drink in the sight of her.

She was thinner, her face drawn, her cheeks hollow, yet her delicate, refined features were in evidence. Even at this distance he could feel the pull of her almond-shaped eyes. They beckoned his heart, but he could not answer the call.

He never thought he would see her again, never believed it would be possible to hear her voice, to delight in the delicate sway of her hips as she walked.
Maev
. The past exploded into the present, and pain shot through him. Intense, dark pain that should have lessened with time but seemed more acute than ever. Pain that ripped away the layers of protection he'd carefully built between himself and the nightmare world he now inhabited. Pain that had been buried deep within him for three long years.

Maev. My beautiful bride. I have finally found you.

Brenda dozed fitfully as Maev cooked their dinner. Her fever had worsened, and Maev hoped waking to the aroma of the roasting meat would bolster her mother's spirits. Eventually the tantalizing smells did rouse Brenda, yet while the older woman praised her daughter's culinary efforts, she was able to swallow but a few bites of the juicy meat.

Even more worrisome to Maev was the realization that her mother lacked the strength to ask how she had procured such bounty. It was yet another indication of Brenda's worsening condition.

Since there was no salt to preserve the venison, Maev made a large pot of stew using whatever meager food supplies they had in the sparsely stocked larder. She left the pot bubbling gently over the dwindling fire, hoping a cup of rich, hot broth would tempt Brenda's appetite in the morning.

Her cooking chores, coupled with her concern for her mother, left Maev little time to dwell on the identity of their unknown benefactor. Yet later that night, as she curled herself into a tight ball and huddled into her lumpy pallet fashioned from dried grass, Maev could not help but wonder if the mysterious stranger would return.

A few hours later, Maev awoke to the sound of her own cries and whimpers as the nightmarish vision of Callum's lifeless face staring up at her filled her being. She jerked upright from her pallet, the taste of fear sour in her mouth. Her breathing hitched. Damp with sweat, she pushed off her blanket and sat listening to the racing of her heart. Brenda snored gently on the pallet beside her, unaware of her daughter's pain.

The shaking slowly subsided. Maev had never before dreamt of him. In fact, during her waking hours she could barely recall her beloved's handsome face, and she preferred it that way. There was only sadness associated with Callum's memory and more pain than she was able to endure.

Restless and edgy, Maev left her bed. She climbed the tower steps into the cool, star-filled night, breathing deeply. She looked up at the moon and shivered, wishing she had brought her blanket. It was peaceful here, and she intended to stay until the dawn broke through the darkness.

A sound drew her attention to the opposite side of the tower. Maev tilted her head and studied the large shape that filled the shadows, waiting for it to disappear.

But it did not. Instead, it moved closer. Oddly, she felt no fear, for a storm of hunger swirled around her as the shadow stepped into the moonlight and revealed itself.

"Callum," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. She believed she could no longer recall his features, but she realized she had been deluding herself. She knew him now, even though he was but an illusion. "First I dreamt of ye and now ye appear to me as a vision. Have I finally lost my wits?"

Lucifer's horns
! Callum had not intended for her to see him. He had crept inside the fortress and watched her sleep, and when her restless dreams woke her, he had slipped from the room and climbed the tower, hoping when she fell back to sleep, he would have a chance to gaze upon her beauty once again before the dawn broke.

He had come here full of rage and grief, drawn by a need older than time to be near the woman he had loved and lost. He had planned to watch her from afar, but when she appeared on the tower, less than a few feet from him, the opportunity had been irresistible, even though he knew that nothing but trouble would come of it.

She thought him a ghost. Perhaps that was better than her knowing what an evil, decadent creature he had become. For if she ever learned the truth, she would fear and despise him. As he despised himself.

He glanced over the side of the high stone tower and judged the distance to the ground. It was a long drop, yet he knew he could land without causing himself injury. He lifted his leg, preparing to leap over the side, but then her voice pierced his mind.

"I thought it would be unbearably painful to have ye once again in my heart, to see ye in my mind, but it is not." Her tone was reflective and emotional, the sadness echoing the feelings lingering deeply inside him. "Perhaps I have been wrong in deliberately shutting ye out. Refusing to remember how much I loved ye, how much ye made my life complete."

Though he tried, Callum could not hold back the rush of emotion her words brought to his long-bruised heart. To hear that she still loved him, still felt a bond with him, was a far greater gift than he had dared to hope to discover.

Slowly he lowered his leg. Maev looked at him intently, then swallowed hard. Moving himself closer, Callum reached out and caught her hand. Her gaze, wide and nervous, remained pinned to his. Slowly, gently, he lifted her hand to hold it against the side of his face, craving her touch in a way he could not define.

"Ye're solid," she gasped, pulling her hand away. "And cold. I thought ghosts were spirits who lacked substance and form."

He shook his head, fearing he had frightened her. But the jolt of his reaction to her warm flesh stunned him; the driving need to leap upon her, rip off her thin chemise, and feast upon her naked flesh was a powerful temptation.

But he resisted.

"I am not a ghost," he replied hoarsely.

She choked out a strange, nervous sound and splayed her hand over her chest as if she were trying to calm her heart. "Now I can hear yer voice. Though it sounds different than I remember. 'Tis deeper, huskier."

What could he tell her? His vocal cords had been damaged the night he was attacked, the night he was converted to an immortal creature. "Are ye frightened of me?"