MIDNIGHT CONQUEST: Book 1 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (37 page)

“Remember, do not leave until day breaks.” Broderick shook Nicabar’s hand and turned to head in the direction of his cave. Biding didn’t fare well with him, but bide he must. He couldn’t do anything until the next evening. This was one time he was grateful for the lethargy of his daytime slumber. Otherwise it would be a sleepless time for him. As Broderick slipped into sleep, an unearthly cry echoed across the forest. Broderick uttered a silent prayer for Clyde Samuels. Better the fire of the sun to take him than to die at the hands of the Vamsyrian Council.

* * * * *

Amice groaned from the cold in her aged joints, jolting as their horse trudged through the ever-rising snow. Nicabar rode with her, holding her in front of him. She clutched Veronique’s shawl in her hand, prayers of protection fluttering over her lips for her granddaughter.

“It is not much farther,” Nicabar informed her. He had gone off with a searching party as Broderick instructed, and they found tracks, almost covered in snow, leading away from the camp and heading toward the main road out of the village. Following those tracks led to evidence of a struggle, with Veronique’s shawl and belongings partially buried in the snow. He brought those back with him when he came to get Amice. Amice had to see for herself. She had a gift for touching things and seeing images, among other talents. The stronger the emotions, the stronger the images. She saw nothing from Veronique’s belongings. They must have separated from her before Angus made off with her, if that’s what happened.

“Here, Amice!” Nicabar urged the horse forward over to the spot.

The snow covered a lot of the tracks, taking away the sharp edges of the footprints, but they were deep enough to tell the story. Indeed, there seemed a struggle, and yet no footprints seemed to leave the spot. “Help me down, Nicabar,” she rasped. When he set her upon the ground, Amice squatted in the snow, placing her palm in the center of the struggle. She closed her eyes and quieted, ignoring the cold and wind. As if out of the smoky mist, a vision of Veronique, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, stared back at Amice. Blood, fangs, and the menacing smile of Angus Campbell.

A whimper of distress seeped out of Amice’s mouth. “
Mon dieu!
He has her! You must find her, Nicabar. Do as Broderick has asked. Find his lair and slay him as he sleeps.” Hope died upon her words, though. They may have the advantage of the daylight hours, but Angus was no fool, and her tea leaves were rarely ever wrong. He could be anywhere in the surrounding land, miles from their location. Nicabar helped Amice back upon the horse and turned in the direction they came from. “Back to the camp,” she whispered and cold tears slipped down her cheeks.

* * * * *

Cailin jumped up and down on Davina’s lap, and she grunted and groaned at her daughter’s weight, still a little weak after the sickness. “Oh, ‘tis enough, Cailin.” She laid her daughter down on the bed. Davina covered her eyes with Cailin’s feet, feeling her little toes against her forehead, pulled Cailin’s feet away and blew a quick gust of air on her baby’s face. Cailin blinked and laughter tittered out of her mouth. She repeated the game, her child laughing harder at each round.

Cailin’s playful nature stimulated the memories of seeing her daughter respond so openly to Broderick. A spark of hope flickered in Davina’s heart that the dreams she harbored for nine years would become the reality Amice predicted.

You still have many questions that remain unanswered,
the voice of reason reminded her.

Davina puffed another breath of air at Cailin’s face, pushing down the rising doubt.
He said he would tell me everything once he finished his task,
she argued and clung to the images of those heated moments in his arms, aching for more of their lovemaking, wanting desperately to believe he did indeed care for her as much as he said he did. She clung to the sweet assurance in his eyes and the love he confessed.
He is not Ian, who was filled with broken promises and lies…and always brought pain.

But what of the silver glow in Broderick’s eyes? ‘Tis unnatural.

A single tear ran down her cheek and soaked into the folds of her skirt.

The chamber door opened and Rosselyn inched her way into the room, her eyes wide and a deep furrow on her brow. “Rosselyn?” Davina rose from the bed. “What is it?”

Her friend closed the door behind her and faced Davina, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, tears forming in her eyes. Her mouth opened once, then twice, as if to say something.

Davina stepped forward and took Rosselyn by the hands. “Come, sit and speak with me. You have been wanting to tell me something for too long.” She led Rosselyn to the settee at the foot of her bed, glancing at Cailin, who lay on the comforter playing with her toes. Brushing a lock of Rosselyn’s chestnut hair aside, Davina smiled encouragingly. “All is well, my friend. I’ve ears to hear you.”

Rosselyn closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks, and swallowed, nodding. “I’ve kept silent for too long on this, Davina.” Opening her eyes, the words poured out of her mouth in a rush. “I only found out shortly after Lord Parlan died. I was told not to say anything, and it has been eating me alive inside since then. We thought we would be thrown out of the household if the truth was known. My mother believed all these years she would be thrown out, and now she has shared this burden with me, but if I do not say anything—”

“Rosselyn, whatever you have to say, you will not be thrown out of our household. You are family. We love you. Why would you think that would happen? Say what is on your heart.”

Rosselyn’s eyes searched Davina’s, and she eventually nodded. “Davina…we are sisters.”

“Of course, Rosselyn, that’s how I’ve always felt about you. Go on.”

“Nay, Davina, we truly are sisters.” She breathed deep. “We share the same father.”

Davina sat numb for a moment, unable to qualify Rosselyn’s words. A warm flush came to her cheeks when she realized what Rosselyn implied. “How do you mean we share the same father? How—”

“Lord Parlan…” Rosselyn swallowed. “Parlan lay with my mother, Davina, and she became with child. No one knew but Parlan and my mother.”

Davina rose and turned her back on Rosselyn, her face hot and her eyes stinging with tears.

“When my mother told her betrothed what happened, he abandoned her and left the village. Your mother has always thought I was the daughter of the man who left, and my mother let her believe that out of fear.”

Davina clenched her fists and faced Rosselyn. “Why would you say such a thing! My father would never have done that! What is this about? Why are you telling me this?”

“Amice told me I was holding a secret, and she said it would be worse if I did not come forth and tell you the truth. She said lives would be lost if I kept quiet! I do not know how that could happen, but I believe in Amice’s gifts, and if lives would be lost for keeping silent, then I would gladly risk my security in my home to save those lives. Davina, this is true, I swear to you. I’ve always been honest with you, and keeping this to myself was torturing me!”

The chamber door opened and Myrna stepped into the room, fear in her eyes. “What are you saying, child!” She dashed to Rosselyn’s side, covering her mouth. “What lies are you telling Mistress Davina!”

“Mother, stop! We can keep this from Davina no more.”

Davina stood and watched Myrna scolding her daughter with such fear and panic, her actions spoke more than her words. “‘Tis true. You deny this, but I can see the truth in your eyes.” Davina fought back her tears. “How could you do this to my family?”

Myrna turned pleading eyes toward Davina. “Nay, Davina. I—” Myrna wept into her hands. “Rosselyn, why did you tell her?”

Davina’s mind swirled with all the information, at the guilt on Rosselyn’s face, at the sorrow Myrna poured out. Rosselyn tried to reach out to Davina, but she backed away. “Nay, I cannot…” The love she held for these two women—women she knew and shared her home with since her birth—clashed with her anger. Davina and Rosselyn were sisters, and she wanted to be joyful over that revelation, but at what price? The betrayal of Myrna, of her father, both of them toward her mother? They lived a lie all these years. Before Davina said anything she might regret, she scooped Cailin from the bed, wrapped a blanket around her daughter and grabbed her cloak. “I need some time,” she mumbled and left Myrna and Rosselyn behind, heading for the back entrance through the empty kitchen. Tears coursing down her face, Davina held Cailin close under her cloak as they stepped into the cold. Davina knew it would be best to bring Cailin with her, not wanting to arouse suspicion in her mother, as she didn’t feel comfortable leaving her baby with Rosselyn and Myrna. Not right now. She just needed a few moments in the fresh air to clear her mind. She would normally jump on her horse to escape, but not with Cailin.
Just a short walk along the property.
She wouldn’t go far.

Davina ducked behind the stables and snuck inside the hidden passage through the back wall. Somehow this exit gave her a separation from the castle and its members within, as well as not attracting any attention going out the front gate. Closing the wall behind her, she stepped out and faced the bordering forest. Tall and strong, the trees offered refuge from the anger, the betrayal, the confusion, and gave her some measure of strength. She stepped forward and ambled amongst the trees, seeing the flakes of falling snow from the sky and the branches above. A forceful breeze kicked up and caused her to duck into the warmth of her cloak with Cailin until the pressing wind passed. Clods of snow fell from above, dropping around them.

She sighed and gazed back at the castle. From here she could make a better effort at being more objective. The pain of Myrna’s betrayal stabbed her gut. Still, the reality that her father had been a willing participant nagged at her conscience. She didn’t give Myrna time to explain, yet at that moment she didn’t want explanations. Anger and betrayal ruled her mind. Davina hated the idea, but it might also be possible that Myrna was
not
a willing participant, which cast her father in a very undesirable light. She shook her head. Her own experiences with her father, doing what he wanted for his own benefit in spite of the sacrifices others made, also tugged at her resolve. Forcing Davina to marry Ian to better the family situation—in spite of the pain he caused her even after her father knew the truth—did override his ability to dissolve the marriage when they had the chance. It crushed Davina to think he would take his position this far and have his way with Myrna.

Leaning against one of the trees, she closed her eyes and absorbed the sturdy energy emanating from the towering pine, her cheeks wet and cold from crying. Cailin’s hand touched her cheek and she opened her eyes to view her daughter. With an uncanny intelligence, her baby girl searched Davina’s face, almost as if offering her support, as if to ask what she could do. Davina kissed her daughter’s cheek and buried her face in her neck, holding her close and keeping her warm.

Davina gasped as a hand clutched her hair and forced her head up. Cailin wailed as Davina stared into the murderous glare of a man she thought she would never see again, his knifepoint pressed against her cheek.

“Surprised to see me, Davina?” Ian gritted over Cailin’s cries.

Davina’s mouth hung open as she struggled to maintain a grip on her daughter.

“You saved me a lot of trouble,” Ian said with that familiar menacing grin. “I’m very glad you decided to come out of your own accord, or I would have had to kill a few people to get to you.”

Davina couldn’t utter a word, so filled with terror at seeing Ian risen from the grave, her and her daughter’s lives in his hands. Cailin’s continuing cries echoed through the forest.

Chapter Thirteen

“Ian!” Rosselyn stood several feet away from them. “My God, what are you—?”

“Shut up!” Ian turned to face Rosselyn, using Davina and Cailin as a shield. Davina could feel the cold blade against her throat. Thankfully, she was able to get a better grip on Cailin, and did what she could to calm her by rubbing her back.

“Ian, please let them go!” Rosselyn stepped forward, her hands outreached.

He hugged Davina and Cailin closer, pressing the blade harder against Davina’s flesh, causing her to wince as the tip broke her skin. In a calm steel voice, Ian said, “You go back inside and tell Tammus to come out here, and we will discuss what I’m doing here and what I want. Do so quickly, or their blood will be on your hands.”

Rosselyn nodded and turned around without hesitation, sprinting back toward the castle and the front gate of the perimeter wall.

Ian pushed Davina toward the ground, and she made every effort to keep from dropping her daughter as she tripped forward into the snow. His eyes fell to Cailin, still crying, and a frown turned down the corners of his mouth. “I should have beaten her out of you, too,” Ian sneered, steam rising from his mouth in the cold air.