MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE: Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (6 page)

Please come at once to discuss the matters concerning your future.

—Broderick MacDougal

He replaced the paper and paced. Though Davina had prepared him earlier today for their meeting this eve, the wording in the note had him wonder if something was amiss. Had Cailin convinced her parents to dissolve the union? Had his little skirmish in the alley with his betrothed cause them second thoughts?
How was I to know who she was?
James wiped his face and grumbled.

The door swung open. “Greetings Lady Dav—” He stopped himself. “My pardons to you. I thought you were the lady of the manor.”

The woman of similar build and color to Lady Davina chuckled. “Aye, yer not the first to make that mistake, laddie.”

Cailin trailed in after the older woman, a tight grin on her face and a tray with a pitcher and mug in her hands. “Master James, I’d like you to meet my handmaid, Margeret.”

James nodded. “Greetings Margeret. Greetings Cailin.”

Margeret stood in the doorway, beaming proudly at Cailin as she set the tray on the center table. Cailin stood by, her eyes locked to James’s. Margeret cleared her throat and Cailin gasped.

“Some refreshments of small beer, Master James?” she offered and blushed.

He crossed his arms, sizing up this docile and formal woman…such a contrast to the dagger-toting hellion in the alleyway. “I thank you very kindly, Cailin.” He reached for the pitcher, but Margeret cleared her throat…quite loudly.

Cailin gasped again and shooed his hands away. “Allow me, Master James,” she twittered and poured the common drink from the earthen vessel into the mug before pushing the tray toward him.

“Something amiss, my ladies?”
James eyed them both with suspicion.

Cailin and Margeret both frowned and exchanged glances. “Naught is amiss, lad,” Margeret assured him. “What troubles ye?”

This did not bode well. “Nothing, save for the unusual behavior coming from you both.” James peered into the mug. “Have you poisoned my drink, I wonder?”

Cailin covered her mouth, laughing. “Nay, James,” she said through her chortles and peeked at Margeret’s disapproving scowl. Gaining her composure, Cailin clasped her hands behind her back and resumed her dutiful posture. “’Tis our own home brew and fine for the likes of a common drink.”

He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at Margeret. “Is it now?”

The women exchanged glances again before nodding.

Cailin frowned. “’Tis obvious something does bothers you, Master James.”

He remained standing with his arms crossed. “Aye,
Mistress
Cailin. Care to explain the sudden change in disposition?”

Her lips parted and she glimpsed over her shoulder at Margeret, who shrugged. “Come again?”

“I’m uncertain why you feel the need to assert the appearance of a dutiful servant. ’Tis unseemly of you.”

“Dutiful ser—” Her eyebrows and full lips leveled in a straight line and she clenched her fists before stomping to him. In one swift movement, she dumped the contents of his mug over his head and slammed it to the table. “Enjoy your libations.”

“Cailin MacDougal!” Margeret huffed after Cailin’s retreating figure.

The two women left James to stew in the weak beer dripping down his face and into the collar of his linen shirt. Obviously, Margeret was in charge of
schooling
Cailin in the matters of manners and maintaining a household. At her age, Cailin should be well versed enough to handle such tasks. But why did Margeret seemed so strict and untrusting of Cailin’s actions? Furthermore, why did Cailin feel the need to be someone she was not? He’d find out soon enough, to be sure. He plopped onto the bench and licked the brew dribbling over his lips. “’Tis actually quite tasty,” he mused with a frown.

Broderick MacDougal entered, his wife Davina trailing behind with a small scroll of parchment in her hand. She closed the door as Broderick advanced, cocking an eyebrow at James, who scrambled to his feet. Davina gasped and scuttled toward him, pushing past her husband and snatching the cloth from the tray Cailin had brought in. Fussing over him, she wiped his face and shoulders. “Cailin’s foul temper, no doubt?”

He stilled Davina’s hands. “I’m not so sure I didn’t deserve her wrath. I believe I insulted her by calling her a…dutiful servant.” His face grew warm and Davina smirked, retreating to a cushioned chair in the corner of the room.

James stared a moment at the man before him. Almost a decade had passed since he’d last seen Broderick and it seemed as if no time had gone by.
The years have been kind
. Davina, in all her grace and exotic beauty, appeared as he had expected—hair streaked with gray, attractive age lines around her eyes and mouth, which bespoke of years of laughter and smiles. Gaining his composure, James stepped forward in greeting. “Well met, Lord and Lady MacDougal.”

“What folly, lad! Why the formality?” His future father-in-law grasped him into a fierce hug and the two slapped each other’s backs in their embrace. Stepping back, Broderick assessed the front of his shirt, now wet with the beer. Humor twisted MacDougal’s mouth into a grin. “I take full responsibility for spoiling Cailin and apologize in advance for what you will be inheriting in the union.” Waving to the bench, the large and imposing man encouraged James to sit, yet Broderick remained standing, hands on his hips. “However, ’tis nothing she wilna do for you if you win her heart, lad.” He winked. “Forgive me for the late call, but I’m leaving my family on the morrow for a short journey, and we have much about which to speak.” As if in afterthought, Broderick poured James a fresh mug of beer.

“Thank you, sir, and think nothing of the late hour. Your family has been a blessing to me and I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for your generosity.”

Broderick nodded thoughtfully. Crossing his arms, he narrowed assessing eyes on James. “’Tis a long time you’ve been away, lad. You’ve had the opportunity to see a world most men of our status can only dream of, and did very well for yourself for someone of your age. Five-and-twenty is it?”

James nodded.

“Congratulations are in order for your attainment of Grandmaster at the
Fechtschullen
—a title, I understand, that is granted to few and awarded by the Emperor himself?”

James dipped his head and an uncharacteristic lump formed in his throat at the overwhelming pride on MacDougal’s face. He swallowed and coughed into his fist to remove the uncomfortable sensation. “I could do no less, sir, since you were the one to provide for my schooling. I’m glad my efforts pleased you.”

“Pleased me?” Broderick shook his head and chuckled, a deep rumble that moved through the room like thunder. “They surpassed my expectations, lad.”

James didn’t trust himself to do anything more than nod and smile.

“Having conquered the world and returned to your humble beginnings, how do you feel about the path chosen for your life?”

The image of Cailin’s fire-blue eyes and heaving bosom came to mind and the corner of his mouth turned up in appreciation. However, the frown returned when he recalled the docile lass who poured his beer, and how her mood flipped as easily as the mug she dumped over his head. He said truthfully, “Though I am uncertain about a few facets of my life, I am eager to embark upon such a path.”

MacDougal raised a fiery brow and narrowed his eyes once more, myriad emotions seeming to cross his countenance as he searched James’s face. James speculated a mixture of uncertainty or disapproval, even frightening sparks of anger in his emerald eyes, but Broderick’s squint soon melted into a roguish grin that spread his mouth wide. That rumbling chuckle thundered another round about the room. “Glad to hear it, lad. You still have ambitions to captain a ship?”

James nodded.

“
Very
glad to hear that!” Broderick took the rolled parchment presented by his wife and handed it to James. “Open it.”

He broke the wax seal and unrolled the stiff paper, contemplating the curves and swirls of the words scratched onto the document.

Broderick chuckled. “’Twould be a waste of a good ship if you had changed your mind.”

Excitement swelled in James’s chest. “These are the papers for my appointment as captain!”

“Aye. She’s still at the shipyard waiting to be christened and launched. We thought to do so at the betrothal celebration. What say you?”

Again, James did not trust himself to speak. His head bobbed and he smiled his agreement.

“Wonderful.” Broderick nodded, then he and Davina shuffled to a dark-wood cabinet against the far wall. She opened the doors carved with delicate scroll work and extracted a crafted mahogany box with a fine luster finish. He withdrew a sword that arrested the breath in James’s chest. She placed the box onto the center table—away from the spilled beer—and retreated a few steps while Broderick faced James. “A captain and Grandmaster swordsman is incomplete without sterling blades at his side. We had these weapons commissioned for you as soon as we received your letter of appointment.” Broderick presented the sword, horizontal.

James reached forward with tentative fingers, his lips parted in awe. “Broderick…Lady Davina… You shouldn’t have—”

“Hush, lad,” his gentle tone encouraged. “You have more than earned it.” James still hesitated and Broderick leaned in, lowering his voice. “You do me the honor as I will never have a son of my own but, as you know, you have been so to me.”

James searched Broderick’s face and found a compassion he once ached to see from his own father, Alistair. His father be damned. James didn’t want anything from him. Broderick was more of a parent to him than Alistair could ever hope to be. MacDougal’s brow creased with sadness, prompting James to smile in an effort to lighten the tension.

“Aye, Broderick…Lady Davina. Thank you.” He bowed to each in turn. With a deep breath, he grasped the sword in his right hand, the scabbard in his left, unsheathing the weapon. The narrow blade swirled with light-and-dark folded patterns along the polished edge. Fading from the swirling metal patterns and to the center of the blade, gleamed a thick layer of shining metal. James swallowed in an effort to find his voice. “Is this actually a
Wootz
blade?” he breathed in awe.

Broderick’s eyebrows rose and he glanced at Davina’s surprised expression before nodding. “I am impressed you know about Wootz steel.”

“We had heard about these swords at
Fechtschulen
—blades stronger and sharper than any steel known to man. I even saw such a blade cut a piece of silk dropped onto its edge and would not have believed such a thing had I not witnessed it myself.” James’s eyes worshiped the weapon. “And now I
own
one?” He studied the shining metal plated along the blade. “Is that silver forged across the surface?”

Broderick crossed his arms and grinned. “Aye.” He winked knowingly at his wife, who grinned with pride.

The weight of the weapon settled comfortably in James’s palm, the grip molding to his hand as if it were crafted with him in mind. Intricate Celtic knots and images etched the silver surface closer to the hilt.

James remembered to breathe.

He gawked at the thumbnail-sized sapphire in the lion-claw setting in the pommel. “A man could get used to carrying a blade like this,” he whispered, near forgetting he wasn’t alone. Snapping out of his love-induced trance, he smiled at MacDougal. “’Tis lighter than the swords I trained with.”

“Aye, that blade will slice through moonbeams.” Broderick laughed.

James stepped back and twirled the weapon through the open space, the blade whistling through the air. “I have no doubt about that, sir!”

Broderick opened the mahogany box and presented two stilettos—matching the sword’s craftsmanship and style. They were also forged of the swirling metal and silver plating.

A twinge of uncertainty pricked his heart and James replaced the sword in its sheath. Setting the fine weapon upon the table, he faced Broderick. “Sir, I do not mean to seem ungrateful, but would care to tell me what you’re asking of me?”

MacDougal raised an eyebrow. “This is the future you planned for yourself. You have achieved great things, James. I dote on those close to me and those who deserve it.”

Hrmm.
“You are also a man with purpose.”

Davina’s fingertips covered her suppressed smile. Broderick’s steel gaze locked with James for a long stretch of time before he swaggered to the table and pushed the open mahogany box aside. “I see you find it troublesome accepting gifts.”

Instead of the disappointment James expected on MacDougal’s face, mischief brewed in his emerald eyes.

So, he is testing me.
James crossed his arms, rising to the challenge. “I have not had the benefit of being around here for nigh on a decade, growing up instead away from my homeland and countrymen; supported by your generosity, of course. The Holy Roman Empire is excellent training ground for a young man coming into his own, especially at one of the best
Fechtschullen
in the Kingdom of Germany. As a result, I am no stranger to death…or taking the life of a man.” He paced, arms still crossed, pushing his guilt aside. “I come home to find the woman I am promised to living in a fortress that rivals the king’s and she is well-versed in hand-to-hand combat, with tailor-made sheaths and dueling knives…of silver-plated Wootz blades, no less.” He picked one of the stilettos out of the finely-crafted box, twirling the impressive dagger in his fingers. “And now I am gifted with equally brilliant weapons.” Placing the knife back into its velvet-cushioned home, he faced his future father-in-law. “I am in debt to you for treating me as a son, supporting my tutoring, for the lessons life has taught me, and for the way you continue to bless me with gifts as well as the hand of your beautiful daughter and her handsome dowry—none of which is deserving of my station. You say you leave on the morrow and this conversation could not wait. I know for a fact you do not journey away from home without your family.” He shrugged. “I would venture to say you are asking me to watch over them while you are gone, an honor I humbly accept.” He bowed to Davina. “But…it appears to me they do not need my protection. The real question I have for you, Broderick, is what am I protecting them
from
that I would need silver-plated blades?”
How is that for your test, old man?