MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE: Book 2 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (7 page)

Broderick threw back his head and his rich laughter filled the room. Davina’s face gleamed from her bright smile.

James cocked an eyebrow and placed his hands upon his hips.

“Though I have certain advantages you are about to find out, I have impressed even myself in allowing you to wed my daughter, lad.” Broderick bowed before a confused James Knightly. “Again, you have exceeded my expectations. Please sit down. You will need the support.” He stepped before his wife and took her in hand. Broderick kissed her cheek and ushered her to the entrance of the parlor. “Would you please have Cailin bring in some of our strongest wine for her betrothed?”

Davina curtsied and attempted to leave, but Broderick pulled her into his arms for a hungry kiss that caught James off-guard and gawking. Davina’s face blushed deep crimson and she smiled apologetically to James before smacking her husband’s shoulder. She scampered down the hall and Broderick closed the door with a grin.

James cleared his throat and sat. Returning to the matter at hand, he wondered about the
support
Broderick had referred to.
What the hell is this man about?

Broderick chuckled. “If you would but give me a moment, I will explain.”

His breath caught short. MacDougal’s statement almost sounded as if he heard James speak instead of think. Or had he said his thoughts aloud and not realized it?
Coincidental,
he thought and settled in to listen.

“Nay, not coincidental at all, young Knightly.” Broderick leveled a piercing gaze, that mischief storming in his eyes. “I would prefer you had some stronger libation at your disposal before I deliver my news, though, so be patient young buck.”

Not giving James much time to be stunned, Cailin stomped into the room with two chalices in one hand and a lead pitcher in the other. Broderick held up his hand, stopping his daughter in her determined tracks. “Lass, don’t make me reprimand you in front your future husband,” her father’s voice was soft and bordering deadly. “Your sour mood will spoil our best vintage.”

Her simmering blue eyes, still glassy with unshed tears, wandered to the unoccupied side of the room, a calming breath pushing the delightful curve of her bosom to swell deliciously over her neckline. Irritation seemed to emanate from her pores and James teetered between sympathy and desire. With a forced smile plastered to her full lips, she slammed a cup before James, poured the rich, burgundy liquid to the rim, and set the pitcher and extra chalice before him.
There’s the hellion from the alley!

All the while, she afforded him a generous view of her cleavage and he had to restrain from adjusting his suddenly tightening breeches.

“Will there be anything else, Master James?” Her husky voice oozed annoyance.

Broderick chuckled. “Thank you, Cailin.”

She cast her father another irritated frown from under her brow and sauntered from the room.

Aye, lass, you can ride my aching—
James darted his eyes to a disapproving father.

Broderick scowled. “Very wise of you to stop that train of thought, lad.”

James guzzled the smooth wine and poured himself another cup.

MacDougal laughed.

“Though I am not sure I want to hear the answer, how is it you know what I am thinking? Do my actions betray me so much?”

Broderick’s eyes squinted with warning. “Your gaze did not leave her neckline from the moment she walked through the door, so aye…you are very obvious.” He sat before James across the table. “Truly, I am glad you find Cailin attractive. Now that both of you have reached the proper age…” He frowned and sighed. “I personally feel such attraction makes the marriage bed that much sweeter, outside of the other qualities you pointed out when you asked for this union.” He studied the wood grain on the table surface, a pondering expression creasing his brow. “How I know your thoughts, however, has nothing to do with your actions.” Broderick’s eyes locked with James’s. “I adore you as a son, so I impart to you a great secret that will explain many things about this family, about your experiences with us to date.” His brows drew together and his green eyes pierced James with such intensity, he held his breath. “Understand that the safety of my family comes first, so you guard this secret with your life…or I will end it.”

The unwavering steel in his emerald gaze lent no doubt MacDougal meant what he said and James gulped another mouthful of wine. “Aye, sir, you have my word.”

“I’m confident I do, James.” Broderick leaned forward. “I am of a race of immortals called Vamsyrians.”

James raised his brows. “Immortals? Meaning you cannot die?”

“’Tis more than just long life, but aye, ’tis part of immortality and explains why I haven’t aged since you departed to attend your schooling.”

He nodded and studied Broderick’s face.
And here I thought he had aged well.

Broderick chortled. “’Tis a benefit, to be sure.”

“And this explains why you know what I’m thinking? Can you actually hear my thoughts?”

“As if you were speaking them aloud. However, as a courtesy to my family and those close to us, I have made a…limited vow of silence, for lack of a better phrase. I can make the effort not to hear thoughts, although emotions tend to linger around some people like a scent.” He chuckled. “With others, it’s more like an odor.”

The corner of James’s mouth turned up in appreciation at the jest, but the gravity of the issue weighed down his humor. “What other benefits or facets does immortality hold for you?” He should be protesting the very idea, but the fact that Broderick could hear the thoughts in his mind allowed his curiosity to reign.

“I have the strength of, say, twenty men or more. I heal incredibly fast and can heal others.”

“Heal?”

Broderick nodded and grabbed the spare cup Cailin had brought in and set it before him. Grabbing a steel dagger from his belt, he dragged the blade across his palm, slicing it open. The blood from the cut hardly had the chance to drip into the chalice before the wound closed …as if the blade had never touched his skin.

James’s jaw went slack and he grabbed Broderick’s hand to examine his palm. Neither a scar nor a mark gave any evidence of what James had witnessed. Broderick seized James’s hand and made a small incision in the fleshy part of his palm. Hissing, James tried to pull away, but Broderick tipped the cup, dripping his blood onto the cut…which also vanished as if it had never been. No pain. No marks. After wiping the blood clean with the cloth on the table, he released James’s hand.

“’Tis not possible,” James whispered as he smoothed his thumb over his skin, back and forth as if that would conjure the cut again or reveal some trace of it. “Fascinating!”

Another chortle from Broderick drew James’s eyes. MacDougal raised an eyebrow and sneered. “I thought you might find this information of interest with that inquisitive mind of yours.”

James nodded and grinned, relenting to the appeal of the situation. “I must ask…how old
are
you?”

“I was born the fourth day in April of the fourteen-hundred-and-fiftieth year of our Lord.”

James frowned in concentration, then went slack-jawed once again. “’Tis one-and-eighty years you are?”

Broderick gave a solemn nod.

“Are Cailin and Davina also immortal?”

Broderick shook his head. “Nay, they are mortal as you are. And, in truth, Cailin is not my daughter. Davina was a widow and with child when her husband died. Cailin was but eight months old when I met them.”

“I never did understand what Davina meant when she referred to Cailin touching your face when she first met you. I thought that an odd thing to say of one’s daughter.” James’s mind swam in a whirl of confusion and wonder, only to have a sobering thought jar him back to the situation at hand. “Why are you imparting such information to me and how does it relate to my future?”

“’Tis a smart lad you are. Quick to nail the point.” Broderick’s appreciative grin faded and he rose to pace the length of the room. “Wedding my daughter Cailin will mean protecting her.”

“Of course, sir.”

Broderick stopped and regarded James. “From another Vamsyrian.”

James nodded and sipped his wine, waiting for Broderick to proceed.

“His name is Angus Campbell.” MacDougal resumed pacing. “Our clans have been at war since my youth. I shall not go into the details of our history at this moment, except to stress this.” Standing before James, Broderick leveled his crystal-green gaze at him, a blending of sorrow and anger in his immortal eyes. “For reasons I have yet to truly understand, Angus’s way to me is through those I love.”

James raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What exactly do I need to do?”

“You need to try to kill me.”

He downed the last of his wine and smiled. “My pleasure.”

* * * * *

Cailin paced the length of her bedchamber, fists clenched so hard her short nails pressed into her palms. With her face flushed and the backs of her eyes stinging from tears, the world closing in around her.

“That darn temper of yours, lass,” Margeret admonished with kindness softening her voice.

“Aye, Maggie! He is infuriating, though! Why can I not maintain my composure in front of him?”

“If yer encounter with him in the alley is any indication of what kind of man he is, and based on his brash behavior in the parlor…” Margeret shook her head and rubbed her chin. “The lad will be a handful, no doubt.”

“Oh heavens, the alley!” She groaned and plopped onto the settee at the foot of her bed with a grunt. Inhaling deep, she closed her eyes in an effort to calm her thumping heart. Even with her eyes closed, tears slipped down her cheeks. “He won’t marry me, Maggie,” she whispered.

Margeret rushed to Cailin’s side and wrapped a warm arm around her. “Nay, lass! Doncha be sayin’ such things.”

She would ruin her chances of marriage if she continued to allow her emotions to reign free. “What man wants a rebellious woman for a wife?” Cailin wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. “I never should have learned to fight.”

“What choice did ye have, sweetness?” Margeret kissed the top of Cailin’s head. “Angus Campbell forced the hand of yer entire family, he did.”

“’Tis what James was sent off to school to learn, though,” Cailin argued. “’Tis not my place to learn such things
.” If I hadn’t learned to use a blade, I never would have—
Cailin pushed those thoughts from her mind.

“Oh, lassie,” Margeret cooed. “This is the life ye have and ’tis no worth in frettin’ about it now.” She pulled back and dabbed at Cailin’s tears with the kerchief she pulled from her sleeve. “Yer a bonnie lass and he’s a grand fool if he fails to see yer generous heart and giving spirit. Bide a wee bit on yer temper, Cailin.”

Cailin nodded. “Thank you, Maggie.” She stared at the flames in the hearth through her tears, grateful for Margeret’s consoling efforts, which allowed her to grow indifferent. Aye, indifference…a good place to be. It quieted her soul enough to find rest, to crawl into the cave of her spirit and recover to rise another day.

Chapter Three

A grunt rushed from James’s throat as his back slammed to the mat, Broderick standing over him with a smile and outstretched hand. “Do you understand now?” He helped James to his feet. “Since I can hear your thoughts, I can anticipate your moves, so regardless of how skilled you are at the sword or knife, your approach has nothing to do with speed or ability.”

Rotating his shoulder to work through the pain, James frowned. Broderick had taken him into an armor and weapons room of sorts, similar to his training grounds at
Fechtschulen
, complete with padded mats and sawdust-filled figures tied to wooden posts. He had applied everything he learned becoming a Grandmaster at swordplay and, at Broderick’s encouragement, came at him with all he had. Broderick had bested him no matter what he did. “Then how can I possibly win any advantage over Campbell if he knows my every move?”

“
That
is the trick, lad.” Broderick picked up the steel blades James had dropped on the ground. “Part of your defense is to have your strategy well planned and so rehearsed as to be second nature, therefore there is no thinking—only instinct and reflex.” Stepping forward, Broderick sheathed James’s daggers in his belt and adjusted them. “Arrange thus for easy reach.” He began circling James. “The second part of your defense is to take a non-aggressive approach. Do not attack.”

James scrunched his brows and planted his fists upon his hips.

“Since you know his immortal speed will always best you, do not advance. Maintain a passive demeanor and reason with him.”

“Is Campbell a reasonable enemy?”

“When he chooses to be, but certainly not with me.” Broderick stopped before James with his arms crossed—a most commanding figure. “The point is if you remain passive, it is very likely he will have no reason to approach you with aggression or speed. He will be the cat to your mouse.” He stalked around James again. “Circling you and—” James started at the sudden presence of MacDougal’s voice close to his ear. “Stepping in to keep you off guard.”

Heart pounding, James inhaled deep to soothe his nerves. “I understand your meaning.”