Highland Vampire. Hannah HowellЧитать онлайн книгу.

      CONTENTS

      KISS OF THE VAMPIRE

       by Hannah Howell

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      HIS ETERNAL BRIDE

       by Adrienne Basso

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      TO TAME THE BEAST

       by Deborah Raleigh

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      KISS OF THE VAMPIRE

      Hannah Howell

      One

      Scotland—Spring, 1478

      The sun would set in a few hours, Jankyn thought as he crouched inside the narrow, deeply set stone arrow slot. When the sun was at this particular spot in the sky, he could safely view the gardens below. He grimaced as he thought of the teasing he would have to endure if it was discovered that he had a liking for flowers. A MacNachton liking flowers? Jankyn could almost see his kinsmen rolling on the floor, weak from hilarity.

      It was rather pathetic, he mused, even as he took a deep breath, savoring the scent of primroses, bluebells, and musk roses. A garden flourished in the sun. He lived in the shadows. Perhaps it was more envy than appreciation. There was a part of him that hungered for a chance to turn his face toward the sun, to revel in its warmth upon his skin. It would be the last pleasure he enjoyed if he was mad enough to try it, but there were times when he was sorely tempted.

      There was a soft rap upon his door and a woman called his name, but he ignored her. Something else that would both surprise and amuse his kinsmen. When he had first arrived at the king’s court, he had freely indulged his lusts with the women gathered here, but that game no longer interested him. They no longer interested him. He was weary of being the dark, mysterious lover the women could brag about to their friends. There was a danger lurking in such excess for it stirred not only curiosity, but jealousy. He was also simply tired of fleeting, empty passion, of bedding down with women who did not really care to know him well, or would run screaming from his embrace if they did.

      It was time to leave, but he could not give in to the urge to return to the comforting, shadowy depths of Cambrun. He had not yet found a suitable mate for his son David or finished his own work. Born of an Outsider, David could live a near-normal life, and Jankyn was determined to give him as rich a one as possible. There were also strong indications that it was here he would discover why he did not seem to be the pure-blooded MacNachton he had always thought he was.

      “Are ye sure she will come here?”

      Jankyn frowned down at the young man who had spoken, interrupting his peace and his thoughts. He recognized the elegantly dressed man as Sir Lachlan Armstrong, an impoverished young man with a small, poor holding. His companion was Thomas Oliphant, the youngest son of a laird with a lot of sons and little money. It was widely known that they would make any woman a poor husband. Jankyn tensed for there was something about them that made him think they were on the hunt, and he wondered which poor lass was their prey.

      “Aye, Tom, she will,” replied Lachlan. “I had Eleanor tell her the roses were in bloom. The lass loves flowers.”

      “Och, aye, she does that, but it doesnae mean she will come to have a peek at them now. Could be she willnae come until the morrow.”

      “Nay, ’twill be soon. Ere the sun sets. Eleanor told her that Old Rob, a mon weel kenned for his skill at foretelling the weather, had talked of a fierce storm coming, one that would be sure to damage the flowers. The lass willnae want to risk missing a chance to see them in full bloom.”

      “Clever.”

      It was and Jankyn had to wonder why Eleanor would help these fools. Since the two men could give her little save a rutting, he had to think Eleanor did not like the lass she was sending into this trap. There could be many reasons for that, but knowing Eleanor as he unfortunately did, Jankyn suspected the chosen victim was young and beautiful. Eleanor did not like it when some other woman drew men’s interest away from her. The intended prey must have arrived recently, during the last two weeks in which Jankyn had cut himself off from the intrigues of the court, both political and sexual. And dear Eleanor was one of the reasons for that self-imposed exile.

      “O’er by that rowan tree would be a good place to await her,” said Lachlan even as he strode toward it.

      “There is one wee problem with this plan,” said Thomas as he joined his friend. “Which one of us gets to have her?”

      “We will both have her, but the first to draw blood will be the one to wed her.”

      “Which will still leave one of us with an empty purse, little or no land, and the need of a weel-dowered wife.”

      “Nay, nay. This lass has enough for us to share a wee bit, just enough to make it easier to get that rich bride. Agreed?”