Highland Vampire. Hannah Howell

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      Careful not to jostle her, he pulled himself up into a seated position, resting against pillows someone had obviously plumped up behind him. Although she still looked very young, her features had lost the last of the childish softness she had still possessed at sixteen. Her thick, honey gold hair hung in tangled waves to pool around her slim hips upon the seat of the chair. There was a faint touch of gold to her beautiful skin. There was also a slight feline cast to her delicate, fine-boned features, except for the full, tempting shape of her lips. Even at sixteen her mouth had been one to turn a man’s thoughts lustful. Of course, right now, that tempting mouth was slightly open and emitting a faint snore. And that long, beautiful neck of hers was cocked at an awkward angle that could probably cause her a twinge or two when she woke up.

      Telling himself he was only doing it for her own good, to try to save her from a little discomfort, Jankyn nudged her foot with his until she started to wake up. When her eyes opened, the clouds of sleep that lingered there turned them a warm amber color. It made him think of how her eyes might look clouded with the heat of passion. It was a dangerous thought.

      “Ye have your feet upon my bed,” he said and relaxed a little when the softness in her eyes was rapidly replaced by a look of irritation.

      “I took my shoes off,” she said even as she put her feet on the floor and began to stretch, trying to rid her body of the various small aches caused by sleeping in a chair.

      Jankyn wondered how she could make such a simple act look so sensuous. “I thank ye for stopping me from killing those two fools, though they weel deserved it.”

      “Aye, they did, but twould have caused trouble, raised questions neither of us could afford to answer. And I thank ye for coming to my aid.” She frowned a little. “I am a wee bit surprised ye were so close at hand whilst the sun was still in the sky.”

      “I was in the window. Tis shelter enough late in the day. I simply leapt down when it became clear that ye were losing the battle.”

      Efrica looked at the window, recalled how far above the ground it was, and looked back at Jankyn. “A bit dangerous.”

      “Nay. The sun was a far greater threat. Tis why I was slow to interfere,” he admitted. “I had hoped ye could deal with it on your own.”

      “They were weel practiced in such games, I fear.” She scowled. “Mayhap I should have let ye rip their throats out. Now they can recover and repeat their crimes against women.”

      “Twill be a while ere Lachlan dares show his face. Those scratches ye marked him with will take time to heal.” Hating the lingering weakness that necessitated it, he asked, “Could ye bring me another tankard of my wine?”

      Efrica nodded and went to get him his drink. She silently cursed her keen sense of smell, for it made it impossible to ignore the fact that his wine was enriched with blood. His need for it was one of the reasons she fought her attraction to him so vigorously. She never ceased to be amazed that her sister Bridget, married to the laird of the MacNachtons, could be so happy in a place where the sun never cast its warmth or light and among a people who required such a gruesome sustenance. It was because Bridget loved her laird, of course. Efrica was determined not to fall into that trap, but her heart appeared reluctant to heed good sense.

      Jankyn’s hand shook slightly as he took hold of the tankard, and Efrica moved to help him. She put one arm around his broad shoulders and placed her other hand over his to steady it as he drank. Being so close to him had her heart pounding in her chest and her blood running hot. Telling herself it would be humiliating to suddenly pull away and flee the room, she silently prayed Jankyn could not sense her reaction and would finish his drink quickly.

      The drink rapidly revived Jankyn, but that made him all too aware of the slender, warm female so close at hand. As he sipped the last of his drink, he slowly inhaled her scent, an intoxicating blend of clean skin, woman, and a hint of lavender. He had been attracted to Efrica from the first moment he had set eyes on her, and that attraction was rapidly breaking every bond he had placed on it.

      Just one little kiss, he mused as he slipped his arm around her small waist. Just one little taste of what he had long wanted, but knew he could not have. And he would have to steal it, he thought, for she was already tensed to leave his side. He finished his drink, tossed the tankard aside, and tugged her down onto the bed beside him so swiftly, she had no time to flee.

      “What are ye doing?” she demanded, sternly telling herself to pull free yet discovering she was unable to heed that sensible command.

      “Should ye nay thank your gallant rescuer with something a wee bit warmer than words?” he asked.

      “I think that may be verra unwise.”

      “Ye are probably right.”

      Instead of releasing her, however, he wrapped his other arm around her and kissed her. Efrica’s resistance to the embrace lasted barely longer than a heartbeat. His lips were so enticingly soft and warm. Just one little kiss, she told herself. Just one little taste of what she had so often dreamt of. When he nudged at her lips with his tongue, she parted them, welcoming the deepening of the kiss. With but one stroke of his tongue, the heat of desire raged through her veins, burning away all common sense and resistance. A little voice in her head warned her that now she had been embraced by him, one kiss would never be enough, but she ignored it.

      It was not until he had shifted their bodies around on the bed until she was sprawled beneath him that Efrica regained a sense of the danger she was in. For one brief moment, she savored the feel of his lean, highly aroused body pressed against her. It was so tempting to take what he offered, what she wanted so badly, she ached with the need. She knew, however, that if she became his lover, it would bind her to him in ways she might never break free of. That thought gave her the strength to shake loose of desire’s tight grip, and scramble free of his embrace. As she stood by the side of the bed struggling to regain some sense of calm, she was happy to see that he was as flushed and breathless as she felt.

      “I am nay one of your ladies,” she said, pleased with the cool steadiness of her voice.

      “I have no ladies,” he said.

      “Ha! I have heard all about ye since coming here. Weel, I have no intention of joining your stable.”

      He inwardly cursed, all too aware of what was said about him and the women of the court. It annoyed him that he felt a sudden need to explain, even excuse, his earlier excesses. He was unwed and unpromised, had simply taken what was offered, as would any man. The look of something akin to disappointment in her eyes stung him nevertheless.

      “Gossip and rumor are nay fact.” He did not blame her for rolling her eyes over that pathetic response.

      When she realized she wanted him to tell her that what she had heard was all lies, that he had been as chaste as a monk, Efrica decided it was time to leave. “Ye should be careful about disdaining all I have heard,” she drawled, “oh great dark stallion.” She had to grin at the way he blushed, then scowled at her.

      “Now I am certain ye have heard naught but whispered lies. And just what are ye doing here?”

      “My cousin Barbara brought me. I am nearing twenty. Past time I get a husband.”

      The thought of another man touching Efrica, claiming her as his own, stirred a rage in Jankyn he fought hard to hide. “Barbara doesnae appear to be a verra good chaperone.”

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