Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires) by Suz deMello Read Free Book Online Page A

She tried to use it to swab her hands, but it slipped out of her grasp and was lost.
    She twisted her head to look at it, a tiny dot of grubby white receding into darkness, and fresh pain stabbed from the welt on her head. Even so, she thought that perhaps she could see another horse behind her, another horse, a bigger horse, with a body draped over it.
    A body dressed in black. A body that lacked a head.
    Malcolm.
    Bile rose in her throat and she retched, the vomit splashing onto the ground beneath, but some getting into her hair. Ugh.
    She spat, and a grating laugh sounded from nearby.
    “Our little lady is awake,” a female voice crooned.
    “Good,” said a man. “We’ll have the other first whilst fattening this one up.”
    A sharp finger jabbed Alice in the rump and she squawked.
    More laughter. “The Bean’ll be glad of fresh meat,” the woman said.
    Alice’s heart froze. “Sawney Bean? But he’s but a legend, and long dead.”
    The laughter increased, booming and banging in her ears. She doubled her efforts to loosen the ropes around her hands, but they’d been pulled tight.
    Despite the stink of vomit in her nostrils along with the healthier aroma of horse, she thought she detected a fresher scent. The sea.
    Of course. Sawney Bean and his family had lived in a sea cave, south of the area through which they’d been traveling.
    Mother of mercy. She’d been captured by cannibals.
    * * * * *
     
    Riding at the head of the small Kilburn procession, Dugald had noted that Alice lagged behind as the afternoon wore on, and sent Malcolm after her to ensure her safety. But as the gloaming had deepened and neither had appeared, he’d grown alarmed. He gestured, and Murdo detached himself from the rest of the group.
    “Lead the others to Kilbirnie while I look for Malcolm and Mistress Alice,” Dugald told Murdo. “Archie will ride with me.”
    As they headed back along the route they’d traveled, Dugald became increasingly disquieted. He hadn’t smelled Alice’s distinctive fragrance for longer than he liked, and when he did it was distorted by blood. Blood and the aromas of strangers.
    Attackers.
    Three had lost blood at a trail junction. He dismounted to track the scents and to fully understand what had happened. Archie did the same, leading the horses a distance away. As always, the well-trained Kilburn mounts stood still when their reins were dropped to the ground.
    Dugald closed his eyes the better to focus on the aromas. He sensed when Archie came to stand beside him, but didnae stir.
    The strongest scent was that of Malcolm. Malcolm had lost blood, a lot of it. A slight aroma of a horse’s blood—Mary?—and underlying it all was Alice’s enticing fragrance, tinctured with her fear.
    He sucked in a deep breath, trying vainly to still the thunder of his pulse. His woman had been attacked.
    A few more breaths and he’d calmed his temper enough to focus on the matter at hand.
    “Malcolm,” he said, opening his eyes.
    Archie lifted his head into the still, fog-laden air and sniffed. “Aye.”
    “This way.” Dugald strode along the trail in the direction from which they’d come then stopped, kneeled. A blotch of blood, and droplets leading to the right. Straightening, he followed them to find a ditch, thick with a sickening stench.
    He kneeled again the better to examine it. ’Twas damp with only an inch or two of water in the bottom. Sticks, rocks, rotting autumn leaves.
    And Malcolm’s head.
    Archie exhaled, a sharp and angry explosion of breath.
    “Aye,” Dugald said heavily. Pain wrapped around his heart, settled in his soul. ’Twasn’t the first time a man under his command had died, but he mourned the event as though it were, always hoping ’twould be the last. A vain hope, he knew.
    He tugged the swatch of Kilburn plaidie off his shoulders and wrapped his comrade’s head in it before tying the bundle into a tree. ’Twas uncertain storage, but probably the head would be safe from