MIDNIGHT CONQUEST: Book 1 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles (7 page)

Kehr succeeded in tripping Ian, who went sprawling across the stone floor. Everyone rushed to his aid, Kehr at the head of the crowd, apologizing. Ian sat stunned for the moment and Davina allowed herself a secret smile. Gaining his composure, Ian wiped the blood from his bottom lip and looked at her. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled briefly—just long enough for her to notice—before his face turned somber. Ian dropped his gaze as though heartsick. Glancing at Davina, he rose from the floor and dusted his breeches. The slight gesture caused her brother and father to turn toward Davina. Before she knew Ian’s ploy, Davina had been caught gloating at her husband’s accident, exactly as Ian wanted.

Heat climbed into her cheeks. Parlan glared at her, causing the rest of the group to turn toward her. Excusing herself from the scene, Davina left the Great Hall into the corridor past the parlor, through the kitchen and outside toward the stables, choking down her sobs. Dusk settled around the castle, casting everything in hues of gray. Halos of amber light ringed the torches set about the grounds, lighting at least a guiding path. She stomped into the stables and kicked an empty bucket on the ground. The commotion awakened the kittens and they stirred.

“How can they believe his performance?” she hissed and folded her arms under her breasts, clenching her fists and pacing. After the first incident, Davina had gone to her father explaining Ian’s plan, and he believed her. But when Ian was brought before Munro, Parlan and Davina for accountability, Ian claimed Davina misunderstood him and apologized for being a fool with his words, not saying things correctly. At first, even she believed she was hearing him wrong, until he cornered her another time. There was no mistaking anything. After a time, her father grew to believe Davina was trying to discredit Ian while he was trying so hard to change. These failures didn’t discourage her from continuing to try, though.

Three kittens emerged from under the crate at the back of Fife’s work area. Davina stopped and stared, waiting. Where were the other kittens? She crouched down upon her heels, peering into the dimness. One more kitten crawled out, mewing. They grew so much in the last six weeks…but only in size. Their shrinking numbers is what concerned Davina. When she had first seen the kittens, she counted eight. A week later—the week after Ian’s punishment and supervision began—there were seven. She sloughed off the difference of numbers as a miscount. When the second kitten went missing the following week, she surmised the poor thing might have been snatched by an owl or other predator.
Other predator, indeed
. Fife told her about the third kitten gone missing two weeks later, saying Ian brought it to him near heartbroken. Its head had been crushed…by a horse, Fife guessed. Davina tried to tell Fife of her suspicions, but with fatherly counsel he told her she was being too hard on Master Ian and needed to learn to forgive him for his past transgressions, and how Ian confided in Fife about ways to try and be a better husband.

Too many kittens had gone missing for her not to be suspicious in spite of what Fife said. She crouched, waiting for the fifth kitten to emerge from the crate. Still nothing. Taking a lantern off the wall, she brought the light into the growing darkness of the falling night, into Fife’s work area. The crate lay empty. Four kittens roamed about her. Four out of the eight. Where was the fifth?

She replaced the lantern and paced two circuits around the area in front of the stalls before she entered the gate to her own horse Heather. Grabbing her saddle, she heaved it atop Heather’s back.

“Going somewhere?” Ian’s voice caused her to jump, and icicles danced up her spine.

She clamped her lips shut and instead focused on pulling the leather straps tight, straining to hear his actions over the incessant pounding of her heart. Shuffling to the other side of her horse, her foot fell upon something soft, and she jumped back with a yelp, thinking she’d stepped on a rat. Nothing moved. With the toe of her boot, she touched the straw where she had stepped. Still no stirring, so she knelt down, extended a trembling hand, and lifted the straw away. The fifth kitten.

“Awww,” Ian said, sounding forlorn, but when she saw him peeking over the stall, he had a smile on lips. “Not another one?” She marveled in terror at how he could make his voice sound loving or concerned when he held such a menacing grin on his face. The hair on the back of her neck bristled.

“Why?” she whimpered. “Why are you doing this?”

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Gullible to the last,” he whispered and winked.

She grabbed a rag off the nail at the back of the stall and scooped up the cold body. She sobbed as she showed him the kitten. “Do you have so much anger inside you that you must take it out on innocent animals since you cannot take it out on me?”

“Davina, what are you saying?” Ian stepped back toward the opening of the stables. “Are you saying that I—?” Ian shook his head, standing just outside the stable entrance; his eyes filled with sorrow and reflected the flickering light of the torch, adding to his demonic aura. “I know I have done you wrong, but have I not done everything I can to prove to you I have changed? What more—?”

“There, there, Master Ian,” Fife said, coming into the stables. “What has you so upset, lad?”

“Is that what you think of me, Davina?” Ian said, grief-stricken.

“Fife! Look! Another kitten!” She sobbed uncontrollably, dreading how this would turn out. “‘Tis as I told you! He saw me find the kitten and held no remorse!”

Fife stared at her open-mouthed, and then glanced at Ian with regret. Davina ran past them, around to the back of the stables, and put the kitten down on a small pile of straw. Crying, she washed the blood from her hands and splashed cool water from the rain barrel on her face to try and clear her head. Resting her hands on the edge of the barrel, she panted, trying to think of how she would handle this.
This cannot be happening! Why is this happening?

At the edge of the rain barrel, a crusted, brown mark resembled a partial hand print. A bloody handprint.

Ian grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her about so quickly, her head spun. Holding her against the back wall of the stable, he said loud enough for Fife to hear, in a voice dripping with affection so sincere, she almost believed his words…if not for the ominous mask on his face, “You are just as delicate as those kittens. I would hate to see something like that happen to you. It would crush me.” He squeezed her shoulders harder on the word “crush” for emphasis.

Through the shutters to her left, above the rain barrel, retreating footsteps faded and Ian waited for Fife to be out of earshot.

“Gullible to the last, Davina,” he taunted. “I will have them accepting me into your family, and
you
will be the one under restrictions. They may even think you mad after I finish my work.”

Her world closing in around her, she shoved him away and scrambled toward the castle. Bursting through the kitchen entrance, she bolted down the hall to the parlor and stopped short at the door. Her family was seated around the room, their eyes wide and questioning. Fife stood to her left beside her father, crushing his hat in his nervous hands, guilt on his face.

“Fife, what have you told them?” Davina laid her cold fingertips against her wet, flushed cheeks.

Her father crossed his arms. “What is this about Ian killing kittens?”

She rushed to grab her father’s forearm. “Da, he’s taking his anger out on these poor defenseless animals instead of me.” She couldn’t control her sobbing as she pleaded.

“Now, Mistress Davina,” Fife admonished gently. “Master Ian said he could no more hurt those kittens than he could you. You just misunderstood what he said.”

“Thank you for defending me, Fife, but methinks ‘tis hopeless to try anymore.” Ian stood at the door, sorrow pulling down the corners of his mouth. “Methinks she’s right, Parlan. We should dissolve this union. She’ll never forgive me, no matter how much I try to change.”

“Why are you doing this!” she screeched in Ian’s face.

“Now you want me? What is your game, Davina?” Ian threw his hands up in frustration and shuffled to the center of the room to plead his case, leaving Davina back at the doorway.

“Nay, that’s not what I mean to say and you know this! Why are you trying to make my family see me as mad?”

Ian dropped his jaw as if he’d been slapped. Closing his mouth and then his eyes, he nodded. “Parlan, I have tried.” He regarded her father with such sorrow, her mother sobbed. “I love your daughter, and I hoped we could make this work, but ‘tis plain to see she won’t forgive me.” Turning to his father Munro, he said, “I will be in my chamber packing my trunk. ‘Tis best we leave on the morrow.” Facing Davina, he stepped forward with his back to the room and gave her that private, evil smile his voice never betrayed. “Farewell, Davina,” he whispered, and departed. Munro followed, scowling at her on his way out.

Davina stood stunned at the accusatory glares from her family. Parlan sighed and marched to the hearth, turning his back to her. Lilias sobbed into the kerchief she pulled from her sleeve. Kehr stepped forward, his eyebrows turned down. “Davina, ‘tis time to put away your Gypsy dream lover. Not one man, never mind you Ian, will ever be able to live up to this fantasy. ‘Tis time you grew up.”

Parlan turned around with fluid expressions that alternated between confusion and anger. Davina almost choked on the lump forming in her throat. Even her beloved Kehr betrayed her, thought her mad! Running from the room, she went back out to the stables. Pulling Heather from her stall, Davina mounted her horse and bolted through the grounds and out the front gate, away from the madness. Her cheeks, wet with tears, grew cold as the wind whipped past and tangled her hair. At a clearing where she frequently found solitude, she pulled on Heather’s reins and jumped from her horse, falling to the ground covered with the leaves of last fall, damp from the evening dew.

Kneeling in the middle of the moonlit forest, Davina sobbed into the leaves. How right her Gypsy dream lover had been! The doom Broderick predicted for her life as a young girl entrenched her. But why was this happening? She only wanted to continue the happy life she had prior to meeting Ian. Why did God wed her to this madman who thrilled at manipulation and control? She only wanted a family and someone to love. Pushing up, she settled her trembling hands upon her belly. Losing her first child grieved her deeply, but in the end, she reasoned, wasn’t not having the child for the best? Davina couldn’t bear to see her own flesh and blood forced to submit to the same fate as she, to this frenzy she endured. Curling her knees to her chest, she pulled her legs close, hugging the baby nestled inside her now. She missed two monthly courses—one before Ian’s
punishment
and this last month—thus had become with child before she and Ian had separate chambers. What would happen then to this baby if they perceived her a lunatic? Rocking back and forth, her forehead against her knees, she let the river of tears flow.

The crook of her arm touched the dagger in her boot. She held her breath, frozen by an idea that touched her mind. Hiking up the hem of her gown, she pulled the weapon from her boot and sat on her heels. Her heart warred over this decision.
I
am
mad. But what other choice do I have?
She squeezed her hands around the hilt of her dagger, the tip of the blade poised over her heart. White-knuckled and trembling, her hands throbbed painfully. Whether she gripped the knife out of fear or for strength was unclear. A soft breeze touched her tear-stained cheeks, cooling her flesh in the evening air. She didn’t want to do this—to take her own life and the life of her unborn child—but how could she face the madness awaiting them both? How could she face the betrayal of her family? Or was this just a coward’s excuse?

She gritted out a cry of frustration and drove the blade into the soft, damp earth, collapsing to the ground. Her body wracked with sobs, and the smell of dirt mixed with the stale, decaying leaves, like a grave. “So close,” she whimpered. “So close to being a widow. So close to freedom.” Over one decision made by the King, all her hopes shattered like icicles against stone. Even this member of her family—her royal cousin—betrayed her; the apparition of James seemed to be sent just for her, just to torment her existence. Davina sobbed deeper as hopelessness engulfed her.

Heather stamped her hooves and tossed her head. Davina darted her gaze around the darkened forest in search of the source of the animal’s agitation. Her stomach lurched in fear.

Oh, God! Have they come for me?
She paled. Ian might have come after her…alone.

Cold silence answered her, save for the slight rustle of the trees in the wind. She searched the terrain but saw nothing. After a moment more of silence, she heaved a tentative sigh and relief bathed her. No one came with horses to seize and take her back. Davina rose to her feet, wiping her nose, and crept toward her mount, still darting her eyes around. “There, there,” she soothed, her hand outstretched.

Before she could lay her fingers on Heather’s flank, an unseen force knocked the wind from her lungs, and she thumped her head on the ground. Davina’s face pushed into the leaves, head throbbing, and someone crushed her body. Unable to breathe or think, she struggled to force air back into her lungs as panic set in.