Max smiled. “We keep Highland cattle. There’s as much cattle blood as you can drink around here.”

Cattle. She nodded. Not all that different from steak, right? Maybe cattle blood was the best choice.

“Okay, let’s do that.”

She glanced over and saw Carwyn smiling at her. Anne just patted her hand and settled back into the couch as Max left to get their drinks. She tried to relax, but soon sat up when she heard a car pulling into the drive. A woman’s raucous laughter rang out and Brigid heard a lower voice chime in after her. The smell of sweet human blood reached her nose and her fangs descended. In a split second, she had bolted for the door.

Carwyn grabbed her before she was halfway there.

“Ah, hold on now, love.”

She snarled at him. “Let me go!”

“Not going to do that. You’ll thank me later.” A flame flared along her neck, but Carwyn took a soft throw that lay across a nearby couch and gently draped it over her back, smothering the flames. He made soothing sounds and pulled her into his chest as the footsteps approached and Brigid continued to snarl. Her throat was on fire.

“…come in for a drink after that drive.”

“No!” Through the haze of bloodlust, she heard an American accent. “New vampire inside, Shane. Better keep away. In fact, just stay in the gamekeeper’s lodge until you leave. Don’t want to take any chances.”

Carwyn’s rumbling growl snapped Brigid out of her predatory stare, and Anne’s cool mist enveloped her, hissing against her skin.

The human spoke again. “You got it, Cath. I’ll see you later.”

“Have a nice night.”

A few moments later, a tall woman strode into the room, shaking off her overcoat and throwing it over the back of a chair. Her hair was cut in a curly bob, and black eyes danced in a pale face with a sprinkling of freckles. Her gaze swept the room, winking at Brigid who was still tangled in Carwyn’s arms.

Completely nonplussed by the smoldering vampire, Cathy said, “If it isn’t my favorite delusional father-in-law! How are you?”

Carwyn chuckled, and the familiar sound caused Brigid’s fangs to retract. She took a deep breath. Then another. “If it isn’t my favorite heathen.” He cautiously set her on her feet. “How are you, Cathy?”

“Still an atheist. You?”

He took a step back from Brigid. “Still a priest. Imagine that.”

“Damn, I keep hoping reason will find a way through your thick skull.”

Carwyn’s hand made small, soothing circles at the small of her back. “A thousand years, darling. I don’t think you’re going to change my mind now. This is Brigid.”

Words failed her. How was she supposed to greet this whirlwind of a woman who had burst through the door, completely unafraid of the snarling, fang-baring new vampire being wrestled down in her living room? She had always thought Carwyn was larger than life, but Cathy Mackenzie filled up the room with her voice alone. Brigid felt tiny and strangely shy.

“Hello, Brigid! Welcome to the highlands. Nice to have another foreigner around.”

She took a breath and held her hand out, trying hard not to wince at the snap of energy when their skin touched. The other fire vampire only grinned; Brigid could see the fangs hanging sharp in her mouth. “You’re a live one, aren’t you?”

Brigid cleared her throat. “I suppose so.”

“Oh, the accent!” she said. “I do love that accent. Bet it’s driving Deirdre absolutely bat-shit nuts that you’re here, isn’t it?”

Brigid lifted an eyebrow. She was willing to give this woman the benefit of the doubt, but she wouldn’t stand for anyone insulting Deirdre, whatever her feelings for her sire might have been.

Cathy seemed to sense that a line had been crossed, so she backed away and went to greet Anne while Carwyn stood beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. Why did he do that?

And why the hell did she find it so soothing?

“Aye, my bonny lass has come back to me.” Brigid heard Max lay on the Scottish brogue dramatically thick when he walked into the room. Cathy immediately abandoned Anne and ran to him. He set the tray of drinks down and caught her in his arms. They started kissing in front of the room.

Quite enthusiastically.

Anne cleared her throat and glanced away. “Newlyweds,” she said, by way of explanation.

“Ah,” Brigid mumbled. “How long have they been married?”

“Fifty years or so,” Carwyn muttered, angling her back toward the fire. “Cathy works in Edinburgh, so they spend weeks apart at times.”

“They, uh, seem to be making up for that.”

She saw Tavish walk into the room and throw down his book on the end table in disgust. “Oh, for God’s sakes. Get a room.”

Max muttered between kisses. “Shut up, Tavish.”

Tavish didn’t say another word, but he picked up an apple from an arrangement in the entryway and tossed it at Cathy’s head. Max caught it with one hand while Cathy stepped away from Max and snapped her fingers. Brigid jumped back when a fireball burst into her hand.

“Oh my God!”

Cathy hurled it at her brother-in-law, who quickly grabbed one of the shields hanging on the wall and deflected the whirling flames into the hearth where they were swallowed up in the crackling fire.

Brigid’s mouth gaped open. What the hell had she stepped into?

Max winked at her and grinned. “Seventeenth-century armor. Not just for decoration in our home.”