Chapter Thirteen

Castle Mackenzie, Scotland

October 2010

“Are they always like this?” Brigid leaned toward him and Carwyn tried to ignore the subtle, smoky scent she exuded. They had been in Scotland for three weeks and were listening to yet another shouting match between Cathy and Tavish refereed by a very unconcerned Max.

Carwyn cleared his throat. “The Mackenzie clan do not believe in holding their tongue. About anything.”

“It’s probably one of the reasons Cathy and Max spend so much time in Edinburgh,” Anne said from her perch by the fire. She was knitting a sweater while Madoc lay at her feet. “Tavish is such a hermit.”

She frowned at him. “Are you sure this is the best place for me to hide out and learn how not to kill people?”

Anne barked out a laugh. “Brigid, I couldn’t think of a better place if I imagined it.”

“What does that mean?”

Brigid looked up at Carwyn, but he only shrugged and tried to think about something other than how close her leg was to his as they sat on the couch. “Don’t ask me.”

Which didn’t mean he didn’t know exactly what Anne was talking about. If there was anyone who needed to say what was on her mind more, it was Brigid. As acerbic as her wit could be, when it came to personal things, she was as defensive as ever. And with her immortal powers and the protection of amnis, her mind was completely impenetrable, even to Anne.

“Brigid, why do you think Tavish and Cathy fight? Does it make you uncomfortable?” Anne asked.

“Oh no,” Brigid said. Her eyes flicked toward Carwyn before she looked back at Anne. “We’re not doing that here, Anne.”

“Why not?”

Brigid’s eyes flickered to his once more before she exchanged some sort of wordless conversation with the other woman. The water vampire finally shrugged and muttered, “Fine. It’ll all come out at some point.”

“Anne…” Brigid’s voice was a low growl that made him bite his cheek.

Damn if every growl, every peek of fang, every glare from her inhuman eyes didn’t put him on edge.

He’d tried, damn it. Carwyn had tried to push back the attraction he’d recognized so many months before, but once the trauma of Brigid’s turning had passed, once they had established a more normal pace of life in the Highlands, it came roaring back, stronger than ever. She was immortal now. Every part of her called out to him. Her crackling energy. Her penetrating stare. Her sharp wit. The rugged heart of her, so strong despite all she had been through.

And layered beneath all of that, a vulnerability that she’d shown to precious few. So few that he counted himself lucky to have ever caught a glimpse. His feelings of pure, male attraction were quickly turning into something far more dangerous.

Brigid and Anne had slipped into Irish, which they often did when they were speaking of things the young vampire found uncomfortable.

“I think you’re delaying dealing with things that—”

“I’m not talking about this right now.”

“Why not? No one hides their feelings in this home, Brigid. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here. The courtesy you were raised with has many fine qualities. I know you were always taught to be careful with your words and mind your tongue, but in this case, while we are here—”

“I’m not talking about it right now!”

Brigid stood up and stormed from the room. Madoc loped after her. A few moments later, Carwyn heard the front door slam and then the dog’s howl as it set off across the grounds. Max and Cathy had sent away the human who traveled with them, so there were no mortals around for miles. She was safe and the pervasive mist that filled the hills would keep her from losing control of her fire.

“You need to stop needling her, Anne.”

“You need to leave.”

He started. “What?”

“You, Carwyn. Need. To. Leave.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Anne let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you really not know?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He picked up a book and opened it.

Anne frowned and narrowed her eyes. “You’re almost as interesting a case study as she is. Seemingly involved, and yet maintaining such a state of aloof separation. I suppose after a thousand years, the humor provides a kind of shield that—”

“Anne, I am not a patient. Stop it.”

She broke into a grin. “Think. You know why you need to leave. Brigid’s not here. It’s just me. You can admit what you’re feeling. I won’t say a word.”

Well, shit. He squirmed a little and took another drink of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the way you look at her, Carwyn. I’m talking about her reaction to it, whether she realizes it or not.”

His eyes darted up. “You think she realizes it?”

“Maybe not consciously, but Brigid avoids talking about things she thinks will upset you when you’re around.”

He held his breath for a moment before he let it out with a sigh. “The… feelings. They’re not her problem. They’re mine.”

“What makes you think they’re a problem at all? I’m not saying that.”

“But you think I should leave her?” He set down the book he’d been pretending to read. “I told her I’d help her. I told her…” to hold on to me. He rubbed the red scar on his chest where her small hand had branded him.