Vengeance: The Demon Hunters — Book 5 Page 2

  "Not strictly," she said under her breath. Then in her normal speaking voice, she added. "Witches do marry. Generally, to other witches, and only if the high priestess approves the match. Many witch marriages are arranged so that a good mix is created, yet no family might become too powerful."

  "I shall have to give that some thought." He smiled. He couldn't help himself. He was speaking of marriage, be it in general terms, with Abigail. The fact that she blushed so beautifully only made him happier.

  "Perhaps we should go have our dinner and rest. We will have a very long day tomorrow." Abigail walked at a clipped pace back to the inn and preceded him inside.

  Brice felt like he'd been gifted all the gold in England. She'd not once indicated the idea of marrying him was abhorrent to her. If she'd been against it, he had no doubt she would have said as much.

  In their room, they sat at the table already laid out with stew and bread. She spooned meat and vegetables into her bowl and his.

  "You never answered my question."

  Chewing, she looked up.

  "Why do you not belong to a coven?" Was it some great secret? Why was she evading the question?

  Sighing, she put down her spoon. "My family does not have magic. They are a normal family of good breeding. I am an…anomaly. That kind of thing is not favored in the world of witches or humans."

  CHAPTER 2

  Abigail kept wishing she didn't like Brice so much. He was kind and smart and spent much of his time paying attention to her. She'd assumed he wanted her for a mistress. In truth, since her family had dismissed her, the only men who had shown interest in her had been looking to place her in a small home where they would visit from time to time.

  Learning that Brice wanted more was oddly daunting. How could he possibly think to marry her and move her into his world? His brother was a marquis, for heaven's sake. The family might no longer use the title, but they were of noble blood like it or not. Even in her former life, she would have been beneath him. As a witch, she shouldn't even be in his company.

  Yet he’d sought her out at every opportunity, and heaven help her, she loved his attention.

  He put his fork aside and his eyes narrowed. "Where is your family?"

  "They have a small holding not far from London. My father is a gentleman." She focused on her stew just so she wouldn't have to see his pity.

  "And how did you find your way to Edinburgh?" The timbre of his voice forced her head up. His eyes blazed with anger. Perhaps he was mad at her father, or maybe it was all of society.

  She wouldn't like to have that rage directed at her. "When it became clear that my talents were not suitable with my family's lifestyle, Mother found a nurse in Glasgow who needed an assistant. I worked with her for several years but failed to keep my gifts a secret. The nurse asked me to go, and I caught a coach to Edinburgh and found work with a midwife. She was not so put off by my magic and liked that I could calm mothers even while they were in labor. I saved my money, and when she retired, I began healing. The more demons came into the world, the fewer people were put off by my magic. Eventually, I bought my cottage and have been quite happy in Edinburgh."

  He studied her. She'd left out quite a lot of information about the years between the safety of home and finding a life that suited her, but he seemed too overwrought to worry him with details.

  "At what age did you leave for Glasgow?" He was too shrewd to fool.

  Swallowing her memories, she made an effort to sound unaffected. "I was twelve when my family felt a new life might suit me better."

  His fist slammed down so hard on the wooden table that bowls jumped an inch, and a knife clattered to the floor. Brice stood, nearly toppling his chair. Slowly, he bent and picked up the flatware and put it back on the table before stalking to the other side of the small room. His shoulders were rigid with muscles bulging and drawing them up toward his ears. "Forgive me, Abigail, but I hope I never meet your father. I would be hard pressed to keep a civil tongue in my head."

  A giggle popped from her mouth before she could stop it. She covered her lips with her hand. "I have not seen him in almost fifteen years, so I believe you are quite safe from that possibility."

  Glaring at her, he said, "It's not funny."

  "No, but I survived and wouldn't wish my old life back." She pushed her bowl aside and turned in her chair.

  He knelt in front of her and gripped both her hands in his. "A man is charged with the care of his children. It is his sacred duty to see them safely to adulthood regardless of his likes or dislikes. My father told me that when I had made some very bad choices and had come home begging for forgiveness."

  Those almost golden eyes of his pierced through her like an arrow to the heart. "Your father must have been a very good man. I think my father did the best he could. He was ill-equipped to be saddled with a girl who floated the china from the table or her doll down the grand stairs. He had no notion of what I was and thought the devil had cursed me somehow. I think he blamed himself for what I was."

  "They should have gone to live with a narrow-minded nurse in Glasgow." Brice pressed his lips to her fingers where they lay in her lap then gently rubbed the backs of them with his thumbs. "I wish I had been there to protect you. I wish you would allow me that honor even now."

  "You wish to protect me?" Her heart pounded from the light kiss as well as the tenderness of his desires. Men demanded things from women regularly, but Brice asked for what he wanted, and she suspected it was more need than a want.

  "I would throw down my own life to keep you safe."

  She shook her head. "I would not like that at all. Besides, I am currently in a position to protect myself quite adequately under most circumstances."

  He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up a hand to stop him. "However, should an army of demons come for me, you have my permission to do all you can, short of giving your life, to protect us both. Do not be foolish, Brice. Whatever you feel for me, it isn't worth the loss of you."

  The idea of him sacrificing himself to keep her alive knotted in her gut. She'd no doubt he would die for her, and he was surely the first person in her life she could have said that about.

  His smile was sweet as he looked up from his knees. "I don't think I could go on should anything happen to you while in my care."

  It wouldn't do. She pulled her hands back from his touch and immediately missed the intimacy. "I am not in your care, Mr. Lambert. I am a grown and independent woman who needs no one to care for her. Besides, you may be a great warrior, but I can promise you I am a formidable witch. You see me as some weak thing that faints when the master is in sight, but that was a single incident after I had expended too much power protecting the manor."

  She would not be thought weak. She was more powerful than he knew, but he still saw her as someone to care for.

  Sitting back on his heels, he gaped at her. "Forgive me, Abigail. I didn't mean to imply that you are anything but a confident and strong woman and witch. I was speaking of my own need to protect those I care about. I wasn’t implying that you aren't capable of defeating any danger you face, including me."

  Closing her eyes didn't make her mortification go away. She knew he was still in front of her, staring, even if she couldn't see him.

  The floor creaked. Perhaps he'd risen. It wouldn't surprise her if he left the room to find someone less ungrateful to speak to.

  Opening her eyes, she meant to apologize, but he smiled at her from only a foot away. Taking her hands, he helped her to her feet, bringing her even closer. The heat of his body seeped through her day dress as he pulled her into his embrace. "I only wish to be near you. Please don't push me away. Not yet. Perhaps once you get to know me better, you will feel something for me as well. Do I ask too much? Tell me if I do."

  What could she say? In truth, she should remind him that they are from different worlds and have nothing in common. Someday this war would be over, and he'd wish himself not saddled with a witch who w
ould not be welcome in society. "You ask nothing, Brice. I should beg forgiveness for being so churlish."

  He cupped her cheek. "You are the kindest, sweetest person I've ever known. The past behavior of your family and others put me in a foul mood, and I said things I should have held inside."

  They stood so close that his lips were mere inches away from hers. Full and red, they were the kind of lips that were made for kissing. Not that she'd been kissed much, but a time or two. Even still, she'd never longed for someone to take her in their arms the way she did with Brice.

  Then, as if he'd heard her thoughts, he leaned in an inch. Just enough to hint at his desire to kiss her and still give her time to move back.

  She should pull away and never allow herself to be so close with him again, yet her body betrayed her and swayed closer.

  The lips she'd dreamed about pressed to hers both soft and strong. He nibbled her bottom lip and then gently sucked her top one between his. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and worried her earlobe between his teeth.

  Sensations shot between her legs and tightened her belly. Lord, his touch was more delectable than any food. She couldn't stop the satisfied moan that rose from her chest and echoed in her mouth before being captured by his kisses.

  When his tongue swept inside, she almost collapsed with the power of it. He gripped her tighter, and she clutched at his shoulders.

  "Brice." It came out on a breath.

  "Good sweet Abigail, you are a treasure." He pressed one more kiss to the tip of her nose and hugged her to him. His face was buried in her neck as his shaft pressed hard between them. His breath shuddered as he drew it in long. "I'm going to go outside for a few minutes if you would like to ready yourself for bed."

  She stiffened despite her need for him. He would make her his mistress as others had tried before, and she hadn't the willpower to say no to this man, the way she had denied others in the past.

  Taking one step back, he ran his hands up and down her arms and smiled warmly at her. "I will never treat you as anything other than the lady you are, Abigail. I wouldn't like for you to fear me."

  "I'm not afraid of you."

  She was more afraid of herself than of him. Never had she wanted to bed a man or be bedded by one. It was not against coven policies to take lovers. Many witches did just that, got with child and raised their children within the coven family. However, most witches had a coven they had been part of since birth. Generations of witches could be found in some groups.

  She was a lone witch and in no position to mother children on her own.

  Besides, when Brice left her, which he certainly would, she didn't know if she could survive it. Better to stay colleagues and safe from the dangers of passion.

  "I'm happy to hear it.” Brice nodded.

  "I could kill you with a few words. You can't harm me." At least that was true of physical pain. Emotionally, she was already his servant.

  Instead of being angry or fearful, he grinned. "I'm more concerned with you breaking my heart than my neck, Abigail. There is a level of confidence within me assuring me I'll not warrant your wrath."

  "Of course not. I only meant..." She didn't know how to back out of the web she'd woven.

  He ran his knuckles down the side of her face. "I know what you mean, dear one." As he stepped back, his smile was contagious. He scooped the bowls and remaining stew back on the tray and went to the door. "Lock it behind me. I don't want anyone disturbing you. I'll be back before dark."

  She opened the door for him. "When you return, Brice, no more questions this night, please."

  There was sorrow in his eyes, and she hated that she'd put it there, but he nodded. "As you wish."

  After locking the door behind him, she leaned back and knocked the back of her head against the wooden door. What a fool she was. How could she have been so careless as to allow him to develop feelings for her? It was a desire that could never be fulfilled, yet being in his arms brought her to life. Her magic hummed slightly brighter, and she longed for all of him.

  Before she got under the blanket, she unlocked the door for Brice. She would do well to feign sleep, but it was not her way to pretend anything.

  When he returned, a soft smile lit his eyes as he locked them in for the night. "I owe you an apology for my curiosity. Forgive me?"

  "There is nothing to forgive. Many people are curious when they learn of a witch." It was a silly attempt to lump him in with every other person who'd ever wanted to know where her power came from. But he'd not asked that. He'd wanted to know about her life before, and for some reason, she'd wanted to tell him.

  He took off his coat and hung it on the back of the chair, his eyes never leaving hers.

  When her cheeks heated, she rolled over so her back was to him while he undressed. The sound of clothing coming off set her on fire. What kind of magic did he have that made her want him so desperately? "How old were you when your family escaped France?"

  "I was a teenager." The blanket she'd left on the chair for him snapped as he spread it.

  "Was it frightening to leave home under such circumstances?" Knowing sleep would be long in coming, she hoped harmless conversation might lull her mind. But learning more about him might not be benign. Ignoring the inner warning, she longed to know more.

  As he settled and plumped the pillow she left him, his voice came from near the hearth. "We left our home in the middle of the night with only the valuable items we could carry. My mother's jewelry was the easiest currency. A pair of earrings bought us passage on a pirate boat, and my father guarded us in one small room until we'd crossed the channel and were safely in England."

  She turned. At the sight of his broad bare chest with a smattering of dark hair, her breath caught. The blanket covered his lower half, but with his left arm behind his head, his muscles bunched, making her think of how gently those powerful arms had held her. His right hand lay across the ripples of his abdomen.

  Unable to breathe at the sight of him, she closed her eyes, trying to gain composure. "But you did arrive safely." She braved another look at him.

  He stared back in the guttering candlelight from one remaining wick near her bed. "We did and were given sanctuary by the king. We carried enough to buy a small holding and lived quite well. Dorian and I trained to be soldiers against Napoleon but then discovered the demon invasion and chose to stay in England and fight to save our new country."

  It was almost painful to look at his beautiful body. She blew out the candle, leaving the room in only the moonglow coming in the window. It didn't help, but at least he couldn't see her flushed with desire for him. He couldn't know how she pulsed with need between her legs, and she was thankful for that.

  "How were you injured?"

  "Does healing not give you a vision of the wounding?" His voice had gone soft in the dark, and it was too intimate.

  He knew something of magic, and she wondered if he'd studied since they'd met or had he learned of her kind before.

  She drew in a breath, hoping it would settle her pounding heart. "I saw a malleus demon lift you, felt horrible pain, and then everything went black."

  The memory of his scalding pain shook her, but she kept pity from her voice.

  "Interesting." The blanket rustled on the floor. As he rolled to face her, on his side with his head perched on his hand, the blanket slid down his hip, revealing no hint of breeches. "You're not wrong. I was heaved onto a scalding pike held by another demon. I passed out from the pain and was rescued by the other hunters in my squad. It was a month before I could walk, and as you saw when first we met, I retained the limp from the incident. It was painful to overexert, so I became an instructor."

  "And from what I was told, you were a very fine teacher. The students all loved and respected you at the school." The floor looked hard and miserable.

  He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling, the moon glowed from his chest like the Goddess had touched him.

  The Goddess wo
uld have to forgive her, but she couldn't bear to leave him there. "Brice?"

  "Yes, Abigail?" His voice surrounded her like the most tender touch.

  "If you remain above the blanket, you may sleep in this bed. I cannot tolerate seeing you on the floor, and we have a long journey. You will be bruised and battered each night if you stay as you are." Swallowing, she wished she were brave enough to offer more and relieve her desires.

  A tense silence hung in the room or maybe it was just her worry over what he would think of her. Men were inclined to take liberties with less of an overture from a woman.

  The floor creaked. His broad form loomed over her as he stood next to the bed. His breeches hung low on his hips, explaining why she'd not seen them above the blanket. There was no measurement for her relief that he was not bare from the waist down. She was only human, or witch, and Brice Lambert naked would be too much temptation for any woman.

  "If you are sure, I'll not say no to such a generous offer."

  She moved to the very edge of the bed to make room for him as he settled above the blanket beside her. "You'll never sleep on the floor, and I would feel wretched. It is too cruel."

  The bed dipped in her direction and his lips pressed to the top of her head. "Thank you, dear one."

  "You shouldn't call me by endearments. I..." She didn't know what else to say. "It's not appropriate."

  He didn't respond, only snuggled the side of his body close to her back and let out a long, tired sigh.

  Warm and safe, Abigail found the rest she was sure would elude her for hours.

  CHAPTER 3

  Brice enjoyed every moment he spent with Abigail. She was bright and full of information regarding witches and witchcraft. He was fascinated by it all. In the five days they'd been on the road, he'd learned more than any book might have taught him. "Then all people have some magic in them?"