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  I started from my observation and curtsied. Here was a laird, or one who was near to a laird to have such lavish clothing. "Pardon me, sir, but I didn't hear the question."

  "I asked you if you were sent here by my father," he repeated.

  I blinked at him. "I would answer that, sir, if I knew who you were."

  The young man raised an eyebrow and studied me for a moment. "I am the son of Laird Campbell, Tristan Campbell."

  I shrank from my foolishness and hung my head. "Then no, my laird, I was not sent by your father, nor by anyone else."

  His voice was soft, curious. There was no biting reprimand in his words. "Then how did come to be here?"

  "I was curious, my laird. I heard there was no one in this wing, but saw an old man venture in this direction. I thought perhaps he was a thief hiding in the abandoned rooms," I explained.

  He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what they tell everyone? Leod tells me little of the talk in the castle, and less outside of it," he commented.

  "Yes, my laird," I answered.

  He smiled and gestured to the seat at the fire. "Won't you join me for some talk? I am rather lonely here."

  "I shouldn't, my laird. I'm not supposed to be out of my room at this hour," I told him.

  "I will vouch for you if you find yourself in trouble," he promised. I looked between his face and the seat. Indecision stifled my actions. "Please," he begged.

  "If you think me worth the company," I replied.

  He chuckled. "You yourself saw my sole companion. Leod is loyal, but his faculties are a little stunted. I wish for fresh blood."

  I smiled and curtsied. "Then I will be glad to speak with you, my laird."

  "Good, then tell me of the village and the road. I have no view of them from my room," he commented as he set his hand on my lower back.

  I blushed as he guided me over to the fire and into the seat. The young laird himself stood beside the hearth so his countenance was partially thrown into shadows.

  "The village is well, and the road brings your father great wealth," I told him.

  He waved his hand. "I don't care for the wealth. What of news? What of humanity?" He paused and I felt his eyes on me. "What of yourself?"

  "I am but a servant, my laird," I replied.

  "You are my guest, and I ask of your health and the health of your family," he insisted.

  "If you so desire it, my laird," I wondered. He nodded and I took a deep breath to ease my nerves. "I was born and raised in the village, and have my mother and brother as kin."

  "No one else? No father?" he asked me.

  I shook my head. "He died two years ago fighting a band of the Menzies clan," I told him.

  "I see. You took servitude to support them?" he guessed.

  I sighed, but gave a nod. "Aye, and I have lost it with my foolishness this night."

  "You have not lost it so long as I am my father's son," he insisted.

  I looked up and studied his handsome features. "My laird, would you think it impertinent for me to ask you some questions?"

  He chuckled. "I would think it odd if you didn't."

  "What keeps you here? The village and servants think you dead, and your father acts as though he has no heir," I commented.

  "Ah, that question," he mused.

  "I'm sorry if I caused offensive," I quickly replied. I stood, but he stepped from the shadows and blocked my path.

  "Please stay," he pleaded.

  I looked away from him. "I really must be-"

  The laird took my hands in his and I felt the strange heat of desire well up inside myself. I looked into his bright eyes and felt myself slip into a strange trance. There was such power in his hands, and such warmth in his eyes. I couldn't resist the sensual feeling that wrapped around my body and soul. God forgive me, but I felt as though I were in Heaven.

  My laird leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. His lips were warm and thrilled me with such bodily feelings of sexual need that I broke apart and gasped for air. He pressed sweet, gentle kisses down down my neck. I sighed and tilted my head back. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. His voice was low and husky. I shuddered at the need that punctuated his words.

  "Are you sure?" he whispered.

  I nodded. Words couldn't describe the longing I felt inside me. My innocence quivered at the thought of losing myself to wanton desire, but a deeper part of me begged to know what he offered me. This was the first time in my life I was wanted by a man and felt that I could return that need.

  He smiled and captured my lips in a passionate kiss that devoured the last of my hesitation. I groaned and pressed myself closer to him. His hands ran across the strings that tied my dress to my body. His deft fingers untied my knots and my skirt fell to the floor. He opened my vest and blouse, and revealed my heaving, sensitive breasts. He pulled us to arm's length and his eyes swept over my nakedness. I blushed and tried to cover myself, but he grasped my wrists and held my hands at bay.

  His eyes burned with a feral light that made me shudder and look away. He pressed our bodies against each other again and nipped at my neck with his teeth. His hands slid to my waist, and he pulled off my under garments. His fingers dipped into the coarse black hair between my legs and brushed against the sensitive bump in my wet folds.

  A spasm of pleasure rippled through my body. I'd never known sexual pleasure before. The desire of my own flesh was an unknown world to me. I had missed so much. I gasped and clutched his arms. He chuckled and lifted his head to catch my eyes.

  "A virgin. How perfect," he mused.

  "I-is that bad?" I asked him. I feared he would reject me for my inexperience.

  He shook his head. "No, on the contrary. You will be mine, now and forever."

  He swept me into his arms and carried me over to the bed. He set me down atop the wild covers. I watched in fascination as he removed first his shirt and then his pants. His body was pale but well-muscled. My eyes wandered to his naked waist and widened when they beheld his need. His pulsing manhood was erect and swollen. The area between my legs swelled with heat. I panted for breath and my breasts heaved up and down.

  He lay down beside me and tossed away my shirt. I, too, now lay naked on the sheets. He covered me with his warm body and pressed the tip of himself against my hot, wet opening.

  "This may hurt, but the pleasure will be worth the pain," he assured me.

  He thrust into me, and I winced against the pain as he broke through the proof of my virginity. He froze and lifted himself onto his arms. His teeth ground together and he lay stiff above me.

  "So. . .tight," he murmured.

  I gasped when he pushed deeper into me. His swollen manhood slid against my sensitive nub and sent ripples of pleasure through me. My body shuddered and convulsed around him. He grunted and pulled out only to thrust back inside me. His long, careful penetration exhilarated me. My hands clutched the sheets and I arched my back so my breasts pressed against his chest. I longed for us to become one, to know each other in the most intimate way possible.

  He penetrated me again and again. Each thrust was a little faster than the one before. Every slide of him against me sent shivers of pleasure through me. I clutched myself to him and he pressed me to the sheets. My instincts took hold so that my hips mimicked his thrusts. The room filled with the sounds of our heaving and grinding. Our wet, naked bodies slid against each other. The sweet friction grew stronger inside me. I gasped for breath as he grunted and growled. He was like an animal, and my pleasure was his prey. He sought to bring out of me such delicious, sinful desire. I reveled in the feel of such lust, such passion. My insecurity, my shyness was swept aside by this powerful need to pleasure and be pleasured.

  "My laird. Oh, my laird," I chanted as one would chant to their god, for he was that to me. My god of love, of passion, of this burning desire inside me.

  "Louder," he growled. His voice was husky, thick and deep, like
that of him inside me.

  I tilted back my head and did as my laird bade me.

  "My laird!" I cried out. I abandoned all goodness and sanctity that had been taught me. There was only us, and in our carnal desire there was no need of religion. "My God! My Heaven! Take me! Make me yours!"

  "Yes," he snarled.

  He thrust harder into me. I clutched onto him as our love-making changed to a wild rut. We were as animals, wild beasts that reveled in the act of procreation. His grunts grew deeper. They were more like the growls of a dog or wolf. The colors in his eyes changed to a passionate gold like the untamed autumn in the valley. He wrapped his arms around me and panted in my ear.

  "Mine. All mine," he growled.

  I shuddered at such a deep, wild, possessive tone. My body ached for this man, this wild beast, to tame me and give me the wondrous breath of life that was orgasm. I was his mate and he my dominant, my laird, my everything.

  "Please!" I begged. I hardly knew what my delirious mind thought as words not my own poured from my mouth. "Please take me! Make me as you are!"

  My laird lay over me as some demon possessed. His eyes were yellow and his teeth were long. His tamed hair was now an unruly mess that fell over his shoulders like a mane. He curled his lips back in a grin that showed off his rows of sharp fangs.

  "You will be."

  He leaned down and bit my shoulder. I gasped and clutched onto him as he thrust faster into me. My body fell into the ruins of delirious passion, and my soul with it. I shook and shivered as all the world faded into black. For a moment there was only we two, but that, too, faded until I knew no more.

  CHAPTER 7

  I awoke as though in a dream. I imagined I lay in my father's strong arms, and he carried me through a dark forest like those that stood at the far end of the farthest hay fields.

  "A lady shouldn't need to walk," he teased me.

  "But I am not a lady. . ." I murmured.

  He smiled down at me and his face changed. No longer was he my father, but the young Laird Campbell. The world around us, too, changed. The forest melted away and was changed to the dark halls of Castle Campbell.

  "You will be," he promised me.

  My eyes widened, and the dream vanished. I lifted my head and looked around me in bewilderment. Gone was the laird's strong arms, and in their place was the cold, hard floor of the passage outside my room. I lay atop the rough dirt and cool stones beside the open door. Mary still was asleep on her bed of straw.

  I looked to the kitchen. The light from the old man's candle was gone. There was only darkness and the quiet of the early morning. Someone stirred in their room, and a sudden fear struck my heart at the chance of being found outside my room.

  I crawled on my hands and knees into my room and lay still atop my bed. I peeked through my lidded eyes and glimpsed Aili pass by with candle in hand. She paused at our door and frowned as she studied the opening. Aili quietly pushed the door shut, and the candlelight beneath the door disappeared down the hall.

  In a few moments I heard the sound of the fire damper open and a curse from Aili.

  "Blasted cold mornings. . ." she muttered.

  Her footsteps returned to the passage, and in a moment there came a ringing of metal upon metal. "Come along, you soft women! Time to get up!"

  The other women shuffled from heir small rooms and I behind them. They rubbed their tired eyes and glared at Aili.

  "Can we not wait for the sun?" one of our number mumbled.

  "Not when there's guests to be taken care of!" Aili snapped. She caught my eyes and jerked her head over her shoulder. "You'll be wanted in the hall with the other chamber maids."

  I bowed my head and hurried past her through the door. The dining hall was dark and quiet, much like it had been in my strange night vision, or had it been real? I had some proof for the latter, but the impossibility was to the former.

  My thoughts still wondered about the previous night when I reached the grand hall. Bean Lyel stood at the bottom of the staircase with two other young women of my age beside her. There were brooms and empty buckets beside them. Bean Lyel turned to me and frowned.

  "What kept you?" she snapped.

  I bowed my head and curtsied. "Forgive me. I did not know the hour to come."

  "Five-thirty sharp, and I expect no excuses that you know not the time for the dark hours," she told me.

  "Aye, Bean Lyel," I replied.

  "Good. Now you're all to clean the hall this day until I call you to clean the chambers, and whatever you're to do, don't make enough noise to disturb the guests," she ordered us.

  "Aye, Bean Lyel," we answered.

  "Now off with you, and no dawdling," she finished.

  She walked up the stairs and we all took a broom in our hands. I followed the lead of the others as they swept the corners and main pathway, and soon a pile of dirt grew between us. One of the women, a lass of eighteen winters, swept up next to me and smiled. She had long brown hair tied behind her and her clothes were as weather-worn as mine.

  "What is your name?" she whispered.

  "Muira," I replied.

  "I'm Davina," she told me. Her eyes wandered over my form. "I haven't seen you before around the castle. Are you new to the area?"

  I shook my head. "No. I live at the edge of the village."

  She laughed. "Near the moors? That does explain your name."

  "My mother loves the moors, and my father wished to please her," I explained.

  "Oh, don't mistake my meaning. Muira is a very pretty name," she insisted. "But how did a moor-child get a spot in the castle of the Nightmare King?"

  "Hush, Davina," the other woman hissed.

  "Nightmare King?" I repeated.

  "You agree with me well enough in our room, Eva," Davina snapped at her friend.

  "But not out here," Eva pointed out.

  "Who is the Nightmare King?" I persisted.

  Davina frowned and jerked her head towards the stairs. "Laird Campbell and his evil doings. I don't know if the rumors reach outside the castle, but we know well enough his agreements with sorcerers and witches."

  "I have heard nothing of this in the village," I told her.

  She scoffed. "Then it's his gold that keeps the ones who know silent, for I know he deals with them. I've seen them myself coming and going in the middle of the night."

  Eva stopped her sweeping and gripped her broom tight. Her eyes flitted around the room and she cringed. "Davina. . ." she whispered.

  "Oh hush, Eva. There's no one here to hear-" We all three of us jumped when a door shut above us.

  Soft, slow footsteps walked the north wing passage.

  "To work!" Davina hissed.

  We resumed our chore, but my curiosity forced me to pause as the footsteps sounded above us. I tilted my head up and my mouth opened as I beheld the same twisted form of a man from the previous night. Even in the weak morning light there was no mistaking the hunched form of Leod. He shuffled along the balcony and stopped where the passages met. Bean Lyel walked out of the west wing passage and let out a startled gasp. She clutched her chest and glared at the man.

  "What is it, husband?" she snapped at him. I started at this revelation. Bean Lyel was wife to this misshapen man.

  "The master wants news. . ." I heard him mumble.

  Bean Lyel's narrow eyes swept down to the stairs to us. I averted my eyes and resumed my sweeping.

  "Come with me," Bean Lyel hissed.

  Their footsteps retreated down the west wing passage, and in a moment Davina stopped her sweeping and nodded up at the balcony.

  "You see what I mean now? Such strange servants he keeps, and what he keeps in the north wing I can't fathom," she commented.

  "Perhaps the young laird," I suggested.

  Davina furrowed her brow. "His son? He's been dead for-" Her eyes widened and her mouth was agape. "By all the saints, what if he seeks to return his son from the dead?"

  "Now you speak nothing but nonsense, and only
mean to scare us," Eva argued.

  "Does anyone know where the young laird is buried?" I asked the pair.

  "Much of the family is in the vault in the castle garden, but I have heard rumors of a crypt inside the castle buried deep in the pits of the earth," Davina told me.

  "Davina!" Eva scolded her.

  "What's this?" Bean Lyel's voice snapped above us. She strode down the stairs and glared at us each in turn. "Have you nothing better to do then quibble like children? Is the sweeping done."

  "Nearly so, Bean Lyel," Davina assured her.

  "Then finish and follow me. Our laird has ordered his guests arise early to join him in morning services, and the beds must be turned out and the rooms cleaned before they return," she ordered us.

  We finished our sweeping and hurried upstairs behind Bean Lyel. She led us down the west wing passage and to the rooms that had been opened the day before. They were closed now, but the one that faced north opened and Lady Annabel stepped into the hall. She wore a dress of shimmering emerald green and her hair was combed to a shine. Behind her was a servant girl of fourteen who's head was perpetually bowed.

  Lady Annabel sneered at us and looked to Bean Lyel. "Bean Lyel, I expect my chamber maids to not be seen."

  Bean Lyel pursed her lips, but bowed her head. "Forgive us, your ladyship. It shall not happen again."

  "See that it doesn't," the lady affirmed.

  She pushed past us with her woman a few feet behind her. Bean Lyel snapped her hardened eyes to us.

  "Let that be a warning to you all. If you wish to retain your positions you must keep yourselves out of view of her ladyship," she warned us.

  "Aye, Bean Lyel," we answered.

  "Now let us begin. Davina and Muira, to her ladyship's room, and Evanna and I to his lairdship's room," she ordered us.

  We separated into the two groups, and Davina and I slipped into the Lady Annabel's room. The place was as a pigsty with wonderful clothes strewn about the room and the floor a mess with water, sheets, and soot from an ill-tended fire in the hearth.

  Davina studied the room and frowned. "It seems she is lady only in birth and not in habits." She picked up an elegant dress of fine make and shook her head. "I can't fathom why Bean Lyel would be worried they would return soon from morning mass. Lady Annabel has much to confess to the priest."