His Immortal Embrace. Lynsay Sands

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scented Sophie’s fear and the hot lust of the man pinning her to the bed. With a soft growl, he leapt toward the bed just as Sir Ranald looked to see what had caused the loud noise. The man screamed and tried to flee, but Alpin grabbed him by the throat and the crotch. He held the cursing, praying man over his head and then threw him against the wall.

      A hand grabbed his arm and he easily shook it off. A small, still sane part of his mind recognized Eric’s voice, but Alpin ignored his friend. He hoisted the now weeping Sir Ranald over his head again.

      “Alpin, ye came in time.”

      That soft, husky voice calling his name cut right through Alpin’s rage. The bloodlust still roared in his veins, however. He ached to kill this man who had touched Sophie, had hurt and frightened her. Yet, he could not do so in front of her. Still holding Ranald, Alpin walked out of the room to the head of the stairs and tossed the man into the crowd of MacLanes hurrying up the steps. He then returned to Sophie’s bedchamber, walked to the bed, and reached for her.

      Sophie did not hesitate. She flung herself into his arms, wrapping her arms about his neck and her legs about his waist, clinging to him like a small child. She sensed the fury and bloodlust which still pounded in his veins, but she felt only the comfort of his arms, the protection he offered her. As he walked out of her bedchamber, she caught sight of Nella and made a soft sound of distress.

      “She lives. E’en now she wakes,” Alpin said and continued on to his own bedchamber. “Eric will see to her care.” He stepped into his room and barred the door behind him.

      Eric helped a slowly rousing Nella to her feet, putting his arm around her to steady her. “Ye will be fine, lassie.”

      “Oh! My lady!” Nella cried, suddenly recalling who had attacked her and easily guessing why.

      “The laird has her.”

      “Ah.” Nella slumped against Eric, finding comfort in the burly strength of the man. “ ’Tis a wonder, as I ne’er thought such words would cross my lips, but I am glad he has her.” She squeaked in alarm, although she did not move, when Eric suddenly drew his sword and held it out to stop Sir Peter’s advance on Alpin’s bedchamber.

      “He nearly killed my nephew!” snapped Sir Peter, but he made no further move toward Alpin’s room.

      “Ye are lucky the fool still breathes. He was after raping the Lady Sophie.”

      “So he tried to have a wee tussle with the laird’s whore. ’Tisnae worth breaking near every bone in his body.”

      Eric felt Nella stiffen with outrage and tightened his grip on her. “Ye should try thinking ere ye speak, Sir Peter.”

      “Curse it, he shames my daughter, insults her by carrying on e’en whilst the wedding preparations are made.” He took a step toward Alpin’s room, only to stop and draw a sharp breath when Eric pressed the tip of his sword more firmly against his chest.

      “If ye take another step, I will gut ye where ye stand. Ye will leave the laird and Lady Sophie alone, and, if ye are wise, ye will say naught. Your lass has made it verra clear she doesnae want this marriage, so I doubt she cares what the laird does as long as he doesnae come too close to her. Still, I suspect there will be a marriage done. E’en if the laird comes to his senses, ye can probably make some other arrangement to ensure he still fights your battles for ye.” Eric met the man’s glare calmly and watched him stalk away, back down the stairs. “A fool as weel as a coward,” he muttered.

      Nella looked up at Eric. “Did that bastard hurt my lady?”

      “Nay,” replied Eric. “Alpin reached her in time, although I cannae say how he kenned she needed help.”

      “There are a lot of things I dinnae understand about all of this, about the curse, e’en about some of the things Sophie can do. Dinnae think I e’er will.” She looked around him, her eyes widening when she saw the battered condition of the door. “The laird did that?”

      “Aye. The bloodlust was running high in him. If your lady hadnae spoken to him, I think he would have torn that fool Sir Ranald apart.” He saw Nella frown in the direction of Alpin’s bedchamber. “He willnae hurt her.”

      “I think I begin to believe that. Weel, at least that he willnae hurt her in body, but I think he will sorely bruise her heart.” She sighed and looked back at Eric. “She loves him, ye ken.”

      “Aye, and I think he loves her. Unfortunately, that will probably ensure that he sends her away.”

      Nella nodded. “And thus doom us all.”

      “I thought we were all doomed anyway.”

      “My lady thinks she kens how to break the curse, but I shouldnae tell ye. There cannae be any help given. It has to be by free choice, unaided and undriven.”

      “I swear I will hold fast to what ye tell me,” vowed Eric.

      “She thinks she is the key to unlock the curse. She thinks he has to choose her o’er Margaret with her lands and her dowry.”

      Eric stared at Nella for a moment, then cursed. “Of course. ’Tis there to see in the last few lines of that bitch’s curse. ’Tis so clear, I wonder that we didnae all see it the moment we heard it. Heart o’er gain. Sophie o’er Margaret. And ye are right. It must be his choice, one made without prodding or trickery. Wheesht, lass, ye have set a heavy burden upon my shoulders.”

      “Aye, ’tis a hard thing to ken and nay be able to act upon,” Nella said.

      “Exactly. I can see hope within our grasp, but I must stand silent. All I can do is pray that Alpin acts as he must to free us all.”

      Nella looked back at Alpin’s door. “Pray that as he holds her close, he comes to need that verra much, indeed, so much that he decides to cast aside that noble plan to free her for her own sake.” She shook her head. “Pray, for all our sakes, that your laird has one blinding moment of selfishness which lasts long enough to ensure there is nay turning back.”

      Alpin watched the firelight caress Sophie’s skin as she stood before the fire and washed herself. Each time she dampened the rag in the bowl of water and ran it over her skin, he felt desire tauten his insides. She was so beautiful, so graceful, it made him ache. He was not blind to the bruises upon her skin, however, and had to fight back a strong urge to hunt Sir Ranald down and kill him.

      That rage and bloodlust had still held him firmly in its grip when he had first brought her into his room. Alpin could vaguely recall stripping them both and climbing into his bed with her in his arms. He had held her while she had wept. At some point during that emotional storm, she had fallen asleep. Still holding her close, he, too, had dozed, waking when she had slipped from his arms. And, despite the fact that he wanted her back in his arms, he was thoroughly enjoying the view.

      Sophie blushed when she dried herself, turned to go back to bed, and caught Alpin watching her. She hurried to the side of the bed, gasping with surprise when he suddenly moved, grabbed her, and pulled her into his arms. The man could move with astonishing speed, she thought, as he tucked the bedcovers over them both. She wrapped her arms around him as he nuzzled her neck.

      “I can still smell him,” Alpin muttered, then tightened his hold on her when she tried to move away. “Stay.”

      “But

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