Opening her eyes, she saw Niall’s intent brown eyes, the set line of his jaw. His thumbs passed over her pulse again, making her lips part anew, the muscles in her thighs tremble.
All right, then, muirnín?
Evan had given his servant a direct line to her mind, at least for this moment, and knowing they were both there, that she was no longer alone in her head, was so overwhelming, she couldn’t speak, even as thought. She started trembling, her fingers curling over Niall’s, still holding her wrists.
It’s all right, yekirati. Shhh. We’re here.
Evan’s voice now. Never in her entire life had a vampire comforted her. Thanked her. Apologized to her. Evan had done all three in less than a day.
“So I require a great deal of training from my InhServ to meet proper standards?”
“No, sir . . . I could never . . .” Then she saw the gray eyes crinkling at the corners, though a serious cast remained to his features.
“That’s your job, isn’t it? Teaching a made vampire how to act more like a born vampire?”
Yes, but even when providing the most subtle guidance to Stephen, she did so from a kneeling position, her head bowed, always making it clear she was an instrument. A gift, like money or a title, that would help him ascend in the ranks of the vampires. At no time was the gift to appear superior to the one to whom she’d been given. In the end, she’d certainly not been a gift to Lord Stephen.
“I’m here to serve you however you require, Master.” He’d said she’d know when to call him that. She saw the dark brows knitting, lips firming in a way that made her want to touch his face, even if she’d never dream of doing that without being commanded.
Evan returned her to a vertical position, guiding her to put her arms around Niall’s shoulders again, only she was face-to-face with the Scot this time. As he guided her legs back to the ground he held on to her, because her legs were shaking. One large hand cupped her face, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as Evan redid her hair in a loose braid.
“‘And whenever a woman grows her hair, it is a glory to her, because her hair is given to her in place of a covering.’ In short, a veil to show her respect to God, to her Master.” The vampire stroked the shorter tendrils behind her ears, lingering on the delicate shell shape. Alanna stayed still, thinking she could remain like this forever. Their bodies and hands touching her, their voices in her mind. It was the safest she’d ever felt, in a world where she’d never thought to ask for sanctuary.
When she was at last steady enough for Niall to ease his hold, let her stand on her own two feet, Evan was squatting on his heels nearby, the thin fabric of the cargos pulling attractively across his thighs. He was checking the shots on the screen of the camera. His notebook was open on the ground, and he was making some other notations.
“We have a little farther to go,” Niall told her, his hand on the small of her back. “But it’s just a couple hundred yards. Since he’s done the timed shot, we can set an easier pace. Do you feel up to walking?”
She felt like flying. So she nodded.
5
THEIR destination was a rocky ledge, with tufts of silver-limned grass spiking from the overlapping stones. The trees fell back, no longer a thatched net above. Now she was beneath a wide black sky, illuminated by plentiful stars scattered in so many patterns, it would take a lifetime to draw all the pictures they created.
Niall bade her take a seat on one of the flat rocks and watch how he set up Evan’s equipment. While she accepted that as a useful course of action, she wondered if he’d done it because she still looked like a good breeze could send her off the cliff.
She assumed Evan intended to photograph the surroundings here as well, and he did take some shots as Niall was unloading the backpacks, but then she saw the servant setting up two easels, stretching canvas over pegged frames. A folding table came next, with brushes, assorted tubes of paint, palette, rags, a bottle of water.
Fishing out his pocketknife, Niall used the corkscrew to open a bottle of red wine, sitting it on the table with a stack of plastic cups. The vampires she knew would have packed wineglasses and an expensive cheese and fruit tray.
“Too uncouth?” Evan lifted his head from his camera.
Never knowing when he was listening—the one disconcerting thing about having a vampire in her mind.
“Only one?” His handsome mouth curved.
“Of course not, my l—” She stopped. “Sir.”
Niall chuckled. Done with his tasks, he flopped down next to her, leaning back on his elbows, propping one giant hiking boot atop the other. She guessed he wore a size thirteen, since his foot looked twice as broad and long as hers. “Most times, he uses the cups to clean his brushes and chugs the wine straight from the bottle. Does anything about him say his lairdship?”
“His ownership of me . . . and you,” she said stiffly. “It demands respect and honor. Service.”“I knew slave owners in my time. Some of them needed to have their testicles hacked off and their throats cut. In that order.” Removing an apple from the pack she’d brought, Niall cut a slice, offering it to her. “Want a bite?”
Evan appeared to be involved in his paints. Even so, Niall’s blatant rudeness shocked her.
“No. Our Master isn’t that type of vampire. Why would you say such a horrible, disrespectful thing?”
Niall stopped chewing. His suddenly cool expression made her color rise in contrast. She’d just asserted she knew far more about Evan than his three-hundred-year-old servant and, even worse, criticized Niall’s service to him.
I don’t need a champion, Alanna. Though I thank you for the thought.
If her cheeks could burn hotter, she was sure they would. When she lowered her gaze with a nod, she hoped the ground would swallow her. She didn’t know how to deal with a servant who didn’t act like a servant at all. Even so, Evan’s lack of reaction to it made her wonder. Stephen would have had any servant with half that insolence whipped until blood ran down their backs.
“Alanna.”
She lifted her confused eyes to the vampire. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to say that thought out loud. She’d never thought of having to guard her thoughts from what a servant might think of her.
“Evan,” the vampire said. “Say my name.”
“Evan.” She managed it, though it felt clumsy, wrong. “Sir.”
At Niall’s snort, she quelled sudden anger, an unexpected emotion for her.
“My apologies. Evan.” She said it carefully, like a foreign language, and it was. “I’m accustomed to referring to all vampires as my lord.”
“Because all of them were.” Evan nodded, unperturbed. “Born vampires, territory overlords, or Region Masters. It’s understandable. I don’t mind if you slip. Just keep correcting yourself.” His tone became dry. “The more time you spend around me, the easier it will get. As Niall pointed out, the differences will be quite obvious.”
He was different. But it wasn’t because he was ill-mannered, unrefined. It was something hard to define, something that held her attention, like the puzzle of how to best serve him. That challenge, such a change from what she’d known, made her cautiously like the difference.
A strange thought. She hadn’t thought about liking or disliking things in quite a while. That path was best pushed aside. The best way to do that was to perform some task for her new Master, yet at the moment she saw nothing to hand.
Niall had left her side. Finished with his apple, he headed farther down the rocky grade, apparently to toss the core off the ledge for the wildlife. The Scot turned his head at her regard, gave her a wink that reassured her that his offense with her comment was short-lived. She let out a sigh of relief, just as his knee went out from beneath him and he lost his footing.
As he skidded down the precipitous grade, the distance was so short there was no time to cry out. He went right over it, in a shower of dirt and rock. She jumped to her feet with a cry, spinning to look at Evan. The vampire was mixing his paints, not the least bit concerned his full servant had toppled off the edge of a mountain. Her eyes narrowed. Looking back toward the cliff edge, she saw Niall’s fingers appear, digits curving over the stone lip.
“A wee bit of help, lass?”
She told herself he was fine, but it looked so dire, that deep gorge just beyond the rock edge. Imagining his feet dangling free over a yawning drop, the sharp pines and firs ready to catch him in their teeth, she quickened her step. Of course, with her diminished strength, she wouldn’t be able to do much if he truly needed help. Since Evan appeared to have no plans to leave his work in progress, Niall might have to hang there for a while.
She knelt on the ledge carefully by Niall’s hands and leaned out, fully expecting to see him dangling. Instead there was a generous shelf of rock jutting out below that one. He stood on that, his fingers curled on the rock. He was leaning, not hanging from it.
“I like the way ye look when you hurry, lass,” he noted. “You’ve a lovely shape.”
“Why would you do that?” she demanded. As she straightened, she did her best to step on those fingers, but he moved them, anticipating her.
“If you want to push him off for real, Alanna, that’s fine with me,” Evan noted. He had the palette in hand, was dabbing some color on the canvas, considering it critically.
“Without my usual strength, I need the element of surprise,” she responded. When she gave Niall a condemning look, he chuckled.
“She’s serious, Evan.”
“So am I.” The vampire shifted to study the canvas from another angle. Alanna couldn’t help but notice how the pants creased attractively over his groin, displaying what was there. It cooled her irritation with Niall, yet heated other parts of her.
Evan glanced up, giving her an appraising glance that increased that heat. “I now have a new servant who treats me with proper deference and respect. She also has a gorgeous body and miles of lovely hair. Why do I need your ugly face and poor manners?”