injuries she had given them. When they finally got her pinned against the wall, she hissed at them. The looks upon their faces told her that, during the battle, she may have revealed her ancestry a little too clearly. Their brief confusion faded, turning into looks of hard determination. Efrica knew she could not fight them anymore, that she was too bruised and exhausted.
Suddenly Jankyn appeared behind the men. Efrica decided that that wolf-eyed, teeth-baring look he wore held its own wild beauty at times. By the looks upon the faces of her attackers as they were suddenly lifted off their feet and flung aside, she knew they had not seen or heard Jankyn's approach, either. Thomas sprawled on the floor several feet away and did not move, but Lachlan began to stand up. Efrica saw Jankyn start to turn toward that man, fury still marking his features in a way no one could see and forget She hurled herself into his arms with the last of her strength, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Shield the teeth, Jankyn," she whispered, fighting to remain conscious until all danger had passed.
It was not easy, but Jankyn reined in his fury and bloodlust. He pressed his lips together before turning to face Lachlan. The scent of their blood, still flowing from the slashes Efrica's nails had inflicted, made that control even more difficult. As he stood there holding a trembling Efrica, Jankyn ached to make the men pay dearly for touching her, hurting her, and making her taste such fear.
"When I look again, ye and that other piece of offal had best be gone," Jankyn said to Lachlan, then turned his attention back to an increasingly limp Efrica. "They have hurt you."
Hearing the snarl in his voice, Efrica struggled to speak. "Nay so badly. A bit dazed and bruised is all. Ye dinnae need to be ripping any throats out. Could cause talk, ye ken."
Jankyn sighed loudly. "Ye do ken how to take all the joy out of a mon's life, lass."
Efrica attempted to smile, even though she was not sure he was jesting, at least not completely. "Are they gone?"
"Aye, scurried away like rats, they did. Weel, a wee bit more slowly as one rat had to carry the other." He picked her up in his arms when he realized that her grip upon his neck was probably all that kept her standing. "Are ye going to swoon?"
"Callan women ne'er swoon."
She had barely finished saying the words when she went completely limp in his arms and he rolled his eyes over her false bravado. He did not know where her chambers were, had made it a point not to know. That left his chambers and he was reluctant to take her there. Having Efrica in his room, upon his bed, could offer up more temptation than he could resist. Jankyn started toward the garden to find a bench where he could sit and hold her until she came out of her swoon. If anyone chanced to see them there, they would think it was two lovers trysting.
Once in the garden, Jankyn sought out a bench set between two small rowan trees, hard up against a high wall, and sat down. He settled Efrica comfortably upon his lap and studied her face in the soft light of the full moon. Even though he still ached to kill the men who had attacked her, he was glad she had stopped him again. He did not want her to see him commit such violence. The fact that she knew what he could do to a man was unsettling enough.
For a moment he wondered if he had become ashamed of what he was, then shook his head. He held none of the hard arrogance of his ancestors, that blind pride that had allowed them to see Outsiders as little more than dumb beasts to feed upon, but he was proud to be a MacNachton. The MacNachtons were more civilized now, had more respect for all life. It was fear that kept them all so secretive about their nature, fear of the dire fate awaiting anyone who was decried as a witch, a sorcerer, or a demon. And it was fear that allowed Lachlan and Thomas to escape his fury, fear of the look of horror and revulsion upon Efrica's sweet face as he rose
Suddenly Jankyn appeared behind the men. Efrica decided that that wolf-eyed, teeth-baring look he wore held its own wild beauty at times. By the looks upon the faces of her attackers as they were suddenly lifted off their feet and flung aside, she knew they had not seen or heard Jankyn's approach, either. Thomas sprawled on the floor several feet away and did not move, but Lachlan began to stand up. Efrica saw Jankyn start to turn toward that man, fury still marking his features in a way no one could see and forget She hurled herself into his arms with the last of her strength, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Shield the teeth, Jankyn," she whispered, fighting to remain conscious until all danger had passed.
It was not easy, but Jankyn reined in his fury and bloodlust. He pressed his lips together before turning to face Lachlan. The scent of their blood, still flowing from the slashes Efrica's nails had inflicted, made that control even more difficult. As he stood there holding a trembling Efrica, Jankyn ached to make the men pay dearly for touching her, hurting her, and making her taste such fear.
"When I look again, ye and that other piece of offal had best be gone," Jankyn said to Lachlan, then turned his attention back to an increasingly limp Efrica. "They have hurt you."
Hearing the snarl in his voice, Efrica struggled to speak. "Nay so badly. A bit dazed and bruised is all. Ye dinnae need to be ripping any throats out. Could cause talk, ye ken."
Jankyn sighed loudly. "Ye do ken how to take all the joy out of a mon's life, lass."
Efrica attempted to smile, even though she was not sure he was jesting, at least not completely. "Are they gone?"
"Aye, scurried away like rats, they did. Weel, a wee bit more slowly as one rat had to carry the other." He picked her up in his arms when he realized that her grip upon his neck was probably all that kept her standing. "Are ye going to swoon?"
"Callan women ne'er swoon."
She had barely finished saying the words when she went completely limp in his arms and he rolled his eyes over her false bravado. He did not know where her chambers were, had made it a point not to know. That left his chambers and he was reluctant to take her there. Having Efrica in his room, upon his bed, could offer up more temptation than he could resist. Jankyn started toward the garden to find a bench where he could sit and hold her until she came out of her swoon. If anyone chanced to see them there, they would think it was two lovers trysting.
Once in the garden, Jankyn sought out a bench set between two small rowan trees, hard up against a high wall, and sat down. He settled Efrica comfortably upon his lap and studied her face in the soft light of the full moon. Even though he still ached to kill the men who had attacked her, he was glad she had stopped him again. He did not want her to see him commit such violence. The fact that she knew what he could do to a man was unsettling enough.
For a moment he wondered if he had become ashamed of what he was, then shook his head. He held none of the hard arrogance of his ancestors, that blind pride that had allowed them to see Outsiders as little more than dumb beasts to feed upon, but he was proud to be a MacNachton. The MacNachtons were more civilized now, had more respect for all life. It was fear that kept them all so secretive about their nature, fear of the dire fate awaiting anyone who was decried as a witch, a sorcerer, or a demon. And it was fear that allowed Lachlan and Thomas to escape his fury, fear of the look of horror and revulsion upon Efrica's sweet face as he rose
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