Read Online Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood Series Book 4) by Adele Clee - Free Book Online
Authors: Adele Clee
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thought Nikolai had returned. My … my mind … I cannot think clearly. I do not know what is real anymore.”
“Nikolai?” Douglas snorted. He came over to her, placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Could ye not see yer mistake, lass? Hell, I’d know that heathen like I’d know my own mother.”
“Will someone mind telling me what on earth is going on?” Lachlan’s voice held no hint of anger, no hint of disgust.
He deserved to know the truth.
Isla sucked in a breath, let the air travel calmly through her body to bolster her courage. She straightened her spine, gave Douglas a weak smile.
“I am not human, Lachlan.” She came to stand in front of him, ignored the way his brows knitted together when he looked at her face. “I’ve not been human since Nikolai infected my blood. I have no choice but to live like this. I must drink fresh blood else I will die.” She ran her tongue over the points of her fangs. “I am the creature the villagers fear. I am their worst nightmare come true.”
He took a step back. “You killed their cattle for their blood?”
“No!” She shook her head vigorously. “Good Lord, no. Everything I have told you has been the truth. You saw the real culprit yourself. It is just that there is more to the affliction than I led you to believe.”
Douglas stepped forward. “She’s still the same lass you remember. You dinnae have to look at her teeth.”
She would have laughed at her old friend’s words had she not been so utterly heartbroken. As though powered by her sorrowful thoughts, the fangs she detested shrank back into their sheath.
Lachlan jerked his head in surprise. “My mind refuses to accept what my eyes are seeing.”
“This is who I am now, Lachlan. I cannot turn back time. I cannot go back to how things used to be. I am cursed, and there is nothing I can do but learn to live with my affliction.”
The gentleman cleared his throat as he picked up his coat and shook it out. “That is not entirely true.” He shrugged into the garment and took his wife’s hand. “I am Leo Devlin, Marquess of Hartford. And this is my wife, Ivana. We have travelled all the way from Bavaria to see you.”
“Bavaria?” Isla gasped. Good heavens. She did not know what was more shocking. A marquess stood in the bailey — a peer of the realm — and he had come hundreds of miles to see her.
The lady rushed forward, her warm countenance in no way reflecting any resentment for her earlier mistreatment. She took Isla’s hand and rubbed it affectionately. “We have come to tell you that Nikolai is dead. We have come to bring you the cure for your blood affliction.”
Chapter 7
Isla’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground.
Nikolai was dead. She was a widow. The strangers spoke of a cure for her debilitating disease. The Lord had listened to her prayers. It was all too much for her to absorb.
Lachlan reached for her arm; the lady assisted him in helping to haul her to her feet. She sensed an element of hesitancy in Lachlan’s movements: a reluctance to touch her coupled with an air of apprehension one often saw when someone held a newborn child that wasn’t kin.
Douglas wrapped his arms across his chest. “I say we continue this conversation in front of the fire. The night’s as cold as Malmuirie’s—” He stopped abruptly before his tongue ran away with him and he said something to offend their illustrious guests. Waving a hand towards the door, he said, “Please, come this way, my lord.”
The marquess smiled. “You must call me Leo. When people are connected as we are, there’s no need for formalities.” The gentleman’s wary gaze travelled over her. “I assume your daughter has no objection to us entering your home.”
“Ah, Isla’s nae my daughter. But her father was like a brother to me and so that makes us kin.”
The gentleman nodded. “I understand completely.”
“I … I have no objection.” Isla’s
“Nikolai?” Douglas snorted. He came over to her, placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Could ye not see yer mistake, lass? Hell, I’d know that heathen like I’d know my own mother.”
“Will someone mind telling me what on earth is going on?” Lachlan’s voice held no hint of anger, no hint of disgust.
He deserved to know the truth.
Isla sucked in a breath, let the air travel calmly through her body to bolster her courage. She straightened her spine, gave Douglas a weak smile.
“I am not human, Lachlan.” She came to stand in front of him, ignored the way his brows knitted together when he looked at her face. “I’ve not been human since Nikolai infected my blood. I have no choice but to live like this. I must drink fresh blood else I will die.” She ran her tongue over the points of her fangs. “I am the creature the villagers fear. I am their worst nightmare come true.”
He took a step back. “You killed their cattle for their blood?”
“No!” She shook her head vigorously. “Good Lord, no. Everything I have told you has been the truth. You saw the real culprit yourself. It is just that there is more to the affliction than I led you to believe.”
Douglas stepped forward. “She’s still the same lass you remember. You dinnae have to look at her teeth.”
She would have laughed at her old friend’s words had she not been so utterly heartbroken. As though powered by her sorrowful thoughts, the fangs she detested shrank back into their sheath.
Lachlan jerked his head in surprise. “My mind refuses to accept what my eyes are seeing.”
“This is who I am now, Lachlan. I cannot turn back time. I cannot go back to how things used to be. I am cursed, and there is nothing I can do but learn to live with my affliction.”
The gentleman cleared his throat as he picked up his coat and shook it out. “That is not entirely true.” He shrugged into the garment and took his wife’s hand. “I am Leo Devlin, Marquess of Hartford. And this is my wife, Ivana. We have travelled all the way from Bavaria to see you.”
“Bavaria?” Isla gasped. Good heavens. She did not know what was more shocking. A marquess stood in the bailey — a peer of the realm — and he had come hundreds of miles to see her.
The lady rushed forward, her warm countenance in no way reflecting any resentment for her earlier mistreatment. She took Isla’s hand and rubbed it affectionately. “We have come to tell you that Nikolai is dead. We have come to bring you the cure for your blood affliction.”
Chapter 7
Isla’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground.
Nikolai was dead. She was a widow. The strangers spoke of a cure for her debilitating disease. The Lord had listened to her prayers. It was all too much for her to absorb.
Lachlan reached for her arm; the lady assisted him in helping to haul her to her feet. She sensed an element of hesitancy in Lachlan’s movements: a reluctance to touch her coupled with an air of apprehension one often saw when someone held a newborn child that wasn’t kin.
Douglas wrapped his arms across his chest. “I say we continue this conversation in front of the fire. The night’s as cold as Malmuirie’s—” He stopped abruptly before his tongue ran away with him and he said something to offend their illustrious guests. Waving a hand towards the door, he said, “Please, come this way, my lord.”
The marquess smiled. “You must call me Leo. When people are connected as we are, there’s no need for formalities.” The gentleman’s wary gaze travelled over her. “I assume your daughter has no objection to us entering your home.”
“Ah, Isla’s nae my daughter. But her father was like a brother to me and so that makes us kin.”
The gentleman nodded. “I understand completely.”
“I … I have no objection.” Isla’s
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