Read Online The Eternal Highlander by Lynsay Sands, Hannah Howell - Free Book Online Page A

there. Then Bridget recalled Mora’s evasiveness when she had asked her how old Jankyn and the laird were, and she frowned.
    “Are ye saying MacNachtons live a long time?” she asked.
    Edmee laughed, but it was not a pleasant, joyful sound. “Ye might say that. We arenae the weaklings ye Outsiders are. We are stronger, faster, superior in every way.”
    “Including in vanity, it appears.”
    “We have a right to our vanity. We are in need of nothing from ye or your kind. There is naught ye can do that we cannae do better.”
    “Truly? Ah me, this lantern grows most heavy. Mayhap we should step outside, into the sun, and discuss this further.”
    Bridget tensed when Edmee snarled at her and reached for her. Instead of the attack she anticipated, however, her sight of the infuriated Edmee was suddenly blocked by a tall, slim figure. An instant later, Edmee seemed to fly through the air. Bridget gasped as the woman hit one of the posts holding up the roof of the stables, certain that the woman was dead. It took a full minute for Bridget to believe her own eyes when a softly cursing Edmee got to her feet and brushed off her skirts.
    “I wasnae going to kill the little fool, Jankyn,” Edmee said.
    Jankyn shrugged as he stepped back to stand at Bridget’s side. “Ye could have. Ye were angry.”
    A chill went down Bridget’s spine. If the ease and speed with which Jankyn had tossed Edmee so far was an example of a MacNachton’s strength, he was right. Edmee could have killed her. Bridget was not sure it would have been the accident Jankyn implied, however.
    “I am still angry.” Edmee languidly combed her fingers through her hair, cleaning it of bits of hay. “Cathal’s plan is pure madness. He wants to destroy all that makes us strong. How can ye stand beside him in this?”
    “Because he is my laird,” Jankyn replied. “Because he is right. We are dying, Edmee. A long, slow death to be sure, but we are still dying. There hasnae been a child born to a Pureblood in two score years.”
    Forty? Bridget looked at Jankyn, who flashed her a cocky grin before returning his full attention to Edmee. That grin did not soothe her. If no bairn had been born to the Purebloods in forty years that meant Jankyn was that age or older. He looked little older than her. Bridget decided she did not really want to think about that.
    “Ye have been of breeding age for at least that long,” Jankyn continued, scowling at Edmee. “Despite the many hours ye spend in rutting and the vast army of bed partners ye have had, your womb has ne’er quickened. None of the women of the Purebloods has quickened with child in far too many years. Nay, not e’en those women who arenae so particular about the blood of the mon they rut with. Cathal’s father only seeded one child in his Outsider wife. E’en the MacMartins have few bairns. We have bred amongst ourselves for too long, Edmee. None of the gifts we have are worth anything if there is no bairn to carry on the name, the blood, or the traditions of our forefathers. We have become naught but a group of barren women and weak-seeded men. That is death, Edmee. Aye, it might be long in coming, but ’tis still death.”
    “Better death than to become a weak, puling Outsider,” hissed Edmee, and then she was gone.
    “She is gone,” Bridget whispered, feeling foolish for stating the obvious, yet unsettled by Edmee’s abrupt disappearance.
    “Aye.” Jankyn scowled after Edmee for a moment before turning his gaze upon Bridget. “There are tunnels connecting nearly every building in Cambrun. Ye are stirring up a lot of trouble, arenae ye?”
    “Me? I just came to explore this building. She is the one stirring up trouble. She wants Cathal, I think.”
    “She does, e’en though his Outsider blood sickens her. Edmee would like to be the lady of Cambrun. She has ne’er been able to convince Cathal of that, however. It doesnae help her cause that she makes her contempt of his mother so verra