Angel Laird Vampire Wife
by Suz deMello
Blurb:
Edgar, Laird
MacReiver, had never regretted his decision to wed Isobel, daughter of Clan
Kilburn’s laird…until she bit his tongue and drank his blood. Will tying her
hands, spanking her rump and making her come tame the wild child of the infamous vampire clan?
Or are some women
too dangerous to tame?
Available from:
~ * ~
Chapter One
Kilburn Castle, Scotland
1766
Some said that Edgar,
Laird MacReiver, had made a deal with the devil. And not just an ordinary deal,
for he’d agreed to marry the devil’s daughter.
Lacking a superstitious
cast of mind, he’d never regretted his decision to ally with Clan Kilburn until
this moment. Atop the battlements, he disregarded the noontime sun glittering
over the sea, the fresh spring breeze off the water and the white clouds
scudding through the sky. Instead, he watched the scene below him.
Down in the castle
courtyard, a young woman struggled with a horse. Not just any young woman.
She’d been betrothed to him before her birth. And not just any horse. Isobel,
now eighteen, grasped the bridle of Ranger, a buckskin stallion, the pride and
joy of Edgar’s heart.
She wrestled with a
reluctant Ranger before swinging long legs clad in trews over the steed’s back.
Clinging to his mane, she somehow kept her seat while the stallion curvetted
and spun. Her hat flew off and her braid loosened, the black hair whipping
‘round as Ranger sought to dislodge her.
Another neigh and a leap
before the horse dashed out of the open gate. His hooves clattered on the
drawbridge as he galloped over the moat. Isobel clung to his back like a flea
unwilling to give up its perch on a dog.
“I ordered her not to ride
Ranger,” Edgar said with some disbelief and more resentment. “He’s too big for
her. And he’s young, not quite broken. The only rider he tolerates is me.”
“Our Isobel is a bold
horsewoman.” Kieran Kilburn cocked a dark brow at Edgar. “She doesna like to
admit that there’s a steed on this earth that she canna master.”
Though nearing his
fiftieth year, the Kilburn chieftain hadn’t sprouted even one gray hair. No
wrinkles marred his smooth, unusually white skin, save those that were the
product of his constant smile. All the Kilburns shared the same traits: tall
and strong, with midnight black hair and eyes. In comparison Edgar often had
felt like a little white mouse, at least until he grew and the lassies started
to take an interest in his fair hair and blue eyes. Then he’d realized that his
different looks were an advantage.
An advantage, that is,
with everyone but Isobel.
“She obeys you.” The wind
loosened the leather thong tying Edgar’s hair at the nape. He tightened it.
“Why not me?”
Kier’s eyes twinkled. “She
obeys me, laddie, because I punish her when she does not.”
“May I borrow your Dash?”
Frowning, Edgar turned to descend into the courtyard with Kieran following.
“Aye, but don’t count on
Dash to catch his son.”
“We’ll do our best. Thank
you, sir.” He handed his blue jacket to a guard and mounted the buckskin. “I go
now to find my bride. I hope she’ll return suitably chastened.”
With a shrug, Kier folded
his arms over his chest. “Ye ken what ye have to do.”
* * * * *
Edgar caught up with
Isobel and Ranger in the forest. The horse now ambled rather than raced, the
trees bordering the meadow surrounding the castle having slowed his flight.
Edgar eased Dash into a walk and splashed through a brook while watching Ranger
manage Isobel.
The stallion apparently
decided that he no longer would tolerate even Isobel’s light weight and
proceeded to use a low-hanging branch to scrape her off. She landed flat on her
back with a grunt. Ranger headed toward the stream and the new green grass
beside it, thank the gods, instead of trampling the silly wench under his
hooves.
Her laughter could be
heard even from several yards away. “La! What a ride! I’ll tame that mount
yet.” She sat up and rubbed her back.
Still on horseback, Edgar
towered over her. “The only mount who needs taming is you. No harm done,
milady?” He was pleased that he kept a mild tone of voice, because inside he
was seething.
“None.” She smiled up at
him, her black eyes twinkling through the curtain of her lashes.
Bewitching, but he
hardened his heart, determined that he’d not be led by the nose. He didn’t like
managing females, and if he allowed her to rule him now, she’d rule him
forever. “Whatever possessed you to steal Ranger?”
“I didn’t steal Ranger. I
borrowed him.”
“Against my express
wishes. If your clumsiness has harmed him, Isobel—”
“My clumsiness?” She leapt
to her feet.
He gave her a long, cool
stare before turning away. He chirruped to Ranger, who raised his head from the
sweet grass by the stream. Still chewing, he walked sedately to Edgar.
He dismounted to caress
his horse’s forehead before running his hands along the neck and body.
Something hot and red billowed in Isobel’s chest. What was it? ‘Twas the same
uncomfortable feeling she got when her younger brothers or sisters claimed too
much of their parents’ attention. The same horrible emotion that overcame her
when other lassies dared to flirt with Edgar…which happened more frequently
than she liked.
Jealousy.
She was jealous of the
attention Edgar was giving to a horse. A horse.
Bloody hell.
Removing his gloves, Edgar
slid expert fingers up and down each of Ranger’s legs, paying particular
attention to the delicate fetlocks.
She wondered how those
long, tanned, strong fingers would feel if he touched her. When he finally
touched her. So far he’d kept his distance even though they were affianced, a
fact which she both liked and resented.
He straightened with a
sigh. “No harm done. You were lucky this time, my girl.”
“Your girl? Since when am
I your girl?”
He led the horse back to
the stream and dropped the reins. Ranger
drank placidly. Standing in the water with tail a’swish, he seemed completely
unlike the wild beast she’d sought to tame. Dash joined him.
Edgar eyed the horses,
then eyed her. “You’ve been mine since before you were born.”
“I mislike your manner,
sir. I am yet unmarried. I belong to no man.”
“You belong to me.” He
returned, looming over her, tall and blond and impossibly beautiful. The Angel
Laird, the lassies called him. Well, they could have him.
“I willna be ordered. I
willna be treated as though I’m a possession.”
He took her by the
shoulders. “But you are.”
His mouth descended on
hers while one hand seized the back of her head, holding her fast. She couldna
resist, and didna want to, for she’d yearned for this moment.
~ * ~
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