Wynter's Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 5)

by Brooklyn Ann

  Heaving a sigh, Bethany closed her eyes and relived the kiss in her mind. Never before had she imagined it would be so potent, so magical.

  Her practical side tried to remind her that Lord de Wynter was a rake, and thus kisses meant nothing to one such as him, but her whimsical side refused to listen.

  After all, did he speak with other women about his love of books? Somehow, she doubted it. Because if he already had literate lady loves, he would never have bothered to speak with a debutante like her. Not that the thought of him having lady loves didn’t make her stomach churn with discomfort.

  No. Her chin lifted. They’d shared something special. She was certain of it.

  He’d even told her that he’d see her again soon.

  Perhaps that meant that he’d call upon her tomorrow!

  Bethany had to clap a hand over her mouth to suppress a giddy sigh. Although she would have preferred to linger here in the shadowed garden, basking in the bliss of Justus’s kiss, her mother was bound to be looking for her.

  With utmost reluctance, she rose from the bench and left the garden, pausing only to pluck a rose to mark the memory of this night.

  The fireworks continued to erupt in the sky, the loud booms and bright flashes of color echoing the brilliant light and pounding in her heart.

  Bethany found her mother easily. Lady Wickshire’s garish puce hat adorned with green feathers bobbed up and down as she spoke with Lady Bentley, the mother of a young heir to an Earldom. The boy had shown no interest in Bethany when they’d been introduced, instead making eyes at Rebecca.

  Boy. Bethany smirked at the word. The heir had to be two or three years her elder, but nearly all gentlemen she’d met appeared to be boys compared to Justus.

  “There you are!” Lady Wickshire interrupted Bethany’s reverie. “Where have you been?”

  “I was circulating amongst the guests, making small talk so as not to look a wallflower.” The lie flowed through easily. “Just as you advised me.”

  Cecily nodded in satisfaction. “Such an obedient girl. You’ll make a wonderful wife to some fortunate gentleman.” She then hammered the point home. “I was just talking with Lady Bentley and she has invited us to watch the annual cricket game at Newton Hall next Saturday. Won’t that be splendid?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Only if Justus will be there.

  Bethany struggled to pay attention to her mother’s chatter, but her mind refused to cease incessantly wandering to the subject of a certain red-haired rake. A rake who possessed an incredible talent in kissing and impeccable taste in literature. How kind he was to have loaned her a book. She must endeavor to return the favor.

  She’d read The Italian by Ann Radcliffe on the carriage ride to Rochester and quite enjoyed it. Gothic stories were nearly as engrossing as medieval tales. Perhaps Justus would like it. Unless he was the sort who refused to read novels written by women. No, those men never deigned to discuss novels with women, much less debutantes such as herself.

  Yet Justus was different. He expressed concern and interest in her literary opinions.

  As the guests watched the illuminations, Bethany searched the throng for Justus, but she didn’t spot him until she and her parents were departing for the evening. Tamping down regret that she didn’t have the opportunity to speak with him before leaving, she basked in the secret smile he cast her way.

  The remainder of the night and next day, Bethany searched her book collection for a novel to loan him, and then spent hours sifting through her wardrobe for something to wear when he came to call on her.

  By the time morning visiting hours were officially underway, Bethany had to invoke every ounce of her fortitude to avoid dashing to the window every time she heard a carriage roll up the drive.

  A few matrons called upon her mother, and even a few gentleman. One that looked too young to shave, the other older than her father. Their elderly neighbor, Lord Tench even stopped by for a visit.

  Justus never came.

  A lump rose to her throat. She’d been so certain that there was something special between them. Apparently, she was wrong. Their kiss had been nothing but a diversion to him.

  Pleading a headache, Bethany remained in her room for the rest of the evening, vowing to give Lord de Wynter the cut direct next time she saw him.

  Chapter Seven

  Justus winced as Bethany looked pointedly away from him at the Haverly musicale. For two nights he’d been seeking her out, and now that he found her, she cut him.

  He’d done something to hurt her, but it took him a moment to discern what. Interactions with debutantes was not his strong suit. Bloody hell… He nearly clapped his palm over his face at his stupidity. She was a debutante.

  Likely after having time to reflect, she now thought him ungentlemanly for kissing her in the Willoughbys’ garden.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Luring her anywhere private was improper of him. One misstep, or even a spark of suspicion from another, and Bethany could be ruined. No wonder she was now avoiding him.

  Guilt pervaded his being. He needed to apologize, to promise that he’d never do anything that could tarnish her reputation again.

  Just as he started forward, a hand grasped his shoulder. Justus swiveled around to see the Lord Vampire of Rochester glaring at him.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Gavin demanded, eyes narrowed.

  “I… ah.” Justus cleared his throat and tried to think of a satisfactory response.

  “Don’t bother prevaricating, or worse, lying to me.” The Baron of Darkwood spoke through clenched teeth fixed in a false smile to detract from suspicious eyes. “You’ve been sniffing around the Mead chit like a stag in the rut.”

  Justus cringed at such crude phrasing applying to Bethany. “I’m not sniffing. She has an interest in Medieval literature. I merely loaned her a novel and we’ve been discussing the tale.”

  “See to it that discussion is all you engage in,” Gavin bit out. “Or better yet, find someone less conspicuous to prattle with about your hobby. Although I’ve lectured countless younglings about the hazards of associating with mortal maidens, I never imagined that I’d have to warn my own second in command.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Justus bowed before hastening away from his master. It wouldn’t do to linger around Gavin when he was in a foul mood. Especially when Justus had to bite his tongue to refrain from objecting to such a high-handed scolding. And he wondered what sort of creature had crawled up Gavin’s trousers to make him more disagreeable than usual.

  He wasn’t a youngling. He knew very well that one must maintain discretion when interacting with mortals. And it wasn’t as if he were courting Bethany, or showing her his fangs.

  His memory flew back to that night in the Willoughbys’ garden, the feel of her warm and yielding body in his arms, the taste of her kiss, the way she’d gasped when he’d pressed his lips to the tender flesh of her neck. The temptation to sink his fangs into her pulsing vein for a taste.

  He bit back a groan as his body responded with arousal.

  Perhaps Gavin did have cause for concern. Justus couldn’t deny that he was maddeningly attracted to the young woman. Yet even deeper than a physical response was a feeling of kinship with her.

  Although Justus could restrain his lust, he could not bear to sever their friendship. A friendship that would die if he did not do the decent thing and apologize for his ungentlemanly behavior the other day. Gavin may prefer that Bethany maintain her icy distance from him, but Justus did not. Only after only two nights of not seeing her, he felt bereft without her presence. And the thought of any contention between them was intolerable.

  After weaving through the manor for over a quarter hour searching for her, Justus finally spied her in the library. His lips curved in delight. He should have looked there first.

  “It’s unfortunate the Haverlys have such a poor collection,” he said aloud.

  She gasped and whirled around so fast that her skirts swept up to give h
im a teasing glimpse of her slim ankles, encased in cream-colored silk stockings.

  “Lord de Wynter,” she said coolly, bobbing him the slightest of curtsies. Yet the blush on her cheeks belied her chilly demeanor.

  He bowed low. “I want to apologize for my ungentlemanly actions at the Willoughby crush the other night.”

  A line formed between her golden brows. “And what actions were those?”

  “You are a maiden,” Justus said, trying not to dwell on the implications of that fact. “I never should have been alone with you. And I certainly never should have kissed you. It was unconscionable of me to put your reputation at risk.”

  Something resembling pain slashed across her delicate features before the corner of her mouth curved up in a crooked smile. “You are apologizing for being alone with me the other day, even as you are alone with me now.”

  The tightness in his chest eased at her teasing tone. Gathering every ounce of his innate charm, he grinned. “I cannot very well do so in front of a chaperone, lest our secret be out.”

  This time, she smiled at him in earnest. “I suppose you have a valid point, my lord.”

  “Justus,” he implored.

  Bethany raised a brow. “How can you speak of propriety and ask me to address you in such an intimate matter?”

  Because I love to hear my name on your lips, he longed to say, but that certainly wouldn’t do. Only contrition could repair things between them.

  “I’m sorry.” He bowed so low his long hair nearly grazed the Persian rug beneath his boots. “Now do I have your forgiveness for my indiscretion? I would very much like for us to remain friends.”

  Bethany sighed. “Of course I forgive you. I was not even vexed at you flouting propriety with me, for I confess I enjoyed it. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

  An invisible hand squeezed his heart. Dear God, why did she have to say that? “Then what was amiss?”

  The rosy flush imbued her face with a glow as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her pale green gown. “It was a silly, trifling fancy. Nothing to trouble you with.”

  “Bethany,” he said softly, crossing the room to stand inches from her. His gloved hand touched her cheek. “Friends are honest with one another.”

  For a moment she leaned into his touch, before drawing back against the bookcase. “I’d forgotten that you were a rake,” she whispered, her blush deepening.

  “I beg your pardon?” Indeed, Justus strove to maintain that reputation, but her referring to him as such stung a bit.

  “From what I was led to understand, something as, ah, affectionate as a kiss would indicate that a gentleman,” she stressed the word, “would have interest in paying a call to a lady the next day.” Her eyes widened and she shook her head quickly as if to placate him. “I don’t mean for a proposal, I never presumed that. Merely that I was taught that a kiss signified interest to further acquaintance.”

  Justus sucked in a breath as her meaning became clear. She’d thought that he would court her. Pity at her naivety warred with a terrifying realization: the idea of courting her was immensely appealing. For the first time in almost two centuries, he wished he was a mortal man so that he would be able to ride with her in the mornings, enjoy an outdoor luncheon with her in a dappled meadow, and see the sunlight glint on her golden hair.

  That longing, along with the tremulous hope in Bethany’s blue eyes made Justus toss aside all the caution he’d retained ever since he first became a vampire.

  “Bethany,” he whispered. “Please believe me when I say that if it were possible for me to pay you daytime calls, I swear would do so. I would love to ride with you in the mornings and discuss novels over afternoon tea, but I cannot.”

  “Why?” she asked, disappointment and confusion flitting across her face.

  “I cannot answer that. As it is, I’ve said too much.” Far too much. Gavin would kill him if he ever learned that Justus had plainly told a mortal that he could not be out during the day. Yet his fool mouth continued its dangerous course. “But I will endeavor to see you during the evenings whenever possible.”

  Bethany opened her mouth to reply, but Justus heard footsteps approaching the library. Quickly, he hid in a far corner of the room, lest she be discovered in the company of a man without a chaperone.

  “Bethany!” Lady Wickshire’s shrill voice rang out. “I should have known I would find you in here. Why must you persist in burying your nose in these mouldering books when there are eligible gentlemen to be caught? You know how your father disapproves of your obsession.”

  Justus bit back a growl, whether at Bethany’s mother’s derisive words to treasured books, or the thought of Bethany being used as a lure for titled men, he did not know. The latter was illogical as it had always been thus with gently born females, yet he was quickly developing a distaste for the custom.

  “I apologize, Mother.” Bethany’s sullen tone made Justus want to pull her into his arms and soothe her. “I was feeling overheated and thought it wise to remain out of sight so as not to put off the gentlemen with my appearance. Besides,” a hint of mirth laced her voice, “This is a poor collection, though I’d never dare tell the Haverlys.”

  “Oh dear,” Lady Mead sounded immediately contrite. “That is quick thinking of you after all.” Justus peeked to see Bethany’s mother press a gloved hand to her cheek. “You do appear to be flushed. I do hope you are not falling ill. But you had that headache yesterday evening and…” Lady Mead wrung her gloved hands. “Perhaps we should depart early and send for the doctor. Your father is growing worried of your health of late.”

  “No!” Bethany said sharply. “That is, I am feeling much better. The headache is gone. I only overexerted myself taking turns around the room.”

  Justus raised a brow. He didn’t smell any illness on Bethany. Had she feigned her malady to avoid seeing him last night, or was it because his failure to pay her a call had made her that distraught? Remorse cascaded over his heart. He never wanted to cause her pain.

  Lady Wickshire’s voice made him draw back before he was seen. “Very well. Let us return to the gathering. Lord Willoughby’s heir was looking quite alone last I saw him.”

  As their footsteps faded away, Justus gnashed his fangs. The Willoughby lad could stuff it. He hadn’t restored Bethany’s esteem only for her to waste the evening discussing the weather with milksop boys and lecherous widowers.

  Withdrawing from the library, he worked to contrive a way to spend some time at her side without drawing censure from society, or his Lord Vampire.

  ***

  The next twelve nights were a juxtaposition of euphoria and despair for Justus. He saw Bethany as often as possible, but between his day rest, his duties as second in command to the Lord Vampire, and of course, avoiding scrutiny from both the ton and the Rochester vampires, his time with Bethany was dismally meager.

  Yet he treasured every moment he had with her all the more, participating in the contradances and quadrilles just to spend a few moments dancing with her before she was passed to the next partner. He longed to waltz with her, but that would draw too much attention. As it was, too often did they get caught up in their latest literary discussion, causing a few raised eyebrows unless others were included. Others that were definitely not desired. He’d seen Lord and Lady Wickshire casting glares at him frequently.

  Still, the books they exchanged somewhat eased Justus’s loneliness. Every morning when he retired for the day, Justus would light a candle and read the latest volume that Bethany thought he’d enjoy. Her scent clung to each page, often distracting him from the story. He wondered if she could detect his scent on the books he loaned her. Likely not, as she was a human.

  Not for the first time, he wondered what sort of vampire Bethany would make. She was certainly brave and intelligent enough to be able to navigate through Society undetected, and her beauty would be an asset when she hunted. Yet would the prospect of drinking blood and sacrificing the sun for immortality appeal to her
?

  There was no way to know without breaking one of the cardinal rules of their kind: never reveal oneself to a mortal unless they were to be Changed. The quandary was enough to make him want to scream. He longed to explain why he couldn’t call upon her or even court her, and why they had to be so discreet with their interactions. The sadness in her eyes when he told he was unable to see her some evenings speared him, for he could not tell her of his duties.

  And, of course, there were other vexing matters. As he observed a few men giving Bethany lustful looks, Justus longed to tear their throats out and announce to the world that she was his. Almost as unnerving was the thought of the other Rochester vampires feeding on her. True, only Gavin and Benson, the third in command, were the only vampires aside from Justus who circulated among Society, but they all regularly fed upon the ton. Justus ground his teeth in impotent frustration. It sickened him to imagine Gavin sinking his fangs into Bethany’s throat, yet how could Justus presume to tell his lord who to bite?

  If only he could Mark her. That would prevent any other vampire from touching her. Yet if he did that, he’d be alerting Gavin to the fact that he’d disobeyed his order to lessen his involvement with Bethany.

  Justus’s fury came to a head one night when he was abruptly ordered to leave a soiree to help Benson chase down a rogue who’d been encroaching on Rochester’s territory. Infuriated that he’d been pulled from a deep discussion with Bethany, Justus had lost his temper and killed the rogue by driving a tree branch through his heart. Normally Gavin preferred for rogues to be brought in for a trial, but the bleeding sod had vexed him by fighting.

  The Lord of Rochester would be annoyed, but Justus had hope that he’d be able to pass off self-defense as an excuse. Still self-loathing filled him at his loss of self-control and he hoped the rogue had at least been of the evil sort, rather than one who’d been exiled for a stupid mistake.

  When Justus made it back to the party, he looked so disheveled that Bethany’s eyes had filled with worry. Hopefully she didn’t think he’d been dallying with another woman. Something in his expression must have put her at ease, for with an impish smile, she lured him away to the conservatory.