by Claudy Conn
“Walk him a bit for me, lad, and have someone saddle up your mistress’s steed. With any good luck we should be out here again shortly.”
“If it’s luck ye be wantin’, well then oi be wishing it for ye, and that’s the truth of it, m’lord.”
Talbot’s eyes twinkled as he flipped the urchin a coin. A moment later he was taking the stone steps two by two to Squire Reigate’s ample front doors, where the Reigates’ long-established and formidable butler met him. In fact, Talbot still held the knocker in his kid-gloved hand as the door started to open; he grinned appreciatively.
Kettles (the staid butler) held the door open wide and displayed an acceptable hint of a smile as he informed his lordship that the squire was not at home.
Julian Talbot dropped his hat, gloves, and heavily tiered riding coat into Kettle’s waiting arms with a wink. “No? By Jove, fancy that! But then, it isn’t the squire I am here to see.”
Kettles rarely betrayed his emotions. He was extremely proud of his station in life and knew well the obligations of his position. However, he had watched his little mistress grow up, and he absolutely adored her. Thus, a smile in his faded eyes betrayed his pleasure. “Just so, m’lord. I will show you into the library, where Miss is busy about some work or—”
“Ah, but, Kettles…” declared his lordship, cutting him off, “I know the way.” With that Julian strode forward confidently towards his goal. He was a happy man with his future all before him.
She sat sprawled on the floor, heedless of her fashionable yellow gown and looking much like a hoyden. She was attempting to concentrate on the novel she had picked to read. Julian, Julian, Julian was all she could think. Where are you, Julian? You are late. Are you safe? Oh, Julian love…
Julian opened the library door quietly and watched her a moment. She was the most precious thing in his life. In a few quick, easy strides he had crossed the room’s dark Oriental rug and came to stand before her.
Maxie was flat on her belly and at first saw his legs before following this path up further to his crotch. More often than not she had been wondering just what it was going to be like to get her fingers around what was hidden there.
She said his name as she jumped to her feet, and then she screeched with delight. Her silk skirts flounced in the air as he took her up and into his arms and laughingly declared, “And now my day is finally made! Have you a warm welcome kiss for me, Maxie-girl?”
Maxine Reigate was a petite young woman with black, gleaming ringlets and twinkling green eyes. She was considered to be a refreshing beauty amongst the Haute Ton of London. However, it had been more than her beauty that had won the experienced, nearly jaded heart of Julian, Lord of Talbot.
Without a word, he found that she did indeed have a most welcoming and enthusiastic kiss for him. He was hungry all at once. He couldn’t stop himself as he had so many other times before, as decorum insisted. No, this time his tongue found its way all on its own and teased a response from her. He tasted her, letting her have a taste of him as he pressed her body closely up against himself. Damn, the wedding was too far off…
A moment later he was setting her on her feet and putting an arm between them. She pouted at him. “What, my lord, are you doing …?” She moved his hand away from her shoulder with a shrug and pressed up against him again.
“No … no…minx! This won’t do.”
“You started it…” she teased.
“Indeed…which gives me the right to put a stop to it as well!”
“Very well, so be it. Then instead, you may tell me just where you have been. I have been waiting hours and hours for you. I think myself very ill-used, my lord.” Her green eyes flashed playfully.
“Ah, if I have kept my love waiting I must be no more than a lowly cad.” He hung his head, but his eyes twinkled as he brought his glance to her reproving glare.
“Fie! Fie on you! You mock me, my buck, and I shall have none of it.” She giggled and then said, “Why, why have I been waiting all day when your letter said you would be here by noon?”
“Business, pet. The estates were in need of updating with my man…it took longer than I expected.” He glanced over at the Quarterly Review and noted that it contained a scathing review of Lord Byron. His brow went up before he looked away and added, “There are things that need to be done and put in order if we are to take that extended honeymoon of ours.” He pinched her chin. “In fact, after these last few days, you should dole out some pity on me, for I am being grossly taxed…”
She released a full-throttled giggle. “Oh, poor, dear love. Dull work, I know, and there are other more enjoyable things you could be doing…” She gave him a saucy look, and he pinched her cheek.
“Duty, beloved, and…” he whispered, his blue eyes were lit with dark sparks. He held her captive in his embrace, and his voice was husky with desire. “I must ensure the riches you are accustomed to enjoying.”
She gave him a hearty slap to his upper arm. “Rapper! As though I give a fig for such things!” She frowned then. “Duty, however, is quite another thing, isn’t it? I mean, so many people depend on you to manage their land so they can make their living. All your farmers and—”
“And kiss me again, minx…” What the hell was he doing, he asked himself. He had to get control, and yet, here he was taking her into his arms to kiss her once more.
However, this second kiss eluded him as Maxine’s mother entered the room noisily at that moment and fondly cleared her throat. “Engaged you two may be, but not, my dears, yet married.”
His lordship laughed and took Maxie’s arm as he moved forward and bent over his future mother-in-law’s hand. “Well met, ma’am, and may I say you are looking as lovely as ever.”
“Scamp!” Mrs. Reigate smiled as she moved to the yellow winged ladies’ chair and took her position. “Now, sit and tell us your news. I will ring for coffee.”
“Dare I refuse, when I need to ask you a favor?” His lordship eyed her hopefully, and his charm filled the room.
“Ah.” Mrs. Reigate silently thought his winning smile irresistible. “What then, my lord?”
“While we still have some day left, I thought I would steal your daughter for a short while so we might enjoy a little riding jaunt through the fields.”
Mrs. Reigate knew her daughter had been itching to ride all day but had refrained from doing so while she waited for his lordship’s arrival. She smiled to herself as she looked from one to the other. They were perfect for one another. She was also cognizant of the undeniable fact that when Lord Julian Talbot had asked for Maxine’s hand in marriage a month ago, her daughter had not only made the match of the season, but of the decade! In any event, she was a doting and indulgent parent and didn’t see the harm in his request.
She smiled ruefully as she said, “Very well—a quick jaunt…home before dark.”
Maxine laughed and dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek. She was in high spirits and ran with childlike happiness for the door, blowing a kiss to Julian and exclaiming with glee, “I’ll throw on my riding habit in less than ten minutes, see if I don’t! Time me…I shall be true to my word.”
His lordship laughed out loud. He had never known a woman who could change her clothes in ten minutes. He called after her, “The wonder of it is you are a speedy little monkey. Go on then, girl, for I do mean to time you.”
Mrs. Reigate smiled and watch her daughter bounce off before she turned to ask his lordship, “What news have you of Wellington? Everyone is still crying over our terrible casualties at Waterloo. ’Tis heart-wrenching.”
“Indeed, and in such a contrast to the wild frivolity that commanded Brussels only days before the battle.” His lordship had spent two weeks in Brussels. He had only just become engaged to Maxine when the Home Office had entrusted him with a secret errand. That accomplished, he had returned to London only days before Wellington met Napoleon at Waterloo. Now, it was all so cuttingly fresh in his mind.
Mrs. Reigate reached
out for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I am sorry for your loss…I know that you and Colonel Reynolds were dear friends…”
“Thank you, yes…” It was all he could say. He and Tom had been at Eton and then at Cambridge together. Tom would have been his best man at his upcoming wedding.
It seemed only a moment or so had passed when Maxine entered the room with a gleeful, “Ta da! Less than ten minutes!”
Fiancé and mother looked at her and broke out laughing. She certainly had changed into a stunning royal blue velvet riding habit, but the matching top hat was on askew, and her jacket was not buttoned correctly. She stole his lordship’s heart all over again. She was everything he had ever wanted.
Her mother went about the business of tidying her up before his lordship took her light kid-gloved fingers to his lips and whispered, “Are you mine? Are you really mine?”
She looked up at him provocatively and replied, “Not yet, my lord…not quite yet…”
“Why you naughty minx!” He chuckled and wanted to crush her in his arms but restrained himself, as he was fully aware that her mother’s eyebrow was already up.
“Go on then…and remember I would like you back, my darlings, before dark…I don’t know what it is, but…something has had me on edge. I suppose it is just that I would like you home when the squire returns.”
*
She went to the large panoramic window they had installed just the year before and watched them mount their horses. She was being foolish, of course, but she couldn’t shake the notion that something felt off. It was as though something watched them from afar; the atmosphere around her daughter didn’t feel right. She felt a threat in the air, and although she swept it away, telling herself she was foolish, her better sense knew better. She had reason to trust her instincts…
However, she had nothing concrete to go on. She shook her head; she was just being fanciful. Maxie was with his lordship. A voice in her head, however, whispered that, even so, Maxie was in danger. A dark cloud hovered over her lovely child, and it was sparked by venom. Such a thought shocked her, and she hastily brushed it aside. It was all nonsense. Her mind was just playing tricks on her heart. That was all.
What else could it possibly be? Something cackled in her brain, and that awful whisper lingered in the air, telling her to take her Maxie and run…
Here’s a sneak preview of Claudy Conn’s newest steamy series:
ShadowLife—Hybrid
Prelude
Present day
Grampian Mountains, Scottish Highlands
HE FEELS THE weight of his tongue hanging hot and wet between his sharp canines, teeth that can crush through a man’s bones, as he races with precision through the trees. The wolf in him takes the scent from the earth and then lifts his head to the breeze to confirm the distance—a wolf can detect its prey in this manner almost two miles away.
The cold wind whips at his thick and beautiful black fur; he loves the sensation it tracks through his body. The last of the winter snow is beginning to melt beneath his huge paws, and he revels in the freedom of the run.
He is at home in these woods. The scent of the sweet-smelling tall pines mingled with the rays of the new morning’s sun has a soothing effect on his frazzled nerves—as does the hunt. He has abstained long enough.
The early scent of spring fills his nostrils as he reaches the precipice where he can look over his valley. There he shifts into human and lands naked on two feet.
He stands a huge, muscular man, with his black, shiny hair blowing freely in the morning breeze. The intricate tattoos on his chest and arms catch the sun’s rays as his muscles flex and he raises his head to catch the scent of the deer off the wind, the old stag he has been tracking. His cock is at full attention from the excitement of the hunt.
These woods have belonged to his family for centuries—MacAdams’ Foothills they are called. He and his father, nearly lost to him, are the last of his clan. They are neither man, wolf, or vampire, but all three.
*
He was alone and apart from all but at peace in his solitary existence. He was alone by his own will, alone because society and humans no longer appealed, alone after the murder of his dear mother.
He hadn’t even bothered going into the village for more than a few errands: mail, supplies … now and then a piece of ass. And today that particular craving made him feel heady. He needed a woman, and the need was pushing him in that direction, if only for a night, perhaps this night? He thought of Anna—a pliable and alluring playmate, ever ready and willing and nearly (though not quite) able to satisfy his unrelenting lust.
He was a hybrid, able to change at will because he had been born that way centuries ago. Going wolf always cleared his head and heart, but feeding—that was quite another thing; he hadn’t fed in the wild for so long because, contrary to the wolf in him, the human detested killing.
He was immune to the weather’s biting cold against his skin. He could feel it, for it stayed cold in the Highlands until late spring, but it didn’t chill the human in him as he stood patiently awaiting the right moment, his heart pumping exuberantly with the thrill of the hunt.
He didn’t have to hunt, as he had a fully stocked cellar at his home, but the need—the almost overwhelming primal need—drove him at times like this.
He crunched for his lethal jump as he heard the old stag in the distance approach. He had chosen this particular buck because the twelve-pointer was aged and showing signs of decline. He would honor it by bringing its life full circle. He would make its death quick and purposeful. In spite of his reluctance to kill, he experienced pleasure in the act that was difficult to admit to himself, but it wasn’t for sport …
The stag had not picked up his scent and slowly wandered into range. The man transformed once more into wolf and waited with infinite patience. He wanted a clean kill, one that would be as painless as he could achieve.
All at once and with precision, he was on the stag, bringing him down. A wolf could overpower even something ten times its size. A hybrid had the strength of many wolves.
He made a quick, clean kill, tearing the stag’s throat to accomplish the kill in the instant.
He needed the fresh blood for the vampire so much a part of who he was, and he wanted the fresh raw meat for the wolf. The human honored the old stag with an ancient Indian prayer.
The human … Chase MacAdams was a hybrid extraordinaire, billionaire, and recluse, but he thought himself a pitiful being, alone and disillusioned with his lot in life. With all the power he held, with all the power his father held, they had not seen that his beautiful mother had a stalker and had been in mortal danger that fateful afternoon. They had arrived on the scene too late to save her. Her murderer had been an ancient force, one they had tracked until they hit a dead end. Her murderer had been the prime evil, Count Dracula. With all the blood force that beat in their broken hearts, Chase and his father meant to bide their time until they could annihilate him.
His mother had whispered in her last moments that she had not given up her dear friend’s secret. She had not told Dracula what he wanted to know …
And then she had closed her eyes, and his mother, who had been made a hybrid by his father and should have been invincible, died.
Dracula had used the only weapon that could kill an immortal hybrid. Chase had made up his mind that one day, someday, he would take that weapon and plunge it into Dracula’s eyes … first one and then the next.
Unable to locate Dracula, Chase’s father had gone off alone to grieve. Chase had remained at their home. Needing to escape from the misery of his disillusionment, the grief over his loss, and the guilt he felt about being unable to avenge his mother’s murder at Dracula’s hands, he’d retreated into seclusion. For the past year, his thoughts and heart treated each other with self-pity while he plotted a course to find and destroy the ancient immortal.
Chase MacAdams was powerful beyond measure and equipped with skills that made him far more deadl
y than his gentle mother. He was also a dissatisfied man and an alpha wolf in desperate need of something he could not, would not name to himself … a mate.
He had not in all his three hundred years imprinted on a female—and he had never really fallen in love.
He raised his head, and his dark gold wolf eyes surveyed the craggy hillside as he released a long, soulful howl, one picked up by a nearby pack of wolves and returned with encouragement. Wolves have a deep and caring social order, and he had been accepted by the local pack a very long time ago.
He fed now, fulfilling his physical needs, and left the remains for the stray wildlife that would surely visit when he was gone. Then he was moving again with grace and speed, a wolf reveling in the success of his hunt and the beauty of his forest.
In the distance he could see the ruins of Strathmore Castle, a local tourist haunt. Just below halfway down the foothill, not yet visible, stood his home, a mansion of stone and logs …
He was so tired of living this existence, for it was no more than that. He wanted more, but there never would be more for him. He could not allow himself to love, for no doubt she would be human and live a human life; when she discovered what he was, she would be repulsed.
Or just when he thought life had everything to offer with a mate in his arms, he would lose her as his father had lost his mate to some unexpected horror …
So Chase ran to escape his loneliness, but it was always there waiting for him, around the bend, in the mirror … in the family home that he loved …
And then he saw it—a strange car in the bluestone gravel courtyard of his mansion. Why was it there, and who was the beautiful, black-haired young woman knocking at his big oak front door …?
Prologue
HER LONG, SILKY black hair was a gift from her mother. In her stocking feet she stood at five-five, but with her heeled boots she was a good deal taller. She rubbed her cold hands against her jeans. She shouldn’t feel the cold … she wasn’t supposed to feel the cold, but somehow she did—perhaps it was because she had turned her back on what she was, suppressed everything she had inside into virtual non-existence.