Bitten Too

by Violet Heart

  He focused on his anger. He needed a plan, but he couldn't think. His thoughts refused to break free of his afternoon encounter with Yasmine Hanswald. He gave his head a vigorous shake. How long until his younger sister begged for his return, or his sickly uncle's health failed altogether? How long until his aunt realized his intent for revenge?

  Orchid and Queen Anne's lace reached his senses on a dancing breeze. He instantly perked. Yasmine. He peered over a cluster of brush. The beautiful human dressed all in white picked her way through gravel as she followed her parents toward a carriage waiting in a line.

  Yasmine Hanswald's visit to the castle meant she was a human friend to Malveaux royalty. Now here was something he could use.

  Staying in darkness, he followed the carriage to her home – a four-story brownstone set at the edge of town and within view of the village church. The property displayed every element of a gentleman's home - a stable, sizeable storage house, carriage house, rolling lawn in front and a decent garden at the back.

  He clung to shadows alongside the house while a footman opened the carriage door and lowered a set of steps. The front door opened, spilling golden light onto the bare dirt drive, and her parents exited the carriage. In conversation, the two slowly made their way to the house.

  Yasmine's pale, elegant hand emerged from the shadows to alight on the footman's gray liveried arm. A bit of slender ankle showed as her white slipper went to the first step. Then her face appeared, beautiful and serene.

  Her lovely countenance did something to him. Stirred a hunger in him he didn't understand. Didn't trust.

  She hesitated then glanced his way. Did she sense him? But how? Her lips parted, and her head tilted as if she listened.

  You know I’m here. He showed his face at the house's corner, but immediately backed into shadow once more. She stood still, staring at the corner of the house where he waited. The footman climbed onto the back of the conveyance, and the carriage rolled away.

  "Yasmine, darling," said her mother from the open doorway, "aren't you coming?"

  She didn't take her eyes from where he stood. "Not yet. I'd like to take some air in the garden."

  As her father went inside, tiny charges of anticipation raced along Jorge’s skin.

  "That's fine, sweetheart," said her mother. "I'll send Trudi out to keep you company."

  "Don't wake my maid. I'll only be a few minutes. I'll wake her when I come in." Yasmine took a step closer.

  Jorge's heart leapt, and he inhaled a sharp breath infused with the scent of her. He slowly backed to the rear of the house, willing her to follow. Yellow light from two windows cast enough illumination into the garden to cast plant-shaped shadows across stone walkways. As the two women exchanged a couple more words, he moved to a thick tree and leaned against its trunk. He crossed his arms and settled a knee against a marble bench.

  "Lord Grauwolf?" she whispered, entering through an opening in the garden's wall.

  He cleared his throat.

  She stopped short. "What are you doing here?" she snapped in a whisper.

  Her ire brushed a wave of heat along the fine hairs of his face. "I came to see you." He feigned a bored expression, though she had every nerve in his body on edge.

  Taking two steps closer, she planted her hands on her narrow waist and frowned. "At this hour? What are you thinking to come here at such a time? I told you I can't see you." She turned on the toe of her dainty slipper.

  He came off the tree in an instant. Three bounds had him blocking her escape. "A moment, my lady."

  Her frown deepened to a scowl. "A moment for what?"

  Not an ounce of fear radiated from her. She was all indignation and innocent purity, which threatened to undo him. Before he knew what he wanted, he took her by the hips and drew her against him. Her breasts pressed full and firm against his chest, her breath sweet and warm on his cheek, his throat. She gripped graceful fingers on his shoulders for balance.

  "What—"

  He claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss. He skimmed his hand to the small of her back and brought her closer yet. She stiffened, but when he moved his lips against hers, she yielded.

  Her gentle sigh made him harden. Though he'd sensed sexual tension in her at his aunt's mansion, her quick acquiescence amazed him. He'd tried to dismiss her responsiveness as mistaking his own, but her reaction told him she wanted this as much as he did.

  He added pressure, and she opened. Pleased, he sent his tongue against hers. She tasted of champagne and sweetened cream. He wanted to devour her, but not in the destructive sense he normally fought when around humans. No, she fed something else in him. She stirred a need he hadn't yet experienced. A need for connection. A need to mate.

  Her smooth hands went from his shoulders to his neck. Her fingers slid into his hair. A quiet groan sounded in her throat. Then she shoved at him and stumbled backward. Her lips moist and kiss-swollen and her eyes wonderfully sleepy, she blinked rapidly.

  "We're not done," he said, his voice deep and rough with mounting arousal. He took a step and reached for her hand.

  She retreated, shaking her head. "You're dangerous, just like your brother."

  Her words hit him like a slap. He gave his head a shake. He recovered too late to stop her. She escaped into the house through a rear door.

  Chapter Three

  Yasmine raced upstairs and into her room. She quietly closed her door and leaned against it. What just happened? He'd kissed her, and she'd let him. No, she'd kissed him back. "I'm going out of my mind," she whispered.

  Heat blossomed in her chest and rode a wave up her throat into her face. She had to get out of her eveningwear before she swooned. Unable to unfasten the hooks up her back, she glanced at the door leading to her closet and Trudi's quarters beyond. The heat grew, however, and her breath seized.

  Air. I need air. She moved to the window and flung it open, thrusting her face into the night. Cool air helped. Still, her head swam. She ducked inside and backed to the bed then flopped. Jorge Grauwolf, what have you done to me? She put a hand to her chest and took breaths as deep as her corset would allow. It wasn't enough. Her vision went weak, causing the canopy over her bed to waver.

  "Allow me," said the one person who could only make her situation worse.

  She lifted her head from her bed's counterpane. He stood in her room by the open window. He'd removed his coat and vest, and his cambric shirt gaped to reveal his tanned, bared chest. A halo surrounded him, and she fought for breath as darkness began closing in.

  "I can't—" She gasped.

  He came to her in an instant. His large hands took her shoulders and rolled her. Sure fingers went to work on the hooks of her gown. In seconds, he had the stays of her corset loosened.

  She fisted the bedspread and sucked a gulping breath. The room came into clear view. Bending her chin to her chest, she inhaled deeply until her head stopped spinning.

  "Did Youel touch you?" he asked, his words clipped but quiet. "Is that why you said my brother was dangerous?"

  "Absolutely not. What a question." She pushed against the counterpane, but her arms buckled.

  The mattress sagged, and his cool fingers curved across the nape of her neck.

  "How dare you?" she whispered, appalled by both her weakness and his audacity.

  "How dare I come to your aide?" Humor laced his tone.

  He was a rake. Only a libertine would steal, uninvited, into a lady's bedroom in the middle of the night. And where was his anger from a second ago? "You may be a nobleman, but you're no gentleman." She slapped at his hand and found the strength to push to a sitting position. "Get out."

  "Ungrateful chit." Not a bit of irritation joined his words. He actually sounded amused.

  A flame flared in her belly, and she dared her first real look at him tonight. Laughter danced in his silver eyes. His black hair had come loose from its tie and reflected her gas lighting with a crisp sheen. His skin stretched taut across thick muscle and contrasted wit
h the pristine white of his shirt. Jorge was the image of male beauty unlike anything she'd ever seen.

  And what did she look like? Her pristine gown wilted at shoulders and bodice. She'd just about fainted, which meant she likely had not a bit of color in her face. She put a hand to her hair and swallowed a moan of dismay to find it listing to the right. She had no choice, and pulled out two long pins. Her curls fell where they may.

  He licked lips shaped like an archer's bow. "I don't believe I've ever seen anything as gorgeous as you right now."

  A rush of wicked excitement set her heart to pounding. You're handsome and arrogant and alone with me on my bed. "Get out." Somehow, she didn't mean the words quite as much this time.

  He slid a finger into her sleeve and drew it downward, baring her shoulder.

  She clenched her teeth against an indignant cry. The last thing she needed was Trudi waking to find a man in her room. "Jorge Grauwolf," she managed in a breathy voice. She clutched her bodice and made to stand. Halfway up, her brain lost focus and her knees gave out. She collapsed…into his arms.

  He spread his thighs, settling her hips between. His fingertips found her thin silk chemise under the untied stays of her corset and wreaked havoc with her senses. He put warm lips to her ear and whispered, "You stir my appetite more than any succulent morsel that has ever tempted me."

  She inhaled sharply and tried not to imagine what he had in mind. Tried not to picture lying beneath him as she had so many times in her dreams.

  "I prefer your hair like this," he said, his voice deep and resonant. He fingered a curl, drew the tendril over her shoulder and brought it to rest along the upper swell of her breast. He grazed the back of his finger along the inner curve, dipping into her cleavage. Her nipples hardened.

  She met his gaze. She wanted to demand once more that he get out, but she'd lost the ability to speak. No doubt about it, he was dangerous. Yet she burned for him. He offered a heat of passion no other man of her acquaintance could. "Jorge," she forced past a throat gone tight.

  His hot mouth took hers in a searing kiss, his tongue invading in a sensual aggression that robbed her of thought. Hairs stood on end along her arms, which she wrapped around his broad shoulders. This had to stop, but desire rendered her powerless.

  His fingers slid down her chemise-clad spine into the skirt of her gown to rub sensually along the upper cleft of her derriere. She moaned.

  Dragging his lips from hers to trail her cheek to her ear, he said in a thick voice, "You're all that's lovely and pure, and I can't help myself."

  She hugged him as if she was overboard in the middle of the sea and he was a plank of wood. She angled her nose into his hair. "If I’m so pure, how come I'm kissing you? How come I'm on your lap, alone in my bedroom? Why aren't I screaming the roof down?" She closed her eyes. His scent of soap and cologne enveloped her.

  "Because I'm everything you're not." His hand shifted at her bodice, moving fully into her corset to cup her breast. He sent his thumb across her erect nipple.

  She gasped. An ache pulled inside her belly, and the folds between her thighs tingled.

  "Because I'm dark where you're light," he said. "I'm bad where you're good. I'm hard where you're soft."

  She slid a hand from his back to his bare chest. He was firm muscle, and tight, warm skin. "I didn't invite you." She drew an unsteady breath.

  He eased her backward. She splayed her hands, not wanting to fall from his lap, but he had her firmly in hand. His sculpted lips went to the upper swells of her breasts. Forbidden pleasure strummed her taut nerves, thrilling her deep in her woman's core. Her nipples went even harder. Moisture seeped into her now throbbing crease.

  "Good God, Jorge," she whispered. "Please…" She started to ask him to stop, but she couldn't. He made her feel like a woman. Desirable. Alive. This felt right.

  "I won't apologize." His feverish eyes held her gaze for a moment, the gray fairly smoldering. "You're the most goodly, most decent gentlewoman I've met in my sad life. But I can't resist you."

  Goodly? Decent? She'd never behaved more wantonly. "You're a man without morals," she accused.

  His lips curved, revealing square, white teeth. "Don't you forget that." He hooked his fingers into her neckline and brought her corset's top edge below her breasts. His beautiful mouth opened over a straining nipple.

  Her head fell back as a sharp stab of pleasure sliced through her swelling, pulsing crease. She drew a breath between parted lips and closed her eyes.

  He sucked upon her, nibbled and licked her, drawing a whimper of surrender from deep within her.

  Jorge. His named echoed in her mind. Jorge.

  He released her breast and sent hot, nipping kisses up her throat. "Tell me you want me as badly as I want you."

  I want you so badly, my heart breaks. "Please, Jorge. I can't. Don't…"

  He kissed the curve of her ear then hugged her close. Her breasts pressed against his chest, skin to skin. She wanted all of him. Wanted him completely naked, his strong body stretching atop her.

  "You have to go." Before I'm unable to let you. Before I disgrace my family and myself more than I already have tonight.

  "Yasmine."

  She grasped the last vestige of thought left. "You spoke as if you value my virtue. Are you such a blackguard that you'd cause me ruination and dishonor?"

  He hugged her tighter and pressed his lips against her throat. "No," he said against her skin.

  "Then go."

  He loosened his hold and pulled her bodice over her breasts. Setting her next to him on the bed, he stared at her. "You're so beautiful. You overwhelm me."

  "Go," she whispered, afraid if he said another word, she'd beg him to take her.

  He stood and went to the window. Glancing at her over his wide shoulder, he said, "I'll call on you tomorrow."

  "I don't want to see you." She closed her eyes against the lie.

  "Tomorrow then. At a more appropriate hour."

  When she opened her eyes, he'd gone.

  * * * *

  In the small parlor at the back of her father's house, Yasmine set aside her needlepoint. She stood and walked to the end of the room and back to the loveseat. How could she face Jorge after her behavior last night? He'd promised to call, and she sensed he always kept his promises. She paced another circuit.

  "Dear, what's troubling you?" asked her mother from a comfortable chair.

  "Nervous energy. I didn't sleep well." I didn't sleep at all.

  "Why don't you call on Amelia in a little while? I'm sure she has gossip to share after last night's party."

  Brilliant. If Yasmine had already gone when Jorge arrived, she might avoid him completely. "A good idea, Mother. A visit would be just the thing."

  In the foyer, she rang for the butler then retrieved her bonnet from a peg in the cloak closet.

  "My lady," said the butler with a slight bow.

  "Oh, good. You were close, Jaspins. I'm going out. Would you be so kind as to order around one of the carriages?" She tied her bonnet's ribbon under her chin.

  "Of course, my lady." He bowed and turned on his heel.

  I have to get out of here. Jorge could come any minute. She imagined she sensed his approach. Her fingers fumbled on her cloak, and she dropped it.

  "Are you sure you're all right, Yasmine?" asked her mother, coming down the hallway from the parlor.

  "Why? Because I dropped my cloak?" She retrieved it and sent the heavy material around her shoulders.

  Her mother folded her hands together. "More to do with the fact that you're planning to wear a cloak at all. My dear, it must be close to eighty degrees. You'll swelter."

  Yasmine glanced out a window at the sunny driveway. "Right." She removed her wrap and returned it to the closet. "I really am fine."

  "I wonder if you might benefit more from a nap. It's a bit early for calling."

  And have Jorge come to me in my room again? Her hands shook at the idea. "I can't." She swallowed. "I mean,
I wouldn't sleep. Why waste my time trying?"

  Wheels crunched, and Jaspins strode from the back hallway. "Your carriage, my lady." He slowly marched to the front door and opened it.

  "Don't count on me for luncheon, Mother," she said, hurrying to escape. "I'll likely eat at the Malveaux's."

  Her mother gave a little wave. A bemused half-smile lifted the right side of her face.

  Yasmine didn't wait to learn if she had anything to add. She forced her feet to a stately pace down the steps and toward the carriage. The front door closed. As she grasped her skirt with anxious fingers and lifted a foot to the carriage's step, horse hooves sounded on the lane leading to her house.

  She didn't need to peek. Somehow, she sensed Jorge’s eyes on her. She sighed and lowered her foot to the gravel. She'd only appear desperate if she tried to run.

  His horse clattered onto the drive, and Yasmine pasted a polite smile into place. "Good morning, Lord Grauwolf."

  "Miss Hanswald," he said, tipping his hat. "I see I've caught you on your way out." He brought his mount to a halt.

  "Yes, unfortunately." Her stomach clenched. "I'm sorry about it. I know you'd hoped for a visit this morning."

  "Another time, perhaps." His eyes narrowed, dark and predatory beneath his brow.

  "Perhaps," she agreed, offering a reluctant nod.

  "I suppose I should call on Lord and Lady Malveaux. My aunt's been urging me to pay my respects while I'm in town."

  She froze.

  "Awkward, really," he said, his tone casual and in contrast to his intense expression. "After the death of Youel, I mean. What's to be said?"

  He'd outmaneuvered her, damn the man. If she went to see Amelia, she'd be rude for not offering to travel together. If she stayed home, she'd appear rude for not asking him in for their visit. She had nowhere to go. Lady Grauwolf's mansion was absolutely out of the question.

  She fisted his hands in her skirt. "What a coincidence," she said, somehow able to sound light and friendly. "I'm just headed there myself."

  In an instant, he swung off his horse. "In that case, let me offer my company." He handed his reins to the groom. "I can come back for my horse later."