Love. Her hands still rested in his. Ellie nibbled her lower lip and gazed back into his eyes.
Within days of meeting her, Cain was doing the one thing her own mother hadn’t done in over a century: voluntarily entrusting her with the truth and allowing her the right to weigh the evidence herself in order to make her own choices about her life.
Unfortunately, he was only in possession of half the evidence. As lovely a picture as his words had painted, Ellie was no longer a simple human girl, if she ever had been. And no matter how angry she was with her mother’s decisions, Mama was still the person Ellie cherished above all others. Mama’s life was inextricably tied to hers, and there was no way Ellie would allow either of them to face a vampire tribunal over a lovesick girl’s rash decision two centuries ago. They would slip through the night, as they’d always done. They would hide from hunters—from Cain—forever, if that was what it took. And none of them would ever go home.
“Tell me about Scotland,” she said, surprising herself as much as Cain with the change in topic. Scotland wasn’t home, she reminded herself sternly. She had never had one. She never would.
“Scotland is lovely,” he answered, his voice wistful. “The countryside is more beautiful than any other place in this world. The men are braw and true. The women are bonny and clever. The food is hearty and the ale even richer. The people are strong and proud. Proud of themselves, of the land, of each other.” He dropped his forehead onto her lap. She couldn’t help but brush her fingers over his hair. He didn’t stop her. “Everyone is happy there. I was happy there.” He lifted his head to favor her with a crooked smile. “I wish you could see it.”
She smiled back. “I wish I could see it the way you see it.”
“If I weren’t a . . . warrior,” he said, his smile fading, “I could take you there.”
Ellie was shocked to discover she wished he could, too. But he was never going to see his beloved country, since he was never going to capture her and her mother. Ellie tried to ignore the guilty pang caused by the realization, but it was no use. She hated to cause him pain. Which meant she was just as bad as her mother—developing feelings for exactly the wrong man.
He was handsome, strong, charismatic. Loyal to a fault. He liked her body and loved her brain. He respected her. He wanted her to be happy. . . .
And he was a vampire warrior planning to lead her mother to an unknown punishment. And he would undoubtedly abduct Ellie as well if he knew she was a forbidden mixed-blood abomination.
But he didn’t know. Not yet, anyway. And if she was addled enough to fall for someone honor-bound to hunt down her loved ones, well, that was her problem. She didn’t mind his mischievous run as the most infamous rake in ton history. She didn’t even mind that he was a vampire. If anything, now that her true nature had been revealed, she could scarcely fancy a human, anyway. But even more important than all those very logical truths was one very illogical fact: She was half in love and falling fast. And she was never going to see him again.
Ellie’s shoulders slumped. She’d never enjoyed running away. Although now that she knew the truth and couldn’t agree more with the rationale, her body and her heart still rejected the idea of leaving this man without a second thought. Without a second chance. If she was going to be on the run for the rest of her life, then she needed to make the most of this weekend.
She squeezed his hands. “May I beg a favor?”
He smiled. “Anything.”
“Wait until tomorrow.” Hope bloomed when he didn’t immediately respond. “Please,” she added for good measure.
His brows lifted, but his voice was good-humored as he said, “Why do I feel like this is a terrible idea?”
“Because it is,” Ellie answered honestly. “And so is the part where I come to your chamber after nightfall.”
He started. “When you what?”
She took a deep breath. “The house party is over tomorrow. Everyone will go his or her separate paths. If we are going to part ways forever, perhaps we can at least have tonight.”
Before he had a chance to respond, the music room door swung open, and Miss Breckenridge stepped inside.
“Get away from her!”
Cain dropped Ellie’s hands and sprang to his feet, but not before Miss Breckenridge landed a few good whacks with her parasol.
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” Sidestepping Miss Breckenridge’s attacks, he managed to trade places with her at the door and shoot Ellie a meaningful glance over Miss Breckenridge’s head. “I’ll be in the conservatory if you need me.”
“She won’t need you,” Miss Breckenridge shot back. She slammed the door in his face, then rushed to inspect Ellie’s neckline. “Are you all right? Did he bite you? What on earth possessed you to enter any room alone with him?”
“He didn’t bite me,” Ellie assured her, before her predilection for honesty forced her to add, “. . . on the neck.”
Miss Breckenridge stared at her in horror. “What? When? Are you a vampire, too? Oh, this is a horrible mess, a horrible, horrible—”
“Forget I said anything,” Ellie interrupted wearily, rubbing at her temples. “Forget anybody said anything about vampires in the first place.”
Blessed silence fell . . . until the noiselessness became more eerie than relaxing.
Ellie lifted her fingertips from her temples and glanced up at Miss Breckenridge, only to find her erstwhile benefactress staring blankly at nothing.
“Miss Breckenridge?”
With a start, her hostess snapped out of her fit. “Miss Ramsay! What are you doing in the music room? You should be abed. May I walk you to your chamber?”
Ellie stared at her for a moment before she realized she’d just Compelled her client to forget their entire agreement. Now she’d never earn those twenty pounds . . . and now she could better understand her mother.
Mama loved her, and Ellie hadn’t given her a chance to explain. Perhaps she’d never meant for Ellie to forget her father. Ellie sighed. Perhaps it happened in a moment too quick to have prevented. And once it was done, it was done, leaving her only with regret. And her daughter.
“I think you’re right.” Ellie rose from the bench to accept Miss Breckenridge’s arm. “I should love to return to my mother.”
Chapter Ten
A scant distance into the corridor, Ellie jarred to a halt. She held up a finger to a startled Miss Breckenridge. “Wait.”
There was no way she could return to her guest quarters. Mama would be waiting in her chamber. She would wish to finish their discussion. She would wish to explain. Perhaps to apologize, and perhaps not. But without question, she’d insist on running. Immediately.
Ellie could scarce deny the wisdom behind putting as much distance as possible between her outlaw mother and the clan hunter who sought them, but she was not quite ready to pack her bags. She had told Cain she would meet him tonight, and she meant to. Yearned to. Needed to.
He truly cared for her, and she him, star-crossed though they might be. He had answers her mother had not shared. He also had expressive eyes, strong arms, and kisses that set her half-blood heart spinning.
That she would never see him again went without saying. After coming so close to capture, they could never again risk so much as a nodding acquaintance with their new neighbors, wherever they landed next . . . much less house parties or dancing or a beau who stole kisses amongst the flowers.
But they hadn’t left yet.
“What’s wrong?” Miss Breckenridge cocked her head quizzically. “Have you the headache?”
Lifting her brows, Ellie nodded slowly. She had more than enough to make her head ache. The last thing she needed was another confrontation with her mother.
“I think I’d like to be alone for a little while.” She gave her hostess a determined smile. “Don’t worry about me. Why don’t you check on the other guests, or take the evening for yourself? Find something diverting and enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine.”
Miss Breckenridge’s eyes unfocused. Then she nodded once, turned, and wandered off without a word.
Ellie stared after her for a moment, feeling more than a little guilty. Either she’d inadvertently offended her hostess . . . or once again, she’d circumvented her free will with accidental Compulsion. Ellie was definitely going to have to wrangle that skill under control before—No. Mastery over Compulsion wouldn’t matter one jot, once she and her mother were confined to some shadowy hovel in the middle of nowhere.
Sighing, Ellie retraced her steps and headed for the opposite wing. Cain had said he’d meet her in the conservatory. Granted, she’d said she wouldn’t meet him until tonight, but given that her own guest chamber was no longer a viable retreat, the conservatory would be as peaceful a place to wait as any.
When she arrived, she found herself alone amongst the many blooms. The spicy scent of exotic flowers enveloped her. She wandered up and down the lush walkways, ducking low-hanging vines and pausing now and again to run a fingertip along the satin petals of a particularly breathtaking bloom. She was thus engaged when she sensed, rather than heard, a presence behind her.
“You’re early,” he said softly.
Smiling, she spun to face him. “As are you.”
“I couldn’t wait.”
She glanced behind him. “No Mac Eric this time?”
Cain shook his head, his eyes crinkled with laughter. “I tried. But we weren’t five paces from my door when we chanced upon an unaccountably effusive Miss Breckenridge. Quite a departure from her reception in the music room.”
Ellie coughed guiltily. “Amicable, was she?”
“She hugged me,” her vampire warrior replied as if he’d never suffered a worse indignity. “I asked her if she’d like to pet the puppy, and she said she’d like to keep Moch-éirigh forever.”
“So you’re letting her watch Mac Eric for a while?”
He shook his head. “I let her keep her.”
“But you love that puppy!”
“Trust me,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “I have no difficulty stumbling across loveable puppies. I’ll probably find another before we even leave the conservatory.”
“Are we leaving the conservatory?” Ellie tried for an arch look, but couldn’t help grinning up at him.
His sea-green eyes were nothing short of smoldering. “Aren’t we?”
She accepted his proffered arm without hesitation. A delicious shiver slid up her spine. Her shoulders rolled backward in response, causing her breasts to rise and her bosom to tighten. She was acutely aware of every inch of her body, of the thin fabric of her chemise brushing against her flushed skin. She felt oddly naked beneath the oppressive layers of lawn and linen and silk. As if Cain’s heated gaze could see right through the lace and flounces and corset to the woman trembling beneath.
Her fingers clutched his arm even tighter. Even voluminous shirtsleeves tucked into a well-tailored jacket could not disguise the strength contained within, the toned muscle of his body. Hard. Strong. Hers.
This was what she’d been waiting for. Longing for. A moment to cherish forever.
The walk from the conservatory to Cain’s guest quarters might not have taken half so long, were it not for his inability to refrain from sidelong glances that led directly to stolen kisses. With her curls crushed between her back and the wall, and her hands wound tight about his neck as she eagerly met each kiss with her own, a single passerby would have spelled ruin if she were at all concerned about guarding her reputation. She was not. Her legs were all but twined about him as he spun with her across the threshold and into the dark stillness of his bedchamber at last.
She half-expected him to tumble directly upon the bed and divest her of these confining layers. Rather, that was precisely what she hoped he was about.
But, first, he kissed her soundly before stepping a few feet away to coax the dwindling embers in his fireplace into a softly burning blaze.
The dancing light fell upon a sumptuous master bed, with matching mahogany nightstands on either side. Upon one stood a vase with a single pink camellia. On the other rested a life-size marble bust of what was undoubtedly one of the Breckenridge forebears. Ellie focused her gaze back on the single flower, preferring its natural beauty to the profile carved in stone. The bust’s very presence made the general sense of inferiority Ellie had always endured even starker. Not only wasn’t she remotely connected to aristocracy, she couldn’t even remember her own father, much less have mementos of cherished ancestors. She’d always just had Mama.
Ellie sat on the edge of the bed and tried to push all thoughts of her impending sojourn from her mind. She tugged her slippers from her feet and bent to smell the camellia. As lonely as she had been without a father, how much worse had it been for her mother to have loved and lost her husband? Would this moment shared with Cain bring Ellie years of remembered pleasure, or soul-wrenching dreams of what she had once tasted, but could never truly have?
She shook the foolishness from her head and turned to face Cain. She would have tonight . . . and it would be perfect.
He rose to his feet. The fire’s welcome heat eased the chill from the air, and the crackling flames cast a warm glow upon his skin as he reached for Ellie’s hand. He stared at her as if she were the exotic flower. As if he, too, wanted to sear every touch, every taste, into his memory to relive again and again. Perhaps he did. Perhaps this moment seemed just as tender, just as fleeting, just as vital for him as it did her. He had been a hunter for centuries. Would no doubt continue to be. To him, honor meant upholding the values of his clan. For her, protecting her mother. Both of them put their respective families above all else. Conflicting goals, but shared ideals.
Cain pulled her to her feet, seated himself at the edge of the mattress, and nestled her between his thighs. He seemed content to spend hours thusly, hand in hand, his unreadable gaze never wavering from hers.
Ellie was having none of it.
With a raised brow, she tugged her hands from his. Slowly, she crisscrossed her arms behind her back, conscious of how the action lifted the swell of her breasts very nearly to his parted lips. Almost, but not quite. His gaze dipped. Although she doubted a full-blooded vampire had cause for breathing, Ellie could have sworn she heard a quick intake of breath.
She tugged loose the laces holding her gown together. The sleeves correspondingly relaxed, exposing first one shoulder, then the other. With nothing left to hold it in place, the lace fichu tumbled from her bodice. The triangle of lace slid across one of Cain’s parted thighs. He flinched as if the weightless scrap scalded his flesh through his calfskin breeches. His eyes closed as if he were willing himself to withstand pain caused by a wisp of material that had once rested across her breasts and against her nipples.
He opened his eyes. He was a man tortured. Intoxicated. Powerless.
Ellie returned her hands to her sides and brushed her fingertips across his leg where the fichu had fallen. Her shift and her corset supported her bosom, but did not cover it. Her nipples puckered deliciously beneath the heat of his gaze.
He licked his lips. Slowly, teasingly, as if what he desired most of all was to fasten his mouth upon her breast and suckle.
Ellie could hardly breathe for wanting him to hurry up and do so. She eased forward, inclining so slowly as for the motion to be nearly undetectable, were it not for her breasts’ trajectory ever nearer to his face.
He was definitely breathing. Hard.
Her right nipple grazed the hollow of his cheek. The side of his mouth. The firm contours of his lower lip. Her insides clenched in pleasure, pitching her forward, sending her trembling breast directly into his waiting mouth.
He laved the nipple once, twice, then began to suckle. He tugged the sleeves from her arms, shoved her gown to her hips, to the floor. His hands slid from the backs of her knees to the backs of her thighs, simultaneously lifting her shift and guiding her forward so that she straddled his hips, the hard length of his encaged manhood p
ressing against the moist surface of her bare—
“Ellie.” His eyes hot on hers, he lifted his mouth from her breast ever so slowly, dragging her nipple along his tongue and across his lower lip to glisten wetly before his parted mouth. “Are you certain you want to—”
Her hands were at his shoulders before she consciously gave them the order to do so, shoving him backward onto the bed. She covered his mouth with hers, stopping his questions with her teeth, with her tongue. She closed her fists over his shirt, rending the fine linen as she exposed his chest to her wanton fingers, to the sensitive nubs of her breasts as she pressed them against him.
His hands fastened about her waist, rocking her hips, slowly grinding her against him until she caught the rhythm with a gasp of ignited desire. Without breaking rhythm, without tearing his mouth from hers, he slid his hands up her spine to her corset. One by one, he loosened the ribbon from the hooks, until the whalebone prison fell away, and with it, what was left of her chemise.
One hand pressed to the base of her spine to hold her in place. He leaned up from the bed just enough to allow her to whip free his jacket, his waistcoat, his shirtsleeves, until nothing was left but his boots and his breeches.
She slid down his body until she knelt on the floor before him. She tugged free one boot, then the other. Her deliberate slowness in doing so must have exhausted the last of his preternatural patience, for he had his fall unbuttoned and his breeches discarded before she had even taken a breath.
He pulled her up, gently, sweetly. Holding her close, he rolled so that she was no longer atop him. He had one arm propped on either side of her ribs, and the naked length of him was hot against her belly. She was now the prisoner and he the captor. But the look on his face indicated she still very much held all the power.
“Kiss my breast,” she whispered, arching toward his mouth. “Touch me as I long to touch you.”
Born to Bite Bundle Page 108