by Lydia Dare
“And risk angerin’ the duchess?” Her Grace would have an apoplectic fit if she knew Maddie was being pursued by the Hadley brothers.
Lord Radbourne chuckled. “Considering our past encounters, I believe you are fearless, lass. So do us the honors, will you?”
Sorcha ignored the warmth in her cheeks from his lordship’s veiled comment. Though she wasn’t certain if he thought her a risk taker for consorting with vampyres or for her attempt at folding a lifeless groom into a carriage all by herself. “Since when do ye wait for an introduction, Lord Radbourne?” she asked.
“True, true,” he sighed. “Why should I stand on ceremony?”
He was going about this all wrong, and the duchess might very well have Sorcha’s head; but what else could she do? “All right. Lady Madeline Hayburn, Viscount Radbourne and…” She tapped Weston’s arm, which still held hers, “Mr. Weston Hadley and…” She nodded in Gray’s direction, “Mr. Grayson Hadley.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Radbourne grinned unrepentantly and reached for Maddie’s hand, bowing regally over it. “May I claim this dance, Lady Madeline?” he asked, with a playful arch of his eyebrow.
Maddie couldn’t very well say no, could she? Not if she planned to dance with anyone else for the rest of the night.
“Thank heavens for social propriety,” Radbourne whispered to Sorcha as he led Maddie away. “She’s too nice to even refuse me.”
“Until her grandmother notices,” Sorcha whispered back.
“The duchess will have yer head.”
But then Weston directed Sorcha onto the dance floor.
“Your friend seems skittish as a kitten.”
“Kitten?” Sorcha giggled. “An interestin’ comment for a dog ta make.”
A frown settled on Weston’s face. “No matter what MacQuarrie might say, Miss Ferguson, my brothers and I are not dogs.”
“I-I meant no offense,” she muttered as the first chords of a waltz began.
Weston Hadley bowed before her and swept her into his arms for the dance. “Think nothing of it, lass.”
But it was hard not to think about her comment when he looked so miserable. “Honestly, Mr. Hadley, I ken many of yer kind and I adore each and every one of them.”
Finally he smiled, and she felt immeasurably better.
“Truly, my dear, think nothing of it.”
This time she believed him, and she smiled in return as he led her in a turn. She noticed his eyes settled on Lord Radbourne and Maddie just a few feet away. “She isna skittish,” Sorcha said quietly, “just cautious.”
*
Alec rushed as quickly as he could to the butcher’s shop in an effort to quench the insatiable thirst he felt for Sorcha.
He was thoroughly amazed that he could even walk, as aroused as she made him, much less run, but he arrived within moments. Unfortunately, the butcher was still hard at work. But, lucky for him, that at least meant fresh takings, rather than the hours-old blood he’d had previously. He enchanted the butcher, partook of a few cups of the lifegiving substance, and rushed back to the ball.
Yet when he arrived, he found that the mere smell of Sorcha’s apple blossom scent had him thirsty again. Her scent reached him from all the way across the room, where she danced within one of the Hadley twins’ arms. Damn the dog for putting his hands on her.
This single-minded attraction he felt for Sorcha was driving him mad. Not since he’d become a vampyre, and certainly not before, had he been this attracted to a woman.
Not even Cait had appealed to him the way Sorcha now did.Alec shrugged his shoulders back, forcing himself to think about what he’d just admitted to himself. He had an attraction for his lifelong friend. That much was certain. But he’d never felt such a depth of emotion for anyone but Cait.
He not only wanted to be inside Sorcha, he wanted to know what was inside her as well.
“Why so serious, Alec?” a soft voice asked from his left.
Alec looked down into the sky-blue eyes he’d always thought would be in his future.
“Lady Eynsford,” Alec said with a stiff nod. “You’re faring well, I hope.” If he didn’t look at her, perhaps she would go away. Not bloody likely, but it was worth a shot.
“Quite well,” she agreed. “But I’m curious ta ken what has ye tied up in knots.”
Blast her meddling soul. “Now you can read my mood as well as the future?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Sorcha and Hadley all the while. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Oh, ye hide it well. But no’ well enough, no’ from me,” she countered. “Admit it. Ye’re taken with her.”
“With whom, Lady Eynsford?” Perhaps if he said her title enough times, she’d remember that she’d thrown him over for that damned Lycan and go away.
“With whom?” she taunted. “Ye ken quite well of whom I speak, Alec MacQuarrie. Ye havena been able ta take yer eyes off her since ye walked back inta the room. Ye’re lookin’ at her right this moment, in fact.”
“If your husband’s relations didn’t seem bound and determined to hound her, I’d be able to enjoy my own pursuits.” If he didn’t look at her, she might believe him. If only he could believe it himself.
“Jealousy becomes ye, Alec.” She giggled. The damn woman giggled. Blast her. “Ye need no’ wish I was a man so ye could dispose of me,” she whispered playfully.
“Get out of my head, Cait,” he growled.
“I wasna in yer head, ye fool. I was makin’ an educated guess.” She inhaled deeply. “A correct one, obviously.”
Alec jammed his hands into his pockets. It was either do that or let her see how much her observations affected him.
“It’s all right if ye’re infatuated with her,” Cait said softly.
He ground his teeth together so hard that he was certain people could hear the sound in the next county. “I’m not infatuated,” he grumbled.
“No. It’s much more than that. Or it will be if ye let it.”
He finally turned and looked down at her, hoping he would get her attention. “Pardon me for being blunt, but whatever it is, it’s none of your concern, Lady Eynsford.”
She rocked her head from side to side, as though weighing whether it was or not. “Perhaps no’,” she admitted as her blue eyes seemed to penetrate his soul. “But I want ye ta ken one thing.”
Only one? “Which is?” he sighed.
“Ye’re worthy of her, Alec.”
He wouldn’t argue that point, not with Cait; but there was no way that he’d force Sorcha to accept him as he was. He wouldn’t condemn her to life with a parasite like him, not when she had a bright future ahead of her. Sorcha was all things good and kind and happy and alive. “Worthy of her, but not you,” he remarked dryly.
“We werena meant ta be.”
Alec spotted Eynsford walking in their direction, his eyes singularly focused on Cait as though he was ready to retrieve her. And for once, Alec would be happy to see her go.
“Truer words have never been spoken, Cait,” he said quietly as he left her standing there at the edge of the room.
Alec circled the perimeter of the ballroom, keeping his eyes trained on Sorcha and the Hadley mutt all the while.
Damn the Lycan for grinning at her and for being charmed by her, not that he could blame the man. But if the lout didn’t put more space between them and hold her at a more respectable distance, Alec just might give him a second scar, this one across the center of his forehead. Or his groin. Alec wasn’t certain which.
Sorcha spotted Alec, and her warm, brown eyes twinkled. She smiled at him, and Alec felt a bit of the tension in the back of his neck dissipate. He couldn’t help but smile back. Just being in her presence made him feel better. Happiness was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. And he wasn’t certain he felt it now. But she made him feel good. That was close enough to discomfort him.
Thankfully, the excruciatingly long set finally came to an end, and Alec pushed through the crowd to interc
ept Sorcha before anyone else could claim her. “My dear Miss Ferguson.” He bowed before her. “You do keep the most questionable company.”
“I was just thinking the same,” Weston Hadley growled.
“Havers!” Sorcha release her hold on Hadley’s arm and brushed past Alec. “I’m no’ sure if the lot of ye are children or grown men.” She pushed her way toward the terrace doors and only stopped when that blasted Bexley stepped in her path.
“You do look so ravishing this evening, Miss Ferguson,” the Englishman purred.
The earl was two seconds away from having Alec unceremoniously remove his head in front of an audience.
“Evening, Bexley. Do excuse us.” Alec captured Sorcha’s arm and began to direct her toward her previous destination of the terrace.
“Not headed to the orangery, by chance, are you?” The man’s voice floated over the din, smacking Alec squarely in his chest. Bexley knew. Somehow the little rodent knew about Alec’s encounter with Sorcha that afternoon.
Alec released Sorcha’s arm and turned back to face Bexley. If the man had any idea of the precarious situation in which he found himself, he didn’t show it. A smug little smile tugged at his lips, and a quick glance in Sorcha’s direction made Alec’s vision turn a bit red at the edges. “I advise you to keep your own counsel, Bexley, or you will have to answer to me.”
The earl tilted his head to one side as though considering the threat. Then he nodded and his grin deepened. “Until next time, my dear.”
There wouldn’t be a next time, not if Alec could help it. He returned his attention to Sorcha, placing his hand on the small of her back and directing her through the open terrace doors. If he wasn’t already dead, she’d be the death of him. She wasn’t a child any longer. She couldn’t play as she once had. No more frolicking in orangeries. No more carelessly dancing through life. No more attracting the attention of every scoundrel within a five-mile radius.
“Why must ye do that?” She turned on him, her brow furrowed with irritation.
Was she actually annoyed with him? “You mean threaten blackguards like Bexley? Because you seem blissfully unaware of the havoc you create, Sorcha. This isn’t Edinburgh. You’re heavily ensconced in the cream of English society, and you can’t continue in this manner.”
Her perfect little nose scrunched up as though she smelled something distasteful. “That is no’ what I was referrin’ ta at all. And I do no’ create havoc.”
“Oh, aye, you do.” Of which his jumbled emotions were testimony.
“Doona change the subject.” She jabbed one pointy finger into his chest. “There’s no reason for ye ta treat the Hadley men with such disdain. They havena done a thing ta ye. I’m no’ sure I even recognize ye anymore, Alec.”
That’s what this is about? Those damned Lycans? Her precious wolf-men? The fellows she was bound and determined to catch no matter what? A bit of despair settled in the pit of his stomach, and Alec took a step away from her. “Perhaps you may have noticed, Sorch. I’m not the same as I once was.”
“Nay, ye’re no’. But ye were raised ta be a gentleman, Alec. That hasna changed. And for the life of me, I canna understand the incessant snipin’ back and forth between vampyres and Lycans. Ye have so much in common. Ye should get along famously.”
They had so much in common? Aside from their common lust over certain witches, Alec really couldn’t concede her point and he snorted in response.
Sorcha folded her arms across her middle, raising the tempting mounds of her breasts higher. His eyes drifted downward until she began speaking. “Ye canna help what ye are, and neither can they. Ye live among humans but hide the truth of yerself, just like they do.”
“The same could be said of witches, Sorcha. Yet you and I are like night and day.” And it was true. Where he preferred quiet darkness and solitude, she was all that was sunny and cheerful. “I am death and you are life, lass.”
Her face seemed to fall a bit, yet she took a step toward him. “It doesna have ta be that way, Alec.” She placed her hand on his chest, and the warmth from her fingers stirred something inside him. He almost felt alive again.
“I wish—” He shook his head. Wishes were better left unsaid. Particularly ones that couldn’t come true.
Sorcha inhaled deeply but didn’t remove her hand from the center of his chest. Those creamy swells of skin at her bodice rose and fell with her exhale, once again capturing his interest.
“Alec MacQuarrie, are ye starin’ at my bosom?” She pulled her hand from his person and stepped back.
Of course he was starting at her breasts. They were probably absolutely beautiful, if one took the time to disrobe her properly. He coughed into his hand. “I was doing no such thing.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Luckily, his teeth weren’t descending. Not quite yet.
The skin at her throat suddenly pinkened, her freckles becoming even more pronounced. What he wouldn’t give to taste them, each and every one.
“Ye are starin’ at my bosom,” she complained. But there was something in her gaze. Something he couldn’t quite decipher.
Alec leaned closer to her and said softly, “If you don’t want men to stare at them, perhaps you should cover them up.”She gasped. “Oh, aye, it’s my fault. Should I have ta have cover up ta my ears too, just because men like ye canna control yer basic instincts?”
Oh, she had no idea how much he was in control. No idea at all.
Chapter Thirteen
Sorcha felt quite certain she would explode into flames at any minute. He was still glaring at her chest. He’d even licked his lips as he’d done so. She’d called his name, and it had barely grabbed his attention.
“I don’t know why you women dress to show off your assets and then get upset when we look at them,” Alec muttered beneath his breath but loudly enough that she could make out the words. That meant he wanted her to hear them.
“We women dress ta flatter ourselves. No’ ta invite yer gaze.” She tugged at her bodice. “And it’s no’ too low. I’m quite properly covered.”
“I beg to differ.” His curt reply was tempered by his roguish grin.
She narrowed her gaze at him in warning.
“We should go back inside before Eynsford or one of his pack starts a search for you,” Alec said as he offered her his arm.
“Since ye have already ogled my bosoms, I’d like ta ask for a boon,” she said quickly. It came out all in one breath.
Then she wanted to hide her face in her hands. But she did want him to kiss her again. She doubted she’d ever get tired of his kisses, not if she lived to be a million years old.
“Recompense for my lack of manners?” Alec looked affronted. But then he shrugged. “If you plan to ask me to help you win one of those mutts, the answer is no.”
What a wonderful idea. Why hadn’t she thought of it herself? He seemed to lose all rational behavior when Lycans were involved. She could certainly use that to her advantage, couldn’t she? “I’d do no such thing,” she lightly protested.
“Uh-huh,” he challenged, nodding his head in agreement.
“Of course you wouldn’t.” He inhaled deeply and then let the breath out. It was an action reminiscent of his old life, a habit that was hard to break. “What’s this boon you’d like to collect in exchange for my ogling?”
What was the best way to go about this? Someone more adept at flirting would know just what to say. “Do ye find me pretty, Alec?”
“Good God, Sorcha,” he moaned. “Fishing for compliments now, are you?”
“Never mind,” she clipped out and moved to brush past him. She’d made a blasted fool out of herself with that misstep. But she’d never needed to flirt or use a man’s jealous nature to her advantage before. Perhaps she could talk Cait into giving her lessons.
Alec grabbed her arm as she tried to escape back into the ballroom. “Sorch,” he said, attempting to placate her.
“Don’t go.” No, stay here and continue
to make a fool of yourself, the amusement in his eyes seemed to say.
“Name one good reason why I should stay,” she countered.
“Very well, I’ll answer you,” he ground out. Then he groaned, as though doing so was painful.
She straightened her shoulders and prepared for the worst. She had started this exchange, after all. She would have to take whatever he said in the spirit in which it was intended. And if it was truly awful, she’d run back to her room and cry her eyes out for the rest of the night.
“You’d like for me to be completely honest, correct?”
Havers! Must he drag this out? “No, I want ye ta lie ta me, Alec.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
He chuckled. It was a warm sound. Very much like the old Alec, before he’d been reborn. Before his low laughter could come to a stop, he moved quickly, his arm snaking around her waist and drawing her close to him. Sorcha pressed her palms against his chest in an effort to steady herself. He was so hard beneath her fingertips. This was exactly where she’d wanted to be all night. Perhaps she hadn’t made such a terrible blunder after all. She should ask him on a regular basis if he thought she was pretty.
“Stop doing that,” he warned quickly.
“Doin’ what?” She tilted her head back to look into his face.
“Touching me,” he clipped out.
“I believe it was ye who grabbed me. No’ the other way around.”
“True,” he conceded with a good-natured shrug. “But that doesn’t give you license to explore my person.”
“I need a license ta touch ye? Somehow I doubt that.” Her fingertips flexed against him again. Then she moved to disentangle herself from his arms. He didn’t budge. Didn’t let her go.
“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice soft and hard at the same time.
“Now what am I doin’ wrong?” she sighed.
“You’re wiggling. Stop it. I want to talk to you.” With his free hand, he tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his dark gaze. “You are not pretty at all,” he said slowly.