by Lydia Dare
At once her heart ached and the sting of tears formed behind her lashes. She’d thought she could take whatever he had to say, but… “You’re bloody beautiful,” he added before she could respond.
“I beg yer pardon?” He didn’t make any sense at all.
Hadn’t he just said she wasn’t pretty? He’d pulled her into his arms yet complained when she’d touched him. What a confusing man.
“You’re so beautiful that you’re nearly painful to the eyes, Sorch,” he continued. “When you walk into a room, it lights up.”
“Really?” She blinked back her unshed tears.
“Long ago, I thought the room lit up when you walked into it because of who you are.” He let his fingertip drag across the expanse of her chest. “In here.”
“In my breasts?” she queried. Then immediately wanted to bite the words back. What a ridiculous thing to say.
“There too,” he chuckled. “But really, it was what was in your heart for me back then. That was what made you beautiful. Your open and giving heart.”
“And now, my heart’s not beautiful anymore?”
“I’m certain it is, but I’m so busy looking at the rest of you that I miss the heart completely.”
His hold had gentled while they stood there, but Sorcha made no move to extricate herself from his grasp.
“And ‘pretty’ doesn’t begin to describe you,” he continued.
She couldn’t help but smile. “So, I can safely assume that men find me ta be attractive?”
He snuffled, a harsh sound from his nose. “That’s safe to say. I’m not the only one who has been trying to look down your dress.”
“Ye were tryin’ ta look down my dress?” She shook her head. “I thought ye were just glancin’ at them.”
“I was trying to look down your dress. Never doubt it. I might do it again later.”
“Promises, promises,” she murmured.
He laughed again. “Don’t tempt me, minx,” he warned.
Things were going better than she’d hoped, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her yet. What to do about that? “So, ye think I’m pretty.” She held up her hand when he went to contradict her. “Pretty enough,” she corrected.
“Pretty enough for what?” he countered.
To care whether or not she set her cap for someone else? To drive him a bit mad at the idea? “Ta catch a Lycan. Is that no’ what we were discussin’?”
“There’s not a chance in hell that I’m going to let you hunt or catch a Lycan,” he informed her. “Over my dead body.”
She opened her mouth to once again comment about his dead body, but he was already speaking again.
“And I’d have to be dead again before I’d allow it. We don’t die easily, just so you know.”
“But Elspeth and Cait both have Lycans of their very own. And I’ve always wanted one.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and she wanted more than anything to smooth it with her fingers. “Those men are not puppies you can bring home, let sleep in your bed, and train. They’re much more than that.”
“Are they?” she asked, her eyes moving from his jaw to his lips.
“Indeed. And I will not see you get hurt by one of them. I’d have to kill him. Then Eynsford would try to kill me. It’d be a bloody mess. Cait would be angry at me forever.”
Of course, all of this had to do with Cait. As far as Alec was concerned, everything always went back to Cait. She’d been foolish to have thought otherwise. All she’d wanted was a kiss and she’d ended up with a broken heart instead.
“Will ye ever be over her?”
She didn’t expect an answer and berated herself for even asking. Alec didn’t say a word. He just looked down at her, his black eyes fathomless.
“She loves her husband.”
“I’m aware of that.” His tone was brusque. But he didn’t set her away from him.
“But ye’re still pinin’ for her.”
“Right now, the only person on my mind is you,” he admitted, though he avoided her gaze when he said it.
“Because I’m a nuisance. I understand. Ye probably hate havin’ me underfoot.”
His hand slid down over her hip. The other one joined his exploration, smoothing her dress over her other side.
“I’ve had you in my arms for a few minutes. And you haven’t even tried to get away.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m dangerous.”
She giggled at the very idea.
“Because you are much too good for the likes of me.” For some reason, that comment felt like it had been wrenched from his soul, and Sorcha’s smile disappeared. He couldn’t really believe that, could he?
“Ye are good, Alec.” She patted his chest lightly. “In here.”
“The only place I’m good is…” He suddenly stopped.
“Never mind.”
“What were ye goin’ ta say?”
“Nothing.”
How could he say “nothing”? Not knowing would torture her. She shoved against his chest. “Ye shouldna start comments ye’re no’ goin’ ta finish. It’s ill-mannered.”
“So is sinking my teeth into the skin of others to drink from their life force. Yet I do it to survive.”
“The only place ye’re good is…?” she prompted.
He leaned down close to her ear. “The only place I’m good, Sorcha, is…” He let his voice trail off as his breath tickled the shell of her ear. “In the bedchamber,” he finally concluded.
The hair on Sorcha’s arms stood up, and her belly dropped to her toes.
“I’ve shocked you.” He laughed, his dark eyes twinkling with mirth. “It’s about time.” He let her hips go and stepped back from her.
Madness made Sorcha follow him and press her length along his. She reached her hand around his neck and tugged his head down so she could speak quietly in his ear. “Prove it,” she whispered.
When her breath blew across the shell of his ear, Alec’s teeth descended and she felt a hard bulge against her belly. Then she turned and quit the terrace as quickly as she could. She hadn’t gotten her kiss, but she most definitely had gotten his attention.
*
Alec’s fingers shook, almost desperate to pull her back to him, but he managed to remain rooted to the spot and let her escape back into the ballroom. Prove it! Damn it to hell, he’d hear those softly muttered words in his sleep. He’d hear them every waking moment for the remainder of his unnatural life. He was more dangerous to her than those bloody Lycans.
“Whispering sweet nothings?” Bexley’s voice from the shadows brought Alec back to the present.
He spun in his spot to find a self-satisfied grin on the earl’s face. Faster than a blink, Alec pushed Bexley farther into the shadows. A look of horror flashed in the man’s eyes.
“I-I,” the Englishman stuttered.
Alec focused on the man’s pupils. “You saw nothing.”
Bexley stopped struggling, and his breathing returned to normal. “Nothing,” he repeated quietly, in a voice that didn’t even sound like his.
“You have no recollection of Miss Ferguson meeting me in the orangery this afternoon.”
“No recollection.”
“In fact, you hold Miss Ferguson in the highest regard and find her character to be exemplary.”
“Exemplary.”
“You will keep your distance from Miss Ferguson in the future.”
“Yes, keep my distance.”
Alec released his hold on Bexley’s jacket and took several steps away from the man, moving back into the light from the ballroom. He leaned against the balustrade and stared out into the darkened Kent countryside.
“MacQuarrie?” Bexley sounded confused.
“Aye?” Alec glanced over his shoulder at the earl.
“Do you know why I’m outside?”
Alec frowned and shook his head. “No idea.”
“Hmm,” Bexley looked toward the ballroom. “Must’ve needed fr
esh air. A bit stuffy in there tonight.”
“Indeed,” Alec agreed.
“Suppose I needed a distraction.”
Alec raised his brow in question.
Bexley shrugged as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “Had a long conversation with my grandfather this morning. Dreadful business being an heir.”
Alec didn’t doubt the truth of that. Of the men he knew, the most troubled were those with titles. “Sorry to hear it.”
“Me too.” The earl leaned his elbows against the balustrade as well and sighed. “Hard to think of anything else. You haven’t got a remedy for distraction, have you?”
Was that what he’d been doing? Focusing on Sorcha to distract himself from whatever he’d discussed with his grandfather? Well, he’d just have to find something else to occupy his mind. Alec shook his head. “You seemed to enjoy yourself in the village last night,” he suggested.
A small smile appeared on Bexley’s face. “Brilliant idea. Perhaps I’ll make another trip this evening. You up for another jaunt into Folkestone?”
It wouldn’t matter where Alec spent his evening; he’d never get Sorcha’s tempting words out of his mind.
“Perhaps,” he replied noncommittally.
Inside the ballroom, the musicians stopped playing and the room fell silent.
“Grandmother must have called everyone for dinner.”
Bexley sighed.
And Alec was supposed to escort a very enchanting witch. How would he ever manage to sit beside Sorcha and behave himself?
Chapter Fourteen
Quite pleased with herself, Sorcha entered the ballroom and spotted Maddie near the main entrance, talking with her grandmother. Sorcha quickly made her way around the perimeter and linked her arm with Maddie’s and grinned at the duchess. “Wonderful evenin’.”
And it was. She might as well be floating in the clouds, and Alec hadn’t even kissed her. But he would, and very soon, if she had correctly read his expression when she’d abandoned him to the lonely night air.
Her smile vanished when the duchess frowned at her.
“Miss Ferguson,” Her Grace grumbled a curt greeting.
Sorcha gulped. The Duchess of Hythe hadn’t called her “Miss Ferguson” since their first meeting at Rhiannon’s wedding the previous spring. “Is somethin’ amiss?”
“It’s nothing,” Maddie began, but the duchess halted Maddie from saying more by holding her bejeweled hand in the air.
“I don’t quite understand Lady Blodswell’s, Lady Eynsford’s, or your devotion, for that matter, to Lord Radbourne and his brothers, but I do wish you wouldn’t subject my granddaughter to men of their ilk.”
Havers! Sorcha bit the inside of her cheek. She shouldn’t have introduced Maddie to the trio after all, but they truly were wonderful men. “I—um,” she started, though she wasn’t certain what she would say.
“Lord Radbourne was quite the gentleman,” Maddie added. “Honestly, Grandmamma, nothing untoward occurred.”
“Yet.” The duchess’ scowl darkened. “But we’ll discuss this later. This is hardly the place, and it is time for dinner.”
She waved her hand in the air to gesture the musicians to finish their set, and then she set about to inform the rest of her guests that it was time to make their way to the dining hall.
“Don’t think on it, Sorcha.” Maddie squeezed her hand, kind as always. “Grandmamma’ll be fine in a while. And she adores you. She was gushing over the flower you restored for her just this evening.”
Sorcha was hardly worried for herself, but she didn’t want to make Maddie’s life more difficult, and she shook her head. “I hope I dinna get ye inta trouble.”
Maddie smiled. “So, I’ve had my first encounter with a rogue. I’ve lived to tell the tale, and I’m sure more degenerate fellows will await me in London next season.”
That was probably true. The little imp inside Sorcha pressed her to ask, “And did ye like him?”
Maddie turned up her nose just a bit. “Grandmamma is right. Lord Radbourne is not the sort for me, but I’m certain he’s fine for someone else.”
Well, if Maddie hadn’t decided to set her cap for the man, the duchess couldn’t stay put out with Sorcha for too long, could she?
People began trickling into the corridor, and Alec and Lord Bexley entered into the ballroom from the terrace.
Immediately, Sorcha sought Alec’s eyes and tried not to blush as the memory of their last conversation replayed in her mind. Had she actually asked him to prove his virility in the bedchamber?
Within a moment, the Earl of Bexley stood before them with Alec close behind him.
“Maddie,” Bexley offered her his arm, “Grandmother wanted me to escort you into dinner to make certain you don’t fall prey to any lurking scoundrels.”
Meaning the duchess wouldn’t take the chance that one of the unruly Hadley men would focus their attention on Maddie. Sorcha shook the thought from her mind. None of it was her concern. The only person she wanted to think about was standing at her side. “Mr. MacQuarrie, how flatterin’ ye havena forgotten me.”
The look he shot her made it clear that he could never forget her nor the conversation they had shared on the terrace; his eyes nearly smoldered. Alec’s heated expression caused Sorcha’s belly to flip, and she quickly took his outstretched arm.
Maddie and Lord Bexley strode from the ballroom, and though Sorcha would have been happy to follow them, Alec apparently had other plans and remained rooted to the ground. Sorcha glanced up at him, wondering why they weren’t following Maddie and her brother.
“You are a minx, Sorcha Ferguson.” His voice rumbled over her like a caress and she shivered.
“I doona ken what ye mean, Alec MacQuarrie,” she shot back at him.
He snorted. It was a most ungentlemanly sound, and she couldn’t help but giggle.
“You know exactly what I mean. You shouldn’t provoke me like that.” His dark gaze bored into hers. “It’s almost as though you’ve thrown down the gauntlet. And now I feel obligated to prove my prowess to you.”
He did? Good heavens. How wonderful. “What’s stoppin’ ye?” she managed to croak out.
He began to tick items off on his fingers. “One, I’ve known you your whole life.”
She interrupted him. “I’m no’ a child any longer, Alec.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he grunted, his gaze again straying to the bodice of her gown. A flush crept up her face. But he continued anyway. “Two, you’re an innocent.”
She nodded. “I am. Ye say that as though it’s a detriment.”
“It is.” He lifted another finger. “Three, I’m a gentleman.”
“At times,” she acquiesced.
“Beg your pardon?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunching together.
She waved her hand in the air breezily. “Ye’re a gentleman when ye need ta be. But when ye go off in search of a meal, there’s no doubt in my mind that ye can be persuaded ta forget yer gentlemanly demeanor.”
She knew immediately that she’d said the wrong thing when a muscle began to tick in his jaw.
“I chose my circumstances, Sorcha, but I wasn’t fully aware at the time of what they’d be. Now it cannot be undone.” That was the most she’d ever heard him say on the matter, and it didn’t look as though he planned to say anymore.
“Did ye have more considerations? A four, five, and six, perhaps?”
“Four, I want you.”
Sorcha’s breath caught. “Ye do?”
“My teeth ache every time you’re around,” he admitted, but he didn’t sound happy about the fact. Poor tortured Alec, she’d gladly let him take from her. All he had to do was ask.
“Ye want ta drink from me?” The very thought made her heart race.
A curt nod was his response.
“Five, my existence is a solitary one. For many reasons, some of which I cannot explain to you.”
“Ye mean ta say, ‘Five, I�
�m still in love with Cait,’” Sorcha supplied.
“No,” Alec said with a brisk shake of his head. “She’s not even on my mind.”
Her heart nearly thudded to a stop. If he was over his infatuation with Cait, could they have something together?
Something real? He did want her, after all. He’d said so.
“What is on yer mind?”
“You consume my every waking moment.” Then he straightened his shoulders and began to lead her toward the dining hall.
She tugged at his arm. But it was like trying to stop a runaway horse. “Alec,” she implored.
“What is it?” he asked, though he didn’t even look down at her.
“I dinna mean ta say ye were less than a gentleman back there. That came out completely wrong.”
He simply nodded, but his jaw tightened again.
When they reached the table, Alec pulled her chair back rather than wait for a footman, and she delicately sat down.
He settled next to her.
“Can ye eat real food, Alec?” she whispered to him.
“No, I can’t,” he whispered back.
“Then what do ye plan ta do durin’ dinner?”
“You’ll see.”
That was it? “You’ll see.” Apparently, their conversation had come to an end, not that she could stop thinking about it. Alec wanted her. She’d already suspected that. But he was too much of a gentleman to act on it. She shouldn’t have questioned his station as a gentleman. Not at all. He still was all that and more.
Now he was obviously irked with her. And she had no idea how to bring back the playful Alec. She should have left well enough alone.
*
Had Alec not been required to escort Sorcha into the dining hall, he’d have made an escape. The urge to do so was still at the forefront of his mind. The little witch somehow managed to get too close for comfort, both with her questions and with her body. Damn, he wanted her. There was no need to deny it. Yet his doing so had made her question his very status as a gentleman. Bloody hell.
Gentlemen tumbled innocents every day. And they didn’t have their positions in society revoked. Oh, they’d be referred to as rakes and whispered about by old matrons, but they were still gentlemen. But, by virtue of Alec’s vampyre nature, his own status appeared to be in question.