Never Been Bit

by Lydia Dare

  Alec concentrated on gentling her, rather than stoking his own desire. He was past the point where he could stop.

  She would be his in mere moments, and that seemed to be what she wanted.

  “You’re certain you want to wear my mark?” he ground out, his lips heavy against her neck, his teeth poised and ready.

  She rocked her hips against his hand, let out a healthy little mewling sound, and tugged the back of his head. Alec abraded her flesh with his teeth, allowing them to scrape over her delicate flesh as he stroked her higher and higher.

  When she cried out, he pierced the tender skin of her throat.

  Sorcha’s passion was unlike anything he’d ever tasted.

  She rode the waves of completion, giving her pleasure to him as she took his in return. Her hands slipped around his body as she hugged him even more closely to herself. If he could draw her into himself, he would. He supped on her delicate life force, taking her into his body, into his life, into his very being, and she came willingly.

  And then he did the same. He couldn’t even control it.

  When she found completion, he found his along with her, spilling his seed between them. He groaned aloud and drank her in, taking in every last whimper and every last cry.

  Finally, when she collapsed against him with her head on his shoulder, he forced himself to withdraw his teeth and lick across the wounds he’d made to close them.

  “You’re mine now,” he grunted as he ran his hands up and down her back. He’d never felt like this before. Never wanted to hold and cuddle a lass after sharing her pleasure. But this was Sorcha. His Sorcha.

  “I’m yers,” she whispered back. “But what about ye? Ye dinna get ta…” She let her voice trail off as an embarrassed flush crept up her neck.

  “I did,” he admitted. When he slid her bottom forward, she must have felt the sticky wetness between them because she giggled. “And if you tell a single one of your coven sisters that I couldn’t even wait to be inside you to do that, I’ll not be very happy.”

  “Quite shameful, is it no’?” she asked.

  “Quite shameful that I wasn’t inside you when I did that?”

  All right, his pride was aching a little. He might as well be sixteen all over again.

  “No, quite shameful that I enjoyed it so much. I never imagined…”

  “Neither did I, lass,” he admitted.

  A heavy knock sounded on the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sorcha gasped and then leapt off Alec’s lap as the knock sounded again, a bit more insistent this time. She glanced down at herself and realized she couldn’t possibly open the door. Not so scantily clad anyway.

  Alec frowned as he rose from the chair and buttoned his trousers. “Damn Lycan,” he grumbled under his breath.

  It was Eynsford? Sorcha almost squeaked in distress.

  They couldn’t let the marquess find them like this. “Alec!” she hissed as he started for the door.

  With a look of chagrin, he shrugged. “It’ll be all right, lass.” Then he opened the door just a crack. “Don’t you have a wife to look after?”

  Though Sorcha couldn’t see Lord Eynsford from where she stood in the corner of the chamber, she could hear him grumble, “You certainly don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “It is of the essence.”

  The marquess growled a warning. “I intercepted a tavern maid with a tea tray. Not certain why she was instructed to deliver her wares here, so I redirected her to Mrs. MacQuarrie’s room instead.”

  Oh! Cait’s tea! “I’ll be right there,” Sorcha called as she retrieved her gown from a nearby chair. “I’ll need all my herbs and seeds.”

  “And a bath,” Alec added. “As you’ve taken on the role of footman, Eynsford, would you be so good as to order Mrs. MacQuarrie a bath as well?”

  Actually, a bath was in order. Sorcha slid her gown back over her head. “Please, my lord, if ye doona mind. That would be lovely.”

  “I only live to serve, lass.” Eynsford’s sarcasm could be detected even through the door. Then he snorted. “You smell like you could use a bath yourself, MacQuarrie.”

  “Do feel free to order me one then. Just see to Sorcha’s first, will you?”

  “Just as soon as she sees to Cait’s tea.”

  Sorcha slid her feet back into her slippers and started for the door, though Alec still stood there, blocking her from Eynsford’s view. She placed her hand at his back, and he glanced over his shoulder at her.

  “I’m ready.”

  “She’ll be there shortly.” Alec closed the door and then turned and raked his gaze across her once more. “The gown is about to fall right off you, Sorch. Let me get the buttons.”

  “Why did he say ye smell like ye need a bath?” She inhaled deeply. “Ye smell fine ta me.” She lifted her hair from her shoulders so Alec had better access to her fastenings.

  “That muzzle of his is much too sensitive. He can’t help being a beast,” Alec teased. A moment later, he kissed her cheek and took a step backward.

  “If you need help undoing them for your bath, do send for me.”

  Sorcha rolled her eyes. “Ye are incorrigible.”

  “One of my better traits,” he agreed, though he looked a little more serious than she would have expected.

  “Are ye all right? Are ye still hungry? I can—”

  Finally a smile tugged on his lips. “I will survive for the time being, lass. Go bewitch that tea for Cait or we’ll never get rid of her overgrown mutt.”

  Sorcha lifted up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his chin.

  “Be nice ta him. We do all need ta get along.”

  “Harmony?” he asked with one raised brow.

  “Precisely,” she agreed with a nod. “Mama and Fiona Macleod had a fallin’-out and things were miserable for everyone else because of it for a very long time. We’ve been fairly fortunate with our generation, and I doona want ta be the one ta mess it all up.”

  “I will try to be nice to him, but only for you.”

  Only for her. What a sweet thing to say. Sorcha’s heart pounded in her chest. What a wonderful man she was destined to marry. Cait must have been exaggerating when she said they had obstacles to overcome. Sorcha couldn’t ever imagine not being in harmony with Alec. He was perfect. Or he would be once his heart started beating again.

  She smiled at him once more and then exited into the tiny hallway to find the marquess still waiting for her. Havers!

  She had thought he’d returned to Cait as he hadn’t made a sound. “Are ye goin’ ta escort me ta my chamber?”

  Eynsford winked at her, and she could still see the warmhearted man she had met all those months ago, the one desperately in love with Cait from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. “It would be my honor, Mrs. MacQuarrie.”

  She took the marquess’ proffered arm and allowed him to direct her toward her chamber. “I suppose it will take some time to get used to that name,” she said conversationally.

  “I wish you luck with it, lass.” He stopped in front of a room, took a key from his pocket, and quickly unlocked the door. “Cait’s sleeping. How long will your cure take?”

  There was no cure for carrying a bairn, other than birth, but Sorcha could help make the journey more comfortable for her friend. “About ten minutes, my lord. But she’ll need ta drink all of it and more in the mornin’.”

  The look of concern he’d worn all day once again settled on his face. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

  Sorcha shrugged. Why wasn’t Cait awake to answer his questions? Sorcha was certain to make a blunder of it somehow. “Just a bit of travel sickness.”

  “I’ve traveled the length of Britain with her more than once. I’ve never seen her like this.”

  Blast Cait for not telling him the truth. Sorcha didn’t want to see the marquess suffer unnecessarily. Just as soon as Cait awoke, Sorcha would demand that her friend tell Eynsford the truth, or what she suspected the tru
th was.

  “Just allow me ta get the tea ready, my lord, and we’ll go from there, all right?”

  He nodded and then said in a low voice, “You were always my favorite of the bunch, you know.”

  Sorcha’s mouth dropped open. “I beg yer pardon?”

  Sheepishly, he smiled. “You were the only one to accept me in the beginning. You were the first to lend your support. You never shocked me with a bolt of lightning or anything like that. You are the embodiment of sweetness, Sorcha.”

  She’d had no idea he’d felt that way. “Thank ye, my lord.”

  “And from what I understand, you were the same way with Westfield and Kettering and my undeserving brothers. Unblinking acceptance.”

  Sorcha wouldn’t really put it that way. And why did he think his brothers were so undeserving?

  “Just be careful, lass,” the marquess continued as his eyes lingered on her neck. “I know your fate is on a certain course right now, but I’d hate to see you lose the sweetness that is your nature. Not every entity is worthy of your acceptance.”

  Meaning Alec. He didn’t have to say it; Eynsford’s meaning was clear. But she’d known Alec her whole life, and she’d trust him with her heart, her body, and her future.

  She didn’t want to have that particular conversation with the marquess, though, and certainly not in the hallway of The Black Horse Inn. So, she simply nodded her head instead.

  Sorcha stepped inside her chambers to find a tray with a couple cups and a steaming teapot placed on a table near her bed. Luckily, all of her valises and portmanteaus that contained herbs, flowers, and seeds were awaiting her as well.

  She quickly went to work and removed the lid of the teapot. In short order, she added a healthy dose of chamomile and another pinch of ginger for good measure.

  Then she retrieved a tiny flaxseed and placed it in the palm of her hand and made a fist. Sorcha imagined Cait smiling, healthy, and happy with just the right coloring to her face.

  Sorcha opened her fist, touched the seed with the tip of her index finger, and couldn’t help but smile as it turned to dust in her hand. Then she added the powder to the teapot and breathed in the soft aroma of chamomile. Cait would feel better in no time.

  Just as Sorcha was about to toss the door open to inform Eynsford that the tea was ready, she found her maid, Maggie, in the hallway wearing the most confused expression. “Oh, there ye are, miss. The innkeeper is havin’ a tub brought up for Mrs. MacQuarrie. I think he thinks that’s ye, Miss Ferguson.”

  Sorcha bit her bottom lip. She supposed someone should tell her poor maid what was going on. Or some of it anyway. “Maggie, I am Mrs. MacQuarrie.” How odd it felt to say those words aloud. At her servant’s rounded eyes, Sorcha hastened to explain, “I mean I will be just as soon as we get home and talk ta Papa.”

  “Oh! That is wonderful news.” Her maid grinned, but then her face fell. “But the innkeeper said…”

  How was she to explain this so Maggie would understand but not think badly of her at the same time?

  “The innkeeper must have misunderstood, but tryin’ ta explain it now will just make it more confusin’. A tub is on the way up, ye say?”

  “Aye, miss.”

  “Wonderful.” Sorcha smiled at her maid. “I am covered in travel dust. I need ta peek in on Lady Eynsford and then I’ll be right back for my bath. Will ye help me with the tray?”

  She pointed to the table beside the bed.

  Maggie bobbed a courtesy and then bustled across the room to retrieve the tea tray. Sorcha stepped into the hallway and knocked on Cait’s and Eynsford’s door.

  “She’s still sleeping,” the marquess said softly as he opened the door.

  “Well, she’ll need ta be awake ta drink my special brew.”

  Sorcha gestured to her maid a few steps behind.

  Eynsford quickly ushered them both over the threshold.

  “Thank you, lass.”

  “This should work wonders,” Sorcha promised as her maid deposited the tray on a table near the room’s lone window. “Thank ye, Maggie. I’ll return ta my chamber in just a moment.”

  As soon as her maid departed, Sorcha turned her attention to the marquess. “Ye should leave us for a bit too, my lord. I’ll wake her and make certain she starts right in on the tea.”

  A series of expressions flashed across the poor man’s face. He appeared completely lost, not knowing what to do about Cait. “But—”

  Sorcha had some things to say to her friend that she didn’t particularly want the marquess to overhear. “Why doona ye go for a quick walk and stretch yer legs? Ye’ve been all folded inta that coach for quite some time. Yer legs must be as sore as mine are.”

  He frowned. “Places like this bother her. All these strange people. If I’m not here to keep the images at bay, every future of every person in this inn will start to invade her thoughts. It’s almost painful for her. My touch clears her mind.”

  Which, of course, Sorcha knew. Yet if Cait was right about her condition, then a piece of Eynsford was already with Cait and the troublesome images would keep their distance from the seer. However, Sorcha couldn’t say as much to the marquess, not since she’d given her word that very day. “I need ta have Cait’s full attention for the tea ta take effect, my lord. Just for a few minutes.”

  He looked nearly pained himself as he agreed with a nod and silently slid from the room.

  Sorcha smoothed Cait’s blond locks from her face.

  “Caitrin, ye need ta wake up,” she began soothingly.

  Cait groaned and her blue eyes fluttered open. “Sorch?”

  “Hmm.” Sorcha moved from Cait’s bedside to pour a cup of her special tea. “I want ye a drink this.”

  Cait pushed up on her elbows and then sat up straight. “I feel awful.”

  Sorcha pressed the cup into Cait’s hands. “Ye’re no’ the only one. Yer poor husband is nearly beside himself with worry. Ye have ta tell him, Cait.”

  But her friend shook her head stubbornly, as only Cait could. “No’ until I ken for certain.”

  But she did know for certain; she just hadn’t realized it.

  “Caitrin, ye are in The Black Horse Inn. Are ye plagued with any unwanted futures?”

  Cait blinked at her as though she had just realized she wasn’t bothered by the awful images. “Nay,” she whispered.

  “My thoughts are my own.”

  “It’s because ye are expectin’ a bairn, Cait. Ye’re expectin’ Eynsford’s child. He doesn’t need ta touch ye ta keep the futures from floodin’ ye because he’s already with ye.” The happiest smile Sorcha had ever seen graced Cait’s face. “Aye, that makes sense.”

  Sorcha sat on the bed beside her friend and squeezed Cait’s hand. “Please tell yer husband. The man is positively miserable.”

  Cait agreed with a nod, but then she shook her head at the last moment. “But, Alec… We have a long trip ahead of us, Sorch. I doona want ta make it more difficult.”

  “Alec already kens.”

  Cait almost dropped her tea. “Ye told him? Ye promised ye could keep yer trap shut.” She smacked Sorcha’s arm and somehow managed not to slosh any tea from the cup.

  “I dinna tell him. He’s a smart man.” Sorcha rubbed her illused appendage. “And doona hit me, Cait.”

  Cait lifted the tea to her lips and inhaled. “Flax?” She turned up her nose like a finicky child.

  Havers! Sorcha heaved an impatient sigh. “Drink the blasted tea, Cait. It’ll help ye feel better.”

  “Flax?” Cait complained.

  “It was one tiny seed.” Sorcha tapped the bottom of the cup, silently encouraging Cait to drink. “If ye doona mind, I’d like ta cure yer travel sickness so we can get ta Edinburgh.”

  “Someone’s in a hurry ta marry,” Cait said with a soft, sarcastic whistle and a wink. Then her gaze dropped to Sorcha’s neck. She sat forward on her knees to get a better look. “Sorcha, what is that?” she cried as she reached toward Sorcha’s b
ite wound.

  Sorcha covered it with the palm of her hand. If the marquess hadn’t been so persistent, she’d have had time to cover it. “It’s nothin’,” she quipped, and stood up to bustle about the room.

  “That is no’ nothin’, Sorch,” Cait cried as she reached out, grabbed Sorcha’s hand, and then tumbled her back onto the bed. “Let me see that thing,” she ordered.

  “It’s really none of yer concern, Cait,” Sorcha said as she felt the heat of embarrassment and anger creep up her face.

  “He bit ye, did he?” Cait sat back against the headboard with a knowing grin.

  “If ye must ken,” Sorcha returned hotly, “he did.”

  “And how was it?” Cait nearly vibrated with something Sorcha didn’t understand.

  Sorcha took a deep breath. “Cait, I ken ye willna understand about this since ye have normal relations with Eynsford. But please try no’ ta judge.”

  “Judge?” Cait cried, looking much too pleased with herself. Then she tugged at the collar of her own gown and showed Sorcha the mark at the base of her neck. “I am the last person ta judge ye, Sorch.” She giggled.

  “Ye had a vampyre bite ye as well?” Certainly Alec hadn’t… “Havers, no! Dash did it.” She looked supremely pleased by that fact. “It’s his mark. I like it.” She shrugged. “I have wanted ta tell ye all about it for so long.” Cait looked like she could dance across the room at any moment. “Now that ye’ve had relations with Alec, we can talk about everythin’.”

  Sorcha gasped and jumped to her feet. “I havena had relations with Alec.” She thought about it a moment. “Well, no’ all the relations. No’ that I’m aware of.” Then she held up a hand to stop Cait’s pending questions. “I’m fairly certain there’s more ta it than what I’ve experienced.” Then beneath her breath she muttered, “At least I hope there is. It’s perfectly scandalous, is it no’?” She winced at the last.

  “Dash bit me before he married me too.”

  “Tell me more,” Sorcha prompted.

  “He bit me the night he met me. After only a few moments. Then he was irrevocably tied ta me.”