In the Heat of the Bite (39 page)

For some reason, Rhiannon grew more anxious the closer they came to their destination. She’d never run an estate before. She’d managed Sinclair House, but only because her father had been too preoccupied to do so. What lay in store for her at Halcourt?

“There’s nothing to worry about, lass.” Matthew smiled down at her.

“Why do ye think I’m worried?”

“Because,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “your brow creases when you’re worried.”

The carriage came to an abrupt stop, and Rhiannon couldn’t quite believe they’d arrived. The driver opened the door and lowered the steps. Matthew exited and then offered his hand to help her climb from the conveyance.

“So this is it,” Matthew said, pride exuding from his voice.

Sunlight bathed the Tudor mansion in a warm glow. Halcourt was sprawling, and wings had been added since its original construction, making it appear a patchwork home. Rhiannon’s breath was almost taken away. “It’s beautiful.” And it was. It had seen the same history Matthew had. She could feel him radiating from every stone, every board in the estate.

“It’s all yours.” He beamed down at her, guiding her to the massive front door.

Before they reached the steps, the door opened and a middle-aged man dressed in black stood before them. “Lord Blodswell,” the man greeted, “and Lady Blodswell, welcome home.”

“Thank you, Lynch.” Matthew’s hand at the small of her back urged Rhiannon over the threshold. “My wife will want a bath brought up to her chambers.”

A bath sounded heavenly. Washing the travel dust from her skin.

The butler nodded. “Of course, sir, but…” his voice trailed off.

But Matthew paid the servant no heed at all. He scooped Rhiannon up in his arms and dashed for the stairs. “Water, Lynch!” he called back over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” the butler called back, and scurried into action.

“Put me down, Matt,” Rhiannon laughed as he jostled her all the way up the stairs. “The servants will think you canna keep yer hands off me.”

“They would be correct,” he grunted as he stepped into what she assumed was the earl’s chamber and slowly dropped her to her feet, allowing her to slide slowly down his body. “I’ve spent days in a coach with you and still can’t get enough of you. I never will,” he said as he tore at his cravat. Through the connecting door, the splash of water could be heard as servants filled a bathing tub. “Off with those clothes, wife, or I’ll not be held accountable for what I do to them.”

“Promises, promises,” she taunted as she spun away from him and dashed for the door that led to her chambers.

He caught her within seconds and then stole her breath when he wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her breast with his free hand. “Welcome home,” he breathed against her lips.

“Do ye give all yer visitors such a welcome?” she gasped back at him as his hands began to bunch her skirts around her waist. His fingers prowled toward her heat as he hefted her against the door and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“I’ve waited like a perfect gentleman to wed you.”

“Ye bedded me before ye wed me, sir.” She fought to keep from shattering apart at his questing fingers as he stroked across her center. “How quickly ye’ve forgotten.”

“I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be inside you,” he grunted as he worked the falls of his trousers and freed himself and then probed at her center.

“Thank heavens I’m here ta remind ye.” She cried out as he thrust home. He’d taken her numerous times after the wedding brunch and even in the coach. But there was nothing like having him surge inside her in their own home.

“’Til the day we die,” he grunted as he filled her once again, clutching her bottom in his hands and taking all of her weight upon himself as he lifted and lowered her, matching his thrusts.

She couldn’t help but giggle as she taunted him. “Only a gentleman would be so careful with my skirts as he tossed them up around my ears.”

“There are times when I’m a gentleman,” he said as he slowed his strokes. “This isn’t one of them.”

He hit that spot, the one that drove her mad. She gasped and clutched him more tightly. “Doona stop,” she cried out, her head falling back against the door in pleasure. Within moments, he sent her over that precipice. And then he followed. He leaned his head into her neck until he could catch his breath. She tugged his hair until he leaned back to look at her, his lids drowsy.

“This breathing thing is quite a hindrance, love,” he said on a sigh. Then he chuckled as he lowered her to the floor and kissed her quickly. He stepped back and let her skirts fall. “Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll show you around.”

“If ye hadna felt the need ta devour me, I’d already have seen it,” she quipped back at him.

“You love it when I devour you.” He winked at her as he opened the door to his chamber. The butler shifted there on his feet. “Yes, Lynch?” Matthew stepped closer to the servant.

The man swallowed. “Well, sir, Lord and Lady Kettering have been awaiting you in the blue parlor all morning.”

Rhiannon’s bath was forgotten in an instant as her heart leapt in her chest. “Blaire’s here?”

“Thank you, Lynch,” Matthew sighed. His teasing countenance immediately changed to seriousness. “Will you please bring tea, in that case? We’ll be down in a moment.” The butler scuttled off to do his master’s bidding.

“There was a time I was so in synch with James that I would have known he was here.” He blew out a harsh breath.

Rhiannon gently touched Matthew’s back. She could see the strain of his features and wished she could make this easier. “We should go see them,” she said softly.

His charming smile slid right back into place. “Of course we will. As soon as we’ve cleaned up.”

“Ye’re delaying the inevitable,” she reminded him as he helped her disrobe. “Let him explain,” she suggested.

He pretended to be much more interested in helping her bathe and dress than in seeing his old friend. But finally Matthew offered her his arm and then escorted her down an unfamiliar corridor. How long would it take to learn the layout of this place? Before she could contemplate the décor or possible changes that should be made, Matthew led her downstairs, opened a door, and directed her inside.

Blaire rose from her spot on a divan beside Lord Kettering and smiled more radiantly than Rhiannon had ever seen. “There ye are!” her friend gushed, rushing forward and embracing Rhi tightly, almost too tightly. The battle-born witch wasn’t always aware of her strength. “I’m so sorry, we were unable ta come ta London, but…”

Rhi kissed Blaire’s cheek. “It’s all right. Cait explained.”

“Did she?” Blaire stepped closer to James Maitland, Baron Kettering. “It’s impossible ta keep secrets from her.”

Rhi smiled. “So true,” she agreed. “She said, in fact, that Lord Kettering was just as dotin’ as Lord Benjamin.”

Blaire laughed and slid an arm around her husband’s waist. “As well as I ken Cait, I’m certain
dotin’
was no’ the word she used.”

How true. Rhiannon linked her arm with Matthew’s. “I’m hopin’ mine will be the same when the time comes.”

“I’m certain,” Lord Kettering began, his low voice reverberating around the room, “knowing Matthew as I do, you have nothing to worry about, my lady.” The baron stared intently at his old friend. “How are you, Matt?”

Matthew met Kettering’s gaze and sighed. He’d known James for more than two centuries. He’d seen him grow from a child to a man and from man to vampyre. And he still couldn’t quite believe his old friend had managed to keep his transition a secret. “The same, apparently, as you are, James.”

James raked a hand through his hair. “I knew you’d be upset.” He closed his blue eyes that were as clear as the summer sky, just like they had been all those centuries ago. “I didn’t know how to tell you. Surely you can see that.”

“Apparently.”

James pinned Matthew with his gaze. “I had no idea such a thing was possible.”

“Neither did I.”

James frowned. “For all I knew, the… possibility of this life wasn’t an option for anyone else, and it hasn’t been from anything I’ve ever seen or heard.” He shook his head apologetically. “I’ve known you all of my days, Matt. I’ve seen the genuine smile you have when watching children at play or couples walking hand in hand. I couldn’t tell you that all of that was possible for me, but not for you.”

Rhiannon squeezed Matthew’s arm, and he looked down at his beautiful witch. “And yet it was.” He supposed he could see James’ point. Telling MacQuarrie had been gut wrenching in so many ways. James had known Matthew much longer. Saying the words would have been even more difficult.

His heart lifted a bit. There was no reason to start this life with hard feelings. James had always been his friend, and being neighbors and married to witches of the same coven, they always would be. “Think nothing of it, James.” He finally smiled at the baron. “I suppose we will navigate these waters together.”

James gave a sigh of relief and stepped forward, clasping Matthew’s hand in his own. “Like we always have.”

“Like we always have,” he agreed. Though this time it would be different. This time they each had found love strong enough to make them breathe again, with wives who loved them just as much in return. This time they were men with actual futures ahead of them, including children and grandchildren. No, this time would be different in all the important ways.

Lydia Dare is a pseudonym for the writing team of Tammy Falkner and Jodie Pearson. Both are active members of the Heart of Carolina Romance Writers and have sat on the organization’s Board of Directors. Their writing process involves passing a manuscript back and forth, each one writing 1,500 words after editing the other’s previous installment—Jodie specializes in writing the history and Tammy in writing the paranormal. They live near Raleigh, North Carolina.

Read on for a preview of Lydia Dare’s

Coming September 2011
From Sourcebooks Casablanca

Castle Hythe, Kent
—
August 1817

Ever since Sorcha Ferguson had met her first Lycan, she’d been determined to have one for her very own. And her coven sister had
promised
there would be Lycans at the Duchess of Hythe’s house party. Since the day that glorious news had reached Sorcha’s ears, she’d planned her entire visit south around the idea of falling in love with a beast just like two of her very best friends had done. Yet she’d seen
not even one
Lycan, and she’d already been at Castle Hythe for a sennight.

There was only one thing left to do. If they wouldn’t come to her, she would go to them. But first, she had to fix the shambles that was the Duchess of Hythe’s orangery. Sorcha had been nearly overcome with sadness when she’d seen all the plants in such a state of neglect.

She scoffed. She was feeling very much like the plants these days. Every one of her friends had married within the last year or so, and she was the only witch in her coven left to find a husband. She snorted. She hadn’t even come close to finding one, and all because those promised Lycans had yet to make an appearance.

Sorcha walked from row to row in the orangery, laying her hands on the forsaken plants. The lilies could use a kind word to boost their spirits. Their stems sagged, and there was not a single bloom to be found. She blew a lock of hair from her eyes in distraction.

A piece of Irish ivy reached out to touch her ankle. The poor thing was yellowed and aching for attention. She smiled and touched her hands to the vine, watching it strengthen and fortify itself right before her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she murmured when the vine stroked across the toe of her shoe. She wiped her hands together. The duchess would be appalled if she saw the dirt beneath Sorcha’s fingernails.

“There you are,” Lady Madeline Hayburn called from the other side of the orangery. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Sorcha bit her lip. She shouldn’t have stopped to tend the plants. But she couldn’t just allow them to suffer, could she? “I was just thinking of going out for a bit,” she said evasively, avoiding the girl’s gaze as she lifted herself up to sit on a low table.

Maddie’s face fell. “Oh,” she said with an understanding nod. But Sorcha could tell her friend was disappointed. And she’d be the worst sort of friend if she abandoned the young lady to go in search of a man. Or men. Or Lycans.
Or her destiny
.

Maddie wouldn’t have any idea how to go along without her. Sorcha patted a place beside herself. “I just thought I’d pay a visit ta Eynsford Park. The ride isna too far, from what yer grandmother said.”

Maddie smiled as she settled beside Sorcha, her blond curls bouncing about her shoulders. “I can’t believe how wonderful Grandmamma’s plants look. Just a fortnight ago, this place looked like it had died a less than peaceful death. You are a miracle worker.”

Sorcha remembered. It had hurt her very heart to see the plants in such shape. “Oh, I just have a bit of a green thumb.”