Love Charms (160 page)

"Ah, here
is my future
wife.
Lady Winslow. You've made me the happiest man, by
accepting my proposal."

Beth blinked,
barely understanding the words’ meaning, however happy, Lord Trinity, did
not
sound. No, he sounded as if each word grated loudly from his throat like shards
of glass. Then he announced even more loudly, "Accepting my proposal
last
weekend."

Gasps filtered
through the ballroom, hers mingled with them, and her gaze turned upward to his
strong features.
Why would he announce they were engaged?
She didn't
understand a word of it, or its meaning. To see his face with his eyes so
fierce, the rich blue looked black … that someone came to her aid … had even
approached her. She'd never felt such gratitude. It overwhelmed her and one hot
tear slid down her cheek.

"Lady
Beth," Trinity's voice etched her name with a bass tremor. He stepped
forward grasping her from Father Christian's support.

He was dressed
in the finest ballroom attire with his normally-disheveled, dark-streaked blond
hair pulled back and tied at his nape. She had no choice but to take his strong
arm for support as his hand and forearm wound behind her waist.

"I'm not
certain I c-can stand," she whispered.

She felt his
hand beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "You can," he vowed
in a low, but strong voice. "I'll hold you." His hand moved from her
chin to wipe his thumb across the tears on her cheeks. "Bastards," he
cursed harshly, raising his gaze to glare around the ballroom at the crowd of
people.

Beth saw the Duke
of Blacknall raise his hand above the crowd with some gesture. The next moment
music started. The Duke of Blacknall dipped his head toward Trinity, and Beth
heard him say, "We will mingle with the happy news. Make a show of
it." It sounded like a command, and then the duke nodded to her, turning
away with his white hair throwing red highlights beneath the blazing
chandeliers.

"We will
dance," Trinity announced close to her ear.

She clutched his
arm tightly. "I can't," she whispered, with sounds of desperation
coloring her breath.

"Look at me
now, Beth."

Her gaze leaped
to his suppressed command. "You will suspend belief or questions." He
squeezed her waist with an intimacy that riveted her. "For me," he
added with a low provoking growl.

Her eyes flowed
into the depths of his gaze, then to his mouth, and then back to his endless
dark eyes. They were moving out onto the dance floor and she heard the strands
of a waltz. She could feel each of Trinity's fingers spread out on the small of
her back.

She'd never been
touched so intimately … but then she remembered that she had. Her face grew
scarlet with the thought and she felt Trinity lifting her other hand into
position for a waltz. His crisp white cravat transfixed her gaze and it seemed
ridiculous that her wild, untamed vampire should wear one for her.

She'd never
danced the waltz … Oh, she knew how, yet an unmarried woman didn't dance such
an intimate dance with a gentleman.

"Why are
you doing this?" she exclaimed, not looking up at Trinity as they began the
movements to the waltz.

"Because I
chose to." Her gaze leaped upward. "Now, no questions, maiden."

She felt the
sway of his hard body moving around hers. She'd never felt anything like it.
Things inside of her fluttered and her gaze latched onto the vein in his wrist.
She knew that her features melted into longing. There was such respite there,
in his blood.

The pull of it
wasn't a hundred times as strong as it had been. But her desire for it was to
escape, not for its wicked temptations. If she tasted it, she wouldn't care
what anyone thought. She wouldn't care they danced alone, covering every inch
of the dance floor, a swirling spectacle for all to see.

She saw the Duke
of Blacknall speaking to Lord and Lady Lancaster. They were nodding. She saw
the brother called Lord Baptiste standing beside the musicians as though
guarding against them stopping. Father Christian was in a different place each
time she looked talking to different groups, where before they'd turned their
backs to her, now they were watching her dance.

It was
ludicrous. Her entire fate changed by a man. Now, she'd become acceptable. If
only they knew he wasn't really a man. A type of unhinged giggle began in her
chest. Trinity's grip tightened on her, pulling her breasts into his chest. Not
even that temptation could stop her laughter edged on crazed, as it broke free
with tears scoring her cheeks.

Trinity waltzed
Beth between one of the open patio doors leading outside as she laughed with
overwrought qualities. There were tears streaming down her lovely face and he
growled deep in his chest at the cruelty of humans. He decided they'd made
their display. It would have to be enough. According to Church, the next step
to save Beth was to marry her immediately. They couldn't wait for a hastily-put-together
wedding.

"Beth."
Her name left his lips as he caressed her face. How could he marry her? How
could he not? Church had said the benefit would be to both of them. He'd only
known the need to save her was too much a part of him; he couldn't deny acting
on it.

Trinity turned
them, until his back was to the miscreants catching the last crumbs of gossip
by peering out at them. He lifted Beth up into his arms and she crumpled
against his chest. He could feel her slow sobs as he stalked to the patio
steps. He wouldn't go back through the ballroom. He could only imagine what an
ordeal the malicious social ostracisms must be to a young noble woman, because
his Beth was very strong, and this was close to breaking her. She had stood up
against him and she had dealt with the addiction of his blood, not crumbling.

Aye, his maiden
was strong, so he took it on faith that what nearly happened to her was
devastating. He couldn’t give a rat's ass about society, and what they thought.
He went about his business and did as he pleased. Church would bellow that
wasn't true. They did follow social rules, but nothing close to what a young,
unattached lady of the
ton
must follow. Nay, he might not fully
understand the feminine trials, but he did take them as truth.

He could bemoan
his fate and he could say he couldn't do it. It was dangerous for Beth. Her
humanity would be at stake. Yet he'd already controlled the nearly insane
desire for her pure blood. As vampires, he and his brothers had consciences and
they would struggle, yet they would also overcome those urges they chose to. He
liked to think that made him more man than vampire.

He looked down
at Beth clinging to him as he carried her to his waiting carriage. This scheme
was so irrational, yet if he faltered, she would be destroyed. He already knew
from Christian that she had every piece of her possessions strapped to a
carriage waiting in the drive of the Lancaster's mansion. If there'd been any
hope her plan to teach at a ladies school would work, he would have let her go.

Maybe.

The unconscious
thought startled him and he nearly stopped walking, thinking it would have
meant never seeing her again. Perhaps, but after last night …
never.
He
growled deep in this throat. All right, he wanted her. That didn't just make it
possible.

"Where are
y-you taking me?" Beth's voice cracked as she spoke into the jacket
covering his chest. She sounded calmer … ragged, but calmer.

He hit the
winding driveway with the crunch of his boots sounding on the gravel. The
blazing lights from the entry way lit the way even as far out as they were. His
carriage was at the end, turned to leave quickly. They would make Gretna Green.

"To my
carriage," he replied, keeping it simple. He knew once inside the carriage
there would be more discussion than he cared for. Beth was beginning to shiver
and he realized the night air was too cold for her light dress. She'd looked
quite tempting in pink. When he'd first seen her in the ballroom, under the
lights, he'd nearly stopped short, just taking in how lovely she'd looked.
Their time together hadn't given him the impression of her from head to toe
before that moment. Some men might think her bottom a bit round or her breasts
a bit too plump. They were fools.

"I don't
understand." Beth's soft voice was unsure and he assumed she meant why
would they be going to his carriage. Why would the vampire save the maiden? Why
would the maiden accept? "B-but I have my belongings in a … I have a
driver, I cannot leave."

"It's been
taken care of. Your belongings will be taken to Blacknall."

Trinity felt
Beth tense at his answer. Any reply she might make was forestalled by their
arrival at his carriage.

Chapter Eighteen

Trinity looked
at Beth on the opposite side of the carriage in the opposing corner. He'd given
her his jacket to pull over her shoulders and he'd put a lap robe over her. At
least she appeared warm enough.

Christian rode
up top with the driver, while Church and Baptiste rode their stallions
following the carriage. Every now and then, Church could be seen alongside the
rolling carriage with his white hair flashing in the moonlight. Trinity thought
dryly that Beth must feel as if she'd been kidnapped by a horde of vampires.

"Are you
going to turn me into what you are?" Beth's small voice drifted across the
carriage.

For some
unaccountable reason, he'd never considered her asking that question.
Fool.
Sometimes in the advent of trying to appear normal, he forgot what a monster he
was. A lie formed on his lips … but then …

"I fight
the hunger to taste your blood at every moment, maiden, until it is a part of
me."

He started to
say more, but she whispered, "But you are stronger than your urges."

Something deep
and cramped inside him loosened and he nearly gasped. No one … not human, had
ever
…

"You said
that to me." Her voice sounded so softly, he was certain without his
exceptional hearing he wouldn't have heard her. "I might not have ever
understood, except …"

Her voice
faltered, and he supplied, "My blood."

"Yes,"
she whispered with her eyes shining in the carriage light, making him wonder if
there were tears in them.

"I
apologize for making that decision," he said harshly, regretting the agony
it had cost her.

"No."
Her hand, pale and small, reached outward then fell back. "It was
providence, I think."

He would have
growled his dissent. Yet he had no wish to startle her. He brought the unique
conversation back to her first question. "I can't promise you that I will
never succumb to my blood urges," he stated flatly.

"Will you
…" Her voice sounded anguished as she paused. "I am weak," she
blurted. "Will I taste your blood again?" Her voice sounded rushed
and breathless, while her gaze turned down to the fingers she clenched in her
lap.

He was stunned
and he looked away from her out the carriage window. Of course, he had no idea.
He couldn't. He'd simply assumed her cravings had lessened with time. Devil
take him, just the thought of her sucking his cold blood made him hard. The
thought of him tasting her warm blood at the same moment made him throb.

He'd never be
able to stop. He craved her blood too much and he was ashamed for his weakness.
Even a lowlife vampire like Cull could have a feeder … and therefore stop.
However he, with all his high morals about what vampires should and should not
do, was afraid to try. It would be such a close thing, if he took too much of
her blood and then she tasted his too soon after, she could be turned. No one
knew the degree it took, exactly.

He was more
honest than he'd ever been and the need for it was strong inside him. "I
don't know," he answered. "You will be surprised, this is new for
me," he paused, "For us."

"It
is?" It was a more than a question. It was a softly amazed statement.
"You've never given your b-blood to anyone before?" She sounded
pleased, and his gaze returned to her as he nodded, a bit perplexed. "What
will we do?" she asked.

"We will
marry and carve out what life we can," he said with a hint of uncertainty,
not at all certain what he would do with a wife.

"I feel
horrible that you are sacrificing yourself this way." She sounded forlorn
and lost with her voice cracking with emotion.

Suddenly, the
need to be out of the carriage was overpowering.
He was not made for this.
He couldn't sit and discuss emotional carnage.

"It doesn't
have to be that crippling, this necessity for marriage to save your reputation
and save our vital secret. It could and should be done in
name
only." His voice remained harsh as he reached for the door latch. "We
have many residences you can reside in as my wife and you will not be forced to
endure the monster that I am and will
always
be." Trinity heard
Beth's cry as he left the moving carriage with a very blatant display of
inhuman physical prowess.

"Fool!
Fool!" Beth cried, berating herself for being so stupid. She worried her
fingers against her throbbing temple. Too many things had happened. No time to
think. She couldn't confront them all, the least of which was watching Trinity
leaving the moving carriage in a way that showed her unnervingly the fact he
wasn't
human.

Monster, he'd
called himself, more than once. No matter how confused she was, she'd never
believe that. "Yet, are you desperate enough to marry him?" Because
at the same time she felt tugs of longing for him. "More," she
muttered, rubbing her temple harder. He fascinated her and allured her. If
things were normal, she'd desperately want him to kiss her. Maybe even court
her.

This felt like a
decision between marriage and death, and she didn't want it to feel like that.
She realized Trinity must feel the same way … forced, as she did.
I chose
to.
Trinity's words came back to her. He'd not been forced to say those
words. He'd not been forced to arrive and rescue her … offering marriage.

Her mind was
spinning from thought to thought. "My fear is making me seem ungrateful."
Beth dropped her hand from her temple. Perhaps Trinity was right; she shouldn't
be ungrateful and saddle him with a "human" wife that would cause him
untold problems.

***

Beth was married
to Trinity Blacknall, Marquis of Montrose. They'd been married at the break of
dawn and one of Trinity's brothers — Baptiste, she thought his name was
— had even found her some flowers to carry: yellow tulips. She had a
bulky man's ring on her wedding finger carrying the Blacknall crest because
that was all there was to be had with the haste of the wedding.

Beth stepped
outside the country inn, where the hasty service had been performed, onto the
large front steps. The morning light was gray. There would be rain later; she
could smell it on the wind blowing against the skirts of her ball gown. Trinity
hadn't kissed her mouth as they sealed their vows in front of two Scottish
witnesses. Instead, he'd tilted his head and kissed her cheek.

Father Christian
stepped beside her. "Let me be the first to congratulate you and welcome
you into our family, my lady," he said.

Beth gratefully
turned and accepted his light hug. "Thank you, Father," she answered
appropriately, even though she didn't believe his family was happy at all for
her to be one of them.

"Father?"
she started to ask. "Trinity says your family owns many properties."

Beth noticed
Father Christian looked surprised at her question even as he nodded his head.
However, she pressed onward. "Which, may I ask, is the furthest from
Blacknall estates?"

Father Christian
looked off into the small town where only a few people moved about in the early
morning. He cleared his throat, "Well, my lady, that would have to be
Crescent Moor along Scotland's border." His eyebrows rose as though
silently asking why she'd want to know such a thing.

Beth ignored his
soundless request. "Thank you, Father," she said, and then she
grasped his hand impulsively. "You've been so kind to me." Before he
could reply she took a letter from the pocket in Trinity's jacket she had
thrown over her shoulders. "Could you give this to my brother for me,
please?"

Beth pressed his
hand to take it, then she lifted her skirts and hurried down the steps, knowing
he would deliver the letter. She headed toward the driver of the carriage, who
was tending the horses and looked to be adjusting their trappings.

"Sir,"
she called for the driver's attention. "Are your rig and horses capable of
taking me to Crescent Moor on the Scottish border?"

"Of course,
my lady. If, my lords Blacknall, say …,"

Beth interrupted
him, "I am Countess Montrose, and I'm certain you will find that
sufficient to take me there."

Beth noticed the
driver's eyes widening right before she heard a voice behind her. "Running
away so soon after we're married, my lady?"

She swung toward
Trinity's deep voice. She curtsied to him, a short bob. "My lord, I only
intend to make it easier on you and your family after the great boon you have
given me." She didn't look directly up at him, as she added, "This
was your plan, yes?"

His voice
sounded forced as it ground out, "As you wish."

She saw his
boots turn to leave as her gaze leaped upward. There was a cry on her lips to
stop him, but she choked it back. That was it. He would turn away without
saying anything else. Feelings of hurt she couldn't fathom blossomed in her
chest.

He'd sounded
angry. Then, his voice expelled over his shoulder without him turning back.
"Driver, take my wife to Crescent Moor."

The way he
uttered "my wife" felt like a slap and Beth turned away from him. She
lifted her chin. She was certain she was doing the right thing to remove
herself as a burden to him. He had stated it very clearly. In name only.

***

"You're not
just letting her go!" Church demanded.

Trinity glared
at him, noting his elder brother was in rare, furious form. Yellow slashing
eyes at that. They were in the town's stables where he'd acquired a stallion to
ride, initiated by the event that his wife was leaving him.

"We need to
feed," he snapped as he checked the halter on the sleek, brown stallion.
"Do you propose I ask her to wait or simply invite her along?"

His jaw
tightened, thinking Church knew damned well that, while they could move about
by day, hour upon hour of traveling in sunlight was not advisable and this was
his business.
His
wife. Just thinking the words together, "his
wife" made him feel strange emotions. Possessiveness at the top … and not
at a level he'd think a man might naturally feel toward his woman. The
possessiveness he'd felt from the moment their vows had been sealed was strong
and wild in its demand.

It had taken
everything within his willpower not to throw Beth down on the ground and take
her right then. The desire of blood and his erection in tandem had been nearly
overpowering. He was little better now, until he wondered what was happening to
him. His sincere hope was that if he fed, the wildness he was barely keeping in
check would abate.

"We need
her in London," Church's voice sounded with electric shortness.

"We!"
Trinity shouted, snapped loose with emotions exploding inside him. He whirled
around, fangs bared with flaring yellow eyes, to grab Church by the neck.
"
What
designs do you have on my wife?" he roared, as he shook
Church. He threw his surprised brother down onto the ground. "
What
have you been doing with her?" he snarled, leaping on top of Church with
his fangs set to strike. "Have you
touched
her?"

"Trinity!"
Church shouted.

It was as though
he couldn't hear Church through the roaring of possessiveness in his head. He
nearly ripped Church's throat, but unyielding hands grabbed him, pulling him
off with inhuman strength as Christian and Baptiste grappled him backward,
while shouting at him. He snarled and fought against their hold as if he were a
savage young vampire without the willpower to control himself. Church rose
before him, while animalistic and frenzied gyrations clutched Trinity's throat.

"We need to
feed
," Church rasped. "Now!"

Later, Trinity
would regret he didn't see Beth leave. Of course, it had been for the best,
until he could gain control of himself. Church had had to tell him a dozen
times he didn't even know Beth, much less have designs on her. Then, when
they'd fed on a deer, he'd become overly savage in feeding, something he hadn't
done since the early years after he'd first been turned. Back then, to his
damnation, his savagery had been on humans.

"What is
happening?" Church asked in a softer voice, yet still laced with steel.

Trinity
continued to wring his shirt where he'd washed the blood out in a river not far
from the kill they'd fed on. He was crouched, so to see his brothers he had to
look up at them. He felt he deserved it … being lower than them.

"I'm not
certain." Trinity heard the rasp in his voice. "There was something
about Beth, even before the vows. Yet since … " His voice trailed off. He
felt in control now, but ashamed.

"Is it
still the feeling of overpowering hunger for her blood?" Christian asked,
his voice subdued, obviously trying to keep things on a calmer level. "All
of us still feel it, yet you've been so much closer to her."

Shocked, Trinity
felt his hackles rise and his eyes instantly began to glow, while his fangs
pricked his clenched mouth at Christian's words. He was able to stuff back the
snarl trying to leave his throat and he quickly looked away from them.

Christian
hurried to say, "Brother, we have no interest in her. We just feel it
ourselves and from you."

"I have
felt as you, Trinity." Baptiste's voice slammed through his reaction.

Trinity's gaze
leapt to Baptiste and he forgot to hide his feral eyes as he stood. "You
have?" he demanded with the beginnings of a vicious snarl, thinking for an
insane instant Baptiste meant he had feelings for Beth.

"With
Irene," Baptiste hurriedly interjected with the growl of possession
ringing in his voice. "No other but her." Baptiste's snarl of possession
sounded just as Trinity had previously.

"Aye,
myself also," Trinity admitted as his ardor cooled. "There are plenty
of virgins about, yet no other affects me but her."