The Vampire’s Mail Order Bride (5 page)

“That’s an odd quality to call out. What makes you think that?”

Stanhill’s mouth bent oddly, and when he raised his gaze to Hugh’s, his eyes held a curious spark. “She brought her cat.”

“She did what?”

“Did you expect her to leave it alone for a month? Seems fairly harmless, though.”

Hugh inhaled. “Bloody hell. I smell it already.”

Stanhill frowned. “No, you don’t.” He picked up the bottle of silver polish. “This has ammonia in it. Calm down, your lordship.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t act like a spoiled peer that needs to be spoon fed. It’s a cat, not a wrecking ball.”

Hugh grimaced. “You like her.”

Stanhill cut his eyes away from his work to give Hugh an incredulous look. “After centuries of no one but you for company, how could I not?” He smiled. “Besides, it’ll be nice to have someone else to talk to. Especially of the female persuasion.”

“You have Corette and I bloody doubt it,” he snarled.

Stanhill went back to his work with a grunt. “Woke up in a mood, too, I see.”

“You would have too if you were having a bridezilla thrust upon you.”

At the soft clearing of a throat, he and Stanhill turned. A very pretty woman stood in the kitchen doorway. From the look in her big green eyes, she’d heard him loud and clear. His gut sank with that realization. Whether or not he wanted this, it wasn’t her fault she was here.

She bent her head, and the soft chestnut waves framing her face closed around her pained expression like a curtain. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just…I’ll be upstairs.”

She turned and fled before Hugh could stop her.

“Now you’ve mucked it up,” Stanhill said. “She leaves and the dowager is going to snatch that amulet from around your neck quicker than you can blink.”

Hugh glared at him.

Stanhill put down a butter knife and shook his head. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Go fix it, you dimwitted night crawler.”

Hugh shoved his chair back and went after her. She’d beaten him to her room, and her door was closed. He knocked softly. “Miss Givens?”

After a few seconds, she answered, “Yes?”

“May I have a word with you?”

She opened the door. Indignation danced in her eyes. “You mean a word besides bridezilla?”

He took a deep breath. “My apologies. That was unwarranted.”

“I’d say. You don’t even know me.”

He held his hands up. “You’re absolutely right. Can we start over?”

“Maybe.” She made no move to let him in, leaning against the door frame and crossing her arms under her breasts.

The move created a valley of cleavage that erased his thoughts for a moment. What had she said? Oh, yes. “Maybe?”

“First, tell me why you said I’d been thrust upon you. Didn’t you want me to come?”

He raked a hand through his hair. The woman had guts, he’d give her that. She was also nothing like the women he usually dated. Not blonde. Not reed slim. Not coiffed to within an inch of her life. “It’s not so much I didn’t want you to come as I only found out about you yesterday.”

Confusion clouded her pretty green eyes. “Did you not know what Eternamate was when you signed up for it?”

“I didn’t know Eternamate existed.” He smiled as best he could given the circumstances. “And I didn’t sign up for it. My grandmother arranged all this on my behalf.” Didi might not be fond of being referred to as grandmother outside family settings, but seeing as how she was responsible for Annabelle being here in the first place, all bets were off.

Annabelle’s eyes widened, then she snickered. “You poor thing.” The joy left her face a second later. “I suppose you want me to go, then.”

“No, actually. I don’t.” He wasn’t about to explain that his grandmother had threatened to take the amulet that allowed him to daywalk, either. It was bad enough Annabelle knew he was a vampire. Those amulets were a family secret shared only by his brothers, his grandmother and Alice Bishop.

She made a face. “You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me. If your grandmother set this up, why would you want me to stay?”

“For that very reason. She arranged this and I love her dearly, so for her sake, why not see what happens?” That was convincing, wasn’t it?

Annabelle frowned. Perhaps not as convincing as he thought. “You’re willing to let me stay because of your grandmother?”

He nodded. And hoped he looked sincere. It wasn’t entirely a lie. He very much needed her to stay because of Didi. Preferring the darkness of night was one thing, being eternally confined to it was another.

Annabelle pushed the door open a little wider and walked back into the room. “For her sake, then.”

With his relief, his smile became sincere. “Excellent.”

A small cow walked toward him and meowed. “What on earth is—Stanhill mentioned you brought your cat. He failed to mention the creature is the size of an SUV.”

She gave him the side eye. “His name is Captain. Don’t worry about getting to know him, he doesn’t like men.”

Captain continued his stroll toward Hugh, then wound around his legs like a furry snake. “Yes, I can see how much he loathes me.”

“Traitor,” she hissed.

Hugh gave Captain a scratch on the head. The beast was surprisingly silky. “I’m forgiven then?”

She tossed a pink, stuffed mouse across the room and the animal gave chase, leaving Hugh’s legs untangled. She tipped her head to one side as if considering her options. “For now.”

She gave no quarter. He kind of liked that. For a woman who knew exactly what he was, she certainly wasn’t intimidated. Maybe Didi knew what sort of woman worked for him after all. He grinned. “Good enough. I’ll see you downstairs then.”

She nodded. “Maybe you can give me a tour of the house then. Except for the basement, of course.”

He blinked at her mention of his lab. Stanhill must have said something. He recovered quickly, and smiled. “My pleasure.”

He headed back downstairs with the shocking realization that he actually meant what he’d said. Getting to know the curious Miss Givens might not be the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Delaney shut the door, then leaned against it, closed her eyes and exhaled the nervousness she’d been tamping down since Hugh had knocked on her door. She was so thankful she’d showered and put on a little makeup before going downstairs. Looking presentable had given her the courage to act exactly the way she thought Annabelle would in this situation, although some of the hurt had been real.

What if Annabelle had found out this guy never really wanted her? Kinda funny to think that here she, Delaney, had been so worried that he was going to send her away, when come to find out, he wasn’t even responsible for bringing her here.

Which maybe explained why the man was kind of an ass. Built like a superhero, stupidly beautiful and, okay, willing to apologize, which was more than she could say for Russell, but still an ass. Speaking of, she hadn’t gotten a good look at Hugh’s backside, but it was probably just as gorgeous as the rest of him. Dark hair, stare-right-through-you ice blue eyes with the body of an Olympic swimmer and a dash of dangerous thrown in on top of his bone-melting English accent. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something about the guy…something dark and a little feral.

And undeniably sexy.

Her eyes widened. She’d just moved in with James Bond. That was about as close as anyone could hope to get to a real-life superhero.

It wouldn’t be difficult spending time with a guy like that, but the best part was he
didn’t
plan on marrying her.

The relief of that coupled with the idea that he wasn’t being completely honest with her about
something
—maybe whatever was going on in the basement—made her feel slightly better for using his house as a hideout. Not that he owed her any kind of honesty. They’d known each other all of five minutes.

Still, it was a strange way for him to start a relationship with someone who could end up being his wife. If that was even what he was thinking. But he probably wasn’t. He hadn’t invited Annabelle Givens here, after all. If not for his desire to appease his grandmother, he might already have escorted her out the door. To avoid that happening before she was ready to leave, she needed to embrace her role as his prospective fiancée. The best course of action was to be sweet and nice and make him the focus of her attention. Basically, pretend he was a customer she was waiting on at the restaurant. She could do that. All. Day. Long.

Since she’d passed out as soon as she’d gotten into the room, she took a few minutes to fire up her laptop and log on. Captain was busy disemboweling his catnip mouse. She quickly scanned the New York news sites for mention of the shooting. Nothing. Frustrating. She was dying to know what was happening. Okay, bad choice of words.

She closed her laptop. She’d think about it later. Right now it was time to play the potential fiancée. She trotted downstairs, deliberately making her steps heard so there’d be no accidental eavesdropping again. Stanhill was alone in the kitchen, busy with dinner.

He smiled at her. “Master Ellingham is out on the back patio. Just through the foyer and out the French doors in the great room. You’ll see him.”

“Thank you.” She followed his directions, taking her time as she wandered through the house. The decorating was heavily masculine, but reserved and classy. Kind of British hunting lodge meets the Deep South. Each room was more impressive than the next. If Hugh had done the decorating, it said a lot about him. Like maybe she’d misjudged his being an ass based on one comment. Which, considering he hadn’t been the one behind bringing her here, was pretty excusable.

Sheers muted the view through the French doors. She opened them and took a breath. The garden beyond was charming. Very…English in that slightly constrained-but-overgrown-enough-to-look-lived-in sort of way. A few last rays of sun broke through the trees, giving everything a golden glow.

Except the man of the house.

Hugh stood in the shadows on the flagstone patio, a glass of red wine in his hand, looking very regal. And utterly handsome in black trousers and a crisp white shirt. If Delaney wasn’t careful, she might get her heart broken. He turned, a subtle smile erasing his serious resting face. “Hello again.”

“Hi.” She moved closer but not enough to invade his space. “This place…the house, the garden…it’s incredible.”

“Thank you. I’ve worked hard on it. My home is my sanctuary. But then I guess that’s true for most people.” He took a sip of his wine. “What’s your house like?”

She froze. Did Annabelle live in a house? An apartment? She had no idea.
He’s just a guest at the restaurant, keep him happy.
She laughed. “Nothing like this. Did you pick out everything yourself?”

He glanced toward the great room. “It’s really more of a collection than a deliberate act of decorating.”

If that was his idea of a collection, then her random assortment of candy molds was more like a flea market accident.

His gaze shifted to her in a very purposeful way. “I just like what I like.”

The little hairs on the back of her neck lifted the way they did when someone flirted with her. Was that where they were now? Flirting? She looked toward the garden and bit her tongue before her nerves caused her to blurt out a random chocolate fact.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a terrible host. I haven’t offered you a glass of wine. Red all right? It’s very good. Local, actually.”

Anything but Chianti was fine with her. “Great.” So long as she didn’t drink too much and forget who she was pretending to be.

“I’ll just be a moment.” He slipped inside.

Before she went to sleep tonight, she was going to Google Annabelle Givens and study that woman until she knew everything about her. Maybe that would help with her nerves.

Hugh returned and handed her a glass, then raised his in a toast. “To new beginnings?”

So much for keeping a safe distance from him. He was so close she could smell his cologne. It was spicy and complex, like good dark chocolate. Her mouth watered.
Down, girl.
“New beginnings.”

They clinked, then drank, and for a moment, she could picture herself in this place being the woman she was pretending to be. Sophisticated, cultured and assuredly beautiful Annabelle Givens. Annabelle had to be that kind of woman, or Adelaide Poirot never would have matched her with a man like Hugh.