Vampire Lords of Blacknall: Trinity (17 page)

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.”

“God has not damned vampires after all.” Church’s dark blue eyes glittered with intensity.

“What do you mean?” Trinity and Baptiste spoke at once.

“Companions,” Christian/ responded with awe.

Church nodded with his gaze narrowing as he turned it to each of them. “What is before us we
must
admit.”

Trinity looked between Christian and Church not understanding.

“God makes counterparts of the soul and spirit for us all,” Christian paused. “Even those that appeared damned.”

Christian’s words were compelling as always and Trinity nearly leaped to an age-old argument between them. Could there even be a God that allowed such thing as vampires to exist? He ground his fangs shut with his bared chest heaving as he clenched his fists. Just thinking the words “his wife” filled him with purpose, strength,
and
rightness.

“If you thought you had trouble keeping control, this will test every ounce of willpower you possess,” Baptist stated flatly.

“But you did control it,” Church reminded them, with conviction so deep it resounded in all of them.

“I did,” Baptiste replied. “Although I’ve not been tested to the point I’ve seen Trinity has.”

“I
will
control it,” Trinity growled. “Now,” he finished. Now that he was beginning to understand.

“Stay blooded,” Baptiste advised. “More than you think you need, more often.”

Trinity nodded, shaking out his shirt, and asking Baptiste, “What are you going to do, brother?”

He watched Baptiste take a forced breath, as he said, “Find a way to make her mine.” Baptiste added, “Watch you for guidance.”

“Will you turn her … turn them?” Christian asked. He was their soul, but also plain speaking.

Trinity began putting on his wet shirt, as he said, “It would grieve me to take her humanity. Yet I fear I already have.”

“The blood.” Baptiste nodded in understanding. “I truly thought the addiction would lessen and leave.”

“Blood?” both Church and Christian asked echoing each other.

Trinity began tying his shirt closed, as he said, “Beth and Irene have both tasted our blood, and they hunger for more.”

Baptiste said, “I’ve given my blood before to the poor feeder souls without this reaction. It has to be this connection between us that makes them different.”

Trinity reached down and pushed the tail ends of his wet shirt into his trousers, as Christian clasped his shoulder asking, “What will you do?”

“I don’t think I have a choice. I need to convince my wife to love me, or I will live in agony the rest of my life, where you’ll probably have to cage me against this possessiveness I feel.”

Church whistled with the sounds of “what an enormous undertaking,” then he added with a huff, “Seems as if I’m going to have to do the blasted ball by myself.”

Trinity faced him. “This is why you wanted Beth in London?” Church nodded, looking aggravated, and Trinity said, “I’m sorry, brother.”

He meant to say so much more, but he knew Church knew that as they embraced.

Chapter Nineteen

T
he day after her wedding, when the darker fingers of dusk had just begun stretching across the olive-shaded moors, Beth stood on the expansive back lawns at Crescent Moor estate. Earlier, she was drawn outside after trying to eat and failing, only managing a few small bites. The Blacknall servants had treated her like royalty. Her every need was catered to, until she felt uncomfortable, simply because she wasn’t used to such indulgences on her behalf. They’d not missed a step since she’d arrived unexpectedly.

In fact, Maven, the estate’s housekeeper, said they were used to the Lords of Blacknall arriving individually or together without warning. Beth did notice, however, that Maven could not hide her surprise at Beth’s claim to be married to one of the Lords of Blacknall. Maven had asked her twice and it had taken the carriage driver calling her Countess Montrose before Maven’s lips had ceased pursing and she’d become welcoming.

In the near dusk out on the edge of the moors, Beth wore a serviceable dark blue linen gown she’d been able to purchase on one of the stops before reaching Crescent Moor. Now she had two gowns to move between and not much else. The shawl she wore was borrowed from Maven and her shoes … well, she still wore the slippers she’d had on for the ball.

She glanced down at her wet slippers. They weren’t very useful outdoors, but she wouldn’t let her lack of proper shoes hold back her need to experience the beauty of the fells and heaths. She’d never had a chance to travel, and the vista before her snatched her breath away. A gentle wind tugged her skirts and moved the tall grasses like softly moving seas across the moorlands. She would have to find shoes soon so that she could wander and perhaps exorcise the wildness she felt inside her.

Trinity, Trinity.

“Damn him,” she exclaimed, beating a fist against her thigh, trying to rid her continuous thoughts of him. “Leave me alone.” She uttered each word, turning toward the east as though to wring him from her soul.

“Trinity!”

She gasped, feeling as if someone had punched her, and she might be seeing a hallucination. She clenched her eyes closed, and then opened them again. Trinity, her husband, still stood there, not five steps from her.

His dark-streaked blonde hair hung loose in a chopped mass to his shoulders. His chin was shadowed with the beginning of a beard and his irises, which went from blue to black in her memory, were startling and intense dark sapphire. His clothing looked disheveled and he had no jacket on. She remembered she had his jacket and she could hardly believe he’d not replaced it within the amount of time they’d been apart.

She looked at the moors, then she looked back at him in the dwindling twilight. “Are you really here?” She barely breathed. Her words seemed to break some type of command he was held to, because he started to walk slowly toward her.