Well, one look at Sarah made the answer obvious. Althea’s heart gave a twinge of pain.
The girl was perhaps eighteen and a bonny thing. She wore a simple dress with a low bodice and her breasts spilled over top. Her shift covered the plump mounds but it was laundered to a fine translucence and was barely decent. The dress tucked in to a neat little waist, then swelled once more about generous hips.
Althea found it impossible not to stare at Sarah’s lush figure. Her breasts wobbled in a captivating way as Sarah told her story with expansive waving of her small hands. Bastien’s naughty stories about women dallying with other women tormented Althea as she tried to listen.
Look at the poor girl’s face
, she chided herself. And she tried, valiantly.
Sarah didn’t seem to notice her wandering gaze, thank goodness. The girl leaned forward.
“But it weren’t.”
“Weren’t?” She’d lost the thread.
“’Is lordship. ’E was a gent though. And ‘e was nude. Starkers. In ‘is full naked glory, and a broader chest, I never did see. Me arms sort of flew about his waist when I were caught all surprised and I got a hold of his arse. ’Is cheeks were so snug and small and tight in me hands, like a couple of firm apples.”
It wasn’t his lordship? Not only were her cheeks on fire but her blood was almost boiling, and she was pacing about. Sarah’s colorful description matched Yannick, but also—
“’E has lovely long golden hair,” Sarah continued. “And when he caught put ‘is lips to my neck, I caught a hank of it to steady meself.”
“Bastien.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss?” Sarah’s eyes narrowed and her tongue made a light clucking noise. Disapproval.
A hysterical giggle hovered on Althea’s lips. Apparently the maid thought she’d muttered the word
bastard
.
Which she had every right to do, for Bastien had professed his love and then went around snatching innocent maids. Of course, not once had Bastien promised to be faithful—
This time the giggle broke free. Faithful! Was she mad? She’d made love to both twins, she could hardly expect both men to pledge fidelity to her, could she? And she’d made love to Bastien after watching—oh, she still flushed with shock to think of it—him enjoy sexual pleasures with another man. She’d known perfectly well that Bastien didn’t intend to forsake all others for her.
“Do you wish to ’ear the rest of me story, Miss?” Sarah interrupted.
Althea realized she’d stalked to the window and now stood with her back to the girl. She turned. “Do go on,” she urged.
“Well, I thought he meant to swive me, though most coves don’t strip to the all-together to Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 136
force themselves on a lass. He had quite the broadsword—“
“He was armed?” As soon as she spoke, she realized what the maid had meant.
“No, Miss.” Sarah flushed. “’Is prick, I meant. Ye know, ’is Member for Cockshire.”
Althea put the flat of her hand against the aging wardrobe. The maids certainly possessed a varied vocabulary for male private parts, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear more.
She was becoming quite a perverted individual. She must call a stop to this—
“But ’e just bit me.” Sarah stroked her neck. “’E promised it wouldn’t hurt and ’e had this husky, deep voice that sort of mesmerized me. I couldn’t move me own two feet. There was a bit o’ pain. Just a wee bit. And then this wonderful feeling came over me. It were like tupping, but so much better. And even though he didn’t touch me melons or me quim, I exploded. Oh, but of course ye wouldn’t know, Miss.”
Startled, Althea only gaped at the girl. Quick thinking had her demurely agreeing,
“Er…no.” Once she would have reproved the girl for her vulgar speech, but now she found her tongue tripping about in her mouth. Straightening it, she managed, “We needn’t have improper descriptions, Sarah. But please continue.”
“No, Miss. I didn’t mean to be crude. But that was the way of it. I were gasping and heaving and ’e laughed. ’E gave me neck a lick and then just seemed to vanish into the air. I saw a great big bat and so I raced inside—me feet could move all of a sudden, though I almost fell headlong into the pantry.”
Althea began to understand Yannick’s attitude toward his twin. Bastien was incorrigible.
To bite Sarah in a place he might easily be caught was foolish enough, but to neglect to heal her wound or erase her memory of the incident was completely…well, insane.
Given his nature, Bastien no doubt enjoyed spreading panic and fear by not being circumspect about his hungers. After all, he enjoyed whippings…which of society’s rules would really matter to him?
As she mulled over Bastien’s brazen behavior, she realized her heart was completely confused. She had much more in common with Yannick, despite his status as earl, but she couldn’t resist the charming scoundrel that was Bastien. He promised the forbidden, the dangerous, the sinful, and she hungered for a taste.
“Do yer think ’e’ll come after me again?” Sarah asked.
“No, he most definitely will not. I will make certain of that.”
“Oo, ’ow will you do that, Miss?”
Sarah’s question brought her up short. She’d spoken without thinking.
“Do you ’unt vampires, then?” Sarah’s eyes were wide with astonishment and respect. For a moment, Althea preened beneath the girl’s awe.
“Coo, I’d love to ’unt vampires.”
Althea realized Sarah assumed she hunted gorgeous, naked men about the countryside.
Which she did, at times, but not all vampires were handsome and charming men. Some were hideous beasts, white and grotesque. Others were mindless demons, driven only by the thirst for blood. The undead came in many guises.
“It is a very dangerous profession and—” Althea broke off. The words
and not suitable for
a young woman
died upon her lips. She’d felt a distinct sisterly urge to deter the younger, naïve woman from danger, but that was the reasoning that all men used around her—now, even Father.
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“You could hunt vampires, if you wish, but there are many skills you would have to learn first. You would have to train with an experienced hunter and read…yes, lots of reading. About legends and history and ancient civilizations.”
“Could you teach me?”
“I don’t think so, Sarah. Now, you don’t feel unwell, do you? Not weak or dizzy?”
“Oh no, Miss. I’m right as rain.”
“I think you should rest before you go down to work—”
“Crenshaw won’t abide with that.”
“Then I will speak with Mr. Crenshaw. As for you, Sarah, don’t tell anyone else your story.”
The girl’s blue eyes lowered, her gaze riveted to the floor. Which meant the girl had already shared her tale—likely with every servant she’d encountered.
Blast.
As Sarah stood up, her pretty face turned serious. “If ‘e does come back, Miss, I’ll tell ye about it,” she vowed.
“Don’t go seeking danger, Sarah,” Althea warned. “Not all vampires are as charming and…considerate as the one you encountered.” She didn’t want Sarah trolling for another encounter with Bastien—and not just because of the jealousy spearing her heart. The image of that girl on the field, drenched with rain and covered with blood, would be forever seared in her mind. What if Sarah encountered Zayan? She caught hold of Sarah’s hand. “There is a vampire prowling the village who is neither gentle nor charming. He’s a vicious monster and if he bit you, he would kill you.”
“Ooh, I’d not want that!”
“No, of course not. You must take care after dark, Sarah. And so must other girls.” The way Sarah described Bastien, what young maiden wouldn’t hope to meet a vampire? Althea gave as vivid a description of Zayan as she could, enhancing the details of fangs and red eyes and brutal strength, until Sarah was quaking.
Wide-eyed, Sarah promised she would warn every young woman or child that she saw.
Then, Althea propelled the girl toward the door. She really must see how Father was feeling. But she couldn’t stop wondering. Would Bastien return? Or now that he was free, would he return to his wild life with Zayan—the one he was once addicted to? Would the twins return that night for her?
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Althea stared in astonishment at the tray Mick O’Leary held. “Sausages! I really don’t think he’s strong enough for sausages.”
Mr. O’Leary gave a shrug, twinkled his eyes at her, and nodded toward Father’s closed door.
“He smelled them cooking and told me to fetch him some.”
She rolled her eyes. “Take them back down and have the cook make beef tea.” But she did retrieve the teapot and cup from the tray before Mr. O’Leary turned away with it.
No matter what she might see, she promised herself to put on a cheerful face. After all, they’d weathered Father’s injuries during battles with vampires. Once, after a fierce fight, they’d had to spend months at an abbey while Father’s broken limbs healed.
Balancing the tray, Althea opened the door and strode into Father’s room.
But her steps faltered. He looked so small, as though he’d shrunk overnight. His face was ashen. The hands lying on his quilt were white and his skin appeared thin as parchment, crisscrossed with blue veins. His lids flickered as she approached the bed, then opened slowly.
A weak smile touched his lips as he saw her.
She’d not expected him to still look quite so ill. Her hands wobbled. The tray made a clatter as she placed it on his bedside table. Steam wafted up from the tea as she filled a cup.
“How are you feeling?”
His hand shook as he reached out for the tea. “Improving, lass, and the sight of you alive and well does much to make me better.”
She clasped his other hand. Once again she choked on her guilt. “I spoke to Mr. Crenshaw, Father. There’s a doctor in Stropshire Downs, only an hour by carriage. I’ve sent for him.”
He lifted his cup and it bumped against his lips as he trembled. “I’ve no need of a doctor.”
“You do, Father.”
And all this was my fault
.
“What happened to you last night, lovey? And I want the truth.”
Even though his spectacles sat on the table, and he surely couldn’t focus properly on her, she flinched at his gaze.
“Bastien…Bastien de Wynter came to my room last night, Father.” She had to give him some truth—but not enough to give him another attack.
Tea sloshed from the cup.
She half rose over him.
“No,” he waved his hand. “What did Bastien de Wynter do to you?”
“Nothing…he just talked to me.” Which was true, but she wouldn’t ever divulge what Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 139
Bastien had talked about. Now that admission could very well kill Father.
“Did he?” Father’s eyes narrowed.
She nodded with a guilty swallow. “I don’t know if he intended to bite me; he did not try.
But then Y—the earl came to…to protect me.”
“So the Demon Twins are fighting over you, lass.” He sank back. “I feared this. That one day a vampire would fall in love with you, would do anything to possess you.”
“In love with me!” Althea colored. She felt the burn all over her face.
“Lass, please, I couldn’t bear to lose you to a vampire, for the only way either of the de Wynters could claim you is to turn you.”
She jerked with shock, rocking the bed enough that his tea spilled again. “How clumsy,”
she cried, “Let me—”
“What else happened, pet. Did they lure you outside?”
“I wasn’t bitten, Father, I swear it. And Bastien left, you see. But the earl was able to make a mental connection with his twin and saw him in danger with Zayan—”
“So you went in pursuit of bloody Zayan!” He tried to straighten. His saucer hit the floor with a crash. Slivers of crockery flew.
“With his lordship. And he was most reluctant to take me. I insisted, but he kept me from harm. And we rescued Bastien.” Her story was tumbling out in a confusing mess. “From what the earl saw, I realized where Zayan is.”
She expected Father to pounce upon that. To demand to know where Zayan was. Instead he pressed his free hand to his heart. “And you went there. In the company of a vampire earl!”
“Is your heart—?”
“A wee pain. And not important compared to this! God in heaven, Althea, they could have killed you.”
“No, Father, I trust Yannick.”
She might as well have prodded him with a hot poker. “Yannick!” he roared at her use of the earl’s Christian name. His cheeks flamed bright red, and the flush raced up to his forehead.
“And you trust him, you say! A vampire! You never—
never
—trust a vampire.”
“But I can,” she insisted, launching up from the bed. “Never once has he bitten me or hurt me.” But she sank back down. Protesting was only making him more upset.
He sighed, groaned, and sank back against the mound of pillows. “Oh, lass. You’re clever and brave. I’ve never doubted that for a moment. But you are too much of a temptation for a vampire.”
That startled. Temptation in what way?
“Where is he, then?” He was angry still, even as he took another drink of his tea.
“Chatham House. The one for let—Zayan has rented it. And he keeps his coffin in the mausoleum.” How much to reveal? She faltered at the thought of explaining about the big bed, the whips upon the walls.
To hide her nerves, she took Father’s cup and dutifully poured more tea. A rap at the door announced the return of the tray. Sarah carried it and gave her a little bobbed curtsy. This was much better for an invalid. A large dish held steaming beef tea, and a plate was piled with biscuits. A small plate held a pat of butter.
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