In the Heat of the Bite (17 page)

The crack of a broken twig behind her caught Rhiannon’s attention. She stood, closed her eyes, and spread her hands flat by her sides, and then she raised her palms as though she was lifting a heavy box onto a high shelf. As her hands rose, so did the mist. Fog was quite cumbersome, the weight of it a burden as she lifted it from the damp, night earth.

One would think it might be light and airy, but it held so much moisture that lifting and lowering it could be a trial. Yet she did so with ease, having done it many times before. She dusted her hands together. There. Now she could be alone with her thoughts. No one could see through the mist. No one would even know she was there.

She needed to practice, to prove to herself that her powers weren’t out of control. That she was fully capable of wielding them all with the precision and dedication that was just part of her nature.

Rhiannon raised her index finger to her mouth, blew gently across it, and twirled her finger in the air. A small whirlwind appeared, dancing across the mossy earth with abandon. The circular bit of moving air behaving so precisely made her want to dance on her tiptoes with glee. She still had it. She could still wield her magic with deadly precision.

She clapped her hands together and the whirlwind came to an immediate stop, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived.

“Well done,” a voice called from a few steps behind her. Rhiannon spun to find the Marquess of Eynsford standing in the shadow the moon cast from her body.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are ye doin’ here?”

He made a tsking sound. “I could ask you the same question, lass. Isn’t it time for all good little witches to be in bed?”

“If only I was a good little witch,” Rhiannon murmured as she flopped onto the bench.

He sat down casually beside her. “Nice fog, by the way,” he tossed out as he appraised the thick mass of swirling white. “Reminds me of the time I found you on Arthur’s Seat.” He nodded in appreciation. “Well done.”

“I’m so glad ye like it,” Rhiannon said. She’d only wanted to be alone for a little while. And already her peace was shattered. “Why did ye follow me?”

He shrugged nonchalantly and then tapped his ear. “Lycan ears. I couldn’t help but hear you skulking around Thorpe House.”

“I wasna skulkin’,” she protested.

“Skulking. Creeping. Escaping.” His eyebrows rose on the last as he regarded her with a question in his gaze. “Besides, Cait would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you. So, I followed.”

“Ye smelled me through the fog,” Rhiannon said as she choked back a giggle. Of course, he did. Why did that seem so absurd?

“I’m glad you find my senses to be humorous.” He shot her a quelling glance, but it only made her laugh more loudly. “You, Miss Sinclair, need to be more careful. If I found my way through your fog, other Lycans could as well.”

“I’m no’ afraid of Lycans.” She squared her shoulders. “How many of ye are there anyway?”

“Enough that you should take care,” he warned. Then he inhaled deeply. “Something tells me I will regret asking this, but what were you doing when I arrived?”

“Do ye always stick yer snout inta other people’s business?” she quipped.

“When the person’s safety is at risk, I have been known to do so,” he replied, not even perturbed by her little barb. “My snout, my fangs, and my shaggy tail, if it’s needed.”

Rhiannon harrumphed and then decided to tell him the truth. After all, it didn’t appear as though he would be leaving any time soon. So, she could either divulge her little practice session or she could give up the chance to have one. “I was practicin’, if ye must ken.”

“That little whirlwind was adorable,” he said slowly, watching her face.

“Adorable?” She jumped to her feet. “I will have ye ken that I can create whirlwinds that will pick ye up off that bench and toss ye inta the next county.”

He crossed an ankle over his knee and regarded his fingernails. “Prove it,” he taunted.

“I doona have ta prove anythin’ ta ye,” she said, ready to stamp her feet in frustration.

“No, you don’t. You need to prove it to yourself.” He said this quietly, but it hit her like a ton of stone. “And since I have no plans to leave you out here alone, you can either go back with me now or get this
practice
out of your system. Personally, I’ve always enjoyed your magic. Cait’s powers are fairly passive. I’m awed by the more active ones. Unless you’re afraid to have an audience, of course.” He let the last hang in the air.

Rhiannon stretched out her arms and made the circle of fog grow wider, allowing herself more space to work. She picked up a pebble from the path nearby and tossed it to him. He caught it without even looking. She pointed toward the stars. “If ye’ll do the honors?”

Eynsford heaved the stone high into the air, and when it reached its highest peak, Rhiannon stuck out her index finger and shot a lightning bolt toward it, breaking it into a handful of tiny pieces that rained down around them.

“Nicely done,” he said. “Try it again.” This time, he retrieved a rock himself and tossed it high into the air. This second one exploded when the burst of energy from the tip of her finger scored it into pieces. “How do you do that without the crack of thunder pounding around us?”

She shrugged. “If I create a storm, I can create thunder. That little trick is just a bolt of lightnin’. It’s no’ enough ta cause thunder ta rumble.”

He nodded as though he understood. And she imagined he probably did.

Rhiannon raised her finger to her mouth and blew and then spun the finger in a circle as she had earlier. The tiny whirlwind picked up the scattered pieces of stone and held them within its funnel. When the air stopped moving, it dropped them all onto the bench beside the marquess. He looked at her with astonishment.

“I had no idea you could achieve such precision.”

“I canna remember a time when I couldna do that. I think I learned it when I was still in the cradle.” She heaved a sigh.

“Then why the devil did you create such havoc at that ball? If you’re capable of this,” he motioned toward the pile of stones, “why did your powers go off so unpredictably?”

“A fatal flaw,” she said quietly. “The more nervous I get, the harder my powers are ta control.”

“And what makes you nervous?” He appeared to be thoroughly enraptured by the conversation.

“Things beyond my control,” she admitted. “My life in Edinburgh is very ordered and normal. Well, normal for me.”

“And nothing about London is ordered. I understand.” He coughed into his hand before he continued. “Does Blodswell have anything to do with this?”

“I doona ken.” And she didn’t. She had no idea what role he would play in her life going forward. “He has promised ta help me. Ta make me appear more respectable. Since he has an enviable title, more money than anyone I ken, and fits well within society if he chooses.”

“Yes, I had thought to offer one of my brothers for your use, but none of them fit that description.” He grinned with what was obvious pride.

“And ye’d no’ have them any other way.”

“Exactly.” He smiled at her as he tossed one of the stone fragments into the fog. “What else can you do?”

“Magically?” she asked.

“No, as in personally.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Of course, I mean magically. I don’t need to know about your embroidery or your watercolors. Those things bore me to death.”

“Me, too, which is why I canna do them.” She laughed lightly. “But I can make storms, lightnin’, thunder, snow, rain…”

“Can you make rainbows?”

She nodded. “I can place them in the sky as though they’re meant ta be there.”

“I thought as much.” He motioned toward her fog. “If you’re done practicing for the night, I’ll see you home.”

Was she done? She assumed she was. Besides it wasn’t fair to keep him from the comforts of his bed to watch over her. Rhi shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“Do me a favor,” he said as he directed her back toward his home in Mayfair, “and try not to sneak out more than once a week. I do like my sleep. I can give you a place to practice at Thorpe House. I want to see more of your powers anyway. They’re interesting.”

“Ye are truly interested in my powers?” Certainly, he was just trying to save her feelings.

“Of course I am. I can already envision the merry chase you’ll lead Blodswell on. Be sure to use plenty of lightning. And that fog would be fun for a man to lose himself in, but he can smell almost as well as a Lycan, so don’t assume it will protect you from him.” He chuckled. “Oh!” he cried dramatically. “Do you think you could shoot the buttons off his waistcoat with that lightning? Without causing permanent harm, of course?”

“I’m certain I could.”

He laughed even more loudly. “I would pay money to see that.” He chuckled all the way back to Thorpe House.

Rhi shushed him as they stepped through the door. He tried to look repentant but failed. Cait sat up in the oversized chair where she had been curled up, waiting, her dressing gown covered by a thick lap quilt. “Is everythin’ all right?” she asked.

Eynsford scooped her up in his arms and spoke softly to her. “Everything is fine, love. She just needed some practice.”

“See ye in the morning, Rhi,” Cait called quietly over his shoulder, before something he did made her giggle, and he dashed up the stairs with her.

Could she knock Blodswell’s buttons off his waistcoat? She’d have to try it and see. That thought made her giggle. She was a formidable witch. She just needed an opportunity to prove it to herself every now and again.

Raucous laughter filtered down the corridor from the breakfast room. Rhiannon shook her head at the sound, unsure what else to do. Lycans were most definitely a different breed. They seemed like overgrown lads with endless amounts of energy and no control over the amount of havoc they wreaked. In fact, the sounds emanating from belowstairs seemed more fitting for a seedy, dockside pub in the wee hours of the morning than an immaculate home in Berkeley Square.

Despite her reservations about dining with Eynsford’s rowdy pack, Rhiannon continued toward the breakfast room. Just before she reached the threshold, the room went silent. They must have heard her approach. Rhiannon stepped into the room to find the three Hadley men sitting at the table, not a morsel of food anywhere in sight. The lot of them leapt to their feet at her entrance, and Gray—at least she thought it was Gray—toppled his chair over in his haste. She stifled a giggle.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Lord Radbourne tipped his head in greeting.

“Morning, Miss Sinclair,” the twins said in unison.

Rhi smiled at the trio. “What a surprise ta see all of ye here this mornin’.” It wasn’t a surprise at all, but her comment sounded better than her thoughts, which were about why they had to make her breakfast a rowdy affair.

“The food’s much better here,” Gray admitted as he righted his chair.

“As is the company.” Radbourne winked at her. He held out the chair beside him and Rhiannon slid into the offered seat. Then he gestured for a footman. “Coffee for Miss Sinclair, please.”

“Thank ye.”

All three Hadley men resumed their seats, and Rhiannon looked to her side to find the viscount grinning at her. “Radiant as sunshine.”

“Ye are doin’ it up a bit brown, my lord,” she chided him.

Radbourne feigned a wounded heart by pressing a hand to his chest. “Ah, the unkindest cut of all.”

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “I believe ye have missed yer callin’, Lord Radbourne. Ye should have been a thespian.”

“Archer,” he insisted. “If you’re going to berate me, sweetheart, you should at least call me by my Christian name when you do so.”

“I hardly think that would be proper.”

Radbourne chuckled. “Nothing proper is worth doing.”

“Here, here,” Wes agreed with a grin.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Archer.” Rhiannon grinned at the scoundrel. She just couldn’t help it. The viscount was charming in a roguish sort of way.

A cough sounded in the doorway. “Oh, for the love of God,” the Marquess of Eynsford grumbled from the threshold. “What the devil are the three of you doing here? Didn’t I toss all of you out last night?”

“You said we could attempt to return this morning,” Wes offered from his seat beside his twin. “Price
did
admit us.”

Eynsford’s dark golden brows rose. “I shall have to have a long conversation with my butler in that case.” Then his eyes landed on Rhiannon, and the marquess smiled. “Good morning, my dear. So sorry to subject you to this unruly lot so early in the morning.”

Rhiannon grinned in return. “Actually, I quite enjoy them.” And she did. Having only been raised with a sister, Rhi found the Hadley men and their highly improper interactions fairly amusing, even if they did inhale every morsel of food there was to be had.

Radbourne puffed out his chest at her comment, preening in his seat.

Eynsford sighed as though he suffered the never-ending punishment of Sisyphus, and then he strode farther into the room. The marquess took his spot at the head of the table and narrowed his eyes on the viscount beside him. “Archer.”

“Dashiel,” Radbourne returned with the same smug tone to his voice.

“Caitrin informs me your mother wishes to see you.”

The viscount shrugged. “Your wife is meddlesome.”

“Something you knew the first moment you met her. Pray do not change the subject. Lady Radbourne wishes for you to visit her.”

“My mother will be quite disappointed then, will she not?”

The twins chuckled, and Eynsford’s gaze swung in their direction. “Something one of you would like to say?”

Wes looked down at his empty plate.

Gray shook his head. “And deal with Archer’s wrath? I’ll hold my tongue.”

Eynsford’s eyes scanned the room, finally settling on the empty sideboard along the far wall. “Did you eat
all
of my food?”

“Cook is preparing more,” Wes informed him cheerily.

“You do have your own lodgings,” Eynsford grumbled.

“Yes, but we enjoy it here much more.” Gray smiled at the marquess. “Besides, I wanted to entice Miss Sinclair to take a turn about the park with me today.”