In the Heat of the Bite (18 page)

Wes’ mouth fell open in surprise. “You lout!
I
had planned to entice Miss Sinclair with a ride in the park today.”

Eynsford cleared his throat until all attention focused on him. The marquess’ amber eyes twinkled with mirth. “Well, Rhiannon, you have two gentlemen vying for your attention this afternoon. They are nearly interchangeable and bookends of each other. Might I suggest the flipping of a coin to decide your fate?”

“I say,” Lord Radbourne’s voice rose above the din of the twins’ outraged responses, “as the oldest, I trump both of them.”

Rhiannon wasn’t certain what to say. She’d never had so much male attention in all her life. No one had ever fought over spending time with her in Edinburgh. Of course, here she was a novelty, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew their fascination with her would soon wane. Being sought after was nice, though none of the men in the breakfast room held her interest the way Lord Blodswell did. She found herself wishing desperately that the earl was beside her.

“Mornin’,” Cait nearly sang from the doorway.

All four men came to their feet as Cait bustled into the breakfast room. Eynsford dropped a kiss on her brow. “Morning, Caitie.”

She turned her attention to the table. “Ye all are lookin’ so dashin’ this mornin’.” Then she walked the perimeter of the table before sliding into a seat beside Rhiannon. “We are goin’ shoppin’ today.”

“We are?”

“Mmm,” Cait agreed with a nod. “We need ta find somethin’ new and expensive for the Duchess of Hythe’s soiree.”

At the head of the table, Eynsford groaned. “Hythe?”

His wife graced him with a beatific smile. “Did I forget ta tell ye, Dash? Her Grace has invited us along with Rhi ta attend a soiree at the end of the week.”

“Us?” Gray sat forward in his seat.

“Well, no’ all of us,” Cait amended. “But I’m sure ye gentlemen will find somethin’ ta keep yer interests for one evenin’.”

“Tell me you’re not really going to make me call on the Duchess of Hythe,” Eynsford grumbled.

Caitrin shot him a cheeky grin. “Well, ye doona have ta escort me, Dashiel. I’m sure Lord Blodswell willna mind havin’ Rhi on one arm and me on the other.” She ignored the low growl emanating from her husband, gestured to a footman for a cup of coffee, and turned her attention back to Rhiannon. “I’m thinkin’ somethin’ green ta match yer eyes. What do ye think?”

Rhiannon was fairly certain her eyes were hazel.

“I think,” Lord Radbourne cut in, “you lovely ladies will need someone to carry your boxes. Might I offer my assistance?”

Bond Street was an experience. Cait had shuffled Rhi in and out of more than a dozen shops and did not appear to be tiring in the least. Rhiannon was glad to have Radbourne’s company. He did make the excursion more enjoyable simply by needling Cait. No one ever did that, not if they knew what was good for them; but Radbourne, or Archer as he’d insisted Rhi call him, didn’t seem concerned in the least. Then again, the man didn’t know he was accompanying a pair of witches, either.

Just as they were about to step into a tiny dress shop, Cait narrowed her eyes on the Lycan. “Archer Hadley, ye are excused for the rest of the day.”

A wolfish grin settled on his face. “Who will carry your boxes, Lady Eynsford?”

“A footman.” Her brow rose imperiously. “They are paid ta do such chores, after all.”

Archer turned his stare to Rhiannon. “I do believe the marchioness has tired of my company.” He waggled his brow flirtatiously. “Pray say I haven’t done the same to you, sweetheart.”

Rhiannon laughed. There was nothing else to do. “No’ ta worry, good sir. I quite enjoy yer company.”

“See,” Archer said to his sister-in-law. “You’re the only one annoyed with me.”

“Doona forget yer mother. She’s quite annoyed.”

“How can I,” the viscount grumbled, “when you’re constantly reminding me of the fact?”

Cait rolled her eyes.

“Ah, Miss Sinclair,” came a warm voice behind Rhiannon. Just the sound of it made shivers race across her skin.

She glanced over her shoulder to find the Earl of Blodswell’s black eyes focused on her, and she nearly sighed. “My lord,” she breathed out, the memory of their kiss still fresh in her mind.

He looked more pale than she remembered, a bit haunted. Before she could wonder at that, his gaze lowered to her lips and Rhi’s cheeks warmed. “What a pleasant surprise.” Then Blodswell glanced at her companions. “Lady Eynsford, Radbourne.”

“Lord Blodswell,” Cait gushed. “I had a feelin’ we’d see ye today.”

“Did you?” The earl’s eyes twinkled. “Well, how fortunate for me. Are you just beginning a shopping excursion?”

Rhiannon shook her head. “I am hopin’ that it’s come ta an end.”

Cait grumbled something unintelligible under her breath. Whatever it was made Lord Radbourne choke on a laugh, and his face turned slightly red.

Rhi leaned toward the viscount. “Are ye quite all right, Archer?”

Beside her, Lord Blodswell stiffened, and his eyes narrowed on the viscount. “One wouldn’t think to find you escorting ladies down Bond Street, Radbourne.”

Archer shrugged. “Well, one wouldn’t think to find your kind walking around in broad daylight either, Blodswell. How
do
you do that?”

“Archer!” Cait reprimanded.

“By putting one foot in front of the other,” Blodswell replied dryly. “Much easier with two feet than four.”

“This is hardly the place, gentlemen.” Cait glanced over her shoulder at the other shoppers bustling up and down the street. More than one curious glare was pointed in their direction.

“Some beasts simply cannot be taken out in polite company.” Blodswell sighed dramatically. Rhi suppressed a giggle at Archer’s hangdog expression, which couldn’t be further from what he was feeling, if the ire in his eyes was any indication.

“You think this is humorous, do you, Rhiannon?” Archer asked, his eyebrow arched playfully. “That the good night-dweller is offended at the very idea of Bond Street going to the dogs?” He grinned widely. Blodswell stiffened beside her and crossed his arms over his chest.

However, Archer’s self-deprecating humor was infectious. And Rhiannon found herself pinching her lips closed to keep from laughing aloud.

“Ye had better behave yerself!” Cait scolded the Lycan.

“Or what? You’ll make me run back home? Or simply put me on a leash?” He pretended to weigh his options. “That leash idea actually sounds like my idea of a good time.”

Cait’s face reddened, but Rhiannon wasn’t entirely certain why.

“There are some things that should not be discussed with such frivolity,” Blodswell said crisply. He shot Cait an apologetic glance, which made her blush even more.
He
knew why Cait was flustered all of a sudden? Why didn’t Rhi know?

“Archer Hadley!” Cait finally bit out. “I
will
tell Dash if ye keep this up.”

Archer appraised his fingernails with little concern for her outburst. But he suddenly leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “My apologies about the leash comment,” she heard him mutter to her. “I had no idea you and Dash played that way…” He let the rest trail off, an unrepentant grin on his face. “My behavior is not usually this poor. From this moment forth, I’ll tuck my tail and heel when you ask.”

“A likely tale,” Blodswell muttered.

“At least I have the courtesy of not showing up smelling like…” Archer leaned close to the earl and sniffed dramatically, as only a wolf could possibly do. Then he finished with a shudder and the word “livestock.”

Blodswell advanced toward the viscount, taking one large step, but Rhiannon slid between them. “Doona listen ta him,” she said softly. “He’s only tryin’ ta provoke ye.”

“I do not smell like sheep,” he grumbled.

“I never said anything about sheep,” Archer taunted from behind Rhiannon.

Archer yelped when Cait smacked the back of his head. She pointed her index finger down the street. “Ta the coach with ye.”

“I hope you have a whole litter just like the Hadleys one day,” he teased Cait.

“And have ta raise two sets of ye? First ye and yer brothers and then a litter of my own? The fates would never punish me that way.” She shoved his shoulder and pushed him down the street. Rhiannon turned to follow them. “Oh, no, you doona even think it!” Cait cried as she spun around. “I just remembered that I need some ribbons.”

“Ribbons?” Surely, ribbons were not that important. They could wait.

“Yes, green. Green ribbons. I canna do without them. I need them for yer dress. For the Duchess of Hythe’s soiree.”

Rhiannon sighed heavily. “Then let’s go and find ribbons.”

“No, no. I have ta take Archer home before Blodswell does him bodily harm.” She shoved the viscount’s shoulder again when he made a move to protest. “Lord Blodswell, would ye be so kind as ta escort Rhiannon inta Grafton House? The line’s always so long. I should return before ye’re even helped.”

“I would be honored,” he said quickly as he offered Rhi his arm and raised his brows in invitation.

“But,” Rhiannon protested feebly.

“But, nothin’,” Cait called over her shoulder, already crossing the street. “I’ll be back in a trice. But if ye get started without me, the green must match yer eyes. Otherwise, there’s no point ta it. So, do take yer time.”

Rhiannon groaned aloud as she took Blodswell’s arm. “They’re no’ green, they’re hazel. How on earth am I supposed ta find ribbons that match my eye color?”

Blodswell peered down at her, his midnight eyes twinkling. “You do have the prettiest flecks of green in your eyes. I imagine I could help with the chore of finding the right color, dearest.”

“Chore indeed. I wish Blaire was here so she could set Cait ta rights.”

“I can just imagine the sparks that would fly with those two in the same room,” Blodswell chuckled.

“I keep forgettin’ ye have met Blaire. And her husband, for that matter.” She looked up at him as he led her casually down the street toward the shop Cait had indicated. He was tall enough that she had to tip her head back to look at his face.

“Blaire is a rare treat. Full of fire and passion. And I have known James for a very long time.” He avoided her gaze. The creation of vampyres was a touchy subject, after all.

“Ye made him, did ye no’? Like Alec?” Blodswell stiffened again beside her. “Why
is it
that ye keep doin’ that?” she finally choked out. The man was maddening. He could go from charming and sweet to rigid as a board within moments.

“Doing what?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“Ye pinch yer lips together like ye’re biting back an oath.”

“I do no such thing.” He straightened his shoulders.

“Aye, ye do. Ye did it when Archer was here. And ye did it again when I mentioned James and Alec.” She stared him down. She’d never been as good at intimidating people as Blaire, the battle-born witch, was.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Blodswell,” she sighed, ready to give up and walk back to Thorpe House, ribbons or no ribbons.

He stopped and spun her toward him. “That’s just it,” he finally said, looking as though a small war was going on within him. One he was losing. If that was possible. “You call me Blodswell or my lord or whatever else crosses your lips. But it’s anything and everything but my name. I have asked you to call me Matthew. But for some reason, you let Alec’s and even
Radbourne’s
given name fall across your lips like the sweetest of kisses.”

Kisses? Bloody hell, now all he could think about was kissing her. Matthew’s incisors descended, right there on Bond Street in broad daylight. Damn it to hell, this was not good. “I need to go back to my coach, Miss Sinclair.” He swallowed hard, willing his eyeteeth to retract. But they failed to take heed. He shook his head in dismay. In all his years, this had never, ever happened to him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she reached up to touch the side of his face. “Ye’re lookin’ extremely pale, Blodswell.”

“Matthew,” he grated out as he took her hand in his, spun her around, and nearly dragged her in the opposite direction to his coach. Thank God, his driver had stayed put.