In the Heat of the Bite (24 page)

“
Havers!
” She rushed forward. “Benjamin, ye and Alec pick him up.”

Her husband raced to do her bidding, lifting the earl by his armpits while Alec picked up his feet. “Where to, MacQuarrie?” Benjamin asked.

“First chamber on the right at the top of the stairs.”

The two men took off toward the guest chamber Ben had used himself more times than once. Elspeth followed the pair and quietly watched as they placed Matthew on the large bed in the middle of the room.

“Ben,” the witch began softly, “will ye retrieve my special valise from the carriage?”

“Of course, lass,” her husband returned, as his hazel gaze rested on Alec, almost like a wayward pup who hopes his owner will forgive his misdeeds. As Alec turned his attention to Matthew’s lifeless form, lying in the middle of the bed, Benjamin made his exit.

Elspeth gently touched Alec’s arm, which caused him to glance down at her. “I willna let harm come ta him,” she vowed.

“Why do you care so much, my lady?”

Her green eyes sparkled with affection. “Because I adore ye, and I can tell he means a great deal ta ye,
and
I have a feelin’ he’s meant for Rhi.”

“I thought Cait was the Seer.”

She grinned up at him. “Ye ken much more about our coven than I would have ever thought, Alec.” Then she sighed, looking more serious than usual. “Doona be angry at Ben. They’re forbidden from discussin’ the nature of who they are. He couldna tell ye.”

Alec didn’t want to think about that, not now anyway. “Just help Blodswell. Please.”

Elspeth squeezed his arm. “That is what I do best.” Matthew’s eyes shot open. He’d never felt quite so alive. He glanced around a dark blue room illuminated by a plethora of beeswax candles. A beautiful red-haired woman stepped forward, and the glow from the candles made her appear to be an angel.

“Welcome back ta the land of the livin’, Lord Blodswell,” the lass crooned.

“Wh-who are you?” he croaked, his mouth parched. But he knew the answer in his soul. She was one of Rhiannon’s sister witches. “You’re the healer.”

She grinned at him. “And ye hold the loyalty of two of the men I hold most dear.”

“Do I?”

“Lord Kettering and Alec MacQuarrie.”

He smiled back at her, without even meaning to. “When you save a man’s life, he tends to be loyal to you. Like a stray pup you feed. He tends to feel beholden to protect and keep you, even when you’ve no need of it.”

“Oh, ye have a need of it.” She sat on the edge of the bed and touched a hand to his head. “I’m afraid my fix is temporary, my lord. My powers can provide ye a bit of energy for a while, but it is no’ a substitution for real sustenance.”

Real sustenance. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

She smoothed a hand along his jaw, a healer’s touch if he’d ever felt it. “I’ve kent Rhiannon my whole life. I’m certain she wouldna want ta see ye like this.”

“I’d like to make sure she doesn’t.”

The fiery-haired lass rolled her eyes. “That wasna what I meant. Ye canna hide yer condition from her. I’m certain if she kent the extent of yer circumstances, she would offer a bit of her blood ta save ye.”

“We should be married first.”

An expression of genuine admiration settled on her face. “I doona think Kettering and MacQuarrie are loyal ta ye simply because ye saved their lives, but because of who ye are, my lord.”

“I need to speak with Mr. Sinclair.”

She nodded. “Indeed ye do. I had my husband drag him from behind his desk and deliver him here. Mr. Sinclair is currently pacin’ the length of Alec’s library, waitin’ for ye ta wake.”

“I seem to owe you for much, my dear.” Matthew realized he didn’t even know the name of his guardian angel. “Your name, lass?”

“I’m Lady Elspeth Westfield.”

“Well, Lady Elspeth, I will be forever in your debt.”

She rose from her spot and gestured for him to rise. “All I ask, Lord Blodswell, is that ye return safely ta London and love Rhiannon with all yer heart.”

Matthew nodded. There was no reason to tell Lady Elspeth he didn’t possess a heart, but he would
care
for Rhiannon until the end of her days.

“Then get on with it,” she ordered lightly. “Ye have Mr. Sinclair’s attention, which is more than most can ever boast. So, go take advantage of it.”

Matthew rose from the bed and smoothed his jacket into place. “Will you direct me to the library?”

“It will be my honor.”

He followed the healing witch from the guest chambers, down a flight of stairs, and then to the library on the lower level.

She smiled one last time before pushing him lightly through the open door. “Good luck.”

True to Lady Elspeth’s description, Matthew found a slender, gray-haired man with wire-rimmed spectacles pacing the floor of the library. “Mr. Sinclair?” he said softly.

The old gentleman stopped mid-pace and faced the doorway. “Ye’re Blodswell, are ye?”

Matthew nodded. “Thank you so much for seeing me.”

“Westfield dinna give me much choice in the matter,” Rhiannon’s father complained as he pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Now, who are ye and what do ye want with me?”

At least the witch’s husband hadn’t divulged the nature of his visit. A man should do things the proper way. Matthew stepped forward and offered Rhiannon’s father a smile. “I am Matthew Halkett, the Earl of Blodswell, and I have come from London to ask for your daughter’s hand.”

The man’s gray brow rose slightly. “Greer said she’d find a husband for my Ginny, but I never expected a fellow ta come all the way from London. A letter would have sufficed, young man.”

Matthew wasn’t sure which was more amusing—that the man thought him a young man or that he thought Matthew wanted to marry Rhiannon’s sister. “You misunderstand, Mr. Sinclair. I’ve come on behalf of your daughter Rhiannon.”

The man’s brow rose even higher, which would have been comical under different circumstances. “Ye want ta marry Rhi?”

“Very much so.”

Dougal Sinclair shrugged. “Fine by me. Do ye need anythin’ else, or might Westfield allow me ta return home?”

All Matthew’s amusement vanished. Shouldn’t the man want to know something of him? If he cared for Rhiannon? A bit about his character? “Is that all?”

The man’s eyes darkened. “Is this about her dowry?”

Matthew nearly swallowed his own tongue. “Her dowry?”

“If ye marry her, it’s yers. Is that what ye want ta talk about?”

He didn’t care if she had a dowry or not. Matthew had accumulated more wealth over the years than most men could even dream of. He shook his head. “I just assumed you’d want to know something of me. Ask me questions. Ensure your daughter’s future.”

Dougal Sinclair laughed. “Rhi is a smart lass. She can take care of herself. As for yer character, I’m certain if ye get out of line, my daughter will have the ability to shock ye back ta where ye should be.”

So that was it? Matthew supposed he should be relieved it was so easy to convince the man of his suit, but he wished Dougal Sinclair seemed more concerned about his daughter’s welfare. “Well, thank you. Will you see that the banns are read?”

“Oh, aye, aye. I’ll see Mr. Crawford.”

“Indeed,” boomed a voice from the threshold. A large, forest-scented man with light brown hair stood just inside the library. A Lycan, there was no doubt in Matthew’s mind. “How about if we stop off at the vicar’s before my carriage returns you home, Sinclair?”

Rhiannon’s father scowled at the man. “Ye doona trust me ta go on my own, Lord Benjamin?”

The Lycan shook his head. “Oh, I have no doubt, you’ll mean to, Sinclair, but life has a way of getting in the way. Best to speak with Crawford while the events are fresh in your mind.” Then the man looked at Matthew. “Benjamin Westfield,” he introduced himself.

Ah, Lady Elspeth’s husband. Matthew nodded thanks to the man. “I had the pleasure of meeting your wife.”

“And the pleasure of turning my closest friend,” Westfield muttered so softly only Matthew could hear.

“You are mistaken. It was not a pleasure. Simply a necessity.”

Westfield’s eyes narrowed briefly before he said quietly, “Take care of Rhiannon
and
Alec, or you’ll have me to deal with.”

Again Matthew nodded. “You have no need to worry,” he returned,
sotto voce
.

“I’ll see to things on this end.” Westfield said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Then he gestured toward the corridor. “Come along, Sinclair. We’ve a busy night ahead of us.” The door closed softly behind them.

“All this time, and I never knew,” Alec said from behind him as he stared absently at the door the Westfields and Dougal Sinclair had just walked through.

“Some things are better left unsaid,” Matthew replied as he turned around to look at Alec, who stood with his shoulder braced against the wall. “When one is not fully human, one must take care to protect one’s self. Not to mention the family and friends of said individual.” Matthew sighed deeply. “Would you have told him what you are of your own volition?”

“Tell him I’m not a man. Absolutely not.”

“Your manhood is not in question, Alec,” Matthew bit out.

“My humanity is,” Alec snapped in return.

All of a sudden, the front door opened without even a knock. A girl slipped through the crack and shut the door behind her like a gust of wind. In her haste, she barely stopped to look around her before she spun and barreled directly into Alec MacQuarrie’s chest.

“What the devil?” Alec bit out as he reached out to steady her.

But the pretty little sprite paid not the least little bit of attention to his friend’s bark. Instead, she giggled and pushed herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she laid her head on his chest. “I heard ye were home,” she said, inhaling deeply with her nose pressed against him.

For some reason, Matthew suddenly felt like an interloper.

“Are you daft, Sorch?” MacQuarrie said as he took her by the shoulders and pried her arms from around him. “You can’t go bursting into someone’s home. Or accosting men without warning.”

So this was Sorcha, the little witch who could control nature. She was absolutely enchanting. And obviously was Alec’s worst nightmare come to life.

“I dinna
accost
ye, Alec MacQuarrie.” Her breaths were finally starting to slow. The witch must have run all the way up the drive. “I
hugged
ye. Even ye should recognize a
hug
when ye get one.”

“What do you mean, even me?” Alec said, his tone clipped and biting.

She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “Where is Elspeth? She’s why I’m here. Mrs. Niven is having her sixth bairn, and it’s no’ goin’ well.” The wood sprite dashed toward the nearest parlor and looked inside, then sighed deeply. “She’s no’ here, is she? I came all this way for nothin’.”

“She and Benjamin just left,” Alec informed her. He was still frowning. Interesting. Very, very interesting. The littlest witch exuded happiness, which made Matthew want to smile along with her. But not MacQuarrie. He looked like he wanted to bolt from the room.

“I made a tonic ta help Mrs. Niven, but it’s no’ doin’ much.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Matthew asked. The youngest of Rhiannon’s coven sisters nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke. MacQuarrie stepped closer to her.

“
Havers!
I dinna ken ye had a guest.” She smiled brightly and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder with an impatient gesture. Then she elbowed Alec in the ribs. “Did ye leave yer manners in London?” she hissed at him. “Introduce me.”

Alec sighed deeply, but he made a sweeping gesture and said, “Matthew Halkett, the Earl of Blodswell, this is Miss Sorcha Ferguson.”

“Oh, ye’re the earl who…” She let her voice trail off. Then she cocked her head to the side, smiled softly, and said, “Kettering.”

“Yes, Kettering,” was all he supplied. He had turned Kettering into a vampyre. The witch could obviously fill in the rest.

She pointed to the man who sulked beside her. “And Alec?”

A single nod was the only response he gave.

But the wood sprite giggled, rushed toward Matthew, bounced up on her toes, and quickly kissed his cheek. “Thank ye for savin’ his life.”

That was the first time he’d been thanked for turning MacQuarrie.

“I doubt that it was the right decision some days,” Matthew teased as MacQuarrie tapped his Hessians on the tile floor. “He can be a bit surly.”

But the little witch just grinned and stepped closer to Alec. She leaned into his side and rooted against him until his arm finally landed around her. She placed a hand on his chest. “He’s no’ surly. Just misunderstood.” She giggled. “Though I hear he does bite now. So, I suppose we should all be careful.” Yet she leaned farther into him anyway.

“Westfield is the mutt who bites, and here I am getting the grief,” MacQuarrie said testily, as he tried to shake Miss Ferguson from his side.

She narrowed her eyes at him and let him move away. But she said, “So, ye ken what he is, now?”

“How long have
you
known?” Alec asked.

“Me? I have always kent.” She shrugged.

“And you couldn’t be bothered to tell anyone?”

“Would it have changed yer friendship with him if ye had kent all along what he was?”

He didn’t answer her, instead just picking at a loose thread on his jacket.

“Did it hurt yer feelings when ye found out ye were the last one ta ken?” A grin played around the corners of her mouth.

“Of course, my
feelings
are not hurt,” he choked. “Men do not get
hurt feelings
.”

“I beg to differ,” Miss Ferguson taunted.

“I beg you to stop quibbling with me,” Alec returned.

Matthew smothered a laugh in his closed fist.

“Did El say where they were goin’?” Miss Ferguson asked, as though she suddenly remembered her mission.

“To the vicar and then to the Sinclairs’,” Matthew supplied.

“Why on earth would they go to the vicar?” the young lady asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

“The earl has asked Rhiannon to marry him. That’s why we’re here. He’s so noble he felt he needed to get her father’s permission. He did. And now Ben is helping Sinclair remember to have the banns read.”