In the Heat of the Bite (25 page)

“Oh, that’s so romantic,” Miss Ferguson said, a dreamy expression crossing her face. “Do ye love her? Please tell me ye do. She needs ta be loved. She always has.” The witch expelled it all in one quick breath.

“I have a great affection for her,” Matthew said, suddenly defensive of his feelings under her penetrating stare.

“Ye have ta
love
her. It’s the only way.” She sighed deeply. “I wish I could tell ye. But then it might never happen.”

Matthew shook his head quickly and glanced at MacQuarrie. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

Alec shrugged. “I never know what Sorcha’s prattling on about. I don’t think she knows either, most of the time.”

The young witch punched Alec’s shoulder. “I do ken what I’m talkin’ about. But I canna tell ye the secret. It wouldna be right. Ye have ta find out on yer own. When it happens, ye’ll ken it’s right.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be?” Alec crossed to the door and opened it. “Come along, sprite. I’ll see you home. Then I’ll retrieve Elspeth and take her to Mrs. Niven’s. I don’t like for you to be outside at night in the dark. Particularly not alone.”

Miss Ferguson giggled. “I’m standin’ here with two vampyres who could have me for dinner at any moment. And ye think I’m scared of what’s out
there
?” She laughed loudly this time. “That is humorous, Alec.”

“You’re safe from me,” Matthew tossed out. He couldn’t bite her if he wanted to. But MacQuarrie licked his lips and looked down the girl’s dress as though he’d just discovered there was a woman standing in his entryway. A flesh-and-blood woman. “Him, I’m not so sure about.” He pointed toward Alec.

The little sprite dashed out the door calling over her shoulder. “I doona need an escort,” she yelled. “My brother is in the carriage.” She waved all the way down the drive. After the coach started away, she poked her head out the window and yelled, “I feel safer and safer the farther I get from the two of ye,” she teased, laughter coating her words.

“You should.” Alec mumbled so low that Matthew could barely hear him. But he did. The man sighed deeply. Then he glanced down at his lapel, where a perfect red rosebud bloomed before their very eyes. He grinned.

“That’s the first spontaneous smile I’ve seen out of you since you were reborn,” Matthew said, watching his protégé closely in the wake of the littlest witch.

“Sorcha has this way about her…” he began. But his words just trailed off, the thought left unfinished.

“Who is Lord Blodswell. I mean who is he really?” Rhiannon sat forward in her seat, staring at the Duchess of Hythe.

The old woman chuckled. “Why the most eligible peer in all of the kingdom.”

Was that what the duchess had meant? Rhi breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what she’d have done if the powerful woman had uttered the word “vampyre.”

The duchess pulled her chair closer to Rhiannon’s and tapped her chin, her gaze swinging from the top of Rhi’s head to the bottoms of her feet.

“Your Grace,” Rhiannon began.

But the lady suddenly jumped to her feet and crossed the room to pour two glasses of some amber liquid. She quickly downed one, refilled her glass, and held the other out to Rhiannon.

Rhi’s fingers trembled slightly, she was embarrassed to see. At least none of her powers were going off. Yet. She sniffed the glass. “What is it?” she asked hesitantly.

“Liquid courage,” the duchess exclaimed. “I have never been able to stomach the ratafia served at these things. But if I made brandy available to everyone here, I’d have people frolicking on the lawn before the night was over.” For some reason, that idea seemed to please the duchess. She motioned for Rhiannon to drink.

The amber liquid made her nose water as she bit back a gasp. “Thank ye,” Rhiannon choked out.

“Your aunt is not a nice woman,” the duchess began.

The statement was certainly not news to Rhiannon, but it wasn’t wise to admit as much. “What makes ye say that?” she asked with caution.

The duchess chuckled. “You are too kind, dear girl. That woman is determined to see you fail this season.”

Rhiannon already knew that, but she found it terribly interesting that the duchess was aware of it, too. She raised the glass to her lips again. The next sip wasn’t quite as painful as the first, and a warm flush spread across her skin.

“Well, I refuse to allow it,” the duchess said. “I refuse to allow that lady to ruin your chance for success. And success you shall have, dear girl, or I am not the Duchess of Hythe. And the last time I looked in a mirror, I saw myself quite clearly. Yet I see
her
even more clearly.”

Thank heavens, someone finally did. “I appreciate ye takin’ an interest in my success.”

The duchess smiled, which was still a surprising sight. “You remind me of my granddaughter.”

“Do I?” Rhi touched a hand to her chest. The admission from the duchess was the very last thing she’d expected.

The old woman nodded. “Indeed. Madeline will come out next year, my dear. She’s a plucky thing, just like you. And I’d hate to imagine her all alone in Town. I’d want someone to take an interest in her success. To help her navigate the waters that are the
ton
. But most importantly, I’d want someone to squash anyone who tried to hurt her chances.”

“Like Aunt Greer,” Rhi muttered, remembering all the awful things her aunt had said.

“Do not give Greer Cooper another thought, my dear. She will
not
be allowed to stomp on your success. I will not have it. I will formally take you under my wing as of this moment. You should consider me to be your mentor. Your taskmaster. Your confidante, if you so choose.”

She waved her hand around in the air in an all-encompassing motion. “I know that you have Lady Eynsford to rely upon, but I think you need more if you hope to catch a man like Blodswell.” She stared directly at Rhiannon from her perch on the edge of her chair. “You do plan to catch him, do you not?”

Well, he bit my finger and sucked a drop of my blood while his other hand did amazing things beneath my skirts.
No. That would never do. Rhi raised her glass and drained it dry. “I do plan ta catch him, Yer Grace.” She nodded emphatically. A bit too emphatically, as the spirits had already gone to her head. The duchess poured another glass and held it out to Rhiannon. She wrapped both hands around it and brought it to her lap.

“Splendid!” The duchess clapped. “I have waited for years to see the good earl take his tumble.”

“Ye have?” Blaire felt like a spectator at a sideshow.

“I knew his grandfather, you see.” The duchess got a dreamy look in her eye. Matthew’s grandfather? That meant she’d really known Matthew. Oh, dear, how well had she known Matthew? Certainly, they hadn’t… Had they? Rhi gulped another mouthful of the brandy.

“They look like they could be twins,” the duchess continued. “Those dark eyes, that dark hair. That carefree stance.”

She’d been appraising Matthew’s stance? Oh, dear. “He does have a nice stance,” Rhiannon mumbled.

“Indeed, he does,” the duchess breathed. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be, not between his grandfather and me. I could barely talk the man into looking in my direction. Much less into showing me more of his
stance
.” The duchess giggled.

“Exactly how much of his stance did ye see, Yer Grace?” Rhiannon jumped to her feet. But she immediately sought the soft padding of the chair once more when the room moved around her.

“Not nearly enough,” the duchess sighed. “He was too much of a gentleman to show me more of himself, no matter how much I wanted it.” She got a faraway look in her eye. “Oh, but I did want to know more of him. All of him. Every little piece.” She stared back at Rhiannon suddenly. “Although I doubt that any of his
pieces
were little.” She laughed a throaty laugh, full of mirth and humor.

If anyone had told Rhiannon she would be discussing Matthew’s endowments with the Duchess of Hythe, she’d have said they were bound for Bedlam. Yet here she sat, doing just that.

“How is it going with Blodswell, dear? Tell me the truth. I may be able to help.” She leaned forward, all of her attention focused on Rhiannon, who felt a bit like a butterfly under a glass.

Rhiannon’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. But she forced the words out. “That bloody gentleman thing, Yer Grace,” she started. Then she felt heat creep up her face as she realized she’d just cursed at the Duchess of Hythe. “Beg yer pardon,” she muttered, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. If she could just collect her wits. The duchess took her empty glass from her. Where had all the brandy gone?

“That bloody gentleman thing, indeed,” the duchess chirped, glee coating her words. “I say it’s time to take the bull by the horns, dear girl.” Her eyes twinkled. “Or by one horn, at least.” She lowered her voice to the point where Rhiannon had to concentrate hard to hear her. “If you want to catch the man, choose an appropriate part of his body to grab hold to.”

Rhiannon cackled. She couldn’t help it. The sound simply erupted. And evidently it was contagious because the duchess joined her. The duchess was deep in her cups. And Rhiannon was well past foxed herself. And, suddenly, everything was incredibly humorous.

“Need I explain what part that is?” the duchess asked, her eyes glassy from the drink.

“I doona believe so, Yer Grace. I believe I understand.” Did she? Maybe she’d understand more tomorrow when the edges of her world went back to being round instead of square.

“Seduce him.” That was all the duchess said. But then she repeated it. “Seduce the man. He will fall. I guarantee it.”

“I doona really want ta cause his fall,” Rhiannon stuttered out. She wouldn’t do Matthew harm. Not on purpose.

The duchess raised her eyebrows and said slowly, “Cause him to
fall in love
, dear.”

“In love?” Rhiannon parroted.

“In love,” the duchess confirmed with a nod of her head. “With you. Despite your aunt’s meddling ways. And your predisposition to wreak havoc.”

“Ye ken about my havoc-wreaking? I canna help it. It just happens.”

“Let it,” the duchess said. “Let it happen. Then the good earl will feel like he needs to save you. Who cares if he’s saving you from yourself? It will give him a purpose in your life. Aside from getting beneath your skirts, which will be his primary goal. The thwarting of havoc-wreaking can come second.”

The duchess took Rhiannon’s hand in her own and tugged her to her feet. The lady had much more strength and purpose than Rhiannon did at the moment, so she went willingly when the woman tugged her down the corridor and back into the crowded ballroom. The duchess kept Rhiannon at her side as she crossed to stand directly in front of Archer Hadley.

“Radbourne,” the woman said sternly, immediately drawing his attention from the conversation he was involved in. He held up one finger to his compatriots and begged their pardon.

“Are you all right, Miss Sinclair?” the Lycan asked.

“Oh, posh,” the duchess said with a breezy wave of her hand. “She’s fine.”

“Then why on earth is she having a hard time standing on her own two feet?” Radbourne growled. Such a lovely growl it was.

The duchess’ eyes narrowed at him. “You will suit my purposes quite nicely,” she sang. She pressed Rhiannon’s hand onto his arm and stepped back. “Quite nicely,” she said, clapping her hands.

An announcement at the entrance vaguely broke through the drink haze that clouded Rhi’s mind. “Oh, Lord Blodswell has finally arrived. And he has that lovely Mr. MacQuarrie with him.” She leaned closer to Rhiannon and said conspiratorially, “I could look at that man all night without an ounce of remorse.”

“Your Grace,” Archer began, an admonishment hovering on his lips. But the duchess was already abandoning them to go and greet her newest guests. Perhaps she wanted to admire Matthew’s stance a little more.

“Do ye plan ta ask me ta dance?” Rhiannon asked quietly of Archer, but she was certain he could hear her.

“I don’t think you could walk across the room, much less dance,” the viscount clipped out.

“Try me,” Rhiannon whispered.

Archer’s eyebrows rose. Then his eyes narrowed. “Try you?” he asked. “You should know better than to toss out an invitation like that, Miss Sinclair. Particularly when you’re foxed.”

“What makes ye think I’m foxed?” she asked. She was upright of her own volition. So what if she leaned a little too heavily on his arm?

“You forget that we Lycans can smell odd things like brandy, particularly when you have been dipped in it.”

“Dipped?” Rhiannon giggled. “It went in me, no’ on me. It’s all the duchess’ fault. She kept fillin’ the glass.”

“She’s a bad influence on you.” But he looked as though he was biting back a smile. “You wanted to dance, did you? Then dance you shall.”

He swept her across the room and onto the dance floor before she could take a deep breath. A waltz began and he drew her close to him, scandalously close. But wasn’t that the purpose of a waltz? To tempt societal discord? Or tempt an earl. Or a viscount, as the case may be.

“Do ye find me likeable, Archer?” Rhi asked, her tongue still thick and unwieldy. Thank heavens Radbourne was such a good dancer, because he supported them both with his quick movements.

“No, I do not find you likeable at all, Rhiannon,” he muttered.

She forced her lips into a pout.

“However, if you hold your mouth in that shape for one second longer, I will feel compelled to kiss you,” he warned.

Her gaze flew up to his, where she found him smiling, his amber eyes twinkling.

“You do tempt me, Miss Sinclair,” he said softly.

“Tempt ye ta do what?” Her mind was still muddled from the drink. She’d have to remember not to ever drink anything the Duchess of Hythe put in her hand again.

“Tempt me to do anything I want with you. Particularly when you are foxed, your guard is down, and you are in my arms instead of Blodswell’s. You are aware he just arrived?”

“Aye, I heard the announcement. But the duchess gave me ta ye. So, I assume I’m yers for the moment.”