In the Heat of the Bite (3 page)

He snorted. “I don’t have time for this, Miss Sinclair. I truly don’t. Point out your chaperone, and I’ll leave you in his or her care.”

“
Mrs.
Sinclair.” Rhiannon lied through her teeth. But it was a good lie. After all, a
Mrs.
wouldn’t need a chaperone, would she? If this man would just leave her be, she could dry herself with a warm wind and then make her way to Caitrin’s home. She’d had as much of his interference as she intended to take.

In an instant the man dropped her arm. His brow crinkled, and Rhi was almost certain he sniffed the air in her direction. Without a doubt he was the oddest creature she’d ever met. And then it hit her.
A creature!
She looked again into his coal-black eyes, and her heart stopped beating in her chest.

It had been right there all along. How foolish of her to not to have seen it earlier. “Creature” was most assuredly the right word. She hadn’t seen
this
man before, but she’d seen one like him. She’d even been enchanted by his dark gaze and lost her will to the blood-sucker. It was not an experience she ever wanted to repeat. She still had nightmares about the encounter, and she had no intention of spending even one second longer in the company of a vampyre.

Rhiannon grabbed a handful of her skirts and bolted for Hyde Park’s gated entrance, her ruined slipper squishing the whole way. She raced as fast as she could across Park Lane, down Curzon Street, and around the little jog of Charles Street until she finally reached Berkeley Square, out of breath but still alive.

Matthew raked a hand through his damp hair as he watched Miss Sinclair escape into Thorpe House without even a look over her slender shoulder. And he knew she was
Miss
Sinclair. He could smell an innocent from ten feet away, and
Miss
Sinclair was as innocent as they came. And lovely, she was that too, even if she did have a temper that lit up the night sky.

Did she truly think she could outrun him in a foot race? Matthew scoffed as he watched through Eynsford’s big bay window as she entered a parlor at the front of the house. He could have run from Hyde Park to Berkeley Square a dozen times in the amount of time it had taken her to run from him.

What a mystery she was. Not
what
she was; he’d known instantly she was a witch. After all, he’d known other weather-controlling witches throughout his life-after-death,
her
ancestors to be exact. The revered
Còig
. The mystical coven of witches who had bestowed upon him the most powerful gift he’d ever possessed. Matthew glanced down at the ring he still wore on his right hand. Without that coven, he would have been reduced to skulking around in the shadows for eternity. But they’d given him the ability to stand in the sun as though he still possessed a beating heart, as though he was a living, breathing man.

He turned his attention back to the Marquess of Eynsford’s Mayfair home. Miss Sinclair was undoubtedly safe in the company of her sister witch, the new marchioness. He had no reason to remain outside, catching glimpses of her through the front window. But leaving held little appeal. Why had she lied about her marital state? Why had she run from him as though the hounds of hell chased at her heels?

“Lord Blodswell.” A soft Scottish voice caught his attention, and Matthew turned to find Caitrin Eynsford by his side. Apparently, he was more affected by Miss Sinclair than he’d initially believed. He hadn’t even heard Lady Eynsford approach.

“My lady.” Matthew dipped his head to the beautiful blond in greeting. “We meet again.”

“Aye.” She stepped closer to him and laid her hand on his arm. The night stars reflected in her cerulean eyes as she peered up at him in earnest. “How is Mr. MacQuarrie?”

Matthew closed his eyes to block out her beseeching look. Why would the clairvoyant witch ask him such a question? She had to know the answer. Was she hoping he would deny it? Ease her guilty conscience?

“Managing.” Really, what else could he say? Lady Eynsford had broken MacQuarrie’s heart when she’d married her Lycan marquess, putting the wheels of MacQuarrie’s fate in motion, but voicing the words wouldn’t do anyone any good at this point. What’s done was done.

The marchioness swiped a tear from her cheek. “Ye followed Rhiannon.” She didn’t ask the question, just voiced what she had obviously seen with her second sight. What else had she seen?

Rhiannon.
The name echoed in Matthew’s mind. Dear God, her name was as lovely as she was. All feminine and airy like a summer breeze. “Just wanted to be certain she made it to your home safely.”

“Clearly, she did.”

“Yes. I—um—Well, she seemed upset.” He sounded like a damn fool. Why did he even bother talking to Lady Eynsford? She knew everything anyway. The witch could see the future. She knew much more than he did. She probably even knew why the lass was upset.

“Family has a way of doin’ that ta some of us. I’m certain she’ll be fine now that she’s come ta stay with Eynsford and me for the season. There’s no need for ye ta worry. Ye have Mr. MacQuarrie ta look after as it is. I feel certain ye have yer hands full.”

And that quickly they were back to discussing MacQuarrie. Matthew nearly groaned. He knew the marchioness wanted him to do the impossible, to somehow return her former friend to the man she’d once known. He couldn’t bring himself to crush the little witch’s dreams with the truth of the situation. MacQuarrie would never be the same, no matter how Matthew tutored him. Humans were humans, and vampyres were not.

So he said nothing and made no move to leave his spot. He simply stared across the square at Thorpe House. What the devil was he waiting for? To catch another glimpse of Rhiannon Sinclair? No, that couldn’t be it. How many women had caught his eye over the centuries? More than he could count. He just wanted a momentary respite from his life, something to distract him from the road ahead.

“I would invite ye in, but I have a feelin’ ye should be makin’ yer way back ta that monstrosity of a meetin’ place ye call a club.” She snorted. “A feeding trough is more like it.”

If Matthew still had blood flowing through his veins, she would have made him blush. There were some things ladies shouldn’t know. Yet Caitrin Eynsford could see it all, even before it happened. She didn’t have a choice in the matter. He shook away his thoughts. He’d rather not wonder at the scenes that did play before her eyes.

Matthew nodded a farewell to the marchioness. “As always, you are correct, my lady. Until we meet again.” He started toward Charles Street.

“Tomorrow night,” she called to his retreating back.

Matthew stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at the blond witch. “Tomorrow night?”

“Lady Pickering’s ball. I’ll see ye then.”

Matthew couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I believe your vision has failed you, Lady Eynsford. I do
not
attend balls.” Nor did he plan to attend Lady Pickering’s, whoever the devil she was.

But Caitrin Eynsford only smiled and then started across the street to her home. Matthew shook his head as he turned back the way he’d come. Lady Pickering’s ball indeed. Perhaps this generation of witches had lost a bit of their power. His future most certainly did not involve black evening wear, dancing in a crowded ballroom, or making pleasantries with men who had more money than sense.

Rhiannon thanked the Eynsford butler profusely for the tea service he had delivered. What a kind soul he was. The man hadn’t even lifted an eyebrow when she’d entered the home, dripping water and leaving muddy footprints all over his clean floor. He’d even retrieved towels and the tea without a single scowl. How very un-English of him.

After glancing at her ruined slipper one last time, Rhi cringed. The debacle this evening had been all her fault. She had allowed Aunt Greer to upset her, to get her emotions swirling, and that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Ginny. And if she hadn’t started that storm, she wouldn’t have met that vampyre or ruined her slipper. Just the thought of him made her pulse race anew. What terrible creatures they were, and her storm had
drawn
him directly to her. Foolish, foolish, foolish!

As Rhiannon was in the middle of berating herself, Caitrin bustled into the room with a flourish. Her friend squealed loudly and very quickly tumbled onto the settee beside Rhi. “I’m so happy ta see ye,” the blond gushed as she wrapped her arms around Rhi.

“Ye doona have ta smother me.” Rhiannon laughed as she pried Cait’s arms from around her neck and sat back to look at her. “Marriage does agree with ye, Cait,” she admitted. Truly, she’d never seen her friend looking so content. Or so beautiful, nearly glowing with happiness.

“Oh, I couldna smother ye if I tried. Ye can move the wind ta wherever ye need it, ye ninny.” She picked up a lock of Rhiannon’s damp hair. “What in the world happened ta ye? Did ye fall in a pond?”

“A little rain is all,” Rhi murmured.

“Rain? There’s no’ a cloud in the sky,” the blond witch said. Then her blue eyes narrowed. “Unless ye made some, of course. Please tell me ye dinna do that in Mayfair of all places.” She sighed loudly.

“Just a wee storm,” Rhiannon mumbled as she held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

Cait raised her eyebrows. “A wee storm that soaked ye ta the skin? I sincerely doubt that.” She shot a pointed glance at Rhi. “Now tell me why ye were upset.”

“It’s nothin’ ta worry about, Cait. Just let it rest.”

“It’s no’ nothing. But ye
will
tell me eventually.” Cait sat forward on the settee, and then her nose scrunched up a bit as she looked at the amount of mud Rhiannon had dragged in with her and which now caked the Eynsfords’ Aubusson rug. “
Havers!
What did ye do ta yer slipper?”

Rhiannon felt warmth creep up her neck. It was one thing to feel foolish about her actions and another to have someone else aware of her foolishness. She squirmed a bit in her seat. “A vampyre startled me and I stepped in the wrong place is all.”

Cait giggled. “If anyone else heard that statement, they’d think ye were mad.”

“Aye, they probably would,” Rhi agreed. She hadn’t thought about how absurd that sounded before she said it, but then her life had seemed so absurd lately.

“Well, in any event,” Cait squeezed Rhiannon’s hand, “there’s no reason ta be frightened of Blodswell. He’s no’ exactly harmless, but—”

Rhiannon’s mouth dropped open. Cait
knew
the vampyre in question? Was London crawling with the creatures? “Do ye ken many vampyres?” She couldn’t believe the nonchalant way Cait shrugged as though it was commonplace to befriend such monsters. But then Cait hadn’t been with her in Edinburgh when that awful creature had descended upon their coven, hell-bent on destruction.

“A few. But Blodswell is benevolent. No need ta ruin any good slippers on
his
account.”

Rhiannon folded her arms across her chest. “Benevolent or no’, I’d just as soon no’ see him again, or anythin’ like him.” Besides, she had Ginny’s future to worry about. There was no room for dealing with handsome vampyres, no matter how harmless Caitrin thought them to be.

A little twinkle lit Cait’s eyes. “Hmm. How
did
the earl affect ye, I wonder?” Cait asked as though she already knew the answer to that question, which only served to make Rhi’s face heat anew.

“Blast it, Cait. Ye’re no’ supposed ta go peerin’ inta my future!” She’d told her and told her not to pry into her life. But did the witch listen? Not a bit, apparently.

“Oh, hush.” Her friend shushed her. “I dinna go lookin’ for ye on a lark.” Her voice lowered. “I only took a small peek when yer coach, maid, and trunks arrived at my doorstep and ye werena with them. I had ta be certain ye were all right.”

“Are ye done pryin’ now?” Rhiannon knew she sounded waspish. Cait couldn’t help it if her gift allowed her into the private lives of others. At times, it was as much a hindrance as it was a help.

“Well, almost,” the witch hedged. At Rhiannon’s grimace, she continued. “I do ken it wasna Lord Blodswell who provoked the storm. Yer aunt always was a spiteful woman.” Cait shivered.