In the Heat of the Bite (36 page)

Rhiannon was in a daze as she dressed and went through her morning ablutions. The evening’s events played out again in her mind. Matthew was human. Ginny had run off with Lord Steven Patterdale. And her aunt had to be nice to her. It was hard to believe all of it had happened in such a short period of time.

She made her way to the breakfast room, not surprised in the least to find the Hadley men quarreling with each other like children. Rhi shook her head at the sight. Once again, the three of them had devoured every morsel on the sideboard.

“Cook is making more,” Wes told her cheerily.

“I suppose I’ll just start with coffee then.” She motioned to a footman to fill a mug for her as she slid in a seat beside Archer. “I do want ta thank ye for goin’ with me yesterday. Ye were right. Askin’ a direct question is the best way ta go about things.”

The viscount winked at her. “I thought it might be. I might wish things had turned out differently, Rhiannon, but I never had any doubt that Blodswell cared for you.”

From the threshold, Price tapped on the door. “Miss Sinclair, pardon me for interrupting your breakfast, but the Duchess of Hythe is here and demanded I find you.”

There was nothing to eat anyway. Rhi rose from her seat. “Of course, Price. Where did ye leave Her Grace?”

“The white parlor, ma’am.”

She nodded to the old man. “Thank ye.” Then she glanced back over her shoulder at the Hadley men. “
Behave
while she’s here.” She punctuated her statement with a glare of warning.

“Did you hear that?” Gray asked with mock incredulity.

Rhiannon graced him with a smile. “If ye behave, ye might no’ have ta crash the next event the duchess holds.” Then she quickly escaped to the white parlor before any of the Lycans could retort.

The Duchess of Hythe paced the floor in a fashion that did not seem very ducal. When her icy eyes landed on Rhiannon, she sighed. “Well, I hope you had more luck yesterday than I did.”

Rhiannon nodded. “Aye, Yer Grace. Matthew—er… Lord Blodswell—confided the nature of this kiss to me.”

The old woman actually smiled. “And you’re satisfied with his tale?”

“Aye.” More than satisfied.

“Well, that is good news. So the wedding is on?”

“As soon as the banns have been read.”

“Well, that ought to give us enough time to get everything in order.”

“In order?”

“Yes,” the duchess replied as though Rhiannon had three heads. “You’ll be married at St. George’s, of course. I imagine Lady Eynsford will host your wedding breakfast. But we need to get a stunning gown that will have all of the
ton
talking. And we want to do this before news of your sister’s Scottish wedding reaches everyone’s ears.”

Rhiannon gulped. “Ye ken about that already?”

The duchess snorted in a very unladylike way, but she was a duchess and above reproach. “I was there when Lord Steven arrived. I was returning your foolish sister to your aunt when she leapt in the Patterdale carriage. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes.”

Oh, heavens, Ginny! Rhi closed her eyes and hoped her sister had made a wise decision. “Aunt Greer had wanted to marry her off to Mr. Finchley.”

The duchess chuckled. “I know. Who do you think told your sister to bolt with that Patterdale boy?”

Rhiannon choked on a laugh. “Ye dinna?”

“Of course I did,” the duchess replied imperially. “The young man was deeply besotted. And your sister very much the same way. He’s not the sort I would want my Madeline to marry, but he’ll be fine for Ginessa.”

Rhi gaped at the woman. “What is wrong with Lord Steven that ye wouldna want yer granddaughter ta marry him?”

“Well, nothing’s wrong with the boy, except he had the misfortune of being a second son,” she answered. “Had he been born first, I would have had no objections to him at all.”

That was it? “I see.” Rhiannon giggled. Ginny had no need for titles. And if the duchess thought Lord Steven had a fine character, then all turned out well. Or mostly.

“Laugh if you want to, Rhiannon, but things being what they are, we should circulate the news of your betrothal and the ball I’m hosting for you afterwards all about Town. Everyone will be so eager for an invitation that they won’t pay one whit of attention to your sister’s surprising elopement.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Cait said from the doorway. “I will, of course, help in any way I can.”

“Perfect, Lady Eynsford.” The duchess nodded at Cait.

“I propose we start with a breathtakin’ gown,” Cait gushed, walking farther into the room.

“Guest list first, my lady,” the duchess said grandly. “We are in a hurry to get invitations to the right people by the right time.”

Cait acquiesced with a bob of her head. “Ye are correct.”

“Of course I am.” The duchess dropped onto the settee. “Now you should call for tea.”

As Cait rang for Price, Rhiannon stepped closer to Her Grace. “Can I make a request?”

“What request?”

“For the guest list, will ye include Lord Radbourne and his brothers? I’ve become quite fond of them.”

The old woman laughed. “Very well, Rhiannon. Besides, they’d sneak in anyway. That’s why I never invite them to anything. I want to see what scheme they’ll come up with next.”

Three weeks sailed by. Rhiannon never would have believed time could move so quickly. But between Caitrin and the Duchess of Hythe, her wedding had turned into quite the social event. Rhiannon barely had time to see Matthew as she was shuffled to one fitting or another. But today that would all change. Today she would become the Countess of Blodswell, and she and Matthew would belong to each other until the end of their days. She wondered if he was bothered that his days
would
end now that he was a man, that she’d cost him his immortality.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, contemplating the pomona-green gown Cait had insisted on as she swore it matched the flecks in Rhiannon’s eyes. Rhi stepped closer to the mirror and shook her head. She didn’t see one fleck of green, not one. Not that it mattered; arguing with Cait was a lost cause. Especially as Her Grace had been in complete agreement.

“I doona ken,” Cait sighed from behind her. “Somethin’ is just no’ right.”

Rhiannon spun to face her friend. “No’ right? What do ye mean by that?” Had something happened? And on her wedding day of all days.

“My, ye are a bundle of nerves.” A wicked smile and a mischievous glint in Cait’s eyes did not bode well. “I was just thinkin’ yer flowers doona look right, a little droopy in the heat.”

Cait walked to the bedchamber door and threw it open.

Standing in the corridor, Sorcha grinned. Then she bolted into the room and threw her arms around Rhiannon’s neck. “Oh, ye are so beautiful! That dress, it matches yer eyes.”

Rhiannon couldn’t quite believe it. How had Sorcha made it all the way from Edinburgh? Tears formed in Rhi’s eyes, which apparently
did
have some green in them somewhere even if she couldn’t see it.

“Watch yer emotions,” Cait warned. “Ye doona want it overcast. What will Lord Blodswell think?”

Sorcha pulled out of their embrace and handed Rhi a handkerchief. “Cait’s right. Ye canna have splotchy cheeks before ye say ‘I do.’ Ye have ta smile grandly and be the happiest bride there ever was.”

“How?” Rhiannon shook her head. “How are ye here?”

“I always have a way of gettin’ what I want.” Sorcha dropped across Rhiannon’s bed. “As soon as I met Lord Blodswell and kent ye were goin’ ta marry him, I started pesterin’ Papa. He finally agreed ta come with me.” Then she frowned. “El’s sorry she canna be here, but with the bairn…”

“I’m just so glad
ye’re
here, Sorch. I’ve missed ye so much.” Rhi swiped at a tear. “Did my father come with ye?” It was too much to hope for, but she asked it anyway.

Sadness flashed in Sorcha’s soft brown eyes as she shook her head. “But he did send his love.” Then with more energy than an eight-year-old, Sorcha bounded off the bed. “What can I do? Did ye say somethin’ was wrong with the flowers? I can fix whatever it is.”

Cait shook her head. “The flowers are fine, ye goose. It was just somethin’ ta say before I surprised her.”

“Oh, so I doona get ta do anythin’ ta help?”

“Ye can help by sittin’ next ta the Duchess of Hythe durin’ the ceremony. The woman terrifies Dash and the others.”

“Really?” Sorcha giggled. “I canna wait ta meet her then.”

“Well, ye’ll do so soon because we need ta get Rhi ta the church before Blodswell thinks she left him standin’ at the altar.”

“His landau is out front,” Sorcha said cheerily. “I’ll ride with both of ye and send Papa on ta the church.”

“Dash and his brothers are already there,” Cait explained, smoothing out Rhiannon’s skirt with her hands.

“Eynsford has brothers?” Sorcha rushed to ask. “Are they wolves, too? Can I meet them?”

“Ye’ll never hear the end of it now that ye’ve told her,” Rhiannon laughed.

Cait shrugged. “She would have found out anyway.” She smiled that faraway smile that she so often wore when she thought no one was looking. “It’s a secret, so doona go blabbin’ it around,” she warned Sorcha.

The littlest witch’s eyes narrowed at Cait. “Ye ken somethin’ about my future?” Sorcha cried. “Do I get a Lycan of my very own?” She clapped her hands together with glee.

“Doona start this again, Sorch,” Cait warned. Then she pushed a curl behind Rhiannon’s ear. “Oh, ye are so beautiful.”

“What about Blaire?” Rhiannon asked hopefully, “Is she here, too? Matthew wants very much to speak with Lord Kettering.”

One of Cait’s dainty blond brows rose. “I can tell ye this. Ye ken how overprotective Benjamin is with El?”

Rhi nodded. It was still a sore subject with Caitrin, Lord Benjamin’s protective, sometimes overbearing nature with their healing witch.

“Kettering is just as bad with Blaire.”

“How can ye say that? Ye havena even met him,” Sorcha declared. “He is a perfectly nice man and a very handsome one, too.”

Cait tossed her head back. “
That
he may be. But I have seen the future, Sorcha Ferguson, and Blaire willna leave Derbyshire for another seven months at least.”

“Seven months?” Sorcha asked. “They’ve been married
three
months. Are ye sayin’ she’s expectin’?” She nearly bounced on her toes with excitement.

“Indeed.”

“Well, that was quick,” Sorcha gushed. “Blaire must be so ecstatic.”

Cait shrugged. “She’s no’ had the best time of it so far. Queasy stomach and all that, but she’ll be fine in a month or so.
Then
she’ll be ecstatic.”

“So we can go visit her then.” Sorcha beamed.

“I’ll look in on her in a few days,” Rhiannon put in. “Matthew’s estate borders Kettering’s. I’ll make sure she’s all right.”

“From what I’ve seen, Kettering is a mother hen.” Cait rolled her eyes. “As though
Blaire
was breakable. Completely ridiculous. When Dash and I have our first, I will no’ allow him ta circle me like a herding dog with a flock of sheep.”

Rhiannon giggled. Lord Eynsford already watched Cait’s every move. She just didn’t realize it because she loved him so much and wanted him there. And she hoped Matthew would hover over her if they had children. She smiled at the thought.

“Well,” Sorcha interrupted her reverie, “shouldna we be leavin’?”

“Absolutely,” Cait said, holding the door open wide. “It is time.”

Rhiannon turned back to the mirror for one last glance and pinched a little color to her cheeks. “Alright, I’m ready.”

It had been so many years since Matthew had stepped foot in a church that he’d quite forgotten what they looked like inside. Of course, so much had changed since then, the Reformation being the obvious standout. He stared up at the large arched ceiling above him, which was so different from the Catholic churches of his youth.

A hand clapped him on the back. Matthew looked over his shoulder into the smiling face of the Marquess of Eynsford. “Any sign of them?”

The Lycan grinned. “They’ll be here. It’s still early, Blodswell. How are you holding up?”

Matthew shook his head. “Magnificently. I never imagined I’d be standing here, Eynsford. I never imagined my life would take this turn. I’d never dared dream for such a thing.”

The marquess squeezed his shoulder in a sign of solidarity. “Call me Dash. You’ll be part of this mad family now, you know. This coven is like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

But Matthew had seen many generations of this coven. From his very first meeting with
Còig
witches, he’d respected the tight-knit bond that connected the Scottish lasses. “They are amazing together.”

“Lord Eynsford!” the Duchess of Hythe barked from her spot in the front-row pew. “Take your place. The bride is here.”

Matthew turned on his spot to see Rhiannon in the prettiest green dress with not one, but two coven sisters smoothing her skirts. She met his gaze and smiled beatifically. He caught his breath at the sight. He could hardly wait to hold her again, to never have to let her go.

The rector cleared his throat. “Are we ready, my lord?”