Bite Me, Your Grace

Eighteen


When Liza woke Angelica and brought her morning chocolate, Ian was gone. At the sight of the sunlight streaming through the windows on the empty side of the bed, she felt a pang of regret that her husband would never be able to enjoy a glorious spring day with her.

“What time is it, Liza?” She rubbed her eyes.

“Past noon, miss, er, I mean, Your Grace,” her maid said with a twinkling smile. “I thought you were going to sleep all day. His Grace must have kept you up nearly all night.”

Angelica could tell from her maid’s pink cheeks and glittering eyes that she was bursting with curiosity. “Oh, Liza,” she breathed, “it was wonderful!”

The maid raised a brow. “I presume then that he was gentle?”

“Oh yes, gentle and magical and…” She stopped as she heard banging and footsteps down below. “What in the blazes is going on below stairs?”

“The servants are cleaning up after the party, and His Grace has hired a chef and staff. They are all at sixes and sevens.” Liza leaned forward and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Would you believe the duke has never had anyone employed in the kitchens before? I’ve heard bachelors prefer to dine out most nights, yet one would think a man would occasionally enjoy a meal at home.”

Angelica’s heart warmed to hear that Ian had hired people to cook for her. She was going to ask if the chef was English or French, but Liza cut in. “Not only that, but none of his servants lived in the house before today.”

Angelica knew this, as she’d spied on Burnrath House for years. She’d assumed they were afraid of the ghosts, but now she feigned interest. “Indeed?”

Liza nodded solemnly. “Oh, yes. He hired people to come in during the day to clean and had his coachman come along in the evening, but no one was to be allowed in the house after sundown. Though I cannot countenance the silly vampire rumors, His Grace must be very eccentric.”

“Yes, he is,” Angelica agreed, a smile playing across her kiss-swollen lips.

“Now the servants’ quarters are being cleaned out so you may have a full staff under your command, and oh!” Liza grinned. “His Grace left written instructions for you to decorate and put the rooms to use any way you please! And his coachman is to pick you up at three o’clock for you to select your wedding present.”

He remembers that I want a cat. Angelica’s heart bloomed with love. Her breath caught in amazement as she realized that somewhere in their encounters over the past few months she had fallen in love with him. Unlike all her previous suitors, Ian looked at her as a human being with thoughts and feelings of her own. He did not talk to her in that condescending manner in which most men did. Instead, he answered any question she had with a patient respect that urged Angelica to treat him likewise. And… his fathomless charm, breath-stealing good looks, and melting kisses didn’t go amiss, either.

I am in love with a vampire, she mused. How delightful for a gothic authoress!

She bolted out of bed in excitement, running to the adjoining room to throw open her wardrobe. “What shall I wear today, Liza? Something befitting a duchess…”

Suddenly intimidated by her raised position in society, Angelica lifted her chin, silently vowing to make Ian proud of her. She longed to be the best duchess he’d ever seen.

Liza beamed. “Madame DuPuis and her seamstresses will be here at six o’clock to measure you for your new wardrobe.”

Fighting back an irritated groan at yet another forthcoming interruption to her time with Ian, Angelica replied, “I see now that married life will be busier than I imagined.”

In a few minutes, she was attired in a jaunty, blue-striped carriage dress, holding a blue bonnet with one hand and a pair of white wrist-length kid gloves in the other. The place between her legs ached as she moved, but the soreness was pleasing, for it brought back memories of Ian’s passionate lovemaking.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Liza said as they headed downstairs. “His Grace wants to you to hold a ball in honor of your marriage in a fortnight.”

“Bloody hell,” Angelica grumbled in dismay. “I do not know the first thing about how to organize a party. I completely dozed off whenever Mother prattled on about seating arrangements and meal courses.” Now she wished she’d listened to Margaret more often.

Liza gave her a sympathetic smile. “Then you’ll have to ask her for help.”

“I suppose I will.” Her mother had dreamed of throwing a grand-scale ball ever since Angelica could remember. “She will be very pleased, I’d wager.”

The change in Angelica’s status sank in further as every servant she came across greeted her with bows and curtsies, addressing her reverently as “Your Grace.”

These servants were hers, not her mother’s. The realization was liberating, albeit somewhat daunting.

The new Duchess of Burnrath spent a delightful hour learning their names and positions, realizing that they were efficient enough to not need her supervision in cleaning the house. On impulse, she decided to order new black and silver livery for the footmen. She placed the order with the butler, Burke, before she set off to explore the house.

She was politely shooed from most of the rooms, but when Angelica entered the library, she refused to budge. The massive chamber of literary treasures was more beautiful than she remembered. The morning light gleamed on every polished mahogany surface, and the smell of paper, parchment, and polish delighted her senses.

Angelica scanned the titles and was delighted to find the works of Catherine Macaulay and Mary Wollstonecraft right alongside the works of Voltaire and Horace. Jane Austen shared a shelf with Shakespeare and Mary Shelley, and John Keats resided with Percy Shelley and Lord Byron. There were also many titles in French, German, and countless other languages. It would take an eternity and a vast education to read them all… and when Ian Changed her, she would.

She looked around, noticing that the servants had left her alone. With one last guilty peek over her shoulder, she leaped onto the wheeled ladder with a whoop of joy. The wheels were well lubricated, and a push of her boot sent her gliding across the room. One hand grasped the ladder, while the other was clasped over her lips to muffle her giddy laughter.

Something on the table caught her eye. Angelica jumped down from the ladder and approached the slab of dark wood. Next to a bouquet of roses newly placed in a vase of Venetian glass lay a book.

A joyous gasp escaped her throat as she saw that it was Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication on the Rights of Woman. She picked it up and hugged it tightly to her chest. There was no note beside the book, but Angelica knew Ian must have placed it there for her to find. She smiled as she remembered quoting the book to him the night they first met. Her amusement turned to wonder as she realized the gesture must mean he was reassuring her that she would be free with him. After all, the night she officially accepted his proposal, he had said, “A duchess may do what she pleases.”

Angelica recalled that he also had said she could decorate and put the rooms to any use she liked. I will have a writing room! She practically skipped out of the library, opening doors to find the perfect place to dream up and create her stories.

The room must be cozy but not too small. When she found the smallest guest chamber at the end of the hall she bit back an exclamation of joy and twirled around the dusty room.

Summoning the burliest footmen she could find and two maids, she ordered that everything be cleared out and the room given a good scrub-down. She did her best to imitate her mother’s gentle commanding tone when speaking to servants. When a rat scuttled by, making the maids shriek and cling to the footmen, Angelica laughed. “Do not worry. I will be getting a cat to deal with our vermin problem.”

Then the coachman arrived and helped her and Liza into the black and silver coach emblazoned with the Burnrath ducal crest.

“How does one acquire a cat?” Angelica immediately asked.

Felton and Liza exchanged perplexed glances.

“I don’t rightly know, Your Grace,” Felton said. “Most of the ladies of the nobility purchase their dogs through breeders, but I’ll not be knowing if such a thing is done with cats.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Any farm is sure to be chock-full of barn cats, but we do not have the time for a jaunt through the countryside before your appointment with the dressmaker, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Angelica sighed. It appeared that she would not get her first pet today. Then she brightened at the thought of her writing room. “Very well, I would like to purchase a writing desk, and while we’re out, I’ll inquire of any acquaintances we encounter as to the subject of cat breeders. If we don’t learn of any, we shall have to visit a farm tomorrow.”

“A capital plan, Your Grace.” Felton tipped his hat, and with a flick of the reins, they were on the way.

It took visits to three different furniture shops on Bond Street to find the desk of her dreams. But when she did, it took her breath away. The desk was large and made of dark gleaming cherry wood, with gilt paneling and inlaid brass designs on the two cupboards that opened to reveal extra drawers beyond the three above. The drawers were a godsend to Angelica, as she was accustomed to hiding her stories in a meager writing desk that was little more than a lamp table.

“I want this delivered to Number 6 Rosemead Street as soon as possible,” she told the shopkeeper, unable to conceal her joy.

He smiled and bowed. “I commend your selection, milady. I’m sure your husband will be pleased.”

“This desk is not for him; it is for me.” She smiled at the man’s surprise and lifted her chin. “I am a writer. Now, what do you have for inkwells?”

On her way to buy paper, she encountered Lady Wheaton and her sister, Claire, outside a milliner’s shop.

“Your Grace!” Claire exclaimed with false cheer. “What a pleasure it is to see you. Is the duke with you?” Her expression burned with such an intense combination of jealousy and curiosity that Angelica was momentarily taken aback.

Angelica inclined her head and forced a polite smile. “No. His condition prevents him from being exposed to the sunlight. How are you ladies today?”

“We are well, thank you,” Victoria said stiffly. “I see that you’ve survived your wedding night. I assume that means that His Grace is not a vampire?”

Angelica resisted the urge to rub the place on her neck where Ian had bitten her the night before and instead used her husband’s words the first night they met. “He is a man… a wonderful man,” she added.

“Congratulations, you must be very happy.” Victoria grumbled.

As she surveyed the pair, she remembered Claire’s ambitious quest for a titled suitor and Victoria’s fervent campaign in aiding her sister. Victoria went so far as trying to ruin Angelica’s reputation at the Wentworth ball by bringing her into the card room, where she first met Ian. Her heart fluttered at the thought of her vampire husband. Victoria has my gratitude, but she would be further vexed if I told her so.

“I am so very glad I encountered you two,” Angelica said cheerfully, ignoring their restrained hostility. “I wanted very much to thank you for what you did at the Wentworth ball. I doubt Ian would have paid me the slightest notice if I had not scorned propriety and entered the card room.” She took a small measure of pleasure as Victoria managed only a grimace of a smile before she continued. “I also wanted to invite you to the ball I will be hosting in two weeks. I do so hope you will come.”

The two assented warily and Angelica continued her peace offering. “Please feel free to advise me on which eligible gentlemen to invite. This will be my first organized entertainment and I do so want to do a capital job.”

Claire lit up like a Christmas candle and began rattling off names so fast it was a wonder she could breathe. Victoria was looking at Angelica with gratitude.

“I would so appreciate it if you would call on me for tea tomorrow afternoon, and we may discuss my guest list in further detail,” Angelica said, preparing to depart. “One more thing. Do either of you happen to know where I may acquire a cat?”

“What a coincidence that you should ask that,” Claire said. “There are two children with a crate full of kittens in front of the apothecary’s. I think they are giving them away.”

Angelica would have preferred a full-grown cat to deal with the rat problem right away, but the thought of kittens made her heart turn over in her breast. She clasped Claire’s hands in glee, resisting the urge to embrace her. “Oh, thank you! I shall see you both tomorrow then.”

By the time she got to the apothecary shop, there were only three kittens left.

“We didn’t ’ave th’ ’eart ta drown ’em,” a filthy boy of about eight said.

“Ma told us that if we could find ’omes for ’em, they could live,” his little sister added, wiping her runny nose.

“How long have you been out here?” Angelica asked, alarmed at the sight of the underfed, shivering pair.

“’Bout an hour,” the little boy answered.

A pang of shame hit her as she realized that children such as these two were likely a common sight in even the most fashionable districts. They had merely been invisible to her until Ian pointed them out. Something should be done about this! Her mind roared. But she could do nothing now, except to look at their offering.

There were two orange kittens and a black one, rolling and tumbling over each other in the most adorable manner. She wished she could take all three, but one would likely be enough of a handful. After a long moment of deliberation, she chose the black one, thinking his soft coat would match the duke’s silver and black colors quite nicely.

“Is this one a boy or a girl?” she asked softly, hating her ignorance.

The girl took the kitten from her hands, turned it around, and lifted its tail. “This un’s a boy,” she said frankly, handing the tiny feline back to her.

Angelica blushed at her naivety and clutched the warm black ball of fur to her bosom, inhaling the musty feline scent with delight as she reached into her reticule and handed them all the money she carried. Guilt washed over her anew. From the look of their wan faces and shabby clothing, it wasn’t nearly enough.

The children’s eyes grew wide as saucers as they looked at the coins and took note of the regal crest on the coach parked nearby. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” they chorused and bowed.

“My thanks to you, children,” she said, hiding a sad smile. If only she were the monarch. Perhaps then she could do more for them.

As Angelica climbed into the carriage, she saw John Polidori come around the corner. She nearly leaped out of the carriage to follow him, but the kitten mewed and recaptured her attention. As the conveyance made its way down the street, she peered out of the curtains one last time to see him disappear into the apothecary’s shop.

For a moment she wondered if she should tell Ian of the sighting, but when she remembered the mad manner in which he had behaved the last time he saw the chap, she decided not to. She couldn’t bear the thought of her husband murdering the writer. Perhaps when Ian had calmed a little more over the matter, she could mention the sighting.

***

The moment Ian walked into his house, he was attacked. He looked down at the little scrap of black fur that was determined to shred the left leg of his trousers, his brows raised in disbelief. Cats usually fled from him, instinctively recognizing that he was dangerous. This kitten was either completely fearless, or it hadn’t had the benefit of instruction from its mother.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Burke said. “The wee creature was making a nuisance of itself during the duchess’s fitting, so he had to be put out of the room.”

“Very good,” Ian said, handing the butler his coat and hat. “Where is she, by the way?”

The butler bowed. “In the blue salon, Your Grace.”

Ian nodded and picked up the kitten. He stroked the tiny animal behind the ears and grinned as it immediately began to purr. “Come along, scamp. Let us go see your mistress.”

The room looked as if a rainbow had exploded within. Myriad silks, batistes, muslins, and velvets in every conceivable color were draped across every available space, while an army of seamstresses buzzed around his wife like worker bees, each holding up fabrics for her approval. His tiny bride stood regally on a raised platform, alternately nodding and shaking her head at their offerings like a queen.

He only had a second to enjoy the enchanting scene before Madame DuPuis spotted him and curtsied low. “Your Grace.”

The room echoed with feminine gasps as the seamstresses saw him and curtsied with wide eyes. “Your Grace,” they chorused.

“Your ‘wedding present’ is a fierce hunter.” Ian grinned at his wife, wishing more than anything that they could be alone. “He attacked me the moment I came into the house.”

Angelica smiled, displaying a fetching dimple on one cheek before she chastised her new pet. “Loki, you naughty kitten!”

Ian laughed at the clever name. He had expected something simple like “Blackie” or “Custard.” He scratched the kitten behind the ears once more. “Loki, the Norse trickster god. What, pray tell, was the inspiration for that?”

Her voice was rife with laughter. “He likes to feign sleeping before he assaults the seamstresses’ skirts.”

“Very clever. Still, I have my doubts about his ability to solve the rodent problem. Many rats are his size or larger.” Ian fought to keep his attention on the conversation, but the sight of Angelica in her underclothes was most distracting.

“He will grow.” Her eyes shone with adoration as she looked at the kitten. “Isn’t he the most precious thing you have ever seen?”

He looked down at the kitten, curled up in the crook of his arm, Loki was either fast asleep or doing a commendable job of feigning repose. “Not as precious as you, though I admit he is an interesting little fellow.”

But not as interesting as you, Ian thought as he gazed at his bride. His life had been bland and cheerless before she came into it, bringing light and laughter. He didn’t know how he would continue on without her.

While the seamstresses finished up and departed, Angelica regaled him with her adventures of the day and plans for decorating the house and hosting her first ball. She was so anxious to show him her “writing room” that she leaped off the platform and ran out of the salon in nothing but her chemise and drawers. It took all of his effort to keep a dignified expression before the scandalized servants as he followed her up the stairs, admiring her pert backside.

“Isn’t it magnificent?” she cried, smoothing her hands along the cherry wood surface of the desk with unabashed joy.

“I think you are magnificent, Angelica,” he whispered. Her happiness warmed a heart that had long been cold.

“And look at this!” She bent over to open the cupboards, revealing the drawers. Ian nodded, his trousers tightening at the sight of her. She didn’t appear to notice. “Isn’t that clever? I will be able to store more projects than I can write at one time.”

When she pointed that heart-shaped derriere in his direction, Ian was undone. With a low growl, he grabbed her from behind, cupping her breasts in his palms and grinding himself against her body.

“A man can only take so much temptation,” he whispered, and nibbled along her neck, gratified to hear her soft moan of desire. “If you do not want me to ravage you, you should put on more clothing next time.”

“And if I do want you to ravage me?” she whispered breathlessly.

He turned her around to face him. Her lips were deliciously full and moist, her pupils dilated with desire. “Anything my duchess pleases.” He claimed her lips, reveling in the sweet taste of her before he reluctantly stepped back and locked the door.

She gasped and turned a delightful shade of pink as he removed her chemise. “Here?”

He nodded and took one firm nipple into his mouth. “Yes, here. I can wait no longer.”

His hands and mouth explored her delectable body like he was a starving man. This woman was intoxicating; she invaded his blood. And the fact that he only was able to enjoy her for a short period during his long life made him more determined to savor every moment with her.

Her blush deepened when he slid her lacy undergarments slowly down her hips and slender legs. He lifted her onto the desk and knelt between her parted thighs.

“What are you going to do?” she gasped, shuddering.

“I am going to taste you,” he whispered between light kisses on her delicate folds.

With the first flick of his tongue, she cried out and her hips nearly bucked off the desk. He had to pin down her thighs as he languorously explored her secrets with his mouth. The heady musk of her arousal soon permeated the room. Her taste was a delicate bouquet, ambrosia fit for Eros himself.

He groaned with satisfaction as she squirmed and moaned in his grip. Ian looked up at his bride. Her back was arched and her full, heaving breasts pointed upward, the muscles of her firm belly flexing beautifully with her movements. She was as exquisite as a goddess of lust, and as she climaxed under his mouth, he knew he was closer to paradise.

He couldn’t take the time to remove his clothes, so hungry was he to take her. He unfastened his pants and plunged inside her, groaning in pleasure as her tight silken sheath closed around him. Angelica wrapped her arms and legs around him, her hips rocking against his powerful thrusts. This is paradise, he thought a second before his ecstasy peaked and he exploded.

“That was magnificent,” she panted.

A wave of tenderness washed over Ian as he watched his bride dress. Her passion and boundless curiosity for life had awakened him. Before Angelica had come into his life, he’d only been half alive. Careful, he admonished himself. If he weren’t cautious, he may find himself in love with her.