chapter Twelve
Sorcha watched Alec flee the ballroom as though his life depended on a quick escape. What in the world was wrong with him? For a moment she’d hoped he was experiencing some of the pain Lords Kettering and Blodswell had suffered before they transformed back into human men.
She’d hoped that perhaps the talk of his time with her in the orangery this afternoon and the event itself had sparked a bit of life in the man she had known all her life, but that had all been wishful thinking on her part. Foolish, foolish wishful thinking.
Alec apparently hadn’t suffered any headaches, and she’d never seen him touch his chest as though to ease any suffering. But something had to be bothering him. How infuriating not to know what that was! She could ask Cait, not that she’d get an answer. The seer lived by a code as far as her powers were concerned. Of course, Cait did want Sorcha to help Alec see that he should be among the living. How could she get Cait to tell her…?
Maddie’s voice interrupted Sorcha’s thoughts. “Where is your Mr. MacQuarrie off to?”
Sorcha pasted on a cheerful smile as she turned and greeted her friend. After all, there was no sense in admitting that she had no idea what Alec was up to and that it was killing her. “He said he’ll be back before dinner.”
Maddie linked her arm with Sorcha’s. “Stroll about the room with me, will you?”
Strolling was better than standing in the corner looking like a dolt, so Sorcha nodded in agreement.
They had only taken a few steps together before Maddie whispered, “You really do know Lord Radbourne. I saw you walking with him.”
Ah, so despite her protestations, Maddie did want to meet the Hadley men. “Do ye want me ta introduce ye?”
Maddie’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Of course not! Grandmamma says he’s the worst sort of fortune hunter.”
Sorcha couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “The worst sort? What is the best sort of fortune hunter like? Does he whisper sweet nothings to your guineas?”
Her friend’s green eyes narrowed to little slits. “I hardly find that amusing, Sorch. I just wanted to warn you. Tell me you haven’t set your cap for him.”
Less than a sennight earlier, Sorcha couldn’t have said any such thing. But now… well, now she didn’t know what she wanted. That might not be entirely true. If she was being completely truthful with herself, she would admit that what she really wanted was for Alec MacQuarrie to feel something for her. Something real. Something that would make his heart beat once more, for her. But she knew that wasn’t really possible. And she didn’t want to be like him, pining away for something, for someone for the rest of her existence.
“I havena decided,” she muttered quietly.
Maddie frowned in response. “Well, you should decide and quickly. He and his disreputable brothers are coming this way.”
Sorcha turned her attention to the three very masculine, very Lycan gentlemen headed toward them. Weston Hadley reached them first and bowed in greeting. His hazel eyes twinkled, though he didn’t smile. Maddie stiffened at Sorcha’s side.
“I hope you didn’t forget our dance, Miss Ferguson,” the scarred Lycan said softly.
Maddie’s grip on Sorcha’s arm tightened as though warning her against such a foolish action. Sorcha smoothly extricated her arm from her friend’s grasp and smiled at the gentleman. “I would be honored, Mr. Hadley.”
“I asked her first,” grumbled Grayson Hadley, coming up behind them.
Weston shot his twin a triumphant look. “Finally beat you, Gray.” He offered his hand to Sorcha, and she happily allowed him to pull her closer.
“I wasna aware ye were competin’,” Sorcha teased.
“Everything is a competition with these two,” Radbourne said, his voice droll.
“But not you, my lord?” Maddie asked, surprising Sorcha with her impromptu question. Perhaps she truly did want to meet the trio after all.
The viscount smiled slowly at the heiress, which made a slow flush creep up Maddie’s neck. “Why compete with them when I will win, regardless?” He very gently bumped Sorcha’s shoulder with his arm. “Do introduce me, Miss Ferguson, so I can ask the lady to dance.”
“And risk angerin’ the duchess?” Her Grace would have an apoplectic fit if she knew Maddie was being pursued by the Hadley brothers.
Lord Radbourne chuckled. “Considering our past encounters, I believe you are fearless, lass. So do us the honors, will you?”
Sorcha ignored the warmth in her cheeks from his lordship’s veiled comment. Though she wasn’t certain if he thought her a risk taker for consorting with vampyres or for her attempt at folding a lifeless groom into a carriage all by herself. “Since when do ye wait for an introduction, Lord Radbourne?” she asked.
“True, true,” he sighed. “Why should I stand on ceremony?”
He was going about this all wrong, and the duchess might very well have Sorcha’s head; but what else could she do? “All right. Lady Madeline Hayburn, Viscount Radbourne and…” She tapped Weston’s arm, which still held hers, “Mr. Weston Hadley and…” She nodded in Gray’s direction, “Mr. Grayson Hadley.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Radbourne grinned unrepentantly and reached for Maddie’s hand, bowing regally over it. “May I claim this dance, Lady Madeline?” he asked, with a playful arch of his eyebrow.
Maddie couldn’t very well say no, could she? Not if she planned to dance with anyone else for the rest of the night.
“Thank heavens for social propriety,” Radbourne whispered to Sorcha as he led Maddie away. “She’s too nice to even refuse me.”
“Until her grandmother notices,” Sorcha whispered back.
“The duchess will have yer head.”
But then Weston directed Sorcha onto the dance floor.
“Your friend seems skittish as a kitten.”
“Kitten?” Sorcha giggled. “An interestin’ comment for a dog ta make.”
A frown settled on Weston’s face. “No matter what MacQuarrie might say, Miss Ferguson, my brothers and I are not dogs.”
“I-I meant no offense,” she muttered as the first chords of a waltz began.
Weston Hadley bowed before her and swept her into his arms for the dance. “Think nothing of it, lass.”
But it was hard not to think about her comment when he looked so miserable. “Honestly, Mr. Hadley, I ken many of yer kind and I adore each and every one of them.”
Finally he smiled, and she felt immeasurably better.
“Truly, my dear, think nothing of it.”
This time she believed him, and she smiled in return as he led her in a turn. She noticed his eyes settled on Lord Radbourne and Maddie just a few feet away. “She isna skittish,” Sorcha said quietly, “just cautious.”
~*~
Alec rushed as quickly as he could to the butcher’s shop in an effort to quench the insatiable thirst he felt for Sorcha.
He was thoroughly amazed that he could even walk, as aroused as she made him, much less run, but he arrived within moments. Unfortunately, the butcher was still hard at work. But, lucky for him, that at least meant fresh takings, rather than the hours-old blood he’d had previously. He enchanted the butcher, partook of a few cups of the lifegiving substance, and rushed back to the ball.
Yet when he arrived, he found that the mere smell of Sorcha’s apple blossom scent had him thirsty again. Her scent reached him from all the way across the room, where she danced within one of the Hadley twins’ arms. Damn the dog for putting his hands on her.
This single-minded attraction he felt for Sorcha was driving him mad. Not since he’d become a vampyre, and certainly not before, had he been this attracted to a woman.
Not even Cait had appealed to him the way Sorcha now did.Alec shrugged his shoulders back, forcing himself to think about what he’d just admitted to himself. He had an attraction for his lifelong friend. That much was certain. But he’d never felt such a depth of emotion for anyone but Cait.
He not only wanted to be inside Sorcha, he wanted to know what was inside her as well.
“Why so serious, Alec?” a soft voice asked from his left.
Alec looked down into the sky-blue eyes he’d always thought would be in his future.
“Lady Eynsford,” Alec said with a stiff nod. “You’re faring well, I hope.” If he didn’t look at her, perhaps she would go away. Not bloody likely, but it was worth a shot.
“Quite well,” she agreed. “But I’m curious ta ken what has ye tied up in knots.”
Blast her meddling soul. “Now you can read my mood as well as the future?” he asked, keeping his eyes on Sorcha and Hadley all the while. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Oh, ye hide it well. But no’ well enough, no’ from me,” she countered. “Admit it. Ye’re taken with her.”
“With whom, Lady Eynsford?” Perhaps if he said her title enough times, she’d remember that she’d thrown him over for that damned Lycan and go away.
“With whom?” she taunted. “Ye ken quite well of whom I speak, Alec MacQuarrie. Ye havena been able ta take yer eyes off her since ye walked back inta the room. Ye’re lookin’ at her right this moment, in fact.”
“If your husband’s relations didn’t seem bound and determined to hound her, I’d be able to enjoy my own pursuits.” If he didn’t look at her, she might believe him. If only he could believe it himself.
“Jealousy becomes ye, Alec.” She giggled. The damn woman giggled. Blast her. “Ye need no’ wish I was a man so ye could dispose of me,” she whispered playfully.
“Get out of my head, Cait,” he growled.
“I wasna in yer head, ye fool. I was makin’ an educated guess.” She inhaled deeply. “A correct one, obviously.”
Alec jammed his hands into his pockets. It was either do that or let her see how much her observations affected him.
“It’s all right if ye’re infatuated with her,” Cait said softly.
He ground his teeth together so hard that he was certain people could hear the sound in the next county. “I’m not infatuated,” he grumbled.
“No. It’s much more than that. Or it will be if ye let it.”
He finally turned and looked down at her, hoping he would get her attention. “Pardon me for being blunt, but whatever it is, it’s none of your concern, Lady Eynsford.”
She rocked her head from side to side, as though weighing whether it was or not. “Perhaps no’,” she admitted as her blue eyes seemed to penetrate his soul. “But I want ye ta ken one thing.”
Only one? “Which is?” he sighed.
“Ye’re worthy of her, Alec.”
He wouldn’t argue that point, not with Cait; but there was no way that he’d force Sorcha to accept him as he was. He wouldn’t condemn her to life with a parasite like him, not when she had a bright future ahead of her. Sorcha was all things good and kind and happy and alive. “Worthy of her, but not you,” he remarked dryly.
“We werena meant ta be.”
Alec spotted Eynsford walking in their direction, his eyes singularly focused on Cait as though he was ready to retrieve her. And for once, Alec would be happy to see her go.
“Truer words have never been spoken, Cait,” he said quietly as he left her standing there at the edge of the room.
Alec circled the perimeter of the ballroom, keeping his eyes trained on Sorcha and the Hadley mutt all the while.
Damn the Lycan for grinning at her and for being charmed by her, not that he could blame the man. But if the lout didn’t put more space between them and hold her at a more respectable distance, Alec just might give him a second scar, this one across the center of his forehead. Or his groin. Alec wasn’t certain which.
Sorcha spotted Alec, and her warm, brown eyes twinkled. She smiled at him, and Alec felt a bit of the tension in the back of his neck dissipate. He couldn’t help but smile back. Just being in her presence made him feel better. Happiness was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. And he wasn’t certain he felt it now. But she made him feel good. That was close enough to discomfort him.
Thankfully, the excruciatingly long set finally came to an end, and Alec pushed through the crowd to intercept Sorcha before anyone else could claim her. “My dear Miss Ferguson.” He bowed before her. “You do keep the most questionable company.”
“I was just thinking the same,” Weston Hadley growled.
“Havers!” Sorcha release her hold on Hadley’s arm and brushed past Alec. “I’m no’ sure if the lot of ye are children or grown men.” She pushed her way toward the terrace doors and only stopped when that blasted Bexley stepped in her path.
“You do look so ravishing this evening, Miss Ferguson,” the Englishman purred.
The earl was two seconds away from having Alec unceremoniously remove his head in front of an audience.
“Evening, Bexley. Do excuse us.” Alec captured Sorcha’s arm and began to direct her toward her previous destination of the terrace.
“Not headed to the orangery, by chance, are you?” The man’s voice floated over the din, smacking Alec squarely in his chest. Bexley knew. Somehow the little rodent knew about Alec’s encounter with Sorcha that afternoon.
Alec released Sorcha’s arm and turned back to face Bexley. If the man had any idea of the precarious situation in which he found himself, he didn’t show it. A smug little smile tugged at his lips, and a quick glance in Sorcha’s direction made Alec’s vision turn a bit red at the edges. “I advise you to keep your own counsel, Bexley, or you will have to answer to me.”
The earl tilted his head to one side as though considering the threat. Then he nodded and his grin deepened. “Until next time, my dear.”
There wouldn’t be a next time, not if Alec could help it. He returned his attention to Sorcha, placing his hand on the small of her back and directing her through the open terrace doors. If he wasn’t already dead, she’d be the death of him. She wasn’t a child any longer. She couldn’t play as she once had. No more frolicking in orangeries. No more carelessly dancing through life. No more attracting the attention of every scoundrel within a five-mile radius.
“Why must ye do that?” She turned on him, her brow furrowed with irritation.
Was she actually annoyed with him? “You mean threaten blackguards like Bexley? Because you seem blissfully unaware of the havoc you create, Sorcha. This isn’t Edinburgh. You’re heavily ensconced in the cream of English society, and you can’t continue in this manner.”
Her perfect little nose scrunched up as though she smelled something distasteful. “That is no’ what I was referrin’ ta at all. And I do no’ create havoc.”
“Oh, aye, you do.” Of which his jumbled emotions were testimony.
“Doona change the subject.” She jabbed one pointy finger into his chest. “There’s no reason for ye ta treat the Hadley men with such disdain. They havena done a thing ta ye. I’m no’ sure I even recognize ye anymore, Alec.”
That’s what this is about? Those damned Lycans? Her precious wolf-men? The fellows she was bound and determined to catch no matter what? A bit of despair settled in the pit of his stomach, and Alec took a step away from her. “Perhaps you may have noticed, Sorch. I’m not the same as I once was.”
“Nay, ye’re no’. But ye were raised ta be a gentleman, Alec. That hasna changed. And for the life of me, I canna understand the incessant snipin’ back and forth between vampyres and Lycans. Ye have so much in common. Ye should get along famously.”
They had so much in common? Aside from their common lust over certain witches, Alec really couldn’t concede her point and he snorted in response.
Sorcha folded her arms across her middle, raising the tempting mounds of her breasts higher. His eyes drifted downward until she began speaking. “Ye canna help what ye are, and neither can they. Ye live among humans but hide the truth of yerself, just like they do.”
“The same could be said of witches, Sorcha. Yet you and I are like night and day.” And it was true. Where he preferred quiet darkness and solitude, she was all that was sunny and cheerful. “I am death and you are life, lass.”
Her face seemed to fall a bit, yet she took a step toward him. “It doesna have ta be that way, Alec.” She placed her hand on his chest, and the warmth from her fingers stirred something inside him. He almost felt alive again.
“I wish—” He shook his head. Wishes were better left unsaid. Particularly ones that couldn’t come true.
Sorcha inhaled deeply but didn’t remove her hand from the center of his chest. Those creamy swells of skin at her bodice rose and fell with her exhale, once again capturing his interest.
“Alec MacQuarrie, are ye starin’ at my bosom?” She pulled her hand from his person and stepped back.
Of course he was starting at her breasts. They were probably absolutely beautiful, if one took the time to disrobe her properly. He coughed into his hand. “I was doing no such thing.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Luckily, his teeth weren’t descending. Not quite yet.
The skin at her throat suddenly pinkened, her freckles becoming even more pronounced. What he wouldn’t give to taste them, each and every one.
“Ye are starin’ at my bosom,” she complained. But there was something in her gaze. Something he couldn’t quite decipher.
Alec leaned closer to her and said softly, “If you don’t want men to stare at them, perhaps you should cover them up.”She gasped. “Oh, aye, it’s my fault. Should I have ta have cover up ta my ears too, just because men like ye canna control yer basic instincts?”
Oh, she had no idea how much he was in control. No idea at all.