chapter Fourteen
Quite pleased with herself, Sorcha entered the ballroom and spotted Maddie near the main entrance, talking with her grandmother. Sorcha quickly made her way around the perimeter and linked her arm with Maddie’s and grinned at the duchess. “Wonderful evenin’.”
And it was. She might as well be floating in the clouds, and Alec hadn’t even kissed her. But he would, and very soon, if she had correctly read his expression when she’d abandoned him to the lonely night air.
Her smile vanished when the duchess frowned at her.
“Miss Ferguson,” Her Grace grumbled a curt greeting.
Sorcha gulped. The Duchess of Hythe hadn’t called her “Miss Ferguson” since their first meeting at Rhiannon’s wedding the previous spring. “Is somethin’ amiss?”
“It’s nothing,” Maddie began, but the duchess halted Maddie from saying more by holding her bejeweled hand in the air.
“I don’t quite understand Lady Blodswell’s, Lady Eynsford’s, or your devotion, for that matter, to Lord Radbourne and his brothers, but I do wish you wouldn’t subject my granddaughter to men of their ilk.”
Havers! Sorcha bit the inside of her cheek. She shouldn’t have introduced Maddie to the trio after all, but they truly were wonderful men. “I—um,” she started, though she wasn’t certain what she would say.
“Lord Radbourne was quite the gentleman,” Maddie added. “Honestly, Grandmamma, nothing untoward occurred.”
“Yet.” The duchess’ scowl darkened. “But we’ll discuss this later. This is hardly the place, and it is time for dinner.”
She waved her hand in the air to gesture the musicians to finish their set, and then she set about to inform the rest of her guests that it was time to make their way to the dining hall.
“Don’t think on it, Sorcha.” Maddie squeezed her hand, kind as always. “Grandmamma’ll be fine in a while. And she adores you. She was gushing over the flower you restored for her just this evening.”
Sorcha was hardly worried for herself, but she didn’t want to make Maddie’s life more difficult, and she shook her head. “I hope I dinna get ye inta trouble.”
Maddie smiled. “So, I’ve had my first encounter with a rogue. I’ve lived to tell the tale, and I’m sure more degenerate fellows will await me in London next season.”
That was probably true. The little imp inside Sorcha pressed her to ask, “And did ye like him?”
Maddie turned up her nose just a bit. “Grandmamma is right. Lord Radbourne is not the sort for me, but I’m certain he’s fine for someone else.”
Well, if Maddie hadn’t decided to set her cap for the man, the duchess couldn’t stay put out with Sorcha for too long, could she?
People began trickling into the corridor, and Alec and Lord Bexley entered into the ballroom from the terrace.
Immediately, Sorcha sought Alec’s eyes and tried not to blush as the memory of their last conversation replayed in her mind. Had she actually asked him to prove his virility in the bedchamber?
Within a moment, the Earl of Bexley stood before them with Alec close behind him.
“Maddie,” Bexley offered her his arm, “Grandmother wanted me to escort you into dinner to make certain you don’t fall prey to any lurking scoundrels.”
Meaning the duchess wouldn’t take the chance that one of the unruly Hadley men would focus their attention on Maddie. Sorcha shook the thought from her mind. None of it was her concern. The only person she wanted to think about was standing at her side. “Mr. MacQuarrie, how flatterin’ ye havena forgotten me.”
The look he shot her made it clear that he could never forget her nor the conversation they had shared on the terrace; his eyes nearly smoldered. Alec’s heated expression caused Sorcha’s belly to flip, and she quickly took his outstretched arm.
Maddie and Lord Bexley strode from the ballroom, and though Sorcha would have been happy to follow them, Alec apparently had other plans and remained rooted to the ground. Sorcha glanced up at him, wondering why they weren’t following Maddie and her brother.
“You are a minx, Sorcha Ferguson.” His voice rumbled over her like a caress and she shivered.
“I doona ken what ye mean, Alec MacQuarrie,” she shot back at him.
He snorted. It was a most ungentlemanly sound, and she couldn’t help but giggle.
“You know exactly what I mean. You shouldn’t provoke me like that.” His dark gaze bored into hers. “It’s almost as though you’ve thrown down the gauntlet. And now I feel obligated to prove my prowess to you.”
He did? Good heavens. How wonderful. “What’s stoppin’ ye?” she managed to croak out.
He began to tick items off on his fingers. “One, I’ve known you your whole life.”
She interrupted him. “I’m no’ a child any longer, Alec.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he grunted, his gaze again straying to the bodice of her gown. A flush crept up her face. But he continued anyway. “Two, you’re an innocent.”
She nodded. “I am. Ye say that as though it’s a detriment.”
“It is.” He lifted another finger. “Three, I’m a gentleman.”
“At times,” she acquiesced.
“Beg your pardon?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunching together.
She waved her hand in the air breezily. “Ye’re a gentleman when ye need ta be. But when ye go off in search of a meal, there’s no doubt in my mind that ye can be persuaded ta forget yer gentlemanly demeanor.”
She knew immediately that she’d said the wrong thing when a muscle began to tick in his jaw.
“I chose my circumstances, Sorcha, but I wasn’t fully aware at the time of what they’d be. Now it cannot be undone.” That was the most she’d ever heard him say on the matter, and it didn’t look as though he planned to say anymore.
“Did ye have more considerations? A four, five, and six, perhaps?”
“Four, I want you.”
Sorcha’s breath caught. “Ye do?”
“My teeth ache every time you’re around,” he admitted, but he didn’t sound happy about the fact. Poor tortured Alec, she’d gladly let him take from her. All he had to do was ask.
“Ye want ta drink from me?” The very thought made her heart race.
A curt nod was his response.
“Five, my existence is a solitary one. For many reasons, some of which I cannot explain to you.”
“Ye mean ta say, ‘Five, I’m still in love with Cait,’” Sorcha supplied.
“No,” Alec said with a brisk shake of his head. “She’s not even on my mind.”
Her heart nearly thudded to a stop. If he was over his infatuation with Cait, could they have something together?
Something real? He did want her, after all. He’d said so.
“What is on yer mind?”
“You consume my every waking moment.” Then he straightened his shoulders and began to lead her toward the dining hall.
She tugged at his arm. But it was like trying to stop a runaway horse. “Alec,” she implored.
“What is it?” he asked, though he didn’t even look down at her.
“I dinna mean ta say ye were less than a gentleman back there. That came out completely wrong.”
He simply nodded, but his jaw tightened again.
When they reached the table, Alec pulled her chair back rather than wait for a footman, and she delicately sat down.
He settled next to her.
“Can ye eat real food, Alec?” she whispered to him.
“No, I can’t,” he whispered back.
“Then what do ye plan ta do durin’ dinner?”
“You’ll see.”
That was it? “You’ll see.” Apparently, their conversation had come to an end, not that she could stop thinking about it. Alec wanted her. She’d already suspected that. But he was too much of a gentleman to act on it. She shouldn’t have questioned his station as a gentleman. Not at all. He still was all that and more.
Now he was obviously irked with her. And she had no idea how to bring back the playful Alec. She should have left well enough alone.
~*~
Had Alec not been required to escort Sorcha into the dining hall, he’d have made an escape. The urge to do so was still at the forefront of his mind. The little witch somehow managed to get too close for comfort, both with her questions and with her body. Damn, he wanted her. There was no need to deny it. Yet his doing so had made her question his very status as a gentleman. Bloody hell.
Gentlemen tumbled innocents every day. And they didn’t have their positions in society revoked. Oh, they’d be referred to as rakes and whispered about by old matrons, but they were still gentlemen. But, by virtue of Alec’s vampyre nature, his own status appeared to be in question.
If he was less of a gentleman, he’d have already had her in his bed.
This gentleman facade would be his undoing.
“Ye need no’ be so cross with me,” the little witch said beneath her breath.
“I’m not cross with you,” he clarified. He was in lust for her. But certainly not cross. He picked up his wine goblet and lifted it to his lips. But it was all for show. He didn’t swallow or take a sip.
“Ye’re very good at that,” she remarked.
“Very good at pretending to be a gentleman? I do try,” he replied dryly.
She frowned at his words. “Very good at feignin’ yer ability ta eat and drink,” she said, instead. Then she sighed heavily. “When was the last time ye fed?”
“Tonight,” he clipped out.
She choked. “Tonight? Was that where ye ran off ta?”
“I didn’t run off,” he explained. “I was hungry, and I needed to feed.”
“Who was she?” Sorcha’s biting tone took Alec off guard, and he finally looked down at her.
“She?” he asked.
“The one ye took from. I assume ye choose a lady. Blaire said ye always choose ladies. So who was she?”
Blaire again? Who knew the warrior witch had the loosest lips? “The source of my meal would be none of your concern, Sorcha.” She wouldn’t let this one alone, he was certain.
And he was right. She leaned closer to him, so close that her shoulder brushed his. “I wish ye would just take from me,” she whispered.
Alec tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The very idea of taking her had consumed all of his thoughts since he’d arrived at Castle Hythe. Taking from Sorcha as he gave her pleasure would be the quintessential moment. He knew it would be for him. And he’d make it so for her.
“Don’t make offers you can’t fulfill,” he warned.
“I’m a Ferguson, and I would never make an offer I couldna make good on.” She looked mildly affronted.
Good God! As proud a Scot as her father. Alec scrubbed a hand across his brow. “That wasn’t what I meant, lass. Just let it be, will you?”
But she continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “I’m tryin’ ta help ye, Alec. It’s just a bit of blood. Besides, Kettering did it with Blaire. And Blodswell did it with Rhiannon. It canna be all bad.” She shrugged her delicate little shoulders.
Oh, but it was bad. A bad idea for Sorcha. Taking blood served a need for Alec. It fed him, and he traded passion in return. But he would never expect a lady he truly respected and admired to be his next meal. “Let it be, Sorcha,” he warned. Already, his fangs were pricking at his upper lip, ready to make themselves known. That was the last thing he needed.
“I’m jealous,” she said quickly.
Alec stared down at her. Sorcha’s face was flushed, her freckles standing out in stark comparison across the bridge of her nose. “Jealous of?” he asked. He must sound like a half-wit. But he wasn’t following her thought process at all.
“I doona want ye ta take from anyone else.” She shrugged her shoulders again. “I doona like the very idea. I doona want ye ta have someone else in yer arms.” She took a bite of her food and pretended they were having the same type of quiet conversation that all the other occupants of the table were having.
“Why not?” Alec prodded. What did she mean by that? If he had a heart, it would be stamping a beat within his chest.
She speared a carrot and ignored his gaze all together.
“Sorcha?” he tried again.
She laid her fork down. “I refuse ta spell it out for ye, Alec.” Then she pointed toward his plate. “What do ye plan ta do with that? Claim a stomach ailment?”
He was much more interested in what she’d almost said, but she didn’t seem likely to say any more. So Alec grinned slowly. “No. Watch this,” he said. Faster than she could blink, he traded her plate for his. She looked up and down the table, but no one even noticed the switch. Alec couldn’t help but smile. Sorcha wouldn’t have noticed it either, if he hadn’t bade her to watch.
“I had no idea ye could move so fast.” She grimaced down into her plate. “But I’m no’ certain I can eat this. I just finished mine.”
She was tiny as a bird. No one would be surprised if she didn’t eat as much as a morsel. “Shove it around on your plate, then,” he groused. “Make a good show of it. Besides, with the gown you’re wearing, I doubt anyone is watching your plate.”
“My dress is just fine,” she complained, but she did finally look at him as she said it.
“Just fine if you want to get yourself tumbled.” He really should watch his tone, but it was blasted hard. Everything was hard. From the entire situation to his manhood. Thank God for draping table linens.
“If I dinna ken better, I’d say ye are also jealous.”
Perhaps he was. That was definitely possible. After all, he didn’t want other men gazing at her, certainly not the way Eynsford’s blasted brothers did.
“Ye canna go and drink from a lass and then expect me ta be a paragon of virtue,” she warned.
That did it. He tossed his napkin onto his plate. Alec wouldn’t have her think him a scoundrel, not for one more second. For some ungodly reason, her opinion mattered to him. He leaned close enough to murmur in her ear. “I didn’t take from anyone. I visited that little butcher shop you mentioned to me. And I had some blasted goat’s blood. Maybe even mixed with something else just as bad.” Vile stuff it was. But it quenched the thirst. Well enough, anyway.
“That’s all I’ve had since I arrived at Castle Hythe.”
“No maids? No widows? No whores?”
What the devil? “Just what do you know about whores?”
Following his lead, Sorcha tossed her napkin to her plate as well. “I ken a great many things, Alec MacQuarrie.” Then she pushed her chair back, nodded to the old codger who had somehow ended up on her left, and stalked from the dining hall.