chapter Five
Sorcha settled into the coachman’s box and waited for Alec to assume the place beside her. Why was he being so difficult? She wasn’t anything to him, not really. Friends, neighbors. Nothing more. Was it simply that he didn’t wish anyone else to find the happiness that had eluded him?
Well, that wasn’t terribly charitable of him.
Or was this just the way of vampyres? Did they enjoy ruining everyone else’s plans? She hadn’t known Lord Kettering when he was a vampyre. And she’d only briefly met Lord Blodswell when he was still a vampyre, though the man had seemed most agreeable even in that state. Of course, since then, both gentlemen had found their true loves, the women for whom their hearts beat once more, and been restored to the men they had once been, albeit in a time period much later than when they were born.
Alec slid into the spot beside her, and she couldn’t help glancing at his profile. She could tell that he was unhappy with this new life of his. He frowned more than he used to, and the warmness that had once exuded from him had been replaced by cold, vacant emptiness. Sorcha folded her hands in her lap. They drove past The Knight’s Arms and the merriment within, headed straight for the darkness past Folkestone.
She wished that Alec could find the same peace Kettering and Blodswell had discovered, that he could be transformed back to the man she’d once known. But that was never to be. His true love, Cait, loved another. Poor Alec was doomed to spend an eternity without the one woman he’d always assumed he’d love, marry, and have children with.
Thinking of him that way made it much more difficult to be annoyed with him. Could she do something, anything, to make him smile the way he once had? Something that might return the old twinkle in his eye?
“You are completely out of control.” His irritated voice bit into her thoughts.
Sorcha’s head snapped up to meet his gaze, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were trained on the road before them. She wasn’t out of control. She knew exactly what she was doing. So her plan hadn’t gone as… well, planned. She wasn’t out of control, and it wasn’t very nice of him to say so. “Ye have become quite opinionated since ye’ve become a vampyre, Alec.”
“I thought I was a nursemaid,” he grumbled.
“Aye, that too,” she agreed. “I think I liked ye better before.”
He scoffed. “Aye, me too.”
Well then why was he behaving this way? He was in control of himself, after all. “I doona ken why ye have appointed yerself my protector.”
“Perhaps because you need one and I’m around.”
Sorcha rolled her eyes.
“I can’t believe, Sorch,” he continued, “that Seamus Ferguson would be happy with you chasing after men of their ilk.”
Men of their ilk? Sorcha somehow managed not to snort.
“Ye mean Lycans, do ye no’? They are noble beasts. No’ ‘men of their ilk.’”
Finally, he shifted his midnight gaze to her and she almost shivered from the intensity of it. “I’m barely keeping my temper at bay. Don’t provoke me.”
“Or what?” she muttered to herself. But she knew he had heard her because he clenched his jaw even tighter and a muscle twitched right beside his eye. “Doona pretend that this is about me, Alec. We both ken better.”
“I beg your pardon,” he growled.
Sorcha sighed and shifted away from him on the bench.
“We both ken this is about Cait, no’ me. But she doesna need or want protection, and neither do I.”
Alec’s frown deepened as he returned his eyes to the road before them. He was quiet for the longest time before he finally made a sound. “Cait’s lost,” he said quietly. “I know that. But you don’t have to be.”
But Cait wasn’t lost. She was happier than she’d ever been. Though Sorcha couldn’t bring herself to say those words to Alec. No matter how infuriating she found his sudden overprotectiveness, she could never purposely hurt him worse than he already had been. Doing so would be cruel, and she’d always adored him. He was kind and honorable. Intelligent and admirable. Not to mention, the most handsome man in all of Edinburgh.
She’d been just as surprised as Alec when Cait had married Eynsford. Of course, all of Edinburgh had been surprised by their sudden wedding. Sorcha, along with the rest of the city, had been convinced Cait would eventually accept Alec’s proposal, and they’d be the prettiest couple in all of Scotland. Wealthy and powerful too.
Even so, if she’d been listening carefully to Cait, Sorcha wouldn’t have been surprised. Cait was clairvoyant, and she had declared most fervently on more than one occasion that Mr. MacQuarrie wasn’t in her future. But Sorcha had always suspected that Cait would eventually give in to the handsome Scot. After all, who would say no to Alec? And who could keep saying it?
“Is it so hard ta believe I might ken what’s best for me?”
No one else thought she did, but she thought it wise not to admit that.
“Those… men,” he bit out, “aren’t for you, Sorch.”
She sighed.
“Is it so hard to believe I might want what’s best for you? That I might know what that is. And that it might not be what you want?” He flicked the ribbons harder, pushing the team of bays along the road at a faster clip. “Though why you would want one of those beasts I have no idea.”
Because they were loyal, spirited, and lived life to the fullest, at least if they were anything like the other Lycans of her acquaintance. And Alec’s acquaintance. “Are ye still angry Lord Benjamin dinna tell ye the truth of his circumstances?”
~*~
The truth of his circumstances? That his oldest and dearest friend was a drooling beast of a man who sought the moon like it was part of him? That he was not the man he’d portrayed himself to be and had kept that fact a secret from Alec since they were twelve years old? He had every reason to be angry about that.
He hadn’t realized the truth until after that terrible night when he’d been transformed into the monster he was now.
Once his sense of smell had been enhanced beyond measure, Alec had known upon his first scent of his old friend that Ben was a Lycan. The betrayal was still difficult to accept after all they’d been through together. “This has nothing to do with Ben.”
And it didn’t. Not at all. Ben wasn’t at Castle Hythe or Eynsford Park, trying to lure Sorcha down a dark path not meant for a lady of her sweet innocence. She was as delicate as the flowers she controlled with her thoughts and emotions, not a chit to be toyed with the way Radbourne and his brothers were wont to do.
“Little Rose was born, ye ken?” she said, completely knocking his thoughts off-balance.
What had she said? Little Rose Westfield had been born? Yes, he knew that. It would have been impossible to miss. Ben had sent more than one letter announcing the blessed event. More than one unanswered letter.
“She has the prettiest mop of red hair, just like Elspeth,” Sorcha continued merrily.
He could hear the smile in her voice, and strangely enough, it made him smile too. It had been so long since he’d done so that the smile didn’t quite feel right on his face. “Does the tiny little witch have her mother’s green eyes too?”
“No, silly,” she laughed. “Bairns have blue eyes. Though Benjamin swears they’ll change ta look just like his.”
“They haven’t yet?”
“They’re blue as cornflowers. And gettin’ bluer every day.”
Alec could just imagine the infant witch in his mind’s eye.
His oldest friend’s daughter who must look amazingly similar to her mother. He smiled despite himself.
“Benjamin wanted ye ta be Rose’s godfather. He said he sent ye letters askin’ ye ta do so.”
The smile vanished from Alec’s face and he was glad to see Castle Hythe on the horizon.
“He has brothers who can fill that role.”
“But they’re his brothers. Ye’re his friend. Ye’re the one he wants ta look after Rose’s future.”
“I can’t step foot in church, Sorcha,” he growled, even though he didn’t want to. It wasn’t her fault that he’d been attacked by an enraged vampyre. It wasn’t her fault that his only choice had been to die or become the same sort of monster who had stolen his life. It wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t be little Rose Westfield’s godfather. “Ben should have known better than to ask.”
She leaned against him and slid her hand around his arm. Her warmth and apple blossom scent enveloped him.
“I am sorry, Alec.”
He nodded because there was nothing left to say. She was sorry. Ben was sorry. Damn it, even Alec was sorry.
But sorry couldn’t fix all that had gone wrong in Alec’s life. It wouldn’t make Cait love him. It wouldn’t make him human again. It was just a sorry excuse for a word.
Alec focused on the castle, growing larger and larger each moment as they neared it, and he tried to clear his mind. “The fellow in the carriage. He’ll be all right in the morning?”
“The valerian dust will leave him with a headache, but he’ll be all right.”
“Will he remember you coercing him into taking you to the village?”
Sorcha shrugged. “Probably. But I think Johnny has a soft spot for me. I doona think he’ll say anythin’.”
A soft spot. Any man with eyes would have a soft spot for Sorcha and a very hard something else. “It’s better not to take the chance. I’ll have a talk with him in the morning to ensure his silence.”
She sucked in a breath beside him. “Are ye goin’ ta enchant him? Can I watch?”
If he hadn’t been holding onto the reins, he’d have fallen right off the bench. He had planned to enchant the groom, to wipe his memory of the previous night. But how the devil did she know about that power?
“No, you can’t watch!” he barked. “How do you even know of such things?”
Completely immune to his ill humor, she smiled up at him. The stars reflected in her dark eyes, and she reminded him once more of the most innocent of creatures.
“Blaire,” she answered cheerily. “She told Rhi and I that we were never ta look a vampyre in the eyes. That ye can control a human by enchantin’ them.”
“Apparently Rhiannon didn’t pay any attention to that lesson,” he grumbled. And Blaire Kettering should know better than to go around talking about vampyre powers.
Others of his kind weren’t particularly happy about their secrets getting out.
Sorcha giggled. “Well, Rhi had ta look Lord Blodswell in the eyes. How was she ta get him ta fall in love with her otherwise?”
How indeed? Alec shook his head. “No looking vampyres in the eyes, Sorch. Blaire was right. And no following Lycans around the countryside unless you want to get yourself mauled.”
She laughed again. The sweet, melodic sound made him think of Scotland and of a less complicated time. “But I can look in yer eyes, Alec. I ken ye’d never hurt me.”
No. He’d never hurt her and he’d make damnsure no other man, be he Lycan or human, did either.
“Can I ask ye a question, Alec?”
As though he could stop her. He sighed heavily. “What is it, lass?”
“When was the last time ye had a bit of blood? Ye look a little pale.”
“It’s the moonlight,” he hedged. “You look pale too.”
“Do I?” she mused aloud. “Hmm. But ye dinna answer my question.”
Of course she’d notice that. “About when I last had sustenance? Yesterday before I left London.”
“Oh. I thought maybe ye’d found a maid or someone at the tavern in Folkestone.”
She would never cease to amaze him. How the devil did she know such things? She must have read his expression because she shrugged once more.
“Blaire says they’re the easiest targets for a vampyre.”
“Blaire should learn to keep her mouth closed.”
Sorcha grinned up at him. “I’ll let ye tell her that yerself. I doona need any bruises.” She snuggled closer to him on the bench. “She also says ye can go days without feedin’.”
True. The more one moved around, the more one needed to feed. And he needed blood soon.
“Well, if ye doona want ta enchant a barmaid, ye can always take what ye need from me.”
Alec choked on a cough. Good God! He couldn’t believe she’d said that. Now all he’d think about the rest of the night was sipping her blood and sharing his passion. Bloody perfect! “Are ye all right?” She hit his back, as though that would stop his sputtering.
“Sorcha!” he hissed. “You can’t go around saying things like that. Some less principled vampyre might take you up on that offer.”
She blinked at him and lifted her wrist up to him as though it was an offering. “Well, I have plenty. I think it would be all right ta share. Especially if ye doona want ta go back ta Folkestone.”
“Sorcha!” he growled louder.
She sighed as though he were the most troublesome man of her acquaintance. “Or ye can visit the butcher shop in the village. I noticed it yesterday when Maddie and I were shoppin’. But I’d think I must taste better than whatever ye could find there.”
He was one hundred percent certain she was right.
Sorcha would taste of sweetness, innocence, and light, and he would be the worst sort of cad if he took her up on her offer. Now if he could only forget the images she’d planted in his mind.
Butcher shop in the village. Damn it all to hell.
He stopped the carriage, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath, even though he no longer needed one. She’d already planted the seeds in his mind, so he had the taste of her on the tip of his tongue; it was easy to make his teeth descend. They were teeth that could pierce her flesh, taking the source of her life into his own body as sustenance. He turned to her and smiled, fully aware that his rakish grin of years past, the one she was used to seeing, no longer existed.
“Oh, my,” she gasped as one hand fluttered to land on her chest in surprise.
“Oh, my, indeed.” He nodded as he moved to pick the reins back up.
“Wait,” she said as she pressed her hand to his arm.
He tried to keep the bite out of his voice, but he was fairly certain he was failing miserably when he said, “What, Sorcha?”
“Well, ye canna let me have a peek and then turn away. At least let me look at ye. Doin’ otherwise is a bit like givin’ a child a birthday gift and then takin’ it back.” She huffed in indignation.
“You are too curious for your own good,” he grunted. “Or mine,” he mumbled under his breath. But against his best judgment, he turned back toward her. The vision that met him was enough to floor him.
Sorcha sat beside him, her delicate little hand pressed against his arm. Only the Sorcha he remembered was gone. With her head tilted in curiosity, the moonlight caught her face, transforming the girl he’d once known to the woman who sat beside him. When had she grown up?
“I think they’re quite handsome,” she said with a nod of approval.
She reached out as though to touch his mouth. “Don’t,” he said as he captured her hand in his.
~*~
He needed to let someone touch him. He needed it more than anything. Alec had once been so loving and so casually free with his emotions. Now he was this big ball of tormented vampyre with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sorcha tried to turn her hand and extract it from his heavy grasp, but he just covered it with his other so that her hand was sandwiched between his.
“You’re so warm,” he said absently, his voice tortured, as though his words were wrenched from his very soul.
“And ye’re so cold,” she replied, but she raised her other hand to cover his and squeezed. He closed his eyes. Such a tormented man. “Ye need someone ta warm ye up.”
His eyes flew open. “There is no one who can do that for me. Not anymore.”
“So, ye think ye’re doomed ta live this life? This life ye canna tolerate? This life is no’ meant for ye, Alec. I’m certain of it.”
“Don’t assume my life will be returned to me like Blodswell’s and Kettering’s were. I’m not like them.” She could almost hear the words she knew to be in his head.
My heart is not mine to recover because I gave it away.
He’d not say the words aloud. Not now.
“Ye have a ring,” Sorcha said as she searched for the relic with her fingertips and lifted it toward the moon. “That is all ye need. That and ta fall in love.”
He snorted.
“Do ye think yerself unlovable? Is that it? I can promise ye that is far from the truth.”
In a sudden move that nearly scared her, he took her shoulders in his hands and brought her face close to his.
“Do you think you know me?” he snapped. “Do you think you know all that I’ve become? You have no idea, Sorcha. You have no idea what I have to do to survive now.”
“Then tell me,” she urged softly as she reached up to touch the side of his face. He leaned into her hand, almost like a cat that wanted to be petted. He didn’t even seem to realize it. But she did. So, she threaded her fingers into the hair at his temple and tried to soothe him with a gentle stroke.
He immediately realized her intention and jerked his head away, just when she got too close for comfort. For his, not hers. She could be much closer and still be comfortable. “That may work for Lycans, a scratch behind the ears, but it will not work for vampyres. We’re a completely different breed,” he ground out.
“Fine,” she quipped. She’d had just about enough of his brooding. “I’ll find a Lycan who might like my strokin’ more than ye do.” Then she put her hand back down in her own lap.
“Over my dead body,” he growled.
“That should be easy ta do seein’ as how yer body is as dead as yer heart. It is, is it no’?” she goaded him. She knew she was crossing a line, but she couldn’t help it. The brooding vampyre act was growing tiresome.
“My heart is dead,” he affirmed. “The rest of me, apparently, is fully alive, as long as I act the part of the parasite I am and take the life source of others.” He said the last drolly with a casual flick of his wrist.
“The rest of ye is alive?” she cried. “How dare ye tell me a lie like that, Alec MacQuarrie?” She turned and scrambled down from the carriage, landing solidly on her feet. He was only seconds behind her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he stalked her.
“As far from ye as I possibly can,” she tossed over her shoulder. She wasn’t going to sit there and let him lie to her.
She’d walk all the way back to Castle Hythe on her own.
However, Sorcha had only taken a few steps before Alec overtook her. “Why are you running from me?” he asked as he spun her around.
She blew a wisp of hair from in front of her eyes. It landed back across her brow, and he very casually reached out to push it back, as though it was something he wanted to do. “I absolutely despise a liar,” she bit out. “And I have had just about enough of ye ta last me a lifetime. So, go on, Alec. Go on and wallow in yer own self pity. But stay away from me. I plan ta find a nice beast of my own ta settle down with. And ye are standin’ solidly in my path.”
He looked at her as though she’d grown two heads. “Just why are you mad at me?” he croaked. “You dashed from the carriage as though the hounds of hell were barking at your heels.”
“No,” she clarified. “Just ye.” Her toe began to tap in frustration as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared at him.
“When did you become such a shrew?” he taunted.
“I’m too young ta be a shrew,” she tossed back. “Ye really should apologize for callin’ me names. I’ve done nothin’ but try ta help ye tonight.”
“Help me?” Alec scoffed. “I don’t recall that. Though I certainly remember you infuriating me at every possible opportunity.” He began to tick items off on his fingers. “One, you sneak out in the dead of night to chase after some Lycans who don’t even know you’re alive because you have some misguided notion that one of them is in your future.”
He bumped another finger. “Two, you drugged the Hythe’s poor groom with something even I’m not familiar with and then convinced a Lycan to fold the groom’s body up in the carriage.” He ticked off a third finger. “Three, you forced me to leave my search for a good meal in order to escort you home.”
“Do ye always get so surly when ye’re hungry?” she shot at him.
He groaned aloud. “Probably. Do you always have a quip for everything?”
“Probably,” she replied. “Are ye finished with yer list? If so, I’d like ta go back ta Castle Hythe.”
He appeared to mull it over in his mind. “No, I’m not finished.” He ticked off another finger. “Four, you vex me to no end.”
“Now are ye done?” she asked.
“For the moment,” he replied.
“Then listen ta me and listen ta me well, Alec MacQuarrie. From this moment forth, ye will stop tryin’ ta be my protector. Ye can stop tryin’ ta bemy friend, if that’s what ye desire. Because I canna stand the broodin’ and the anger any longer. Yer circumstances have changed, yes, but yer choice of how ta behave is yer own. I’ll no’ have any part ofye from this day forth unless ye can approach mewith civility. And an occasional smile would be nice too.”
“Sorcha—” he complained.
“Ye had yer turn. I’m no’ finished,” she snapped.
“Oh, well then, please continue,” he said with a sarcastic sweep of his hand.
“Ye may no’ have any hope for love or anyone to share yer life with, but I do. I want more than anythin’ ta be a wife ta a husband who loves me. Ta wake up beside him every day and know that no matter what happens, he’s mine. And I’ll do whatever it takes ta find one. So, help me God, if ye stand in my way, ye will see the full force of my powers.”
“You control plants, Sorcha,” he scoffed. Then his eyes narrowed. “What else can you do?”
“My husband will be the one who shares those secrets with me,” she said, knowing her tone was as brittle as old parchment.
“Bloody hell,” Alec said under his breath as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “How did such a perfectly normal night become such a mess?”
“I believe that was when I told ye that ye’re worth more than ye think ye are,” she said.
“You don’t know—” he began, his voice tight and controlled.
“I ken that I want ta be alive. And ye want ta die. Or at least make yerself miserable for the rest of yer days.”
“That’s not true,” he interjected.
She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “I haven’t even been kissed.” She looked up at his face, searching for an expression of bemusement. But what she saw there surprised her.
“Never?” he asked.
“Never,” she repeated.
“Then I think we should remedy that right now,” he said.
Before she could even gasp, one arm slid around her waist and he tipped her chin up with his crooked index finger.
“You deserve one good kiss.”
She could barely croak out her next words. “And ye think ye’re the one to give it ta me?”
Before she could even move, his head dipped toward hers.