for?
“MacQuarrie?” she echoed, hoping her voice hadn’t cracked on Alec’s name.
A grin quirked on Radbourne’s face and he glanced down, only briefly, to catch her gaze. He was a striking man with those dark amber eyes and that strong chin. Why wasn’t she swooning just from being in his company? From being held so closely to him and inhaling his woodsy scent?
From feeling his warmth penetrate through her pelisse and the gown that was hiked up to her knees to sit astride his horse? Lord Radbourne was the embodiment of what she’d dreamt about since she met her first Lycan. With only the bat of her eyes, she could try to enchant him as he’d suggested, yet she didn’t feel the urge to do so. Not now, at any rate.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what you just did to him.”
Pretend? She didn’t have a clue. What had she done?
What had Radbourne seen? “I assure ye, sir, I doona ken what ye’re talkin’ about. Perhaps ye’ve imbibed too much this evenin’. My brother has a habit of doin’ that himself.”
Radbourne chuckled. “I assure you, Sorcha, I never get foxed. High tolerance for spirits,” he explained. “My, you are a little minx, aren’t you?”
“I doona think I am.” And she didn’t. No one had ever said so before. Weren’t minxes akin to sirens or such things? She was just… Sorcha.
“Well, I am certain of it.” The viscount frowned as they passed through the gates of Castle Hythe and the pebbled path crunched beneath the horse’s hooves. “I know you think you know that creature back there, but I assure you he isn’t the man you once knew. It would be best if you kept your distance from MacQuarrie—and all other vampyres, for that matter. A little thing like you would merely be a between-meal snack for his kind.”
A snack for Alec? A giggle escaped her throat. “He would never hurt me.” At least she didn’t think he would. Of course, an hour ago she wouldn’t have thought he would have kissed her, either. However, she had started those dealings hadn’t she? Yet, he had kissed her in return.
“I’m serious, sweetheart. I’d rather not have to explain the evening’s events to Eynsford. You know how hearing MacQuarrie’s name can set him off like nothing else. So, please promise me you’ll stay away from the bloodsucker. I’d rather keep my head on my shoulders where it belongs.”
Havers! Eynsford. Sorcha somehow managed not to groan. Caitrin, the seer, would already know everything.
There was never a way to hide anything from her. But would she have confided all to her husband? If Cait thought getting her wolfish husband involved was in Sorcha’s best interest, she would have. “It’s probably too late for that.”
“For keeping my head on my shoulders?” Radbourne’s voice raised an octave. “I do hope not. I rather like it where it is.”
She certainly couldn’t explain what she’d meant by that.
None of Eynsford’s half brothers knew about Cait’s powers of second sight or about the coven. “Of course ye do. It’s a very handsome head. I’d hate for ye ta lose it as well.”
The viscount dipped his very handsome head closer to hers and whispered, “Did you notice my brother’s face? Weston, I mean. The scar across his cheek?”
How could she miss it? The line stretched from his ear to his mouth. It was a most notable disfigurement, though it made him appear dangerous and dashing at the same time. She nodded.
“One of MacQuarrie’s kind did that to him. With only her fingernail. And we can heal from anything. Imagine what could happen to a sweet thing like yourself, Sorcha. Vampyres are not to be trifled with.”
“But Lord Blodswell and Lord Kettering,” she began as they reached the stables. “They became human once more.”
“Anomalies, sweetheart. Blodswell was just as surprised by his transformation as anyone else. No one, not even a vampyre, has ever heard of such things before. It wouldn’t do for you to pin your
“MacQuarrie?” she echoed, hoping her voice hadn’t cracked on Alec’s name.
A grin quirked on Radbourne’s face and he glanced down, only briefly, to catch her gaze. He was a striking man with those dark amber eyes and that strong chin. Why wasn’t she swooning just from being in his company? From being held so closely to him and inhaling his woodsy scent?
From feeling his warmth penetrate through her pelisse and the gown that was hiked up to her knees to sit astride his horse? Lord Radbourne was the embodiment of what she’d dreamt about since she met her first Lycan. With only the bat of her eyes, she could try to enchant him as he’d suggested, yet she didn’t feel the urge to do so. Not now, at any rate.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what you just did to him.”
Pretend? She didn’t have a clue. What had she done?
What had Radbourne seen? “I assure ye, sir, I doona ken what ye’re talkin’ about. Perhaps ye’ve imbibed too much this evenin’. My brother has a habit of doin’ that himself.”
Radbourne chuckled. “I assure you, Sorcha, I never get foxed. High tolerance for spirits,” he explained. “My, you are a little minx, aren’t you?”
“I doona think I am.” And she didn’t. No one had ever said so before. Weren’t minxes akin to sirens or such things? She was just… Sorcha.
“Well, I am certain of it.” The viscount frowned as they passed through the gates of Castle Hythe and the pebbled path crunched beneath the horse’s hooves. “I know you think you know that creature back there, but I assure you he isn’t the man you once knew. It would be best if you kept your distance from MacQuarrie—and all other vampyres, for that matter. A little thing like you would merely be a between-meal snack for his kind.”
A snack for Alec? A giggle escaped her throat. “He would never hurt me.” At least she didn’t think he would. Of course, an hour ago she wouldn’t have thought he would have kissed her, either. However, she had started those dealings hadn’t she? Yet, he had kissed her in return.
“I’m serious, sweetheart. I’d rather not have to explain the evening’s events to Eynsford. You know how hearing MacQuarrie’s name can set him off like nothing else. So, please promise me you’ll stay away from the bloodsucker. I’d rather keep my head on my shoulders where it belongs.”
Havers! Eynsford. Sorcha somehow managed not to groan. Caitrin, the seer, would already know everything.
There was never a way to hide anything from her. But would she have confided all to her husband? If Cait thought getting her wolfish husband involved was in Sorcha’s best interest, she would have. “It’s probably too late for that.”
“For keeping my head on my shoulders?” Radbourne’s voice raised an octave. “I do hope not. I rather like it where it is.”
She certainly couldn’t explain what she’d meant by that.
None of Eynsford’s half brothers knew about Cait’s powers of second sight or about the coven. “Of course ye do. It’s a very handsome head. I’d hate for ye ta lose it as well.”
The viscount dipped his very handsome head closer to hers and whispered, “Did you notice my brother’s face? Weston, I mean. The scar across his cheek?”
How could she miss it? The line stretched from his ear to his mouth. It was a most notable disfigurement, though it made him appear dangerous and dashing at the same time. She nodded.
“One of MacQuarrie’s kind did that to him. With only her fingernail. And we can heal from anything. Imagine what could happen to a sweet thing like yourself, Sorcha. Vampyres are not to be trifled with.”
“But Lord Blodswell and Lord Kettering,” she began as they reached the stables. “They became human once more.”
“Anomalies, sweetheart. Blodswell was just as surprised by his transformation as anyone else. No one, not even a vampyre, has ever heard of such things before. It wouldn’t do for you to pin your
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