Bitten By the Earl (Lords of the Night Book Two) Page 5

  When Lords Mountgarret and Coventry finally joined him, he was halfway through his second glass of brandy, with the bottle close by.

  The earl glanced at him as he sat down at the table. Speculation roiled in his emerald eyes. Then he trained his attention on the viscount. “That was rather an interesting and abrupt end to your affair, Valentine.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that,” Mountgarret groused and his eyes flared a startling turquoise in his ire. Iridescent blue scales at his throat, just over his cravat, shimmered. A trace of an Irish accent came forth in his tone, and only did when he was under high emotion, for he downplayed that part of his heritage.

  Rafe glanced at his friend. “I assume Bow Street has finished?”

  “Oh, yes. The coroner came and removed the body shortly after, and everyone wrapped up their investigation with alacrity, even if it was strange.” He heaved a sigh. “As if I need any more time in the gossip sheets.” He waved a hand and seconds later, a waiter deposited a bottle of whiskey as well as a glass, in front of him.

  Coventry nodded his thanks when another waiter brought him a glass of deep red port. “It will only add to the mystique, old boy.”

  The viscount snorted as he poured out a measure of liquor into his glass. “More like it solidifies my decision to remove to my country estate or perhaps take to my ship. Might as well do it now before the weather worsens.”

  Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You will let a little matter such as this drive you from Town at Christmastide?”

  “Honestly, I miss the sea. I miss becoming my beast and having the freedom being in the water affords me.” He drained the contents of his glass in one gulp and then winced as he swallowed. “Perhaps if I take myself out of circulation, my nieces will have a better time of it and the gossip will die sooner rather than later. I think, perhaps my sister regrets what I am, even if she says nothing.”

  “Sisters are interesting beings.” Coventry nodded. “Did you notice anything suspicious during the evening?”

  “No.” The viscount shook his head. He laid his empty glass on the tabletop and then drummed his fingers on the highly polished cherry wood. “In fact, things were going astonishingly well, I thought, until the murder.”

  Both of them looked at Rafe, and the weight of their gazes pushed on his chest.

  He sighed. “Go ahead and say what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes.” He thought his friends would have at least given him the benefit of the doubt.

  Coventry once more rested his emerald gaze upon him. “Since you brought it up, I’ll ask. Did you kill that maid?”

  “No, of course not,” Rafe responded with irritation threading through his voice. “That is not my style, and the both of you know it.”

  Agreement flickered in Mountgarret’s expression. “True enough, but we had to question you.” He poured out another measure of whiskey while the earl took a sip of his port. “If that bite on her neck wasn’t from you, then who?” He lowered his voice. “Is it even possible there are others like you—like us—in London and we don’t know about them?”

  Rafe shrugged. “I suppose anything is possible. But if they’re not cursed, they’d have to be created that way from birth. Interesting thought.” A tingle of excitement ran down his spine. The suggestion tugged at a world of new opportunity. “Though, if there is another vampire out there, why haven’t they made themselves known to me?”

  “A myriad of reasons, no doubt.” The viscount shrugged. “If they are not a part of the upper ten thousand, you and them wouldn’t move in the same circles.”

  “Correct, for I do not feed on the streets.” Interesting, still.

  Coventry leaned forward. “Yet, if what Devon says is true, there is another vampire in London, and he or she was at your party, Mountgarret. What’s more, they fed and killed there.” His eyes blazed. “We could indeed have bigger problems.”

  A ripple of awareness moved over Rafe’s skin. “Perhaps they will come forward soon, yet on the other hand, what I said is true. I did not kill that maid, and if this person—being—did, there’s a murderer out there. Abnormal or not, they must answer for their crime.” Before the authorities come looking for me.

  Both men agreed with nods.

  Silence reigned between them for long moments, then Valentine asked, “For the sake of keeping our sanity, let us drop the subject for now. We can speculate all we want, but without more facts, we have nothing.” As the men nodded, he continued and looked at Rafe. “Did you at least get your rocks off before you killed?” A trace of a grin flirted with his lips.

  “Once again, I did nothing at Valentine’s rout except talk to… a female,” he said, at the last second withholding Elizabeth’s name. “And only talked.”

  His friends hooted with laughter.

  The viscount nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. “Did you take her to a shadowy alcove and have your way with her? You know, if it wasn’t the maid, after all?”

  Hot annoyance coursed through Rafe’s veins. His gums throbbed as his emotion heightened. It was a deuced uncomfortable way to go through life. Any wild swing in how he felt activated the need to sink his teeth, his claws, into someone, not necessarily to feed, but to hurt. “How many times do I need to deny it?” He sucked at the saliva pooling in his mouth.

  Coventry snorted. “Put the fangs away, friend.” He dropped a hand onto Rafe’s shoulder and squeezed. “How often are we allowed to tease one of our own?” When Rafe did nothing except scowl, the earl chuckled. “Tell us about this female of yours. Is she a lady?”

  “She’s not mine.” Rafe took refuge in his brandy, which he took a large gulp of and gasped at the sting of the liquor on his throat. “But yes, she is a lady.” There was none her equal.

  The viscount grinned wide. Now that he was back in a jovial mood, the scales at his neck weren’t as noticeable. “Did you make an appearance specifically to see her? I never once caught sight of you, and I did assume you wished to add to my numbers.”

  I need better friends. Yet these men were the best of them all. They were like the brothers he never had. “In all honesty, I arrived to do the pretty and give you my support.”

  “Then where were you?” Valentine pressed, his hand curled loosely about his glass.

  “I’d meant to greet you.” Heat crept up the back of his neck. “I was distracted by someone.”

  “Who? The lady?” Coventry asked with interest blazing in his eyes. He exchanged a glance with the viscount. “Curious, no?”

  No matter that Rafe glowered, his friends looked on in expectation. Finally, he sighed. “Manchester’s sister.”

  The earl rolled his eyes. “Not this again. Are you daft?”

  “I am, in fact, in possession of all my faculties,” he protested. It was dangerous that his friends knew of his obsession with Elizabeth. “However, I cannot explain it. There is a certain pull between us I cannot ignore. I felt it more acutely upon my return to London.”

  “You realize the duke will kill you,” Valentine said in a cheerful voice as he refilled his glass. “He’ll ram a stake right through your heart for daring to assume Lady Elizabeth would even look at you in such a manner, and you attempting to curry her favor without his blessing.”

  The heat of guilt snaked through his chest. “We share a history Manchester isn’t aware of. It makes things both difficult and comforting.”

  “Interesting,” Coventry drawled out and leaned back in his leather chair. “Do tell.”

  “I’d rather not.” In fact, he’d never told anyone about what happened between him and Elizabeth, and he’d wager everything in his coffers she hadn’t either.

  “Even more curious, but we will have the story eventually,” the viscount said with a grin as he exchanged a glance with the earl. “The last full moon of this year comes due in a couple of weeks. Since Coventry and I are not involved, you, my friend, have a chance at breaking the curse where we do not.” A trace of bitterness flickered over his expression
, gone in an instant.

  “Not this gammon.” Rafe tapped a fingernail against the side of his glass. “Elizabeth and I are not a couple, let alone feel anything remotely close to love for each other.” An ache developed deep in his chest. And that will never occur.

  “Don’t affect that attitude, Devon,” the viscount continued with amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re always two sheets to the wind over her. That’s no secret to us. What is keeping you from launching a seduction? There’s more than enough time, and you’ve already admitted to feeling something for her again.”

  The earl nodded. “Yes. It worked well enough for Manchester.”

  Rafe snorted. “He is still the beast as far as we know.”

  “Details.” Coventry waved a hand. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  Unless he did, the men wouldn’t leave him in peace. Damn them all. Rafe took up his glass, forgot it was empty and slammed it back down on the tabletop. Lingering amber droplets flew out to mark the tabletop. “She hates me.” The remembered look of disgust and fear in her gaze haunted him. “Though we’ve been civil since Manchester’s nuptials, I am afraid we cannot repair this.”

  “This being what, exactly?” the earl asked in a soft voice. He took a sip of his port, his startling eyes piercing through Rafe. When the man was in his dragon form, those eyes were no less potent.

  He swallowed hard. Oh, God. Time to share. “Eleven years ago, I’d fallen for her, saw her off and on while Manchester was out of pocket, lost to his wolf. She and I came together in a rather violent fashion, and I…”

  “You took her blood and her innocence,” Valentine finished for him. There was no condemnation in his expression, only understanding.

  All Rafe could do was nod as guilt squeezed at his chest with tight bands. “She was more than willing during parts of that night. And what’s more, she remembers when I fed from her. I’m not certain how that is possible. When I enthrall a female, the memories of what we did vanish.”

  The men exchanged glances before they both looked at him again.

  “It seems the plot thickens,” Coventry said quietly. “And here we are.”

  “Yes.” The word was yanked from Rafe’s tight throat. Another swath of guilt squeezed at him. He’d failed his title. He’d ruined Lizzy’s life and future. “When Donovan discovers this, you’re right. I’m as good as dead.” Best friend or no, he would have to answer to the duke.

  Valentine punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t tell him.”

  “Indeed,” the earl added. “Work on the romance instead.”

  “You might have well told me to steal the moon.” Romance aside, he had two weeks to do something if he wished to break the curse that bound him. Where women might have overlooked the duke’s ability to shift into a wolf, ladies couldn’t ignore the bite of a vampire. It was a vital necessity for him. He needed to feed. There was no coming to terms with his affliction; there was just fangs and blood and fear.

  “What could it hurt?” Valentine asked, continuing the thread of conversation. “There is nothing better than a woman with spirit, and if you already share history, there is every reason to use it as a stepping stone.”

  Rafe grunted. “Oh, she has spirit, indeed.” Even now, remembering her anger had his gums tingling. “Her words, her accusations, rankled and taunted my beast.”

  “Then, she’s a challenge.” Coventry lifted his glass. “To the chase. May you have all the luck you wish for.”

  “Here, here,” the viscount said and lifted his own glass.

  “I hope when your time comes, the two of you find as much angst as Donovan and I have,” Rafe said, but he lifted his snifter and touched it to theirs. “You’d best pray the lady in question softens toward me, or at the very least wishes to understand what I am.”

  “Absolutely, else you’ll go about half-cocked, as it were.” Valentine nodded with a wink. “On the other hand, there are easier marks than Lady Elizabeth. You’re charming enough, Rogue. You could certainly court one intensely and make her fall.”

  “That’s the trouble,” Rafe said as he poured another measure of brandy into his glass. “I don’t desire an easy target, er courtship rather, and I most certainly do not desire any other woman. For whatever reason, I feel we’re fated to come together again.” He wouldn’t give Elizabeth up, especially not to the marquess, that shining paragon of virtue. “Things might move into more terrible territory before they grow anything remotely close to love.”

  Coventry snorted. “Especially if she’s drawn Rockingham’s notice.”

  “Don’t remind me,” he muttered.

  “That’s how matters of the heart go, I’m afraid, old chap,” Valentine responded with a laugh, and he once more raised his glass. “To love, and the relentless pursuit therein, no matter how many obstacles block the path.”

  The men toasted and then drank. There were worse things than such a noble chase.

  Things that didn’t have the potential to tear a man asunder.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  December 4, 1815

  Elizabeth’s heart pounded so hard she feared it might burst from her chest as a faint tapping sounded upon the window glass in her bedchamber. Just as she moved across the floor to investigate, the panels of the balcony door swung inward with a slight creak and the silhouette of a man stood inside her room, illuminated by the full moon.

  Then he advanced upon her, and she peered into his face.

  “Rafe?” For it could only be him, the same aristocratic features, the same dirty blond hair that flowed about his shoulders instead of tied back as he usually wore it, the same hazel eyes with the faint red ring around the irises. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hunting you.” The deep timber of his voice echoed through the room and resonated in her chest. “I want you, Lizzy. I’ve never stopped,” he whispered and he continued his forward movement.

  She had no recourse but to retreat before him. As she passed the window and the crisp winter air blew into the room, she shivered, for her silken night attire didn’t provide adequate protection against the chill. “I told you why we cannot be together again,” she responded and continued her flight until her back collided with the wall and shadows hid her from the moon.

  Would that they would conceal her presence from him.

  “I don’t accept that, for there is an undeniable spark between us.” He arched an eyebrow and when he smiled, his fangs flashed. “The desire has never faded. Surely you feel it too. And what is more, you remember…”

  Drat the man. Yes, yes of course she still felt it. That longing, that emptiness only he could fill was always there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting. Nothing she had tried could banish it. “Yes.” It was the only thing she could utter, and even then the words were pulled from her tight throat.

  “Good. At least we have that in common.” As his smile widened, more of his fangs came into view. And then he closed the remainder of the distance between them, trapping her between the wall and the hardness of his chest. “I’ve missed you.”

  A host of tingles erupted over her skin as he cupped her cheek and leaned into her, their lips almost touching. She peered up into his face as those hazel depths darkened, offset by the bright red ring. The warmth of his breath skated over her cheek. No doubt he saw the feelings all over her face. “I’ve missed you as well.” It was the truth, even if she’d hid it from herself. “Whatever else you are, I have missed your friendship, having you about the house, hearing your voice.”

  He chuckled, and the low sound sent flutters scurrying through her lower belly. His cinnamon and cedarwood scent wafted around her, and had her pulse soaring. How well she remembered the scent of him on her sheets well after he’d left her on that long-ago night. “Is friendship the only thing you miss, Lizzy?”

  It was the second time he used his special nickname for her; no one else dared call her that. Years ago he’d given her the shortened name, and there was always so much affection behi
nd it that her heart squeezed. Tremors played her spine. Her knees wobbled so badly she gripped his lapels to remain upright. “No.” Oh, she wanted him, to feel his strong body pressed against hers, to know his touch once more.

  “Me either.” Rafe moved with the fluid grace and speed quintessentially his own. He embraced her, and for a few seconds, Elizabeth fought against his hold, for she knew what would come next, and she both dreaded it and craved it. But the moment his lips touched hers, she whimpered and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. She kissed him back with all the desperate desire she’d carried for him over the years, and long, drugging kisses threatened to pull her beneath his heated tide.

  He whispered her name, embedded it within endearments while he pressed feather-weighted kisses to her closed eyelids, her cheeks, her forehead, the corners of her mouth. When he trailed his lips along the side of her neck, the sharp points of his fangs pricked her skin.

  Terror surged through her veins and her mind screamed a warning. No matter her feelings for Rafe, he was a vampire, and even if he wanted her body, he lusted after her blood more. He always would. Pain would come with that bite, and the very act of his feeding, of feeling her blood leave her body, made her want to vomit. She murmured a protest, planted her palms against his chest in an effort to push him away. “I don’t want you in this way.”

  “It’s all part and parcel of who I am.” Then he stared into her eyes, held her gaze, and the red ring flared so bright she couldn’t look away. She fell into those hazel depths, now more green than brown, and the longer she remained connected to him, the deeper she tumbled into a dreamlike state where she couldn’t even remember her own name.

  “No…” But her whisper went unheeded as he continued his enthrallment, for Rafe dropped a kiss to her lips. Then he moved his mouth to her neck once more, and seconds later, the stinging pain of his bite lanced through her being. As her lifeblood drained away, her body was flooded with intense euphoria, and the feeling of sexual repletion throbbed between her thighs. She clung to him, sagged in his strong arms as he fed, wished things were different between them, and the world slipped away as another wave of release claimed her.