“I wasn’t imagining things! There was a woman in that water. A body!” Dare she tell him she thought it was the Dowager Lady Brockwell, or would he think her insane, or worse, guilty?
“Don’t be ridiculous. The stress of the current events is making you see things that aren’t there.”
Her anger flared to life. She was tired of people telling her what to do, what to think. “Yes, just as I saw things that night in my cell?”
He didn’t respond, but started toward the path visible through the woods. She didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t denied anything either.
“Mr. Bellamont,” she called out, tripping after him. He didn’t slow. Catching up to his long strides, she clasped onto his arm. Apparently her mistake had been in touching him. He spun around, his eyes flashing green. For the briefest of moments, she swore they glowed!
“What, Meg? What do you want from me?” He backed her up until her shoulder blades pressed against a fir tree.
Her fingers curled into the rough bark. She wanted to flee, but she wouldn’t cower. There were too many questions she needed answered. “Merely the truth. Merely for you, for once in your blasted life, to believe me.”
For one long moment he merely stood there, water trailing down his face as thunder rumbled in the distance. And for a moment she wondered if he was something unworldly. A water God who could control the elements with his mood.
Hell, maybe he was right. Maybe she had imagined the Dowager. She wouldn’t be surprised. She’d had so little sleep the past few days. But there was one thing she wasn’t wrong about, and that was the fact that Grayson was hiding something.
“What are you?” she whispered.
“Just a man, of course,” he said just as softly, his voice overly controlled. “Don’t you believe me?”
Beads of water coursed down the hard planes of his face, dripping onto the collar of his white shirt. He stepped closer to her. “A man who could have you here if I wanted to. Do you not think I would have taken you in that music room, right there on the piano?”
An ache formed in her gut, swirling lower and ever lower until it spread to that wicked place between her thighs. “I wouldn’t have let you.” She tilted her chin stubbornly, hoping to give more credence to her words.
His gaze flashed with a wry, hard amusement. “Really? You think you can control yourself? Your emotions. Do you think you can control me?” He braced his hands on either side of her head. Meg sucked in a breath, squeezing back until the bark bit painfully through her dress. She dared to raise her gaze until she looked directly into those eyes.
“Of course I can control myself. The question is, can you, Mr. Bellmont?” She knew what would happen for she had practically dared him to kiss her. So why had she said the words?
And then he stepped closer, so close, every inch of his hard body pressed into hers. Meg’s heart skipped a beat before bursting into a wild gallop. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
“You think I cannot control myself around you?”
“I didn’t say—”
“Oh, but I think you did.” His hands moved into her hair and he painfully wrapped the wet strands around his fingers.
Without pause, he jerked her head back and crushed his mouth to hers. His lips were hard, demanding. Meg whimpered, stiff under his touch. She knew he wouldn’t release her without proving his point. As frightened as she was, she couldn’t deny the ache that pulsed between her legs, an ache that grew as he thrust his tongue between her lips.
With a groan, she slipped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth. The game had quickly gotten out of hand and she no longer cared who won. Boldly, she rubbed her tongue against his. Grayson growled low in his throat, his thigh wedging between her legs.
A sudden flash of lightning lit the sky, immediately followed by a boom of thunder that vibrated her very being. Grayson jerked away from her, his breathing harsh. She didn’t want him to leave her. Becoming the seductress, she arched her back, pressing her breasts to his chest. It worked.
Grayson lowered his head, pressing a soft kiss to her throat. “We should find shelter.”
“What are you?” she whispered, ignoring his words and sliding her fingers through the wet strands of his hair.
“Demon, monster.” He lifted his head, his eyes glowing an eerie green. “Which do you prefer?”
The words should have frightened her, but for some reason, coming from his lips, they didn’t. A gust of wind swept through the trees, producing a howl that resembled the cry of a wolf. Certainly more frightening than the man before her.
“You’re not a monster,” she whispered. “I don’t believe that.”
He smiled, a wicked grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“You’ve never hurt me, and you could.”
He cupped the sides of her face. “If you only knew what I really wanted to do to you.”
The words sent a heated shiver through her body. Before she could respond, the sky opened and rain poured from the clouds, piercing the fir branches above. His gaze dropped to her lips, his hard thighs pressed to hers. He seemed completely unconcerned with the fact that rain was soaking them further. “How I want to kiss you.”
That wasn’t so horrible.
He drew his fingers down her neck, over the tops of her breast. “How I want to tear that dress from your body.”
Wicked, but not evil.
He pressed his face against her collarbone, nuzzling her neck. “How I want to taste you.”
She didn’t understand what he meant, but the words sent a shiver down her body all the same. With a sigh, Meg allowed her head to lull back. The chill rain was barely noticeable as it pattered against her face.
“Do you know how wonderful you smell?” His tongue slid down her neck. “Merde, how I want you.”
He lifted his head, those glowing green eyes on her. His lips lifted into a snarl that set her body shivering. Long, pointed canines, white as the first snow, glistened wickedly. Need and fear mingled together.
“Go,” he whispered, stepping back. “Before you find out what I’m truly capable of.”
Meg didn’t hesitate. With a whimper, she pushed away from the tree and raced down the path. Her mind warned her to run, her heart begged her to turn back. Up the front stoop she stumbled. She didn’t pause until she was safely inside the foyer of the cabin.
Outside lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating the room with flashes of white light. Her mind was numb, her body aching with a need she didn’t understand. And all she could do was stand there, dripping water onto the floor.
Rain pelted the windows and the wind rattled the glass, like a madman desperate to break in. She took in a deep breath and spun around. Grayson wasn’t there. Meg raced to the open door. He wasn’t outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Vanished, as if a dream.
************************************************
She whimpered in her sleep. A soft mewing sound that spoke of nightmares. A sound that pulled at his heart and made him want to take her into his arms and offer her comfort. He closed his eyes and stretched his legs out on the hard, wooden floor. What nightmares plagued her dreams? Guilt? Regret? She didn’t look so stubborn curled up on the rug and wrapped in a blanket on her makeshift bed.
How he wished he could read her mind, know for certain what her feelings were. And what would he do if he uncovered her secrets? Mon dieu, perhaps he didn’t want to know. His attention traveled toward the fireplace where her dress hung on a screen. What was she wearing under that blanket? Corset and shift? Or dare he imagine there was less? His gaze jumped to Meg as heat flooded his body straight to his cock.
She hadn’t stirred when he’d returned, driven inside to make sure she was well, certainly not because he feared getting sick from the rain. He’d found the Dowager’s body easily enough. No bite marks on the neck of the old woman, but it didn’t matter, once word of her death reached town, there would be
an uproar and Meg would be at the center. She probably already was. Then again, perhaps no one would find the woman and she’d be left in her watery grave for eternity.
Any other bloodsucker would have left, abandoned this human to her own fate. Yet, the moment he’d seen Meg in that creek bathing, something had changed inside of him. Something he didn’t want to contemplate, yet couldn’t resist. With a sigh, he drew up his legs, resting his elbows on his knees. Merde, he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He’d come here to find his niece, not become involved with a woman. A human female he didn’t trust in the least, and who didn’t trust him.
It drove him to the brink of madness, knowing she would not tell him the truth about Lady Brockwell. He’d had hundreds of men under his command, not once did they question his authority. His gaze slipped to the windows to see the beginning of gray dawn creep through the curtains. The day would be filled with light and sunshine. He needed to return home soon before he was caught under the heat.
A lump of coal fell, skidding across the hearth. At the sound, Meg shifted, drawing her legs closer and whimpering once more. He couldn’t warm her. As much as he wanted to. He hadn’t fed in days. His body was as cold as the chill wind that banged against the shutters.
He’d never known any woman to be so stubborn, not even Millie. He drew his knuckles across his jaw line, studying her closely. He could admit, if only to himself, that he admired her tenacity, her strength. He knew few women who would hold up as well as she had given her circumstances. And blast, it wasn’t just her strength that appealed to him. It was her innocence, her purity, her belief even in the face of ultimate devastation.
He wanted her. He wanted a normal life with Meg. Yet, hadn’t his sister tried to have a family? Emma had married a human, had a child. In the end, she’d died, been murdered because of what she was and her daughter and husband suffered for it.
He jumped easily to his feet. Thousands of miles and years of travel on boat, horse and carriage…he should be old and crippled. Yet here he was, in his prime. Not that he’d live forever. No, even blood suckers eventually succumbed to time and age. But he had many, many years left. Years that would seem empty without Meg. Merde, he didn’t even want to think about the future. A future in which Meg and her family would be buried and dead.
He knelt beside her, Meg’s scent irresistible. Her blood so fresh, so pure, so young he could smell it across the room. Her locks had dried into soft curls that cascaded down her back, flowing across the blanket like a river of mahogany.
His hand hovered over the strands, his body trembling as he resisted the urge to touch her, to lose himself in her purity. As if she sensed him, her lips parted on a sigh. A sigh that called to him. A temptation he could no longer deny. He slipped his fingers into her cool, satiny hair. She didn’t wake, but turned her face toward his touch, as if needing him as much as he needed her.
Heated passion… need … desire… flared through his body. He twisted the curls, entwining the strands around his hands to bind her to him. Unable to hold back, Grayson stretched his body out beside her. Not even a saint could keep his thoughts pure when near Meg. His own blood pulsed, flaring to life under his skin, demanding he feed.
“Trust me, Meg,” he whispered in her ear.
She frowned, her brows drawing together as if even in sleep she questioned him. Good girl, she should question his behavior for his desire was nothing but wicked. He trailed his fingers down the side of her neck and she sighed, a long, breathy sound that made his insides tremble. The beast within was crawling to the surface.
But it was her pulse beating a slow and steady rhythm in the side of her neck that sang to him. Sudden desire coursed through his body, a desire he could barely control. His hunger had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn’t fed in weeks. He wanted Meg, wanted to feel again, to give himself completely. Merde, he feared what she could do to him if he allowed his heart to open. But mostly, he feared what he would do to her.
Unable to resist, he trailed his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm, pulling her blanket further…further. Her shift was still damp and he wondered if he should remove the offending garment. She was chilled, and he would only make her more so. Worry transcended to desire as he imagined undressing her, inch by inch.
As if even in an unconscious state, wanting to torture him, she cuddled closer and his desire burst anew. Grayson was gone, replaced with a desire so fierce, he no longer had control.
“Meg,” he whispered near her ear.
She mumbled incoherently and rested the side of her face against his chest.
Leaning closer, he pressed his lips to her silky hair. She smelled of apple blossoms and rain. “Meg. It’s morning.” He would wake her; give her one chance to flee and stop this nonsense.
Slowly, her lashes lifted, revealing blue eyes as hazy as the mist coming off the marsh. “Grayson?” her voice was a soft caress that pulled him under like a siren’s call.
With his fingertip, he traced her full lips, then down her slender neck. Meg shivered, and closed her eyes, waiting to be tasted like a seductive plate of chocolates. Hunger swept through him and settled deep within his gut. He knew he had to stop, knew he had to walk away from her before it was too late. Unless… just one kiss…one mere taste…
“Please,” she whispered, her lashes fluttering up. “You’re so cold.”
“You can’t warm me, not the way you want.”
“I can, please.”
For a moment he wondered if perhaps she wasn’t as innocent as he assumed. That thought fled, replaced with a lust that pulsed hungrily through his body. His cock hardened, surging with life. With a growl low in his throat, he pressed her onto her back, his body holding her still. Just one little kiss. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and any sleep fled from her gaze. Need and desire mixed in a lethal combination. He had to have her.
“Grayson,” she murmured. “Tell me how to warm you.”
She lifted her hips, pressing her pelvis to his hard erection. Merde, he couldn’t hold back. He could sense her desire, smell her need. With a whimper, she clutched his shirt and drew herself up, pressing her soft breasts to his chest, pressing her soft mouth to his. It was all he needed. She tasted sweeter than he’d remembered and he wanted to consume her completely.
She moaned low in her throat, her fingers slipping intimately into the hair at the base of his neck. His lips pressed to hers once more, harder this time. He had thought merely to satisfy his lust with a kiss, but knew a touch of her lips would never be enough. He wanted to delve into her silky warmth, to make her his. To drink from her.
His composure cracked. Need coursed through his veins, begging for relief. Her curves were like heaven, cushioning his body with heated bliss. But he wanted more, needed more. For a brief moment, he pulled back. Her warm, harsh breathed fanned across his neck. A flush of pink had settled on her high cheekbones. A strange sense of pleasure invaded his mind as he realized that this time the color on her face was not from embarrassment, but from arousal.
He leaned down, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth. With a gasp, her lips parted. He made quick work of plundering her warmth, taking his time to stroke the inside of her mouth with his tongue.
Her arms tightened around his neck and she met him kiss for kiss. Her eagerness only fanned the flames. With a growl low in his throat, he twisted her hair in his hands. A soft jerk, and her neck was exposed. He slid his tongue down the slender column, tasting her skin. He knew he was close to losing control, but couldn’t stop.
Using his empty hand, he flicked open her corset buttons. The pink roses embroidered along the edge gave him pause. He hadn’t expected such innocence, such personality. The bit of femininity made him all the harder. Slowly, his fingers moved up to her breasts, cupping the soft mounds that spilled over the edge of her corset. He was mad. He knew that, yet could not stop the beat of his heart, could not stop the call of his soul, could not stop his need for her.
Takin
g her lower lip between her teeth, Meg wriggled beneath him as if trying to get closer. Merde, he’d comply.
His mouth went to her delicate collarbone, tasting her sweet skin. “Dear God, you taste wonderful.”
He wanted to rip the corset from her body and curse women’s confining fashion. He wanted to make her his. He pressed his lips to the tops of her breasts, his tongue darting out to slip across the satiny skin. Meg gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. He jerked the material of her corset down just enough to expose a rose colored nipple. Before she could protest, his mouth covered the bud. With each flick of his tongue, she cried out. And with each cry, his arousal pulsed, pressing tightly against his trousers until he thought he could bear it no longer.
Meg squirmed under his touch, arching her back for more. A tremor of need coursed through his body, vibrating in his very soul. With a groan, he pulled away from her breast and moved back to her mouth. His lips pressed hungrily to hers as his knee wedged between her thighs, spreading her legs as much as her skirt would allow.
Exposed and waiting for him, he pressed his body into hers, his arousal hard against the junction of her thighs. He felt her tremble, and the ache in his groin intensified. She wanted him, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself.
His hand moved to her knee, dragging her skirt up her legs. Her lips parted on a gasp and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Her gasp turned into a groan, and her hands moved down his back, her nails biting through his linen shirt.
Like a true expert, she lifted her hips, rocking her body against his arousal. Only another wiggle, another touch and he’d lose control. Even though he knew he had to stop, he couldn’t seem to move away from the tempting offer of her body. He wasn’t ready to give her up completely just yet.
With a groan, he tore his mouth from hers, her warm, harsh breath fanning his face. He stared into her eyes, looking for something… need, want, knowledge of what was about to happen. She looked confused, as if she hadn’t expected her body to react so. Like a frightened little sparrow, her heart beat against his chest.