Her Devoted Vampire (4 page)

She stared at him blankly. He
looked familiar. Where had she seen him?

“Bridget! Tell me you’re all
right!”

“Uh—”

He slammed her into his embrace,
squashing the stuffing out of her.

“Good Goddess, what happened to
your shawl?” He released her and picked up the bloody garment. “There’s blood
here.” He swung his gaze back to her, scanning her body for injury. “Are you
hurt? Is this your blood?”

His words rumbled with a subtle
 
Scottish burr that made her heart flutter and
warmed her from the inside out.
 
A
mixture of apple spice cake and vanilla filled her nose and sparked a memory of
a blustery
Boston
street. When had she been outside?

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

The
intensity of the pain had faded, but tension in her ribs warned her not to make
any sudden moves.

He
dropped the shawl and gathered back into his arms, squeezing gently. Bridget
sighed and closed her eyes, quite content to be pressed against his warm,
delicious chest.

“So, you’re not hurt?” He pushed
her back and stared at her intently with his chocolate brown eyes.

Those eyes.

“Bridget?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. I’m a little
shaken up, but I’m okay. Really.”

“I’m so sorry I was late. I had
some last minute issues come up with one of the shops,” he said as he stood and
offered her a hand up. “I had to renegotiate the deal on the coffee from that
Californian farm, and they insisted they hadn’t used pesticides; but my
investigation said different. It was a mess.”

Coffee?

“It’s okay. I’m fine, really. I
just need to get my bearings.”

Bridget swung her gaze to the ornate
grandfather clock at the end of the counter and felt bone-deep sorrow at the
time on its face. Tonight had been her debut, and now they were at least an
hour late. It might not be
New York
,
but the Boston Elder Society didn’t wait for anyone.

Hang on,
 
debut?
Boston
Elder Society? Is
that where I know Fredrick from?

She shook her head and rubbed her
cheeks with her hands. None of this made any sense. She’d never been part of
any high society in
Boston
.

“You’re
not fine.” The man wrapped an arm around her waist. “Here now, let’s get you
into a chair, and I’ll get you a cup of something warm. Tea or coffee?”

“I have no idea what’s going on.”

She tried to pull away, still
shaking her head. Dizziness assailed her, and her legs gave out again, making
her slump against him.

“Shh, shh, it’s all right, love.
I’ve got you.”

He scooped her up in his arms,
cradling her against his warm chest and carried her over to a fluffy armchair
with burgundy upholstery. Light glinted off something on his chest, and she
fingered a silver lapel pin over his heart. It had the shape of a tree with
spreading branches and roots in a circle of silver. The design seemed familiar
to her as if she’d seen it somewhere before, but the memory refused to focus.

One thing was very clear: she
liked to be in Fredrick’s arms. She liked it a lot.

She didn’t want him to release
her, but he set her down
 
in the soft
chair and strode swiftly
 
through the
furniture to the counter as if he owned the place. She watched his ponytail
slide across his shoulders as he prepared her hot drink, not sure if he’d
chosen coffee or tea. His hair reminded her of the Stanton-bred racehorse someone
had bequeathed to him on their deathbed for his charitable help on their
behalf.

Bridget groaned. Where were all
these memories coming from? Confusion swamped her. She lived in
Boston
and worked as a
project manager, didn’t she? How the heck would she know about high societies
or racehorses?

Her questions popped like soap
bubbles when Fredrick returned and draped his trench coat over her. The coat held
the scents of the man who’d worn it and coffee, a strangely comforting
combination.

“You looked cold, love,” he said
as he brushed her cheek with the back of one finger. “I’ll have your coffee in
a minute, and we’ll make the best of this mess.”

“Okay.”

He gave her an approving
half-smile that melted her heart and retreated to the counter where the coffee
maker percolated in happy industriousness.

Bridget pulled the coat around
her shoulders and wriggled down into the chair, grateful the pain seemed to be
gone. It had been a long and trying day, and she didn’t want to go to a fancy
coming-out party, anyway.

We can always introduce me to the Elder Society later.

Wait, introduce me for what? I’m no one special.

She rubbed her eyes with the heels
of her hands in the vain hope she could scrub reality back into place. When her
gaze refocused, she still sat with his spice-cake-scented
 
coat over her and the sounds of the coffee
brewing. The soft music played a counterpoint, and a periodic rumble of a
furnace accompanied the breeze of warm air brushing the tendrils of hair at her
neck.

How could she really be here
again? She thought she’d left Snickerdoodles to go home.
I forgot my book, didn’t I? When did I make plans to go out with
Fredrick? I don’t remember meeting him before, but it feels like I’ve known him
forever.

“Fredrick, how long have we been
together now?”

He glanced at her over his
shoulder as he poured coffee into two mugs. “What an odd question, love. We’ve
been together for six months.”

Bridget shook her head. No, no,
that couldn’t be right.
I just met him
last night, didn’t I?

“I can’t seem to remember the
first time we met.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair.

Fredrick’s hand settled on her
knee, and she cracked her eyes open. He held a cup of coffee out to her, and
she worked one hand free of the trench coat to grasp it. Heat seared her palm,
and she hissed, adding the other hand on the handle.

“Thank
you.”

“You’re
welcome, love.” He watched her drink with his head cocked to one side, a small
smile hovering over his lips.

“I’m
sorry we’re so late. I really did want to dance with you.”
What the—? Where did that come from?

“Ah,
now, see. We can dance right here if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Here?”
Bridget looked around the room and found an open space where chairs and tables
had stood just moments before.
Where did
they go?

“Right
here. Right now.” Fredrick took her cup and set it down, then peeled his jacket
away from her. He offered her his hand as he raked his gaze over her body, his
smile widening with approval.

Gathering
her courage and her strength, Bridget grasped his hand and slowly rose to her
feet. Her side gave a minor protest, but once she stood, the pain receded. The
silver lapel pin winked at her as he turned and led her to the open parquet
floor, and she tripped a little on her leucite heels.

Fredrick
pulled her into his arms, holding her steady. Bridget had the odd sensation he
protected her from more than just the floor.

“Easy now, I’ve got you. I’m
here, Bridget. I’ll always be here from now on.” He hugged her like he held
spun glass, laying a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll never leave you
unprotected again. I promise you.”

Bridget snuggled into his embrace,
reveling in the warmth and solidness of his body. She closed her eyes and
inhaled his scent. Was this a dream? Or was she really here? It felt real and
smelled real, but what about all her unclear memories?

His lips pressed against her
temple, and he squeezed her gently. “I promise to care for you forever.”

Dizziness hit her again, and she sagged
against Fredrick’s chest. Her ears rang with white noise, and Bridget fell into
it as her stomach lurched. She gritted her teeth against the urge to empty her
stomach as something jostled her body for a few moments, then stopped suddenly.
Fredrick’s comforting presence had disappeared, and she wondered where he’d
gone.

So much for protecting her.

But was she really in danger?
Memory moved like thick mud, but unease sang through the murk, warning her of
big, impending changes. What had they been?

The warning became clearer. She
concentrated on it, and her awareness sifted through the viscous sludge,
drawing closer to the source. Individual sounds separated out until she could
distinguish the spaces between the words, but not the words themselves. The
voice sounded human and male, but the tones were hysterical, as if the owner
grappled with fear.

She
immediately wanted to sooth the insistent fearful qualities and worked hard to
pull herself closer through the thick fog. Sounds intensified, and light
pierced the murk in ragged tears, demanding her attention. Bridget struggled to
reach for the light, but her body felt weighted down; and she began to sink
away from it.

Help!

She
didn’t want to fall into the darkness again. She didn’t want to be trapped
there forever, lost in the black blankness. She screamed her silent terror, and
the voice she’d heard reached deep down into her darkness and wrapped a cord of
bright light around her, dragging her back to consciousness.

“Bridget Shanahan, come back to
me. Don’t leave just yet. Hold on! I’ll help you if you just reach for me!”

“Uhnnn.” She groaned and slowly
opened her eyes.

Light speared her sight, and she
squinted until the pain receded. Details of the room around her settled into
solidity. Her eyes took in an elegantly decorated room in warm colors; a burgundy
bedspread over emerald green sheets draped around her body. One brick wall
appeared beyond the oak footboard and made a solid background to the man seated
in a chair at her bedside.

Bridget immediately recognized
the handsome man from Snickerdoodles, and her heart fluttered with excitement.
She’d danced with him, and now he sat here in her bedroom. Wait, what was he
doing in her bedroom? Her eyes snapped to the bedspread again. This
wasn’t
her bedroom!

“Where am I?” she asked as she
struggled to sit up, but aborted the effort when pain shot through her side.

“Just
rest for now. You aren’t ready yet.” His familiar voice settled some of her
uncertainty and fright.

“Why do I hurt? What’s wrong with
me?”

The pain
felt like she’d
 
been hit by a baseball
bat beneath her ribs on the left side. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t felt
this bad, even after she’d woken up on the couch in her dream. She pushed
 
her hand down to test her injury, but she
couldn’t feel anything.

“Do you remember me, Bridget? I
met you at Snickerdoodles.”

Oh, she remembered, all right.
She remembered the scent of his skin and the warmth of his body beside her. At
least, she thought she did. He’d wrapped his trench coat
 
around her, hadn’t he?

She closed her eyes and shook her
head to clear the cobwebs of mixed memories.

“I returned your book and tried
to hail a cab for you. Do you remember that?”

No. Wait. Yes, she remembered the
terrible kidnapping scene in the book and how she’d left it on the table in the
coffee shop. Her memories played out in a reel until it ended with red eyes and
searing pain.

Bridget’s eyes flew open, and she
stared at her companion with dawning unease. His expression filled with concern
and compassion, his eyes a deep chocolate brown. No sign of red anywhere. They
weren’t even bloodshot.

“You’re Fredrick MacGregor.”

“That’s right.” A smile flitted
over his lips.

“And you smell like spiced apples
and vanilla.”

His black eyebrows disappeared
into his hairline, one tendril falling across an eye. It looked soft and smooth,
and she wanted to push it behind his ear for him. His smug look banished any
tender feelings that might have developed.

“You were stabbed in the side,
and I brought you to my home here in
Gloucester
to take care of you.”

Stabbed? She’d been
stabbed
? Gasping, she wrenched the emerald
bedclothes away from her body and scanned the skin of her belly. The bruised
pain she felt directed her eyes to her left side, but there was nothing there,
not even discoloration. If she’d been stabbed, where was the scar, the scab?

Is he just teasing me? What kind of a jerk does that?
Then the rest of his words sank in.

“
Gloucester
?”

“Yes. It was the safest place I
could think to take you.”