In the Heat of the Bite (26 page)

He inhaled deeply, growled low in his throat and, in one sweeping motion, led her off the floor and out a door that exited into the garden. She stopped moving long before her head did, and she clutched the lapels of his jacket to steady herself.

“Mine for the moment,” he said softly as he brushed a lock of hair from her forehead.

“It appears that way.” Rhiannon’s thoughts were beginning to clear, thanks to the cool, crisp air in the outdoors.

“Feeling better, now?” he asked as she loosened her clutch on his clothing and stepped back.

“Much,” she replied. “Thank ye.”

“For what?”

“For bein’ who ye are,” she replied.

“And just who are you, Miss Sinclair?” he asked, appraising her closely. Rhiannon opened her mouth to speak, but a voice from behind her broke through her thoughts.

“She’s my fiancée, that’s who.”

Matthew had cursed his need to appear human when he’d seen Radbourne sweep Rhiannon out the side door into the garden. He wanted to fly across the room and jerk her from the viscount’s arms the moment the waltz had begun, but MacQuarrie’s restraining hand on his arm had stopped him. But once Radbourne had absconded with her, there was nothing Alec could do to hold him back. Matthew was across the room in a trice and out into the garden, where he saw Rhiannon in the Lycan’s embrace.

Decapitation would be too good for the wolf in gentleman’s clothes. Perhaps evisceration would be better. It would certainly bring Matthew more satisfaction.

“She is my fiancée, and I solidified that fact just earlier today. So, I would appreciate it if you could remove your hands from her person.”

“If I do that, she very well may topple over.” Radbourne sighed.

“Why on earth would she do that?” Matthew bit out. “What have you done to her?”

“It wasn’t me,” Radbourne chuckled. “The Duchess of Hythe is the responsible party. The old dragon got her foxed. I just brought her out to get some fresh air.”

“Air? Is that what you’re calling it?”

Radbourne straightened his shoulders. “When that’s what it is, yes. Air.”

“It’s no’ his fault, Matthew,” Rhiannon sighed. “He was helpin’.”

“Helping himself to your person,” Matthew grunted at her.

“If I’d wanted her person, I could have had it. I can be quite charming when I choose.”

Rhiannon smiled. “That’s true.” Then she laughed. “He can be very charmin’.” She spun to face Radbourne. “Would ye mind leavin’ us for a bit, Archer? I have some things ta discuss with Matthew.”

“I don’t think this is a good time for you to be alone with anyone,” Radbourne began.

“I was alone with ye. And I am no worse for wear.” She held her arms out to her side and spun in a slow circle, but she teetered when her dress caught on the toe of her shoe. Radbourne reached for her, but Matthew was faster. He caught her to himself and pulled her away from the Lycan.

“What have you done, lass?” he asked. “Had I not arrived, you’d be at the mercy of a pack of wolves.”

“They’re trainable.” She giggled.

“So are bears, but I wouldn’t leave you with one of those, either.”

“See here, now. There’s no need to throw stones,” Radbourne growled.

“I’ll throw the biggest stone I can find right at your thick skull,” Matthew countered.

“Stop!” Rhiannon cried. “Would ye just stop it? Both of ye?” She faced Radbourne. “Thank ye so much for takin’ care of me, but I’m feelin’ ever so much better and I have some things I need ta say ta my intended.”

“I’ll take my leave,” Radbourne clipped out. “But if you need me, just yell. I’ll hear you.”

“Of course, you would,” Matthew said caustically.

The Lycan bowed quickly to Rhiannon and took his leave.

Rhiannon reached up to touch the back of her hand to Matthew’s forehead. “Are ye well?”

“As well as can be expected, thanks to your coven sister, Lady Elspeth.”

“Ye met Elspeth?” his witch cried. “How is she?”

“She’s as big as a house and ready to deliver very soon. I met her husband, too. Nice fellow.” He took Rhiannon’s hand and led her farther into the shadows of the darkened garden so they could talk. That’s all he wanted, to talk. And maybe to hold her close to him for a moment. Just a moment. Then he’d take her back to the soiree.

“Did ye see my father?” she asked tentatively.

“I did.”

“And?” She stopped and faced him.

“And he gave his blessing for our union. He’s having the banns read. All is as it should be.”

She twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “Did he seem concerned about me?”

He hadn’t. Not a bit. Not even when Matthew suggested it. “He was quite concerned,” Matthew lied. “And he put me through an inquisition that would rival that of the Spanish if I had a desire to compare them. He wanted to know everything about me. But, in the end, he finally agreed.” He wouldn’t look her in the eye. She would see the truth if he did. She would see that her father didn’t worry about her, not at all. “And I met Miss Ferguson,” he volunteered more cheerily.

“How is Sorcha?”

“Utterly charming. There were some interesting dynamics between her and Alec.”

“Between Sorcha and
Alec
? Ye must be mistaken.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps I am.”

“Did ye feed while ye were gone?” She walked slowly toward him until she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. The gardenia scent of her washed over him, and Matthew’s incisors immediately descended. Of course, they would choose now to descend.

“No,” he admitted. He couldn’t if he’d wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He was saving that pleasure for her. For them to share.

“How long can ye go without dyin’ of thirst?” she asked as she walked deeper into the shadows of the empty garden. “Can ye wait three weeks for the banns ta be read?”

“Probably not. But I will make do.” How, he wasn’t certain. But he would.

Rhiannon hitched herself up onto a low garden wall with a short hop. Then she began to tug her gloves from her hands, finger by finger. What lovely fingers she had. “Come here,” she sighed. “I havena seen ye for days, and ye insist on stayin’ way over there,” she said as she laid her gloves on the ledge beside her and crooked a finger at him, beckoning him forward with a coquettish motion.

“Rhiannon,” he protested, but his feet moved forward of their own volition. “You are more than a little bit foxed. And I’d be the worst sort of cad if I took advantage of your inebriated state.”

“A cad?” she breathed as she parted her thighs, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and drew him to her. He all but fell on her, he was that enraptured by her. Oh, holy hell. The lady would unman him. “What if my fondest wish is ta be taken in a darkened garden by a cad?”

“
I
am a gentleman.” He wasn’t certain if he was reminding her or himself. But her mouth hovered inches from his, and he couldn’t resist closing the gap. She tasted like brandy, hot and spicy. She tentatively opened her mouth when he pressed her. Then he swept inside. She met him, her tongue brushing his, her head tilting so he could consume her.

“I doona want a gentleman,” she breathed against his lips as she cupped the back of his head and drew it down to her. Rhiannon tilted her head to expose her neck. “I want ye. All of ye. Right now.”

“What has come over you?” he asked, between frantic kisses he pressed to her throat.

“Ye havena come over me. No’ yet,” she breathed.

Bloody hell.

Rhiannon could feel the heat as it crept up her neck. But she couldn’t give up now. He needed to feed. And she was the sole person who could fill that need for him.

His indrawn breath when she pressed her lips to the side of his jaw was nearly her undoing. She had no idea how to seduce a vampyre. But she would give it her all. “I want ye,” she breathed against his skin. He groaned and lowered his hands to where they spanned her waist. Then he tugged her closer to him. Rhiannon reached down and gathered her skirts in her hands, lifted them above her knees, and drew him closer to her, her legs wrapping around his waist and her feet locked behind him.

Matthew groaned as he raised his head and cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin up until she stared into those dark-as-night eyes. “Rhiannon, there are people who could stumble upon us at any moment. We have to stop.”

“Do ye
want
ta stop?” she breathed.

“God, no. I want it to go on forever and a day.”

“Good, because I will be sorely miffed if ye stop me now.” She drew his mouth back down to hers.

She took his hand and raised it to cup her breast. The gentle swell of it filled his palm as her tongue conquered his mouth. The ridge of his manhood was
right there
at the apex of her thighs, hard and unyielding in its voracity. And she wanted it.

He jerked his lips from hers. “We cannot do this here,” he bit out. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Rhiannon, I’m a gentleman. Please don’t prove me wrong. I’ll be unable to resist you.”

“Good,” she bit out as she tugged at the fall of his trousers. He batted her hands away, until she caught one of them and pressed it toward her center. She knew she was wet, and she was completely unashamed. When his hand cupped her heat, she arched into it. “Please,” she begged against his lips.

“Not yet,” he groaned. Then his hand began to unlace her gown with quick and efficient movements. With a gentle tug, one breast popped free. He stared down at her, his gaze more feral than anything she’d ever seen. Then his hand encircled her breast and brought the aching peak to his lips. When his mouth closed around that turgid flesh, Rhiannon’s head fell back, her mouth dropped open in ecstasy. She quickly bared her other shoulder and offered herself up to him as though she was a feast for a starving man. Perhaps she was. Of course, she was.

Matthew went back and forth between her breasts until the ache between her thighs became a thumping pulse that demanded satisfaction. She ran her fingers into his hair and tugged. He looked up at her, desire clouding his vision. His fangs glimmered in the moonlight. “Please,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he breathed in response. Matthew’s hand found her center and began to sweep across that little nub of pleasure that had brought her so much rapture the last time. She locked her feet more tightly about his waist, holding him pressed close to her. She tugged at the fall of his trousers again, and he allowed her to expose him to the night air. But he was well hidden within the layers of her skirts, as was his hand, which still worked to bring her to a fevered pitch. He slid one finger inside her as his thumb strummed with that frantic rhythm, the one that nearly matched her pulse.

“Take me, Matt,” she breathed against his ear, and then she gently sucked his earlobe into her mouth and bit down gently. His own mouth was dangerously close to her shoulder, and she pulled his head until his lips began a slow walk toward her pulse. “Please, Matt,” she cried, the pleasure his hand provoked reminiscent of that last time he’d brought her to completion. She didn’t want to topple over that precipice without him. “Please,” she begged.

Her hips rocked in time with his movements as his teeth gently abraded her neck with a soft bite, not hard enough to break the delicate flesh there. His thumb pushed her farther and farther into the pleasure he had to offer. Then, just as she was about to explode with the ecstasy of it, his teeth pierced the skin of her neck. She cried out, her sound echoing on the night air as wave after wave of pleasure rocked her body.

She quivered around his finger that stilled inside her as she let her head fall back, let him sup on the meal that was her, and let him find his release. He swallowed, his body wracked with pleasure as he took from her, and hers was just as fulfilled as he gave back to her. He grunted, drinking his fill of her. Then when her body stopped fluttering, he pulled his teeth from her skin, licked gently across the wounds to close them, and sighed long and hard.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly by her ear, not even looking her in the eye.

“Quite the opposite,” she breathed, happy to be wrapped in splendor in his arms as they both fell back to earth.

But footsteps on the gravel path drew his attention. “If you take one more step in this direction, Radbourne, I
will kill
you,” Matthew called out.