In the Heat of the Bite (27 page)

The footsteps stopped.

“She is fine. I will return her to the soiree in due time,” he said. The footsteps started away. “It appears as though you have a protector in the mutt,” Matthew grunted as he helped her restore her clothing.

“Did ye…?” she started, wondering if he’d found his pleasure but uncertain how to ask.

“I did,” he confirmed with a nod. “A fact that brings me great shame because I have not been that out of control since I was a green lad.”

“It brings me pleasure that I was able ta do that,” she giggled.

“Of course, it does,” he chuckled as he moved back to look her in the eye. “You’re all right?”

“I’m no’ made of glass, Matthew. I willna break,” she teased. Then she groaned a complaint as he unlocked her feet from behind his back and turned to adjust his trousers.

He appraised her from head to toe, once they had righted her clothing. “You look as though you have been tupped on a garden wall, lass,” he lamented.

Rhiannon stifled a grin. “Do I look like I enjoyed it?”

“Did you?” His gaze was penetrating.

“That’s for me ta ken and for ye ta find out, my lord,” she sang as she spun away from him. He ran to catch up with her. She could hear his footsteps behind her, but then they stopped.

Just as Rhiannon disappeared around a hedge, Matthew found himself surrounded by a pack of wolves. Oh, they looked like men to anyone else, but they were wolves, nonetheless.

The moonlight glinted off the Marquess of Eynsford’s golden hair, and he growled low in his throat. “We had an agreement, Blodswell.”

“Did we?” Matthew clasped his hands behind his back, forcing himself to appear composed in front of the unruly pack.

“You were not to take a drop of her blood unless you were married. That was the deal we made,” the marquess reminded him.

Oh,
that
. Matthew silently dared Eynsford or any other man to resist the temptation Rhiannon presented. He needed her more than he had ever needed anyone, and she had offered herself to him for the taking.

“I smelled blood as she raced past,” Viscount Radbourne snarled. “She was safer with me.”

Matthew suppressed a snort. Radbourne was more put out about having heard Rhiannon’s gasps of pleasure moments earlier than he was about her lack of blood. “As she’s my fiancée, I’ll determine in whose company she is most safe.”

“One would think that as her fiancé,” Eynsford grumbled, “you’d have accompanied her this evening instead of sending your regards.”

“It couldn’t be helped.” Matthew folded his arms across his chest. Truly, Eynsford’s devotion to Rhiannon was admirable, but Matthew didn’t have to explain himself to the marquess or his pack or any other well-meaning Lycan, for that matter. He’d had his fill of their breed this evening.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” one of the twin Lycans barked.

Well, that was the outside of enough. It was one thing to deal with Eynsford’s arrogance and Radbourne’s pomposity. But it was something else entirely to let one of their young pups speak to him as though he was a recalcitrant page in need of a reprimand. Matthew glared at the marquess. “Westfield has just given me notice. So call off your dogs.”

Eynsford appeared taken aback by the statement, shaking his head as if in disbelief or disgust. “Westfield?” he growled. “Which Westfield?”

There was some underlying situation Matthew didn’t quite understand, nor did he care. “Lord Benjamin.”

Eynsford seemed to suck in a relieved breath of air, but then his brow furrowed anew. “Benjamin? Where did you see
Benjamin
Westfield?”

Matthew straightened his jacket and said, “Edinburgh,” as he removed a gardenia-scented piece of lint from his sleeve.

“But you said…” Eynsford took a step closer to Matthew. “I thought you met Rhiannon in London.”

“I did.”

“Then when were you in Edinburgh? When exactly did Westfield give you notice?”

Ah, so these Lycans were unaware of the extent of vampyres’ powers and abilities, or of their speed at the very least. Matthew bit back a smile. “About an hour ago.”

Eynsford’s eyes widened in surprise as the truth began to sink into his thick Lycan skull. “I had no idea.”

“Clearly.” Matthew rose to his full height. “Your devotion to Miss Sinclair is admirable but unnecessary, Eynsford. The lass’ father has given me his blessing. The banns will begin to be read on Sunday. She will be my wife before the next full moon. So Rhiannon does not need you to protect her from me.”

One of the twins snorted at that statement. “All of London needs to be protected from you. Miss Sinclair included.”

Before Matthew could respond, the verbose twin rose off the ground, his feet dangling in the air. It took his brothers and the marquess a moment to realize someone had actually lifted the reckless pup from the garden path by the scruff of his neck and still held him in her grasp.

“Callista!” Matthew growled. “Put the man down.”

“Don’t you mean dog?” His maker snarled, tightening her grip on the Hadley twin.

“Put him down!” Matthew ordered again. “What if someone saw you?”

“Then I’d help them forget.” Callista thrust the man from her grasp and he tumbled into the hedge a few feet away, gasping for breath. Then she slowly folded her arms across her chest as the other Lycans closed in around her. “Pathetic, all of you.”

“I beg your pardon,” Radbourne bit out.

Callista’s gaze traveled up and down the viscount. “Handsome, I’ll grant you that. But pathetic all the same.”

Matthew winced. There wasn’t a way this evening would end well. Still, he could hope the participants could see reason. “Callista, I have this under control.”

Her black eyes flashed to him. “You, I will deal with later.” Then she turned her attention to the four Lycans in their midst, their fallen member having just found his feet. “I haven’t the time to deal with male pride and posturing at the moment. So allow me to end the debate, gentlemen.
I
am the strongest creature here, and none of you come close to matching me, except perhaps the gallant knight over there, who for some reason humors the lot of you by allowing your inane interrogations.”

“Humor?” Eynsford echoed.

Callista scoffed as she narrowed her eyes on the golden-haired marquess. “And I thought Lycans had excellent hearing. Yes,
humor
. Are you having difficulty understanding the meaning of the word, my lord? Shall I define it for you?”

Eynsford growled low in his throat.

“Callista!” Matthew called. “Stop this now.”

After a dismissive sweep of her eyes, his maker glanced back at the marquess. “Do you know who this man is?” She gestured toward Matthew.

“Of course. He’s the Earl of Blodswell. Who are you?”

“He’s my creation,” she clipped out. “He’s worth all of you and more. He is a noble vampyre of the Griffinic order. And yet you berate him and question him as though he is someone to be feared or reviled.” She paused for dramatic effect, as she was wont to do. “And it has come to an end.”

“Noble?” Radbourne grumbled. “I hardly think a man taking liberties with a young lady can be described as noble.”

In a flash, Callista was before the viscount, her razor-sharp nails wrapped around his throat. “You will hold your tongue. Is that understood?” Then she shoved him back toward his brothers.

“Does being his maker mean she’s his
mother
?” one of the twins mumbled. “Looks rather good for her age.”

“Do you think he lets his mother fight all his battles?” his look-alike added,
sotto voce
.

Matthew rubbed his brow. Any chance that the evening would end peacefully had just come to an end. Callista had never been known for her patience. And sarcasm tended to chafe her pride more than a bit. Of course, the pups had no way of knowing that, no way of knowing what kind of wrath they provoked.

Callista turned a sultry gaze on the second loquacious Hadley twin, entrancing him completely within seconds. She gestured the young Lycan forward with the flick of her finger. “Such a charming young man.”

Matthew stepped between the two, keeping the foolhardy wolfling from reaching the vampyric temptress. “I
let
them interrogate me because they care for my human lass. They are worried for her, Callista. That is all.”

“Worried about
you
?” She tossed her head back regally, sending her russet curls billowing over her shoulders. “That’s the most amusing thing I’ve heard this century.”

“I’m glad Rhiannon has those who care for her welfare.” Her father certainly didn’t, nor did her aunt, from what he’d seen. Annoying as he found Eynsford and his pack, they
did
have the lass’ best interest at heart, no matter how misguided they might be.

“Human sentiments,” she complained. “I’ll have that word with you
now
, Matthew.”

Matthew agreed with a nod. As always, there was no arguing with Callista. He glanced back at Eynsford. “Make sure Rhiannon gets home safely.”

It took only that fraction of a moment when he wasn’t watching his maker for Callista to grasp the twin she had originally beckoned forward. She held the young man by his jacket. “Insolence is so ugly.” With a pointy fingernail, she scratched a mark on the Lycan’s face from his ear across his cheek to his mouth. “Perhaps that will remind you to watch your tongue in the future.”

Matthew groaned. “Good God, Callista!”

She tossed the now scarred Lycan toward his brothers. “Consider that a warning for all of you.”

The young man yelped in pain and clutched at his cheek, as though waiting for the injury to heal. It wouldn’t do any good. Lycans
could
heal themselves, and the pain and blood
would
recede momentarily, but this Hadley twin would wear Callista’s mark until the end of his days.

Eynsford grasped the wolfling by the arm and began to pull him from the group. “Let me see it, Wes.” Then he glanced back at Matthew, a warning in his eyes that this encounter, this unprovoked attack would not go unanswered. “Archer, go extricate my wife from whatever she’s doing and gather up Miss Sinclair in the process. Gray, call for the coaches and be quick about it.”

Both the viscount and uninjured twin rushed to do Eynsford’s bidding.

“And, you, Blodswell, I’ll expect you in my study first thing in the morning.” Then the marquess began to lead his injured pack member into the safety of the darkness.

“Watch your tone, my lord,” Callista warned to the man’s retreating back. “You do not dictate to Blodswell or any of our kind.”

“I’ll be there, Eynsford,” Matthew called after the Lycan, hoping to keep the situation from becoming even more explosive. “And please tell Rhiannon I shall see her soon.”

The marquess and scarred wolfling disappeared around a hedge, and Matthew could hear the pair make their way toward the front of the house. He raked a hand through his hair as he glared at his maker. “Was that necessary?”

Callista shrugged. “It’ll make it easier knowing which one is which in the future. Besides, I didn’t care for his impudence. As though you’d need me to fight your battles.” Then she rose to her full height, which was still more than a foot shorter than Matthew, and speared him with her haughtiest stare.

“However, if
you
had behaved properly, they wouldn’t get such foolish ideas. Whoever heard of a vampyre allowing those drooling beasts to question him in such a fashion? Completely absurd, all of it. The evening’s events can all be laid solely at your feet, Matthew.”

“
My
feet?” he echoed in outrage.

“Of course,
your
feet. Who else is responsible?” Callista smoothed her filmy gown back into place as though she hadn’t a care in the world. “At times like this, Matthew, I cannot quite believe you are my creation. First it was innocent chits and the desire for fatherhood. And now,
now
, it’s cavorting with Lycans?” She spit out the last word as though it left a bad taste in her mouth and once again met his gaze. “Have you descended into madness?”

The innocent chits and foundlings she had been all right with. Fraternizing with Lycans had been too much for her to understand. “My intended is a guest in Eynsford’s home, dear. I did not seek out Lycans of my own accord.”

“Well, I should hope not.” She scrunched up her pert little nose as though she smelled something rancid. “Why is your
intended
staying with Lycans? Is her discernment so flawed?”

“Her lifelong friend is Eynsford’s wife.”

One of Callista’s sculpted brows shot upwards. “So poor judgment begets more of the same? Is that it? None of this speaks well for your bride, my son.”

Matthew shook his head. “Do leave Rhiannon out of this.”

Callista reached up and smoothed her hand over Matthew’s jaw. “Well, you haven’t left her out of it, have you? Your color looks better.” She brushed a motherly kiss to his chin. “You smell properly of
human
blood tonight. Tell me, have your difficulties ended? Or have you finally partaken of your intended?”

Matthew could still taste Rhiannon’s sweetness on his tongue. He shouldn’t have indulged. He should have waited. Yet her passion had swept over him, and as he’d pierced her tender neck, he’d only barely kept himself from taking her innocence. “We’ll be married as soon as we’re done with the banns.”

“Three weeks?” Callista scoffed. “Do you intend to go three weeks without the chit’s blood? Or do you, oh noble knight, intend to be very naughty in the interim?”

“I won’t discuss this with you.” Especially, as he had no idea what to say. He wanted to be strong, but he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough, which was something he was loathe to admit to anyone, most especially Callista.

“Had you visited me, my excursion into Eugenia Hythe’s garden would have been unnecessary. I told you I wanted to see you by the end of the week.”

“I was in Scotland.”

She shrugged. “Then you should have visited beforehand.” She started toward the garden path. “How is Eugenia these days?”

“A dragon of the worst order.”