Never Been Bit (3 page)

“You could always return to Town,” Alec suggested. The miles between London and Castle Hythe would keep Sorcha safe from at least one depraved Englishman, just in case the fear of his grandmother wore off or the lure of the little witch proved too tempting.

Bexley shook his head. “I’ve been ordered here for the duration of this party. To make certain no one makes improper advances toward Madeline.”

At least the man cared about his sister’s virtue. That was something, Alec supposed. He dropped into a seat across from the earl. “So what pursuits do you have in mind, Bexley?”

“Well,” the man sighed, “tomorrow evening there’s a ball. But tonight I shall have to make my own fun. I plan to head into the village with Radbourne. He always manages to find the most willing chits. Care to join us?”

Bexley
and
Radbourne? The combination was nauseating. Still, Alec did need to feed and barmaids were generally easy marks. After a little enchantment, the women wouldn’t even remember their encounter. Then the rest of Bexley’s words hit him. “Did you say ‘ball’?”

The earl grimaced. “Unfortunately. All the guests and local gentry. Did Grandmother not tell you?”

No, Her Grace had failed to mention the event.
All the guests and local gentry
. Alec’s stomach twisted. The odds that Cait, Eynsford, and his blasted pack would be present were not in Alec’s favor. “Radbourne is attending, I assume?”

“Everyone at The Park.”

Bloody perfect. Alec groaned. He’d have to see Cait.

Well, he didn’t
have
to see her. He could skip the blasted ball, but in doing so, he’d be throwing Sorcha to the Lycans —or rather she’d throw herself at them and he wouldn’t be around to prevent her foolishness. If only he could talk her into packing her trunk and heading home, he wouldn’t have to stay in Kent himself. Though the likelihood of that seemed nonexistent.

“You all right, MacQuarrie?” Bexley asked, sliding forward in his chair.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Alec hedged. Who wouldn’t want to see the girl of his dreams happily married to a slobbering beast?

The earl shrugged, looking less concerned, and settled back against his seat. “So, up for it?”

“Up for what?”

The man scoffed as though speaking to Alec was a chore. “For our jaunt into the village this evening.”

As long as Bexley, Radbourne, and his brothers were headed away from the castle, Alec wouldn’t have to watch over Sorcha. And by the end of the evening he would be in need of sustenance. Though the company was not of his choosing, he didn’t have many choices here at Castle Hythe. He could always entice a maid at the castle, but he hated doing so. It was always a bit precarious to partake where he slept. Someone could overhear or see something.

Alec raked a hand through his hair. “Oh, of course. Into the village. Sounds amusing.” About as amusing as catching the plague.

~*~

Sorcha flopped onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling.

She’d waited the entire day for some sort of entertainment.

Not that Her Grace wasn’t entertaining in her own right. But Sorcha had hoped for more. Alec had slunk away as soon as he had disentangled himself from the duchess’ grasp.

And Maddie had had to suffer more dress fittings for the upcoming social events. Even Cait had cried off, stating she was too tired for a visit in the note she sent back to Sorcha. And not a single Lycan had made an appearance.

How on earth was she to catch a beast of her very own if she couldn’t even be in the same room with one?

Sorcha was nearly certain the duchess had cards or charades planned for the night’s activities. Mindless pursuits were better than no pursuits, she thought with a heavy sigh. But then the jingle of tack outside caught her attention. She moved quickly to her window and pushed aside the heavy drapes. Three men sat astride prancing horses that danced in their places, appearing to be nearly as anxious to get moving as the gentlemen were. Sorcha shoved the window open, and the crisp country air filtered into her chambers.

One of the men reached into his pocket, pulled out his watch fob, and then glanced up at the rising moon.

Sorcha’s breath caught in her throat. After waiting more than a sennight, the objects of her desire had finally arrived.

“Bexley had better hurry up, or we’ll head into Folkestone without him,” Archer Hadley, Viscount Radbourne, complained.

Sorcha nearly sighed. All three of the Lycans were directly beneath her window. How wonderfully fortuitous.

Radbourne was just as handsome as he’d been the previous spring at Rhiannon’s wedding.

“You could be a gentleman, Archer. You know, go to the door and request his presence like any other man of good breeding would do,” one of his twin brothers teased. If they’d just look up, she could tell them apart. Weston had a very dashing scar across his cheek, while Grayson was unmarred.

“And ruin my good reputation?” the viscount asked. “It took too many years to cultivate the image I have.”

“He’s right.” The other twin laughed. “No one would expect the dissolute Lord Radbourne to do anything gentlemanly.”

“Did someone take your name in vain, Radbourne?” A tall man sauntered from the castle.

Hmm. Sorcha had had no idea that Maddie’s oldest brother was acquainted with the Hadley men. That was most useful information.

Lord Bexley strode toward the wolfish trio who still sat atop their horses. The earl’s groom tossed him the reins to his own horse. “Heaven forbid anyone should make such an egregious error as to call Archer Hadley a gentleman,” Bexley joked merrily as he mounted.

“Who’s the extra horse for?” Lord Radbourne asked. “Is Robert in residence?”

Bexley shook his head. “My brother is still hiding somewhere in Yorkshire. No, I’ve asked Mr. MacQuarrie to join us. Hope you don’t mind,” he said glancing toward the door. “He should be here in a moment.” Bexley turned his gaze back at the Hadley men. “You are acquainted with MacQuarrie, aren’t you?”

“Indeed,” Lord Radbourne grumbled, appearing less than pleased by the addition to their party.

“Had anyone told me this night had gone to the dogs, I’d have probably cried off,” Sorcha heard Alec reply as his long legs ate up the distance from the main door to where his horse stood saddled and ready for him. She fought the grin that pulled at the corners of her lips.
Gone to the dogs.

She snorted a little as she covered a giggle with her hand.

Alec took the reins and hoisted himself atop the beautiful beast as smoothly as a cavalry officer. “Shall we?” he asked.

Just then, Lord Radbourne must have noticed her as she hung so indecorously out the window, trying to capture their every word, because he doffed his hat and bowed his head toward her. “Miss Ferguson,” he called, which had everyone’s head turning in her direction. It was much too late to duck behind the curtain at this point. So, instead, she simply waved at the collection of men beneath her window.

“Such a vision of loveliness, Miss Ferguson. Should I stay and be your companion for the evening?” Lord Radbourne asked. Not even a hint of a smile crossed his lips. He simply regarded her stoically, waiting for her response.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Alec spoke first.

“Miss Ferguson can do much better than the company of mutts like you.”

“Beg your pardon, MacQuarrie,” Weston Hadley replied, fingering the scar on his cheek. “Unless you’d like to discuss your own bloody habits, I’d suggest you leave ours in good company where they belong.”

Sorcha noticed the use of the word “bloody,” and Alec must have as well, because he simply swung his mount around and headed down the lane.

“Until next time, Miss Ferguson.” Lord Radbourne touched the brim of his beaver hat in farewell and followed Alec down the drive.

Sorcha could hardly believe her luck. Finally, she’d spotted her coveted Lycans… But they were moving as far and as fast away from her as they could. She wouldn’t have it. Her destiny lay with one of those Lycans; she just knew it.

After all, Cait and Elspeth had both married beasts of that variety and they were gloriously happy. The Hadley men were as close to perfection as Sorcha was going to get.

She jumped to her feet, searching everywhere for her dark cloak. She finally located it in one of her many trunks and tossed it over her arm. She smoothed her dress in front of the looking glass and found her appearance to be quite normal.

They were headed to Folkestone, according to Lord Radbourne. She and Maddie had gone into the village the previous afternoon. It was fairly close, all things considered.

If only she had some clue as to their ultimate destination once they reached the village, she’d know how to dress.

Well, there was nothing for it. She’d have to go as she was.

Sorcha crept from her room before realizing she was drawing attention to herself. Foolish. She’d do much better to act as though she wasn’t up to something nefarious. She rose to her full height and smoothly made her way to the main level.

Luckily, the household was teeming with people. When she streaked out the door and toward the stables, no one even took notice. The groom, Johnny, sat outside the stables on the edge of a wooden fence, his feet wedged between the boards to keep himself in place. When he saw Sorcha approach, he dropped to the ground to stand before her.

“Miss Ferguson,” he started, obviously unsettled by her appearance out of nowhere. “What brings you to the stables so late?”

It would have been so much easier if she could have borrowed a mount without anyone realizing. Sorcha bit the inside of her cheek and racked her brain for a reason to be in such an awkward position. And to put the poor groom in such an awkward position. She really should go back to the house. But to do so would be to abandon her pursuit of a Lycan for her own, wouldn’t it?

“Johnny,” she began quietly, batting her eyelashes in what she hoped was a coquettish move. Instead, she probably looked like she had dirt in her eye. “Do ye remember yesterday when Lady Madeline and I went ta the village?”

“Of course, miss.” The man nodded. “I accompanied you myself,” he said.

“I lost something there.” She looked at him. And waited.

His eyes scrunched together. She’d lost her mind. He would never fall for it.

“Was it something of value, miss?” he asked. He cared.

Oh, dear. He had a conscience. It was too bad Sorcha had abandoned hers back in her chambers.

“Oh,
very
much value,” she said, praying it was dark enough to hide the nervous tic above her eyebrow.

“Do you remember where you lost it?” he asked. “I can go and look for it. I’ll do it right now.” Such a dear young man. Guilt bit at Sorcha’s lust for a beast of her own, but she pushed past it.

“I don’t remember, but I think if I went back there, I might be able ta retrace my steps and find it. Do ye think ye could take me?”

“Certainly. I think the duchess would grant me leave.”

“Oh, I just talked ta the duchess and she did grant ye leave.” She would be forgiven for her lie, wouldn’t she?

Certainly she would.

“Then first thing tomorrow,” he replied with a nod.

She shook her head frantically and blinked as though she blinked back tears. “Ye doona understand how important it is.” She grasped his hands in hers and squeezed. She knew the very moment she had won him over. It was when he sighed heavily. “The duchess said ye can take me tonight. Right
now
.” She waited for his response.

“If ye say so, miss,” was his only reply. “I’ll just ready a carriage.”

Sorcha paced from one side of the barn to the next as he prepared their conveyance. Nothing good could come of this, could it? Well, perhaps something could. Perhaps a Lycan would fall in love with her and claim her under the light of the moon. Well, not tonight’s moon, since it wasn’t full. But some day. Sooner rather than later, hopefully.

“Do you have a companion, miss?” Johnny asked as he handed her inside the carriage.

Blast it. No companion. “I do, but the poor dear has taken ill. And I do so want ta go ta the village tonight, ye see.”

He looked doubtful for the first time all night.

“It was my mother’s. The item I lost.” She really should have decided what that item was. “It belonged to my mother.” When he still looked undecided, she continued.

“She’s dead.” Certainly her late mother would forgive her subterfuge.

“I’m sorry to hear that, miss,” Johnny said, his eyes softening.

“Now do ye ken why this is so important ta me?”

Because my entire world is hinged upon the impropriety of this event.

The young groom nodded and said, “We’ll find it, miss. I won’t stop looking until I do.”

Oh, he would break her heart into a million pieces if he didn’t stop being so wonderful. He’d be terribly disappointed in her when she slipped away from him in search of her Lycans once they reached Folkestone. But a lass had to take matters of the heart into her own two hands if that lass wanted to be successfully married to a beast of her own.

Chapter Three

Alec’s hunter ate up the ground as he raced east, farther and farther from Castle Hythe. If only he could lead those flea-ridden wolves so far from Sorcha that they would forget the way back to her. Wishful thinking, he knew, but it was the only thought that calmed his nerves.

What the devil was wrong with the lass? She had actually leaned out her bedchamber window trying to catch the attention of Radbourne and his sycophantic pups. The littlest witch had to be the most difficult in her whole coven.

Elspeth was reasonable. Blaire was pragmatic. Rhiannon knew her own mind, but she made wise decisions. And Cait… Well, it was best not to think about Cait. Even so, Cait had never been as difficult to deal with as Sorcha.

“I say!” Bexley called from somewhere behind him.

“We’re not racing in the Ascot, MacQuarrie. A nice leisurely jaunt will do.”

Alec pulled back on his reins, slowing his mount to a more relaxed gait. “Sorry,” he replied over his shoulder.