Never Been Bit (30 page)

She stared at him quizzically. “Birks End?”

“My home in East Galloway.” He closed the gap between them and ran his finger along her jaw. “We can escape to Birks End and you can bind me up in all the ivy you want, just as long as you’re there with me.”

Her heart pounded so loudly that he could hear it in his ears. Blood coursed through her veins, and the memory of tasting her essence rushed into his mind.

“Ye should take Miss Sewell with ye,” she whispered. But he could tell she was softening toward him because her eyes had warmed a bit and a touch of pink stained her cheeks. Thank God she wasn’t immune to him, even if her words said otherwise.

Little Rose Westfield squirmed in Sorcha’s arms, and she grabbed Alec’s neckcloth with her fist. He looked down at the smiling bairn. Well, at least he had charmed one of the witches in the room, even if Rose was only a few months old. “She really does look like Elspeth, doesn’t she?”

Sorcha tried to pry the child’s fingers from Alec’s cravat.

“She’s the prettiest little witch ever,” she crooned.

“She
is
adorable, but I wouldn’t say she was the prettiest witch ever.” Alec flashed Sorcha a smile when her eyes rose to meet his. No, the prettiest witch ever had to be Sorcha. It wasn’t just her angelic looks; it was her inner beauty that shone through in everything she did—whether it was gushing over Ben’s bairn or throwing herself on her own sword to save him from the Duchess of Hythe. No one, witch or otherwise, was lovelier than Sorcha Ferguson.

Skittishly, she backed away from Alec, with Rose in her arms. “Ye better no’ let Benjamin hear ye say that. He’ll challenge ye ta duel in Holyrood Park.”

Alec chuckled. “
He’s
hardly a challenge. But, you… I’m enchanted by the challenge of you, Sorch.”

She shook her head. “Doona say such things, Alec.”

“But it’s true.” He stepped closer to her, this time being careful to avoid Rose Westfield’s clutching fingers.

“But that woman—”

“Means nothing to me,” Alec professed. “She never did, Sorch.”

“She looks like Cait.”

Dear God! “Because they’re both blond? I swear to you, lass, the woman never meant anything to me, other than as a meal. I do
have
to eat. Surely, you can’t fault me for that.”

She turned away from him and crossed the floor toward a large window. There was nothing but blackness outside, but she stared out as though she could see across the ocean on a clear day. “I canna be Caitrin,” she finally muttered after the longest time. “I can only be me.”

Only
Sorcha was more than everything he wanted. Alec was at her back in the blink of an eye, his hand on her waist. He inhaled the apple blossom scent of her and buried his face in her pretty, brown hair. “I don’t want Cait.”

He kissed her shoulder, clutching her back to his front. “I want
you
, Sorcha.”

She gasped when his lips touched her skin, but she didn’t pull away from him and Alec silently rejoiced.

Rose Westfield chose that moment to cry.

Alec raised his head to look down into the bairn’s scrunched-up face. She was positively enchanting in her own right, all pink flesh and pudgy little rolls. She even smelled like blueberries, if that was possible.
Was
that possible? Or was his nose playing tricks on him? A small part of him wanted to admit he would miss having children.

He’d always assumed he’d be a father some day. He’d have a little boy who looked like him. Or a little girl he could dote on who looked like Sorcha. He groaned.

“Ye sound like ye have the weight of the world on yer shoulders, Alec,” Sorcha said quietly as she leaned her head back against his chest.

“When I have you in my arms, all is right with the world, Sorch.” He squeezed her gently. “Your father is going to worry if I don’t deposit you into his loving care very soon,” Alec reminded her. He didn’t want to give her up, but they couldn’t stay in Westfield’s nursery all night.

The Lycan’s voice rang out from the corridor. “Everything all right in here?” Ben asked, his voice full of playful suspicion. As always, he was as subtle as a rock. “I was beginning to think you’d have him tied up in vines and be dangling his sorry hide out the window by now.”

“So sorry to disappoint you,” Alec replied.

“I did think about it,” Sorcha interjected. “But the window seemed so very ordinary. I’d prefer a tree. Or the side of a cliff.”

“Or the top of Arthur’s Seat.” Ben winked at her.

“Exactly.” Sorcha sighed with feigned contentment. Little witch.

Ben sobered and leaned closer to Sorcha to whisper dramatically, “Your father sent a coach to collect you, lass. It appears as though he knows you’ve returned and that you haven’t come to greet him.”

“Oh, dear,” Sorcha cried as she passed the bairn over to Ben. “If he’s gone so far as ta send a carriage, I had better hurry.” She started from the room. But then she turned back and looked over her shoulder. “Are ye comin’, Alec?”

Of course, he was. Wild dragons couldn’t pull her from his side, not now that he had her back.

~*~

It seemed like forever since Sorcha had been home. A month or so with Blaire and Lord Kettering in Derbyshire. A couple weeks with Rhiannon and Lord Blodswell in London.

A month with Maddie and the Duchess of Hythe in Kent.

Then more than a fortnight on the North Road with Alec, Cait, and Eynsford. But now that she was home, it didn’t quite feel right. Everything sounded the same, and the slight hum of activity was comforting. Home looked the same with its brightly colored walls and gleaming gold accents. It even smelled the same, like sandalwood shaving lotion and like the cinnamon biscuits Papa and Wallace devoured on a regular basis. Yet it wasn’t the same at all, not that Sorcha could name what exactly was different.

Before she could say as much to Alec, her father’s voice boomed from the opposite end of the corridor. “Did ye forget yer way home, lass?” An instant later, she found herself wrapped in his arms and the air nearly squeezed from her lungs.

“Let go, Papa,” she giggled.

But he didn’t. He only held her tighter. “I missed ye so much. I thought it was some kind of mistake when Eynsford sent a note this evenin’, makin’ sure ye made it home all right.”

Behind them, Alec ground his teeth together, which only made Sorcha laugh harder. “Please, Papa! I need ta breathe.”

Slowly he released her. He beamed down at her as he took a step back. Pride and love shone in his gaze, and Sorcha couldn’t help but smile back at him. Whatever was different about home, it certainly wasn’t Papa. The size of a small ogre, he still had a full head of dark hair and hazel eyes that twinkled with happiness. “Ye are a sight for sore eyes, but I thought ye were goin’ ta stay with that duchess a while longer.”

That had been the plan, but Sorcha shook her head.

“Papa, I have somethin’ ta tell ye.”

But his gaze had found Alec before she could say more.

“Alec MacQuarrie!
Havers
, it’s been ages! I thought ye left us for good last year.”

“Well, sir, I—”

“Come in, come in. Have ye had dinner, lad?”

“I—um…” Alec struggled.

“Ye must join us.” Sorcha’s father gestured down the corridor. “I’m sure Wallace will love ta see ye.”

“Thank you, sir, but—”

“No buts. I want ta hear what ye’ve been up ta, lad.” Then he began to lead Sorcha toward the dining hall. “Come along, MacQuarrie.”

Sorcha glanced back over her shoulder at the vampyre she loved. He trailed behind them, a look of pure amusement on his face. At least he wasn’t put out with Papa’s heavy-handed ways. There would be time for them to share their news after dinner, when her father wasn’t so excitable and was actually able to listen instead of gushing.

“
Crivens!
” Wallace Ferguson leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. “Sorcha! I thought Eynsford was daft, sayin’ ye were home.” Her giant half brother rushed forward and drew her into an embrace just as tightly as their father had.

“Watch your strength, Ferguson,” Alec said. “You don’t want to break the lass in two.”

Wallace released his hold on Sorcha and gaped at Alec.

“Good God! Alec MacQuarrie! I thought ye were dead.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sorcha watched closely as Alec frowned at the food on his plate. There was little she could do to help him. Ever since Wallace had made the unfortunate statement about Alec’s mortality, or lack thereof, her vampyre hadn’t quite seemed himself. She wished she knew why her brother would say such a thing. Who had he been talking to?

Alec made a good show of shoving his salmon from side to side to make it seem like he was eating. But she knew he wasn’t. He reminded her of a wee lad who would tuck brussels sprouts in his pockets to keep from having to eat them, only to have servants find a handkerchief of them in an odd place. What else was he to do? She’d ended up seated between her brother and father at the table. Alec couldn’t switch their plates from that distance. Although her family had been solely focused on her ever since they assumed their places.

Already she’d been asked to describe every aspect of Blaire’s home in Derbyshire. She’d had to detail her weeks in London and the entertainments she’d enjoyed with Rhiannon and Lord Blodswell. And she’d had to tell them all about the Duchess of Hythe and her new friend, Lady Madeline. Her jaw had begun to ache from all the talking.

“Sorcha, how was it traveling with Eynsford and Cait all the way from Kent? That’s an awfully long way. Were they terribly poor company for an unmarried lass?” her father asked as he speared a carrot from his plate.

“Ta be honest, Cait was a tiny bit ill. Aside from that, though, the trip was just fine.” She raised a sly glance at Alec. “But Alec traveled with us, Papa. He may have a different opinion.”

“How about it, MacQuarrie?” Her father finally turned his attention on Alec. “Were they sickenin’ with all that love babble? The pair of them nearly turns my stomach with their flagrant adoration for one another.”

“Must we discuss this at the table, Papa?” Sorcha interjected. Not only was it a touchy subject for Alec, but it was also impolite to discuss such things at a family meal.

Alec shoved a potato across his plate. Poor man. He must be terribly uncomfortable.

“No’ hungry, MacQuarrie?” Wallace asked. “Cook will be inconsolable if ye send back yer whole plate. Prides herself as the best in four counties.” He patted his stomach as though that was all the proof anyone needed to confirm such claims.

“Oh, no. It’s wonderful. But I only recently ate.” Alec’s gaze dropped to the neck of Sorcha’s gown and a warm rush washed up her cheeks, she was sure. He
hadn’t
recently eaten. But he would probably like to. And soon.

She’d like it quite a bit herself.

“Are ye all right, Sorch?” Wallace asked, his eyebrows arching together with concern. “Ye doona look well.”

Sorcha fanned her face. “It’s a bit warm in here, is all.”

“And we’ve been makin’ ye talk nearly nonstop.” Her father frowned. “So, let me tell ye what ye’ve missed…” As he began to drone on about all the things that had happened in her absence, Sorcha tried to figure out a way to help Alec with the food on his plate. Then she had a brilliant idea.

A nice potted plant sat in the middle of the dining room table, its vines and leaves trailing delicately over the sides of its container. Sorcha reached over and gently rubbed the plant, which woke beneath her fingers. She giggled as it rubbed itself on the back of her hand like a cat that’d missed her.

“Stop playin’ with the plant, Sorch,” her father grumbled.

“And eat yer dinner.”

“Yes, Papa,” she conceded with a small smile.

But with a quick mention in her mind, she told the plant exactly what she wanted it to do and then laughed inwardly at the reaction she expected from Alec. She watched out of the corner of her eye as a sneaky little vine slid across the table and tickled the underside of his palm. He jumped in his seat and then immediately looked up from his plate. His eyes met hers, a warning in their dark depths. He was so adorable when he was discomfited. She wanted to wiggle in her chair with excitement.

The tiny little vine sneaked across the table and under the edge of his plate, then reached over the edge and snatched a small potato with its greedy little grasp. Then it retreated into its container with its prize. One potato down, only three more to go.

Alec mouthed at her to stop her antics, adding a violent slash of his hand when her father wasn’t looking. But she was having way too much fun.

After the little vine had absconded with all of his potatoes, it moved on to his salmon. The fish proved to be much more difficult to grasp, however, so the vine had to enlist the help of a few leaves onto which Alec could rake the salmon from his plate. Then all of the bits disappeared.

Sorcha was positively delighted when dessert arrived.

Raspberry creams had always been one of her favorites.

But the cream would prove to be much trickier to remove from the dish. She gave it a lot of thought and smiled when she finally figured out what to do.

Soon the cream was delivered and Wallace, as she’d hoped, devoured two servings of the dessert before Sorcha could even put a spoon to her own sweet treat. Of course, Alec hadn’t touched a bite of his. A switch would be simple, especially as it looked like Wallace might steal the one in front of Alec right out from under his nose. So Sorcha encouraged a pretty little flower to slide over to Alec’s dish, drop itself directly into the gooey mess, and swish around so that its leaves were coated.

All the while, Alec looked positively mortified, but her father and Wallace were discussing the latest shipping investment and were much too engrossed to even realize she wasn’t paying attention to them, much less that she was tormenting Alec with her powers.

Alec shot her a storm-filled glance when the little flower, laden with heavy, creamy dessert moved up his waistcoat and bumped the end of his nose, leaving a blob of its gooey pink mess behind. Alec swiped at it with his napkin and grumbled beneath his breath. She asked the flower to do it again, only this time he moved his head to avoid the plant and it caught his cheek.