Summers, Jordan

GOTHIC PASSIONS

An Ellora’s Cave publication
written by

JORDAN
SUMMERS

MS Reader (LIT) ISBN #
1-84360-605-4

Other available formats (no ISBNs
are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB),
Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

© Copyright JORDAN SUMMERS, 2003.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
USA

Ellora’s Cave Ltd,
UK

This e-book may not be reproduced
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communication without author/publisher permission.

Edited by
BRIANA ST. JAMES

Cover Art by
CHRISTINE CLAVEL

Warning:

The following material contains strong sexual content meant for
mature readers. GOTHIC PASSIONS has been rated NC-17, erotic, by three
individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a
place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are unlikely to happen
upon it. That said, enjoy…

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thank-you for your support and patronage.

To Mom:

Thanks for everything.

Acknowledgment:

Many thanks to my dear husband without whose support, none
of this would be possible. Aunt Viney, who I still believe is the best baker on
this planet. Thanks N.P. for the inspiration behind the name. Also Edna and
Grandma, who I wish could have been here to see this, thank you both for
believing… My final thanks go to Allie, Julie, MamaZ and Kelly for taking the
time to read this story. I found your suggestions invaluable.

Prologue

1812…

The journey from
Oughterard
,
Ireland
to
London
had been tedious going for Richard Sebastian Stuart, the sixth Earl of Lyon.
With vast holdings in
Scotland
and
England
, he’d
had no trouble having his trusty valet set up points along the way where
Richard had been able to seek rest from the encroaching sunlight.

They’d reached
London
by
midnight
, a fortnight after leaving
Oughterard. Instead of driving his master to Richard’s town home on
Jermyn
Street
, Hurley delivered him to Caulfield’s in
Covent
Garden
, a gambling den and brothel that Richard frequented while
visiting
London
.

Hurley stepped down from the carriage and opened the
door. “You must eat, my lord,” Hurley murmured, bowing his head.

Lord Lyon glanced out the carriage door at the stately
Gothic Revival style house before him. Its spiraling columns rising high above
the cobbles with a discreet portico swathed in white, the building stared out
portentously in the darkness. Familiar yet foreign like a discarded mistress.
Thick curtains hung in the windows preventing light from penetrating or
escaping.

Richard grasped a small box, slipping it into his coat
pocket, before his gaze found Hurley. “What would I do without you, old friend?”

The valet smiled, yet said nothing more. He waited for
Richard to exit the carriage and then shut the door behind him. “I’ll pull
around back and wait.”

“Thank you.” Richard clasped Hurley on the shoulder in
gratitude and then proceeded up the stairs, welcoming the damp embrace of the
London
air.

A doorman waited at the top, standing vigilantly
outside to welcome customers and keep interlopers away. His blue tailcoat,
outfitted with gold buttons, Hessian boots, and buckskin breeches would allow
the bruiser to pass for a true gentleman in the cover of night. Only gentlemen
of Richard’s breeding knew the difference. The doorman opened the whitewashed
door leading into the foyer.

“Welcome, my lord.”

“Thank you for inviting me in,
Adams
.”

The man nodded, his polished façade momentarily
forgotten, as if he were surprised Richard remembered his name, before quickly
recovering. “You’re welcome, my lord.” The man bowed and bid Richard entry.

Richard smiled and stepped over the threshold. The
familiar foyer enveloped him with its deep swathes of burgundy and plush velvet
seats. Dark oak paneling covered the walls, lending depth to the masculine
domain. The spicy scent of brandy and honeyed tobacco filled the air.

Richard took a deep breath, immediately locating every
warm body in the house. The sound of blood pounding through their veins was
like a Beethoven’s symphony to his ears. He licked his upper lip. His mouth
watered and his fangs burst forth. He hadn’t eaten in three days and was
famished.

Richard unerringly located Madam Josephine amongst the young
Corinthians by following the cloying scent of her lavender-water perfume. He
approached and stood at her side. Her perceptive brown eyes never left the card
tables, while she spoke.

“It’s so nice to see you again, my lord.” Josephine
offered her gloved hand to Richard. “We’ve missed your company.”

“You are too kind, madam.” Richard bowed and brought
her hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss upon her gloved knuckles.

“I trust your trip went well.” She arched a brow and
glanced at him for a moment, before returning her attention to the cards on the
table.

“Positively uncivilized and I shan’t do it again.”

Her mouth pursed. “I’d hate to lose my best customer.
What can I do to make you forget your horrendous journey?”

Richard’s lips quirked. “The usual.” He spoke low so
that the revelers nearby did not overhear them.

Josephine turned to face him. “Of course, darling, you
can have Rose for as long as you like. But an exclusive right is going to cost
you,” she purred, pressing her ample bosom closer to Richard’s arm.

“It always does.” Richard opened his papers without
batting an eye and flashed a fortune in blunt, taking care to block his actions
from the room at large. He knew beyond a doubt the money would get her full
attention. Josephine paid heed to little else. The money would be added to his
long-standing account.

Josephine’s eyes widened to the size of teacups and she
giggled. “I do love the rich.”

Richard laughed at her unabashed admission.

“She’s upstairs waiting for a client, so you’d better
hurry if you want to beat him to her.” She waved him toward the stairs.

Richard nodded and gave Josephine a quick bow. Hurley
had been right to bring him here first. Now to find his favorite, Rose.

* * * * *

Richard climbed the stairs two at a time, his hunger ferocious.
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to be gentle. Luckily after a vampire’s first bite
the pain lessoned, soothed by the drug-like balm of his healing saliva and the
mental connection that immediately forged. He scented Rose the second he
reached the third floor landing. Instead of full-fledged relief, guilt assailed
him. She was in her favorite room. Richard grimaced. Rose was nothing if not
predictable—like most humans.

Although unlike most humans, Rose knew his secret, had known it
for years. In her tiny domain he could be himself. Richard strode down the hall
and then stopped upon reaching her door. Instead of entering, he rapped first.
A light airy voice called out from the other side, beckoning him in.

Richard entered. The small room was a pale pink,
drenched in rosy light due to a few well-placed shawls. A fire filled the
hearth lending warmth to the chill in the air. Rose lay stretched out on the
bed like an Egyptian princess waiting to be fed, dressed in a sheer chemise
that did little to conceal her full breasts. Her milky legs poked out, giving
him a good view of her unblemished skin.

Her face lit up as soon as she recognized Richard, her
delicate hands flying to cover her mouth. “I fear my eyes are playing tricks on
me. Is it really you, my lord?”

Richard removed his coat followed by his cream-colored
cravat. “My dear Rose, I fear it has been too long.”

She leapt from the bed, crossing the short distance to
Richard’s waiting arms. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“Now would I do that to you?” He smiled.

Rose shook her head, stepping back. “I suppose not.”

Richard pulled the small box wrapped in lace from the
inside pocket of his jacket. “This is for you.” He handed it to her. Rose’s
eyes widened. “‘It is but a small trinket to express my apologies for being
away so long from such a dear friend. Go ahead, open it.” He smiled again in
encouragement, carefully keeping his fangs hidden out of habit. Rose had not
only been a bed companion throughout the years, she’d become a friend of sorts.

Rose tore at the lace and then opened the box. An
emerald necklace winked out, its green facets sparkling in the firelight. She
sucked in a surprised breath. “‘It is perfect, my lord.” Her hands trembled as
she ran her fingertips over the jewels. “You should be giving this to your
betrothed.”

His brows furrowed and he cursed inwardly. “You know
very well I have no betrothed. I’ve yet to find anyone who could tolerate my…
appetites.”

“Perhaps this year will be different.” Her tone was
hopeful, yet resolved.

Richard released a heavy breath. “Why do you not let me
release you from our agreement?” He knew the answer, but hoped with the passing
of time she’d changed her mind.

Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “You know
very well I never renege on an agreement.”

“I know the reason,” he paused. “I’d hoped that by now
you’d realize that I’m a lost cause and be willing to move on once your
contract with Josephine expires at the end of the month.” Richard latched onto
Rose’s mind, although he needn’t have bothered. He didn’t have to read her
thoughts to know where they’d wandered.