The Vampire and the Virgin (41 page)

it amusing to give this stuffy earl a bit of a tease, there was a niggle of worry that ran down her spine.

What if he doesn’t come back?

Well, I don’t care
, she told herself, crossing the room and putting her back to the earl. She opened a drawer

and handed a folder to her father, who through this exchange had been muttering over the mess of papers and

correspondence atop his desk. “I think you need these,” she said softly.

Her father opened it up, squinted at the pages inside, and then nodded. “Ah, yes. Good gel, Goosie.” He

turned back to Clifton. “Whatever has you so pale? I don’t expect you to deflower the gel, just carry her love

letters.”

“Letters?” Clifton managed.

“Yes, letters,” Lucy explained. “I write coded letters to you as if I were your mistress and you carry them to

Lisbon.” She strolled over, reached up, and patted his chest. “You put them right next to your heart.” She paused

and gazed up at him. “You have one of those, don’t you?”

and gazed up at him. “You have one of those, don’t you?”

Coming February 2010

Viking in Love

The first in a new series

from
New York Times
bestselling author

Sandra Hill

Breanne and her sisters are more than capable of taking care of themselves—just ask the last man who

crossed them. But when a hasty escape lands them in the care of a Viking warrior, the ladies know they have

at last met a worthy quarry. After nine long months in the king’s service, all Caedmon wanted was…well,

certainly not five Norse princesses running his keep. And after the fiery redhead bursts into his chamber on

the very first morning…Caedmon settles on a wicked plan far more delightful than kicking her out.

B
eware of women with barbed tongues…

Caedmon was splatted out on his stomach, half-awake, knowing he must rise soon. This was a new day and

a new start for getting his estate and his family back in order.

In his head he made a list.

First, gather the entire household and establish some authority. Someone had been lax in assigning duties

and making sure they were completed. The overworked Gerard, no doubt. And the absent Alys.

Second, take stock of the larder. Huntsmen would go out for fresh meat, fishermen for fish, and he would

send someone to Jarrow to purchases spices and various other foodstuffs.

Third, designate Geoff and Wulf to work with the housecarls on fighting skills and rotating guard schedules.

Fourth, replenish the supply of weaponry.

Fifth, persuade the cook to return. The roast boar yestereve had been tough as leather, made palatable only

by the tubfuls of feast ale and strong mead they had consumed.

Sixth, the children…ah, what to do about the children? One of the cotters’ wives…or John the Bowman’s

widow…could supervise their care, and a monk from the minster in Jorvik might be induced to come and

tutor them, although his history with Father Luke did not bode well for his chances.

The door to his bedchamber swung open, interrupting his mental planning. The headboard of his bed was

against the same wall as the door, so he merely turned his head to the left and squinted one eye open.

A red-haired woman—dressed in men’s attire…high-born men’s attire, at that—stood glaring at him, hands

on hips. She was tall for a woman, and thin as a lance. As for breasts, if she had any, they must be as flat as

rounds of manchet bread. “Master Caedmon, I presume?”

“Well, I do not know about the ‘Master’ part. What manner dress is that? Are you man or woman?” He smiled,

trying for levity.

She did not return the smile.

She did not return the smile.

No sense of humor.

“You are surely the most loathsome lout I have e’er encountered.”

Whaaaat?
He had not been expecting an attack. In fact, he needed a moment for his sleep-hazed brain to

take in this apparition before him.

“Your keep is filthy, pigs broke through the sty fence and are all over the bailey, I saw dozens of mice

scampering in your great hall, thatch needs replacing on the cotters’ huts, you beget children like an acorn tree

gone wild, your staff take their ease like high nobility, there are several blubbering servants arguing over who

will bury the priest who is laid out in your chapel, and you…you slothful sluggard, you lie abed, sleeping off a

drukkin
night, no doubt.”

Whoa! One thing was for certain. This would not be yet another woman trying to crawl into his bed furs.
“Stop

shrieking. You will make my ears bleed.” Caedmon rolled over on his side, tugging the bed linen up to cover his

lower half, then sat up.

“Bestir thyself!”

“Nay!”

“Have you no shame?”

“Not much.”

“Are you lackbrained?”

“No more than you for barging into my bedchamber.”

“Even if you have no coin, there is no excuse for the neglect.”

“Not even the fact that I have been gone nine long months in service to a king undeserving of service?”

“Where is the lady of this estate?”

’Tis just like a woman to think a woman is the answer to everything!
“There is no lady.”

“Hmpfh! Why am I not surprised?”

Now he was getting annoyed. “Sarcasm ill suits you, m’lady. Have you ne’er been told that?”

“The blade goes both ways, knave.”

His eyes went wide at her foolhardy insults. “Who in bloody hell are you?”

“Breanne of Stoneheim.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“She’s a princess,” someone called out from the corridor. He saw now that a crowd of people were standing

just outside the open doorway, being entertained by this shrew’s railing at him. Geoff and Wulf were in the

forefront, of course, laughing their arses off.

“Well, Princess Breanne, what do you in my home and my bedchamber?”

She had the grace to blush. “My sisters and I came here, on our way…as a stopping-off place…for a…uh,

visit…on our journey. Your castellan offered us hospitality.”

He could tell by the deepening red on her cheeks that she was either lying or stretching the truth.

“Sisters?”

“She has four sisters,” Geoff offered. “All princesses.”

Five princesses? Here? Oh, Lord!

“And they are accompanied by two scowling Vikings who are about this tall,” Wulf added, holding a hand high

above his head. And Wulf was a big man by any standard.

“They were only scowling because your archers aimed their bows at them,” the lady declared, doing her own

good job of scowling.

“’Tis a comfort, your explanation is. I feel so much better.”

Caedmon could practically hear the grinding of her small, white teeth.

“And there is a wise man from the eastern lands who has opinions on every bloody thing in the world, most of

it involving camels.” As usual, Geoff was enjoying himself at his expense.

“Why me? I mean, why stop here at Larkspur?” he asked the bothersome woman. “Surely there are better

places.”

“My sister Tyra is your cousin.”

He frowned. “I have no cousin named Tyra.” Leastways, he did not think he did, but then he was still wooly-

witted from sleep.

“Her husband, Adam of Hawkshire, is your cousin by marriage…um, slightly removed,” the flame-haired witch

explained.

“Did you know there is a child still in nappies walking about nigh naked? He could be trampled by dogs the

size of small ponies roaming about indoors.”

“Have a caution, wench. You have already passed the bounds of good sense. Any more, and you may taste

the flavor of
my
wrath.”

She started to respond, then stopped herself.

“I told Emma to take care of Piers,” Caedmon said.

“Would that be the same Emma who spent the night spreading her thighs for the blond god?”

“She is referring to me,” Geoff preened. “The blond god.”

“And, by the by, why do all the females in this keep appear to have big bosoms?”

“Huh?”

Geoff and Wulf were laughing so hard they were bent over at their waists, holding their sides. When he was

Geoff and Wulf were laughing so hard they were bent over at their waists, holding their sides. When he was

able to speak, Geoff said, “’Twould seem that Gerard has a preference for big breasts when choosing maids

for inside work.” He gave particular emphasis to “inside work.”

“Gerard? Bloody hell! He is old enough to…never mind.”

“Not yet in his dotage, if he can still appreciate a buxom bosom,” Wulf observed.

Breanne waved a hand airily. “You are not to worry. My sisters and I will set your keep aright whilst we are

here.”

Alarm rippled through Caedmon’s body. “How long do you intend to stay?” he asked bluntly.

Another blush. “I am not certain. But you are not to worry.”

“I was not reassured the first time you said that.”

“You will hardly notice we are here.”

“I doubt that heartily.”

She went stiff as a pike, apparently not liking it when the sarcasm came from his direction, but she pressed

her lips together. Very nice lips, he noticed, if he were attracted to tall, skinny, red-haired women with barbed

tongues, which he was not. At least she was making an effort to be polite now.

Something very strange was going on, but he had more urgent matters to take care of. He’d drunk a tun of ale

yestereve and now he needed to piss. Badly.

“Go down to the great hall and wait for me. We will discuss this later.”

The shrew lifted her chin defiantly and said, “I am not leaving until you get your lazy self out of bed. If no one

else cares about those children…” On and on she blathered in her shrill voice.

Really, this woman’s tongue flaps like a loose shingle. I could rebuke her in a way she would not soon forget.

Hell, I could kick her cheeky arse out the door, if I choose. But wait. I know another way.
“You say me nay? Be

careful, you may find I am more than you wagered for.”

“Do you threaten me, troll?”

“So be it,” he said, tossing the sheet aside and standing.
How do you like that trollsome part?

Immediately her eyes fixed on a part of his naked body, which was displaying a powerful morning thickening,

standing out like a flagpole. “You, you, you…” she sputtered, but could not seem to raise her eyes, which he

noticed, irrelevantly, were a beautiful shade of green, like summer grass on the moors.

“Do not be offended, m’lady.” He pointed at his nether part. “
This
is not for you. Your virtue is not forfeit…from

this quarter. ’Tis just that I must needs visit the garderobe.”

“What an insufferable, crude, arrogant, loathsome lout!” she exclaimed as she sailed through the doorway,

where the crowd had magically parted like the Red Sea of Biblical lore.

“Damn, but it is good to be home, is it not, Caedmon?” Geoff inquired sweetly, then ducked just in time to

miss the pillow he sent his way.

A short time later, Caedmon realized he had one more thing to add to his list of things to do today: Get rid of

princesses.

princesses.

Coming March 2010

The Vampire and the Virgin

from
New York Times
bestselling author

Kerrelyn Sparks’s

Love at Stake series

After doing battle with evil vampires intent on world domination, Robby MacKay is in dire need of a vacation.

And calm, cool nights on a tropical island are exactly what the doctor ordered…but there’s nothing cool about

Olivia Sotiris. Also on vacation, the very sexy, very hot psychologist can make Robby’s eyebrows singe with just

one look. Soon, those nights aren’t calm or cool…

O
livia rested her elbows on the patio wall and gazed at the beach below. A breeze swept a tendril of hair across

her face, and she shoved it aside. Most of her long hair was secured on the back of her head with a big claw

clip, but as usual, there were always a few unruly strands that managed to escape.

She took a deep breath, savoring her solitude. There were times, like during the party that evening, when the

constant bombardment of everyone’s emotions became hard to bear. It would feel like she was drowning, her

own emotions submerged under the flood of those around her, to the point that she feared losing herself

entirely. She’d learned over the years to handle it, but still, every now and then, she had to escape the

maddening crowd.

Being an empath had certainly helped her with her job. Unfortunately, her unique abilities had also caused

the monster to become obsessed with her.
Don’t think about him. You’re safe here.

A movement far to the left caught her eye. She focused on a grove of tamarisk trees but only saw them

swaying with a breeze. Nothing strange there.

Then she saw him. A lone figure emerging from the dark shadow of the trees. He was jogging along the

beach. At this time of night? He reached a clear, sandy expanse where the moon shone brightly, and Olivia

forgot to breathe.

His body was beautiful and she suspected his face was, too, but it was hard to tell at this distance. Dressed

in dark jogging shorts and a plain white T-shirt, he moved quickly and easily along the beach. His skin seemed

pale, but that could be caused by the moonlight.

She sucked in a deep breath as he came closer. He was a big man. His T-shirt was stretched across