Blood Fire (21 page)

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Authors: Sharon Page

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Blood Fire
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As did Matthew. De Wynter had shown him how to rouse himself from the day sleep, so they could travel in the afternoon, as long as they were protected. As a vampire, Matthew didn’t feel the cold of the November evening, but he had to protect himself from sunlight.
He frowned, studying the simple, square brick house and the snow-crusted garden out front. The vampire queens had agreed to give him one advantage in his hunt—they had given him the ability to sense Octavia. He could almost smell where she was, even when miles away—and that had aroused him beyond belief.
Using his new, magical awareness of her, he had followed her here, to the small village of Layton in Hertfordshire, but he had no idea why she had come here.
His heart pounded; his palms were damp with nervousness. In minutes he would see her again.
He missed her. Had she had their baby? Had the birth gone safely?
Once he’d felt anger when he thought of how he had been cheated out of holding his newborn. Now all he wanted to know was that both Octavia and the baby were safe and well. He was a vampire—how in Hades could he be a father now? The only way he could be a father to a child was to get free of this curse.
That meant winning his wife’s heart.
He tied the reins of his horse, Demon, to a gatepost, then walked up to one of the front windows, taking care as he paced through the slumbering garden. His hands shook with nerves. Through the panes of glass, he saw several people, seated and talking. He crouched by the window and looked in. Here he was: a vampire, one shrouded in a cloak so he wouldn’t burn to a crisp in the late afternoon sun, and he was taking great care not to put his boot on any of the dormant plants.
Through the window, he saw his runaway wife.
He had expected . . . He hadn’t known what to expect. Not Octavia’s fashionable gown of bronze silk, with its neckline that hinted at the swell of voluptuous breasts, or the elegant turban with tall feathers. Poised elegantly on a chair, she exuded wealth and power. As far as he knew, she had run away from her home with nothing. Where had she gotten the money for clothing? Had it been from Mrs. Darkwell?
Given that she was a succubus and needed to seduce men to survive, had she become a man’s mistress?
Something gave a loud
crack,
and he felt it jab his hand. He’d snapped his riding crop in two.
Suddenly, Octavia jumped up from the seat. Despite her straight spine, her hands shook. The country lady also swiftly stood, but Octavia waved her hand as though waving concern away. Using his vampire senses, he could hear what his wife said through the window.
“I was wrong,” she whispered hoarsely. “I apologize for my accusations, but I have been desperate to find my child.”
Find
their child? Shock speared Matthew, and he straightened with a jerk.
“But my lady,” said the country lady, “if you are in danger, is it not better the baby is with a family and will be safe?”
She had given their child away? He was stunned into immobility. Then Octavia scrubbed her glove across her cheek. Was she brushing tears?
The woman squeezed Octavia’s shoulders. “My lady, I think it would be wise for you to give up the search. The family who has taken your daughter will love her and take good care of her. Mrs. Darkwell chose only families who would welcome and love a child. We desperately wanted children but could not have our own. We have raised many of her charges—babies of the young ladies she trains and cares for. Your child will have grown to think of that family as hers. Is it not better your child is with a family and will be respect—?”
“I am not like Mrs. Darkwell’s other women,” Octavia interrupted. “I am married.”
The woman looked startled. “You are? Oh, I beg your pardon, my lady; I did not realize.”
“I know. Most of the women who are with Mrs. Darkwell are not married.”
“But why is your husband not looking after both you and your child?”
Why indeed, Matthew thought darkly.
“My husband cannot accept what I am. And I don’t believe my daughter is better off or safer with strangers.” Tears broke free and fell to his wife’s cheeks. “It has only been days. Surely my baby will not forget me so quickly.”
He seethed with frustration. Why did she not see that he did accept what she was, that he was willing to live with it, as long as he could keep her safe and his alone? He left the window, and he’d reached the small stone path when the front door flew open. Octavia rushed out, her hands in fists. She might be crying, but she looked more determined than he’d ever seen her. She wore a fur-trimmed cloak.
“Octavia.”
She stopped, whirled. As she saw him her eyes widened, then narrowed. She looked as if she’d like to drive a spear through his heart.
How had he ever thought she’d obediently marry him and obey him? Every moment of his life—or his undead existence—was going to be like this. A battle. With her glaring at him.
Madness to want it.
Anyway, how was he going to win this angry woman’s heart?
“What are you doing here?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Her chest was considerably more ample than it had been. Her breasts were lushly round and generous, swelling delectably over her scooped bodice.
“I would appreciate it if you met my gaze,” she snapped.
He obeyed, jerking his gaze up, until he was speared by her glare. “I came here for you, Octavia. I offered you protection; I intended to take care of you, and you ran away. I’ve been worried about you.”
She stopped glaring. And rolled her eyes. “You offered me a future of loneliness, locked away in your most remote estate.” She gave a quick glance at the paned windows, where he’d just been eavesdropping. But the woman of the house had not pursued Octavia. His wife’s lower lip wobbled. “All because I am a witch,” she whispered. “It is not my fault. Your idea proved itself idiotic—I’ve learned how to control my . . . well, what it is that I can do.”
“A witch? Octavia, you’re a—”
“Good afternoon, Lady Sutcliffe. It is a delight to see you again.”
Damn De Wynter. Why had he chosen this moment to interrupt them?
He swept a flourishing bow to Octavia. “Sutcliffe, why not escort your lovely wife to her carriage? Perhaps we could all dine together at the inn in the village? It would be a more conducive setting for a discussion than someone’s garden.”
“I am staying at the inn,” Octavia said. “But I do not know if we have anything to speak of.”
“Yes,” Matthew began, “We do—”
“Yes, your husband has to begin apologizing for his high-handed behavior,” De Wynter broke in.
Matthew was going to sputter out a retort in his defense, when he saw a small smile curve Octavia’s lips. Since he was supposed to work to win her heart, he assumed he was better off keeping his mouth shut.
“All right. Meet me at the inn, Octavia. Dine with me, and I promise I’ll start groveling.”
She looked startled, but she nodded. The sun had dipped below the trees that lined the horizon, so he no longer had to worry about direct sunlight. “I will escort you to your carriage.”
“No. No, don’t. I need some time to think before I speak with you. We will talk at the inn.”
Hades, she was his wife. He had been hunting for her; she was in danger. She did not just tell him to heel when he needed to be with her. He needed to know what had happened to their child. Their
daughter
. He had a baby girl, and how did she expect him to damn well wait?
Let her go, Sutcliffe. We need to speak alone first.
De Wynter spoke in his thoughts.
It’s important.
Nothing is more important than knowing she is safe and knowing where the baby is.
This is, Sutcliffe. Trust me.
Tightening his fists by his hips, he watched Octavia walk away. Seconds later, he heard her speak to the coachman, heard the creak of the door, of the steps, then the clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels on the frosty ground.
“I looked inside her thoughts, Sutcliffe,” De Wynter said. “Let’s ride to the inn and talk about it.”
But Matthew grasped the vampire by the shoulder. “You saw inside her thoughts?”
“Vampires can do that. See thoughts and push our will onto people. But not with people we love. Their thoughts are blocked to us. So if you can’t see into your wife’s thoughts, it means the two of you are in love. I assume there is more happiness in a marriage when a husband and wife don’t know each other’s thoughts. It’s easy enough to say something one regrets, and a lot easier to think it.”
“I don’t want you looking into her thoughts,” he barked. Then he paused. “What was she thinking about? What did you see in her thoughts about our child?”
“Apparently, Mrs. Darkwell took the child for its protection, but she does not agree with the idea.”
“This woman took an earl’s child?” Matthew sputtered.
“Your wife is being hunted, and the woman believed it was for the child’s safety.”
“Damnation.”
“Calm yourself. You have to charm your wife, remember. Also, Lady Sutcliffe thinks she is a witch. I believe she has no idea she’s a succubus.”
“I should tell—”
“Don’t tell her, Sutcliffe. She is a gently bred woman. The fact that she is supposed to steal men’s souls through sex is not something she needs to know. It will be shocking and painful.”
“We—we have to face it sometime.”
“Win her heart and her trust first,” De Wynter said. “Remember, she needs to have sex to survive. You have to keep her satisfied. In addition it may help her fall in love with you. If you do a good job in bed.”
Matthew scowled. “I always do a good job in bed.”
 
He saw her in the yard of the inn, stepping down from the carriage. Matthew dismounted and handed the reins to a young groom, watching his wife stride across the hard ground toward the entrance of the inn. This was madness. She was his wife, but he had no idea how to approach her.
Finally he shook off the sense of awkwardness, and he stalked after her. He caught hold of her wrist as she reached the door. “I will reserve the parlor for dinner,” he said softly. “Come down and join me there. I want to find out what has happened to our daughter. How in heaven’s name could you have let her be taken away?”
Octavia paled. She tried to pull her wrist free, but he wouldn’t loosen his grip. “I had no choice. I was fooled, and then she was taken from me. She is safe, and this was done to ensure she is safe, but I—I want to find her.”
“So you don’t know where she is.”
“I know she is safe,” Octavia hissed, her blue eyes wide with pain. “I know she is with a family. I don’t want to speak of this here, now, Sutcliffe. Let me go.”
“I want to help you search for our child,” he murmured. He moved close to her, so his lips were close enough to kiss. He drank in her warm, fresh lavender scent, and his cock bucked with yearning. His mouth ached to kiss her.
This had to be the vampire in him. Finding his child was the most important thing. He was still angry—how could she not have protected their daughter? He had been denied the chance to do it.
She pulled her arm free. “And when we find her, what will you do? Do you want to imprison us both?”
“Stop glaring at me as though I’m an enemy. I’m not. I want to help you.”
“You don’t want to help, you want to dictate to me. And blame me.”
“This is not about blame—”
“You want to order me about, Sutcliffe. I refuse to be treated like chattel. I know what I am, and if you cannot accept it, I refuse to let you be my jailer.”
She stalked away from him, through the doorway, to the desk of the inn, and she rapped sharply on the bell.
Matthew stayed where he was as the burly innkeeper came out.
Octavia was going to drive him out of his mind. To seduce her, he knew he had to be conciliatory. He couldn’t coax her into bed while they were snapping at each other.
He had to stop feeling anger because his daughter was gone, and work to find the child. He was willing to do that. But Octavia would not let up for an instant. All she wanted to do was fight with him.
He could win her heart much faster if he could be making love to her. Not in dreams, but in reality. Since she was certain their daughter was safe, he believed he could manage to make love; then they would go on their search.
The first times they’d made love, Octavia had propositioned him. Now he had to find out how his wife wanted to be seduced.
 
She was breathing hard, and she felt weak and shaky, but Octavia had enough strength to open the door to the inn’s maid, and eye the bouquet the girl carried with suspicion. It was a collection of evergreens and silvery twigs and ivy leaves. They had obviously been cut from the rambling shrubs that grew around the inn. The greenery smell was lovely.

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