In the Heat of the Bite (5 page)

The old man sighed. “For years I thought the same. And all I ended up with were two daughters. Lovely girls, don’t get me wrong, but they can hardly carry on the family name. You don’t realize such things are important until it’s too late.”

Matthew studied his old friend. His eyes took in each wrinkle on Sir Ralph’s face and even the slight shake to his hand. “Nonsense,” Matthew said with more levity than he felt at the moment. “You look like a young buck. I’m sure you could sire sons well into your nineties.” At least that’s what Ralph had often boasted in his younger days.

The baronet laughed heartily. “You are so very like your grandfather, young man. I’m certain he would have been very proud of you.”

“Well, thank you, sir,” Matthew returned with sincerity. Then he spotted his quarry behind Sir Ralph. Alec MacQuarrie stood at the entrance of one of the darkened walks. Matthew watched as the Scot wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. Bloody hell. What had he done now?

Matthew’s migraine pounded harder.

“Are you all right, Blodswell?” Sir Ralph stepped closer to him.

“I, uh, just spotted a friend.”

Sir Ralph looked over his shoulder in the direction Matthew glared. The movement, or perhaps the rage that rolled off Matthew’s person, caught MacQuarrie’s attention. He nodded his head in greeting and slowly made his way to the pair, tipping his hat at women as he passed them.

“Ah, Lord Blodswell, what a surprise to see you here.” MacQuarrie smiled.

“I’m certain it is,” Matthew clipped out, “since I was supposed to meet you somewhere else entirely.”

The damned Scot didn’t even have the good grace to look halfway apologetic. “Well, how fortuitous to see you here instead.” Then he turned his attention to Sir Ralph. “Alec MacQuarrie,” he introduced himself.

Sir Ralph smiled. “MacQuarrie? If I’m not mistaken, you are a friend of my son-in-law, Pickering.”

MacQuarrie nodded. “Aye, I attended Cambridge with Pickering.”

Pickering?
Dread filled Matthew’s soul as Caitrin Eynsford’s prediction echoed in his mind. Damn it to hell, he was
not
going to a ball tomorrow night. He just wouldn’t do it.

“Sir Ralph Smyth,” the old man said, offering his hand to MacQuarrie. “My daughter is hosting a ball tomorrow evening. You should stop by to save poor Pickering from all of his duties. I feel safe in saying he will thank you profusely.”

MacQuarrie glanced briefly in Matthew’s direction. He shook his head in warning, which of course, the infernal Scot paid no attention to. “It’s been so long since I’ve attended a ball. Poor Pickering, indeed. Do tell him Cambridge men must stick together. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Wonderful!” Sir Ralph gushed. “And do make sure you drag Blodswell with you. I have a duty to his grandfather to fulfill.”

A look of confusion crossed MacQuarrie’s face, but he nodded. “Of course, sir.”

“Very well.” Sir Ralph turned to leave. “My wife is here somewhere. I really should get back to her before she calls the watch to find me.”

As soon as the man was out of earshot, MacQuarrie cocked his head to one side, regarding Matthew curiously. “What exactly does that man owe your
grandfather
? He’s old, but he can’t be that old.”

Matthew glared at his charge. “What the devil are you doing here? You were supposed to remain at
Brysi
.”

The Scot shrugged. “I haven’t had a nursemaid since I was a boy, Blodswell. I don’t need one now.”

All things considered, MacQuarrie was still a boy; but this was hardly the place for that discussion. “What exactly were you doing down that unlit walk?” Matthew raised his brow expectantly.

“I was being the man you created me to be.”

It took all of Matthew’s strength not to grab MacQuarrie by the jacket and toss him into the Thames. But the sot would probably just float his way into another boatload of trouble.

“I didn’t make you so you could accost unsuspecting women at Vauxhall. In case you’ve forgotten, Alec, I made you because it was that or let you die by the frozen waters of Loch Calavie.” He shot MacQuarrie his darkest stare. “And because you asked me to save you.”

The Scot snorted. “My memory is a bit foggy on all that.” MacQuarrie took a step toward Matthew, a frown marring his face. “Why do you smell like Caitrin Macleod?”

Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. This was the last conversation he wanted to have. “
Lady Eynsford
touched my arm when I made certain her little weather-disturbing sister witch made it to Thorpe House in one piece.”

“Rhiannon’s in Town?”

“You know her?” Matthew asked before he could stop himself.

“The better question, Blodswell, is how do
you
know her?”

“I’d hardly say I know her. I
met
the chit when she was throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of Hyde Park.” A grin tugged at the corner of his lips, no matter how much he wished it didn’t.

“You know, all those years I just assumed she loved the elements,” MacQuarrie lamented.

“She
is
the elements,” Matthew grunted. And a bloody beautiful one at that. “What do you know of her?”

MacQuarrie’s eyes danced with pleasure at Matthew’s discomfort. Yet the Scot said firmly, “I know she’s too bloody good for the likes of one of us.”

Well, he wasn’t asking to marry the chit. Still, he didn’t like the tone in MacQuarrie’s voice. “What is that supposed to mean?” Matthew ground out.

“It means that you had best stay clear of Miss Sinclair while she’s in Town.”

“Indeed? And is that a warning?” Certainly, the young man didn’t want to test his mettle against Matthew. He had to be smarter than that, Cambridge man and all.

“Take it as you will. But I’ll not allow you to hurt her. And if you even
think
of partaking of any little piece of her, blood or otherwise, I’ll stop at nothing to prevent it. Those women are like family to me. All five of them.”

“Even Lady Eynsford?” Matthew couldn’t keep from goading him.

The Scot’s jaw tightened. “Even Cait,” he mumbled.

Matthew laid his hand on Alec’s shoulder and squeezed. “The lady you were in the shadows with when I arrived—I feel certain she has men in her life, men who feel just as protective over her as you do those five women. Brothers? A father? So, keep that in mind the next time you decide to enchant your next meal. Choose someone who won’t be sullied by it.”

“She’ll not even remember it tomorrow,” MacQuarrie grunted.

“If that’s the case, why do you feel as though someone like me is not nearly good enough for Miss Sinclair?”

The Scot’s black eyes narrowed. Then he nodded tightly.

“If you’re in need of a meal, we can go back to
Brysi
,” Matthew suggested.

“I’m fine,” Alec said as he adjusted his jacket and stood a little taller. “I’ve been locked up too long. I’d like to see the fireworks.”

A curvy blond walked close by and immediately caught the Scot’s attention. Matthew punched his arm none too gently and pointed toward the sky. “Those fireworks, lad. Not the other kind.”

MacQuarrie grinned sheepishly and followed Matthew into the dark night. The youngster couldn’t be trusted to be on his own. Which meant Matthew not only had to endure the boom and crashing of fireworks despite his headache, he also had to attend a ball. A bloody ball. One where he would be forced to keep a watchful eye on Alec MacQuarrie, or else the Scot would land them all in the middle of an entirely different kind of storm.

“I canna believe ye talked me inta wearin’ this,” Rhiannon grumbled as she tugged at the bodice of Cait’s borrowed ball gown. There simply wasn’t enough of it. Not nearly enough.

Caitrin giggled, and her husband avoided looking across the coach at Rhiannon. His eyes were everywhere else. Out the window. On the ceiling. Staring at his Hessians. If that wasn’t a sure sign she was indecently exposed, what was?

“It looks better on ye than it ever has on me,” Cait admitted. “Does she no’ look lovely, dear?” she asked of her husband.

His noncommittal grunt was his only response.

Cait elbowed him in his side. “Dash!” she scolded. “Tell Rhiannon how wonderful she looks.”

The Lycan sighed loudly. Then he finally allowed his gaze to dance across Rhiannon’s dress. “If you plan to force me to assess Miss Sinclair’s cleavage, then yes, she looks… abundant. I mean abundantly beautiful.” He leaned over and kissed Cait’s cheek, lingering briefly to nuzzle her cheek.

“I told ye.” Rhiannon sighed as she sank back against the squabs. “It’s no’ decent.”

“Stir a little wind, Rhi. Yer embarassment’s makin’ it hot in here.” Cait fanned her face. Then she scolded her husband. “And ye need ta behave yerself, Dash.”

“I have a feeling I’ll have a whole night of behaving myself as I try to protect Miss Sinclair’s honor. The men will be on her like hounds on a bone when they see her, and that’s not even including my brothers.”

Cait rolled her eyes. “Ye have so little faith in them. I’ll have ye ken, all three Hadley men have promised ta be their most gentlemanly this evenin’.”

The marquess laughed. “That hardly means anything, Cait, and it means even less when Miss Sinclair looks like
that
.”

Cait turned her attention back to Rhiannon. “Just think, ye could meet the man of yer dreams tonight,” she gushed. Such a romantic. But then Cait sat back against the seat and smirked as though she was the cat who ate the cream. “Or perhaps ye’ve already met him.”

“Doona go peekin’ inta my future, Cait!” Rhiannon cried.

“I wasna lookin’ inta yer future. I was makin’ an educated guess.” Cait harrumphed. She patted her husband’s knee. “Ye’ll want ta get her some of that special punch as soon as we arrive, Dash. Otherwise, she’ll be a bundle of nerves and her powers will go off all over the place.”

“And getting her foxed will help with that?” He raised his eyebrows at Cait’s ludicrous suggestion.

“Of course,” she said primly.

The coach rambled to a stop, and Rhiannon forced herself to take several deep breaths as she was presented to the Pickerings. Though they were only fashionably late, the ball was already in full swing. Couples were already dancing, and women fanned themselves from exertion. Rhi glanced around, looking for Aunt Greer and Ginny.

“Do ye see them?” Cait asked as she tugged at her sleeve.

Rhiannon just shook her head. “No’ yet.” She saw everything else, however. London was quite different from Edinburgh. She’d heard the term “a crush” before, but she’d never actually seen one. Throngs of twittering girls gathered together, as did young bucks, more dignified gentlemen, and a contingent of older women who seemed more intimidating than the whole of the French army. Rhi gulped. How would she ever find Ginny here?

“Perfect,” the marquess grumbled under his breath.

Rhi shifted her gaze to Eynsford. “What’s the matter, dear?” Cait asked.

“That ol’ dragon just looked this way. There’ll be no avoiding her now.”

Rhi glanced over the crowd and spotted the woman Eynsford must have meant. She was as regal as she was aged. She wore an unpleasant snarl on her face and a large, purple ostrich feather in her turban that was almost as tall as she was. And the woman in question was glaring in their direction. “Who is she?”

“The Duchess of Hythe,” he groaned. “She and her decrepit husband were friends of my father’s. All things being equal, I’d just as soon never lay eyes on Her Grace again.”

Rhi could see his point. The duchess seemed formidable indeed.

“She was a friend of yer father’s?” Cait asked. “Ye should introduce me ta her.”

“There are a lot of things I
should
do,” Eynsford replied. “And yet, I’ll avoid it just the same.”

“She canna be that bad,” Cait insisted.

“I believe you made a similar prediction about my father, love. I assure you she can be that bad, and she is. Her opinion can make or break someone.”

Cait giggled. “Then there’s nothin’ ta worry about. Everyone adores me.”

“
Men
adore you,” the marquess informed her. “I’ve not seen the same devotion from women, unless they’re of the witchy variety.”

Rhi would rather avoid this conversation if possible. Besides, she couldn’t spot Ginny from her current position. “I’ll just take a stroll about the room and see if I can find my sister.”

“I think not, Miss Sinclair,” Eynsford said quietly, a low rumble in his voice. “Not unattended at any rate.”

“It’s a good thing she’ll not be unattended then, isn’t it, Eynsford?” a familiar voice said from behind them. Rhiannon looked up into the smiling face of Alec MacQuarrie. He held out a hand to the marquess and laughed as the Lycan scowled at him.

“I can’t imagine what you’re doing here,” Eynsford grunted. Everyone knew there was no love lost between the two as they’d both vied for Cait’s hand. But her hand wasn’t what was important, because it was quite obvious who had her heart.

“Lady Eynsford,” Alec said respectfully, with a small bow. However he never looked Cait in the eye. And there was tension about his mouth that wasn’t normally there. Clearly, he was still hurting. Rhiannon placed a hand on Alec’s sleeve. It wasn’t until he smiled down at her, his black eyes glittering beneath the chandelier light, that she realized he was most assuredly different, and her hand dropped from his arm. “Are you quite all right?” he asked pleasantly, but the lines around his mouth deepened.