His Ruthless Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 4) (11 page)

“You’ve been seen visiting Aylesford without permission on three occasions,” Rochester said in a dangerous, silky voice. “Do you deny it?”

Myrtle opened her mouth and for a moment it looked like she would lie, but then she sighed and nodded. “No, my lord,” she said sullenly. “I am guilty.”

He nodded curtly before turning to his second and third in command. “Seize her and take her to my dungeon to be questioned further.”

The other vampires gasped and muttered as the vampire was hauled off. “Please, my lord, have mercy! I can explain!”

Lenore suppressed a shudder as the captive vampire’s pleas faded away.

Gone was the kind, laughing vampire she’d been running with. Gone was the handsome suitor who’d called her beautiful and kissed her. In his place was Ruthless Rochester and she now saw where he’d acquired that moniker.

Rochester turned back to the gathering of vampires. “There is one more matter to address before this meeting is adjourned.” A foreboding expression shrouded his already stern countenance. “I’ve heard word of an organized band of rogues in the area. “Has anyone seen or heard anything of them?”

As the vampires shook their heads, Lenore’s heart thudded in her throat.
Rogues!
She clenched her jaw tight to keep her teeth from chattering and to hold back a scream. Once more the memories of the rogues seizing her crashed through her mind. Their cruel hands upon her body, being chained, beaten, starved, and raped.
Oh God, what if it happens to me again? Or what if another vampire is captured? What if—

Rochester’s thumb stroked her arm in a soothing rhythm as he continued to address his people. “I want you all to keep a close eye out and report any suspicious sightings to me straightaway. I also advise you to try to hunt in pairs until further notice. Rogues can be very dangerous when they form a pack. If you encounter even one, do not attempt to engage them in combat. Run straight to me, Benson or Cecil and inform us.”

His people nodded and Rochester’s features softened slightly. “Good. Enough with the unpleasantness, I will now adjourn the official meeting. Wine and tea will be served in the old great hall while you have an opportunity to become better acquainted with our new vampire. If any of you have any concerns, you may voice them now, or approach me privately.”

Everyone bowed and Rochester led her up another set of stairs to a vast stone chamber with trestle tables and rotting tapestries. Two tables were covered with snowy cloths and held glasses and decanters of wine as well as a tray of small biscuits.

Lenore accepted a glass that Rochester’s second in command brought her, but declined any biscuits. She’d learned her lesson.

A few vampires approached her with genuine warmth, while others, mostly older females, gave her forced greetings and sauntered off to whisper amongst themselves, doubtless nothing friendly. Lenore couldn’t think badly of them. It was understandable for them to be angry that a weak youngling held a higher status than them, and an outsider at that.

However, they were her people now, so she would have to learn to get on with them. Besides, she was pleasantly surprised and grateful that so many did accept her.

A voluptuous female vampire with a cap of yellow curls eyed her over the rim of her wineglass. “Well, you’ve certainly arrived during interesting times. An arrest and rogues all in one night.
Rogues
. Can you imagine? They hardly ever group together, and most know better than to venture anywhere near here. Ruthless Rochester despises their sort.”

Lenore nodded and gave the only proper response. “I am sure our lord will deal with them accordingly.” And she was. Gavin’s hatred for rogues was apparent from the night they first met. Perhaps his ruthlessness would be a good thing in this case.

As long as he did not turn it on her.

Gavin frowned as he escorted Lenore and Elena home. His bride to be had been silent throughout the entire walk. He hadn’t missed the fear in her large brown eyes when he’d arrested Myrtle. A semblance of guilt niggled at him, but he shook it off. No, he had to maintain his strict rule. He couldn’t be allowed to show weakness just to appease her delicate sensibilities, and she would have to grow accustomed to that fact.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Myrtle would be executed, or anything so severe. Unless she was committing a serious crime. And he highly doubted that was the case. Usually when vampires crossed over into another territory, it was either because they’d developed a fondness for another vampire, or because there was a market or entertaining party they wanted to attend. He’d turned a blind eye to Myrtle’s wanderings the first two times, but the third time, he had to punish her, lest all of his vampires decide that they could go wandering without consequences. He couldn’t afford to have one of his people taken for a rogue because they had no writ of passage, or worse, for another Lord to accuse him of sending spies… which of course he did from time to time, but not in such a clumsy manner.

Too soon, they arrived at Elena’s door. Gavin wished he could spend more time with Lenore, maybe accompany her hunting, but he had duties to fulfill before dawn.

“I must leave you now.” He bowed. “Will I see you at Lady Stoat’s musicale tomorrow evening?”

“Yes,” Lenore replied softly as she curtsied.

He took her hand. “I shall count the hours.” Bending down, he kissed her knuckles, gratified to see her cheeks flush a delicate pink.

He wished he could kiss more of her.

The severity of the wish startled him. He turned away before she saw the raw desire in his eyes. No need to frighten her further.

Gavin sighed. He needed a woman. It had been months since he’d enjoyed a good tumble. Unfortunately he had little time for such a triviality. Even if he did, he hadn’t encountered one who appealed to him in some time, and he was not the type to visit a whore.

No, he enjoyed the chase. Unfortunately, the one he most wanted to chase had no interest in becoming caught.

And yet, Lenore allowed him to kiss her earlier.

Memories of the warmth of her mouth against his flickered through his mind like a candle flame that refused to dim, the feel of the soft curves and arches of her lips, her subtle, yet heady taste.

Could there be hope that she’d overcome her fear of a male’s touch? Her fear of
his
touch? Could she one day allow him to hold her in his arms and show her how pleasurable intimacy could be?

Hot lust coursed through his veins at the thought before shame quenched the flame. He’d promised her that he wouldn’t touch her. Was he such a monster as to ponder going back on his word?

Gavin quickened his pace. Hopefully a run would cool his mad musings. Making his way to the nearest inn, he fed on the first drunkard he stumbled across. The blood eased hunger in his belly but did nothing for his other craving.

By the time he made his way back to his manor, his mood had turned sour like wine turned to vinegar. Making his way down the hidden staircase to the dungeon where he held recalcitrant vampires, Gavin surveyed Myrtle’s stricken face. Benson and Cecil had chained her securely, though they gave her enough slack so she could walk the length of her cell. A glass of wine sat on the table untouched.

“I’m so sorry, my lord, please,” she whimpered, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t kill me.”

Gavin sat in a high-backed chair outside the cell which was used when a guard was necessary. “That depends on what you have to say for yourself, Myrtle. What were you doing in Aylesford? That’s part of the Lord of Maidstone’s territory, you know that.”

Her blue eyes brimmed with tears. “I know, my lord. But I met a man and—”

“Human or vampire?” he asked sharply.

“Vampire,” she answered quickly.

Gavin’s shoulders relaxed with a measure of relief. The last thing he needed was to contend with one of his people falling in love with a mortal… again.

“And why didn’t you ask me for a writ of passage?” he pressed.

“The first time I hadn’t meant to go there. I was hunting and lost track of how far he walked.” Myrtle twisted her fingers together, wincing at the clank of her chains. “And that is where I met Jack. We finished the hunt together and talked until it was nearly dawn.” Her eyes turned distant and wistful. “He asked me to meet with him the following night, and I know I should have asked you for permission then, but I didn’t want to trouble you or explain too much when I wasn’t certain I would like Jack enough to want to keep visiting him. And from all the stories he’d heard about you… well, begging your pardon, my lord, but he was too afraid to come here.”

Gavin stroked his chin. “I see… but what about the third night?”

Myrtle fidgeted in her seat. “I did try to seek you out for a writ of passage then, but you were away at a ball and…” She hung her head, shamed and chastened. “I didn’t want to wait.”

“Your impatience has a price, I’m afraid. I will have to punish you.” As tears filled Myrtle’s eyes, he continued. “If Maidstone had caught you gallivanting on his lands without permission, I would have been held liable. We already dislike each other, and you could have compounded the problem.”

Gavin allowed her to sob a moment, utterly implacable. Tears did not move him, and they never would.

“I’m sorry, my lord I—”

He held up a hand. “You will spend a month imprisoned. Benson will bring you one meal a night. After you’re released, I’ll give you a writ of passage, and someday I may even ask Maidstone if you may move to his lands, if you prove yourself repentant.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Thank you, my lord! You are a true noble to have such mercy, you—”

“I wasn’t finished.” Gavin snapped. “If you ever disobey me again, you’ll be exiled, or worse. Do I make myself clear?”

Myrtle hunched over and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

He left her and headed up to his study, pouring himself a draught of brandy from the Lord of Cornwall’s stores. He should report the incident to Maidstone. It was only right to inform him that he’d had a trespasser and should keep closer watch on his borders. However, he really didn’t care for the pompous, up-jumped squire of a vampire.

Besides, there were other trespassers to be concerned with. Taking a sip of the liquor, he sighed and took up his quill.

After composing four identical letters, as well as a longer one to the Lord of London, Gavin informed all of his neighboring Lords about the band of rogues and promised to send word if they were seen near any of their lands, though he hoped to capture and eradicate them himself. To Lord Villar, he also added a brief report about Lenore.

Miss Graves and I shall be wed in two months. For now she remains under the care of Elena, one of my most respected vampires and quickly on her way to becoming a grand lady. She smiles more every night.

Gavin paused, nearly dripping ink on the parchment. Now why did he write that?

He smirked and leaned back in his chair. To teach that arrogant son of a bitch that his accusations were ludicrous. What other reason would there be?

***

Rochester’s courtship of Lenore flew by like a dervish. After the musicale, he began escorting her to every ball and supper until whispers roared from the rafters everywhere they went. The message was imminently clear that the Baron of Darkwood had an interest in Miss Graves.

Some of the gossip Lenore’s sensitive ears picked up consisted of bitter ruminations that a plain-faced tradesman’s daughter was an inferior choice for His Lordship. And that their noble daughters were far more deserving.

Other talk was far more malicious, inferring that Darkwood had less than noble intentions towards Lenore and that she would be ruined within the fortnight. At first their vicious words stung, until she heard Elena’s unbridled laughter.

“Their envy amuses me to no end. As if Rochester would waste his time on any of them.” She continued to chuckle beneath her fan. “But I cannot believe they have the gall to call you plain. Do they not possess mirrors?”

Lenore laughed lightly behind her own fan, warmed by the vampire’s support. “You are too kind, Elena.” Truly she was plain, her mother had assured her of that fact quite frequently.

“Tell me,” Elena’s eyes sparkled with mischief, “which one do you want to sink your fangs into tonight? I’m inclined to feast on Lady Chattertton, but it is only fair that you have the first choice as it is your character being maligned.”

“You may have the lady,” Lenore whispered with a smirk. “I want to bite her viper of a daughter. She tried to trip me on the dance floor earlier. If only she knew what I was sparing her from.”

Elena raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, being a vampire can be a trial. I imagine she’d miss her morning rides. And to abandon her romantic dreams to play a role.” Some dull ache throbbed in her chest at the words, though she couldn’t discern why.

Elena sniffed. “Mortal wives have to play a role as well. There’s no difference.” She smiled over the lace edge of her fan. “Though you do have a point. Yes, Miss Chatterton
would
make a horrid vampire. And His Lordship would not be able to tolerate her, I would imagine. He will be much kinder to you. Ah, and here he comes to claim another dance.”