stare. “I hear that’s the way of it when one has imbibed too much.”
Radbourne snorted. “He doesn’t smell like drink.”
Sorcha wanted to slap her own forehead. Of course a man with a heightened sense of smell would know whether or not Johnny had been imbibing. Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.
“Then perhaps it was something he ate?” she tried.
“Or some scheme conjured up in your mind?” he chuckled. “What shall we do with him?”
She searched around the darkness. “We can’t just leave him here in the street.” She looked up at Lord Radbourne with what she hoped was her most bewitching smile. “Will ye help me get him inta the coach?”
The Lycan groaned loudly as he hoisted the unconscious groom into the coach. Her mother hadn’t lived long enough to teach Sorcha the right way or wrong way to catch a Lycan, but something told her this was the wrong way.
“That was a bit like moving a dead body,” Lord Radbourne mumbled as he dusted his hands and stepped out of the coach.
“Ye’ve moved a dead body before?” Sorcha gasped.
He chuckled. “That’s a discussion for when I know you better, Miss Ferguson.” His gaze drifted slowly down her body. “Much better.”
Sorcha was certain that she would be ten shades of red if not for the darkness that hid them both. She took a deep breath. Then she blurted, “And how long will that take, Lord Radbourne?”
His eyebrows rose in question as the corners of his lips twitched. There was a very long pause during which Sorcha questioned the brashness of her words. He’d probably think her an untried youth out to snag a handsome peer. “It would take just long enough for Eynsford to realize my intentions. Then he’d trounce me. And Cait would feel obliged to come to my rescue. And then all hope would be lost for you and me.”
Sorcha giggled at his words.
“So, Miss Ferguson, what shall we do now?” he asked, appearing to be most intrigued by her plight. “I can escort you back to Castle Hythe.”
So close. She’d been so close to catching a Lycan. But by her own foolish actions, she’d forced the man to move a body, which in turn had probably made him lose any interest he might have had in her.
She motioned toward the closed carriage. “I suppose I’ll just wait for Johnny ta wake.” She kicked at a clump of dirt with her toe. “Ye should go back ta yer pursuits, whatever they may be.” Then beneath her breath she added, “Or whomever they may involve.”
“You make it sound as though I slay pretty lasses with my witty repartee on a daily basis, Miss Ferguson.”
Sorcha couldn’t hold back a groan. When would she remember that Lycans could hear every mutter she made?
Every comment she tossed out under her breath went straight to their ears. “Why do I always forget about their impeccable hearing?” she asked herself. Since she was already talking to herself like a ninny, she would probably be safe to continue. “He’s listening right now, in fact, though how he can hear me over that atrociously sized foot in my mouth, I’ve no idea. I had no idea Lycans were that astute.”
“Pardon me, Miss Ferguson,” Lord Radbourne said, standing taller as he appeared to sober before her very eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t bandy that little fact about in such a cavalier manner. It’s a well-kept secret. One I was unaware you knew about.”
“Oh, doona worry. I have secrets of my own that I’d no’ like ta be bandied about. The fact that ye are what ye are is no’ somethin’ I would discuss with anyone else. Ye have my word on it.”
For some reason, she felt the need to reassure him.
Probably because he looked so discomfited by the fact that she knew. She reached a hand up to smooth his lapel. And let it linger there as her eyes sought his. She needed him to understand that she would never, ever tell.
Chapter Four
Alec MacQuarrie stepped out of the tavern and looked up at the night sky. He’d needed only moments of surveying the taproom to realize that an adequate dinner would not be possible tonight. At least not at The Knight’s Arms. Being a vampyre was a damned nuisance, especially when one was a gentleman beneath all the darkness.
Life would be so much easier if he had fewer scruples, or perhaps if he had the ability to block out the feelings of the whore who was to be