Sorcha, which she readily accepted. She leaned heavily into his side as they started up the stone walkway toward the front door. “Do I look presentable?” she whispered.
“You looked dressed,” he groused. “I quite prefer you the other way, if you must know the truth.” He drew her toward the front door, his steps hurried and anxious. He wanted her. She could tell, and that made her heart pound even faster.
“Will yer servants talk?” she hissed at him.
“They’re not expecting me,” he assured her. “So, I’ll just sneak you upstairs and no one will be the wiser.” He kissed her quickly. “I feel like I’m sixteen years old again,” he admitted and smiled like the old Alec she’d always known.
He slid a key from his pocket and quietly opened the front door. Then he slipped inside, pulling her in along with him. But before he could even take a step, a loud, very obnoxious cough sounded from the corridor. When it happened again, Sorcha couldn’t help but think someone was choking in the hallway.
Alec groaned loudly. “You may come out, Gibson,” he called.
His stoic butler peered around the corner and then bowed. “Mr. MacQuarrie, Miss Ferguson, so glad ye’re home.”
“Are ye all right, Gibson? I can make ye a tonic for that cough,” Sorcha offered.
The butler very gently cleared his throat as though testing it. “I believe I’ll be just fine, miss, but thank ye.”
“You may excuse us, Gibson,” Alec said crisply. That was a bit rude but obviously necessary since the man was lingering.
“I would if I could, sir,” the butler said, his face pained.
“But ye have a guest. A few of them, in fact. And I doona ken what ta do with them.”
“Who might that be?” Alec asked as he pulled his gloves from his fingers and shook out of his coat.
“I doona rightly ken, sir. The man says he’s Mr. Browning. And, uh, he brought his… sisters?” The last part came out as a question.
Charles Browning? Alec leaned back to peer down the corridor and listened closely. He could hear the dulcet tones of an acquaintance of his from London. He listened harder. He could also hear Tillie, a whore from Brysi, the club for vampyres where Alec had previously found sustenance.
“Who is it?” Sorcha whispered. “Do I ken Mr. Browning?”
“No,” he clipped out. And she never would. Not if he could help it. “Let’s go,” he barked, as he dragged her back toward the front door with a tug of his fingers. “Inform my guests that I’ll return shortly,” he growled at Gibson.
The butler blanched at Alec’s tone.
Damn it, what were the chances that a vampyre and a whore they’d both shared for a time would show up at his respectable home in Edinburgh on the very night he arrived home with his intended? Only in his very unlucky world. First Eynsford and now Browning. At this rate, he’d be married to Sorcha for a decade before he had her all to himself.
“You are right, dear!” Charles Browning’s deep voice filtered down the corridor. “MacQuarrie is here, and he’s got a morsel of his own.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sorcha slid from under Alec’s arm to see a tall, auburnhaired man depart a parlor and stride in their direction. His black-as-night eyes told Sorcha more clearly than words that he was a vampyre. Alec’s hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. “Is this a friend of yers?”
At least she assumed he was a friend. The unfamiliar vampyre smiled rakishly and didn’t appear a dangerous sort. “MacQuarrie, I had hoped you’d be here.”
“Browning.” There was a tightness to Alec’s voice and Sorcha cocked her head to one side to better see her intended’s face. “I can’t even imagine what brings you to Edinburgh.”
The English vampyre chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you can. Tillie and I imposed on your staff until your arrival.”
“For how many days?” Alec grumbled.
“Just a few. Do join us in your parlor so we can speak more openly.”
Alec shook his head. “I would love to, but I must return Miss Ferguson to her father’s care.”
But Sorcha had no intention of returning to her father’s side. Not while strange vampyres made themselves at home in MacQuarrie House. Not until she figured out why Alec was suddenly so on edge. “Alec, would ye mind if I had a spot of tea first? I find I’m quite parched from the journey.”
“I’m certain your father has plenty of tea and biscuits awaiting you, lass,” Alec said through gritted teeth.
“No’ if