for opportunities to locate the Lycan she was destined to spend her life with. She sagged against Lord Radbourne’s very hard, very warm chest and closed her eyes, blocking out the dark countryside they passed. Now that she was right where she’d wanted to be for so long—specifically, in the arms of a Lycan—all she could think was that it wasn’t where she belonged at all.
Havers! She’d kissed Alec! Caitrin’s Alec, not that he belonged to her friend, but still she’d always thought of him in those terms. Mo chreach! She’d actually pulled his head down to hers and she’d kissed him. She’d kissed him! What was worse was that she didn’t feel bad about it at all.
At least she didn’t think she did.
On the contrary, it had been heavenly. Her first kiss, and it had been perfect.
Even through the fine lawn of his shirt, she’d felt the muscles of his chest and back with her fingertips, and she’d held on for dear life, clutching him to her, wishing she never had to let him go. But then she had. His voice had seeped into her consciousness, telling her they shouldn’t. And her heart had nearly broken. What a foolish thing to have done! What madness had driven her to kiss Alec MacQuarrie? Of all the men of her acquaintance, she had kissed the one man—no, vampyre—whose heart was irrevocably lost to her or anyone else. It was utter insanity.
“You do seem prone to finding trouble, lass.”
Radbourne’s husky voice broke her from her reverie. His breath warmed her cheek, and Sorcha’s eyes flew open to find the viscount staring down at her with a most concerned expression.
She forced a smile to her lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through her feigned cheerfulness. After all, this was the man she was supposed to be trying to charm, not a brooding vampyre who was incapable of loving her. “I doona ken what ye mean, my lord.”
He refocused on the road before them, fanning his hand across her middle and securing her against him. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean, sweetheart. First, you beguiled a groom who is quite possibly half in love with you and willing to face the wrath of the dragon who is the Duchess of Hythe to win your favor. And then there’s MacQuarrie. Between you, Cait, and Rhiannon, I can’t help but wonder if all you Scottish lasses have the ability to enchant poor men with only the bat of those absurdly long eyelashes.”
Sorcha’s heart leapt to her throat. Alec? Could she enchant him? Had Radbourne possibly seen some sign of affection, some sign that Alec had felt a bit of what she’d experienced in his arms? Was that too much to hope for?
“MacQuarrie?” she echoed, hoping her voice hadn’t cracked on Alec’s name.
A grin quirked on Radbourne’s face and he glanced down, only briefly, to catch her gaze. He was a striking man with those dark amber eyes and that strong chin. Why wasn’t she swooning just from being in his company? From being held so closely to him and inhaling his woodsy scent?
From feeling his warmth penetrate through her pelisse and the gown that was hiked up to her knees to sit astride his horse? Lord Radbourne was the embodiment of what she’d dreamt about since she met her first Lycan. With only the bat of her eyes, she could try to enchant him as he’d suggested, yet she didn’t feel the urge to do so. Not now, at any rate.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what you just did to him.”
Pretend? She didn’t have a clue. What had she done?
What had Radbourne seen? “I assure ye, sir, I doona ken what ye’re talkin’ about. Perhaps ye’ve imbibed too much this evenin’. My brother has a habit of doin’ that himself.”
Radbourne chuckled. “I assure you, Sorcha, I never get foxed. High tolerance for spirits,” he explained. “My, you are a little minx, aren’t you?”
“I doona think I am.” And she didn’t. No one had ever said so before. Weren’t minxes akin to sirens or such things? She was just… Sorcha.
“Well, I am certain of it.” The viscount frowned as they passed through the gates of Castle Hythe and the pebbled path crunched beneath the horse’s hooves. “I know you think you know that creature back there, but I assure you he isn’t the man you once knew. It would be best if you kept your distance from MacQuarrie—and all other vampyres, for that matter. A