terribly innocent before his death. And he was even less so now. They couldn’t be more different.
Sorcha broke into his self-recrimination. “Why do ye suddenly look so serious?” She lifted a hand and very briefly touched the side of his face.
Alec turned his head quickly and kissed the center of her palm, which made her giggle. Then he looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed his misstep. He shouldn’t have done that. Yet she made him want to do things that would be so bad for her. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
“May I escort you in to dinner tonight, Sorcha?” he blurted out.She looked as surprised as he was.
“Or has Radbourne already requested the honor?”
The corners of her mouth turned up in a grin. “Radbourne has no’ asked. No’ yet, anyway.”
“Is that a yes?”
Her eyes narrowed as she appraised his face. Was she looking for sincerity? She might find that. He sincerely wanted to keep Radbourne from taking her in to dinner. But he doubted that was the kind of sincerity she would be looking for. She was looking for a pure heart. And, hell, he didn’t even have a heart anymore.
“Perhaps.” She said just that one word. Perhaps.
Perhaps he’d just toss her over his shoulder and steal away with her. He could move so fast that only the very observant would see him. And even those people could be made to forget, just like he would do with Chilcombe and his cronies.
“Perhaps? Do not tempt me, Sorcha,” he growled.
“Ooo, ye sound like a Lycan with all that growlin’.” Her tinkling little laugh nearly made him crack a smile.
“Do not compare me to those beasts,” Alec warned.
Sorcha laid one hand on his chest and patted him softly, her eyebrows mocking seriousness as she pursed her lips and crooned out, “Oh, that’s right. Ye’re a big, bad vampyre. Well above those Lycan beasts. Sometimes I forget. Thank ye for remindin’ me of yer superiority.” There went that tinkling laughter again. Alec fought not to grin. She was incorrigible.
“Do not take my condition so lightly, Sorch,” he warned.
“You may have bitten off more than you can chew, messing with me.”
Her voice dropped to a silky purr as she leaned closer to him. “I doona think I’ll be the one who does the bitin’,” she teased.
“Bloody hell,” Alec muttered. His incisors descended right there on the outskirts of the ballroom.
“What’s wrong?” The teasing left her voice as she searched his face. “Do ye have a headache?”
“Vampyres don’t get headaches,” he grumbled, fighting to hold his lips down over his teeth. He had to get out of the ballroom, away from the others. “I will retrieve you for dinner,” he clipped out. But the very thought of dinner with her made him think about sinking his teeth into the delicate skin at the base of her throat.
“Are ye ill?” She continued to search her face.
“Nay, I’m just dead.” Alec rubbed at his upper lip, hoping she wouldn’t notice his fangs.
“That is no’ humorous.” Her pert little nose lifted higher in the air.
“No, it’s not humorous at all. I’ll retrieve you for dinner. So, please do not accept any invitations from Eynsford’s relations.” He’d hate to have to dispose of a body. But he could be led to commit homicide if one of the beasts put his hands on Sorcha. “Or anyone else for that matter,” he amended. Bexley, Chilcombe, and Loughton weren’t much better. “Understand?”
“Ye are no’ handsome when ye act like a tyrant,” she muttered. “No’ a bit.”
“Don’t do anything magical with the punch while I’m gone. I’ll see you in a bit,” he said with a quick bow. He needed to make a quick trip to the butcher shop in the village to quench this suddenly insatiable thirst. But he also didn’t want anyone to force him to exchange pleasantries on his way out. He chose the lesser of two evils and slipped into the garden and over the garden wall.
He’d be back in a trice. He’d have just enough time to drink his fill and then find Chilcombe and his cohorts and help them forget what they’d seen outside the orangery that afternoon. After all, there had to be some good things about being a vampyre, didn’t there? It couldn’t be all blood sucking and eternal damnation.
Chapter Twelve
Sorcha watched Alec flee the ballroom as though his life depended on a quick escape. What in the world was wrong with him? For a moment she’d hoped