Page 18 of Too Brazen to Bite (Gothic Love Stories #5)

A scant distance into the corridor, Ellie jarred to a halt. She held up a finger to a startled Miss Breckenridge. “Wait.”

There was no way she could return to her guest quarters. Mama would be waiting in her chamber. She would wish to finish their discussion. She would wish to explain. Perhaps to apologize, and perhaps not. But without question, she’d insist on running. Immediately.

Ellie could scarce deny the wisdom behind putting as much distance as possible between her outlaw mother and the clan hunter who sought them, but she was not ready to pack her bags.

She had told Cain she would meet him tonight, and she meant to. Yearned to. Needed to.

He truly cared for her, and she him, star-crossed though they might be. He had answers her mother had not shared. He also had expressive eyes, strong arms, and kisses that set her half-blood heart spinning.

That she would not see him again went without saying.

After coming so close to capture, they could never again risk so much as a nodding acquaintance with their new neighbors, wherever they landed next... much less house parties or dancing or a beau who stole kisses amongst the flowers.

But they hadn’t left yet.

“What’s wrong?” Miss Breckenridge cocked her head quizzically. “Have you the headache?”

Lifting her brows, Ellie nodded slowly. She had more than enough to make her head ache. The last thing she needed was another confrontation with her mother.

“I think I’d like to be alone for a little while.” She gave her hostess a determined smile. “Don’t worry about me. Why don’t you attend the other guests, or take the evening for yourself? Find something diverting and enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine.”

Miss Breckenridge’s eyes unfocused. Then she nodded once, turned, and wandered off without a word.

Ellie stared after her for a moment, feeling more than a little guilty.

Either she’d inadvertently offended her hostess.

.. or once again, she’d circumvented her free will with accidental Compulsion.

Ellie was definitely going to have to wrest that skill under control before—No.

Mastery over Compulsion wouldn’t matter one jot, once she and her mother were confined to some shadowy hovel in the middle of nowhere.

Sighing, Ellie retraced her steps and headed for the opposite wing. Cain had mentioned the conservatory. Granted, she’d said she wouldn’t meet him until tonight, but given her own guest chamber was no longer a viable retreat, the conservatory would be as peaceful a place to wait as any.

When she arrived, she found herself alone amongst the many blooms. The spicy scent of exotic flowers enveloped her.

She wandered up and down the lush walkways, ducking low-hanging vines and pausing now and again to run a fingertip along the satin petals of a particularly breathtaking bloom.

She was thus engaged when she sensed, rather than heard, a presence behind her.

“You’re early,” he said softly.

Smiling, she spun to face him. “As are you.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

She glanced behind him. “No Mac Eric this time?”

Cain shook his head, his eyes crinkled with laughter. “I tried. But we weren’t five paces from my door when we chanced upon an unaccountably effusive Miss Breckenridge. Quite a departure from her reception in the music room.”

Ellie coughed guiltily. “Amicable, was she?”

“She hugged me,” her vampire warrior replied as if he’d never suffered a worse indignity. “I asked her if she’d like to pet the puppy, and she said she’d like to keep Moch-éirigh forever.”

“So you’re letting her watch Mac Eric for the day?”

He shook his head. “She’s hers now.”

“But you love that puppy!”

“Trust me,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “I have no difficulty stumbling across loveable puppies. I’ll probably find another before we leave the conservatory.”

“Are we leaving the conservatory?” Ellie tried for an arch look, but couldn’t help grinning up at him.

His sea-green eyes were nothing short of smoldering. “Aren’t we?”

She accepted his arm without hesitation.

A delicious shiver slid up her spine. Her shoulders rolled backward in response, causing her breasts to rise and her bosom to tighten.

She was acutely aware of every inch of her body.

The thin fabric of her chemise brushed against her flushed skin.

She felt oddly naked beneath the oppressive layers of lawn and linen and silk.

As if Cain’s heated gaze could see right through the lace and flounces and corset to the woman trembling beneath.

Her fingers clutched his arm tighter. Even voluminous shirtsleeves tucked into a well-tailored jacket could not disguise the strength contained within, the toned muscle of his body. Hard. Strong. Hers.

This was what she’d been waiting for. Longing for. A memory to cherish forever.

The walk from the conservatory to Cain’s guest quarters might not have taken half so long, were it not for his inability to refrain from sidelong glances that led directly to stolen kisses.

With her curls crushed between her back and the wall, and her hands wound tight about his neck as she eagerly met each kiss with her own, a single passerby would have spelt ruin if she were at all concerned about guarding her reputation.

She was not. Her legs were all but twined about him as he spun with her across the threshold and into the dark stillness of his bedchamber at last.

She half-expected him to tumble directly upon the bed and divest her of these confining layers. Rather, that was precisely what she hoped he was about.

But, first, he kissed her soundly before stepping a few feet away to coax the dwindling embers in his fireplace into a softly burning blaze.

The dancing light fell upon a sumptuous master bed, with matching mahogany nightstands on either side.

Upon one stood a vase with a single pink camellia.

On the other rested a life-size marble bust of what was undoubtedly one of the Breckenridge forebears.

Ellie focused her gaze back on the single flower, preferring its natural beauty to the profile carved in stone.

The bust made the general sense of inferiority Ellie had always endured seem starker. Not only wasn’t she English aristocracy, she couldn’t remember her own father, much less possessed mementos of cherished ancestors. She’d always just had Mama.

Ellie sat on the edge of the bed and tried to push all thoughts of her impending sojourn from her mind.

She tugged her slippers from her feet and bent to smell the camellia.

As lonely as she had been without a father, how much worse had it been for her mother to have loved and lost her husband?

Would this moment shared with Cain bring Ellie years of pleasure, or the soul-wrenching remembrance of what she had once tasted, but could never properly have?

She shook the foolishness from her head and turned to face Cain. She would have tonight... and it would be perfect.

He rose to his feet. The fire’s welcome heat eased the chill from the air, and the crackling flames cast a warm glow upon his skin as he reached for Ellie’s hand.

He stared at her as if she were the exotic flower.

As if he, too, wanted to sear every touch, every taste, into his memory to relive again and again.

Perhaps he did. Perhaps this moment seemed just as tender, just as fleeting, just as vital for him as it did her.

He had been a hunter for centuries. Would no doubt continue to be. To him, honor meant upholding the values of his clan. For her, protecting her mother. Both of them put their respective families above all else. Conflicting goals, but shared ideals.

Cain pulled her to her feet, seated himself at the edge of the mattress, and nestled her between his thighs. He seemed content to spend hours thusly, hand in hand, his unreadable gaze never wavering from hers.

Ellie was having none of it.

With a raised brow, she tugged her hands from his.

Slowly, she crisscrossed her arms behind her back, conscious of how the action lifted the swell of her breasts nearly to his parted lips.

Almost, but not quite. His gaze dipped. Although she doubted a full-blooded vampire had cause for breathing, Ellie could have sworn she heard a quick intake of breath.

She tugged loose the laces holding her gown together. The sleeves correspondingly relaxed, exposing first one shoulder, then the other. With nothing left to hold it in place, the lace fichu tumbled from her bodice.

The triangle of lace slid across one of Cain’s parted thighs. He flinched as if the weightless scrap scalded his flesh through his calfskin breeches. His eyes closed as if he were willing himself to withstand pain caused by a wisp of material that had once rested across her breasts.

He opened his eyes. He was a man tortured. Intoxicated. Powerless.

Ellie returned her hands to her sides and brushed her fingertips across his leg where the fichu had fallen. Her shift and her corset supported her bosom, but did not cover it. Her nipples puckered deliciously beneath the heat of his gaze.

He licked his lips. Slowly, teasingly, as if what he desired most of all was to fasten his mouth upon her breast and suckle.

Ellie could hardly breathe for wanting him to hurry up and do so. She eased forward, inclining so slowly as for the motion to be nearly undetectable, were it not for her breasts’ trajectory ever nearer to his face.

He was definitely breathing. Hard.

Her right nipple grazed the hollow of his cheek. The side of his mouth. The firm contours of his lower lip. Her insides clenched in pleasure, pitching her forward, sending her trembling breast directly into his waiting mouth.