Rose's Rapture: Lords of the Night, Book Two Page 9

  She whimpered and her hips rocked to meet him. Lazarus groaned as the sensations swallowed him. He quickened his pace, stroking and cajoling her until they both teetered on the razor’s edge. One final surge pulled them under, drowning them in a sea of sensation.

  Lazarus’s bellow nearly drowned out Abigail’s orgasmic cry. He collapsed on top of her unable to move for a few seconds. “You,” he said, panting next to her ear, “are the most perfect woman in the world. Thank you for this precious gift.” He wasn’t referring to her physical surrender, but he knew that’s what she would believe. Lazarus was content to let her do so, for now.

  He leaned close and kissed her, his lips lingering on her cheek, nuzzling her neck. Lazarus shifted his weight, until he could hold Abigail in his arms. They fell asleep sated and content, lost in a lover’s bliss. Only he knew their days were numbered.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The week flew by and every day heralded a new arrival of flowers. Rose glanced around her home. Not a space remained that didn’t hold a bloom. Hamish had sent her so many bouquets she feared he’d be left destitute. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Rose smiled. In all her life a man had never attempted to woo her. Not like this. She found it disconcerting, but strangely charming.

  They’d attended one other ball since they’d become lovers and it appeared that the Scottish ton looked upon their attachment favorably. Despite her resolve to keep her heart safely guarded, Rose knew that if Hamish wanted it all he’d need to do was ask.

  Tonight was the last major ball of the season. The McClary clan had hunted for the feast over the past week. The entire countryside had been invited and most had accepted. The crowd would be a push, but Rose knew she had to go. She looked forward to seeing Abigail. Between Hamish’s and Lazarus’s erotic demands, they hadn’t managed a visit.

  She hadn’t spotted the man who resembled Lord William Longfellow since the McCoy’s gathering and hadn’t heard whispers of a stranger in town. Rose was beginning to think she’d imagined the whole episode. Perhaps, it was just nerves over her growing feelings for Hamish. It had been a long time since she’d sought happiness. For years, Rose had believed it out of reach. But the move to Scotland had changed all that. Hamish had convinced her it was possible.

  He hadn’t stated his intentions and for all his demonstrations of affection, she still got the impression that he was holding something back. Something that wore heavily upon him. She’d caught the shadows in his eyes when he didn’t realize she was looking. Rose decided that he could keep his secrets as long as he allowed her to keep hers. It was only fair.

  She turned toward the study, giving one last glance at the flowers. Rose’s heart sped as she pictured Hamish’s handsome face. Warmth filled her, along with the aroma of the blooms. No time to daydream. She had work to do before the ball. Her slippered feet were silent as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

  * * * * *

  It had taken Lord William Longfellow the last of his blunt to bribe one of the maids in Rose’s employ, but the information she’d given him had been worth it. Too bad he couldn’t allow her to live long enough to spend the money. He couldn’t take the chance that she’d have a change of heart and tell Rose that he was here.

  He wanted their meeting tonight to be a surprise. As much of a surprise as he’d had when he discovered the man wooing her with flowers was a demon like Lord Richard Lyon. The whore he’d fucked days earlier had remembered Laird MacDougall’s fangs. She couldn’t remember much else, but the fear in her eyes had been real. William believed her. No matter how many lashes from the whip she’d received, her story never changed.

  The whole situation made a bizarre kind of sense. Maybe Rose was passed from creature to creature. For a whore, there would probably be little difference between cocks and fangs. He shook his head. Killing her would be the merciful thing to do, he rationalized. Rose probably didn’t want to go on living that kind of life.

  In fact, William was sure in the end that Rose would thank him for saving her soul and destroying the creature that preyed upon her. It was the least he could do given their history. In gratitude, she’d want him to have her house and possessions. And that was exactly how he’d present it to the magistrate, after Hamish MacDougall killed her and William identified her lifeless body. He’d make sure the ‘papers’ were in order, so there’d be no question of his claim.

  “My dear, you’ve been more than helpful,” he said, slowly undressing the maid, who mentioned something about her name being Harriet.

  “Thank you, my lord.” She bit her lip and groaned as he pressed his mouth to her neck.

  She wasn’t comely like the women he was used to laying with, but she was willing.

  “Will we return to your London home soon, my lord?” she asked, thrusting her meager chest out as he teased her nipples.

  “Yes, just as soon as I finish my dealings with your mistress and MacDougall.” William slipped her dress down her shoulders, leaving her bare from the waist up. He had no intention of finding a position in his home for this young chit. He valued loyalty above all else and she’d already proven herself lacking. He reached for the hem of her skirt, bunching it in his fists as he lifted the thin fabric. She hadn’t worn a chemise so her legs were bare beyond her stockings.

  William walked her over to the wall. “Bend over,” he said, bracing her hands above her head.

  Harriet glanced over her shoulder, her eyes growing wide with trepidation. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lord?”

  He ignored her question and unfastened his breeches to free his cock. “I said, bend over.” William reached out and pinched her nipple hard as punishment for her defiance.

  She whimpered, but did as he asked.

  “That’s better,” William said, nudging his thigh between her legs to spread her wider. She wasn’t moist, but that didn’t stop him from entering her.

  She winced.

  He swiftly took his pleasure, then grabbed a handful of her hair, twisting it around his wrist until she cried out in pain. “You dare speak a word of our encounter and your hair won’t be the only thing I’ll twist.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

  William walked out the door and nodded to the two ruffians he’d hired earlier. “She’s all yours,” he said. “Make sure her body isn’t found.”

  * * * * *

  The ball was in full swing when the note arrived. Hamish scanned the crowd for Rose, but couldn’t detect her presence. Unease rippled through him as he reread the missive.

  Hamish,

  I have received disturbing news regarding your past. It cannot possibly be true, although proof has been presented to me. I choose not to believe until we have spoken. Come at once. Do not dally. I shall await you in the McClary family crypt.

  Rose

  There was only one thing this could mean. She’d found out about his true nature. Hamish’s stomach clenched. He’d been so careful, even going so far as to erase her memory when he’d been unable to control his fangs. He hadn’t fed from her since that first night, even though his body had all but begged and pleaded for him to do so.

  Obviously, his safeguards hadn’t worked. He’d been a fool to touch her and now he was going to pay the price for his folly. The thought of losing Rose sent a spike of pain through his chest. Could he stand to lose another? A tendril of fear followed the sudden discomfort. What if she wished to expose him?

  It didn’t bear thinking about. Hunger beat at Hamish as he glanced around the room. He knew he should’ve fed before coming, but he’d had to take care of unexpected business at the last moment. He closed his eyes and fought for control. His hand closed around the note. He could put off their meeting no longer.

  Hamish slipped from Moira McClary’s ball, but not before planting memories in several minds that they’d just seen him. He should be safe, at least for a short while.

  He walked into the garden through the terrace
doors, trying to appear relaxed. Several couples milled, taking in the cool air. He smiled and waved, making small talk without stopping. As soon as he made it past them, Hamish blurred his image as he sped to the crypt.

  Why had she picked the crypt as a meeting place? It was private, but far from an ideal place to hold a conversation. Dank, dark, and foreboding the burial chamber offered no comforts. What was Rose thinking? Fear returned as he realized it could very well be a trap. Would she do something like that after everything they’d shared? The thought was too painful to consider. She’d stolen his heart. And now she held his very life in her small hands. He was so preoccupied with worry over his dearest Rose that Hamish didn’t sense the danger until it was too late.

  Pain lanced through him, burning his flesh. He glanced down at the silver blade protruding from his chest. He gripped the blade and his hands began to smoke. Hamish cried out and released the sword. The man holding the weapon pushed him deeper into the candlelit crypt.

  “Get down on your knees, demon,” he demanded.

  Hamish dropped, his gaze going to his attacker’s face. He didn’t recognize the man. “Who are you?” he asked, risking a glance around the small space. “Where’s Rose?”

  “She’ll be here soon.” He pushed the blade deeper, scalding Hamish’s insides and taking his breath away. Whoever this man was he appeared to be aware of Hamish’s weaknesses. That made him far more dangerous than he outwardly seemed.

  “Who are you?” he repeated the question. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Shackle yourself.” The man nodded to the silver shackle and chain secured to the floor.

  “If you hurt Rose, I’ll kill you,” Hamish growled out the warning.

  The man smiled. “How touching, but I won’t be the one hurting Rose. You will.” He glanced at the wound on Hamish’s chest, following the rivulets of blood as they flowed down his now crimson shirt. He twisted the sword and the flow increased.

  The look the man gave him chilled Hamish to the bone. He realized the man had purposely missed his heart. He didn’t want him dead. At least not yet. “You are a stranger, yet you know who I am,” Hamish said through clenched teeth. “Do me the courtesy of sharing your name before you kill me.” He wanted an answer, before he succumbed to blood loss and passed out.

  “I am Lord William Longfellow. Rose’s fiancé.”

  “Her what?” Hamish sputtered. Surely he hadn’t heard the man correctly. “Lady Carlson never told me she was engaged.”

  Longfellow laughed, then tsked as he straightened one sleeve while maintaining control of the weapon. “I suspect there’s a lot she hasn’t told you about her past. In fact, you’ve both been keeping quite the secrets from each other. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she knows your secret.”

  Hamish didn’t answer. Instead, he clamped the shackle onto his wrist as instructed. His skin began to blister on contact. He hissed under his breath. He could already feel his body weakening. Soon the hunger growing inside of him would be uncontrollable, then...

  “How long have you been a demon?” Longfellow asked.

  “A demon?” Hamish blinked. “Is that what you think?”

  William’s lip curled. “Do not insult me. I know you are a vampyre. I’ve met your kind before when I encountered Lord Lyon. I’d hoped to find him here, but instead, I found you.” He shrugged as if that explained everything.

  The mention of Richard’s name sent a sliver of ice down Hamish’s spine. So this fellow wasn’t quite mad after all.

  William played with the sword, sending shattering pain through Hamish’s body. “I believe they call you a glaistig or a baobhan sith here in Scotland.”

  “Actually,” Hamish gasped, “they call me Laird MacDougall.”

  Longfellow shoved the blade harder until Hamish felt the tip protrude out of his back. He winced, then bared his fangs in protest. To his credit, William did not flinch or retreat. Perhaps he was truly mad, for only a madman would taunt a baobhan sith and think he’d live to tell about it.

  “So what now?” Hamish winced in pain.

  William scrunched his brows as if the question confused him. “We wait for dear Rose. She should be along any moment. I made sure your message sounded urgent.”

  “You bastard!” Hamish tried to lunge, but the shackle and the blade hampered his movements. Pain shot through his chest, taking his breath. “She won’t come.”

  “Yes, she will,” he said.

  Hamish jerked against the restraint.

  “Tsk...tsk...tsk, I’d hate to kill you before she gets here. It would ruin the fun of you killing her.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Hamish said. His head swam from the blood loss. If he didn’t feed soon, he might truly die.

  Longfellow smiled. “We’ll see.”

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rose crumpled the missive in her hand. He knew. That could be the only explanation for the note. Her stomach flipped and her heart threatened to shatter in her chest. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. How had Hamish found out about her past? Her blood chilled. Longfellow. He had been here.

  In the back of her mind, Rose had always been prepared for this day, but now that it was here she didn’t know if she’d survive. She knew better than to fall in love. Love was for fools and the young. She was neither, despite her behavior with Hamish. She reread the note.

  Dearest Rose,

  Someone has brought your past to my attention. Please meet me in the McClary family crypt.

  Hamish

  Why did he wish to meet her at the crypt? It seemed like a strange place to talk, considering all the other options. If he wanted to cast her out, all he had to do was ask her to leave. She would not protest. How could she, when it was the truth? Rose made her way out of the ballroom and slipped into the library. She threw the note into the hearth and then walked to the French doors at the end of the room. No one would miss her for a few minutes. She’d leave straight from their meeting and never step into society again.

  Rose made her way past the garden, despite the darkness of the night. Her slippered feet fell silent upon the moist ground. She inhaled, attempting to shore up her courage, then exhaled slowly. Her warm breath left eerie tendrils floating in the air. Rose shivered and picked up her pace.

  As she approached the crypt, she saw a candle flicker out of the darkness. She swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. Rose tilted her chin higher and walked slowly down the stairs as if she were being led to the gallows. She would not allow Hamish or any other man for that matter to shame her about her past. She’d done what she’d had to do to survive. She couldn’t change nor would she...no matter how much she loved Hamish.

  Rose spotted Hamish when her foot hit the last rung. His body was poking out from behind a raised crypt. He was lying on the floor with something shiny clasped to his wrist.

  “Hamish?” she called out in confusion.

  “Rose run!” he bellowed, then clutched his chest in pain and coughed. Blood oozed through his fingertips.

  Despite the warning, Rose rushed forward. She could do no other knowing that he was hurt. “What has happened?” she asked, gazing at the wound in shock.

  Hamish looked at her through pain-filled eyes. “Get out while you can.”

  She crouched down and gently touched his arm. “I’ll get help.”

  “It’s too late,” Hamish muttered. His green eyes glazed over and he started to lose consciousness.

  Rose shook him. “Stay with me,” she said, then whirled and ran for the stairs, her feet slipping on the moist stones. She had reached to the third step when pain exploded in the side of her head. A breath later darkness enveloped her.

  * * * * *

  Rose awoke slowly, shivering, her body cold from lying on the stone floor. She forced her eyes to focus. She was in a small, damp room that reeked of blood. Rose groaned as she turned her head, every muscle in her body protesting. Hamish lay beside her. She saw no movement in
his chest. His shirt now held no trace of white. Rose cried out and tried to cover the gaping wound with her trembling hands.

  “You didn’t think I’d find you, did you?” Lord William Longfellow’s voice seethed from the shadows.

  Rose flinched and turned to face the man who’d been her ruin. “I honestly didn’t think that you’d come looking. After all, it’s been ten years.”

  He stepped closer. “Well, I did, and you were gone. I thought it was bad enough that you were a whore and then I found out the truth.”

  “What are you talking about, William? Can’t you see Hamish is injured?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  “I know. I’m the one who injured him. Let me say, it wasn’t easy, considering what he is.” He stepped from the mire into the flickering candlelight.

  “Is?” Rose shook her head in confusion. “Have you gone mad?” she asked.

  “Perhaps, but then again, I’m not the one fucking a monster, my pet.”

  Rose felt the color drain from her face. She saw Hamish tense beside her. Whether from William’s words or pain, she did not know. The only important thing was that he was still alive. Relief flooded her and suddenly she could breathe again.

  “It’ll be all right,” she whispered to Hamish before facing William. Her lips thinned. “I am not nor have I ever been your pet, so it’s none of your concern who I choose to bed.”

  William arched a brow, then sneered. “No, of course not, you’re a whore. You don’t care who or what you fuck as long as they leave the blunt on the table afterwards.”

  Rose’s head rose a notch as she met William Longfellow’s gaze. “You must be right. After all, I slept with you.”

  “You bitch!” William stepped forward with his hand raised, ready to strike.

  Hamish shifted and Longfellow froze.

  Straightening to his full height, William tugged at his sleeve nonchalantly. “You aren’t worth my time,” he said, glancing back at Rose. “In fact, I’d say in another hour your worries will be over. Isn’t that right, my vampyre friend?”