His Ruthless Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 4) (32 page)

When they entered the bright, smoky common room, several shouts echoed around them.

“Lord Darkwood!” A young pup barely old enough to shave darted forward to clap him on the shoulder. “I haven’t seen you hereabouts in months.”

“Yes. Lady Darkwood wishes to sample the famous trout.” Belatedly, he recognized the lad as Lord Lumley’s son and heir, but couldn’t recall the boy’s name.

“I adore trout,” Lenore said breathlessly, plying a lace fan.

“I would be honored if you’ll share my table. Alfred, Squire Nilson’s son, and I were having a pint.” The boy stilled, his gaze suddenly distant. “There was something I’d wanted to tell you, but I cannot recall.” He shook his head and grinned. “No matter, I’m sure I’ll remember it soon.”

“We would be delighted,” Gavin told the cheerful, albeit dim-witted boy.

After they joined the young lordlings, who fawned upon Lenore in a comical fashion, Gavin affected a bland tone of minor interest. “I’d heard the most curious rumor. Do you recall my old friend, Justus de Wynter? He was infamous for his games of hazard.”

Both lads shook their heads, which wasn’t surprising. Both would have been too young to have frequented Justus’s haunts eight years ago. But Sampson, the innkeeper, nodded when he delivered their wine and trout. “Aye, the Red Fox, we called him. Haven’t seen him in nearly ten years. Heard he took off to India to become a nabob.”

Gavin nodded. That was the lie he’d spread across the countryside. “I’d heard that he’d returned.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Sampson drummed his fingers on the table. “Wouldn’t surprise me if that scoundrel made a fortune. Clever as a fox, he was, hence his nickname. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for you, my lord.”

“Thank you, Sampson.” Gavin said. “Perhaps someone mistook him for another stranger in the village.”

“Haven’t had any strangers here neither. I don’t mind though. I like familiar faces.” A clatter echoed from the kitchen and Sampson cursed under his breath. “Blast it, I must go.”

Gavin rested his elbows on the table. They should go as well. There was nothing to be learned here. Perhaps Justus was now frequenting more lowly pubs. It would make sense for him to avoid places where people could recognize him. But he’d be damned before taking Lenore to such crude places.

He leaned back in his chair and watched her delicately nibble the butter and herb crusted trout, her eyes closed in pure bliss.

“Careful, my dear,” he whispered. “You don’t want another upset stomach.”

She blushed and nodded. He would never tire of her blushes.

Suddenly, Lord Lumley’s son clapped him on the shoulder. “I remember what I wanted to tell you!” He hiccupped. “Actually, I wanted to tell Her Ladyship. It’s rather unpleasant news, I’m afraid.”

“What is it?” Lenore looked at him like she wanted to stab him with her fork if he didn’t spit it out.

The boy took off his cap and held it to his chest. “Your friend, Doctor Elliotson was struck down by a carriage.”

Lenore’s face went chalk white. She dropped her fork. “When did it happen?”

“Just after sunset,” the Lumley boy said, looking more interested in exciting gossip than actual concern. “Doctor Hodgkin is with him now.”

“Was he…” she swallowed, “killed?”

“I’m not certain. Dudley said he heard his ribs were crushed.” He pointed at a pair of dandies playing cards. “Squire Guilford’s son heard he just had his leg snapped. Neither of them actually witnessed the incident, however.”

Lenore made another small, grieved sound and shifted to rise from her seat, but Gavin clamped a hand on her arm. “Did anyone have a description of the carriage? Or know who exactly did witness it?”

“I heard it was black,” the lad said.

Alfred looked up from his pint. “Like yours.” He narrowed his eyes at Gavin. “Where were you two hours ago?”

Behind them the patrons whispered and muttered.

“He never did like his wife’s friendship with the doctor,” someone said.

Gavin’s chest tightened. He’d had a quick meeting with Benson then. But would Lenore think he’d do such a terrible thing? Cautiously, he glanced down at her.

His wife glared at Alfred. “My lord husband was with me. He is teaching me how to ride. I never learned when I lived in London.” Her chin lifted as she looked down her nose at the squire’s son. “And if you would care to look at our carriage, you will see that it is unmarred. The conveyance was polished only three days ago.”

The invisible fist squeezing his heart relaxed its painful grip. He looked down at his wife in wonder at her impassioned defense. “Though I do confess, I
was
jealous of her friendship with the doctor while I was pressing my suit. All of that nonsense vanished when she accepted my proposal. Besides, I would never resort to such monstrous actions. Now I must take my lady wife home. This news has upset her.”

He slammed a guinea on the bar and Lenore gave him a grateful look as he escorted her from the Inn.

“We have to go see him,” Lenore said as he helped her into the carriage.

Gavin shook his head. Dread pooled in his belly. “I’m sorry, but that would be too dangerous. Someone is targeting him, which means you are being targeted as well.”

“I must! He was my friend!” She almost shouted, a hysterical note in her voice. “Surely people would talk if I do not visit my friend when he is hurt.”

“There will be talk from my people if you disobey me,” he struggled to remain firm.

Her brown eyes blazed with fury and defiance. “Well, they can all hang! And so can you.”

Before he could protest, she was up from her seat in a blinding flash, the carriage door flew open, and Lenore vanished into the night.

***

Lenore ran in a circuitous route. If she went straight to Elliotson’s home, Gavin would likely intercept her on the way. She needed to hide, then pay her visit discreetly before dawn.

After darting through an orchard, a crumbled arch came visible over the crest of the hill.

Triumph welled in her belly. The cathedral. She would hide there. Perhaps she could even climb the bell tower and keep a look out for Gavin and the other vampires he’d send to pursue her.

Guilt knotted her belly for her fleeing him. Guilt and anger. Gavin had so much compassion for his friend, why couldn’t he muster a scrap for hers?

She was about to leap up to climb the castle walls when a sharp crack rent the air and something hard and unyielding wrapped around her throat, jerking her backward. The world rushed before her eyes before she slammed down hard on the ground.

A man laughed, low and mirthless, as he stood before her, pulling the whip even tighter around her throat. She tried to wrap her fingers around the thick coil to snap it, but it was too wide and thick.

“I had thought to find my prey inside this old ruin,” he said in a cold, flat voice that made her shiver. “But not for
you
to leap into my trap, Lady Darkwood.” He reached in his pocket, never breaking eye contact. “Everyone thought your mad doctor friend was a vampire. He still may be a witch, so I ran him down with my carriage just in case. But the true demon was you all along, the saintly baroness, tending to the common folk only to feast on their blood. Well, you’ve drank your last, demon wench.”

The Hunter withdrew a bottle, uncapped it, and splashed its contents all over her dress. The acrid odor of kerosene choked her nearly as much as the whip strangling her.

Lenore frantically struggled to break the thing. Her fingers found purchase and she tugged, loosening the punishing coil enough to suck in a tainted breath.

The Hunter lit a match and dropped it on her skirts. The velvet ignited in a flash of brilliant heat, licking the fabric with orange tongues that would soon consume her. Lenore screamed as her attacker reached behind his back and withdrew a gleaming axe.

He raised it above his head and she thrashed wildly as the heat of the flames reached her legs.
Oh God, why did I have to be so foolish
? She cried inwardly.
He’s going to go after Gavin next!

Refusing to close her eyes like a coward, she stared death in its face and thanked the fates that she had at least had some happiness before the end. She entreated the lord or whatever powers that be to protect her husband.

The axe began its slicing downward stroke.

In a blur of crimson motion, a vampire appeared behind the Hunter. Their eyes met for a split second before the vampire raised his hands in two joined fists, and struck the Hunter atop the head. The human collapsed like a felled deer.

Then the vampire seized her shoulder and rolled her on the ground until the flames were extinguished. She couldn’t help but whimper as rocks and grass came in contact with her burned flesh.

“Hold her.” His voice rang with command as he looked past her.

Another pair of hands clamped on her arms, as a second vampire crouched behind her. He lifted her to a sitting position, pinning her further with his knees.

Her rescuer turned back to the fallen Hunter and plunged his fangs into the human’s throat, draining him with famished gulps. His long red hair gleamed in the moonlight. Lifting his head, he returned to Lenore and held out his arms. The other vampire thrust her at him.

“Your turn,” he told the other rogue. “But save some for Will. You’ll take the vermin’s body, I’ll take our prize.”

Wrapping his arms around her wrists, he dragged her to the cathedral.

“Justus,” she breathed in shock.

He glanced back over his shoulder and raised a brow. “So, you
have
heard of me.” His arched lips curved in a sinister smirk. “That should make things more interesting.”

By the time Justus hauled Lenore through a winding tunnel beneath the cloisters, she couldn’t stop shaking and gasping for air. The pain in her legs reminded her of how the shackles had rubbed her skin raw in Clayton’s cellar.

Rogues had taken her again! Panic consumed her, filled her lungs, boiled in her blood. Visions from the past flashed before her vision until she couldn’t tell whether she was in the present, or in the past.

When they reached a dark, dry chamber with only a meager lantern, all she could do was shake and gasp incoherent mewls of terror.

“What’s the matter with her?” the other rogue asked as he dragged the vampire hunter’s body to a dark corner.

“I do not know,” Justus said. “I’ve never seen anyone shake so much. Perhaps it’s some sort of fit.”

Their voices echoed dully around her, like she was under water.

“Who is she?” a third rogue asked. “And why is her dress burned?” He glanced over at the corpse. “And who is
he
?”

“That,” Justus pointed, “was the Hunter. I killed him when he was trying to burn Lady Darkwood and slay her. We saved you a pint or two.”

“Lady Darkwood?” The vampire gaped at her like she was a rare species of bird. “The Lord of Rochester’s wife?”

“And the key to us getting full pardons and Rochester renouncing his lordship.” Justus cast her a triumphant smirk.

The second rogue who’d pinned Lenore while Justus killed the vampire crept closer, ogling her limbs exposed from the charred tatters of her gown. “Pretty thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve had me a woman. And she has lovely legs. Perhaps we could help her out of that burned dress and have a bit of sport.” He reached for her, and all Lenore could see was the last rogue who’d raped her.

Lenore cringed back with a scream, thrashing against Justus’s grip.

Justus thrust her behind him and backhanded the other vampire so hard his head snapped back and he collapsed to the ground.

“Enough!” he roared. “Lady Darkwood is our guest and will be treated fairly. And I do
not
tolerate rape in my band. You told me you were exiled for thievery, Rolfe. Now I wonder if it was for something else.”

“No, my lord,” Rolfe protested, though there was a crack in his voice and a glint to his beady eyes that hinted of dishonesty.

“Stay away from her and go through the Hunter’s satchel. Look for something useful.” He looked at the other vampire. “Will, have yourself a bite. The blood is still warm.”

As the rogue gave him a grateful look and scrambled off to feed, Justus turned Lenore around to face him. Such close contact with a man who was not Gavin, even if he had saved her, made her body break out in renewed tremors.

“Hush,” Justus spoke softly, like he was trying to coax a cat down from a tree. “We won’t hurt you.”

Lenore wished she could believe him. “But you’ll kill me if my husband doesn’t do what you want.”

“I don’t want to kill you.” His voice hardened. “Though if Gavin doesn’t listen to reason…” He shrugged.

“He doesn’t want to kill
you
, either,” she hissed, at last finding a semblance of courage. “Unfortunately, after you arranged for Cecil to be killed, he has no choice.”

Justus paled. “Cecil?” he choked, gripping her upper arms until she whimpered in pain. “Are you saying he’s dead?”