My Lady Vampire (7 page)

Wits clicking into place like a well-oiled clock being wound, Katherine realized she needed to establish an identity. Had Jessie spoken with the people who were tending her? Did they already know who she was?

So many questions.

And one more plagued her…whose hands had soothed her pain?

She should have been more concerned, but something muffled her worries, cushioned her thoughts and prevented her from panicking.

She heard a door open quietly and close again. She stilled, the beat of her heart loud in her ears through the silence of the room.  Even though she’d immediately closed her eyes, she could feel a presence, a person, coming closer to the bed. A servant perhaps? The owner of the house? The lady of the house?

Katherine tensed, all her senses as alert as she could make them, for any clue as to the identity of her visitor.

The air moved against her bare shoulder and a hand caressed her cheek softly, obviously not wishing to wake her.

She stayed motionless, willing her eyelids not to flicker, forcing her breathing into a regular semblance of sleep. It was not difficult, since a strange languor still invaded her limbs.

The hand moved lower, reaching for the sheet covering her--and drawing it away from her body.

Still she did not move.

The air was cool against her chest, and when the sheet was drawn further down exposing her breasts, Katherine could feel her nipples hardening against the chill. How far would this go? Was she now to be assaulted after suffering an injury? Should she scream? Cry out?

Her ribs were bared, then her belly, in a leisurely revelation of all that she possessed. There was a light touch against a spot that felt sore…a bruise perhaps…was this a physician examining a patient? Or was it more…

Katherine couldn’t help but wonder as the sheet drooped lower, letting the air of the room slide down between her thighs.

How she kept her countenance she had no idea. Every instinct was screaming at her to leap up, to grab the bedding and cover herself while hurling insults at the barefaced intruder who was so intent upon seeing her nakedness.

She waited, heart thudding erratically, for whatever would come next.

Nothing did.

The sheet began the return trip up her body to settle even higher around her shoulders, and she couldn’t help a slight sigh of relief at the secure sensation of coverings.

“You may open your eyes now.”

She jumped and immediately her eyelids snapped apart. He was standing next to the bed, an amused grin on his face and he was quite the most astoundingly handsome man she’d ever seen.

“A genuine redhead. And with blue eyes. How attractive.” The voice was silky, smooth and deep, yet edged with something--some inflexion--that she could not quite place.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Her lips were stiff, her throat dry.

“A natural question. Before I answer, I must inquire as to how you feel. Whether I should summon the man who has cared for you thus far? Any aches? Pains?” One sculpted eyebrow rose in query, a little too casually for Katherine’s tastes.

“Yes. I feel as if I’ve been run over by a carriage. Anything else?” The urge to smack this man’s self-confident gaze off his face was overwhelming and sent strength to muscles that had lain quiescent throughout his examination. “I repeat. Where am I? Where is my…my friend? How long have we been here?”

His expression altered slightly, becoming less saturnine and more serious. He eased himself down on the bed next to Katherine and tucked her in--an oddly comforting gesture. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. Sorry to have to be the one to tell you that your friend did not survive the accident.”

Katherine’s mind blanked.

Jessie was
dead
. Flighty, funny, inefficient Jessie, who was the worst ladies’ maid she’d ever had and the sweetest person--was
dead
. Her eyes closed against a pricking of moisture.

A cool hand found hers and held it. There was nothing overtly objectionable in the gesture, it was purely one of support and Katherine appreciated it. Soothed a little, she opened her eyes and blinked away the tears. “Thank you for telling me.” She bit down on her emotions in the way that had become so much a part of her nature.

“Who are you?” The grip on her hand tightened a little. “May I know your name? Is there someone we should notify?”

Alarms rang in Katherine’s brain. She sagged limply against the pillow, trying to muster her thoughts.

Jessie was dead. She’d not survived the accident, so it was quite possible that nobody knew their identities. This was an unlooked-for development, but perhaps one that could be used to her advantage. Rapidly, she reassembled her life to fit these changed circumstances.

“No. There is nobody to notify.” Katherine turned her head away as if in grief. She could not meet those unusually piercing eyes as she spoke her hastily-constructed lie. “We were traveling to meet her aunt. Her name was Mrs. Byerly. Jessica Byerly. She was a widow, as am I. I…I
was
her companion.”

“And your name?”

Silent for a moment, Katherine thought rapidly. She could not--would not--dare to take a new name. Too much could go wrong, she could fail to recognize it or answer to another--no, there were too many risks. “Kitty Edgeworth.”

The die was cast.

Having neatly reversed hers and Jessie’s lives, Katherine was now Kitty, genteel companion to the late lamented Widow Byerly. She crossed mental fingers. If her charade worked, a new and better life might begin right at this moment. If not…

She’d almost forgotten the man sitting next to her, until he leaned closer and studied her face. “Hmm. Somehow I think you’ve been misnamed. You don’t look much like a Kitty.” He ran a cool fingertip down her cheek to her chin and onwards, passing lightly over the pulse beating in her neck and stopping at the top of the linen. “Especially without the sheet.”

He grinned as her color rose and she pulled her hand from his in a quick and angry gesture. “
Sir
. That is uncalled for.”

“You’re correct. My apologies. I needed to check your injuries, no more.” He flicked her nose lightly. “But you still don’t look like a Kitty.” Dark eyes penetrated her thoughts, plunging deep into her gaze and disturbing her more than she cared to admit. “You’re a cat, my dear. A sharp-clawed cat with more secrets than lives, I’m thinking.”

He stood, allowing his hand to brush her breast as he moved. Involuntarily, Katherine’s nipples hardened, obvious peaks beneath the soft sheet. She drew a breath, which only made matters worse.

He grinned. “You’re a heated cat too. You have fire inside you, a fire that burns hotter than your hair. It could sear a man and reduce him to ashes. The wrong man, that is. The
right
man? He’d take your fire in his hand and make it explode.”

By now Katherine was furious. “I hope you don’t imagine that you are the right man, sir.” She snapped out the words coldly and precisely.

“Not at all. I don’t imagine any such thing.” He looked down over her body once more and Katherine felt naked beneath his gaze.  “I don’t
imagine
it, little cat. I
know
it.”

- - - -

Adrian quit the room before his lust overcame him.

From the first moment he’d seen her, scented her and touched her skin, he’d known she was going to be trouble. Trouble for him.

There was something about her body that lured him, called to him, told him how well they’d fit together in bed. How incredible it would be to fuck her to the edge of oblivion and beyond.

There was something about her that hit him hard in the gut, beneath the superficial attraction of male for female, beneath the need for a warm body and an explosive release.

Almost as if she challenged him, Adrian felt an anger of a sort build within him. She was lying through her teeth, without a doubt. She was no more a companion than he was. Every movement spoke of breeding and education, every gesture of elegance and refinement.

And every glance from beneath her lashes spoke of disdain for his presence--something he fully intended to rectify at the earliest opportunity.

For the first time in all his years of darkness, the full force of his need smacked him hard. He wanted a woman with the fierceness born of a lust that went deeper than his cock and his balls. It was coupled with a desire to feed on her heat, her passions--her soul.

Adrian strode outside St. Chesswell and stared across the harsh and rugged split in the land that was the Chyne. His emotions felt as fractured as the landscape, his hands shaking and his innards in turmoil. He sensed the stirring of his fangs--a stinging prickle around his lips signaling their awareness.

He fought against it all, mimicking the deep breathing techniques Sir Sidney had taught him, and letting the tiny particles of air that actually penetrated his lungs do their work.

As the hunger receded, he closed his eyes. This was unexpected, unanticipated in the scheme of things. His control was improving but still fragile at times. With his father’s help, Adrian was living a life of sorts, one that offered more than he’d ever hoped to experience.

But he’d never reckoned on the disturbing effect of somebody like Kitty Edgeworth. Never imagined that he could be overwhelmed to the point of madness by the scent of a woman or the way her eyes slid from his when she lied.

And she
had
lied. There was no doubt in Adrian’s mind.

Why
she lied was secondary to him at this moment. More frustrating was the knowledge that she dared to hide something from him.
Him
. The one person with whom she could have no secrets at all. The one person to whom she shouldn’t even
think
of lying.

The one person…who was going to take her and fuck her until she begged for mercy and who was then going to make her beg for more.

The inevitability of their bedding settled on Adrian’s shoulders like a mantle. It fit, comfortably, and although he knew not when or where, he now knew who. Or whom. He grinned into the darkness as he pondered the semantics.

Discussion of anything else would be futile at this point, given the strength of his conviction.

Kitty Edgeworth was
his
.

Chapter Seven

The woman herself was confused, aching and rather irritated at life in general when she awoke the next morning.

Stretching was painful, she needed to empty her bladder, the fire was out and rain pelted noisily against the closed windows. She also wanted to cough, but that urge was overridden by the fear that so doing might well rupture her ribs or something crucial thereabouts.

Hell and devil confound it, I hurt.

Then thoughts of Jessie filtered into her mind and her hurts faded to unimportance. Jessie was no more. She--
Katherine
--was alive. All else would heal with time. She blinked tears away as a footstep sounded outside and the door opened to reveal a motherly woman holding a most-welcome sight--a tea tray.

“Oh good, you poor dear. You’re awake. I hoped you might rouse yourself this mornin’. I’ve brought tea. Nothing like a nice cuppa to set you back on the right road, I always say.”

Katherine blinked as she eased herself painfully up on the pillow. There was nothing menacing about this woman--obviously the housekeeper--nor were there any dark-eyed men with fire in their gaze lurking in the room.

Other than the fact she was missing her night robe, she might have been in any country house anywhere in the country. She carefully cleared her throat. “Where am I?”

The woman bustled about, calling for a maid to relight the fire and placing tea things on a low table. “You’re at St. Chesswell, dearie. The home of Sir Sidney Chesswell and his son Adrian. You’re quite safe now.”

Remembering those eyes, most likely belonging to
his son Adrian
, Katherine wondered if that statement was wholly accurate. A sensual shiver crossed her skin and she repressed it.

The sound of tea being poured also made her shiver, but for a different reason. She gathered a sheet around her. “I must…I need to use…” She glanced about the room as she slipped her legs from the bed.

“Oh my goodness, of course you do. There’s a screen. The
necessary
is behind it.” The woman smiled as she nodded across the bed to a shadowy corner where an ornate screen hid the chamber pot.

Gratefully, Katherine stumbled behind it and relieved her overflowing bladder. As she reemerged, she glanced down at herself. “I seem to have nothing but the sheet, Mrs.…er…” She paused.

“Tooting, dear. Mrs. Tooting. I’m Sir Sidney’s housekeeper and don’t worry, a maid is bringing you something now you’re awake. To be honest--” She looked a little embarrassed. “We wasn’t sure you was going to survive your injuries. Sir Sidney said to leave you be ‘til we knew you’d make it.”

The woman tapped her head with one finger. “Nasty things, them head injuries, so Sir Sidney said.”

“Ahh.” Katherine nodded in agreement. Sir Sidney clearly had some sense about him, since his words bore out what Katherine knew to be true. Head wounds were very nasty things. She was a very lucky woman to have gotten off with just bruises and a bump on her scalp.

A knock heralded a maid bearing a fluffy armful and Mrs. Tooting took it with a smile, dismissing the girl and shutting the door on her wide-eyed curiosity. “Oh good. Here’s something for you to wear. It’s a bit out of date, since there hasn’t been a lady in residence in a good many years, but it should do you for the time being.”

She slipped the froth of fine lace over Katherine’s head. Katherine couldn’t have cared if it was sackcloth ripped from a hay wain, she just wanted
something
to cover her nakedness.
To hide from those eyes
.

“My clothes?” Katherine returned to the bed and sank thankfully against the pillows.

“Your trunk was smashed open and much of what was in it got muddied and soaked. I’ve got some servants working on it, dear, but I don’t know how much they’re goin’ to be able to salvage.” She passed a cup of steaming tea to Katherine. “I would like to know what to call you…”