Bitten Too (4 page)

"My lady," said the butler with a slight bow.

"Oh, good. You were close, Jaspins. I'm going out. Would you be so kind as to order around one of the carriages?" She tied her bonnet's ribbon under her chin.

"Of course, my lady." He bowed and turned on his heel.

I have to get out of here. Jorge could come any minute.
She imagined she sensed his approach. Her fingers fumbled on her cloak, and she dropped it.

"Are you sure you're all right, Yasmine?" asked her mother, coming down the hallway from the parlor.

"Why? Because I dropped my cloak?" She retrieved
it
and sent
the heavy material
around her shoulders.

Her mother folded her hands together. "More to do with the fact that you're planning to wear a cloak at all. My dear, it must be close to eighty degrees. You'll swelter."

Yasmine glanced out a window at the sunny driveway. "Right." She removed her wrap and returned it to the closet. "I really am fine."

"I wonder if you might benefit more from a nap. It's a bit early for calling."

And have Jorge come to me in my room again?
Her hands shook at the idea. "I can't." She swallowed. "I mean, I wouldn't sleep.
Why
waste
my
time
trying?
"

Wheels crunched, and Jaspins strode from the back hallway. "Your carriage, my lady." He
slowly marched
to the front door and opened it.

"Don't count on me for luncheon, Mother," she said, hurrying to escape. "I'll likely eat at the Malveaux's."

Her mother gave a little wave. A bemused half-smile lifted the right side of her face.

Yasmine didn't wait to learn if she had anything to add. She forced her feet to a stately pace down the steps and toward the carriage. The front door closed. As she grasped her skirt with anxious fingers and lifted a foot to the carriage's step, horse hooves sounded on the lane leading to her house.

She didn't need to peek
.
Somehow, she sensed
Jorge
’s eyes on her
.
She
sigh
ed
and
lowered her foot to the gravel.
She'd only appear desperate
if she
tri
ed to
run.

His horse clattered onto the drive, and Yasmine pasted a polite smile into place. "Good morning, Lord Grauwolf."

"Miss Hanswald," he said,
tipping
his hat. "I see I've caught you on your way out." He brought his mount to a halt.

"Yes, unfortunately." Her stomach clenched. "I'm sorry about it. I know you'd hoped for a visit this morning."

"Another time, perhaps." His eyes narrowed, dark and predatory beneath his brow.

"Perhaps," she agreed, offering a reluctant nod.

"I suppose I should call on Lord and Lady Malveaux. My aunt's been urging me to pay my respects while I'm in town."

She froze.

"Awkward, really," he said, his tone casual and in contrast to his intense expression. "After the death of Youel, I mean. What's to be said?"

He'd outmaneuvered her, damn the man. If she went to see Amelia, she'd be rude for not offering to travel together. If she stayed home, she'd appear rude for not asking him in for their visit. She had nowhere to go. Lady Grauwolf's mansion was absolutely out of the question.

She fisted his hands in her skirt. "What a coincidence," she said, somehow able to sound light and friendly. "I'm just headed there myself."

In an instant, he swung off his horse. "In that case, let me offer my company." He handed his reins to the groom. "I can come back for my horse later."

Flexing her jaw, she placed her foot on the step. Alone with Jorge in a carriage? Not a good idea.

Chapter Four

His chance had arrived. Jorge fairly shook at the thought of finally avenging his brother. With Yasmine at Jorge's side, the were-king would not only admit him into his presence, his guard would be lowered. He couldn't have planned this better if he'd tried.

Jorge offered his arm to help Yasmine into the carriage. He climbed in after her and took a seat on the opposite bench. A slight frown marred her alabaster brow
. H
e wasn't entirely welcome. He didn't care.

"Thank you for allowing me to accompany you," he said as the carriage rolled toward the lane.

She kept her eyes to the window and didn't reply.

"About last night—"

"The less said, the better." Her gaze found his. Her throat and cheeks pinked.

"You're embarrassed." He fought a smile. He'd been right about her. She was sweet and good, the two qualities most lacking in his life.

"Of course I'm embarrassed." Her long fingers fluttered to her throat then down to the neckline of her gown.

"What do you want, Yasmine?" He leaned forward.

She glanced at her lap. "What do you mean?"

"I think I was clear."

A spark of spirit lit her dark eyes when she looked up. "I want what every lady wants. An honorable man to marry. A future promising stability without boredom. Children. Love."

He wasn't worthy of her, and they both knew it.
An honorable man to marry
. The first item on her list, and it slapped him. Hard.

He'd never wanted marriage or children. He hadn't given much thought to his future, for that matter. Now, in this carriage with her, he began to wonder. What would his life be like with Yasmine at his side?

First, he'd have to give up his rakish ways. Not yet, however.

He took the hand at her neckline, letting his fingers linger to brush the upper swells of her lovely breasts. "I'm fortunate you haven't found your
honorable
man yet.
I have the
chance to enjoy you in the meantime." He kissed her knuckles.

She shook her head. "You're wrong about me."

He arched his eyebrows while massaging his thumb in circles on her palm. "Am I?"

"Why'd you come to Rift, Lord Grauwolf?"

"Jorge."

"Fine. Why are you here, Jorge? You're not passing through,
as
you'd have your aunt believe, and you're not visiting. What's your purpose?"

His spine stiffened. Was he more transparent than he realized, or did she have some kind of sixth sense? "I'm here for answers."

"Don't lie to me. I recognize that your trip here is about your brother, but don't try to convince me you're here solely for information. You're too intent."

He moved to the seat next to her, his knee touching hers. It gratified him that she didn't shy away. "Maybe I've come for an amorous adventure. Maybe I have only mayhem and mischief on my mind. You've already pointed out that I'm a rakehell of the first order."

She assessed him, her countenance passive but her breathing faster. Before she could speak, however, they turned off the road onto the Malveaux drive.

As the castle manor came into view, anticipation vibrated through him. He released her hand and forced himself to relax against the seatback.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Beg pardon?" He kept his gaze on the approaching building.

"Something's wrong." She put her hand on his wrist.

Hairs stood on end along his arm. She was too perceptive by half. "Why does something have to be amiss? Can't I be nervous to meet Lord and Lady Malveaux for the first time?"

She barked a pretty laugh. "You? Nervous? No. I don't believe
you
for a second."

They arrived at the front and came to a stop. A butler emerged and descended the few steps.

"My lady," said the man with a bow. "I'm sorry to say you've come when my lord and lady are out. A pressing matter called them away early."

"How disappointing," said Yasmine.

The butler met Jorge's gaze, and an understanding passed between them. The servant sniffed in a distinctly werewolf manner. "My lady, perhaps you'd like to come inside." He placed a hand on the door's handle.

"She's fine," said Jorge, fighting an urge to wrinkle his nose in warning. "I'll see her home, good man. Please
inform
Lord Malveaux that Lady Yasmine and the Marquis of Austral came calling. We'll try again another time."

The man looked to her. "My lady, you're very welcome to come inside." He cut a quick glance at Jorge.

Yasmine smiled kindly. "Thank you, Butters. That's generous of you, but Lord Grauwolf's right. It's better if I go home."

The butler retreated a step and bowed.

As they headed toward the road, she leaned near and asked, "What was that all about?" Her brow angled sharply.

He shrugged.

"Don't play ignorant."

"Then don't play the prude." He reached over and cupped her breast. He rubbed his thumb across the hardening nub of her nipple.

She slapped him. "You're too bold
.
"
She crossed her arms and stared out the window.

He touched fingertips to his tingling cheek and smiled. He appreciated her spunk.

"A lady wants to be gently wooed, not grabbed or pawed." She huffed.

He smiled bigger at her choice of words. If only she knew… "Is that an invitation to court you?"

Rubbing her palms on the fabric covering her knees, she said, "To be honest, I'm not sure. You vex me so often, and I admit to making an attempt to avoid you this morning."

"That's remarkably honest of you."

She faced him. "But there's a quality about you that appeals to me beyond reason. I'm confused." She glanced out the window and frowned. "The moon's out. How odd. Did you know tonight's a full moon?"

"I did." Even as he said the words, the lunar pull
ignited
his blood. The pull had been with him since the day before. The restlessness
driving him
since puberty grew greater than ever. "Come to my aunt's house with me."

She shook her head. "I'd be pleased to have my driver deliver you on my way home, but I can't stay. I'll have a stable hand bring your horse from my father's house." She knocked on the roof then opened the window and instructed her driver.

"Yasmine." A stirring of desire
flared
. He had to touch her.

She closed the window. "Yes?"

He took her hand. Cupping his fingers alongside her long, slender neck, he stared into her widening eyes. "I need you," he whispered. His gaze went to her lips a moment before he captured them with his own.

She stiffened, but only briefly. As he tilted,
brush
ing his mouth across her sweet lips, she softened.
S
he pressed into his kiss on a feminine moan of surrender that fed the flames in his belly. She sent her fingers into his hair and closed her eyes.

He closed his, too. Urging her to open, he lost himself in her. The silken slide of her tongue along his. The scent of Queen Anne's lace and orchid that clung to her hair and skin. The
welcoming curves
of her body against him.

Their breathing grew louder, filling the cab with the sound of their burgeoning excitement. Her sensuality drew him irresistibly, as though she bore a bit of the moon inside her. Despite an urgent hunger for her, he gentled. He slowed his kiss and his caresses, and the more patient he became, the
greater her passion grew
.

She groaned while her arms went about his shoulders and her lace-encased breasts crushed to his jacket. Her physical response to his attention sharp
ly
contrast
ed
the indignant prig she tried to
act
. He liked how she
endeavored to behave as
a lady of propriety, but with him, she
couldn't
.

He also liked how her morning attire offered far fewer restrictions and constraints than her eveningwear of the night before. Her breasts rode free above her smaller corset, covered only by two thin layers of cloth. No petticoat. No tight fabric and frustrating buttons.

He had to see how far she'd let him go, and more than anything, he wished to see her take pleasure. Without breaking their intensifying kiss, he extended his arm, getting his hand as close to her hem as he could manage. He gathered her sheer blue muslin and satiny chemise to her knees. When his fingers skimmed her stocking-softened knee, she gasped and clamped a staying hand to his.

"Let me," he whispered.

The carriage dipped into a rut, sending his fingers deeper between her warm legs. Her accusing eyes went wide. "Jorge!"

"Please, Yasmine. Let me pleasure you. Give into this day's moon magic."