The Pursuit of Pleasure (40 page)

“I think a change of schools is in order. What d’you say, Sarah?”

“Oh, I would love it above all things.”

When they finished eating, the earl gave a speaking nod to his wife and she excused herself so that her husband could have privacy for the chat with his daughter.

Cadogan led his daughter to a chair before the fire and sat down opposite her. “The time has come when we must think about your future, Sarah.”

She nodded but made no reply, knowing there was more to come.

“I have no son, so I want the very best for my daughter.” He paused to let his words sink in. “For some time now I havebeen searching for a suitable match for you. I would never consider any noble of a lower rank than my own.”

Sarah’s blue eyes widened.
You are talking about finding a future husband for me.

“Not only must he be titled, he must be heir to wealth and property.”

You married a lady from the Netherlands. I hope you don’t look for a match for me here. She clasped her hands together tightly. I want to live in England.

“I have been offered a match for you that surpasses all my expectations. It is an undreamed-of opportunity that will raise you to the pinnacle of the aristocracy. A premier Duke of the Realm has asked for your hand in marriage for his son and heir.”

Sarah sat silently as questions chased each other through her mind.
Who? Where?

When?
But most puzzling was
why?

William Cadogan’s face was beaming. “The Duke of Richmond is offering marriage with his son, Charles Lennox, the Earl of March.” He leaned forward and patted her hand. “Sarah, my dear, you will be the Countess of March, and the future Duchess of Richmond.”

“I … I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “Are we to be betrothed?”

Her father waved a dismissive hand. “You are to be
wed,
not betrothed!” He loosened his neckcloth. “Fortunately, Richmond and his son are here at The Hague.”

“So we will be able to meet each other and see if we suit?” she asked shyly.

“Of course you will suit! The marriage contracts have already been drawn up. You will meet each other at your wedding … tomorrow.”

Sarah was stunned as a sparrow flown into a wall.
“Tomorrow?”

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“Y
ou shouldn’t go in there.” The husky,
very female
voice stopped Zane cold just as he prepared to climb the steps leading up to Dusk.

The voice was laced with a soft drawl, edged with a breath of sex, and it crawled over his body like a caress.

A demon shoved past him, heading inside Dusk, and when the door opened, the beat of the music blasted Zane’s ears and the scent of drugs burned his nostrils.

“Of course, you don’t have to listen to me,” she murmured.
Jana.
He turned his head a few inches to the right and saw her slide from the darkness. “It can be your funeral.”

She looked vulnerable. Small, delicate. Almost helpless as she stood in the shadows with her arms crossed over her chest. Watching him with such big eyes.

But her words … “Ah … did you just threaten me?” He moved away from the door. Turned his back on the den and began to stalk her.

She crept once more toward the shadows and he followed her. His heart rate kicked up.
She’s making it too easy.

“You won’t believe this,” she told him, “but I’m not the threat tonight. Well, not the one you need to be worried about.”

She was close enough to grab now.

A soft sigh slipped past her lips as her hands dropped to her sides. “You shouldn’t have come here. You should’ve just taken the demon in and called it a day.”

A shocked laugh broke from his lips, one without a drop of humor. “Lady, you
killed
someone in that alley.”

She flinched. “The vampire would have killed me. I didn’t have a choice.” Her right hand lifted and rubbed against her chest. Thanks to his demon-enhanced senses, he saw the blood on her shirt, and he caught the coppery scent on the wind. “What did you want me to do?” she asked, and heat blasted through her words. “Just stand there and let him cut my heart out?”

A muscle jerked in his jaw.

“Or maybe I should have waited for you,” she muttered, those sexy eyes narrowing, “like he wanted. I should have waited, and then I should have made sure you were the one who didn’t walk out of that alley.”

His hands flew out and he caught her, pulling her close and lifting her right off her toes. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m easy to kill.”

Her chin inched up. “And you don’t need to make the mistake of thinking you’re immortal. Everyone can die.
Everyone.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you, baby? You kill for the highest bidder.”

She didn’t blink. Those eyes stayed locked on him, still blue. The fire hadn’t lit within her yet. If it had, her eyes would have been bloodred.

“Do you know what I did to the last Ignitor who came at me with fire in her eyes?” he demanded. Her mouth was temptingly close. He’d kissed that mouth before. Tasted her. Wanted more.
Fool.

A guy’s dick could get him into some serious trouble.

“Dumb ass,” she said, and his eyes narrowed. “I’m not charging up. I’m trying to
warn
you.”

“About what?”

“My … services.” The right side of her mouth kicked up into a hard smile, and damn if a dimple didn’t wink at him.
Deceptive package.
“Who do you think the number-one target is in this town? Who do you think the demons want taken out? The vamps?”

Shit.

“That’s right.
You.
The vamp in that alley wanted you taken out, and he sure wasn’t the only one to want a fried demon handed to him.” Her gaze darted behind him to Dusk. “The demons sure don’t like that you’ve been hunting your own kind.”

Fuck ‘em. “I don’t hunt them all.” What? Was he defending himself? To her? “Just the ones who cross the line.” His fingers were digging too hard into her arms.

He took a breath and let her slide back to the ground, let her feet touch down, but he didn’t free her. Wouldn’t. He had plans for Jana Carter.

“What line?” she asked him, shaking her head. “The one
you
made up? The one that says some folks are bad, some are good, and smart, all-powerful you gets to punish the ones you
think
screwed up?”

He glared at her. Like she could judge him.

“Maybe I
should
let them rip you apart.” Her tongue flashed out to lick her bottom lip.

He couldn’t help it. His stare dipped and followed that fast lick. His body tightened.
Damn.
He took a breath and swore he tasted her. “If you’d been smart, you would’ve left town. After you killed the vamp, you should have run.”

“Maybe.” A shrug. “But you came into the fire for me.”

Because he’d thought she needed him. Thought she was a human who’d needed rescuing. The truth was that the woman could have gotten out of that house without the flames even touching one inch of her perfect skin.

“No one’s ever tried to save me before,” she added. “I thought you were … sweet.”

He growled.

“So I wanted to even the score.”

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“M
an up, for God’s sake, and drop the damn thing.”

He supposed he should be thankful she could only turn his heart to stone.

“We’re not sending in nude shots,” Roan replied through an even smile, even as the chants and taunts escalated. “So, I don’t understand the need to take things to such an extreme—”

“The contest rules state, very clearly and deliberately, that they’re looking for provocative,” Tessa responded, sounding every bit like a person who’d also been forced into a task she’d rather not have taken on. Which she had been.

Sadly, that fact had not brought them closer.

She shifted to yet another camera she’d mounted on yet another tripod, he supposed so the angle of the sun was more to her liking. “Okay, lean back against the stone wall, prop one leg, rest that … sword thing of yours—”

“’Tis a claymore. Belonged to the McAuleys for four centuries. Victorious in battle, ‘tis an icon of our clan.” And heavy as all hell to foist about.

“Lovely. Prop your icon in front of you, then. I’m fairly certain it will hide what needs hiding.”

His eyebrows lifted at that, but rather than take offense, hemerely grinned. “I wouldnae be so certain of it, lassie. We’re a clan known for the size of our … swords.”

“Yippee,” she shot back, clearly unimpressed. “So, drop the plaid, position your … sword, and let’s get on with it. It’s the illusion of baring it all we’re going for here. I’ll make sure to preserve your fragile modesty.”

She was no fun. No fun ‘tall.

“The other guys did it,” she added, resting folded hands on the top of the camera. “In fact,” she went on, without even the merest hint of a smile or dry amusement, “they seemed quite happy to accommodate me.”

He couldn’t imagine any man wanting to bare his privates for Miss Vandergriff’s pleasure. Not if he wanted to keep them intact, at any rate.

He was a bit thrown off by his complete inability to charm her. He charmed everyone. It was what he did. He admittedly enjoyed, quite unabashedly, being one of the clan favorites because of his affable, jovial nature. As far as he was concerned, the world would be a much better place if folks could get in touch with their happy parts, and stay there.

He didn’t know much about her, but from what little time they’d spent together this afternoon, he didn’t think Tessa Vandergriff had any happy parts. However, the reason behind her being rather happiness-challenged wasn’t going to be his mystery to solve. She’d been on the island for less than a week now, and her stay on Kinloch was as a guest, and therefore temporary. Thank the Lord.

The island faced its fair share of ongoing trials and tribulations, and had the constant challenge of sustaining a fragile economic resource. Despite that, he’d always considered both the McAuley and MacLeod clans as being cheerful, welcoming hosts. But they had enough to deal with without adopting a surly recalcitrant into their midst.

“Well,” he said, smiling broadly the more her scowl deepened. “’Tis true, the single men of this island have little enough to choose from.” The crowd took a collective breath at that, but his attention was fully on her now. Gripping the claymore in one fist, he leaned against the stacked stone wall, well aware of the tableau created by the twin peaks that framed the MacLeod fortress, each of them towering behind him. He braced his legs, folded his arms across his bare chest, sword blade aloft … and looked her straight in the eye as he let a slow, knowing grin slide across his face. “Me, I’m no’ so desperate as all that.”

That got a collective gasp from the crowd. But rather than elicit so much as a snarl from Miss Vandergriff, or perhaps goading her so far as to pack up and walk away—which he’d have admittedly deserved—she shocked him instead. By smiling. Fully. He hadn’t thought her face capable of arranging itself in such a manner. And so broadly, too, with such stunning gleam. He was further damned to discover it did things to his own happy parts that she had no business affecting.

“No worries,” she stated, further captivating him with the transformative brilliance of her now knowing smile. She gave him a sizzling once over before easily meeting his eyes again. “You’re not my type.”

This was not how things usually went for him. He felt … frisked. “Then I’m certain you can be objective enough to find an angle that shows off all my best parts without requiring a more blatant, uninspired pose. I understand from Kira that you’re considered to be quite good with that equipment.”

The chants of the crowds shifted to a few whistles as the tension between photographer and subject grew to encompass even them.

“Given your reluctance to play show-and-tell, I’d hazard to guess I’m better with mine than you are with yours,” she replied easily, but the spark remained in her eyes.

Goading him.

“Why don’t you be the judge?” Holding her gaze in exclusive focus, the crowd long since forgotten now, he pushed away from the wall and, with sword in one hand, slowly unwrapped his kilt with the other.

He took far more pleasure than was absolutely necessary from watching her throat work as he unashamedly revealed thighs and ass. He wasn’t particularly vain or egotistical, but he was well aware that a lifetime spent climbing all over this island had done its duty where his physical shape was concerned, as it had for most of the islanders. They were a hardy lot.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd as he held a fistful of unwrapped plaid in front of him, dangling precariously from one hand, just on the verge of—

That’s it! Tessa all but leapt behind the camera and an instant later, the shutter started whirring. Less than thirty seconds later, she straightened and pushed her wayward curls out of her face, her no-nonsense business face back on track. “Got it. Good! We’re all done here.” She started dismantling her equipment. “You can go ahead and get dressed,” she said, dismissively, not even looking at him now.

He held on to the plaid—and his pride—and tried not to look as annoyed as he felt. The shoot was blessedly over. That was all that mattered. No point in being irritated that he’d just been played by a pro.

She glanced up, the smile gone as she dismantled her second tripod with the casual grace of someone so used to the routine and rhythm of it she didn’t have to think about it. “I’ll let you know when I get the shots developed.”