Bitten By the Earl (Lords of the Night Book Two)

by Sandra Sookoo

  Both men snorted.

  “You are a liar, Rogue.” Manchester poured a measure of brandy into his own snifter and then offered the bottle to Rafe, who nodded, and the duke poured out the amber liquor into his snifter. “We have been best friends since in leading strings. I know you, perhaps better than you know yourself.” He paused, swirling his brandy in his glass. “And I know enough to assume you are bedeviled by a woman. Who wouldn’t be this close to the full moon that could transform your existence?”

  Rafe remained silent while he sipped his own liquor. Heat rose up the back of his neck and he resisted the urge to tug at his suddenly too tight cravat.

  The earl chuckled. Perhaps he found the situation the height of hilarity, which only made Rafe glare. When your time comes, I hope you are flayed open, the same as I feel. But, of course, the earl had already been married, so perhaps he’d gone through his own kind of hell with the death of his wife. “Oh, yes. Rogue is already far gone over the lady in question. I’d even venture to say he’s out of his mind for her.”

  “Ah.” The duke nodded. His brown eyes twinkled. “Then you are in for teasing, Rogue, since you gave me such a hard time when I courted Alice.”

  Oh, God. The heat on the back of his neck intensified. Would Manchester force him to admit that he desired Elizabeth? Perhaps the duke would kill him tonight and put him out of his misery.

  “Well? Who is the lucky lady?” Donovan asked, leaning back in his chair with the air of expectation about him.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Oh, come now. Don’t be shy. We’re all friends here.”

  Coventry, humor in his expression, didn’t help. “Yes, Rogue, why not say her name?”

  In desperate need of courage, Rafe drained his glass and carefully set it upon the tabletop before speaking. He bounced his gaze between his friends and wished Valentine was in attendance to run interference. When they stared back, he sighed. “It is Elizabeth.” He looked at the duke. “Your sister,” he added in the event there was a misunderstanding.

  “I beg your pardon?” Manchester leaned forward, all trace of teasing forgotten as his eyes narrowed. “You are courting my sister, my Elizabeth?”

  I’d rather like to think she’ll be mine soon. But wisely Rafe didn’t say that aloud. “Just what I said. I am attempting to court Lady Elizabeth, for I believe there is something between us.” He looked at the duke and refused to back down in the face of the other man’s budding ire.

  “Absolutely not.” Donovan shook his head. “This is something I cannot sanction.”

  Any other day Rafe would have been amused by the duke’s reticence. Not today, not after his dip into depression and certainly not after Elizabeth’s most recent rejection. “I don’t recall asking your permission.”

  “You should have.” Manchester’s eyes flashed. “But my stance on the subject remains the same.”

  Rafe’s temper began to build. “Why shouldn’t I court her? I have been in love with her for years. It’s never been a secret, and you’ve certainly not taken issue with it, at least to my face.”

  “I agree.” Coventry nodded. He took a sip from his port. “It is a good match between them.”

  “Absolutely not.” Manchester crossed his arms over his chest. His set jaw and narrowed gaze would intimidate lesser men. “I don’t want this life for her. I don’t want her living with a cursed man.”

  “She’s stronger than you assume,” Rafe challenged in a quiet voice. “And she’s developed quite the spirit in recent days. No doubt from bossing you about when you were at your worst,” he couldn’t help but add.

  The duke rolled his eyes. “She is too good a person for the curse, doesn’t deserve that sort of challenge.”

  I quite agree, which is why I’m working to show her living with the beast is a minimal distraction. If only he could do a better job of it when aroused by her. “Let her decide that, but I need time with her so she can make that decision with her heart.”

  “I said no, Rogue.” Manchester narrowed his gaze. “I want Rockingham for her. She won’t have to worry with him. He’s fully human and will treat her well.”

  Whereas I won’t. Rafe’s gums throbbed. He curled his hands into fists to stave off a reaction. “That is still not your decision.”

  Tension filled the air. Donovan didn’t back down. Neither did Rafe. In silence they nursed their drinks, but it wouldn’t take much to set them off.

  Finally, Coventry offered a bit of advice. “You have managed to handle your affliction, keep it under control, and your wife loves you with open arms and heart.” The earl bounced his gaze between them. “Why shouldn’t Rogue have the same chance that you did?”

  Rafe nodded at his friend in silent thanks.

  A growl emanated from Manchester. “Because there is every possibility Rogue will hurt her.” His gaze faltered, and some of the animosity faded from his voice. “I… I couldn’t bear it. She’s all I have left of my family.”

  Both Rafe and Coventry stared at him.

  Despite the surprising admission from the duke, Rafe’s anger continued to rise until his chest ached from it. “What have you become to pass judgment on me?” He grabbed the brandy bottle and with a shaking hand, poured a measure of the amber liquid into his glass.

  “I’m her brother. I have just cause to protect her!” Manchester slammed a hand onto the tabletop. “Do not think to antagonize me in this.”

  “No.” Rafe wrapped his fingers around his glass, merely so he wouldn’t throw a punch at his best friend. “My curse is no worse or no better than yours or Coventry’s or Mountgarret’s. It’s more savage, invasive perhaps, but it is quite the same misery.”

  The duke snorted. “That may be so, but it is different, for you mean to continue to court my sister, and since I’m well acquainted with your particular beast and your prior history with her,” when Rafe raised his eyebrows in surprise, Donovan nodded. “Oh yes, she told me the other day what happened.” He narrowed his eyes. “She deserves better than you, Rogue. She deserves more from life than wondering if you’ll accidentally feed from her and take too much blood one night when your beast demands it.”

  Is that truly what he believed? “I would rather die than let that happen, and that you know too,” he forced out in a whisper.

  “Before you two come to blows, let me speak.” Coventry caught them both in his gaze that gleamed with interest and compassion. “Is Rogue not worthy of your sister? Does he not deserve love, the same as you did?” He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “For not too long ago, you thought yourself too worthless for such a thing as well.”

  “This is true. And he does deserve love. Of course he does. We all do.” Manchester shifted on his chair, but the tension around the table didn’t ease. His gaze bored into Rafe’s. “Does Elizabeth care for you? That would make a difference.” He held up a hand. “Perhaps.”

  The tiny kernel of hope that had bloomed began to shrivel in Rafe’s soul. “No, but I am certain—”

  “Not good enough,” Donovan interrupted. With a set jaw, he stared at Rafe. “If there is no love present on her part, it will never work. Let Elizabeth go, Rogue. Free her to make a match with Rockingham.” He paused and while emotions clawed at Rafe’s gut in an effort to have one take over, the duke continued. His eyes softened. “If you truly love her, let my sister live a life unhindered, a life not remotely connected to the curse and everything it entails.”

  It may have well been a death knoll. Rafe slumped in his seat, his heart shredded, his soul full of holes, the cloud of depression and despair drifting ever closer to engulfing him. He focused on his brandy glass, on the way the candlelight played off the crystal. Perhaps Donovan was right. There was no time to break the curse, anyway—not even for the love of Elizabeth.

  Hysteria rose in his battered chest. Not that she will ever love me.

  Finally, he raised his gaze to Donovan’s. “You will indulge me and let me see her one last tim
e to tell her goodbye?” Mayhap Carmichael had been correct as well. If she couldn’t love all that he was—both parts of him—she wasn’t worthy of him at all.

  “Of course.” The duke nodded. “I’m not that cruel. However, if you disregard my order, no matter what you and I mean to each other, I will not hesitate to demand satisfaction, and on a dueling field, we both know who is the better shot.”

  “Bastard.” It had been ages since either of them had faced a field of honor, but Manchester did have a slight edge on experience with pistols, while Rafe’s weapon of choice was a blade.

  “I’ve been called worse.” He leaned over and grasped Rafe’s shoulder, holding his gaze. “It really is for the best.”

  Rafe waved a hand. “Yours, mine, or hers?” Bitterness rode the question. Was it too much to ask that someone had his best interests at heart, or even asked what he wanted? When Donovan didn’t answer, Rafe shot to his feet, easily dislodging Manchester’s hand. “I’m off. Suddenly, I don’t feel comfortable in my own damn club any longer.”

  “Rogue, don’t—”

  He shook his head. “I’m rather not in the mood to hear more from you this night, Donovan. Your comments border on the hypocritical.” Rafe narrowed his eyes. “So much for friendship. I thought out of everyone you would understand, but then, as a duke, you merely wish for everyone to dance to your whim.” It was an underhanded blow, but so had been the treatment he’d received from the duke.

  Another growl came from Manchester, and before his friend said anything else, Coventry stood.

  “This place is and always will be your refuge from the world, even the world you share with your friends.” He extended a hand to Rafe and they shook. “If you need to talk to someone who is not a complete arsehole,” he shot a withering glance at the duke, “come find me. I will help you through this dark time without judgment. As will Mountgarret if he remains in Town past the full moon ball.”

  The damned event his best friend intended to throw. Rafe questioned whether or not he still planned to attend. “Thank you. I’m not certain what my immediate future will entail. Perhaps I’ll leave London again due to its cooling reception.” Urgency propelled his steps away from the table, pain and despair echoing with every beat of his heart. He had to exit the club, go somewhere to hide, to curse and to argue where he wouldn’t hurt those he cared for, away from the visage of the man he thought was his best friend, the one person who should have sympathized and encouraged above all others.

  Except, that ever-present pull he shared with Elizabeth flared stronger now than ever.

  CHAPTER TEN

  December 12, 1815

  An irregular tapping on her balcony door sent Elizabeth’s pulse tripping through her veins. She hadn’t slept well since that kiss with Rafe three nights ago. He hadn’t attempted to see her or contact her in any way, and she mourned his absence. She might not like his vampire half, but she wished to keep him as a friend, perhaps encourage him as a lover. When the tapping continued, as if someone threw pebbles against the glass, a frisson of excitement shot up her spine as she tossed off the bedclothes.

  Rafe?

  Would he dare? Did she want him to? As she shoved her arms into the sleeves of her silk wrapper, she padded over the cold hardwood floor. At the door, she manipulated the silver hook that kept them locked and then she swung open the French-paned glass panels.

  “Rafe?” she whispered, and the cold breeze that swept inside snatched at her words.

  He vaulted into the room and landed with ease in front of her. With the open doors at his back and the nearly full moon’s illumination framing him, the air of mystery that always surrounded him intensified. “Lizzy.”

  Dear Lord, she would never cease to feel amazement for that special skill he had of moving quickly or using his physical prowess to accomplish things no mortal man could. There were some aspects of his vampire persona that brought out her curiosity.

  Could she summon enough courage to explore that side of him?

  Her breath quickened in time to her pulse. Elizabeth pulled the wrapper more tightly about her body as her awareness of him prickled to life. “What are you doing here?” She kept her voice low. The last thing she needed was for Donovan to wake. After the last conversation with her brother, she didn’t doubt he would toss Rafe from the house and then see him on a dueling field straightaway.

  The red ring around Rafe’s irises glowed, but nothing in his slumped demeanor indicated he was angry or even caught in the throes of desire. In fact, deep grief lined his face, despair clouded his hazel eyes, darkened from the force of his emotions. He shoved a hand through his hair. The bit of leather he used to keep his tresses held back came away and his hair fell in disheveled locks to his shoulders. Why didn’t he wear gloves or even a greatcoat?

  “Rafe?” He would freeze to death if he kept standing there, or else she would.

  He started, and resting his gaze on her, blinking as if he finally saw her, he tossed the bit of leather to the floor. “I almost ended it all, Lizzy,” he said in such a low voice that she could hardly hear him, but his presence filled her bedchamber until she breathed in his cedarwood and cinnamon scent.

  “What does that mean?” A shiver lanced through her that had nothing to do with the cold. Regardless, Elizabeth edged around the obviously broken man to close the balcony doors. When he said nothing, she came about to face him. “What is going on? I’m worried for you.” Never had she seen him so mired in melancholy.

  His haunted eyes bore into hers. “After we kissed, after you ran from me, I didn’t feed for two nights. I was ready to die, intended upon it, for without you, what do I have to live for?”

  “You tried to kill yourself?” Hurt and shock gripped her chest as if they were twin giant fists. She couldn’t breathe, for she’d done that to him. “Did you come to your senses?” Of course he had. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here now. What a twit, Elizabeth. Had it been his beast who’d decreed such dramatic actions, or had that been a creation of his human side?

  “Hardly.” He snorted, and he followed her with his gaze as she paced. “My damned valet rode in like a bloody hero and carried me off to the club, whereupon he thrust me into Coventry’s care. It would seem the love of my friends has kept me in this world a little longer.” He shook his head. “I am not certain I wish to remain, for why should I?”

  For me. Aloud, she said, “Look around you. There is still much joy to find.” When he didn’t appear convinced, she rushed on as panic crawled over her skin. She couldn’t lose him, not when she was increasingly confused about him, craved his kisses, now more than ever. “And it’s nearly Christmastide. You always enjoyed that season. There is so much to do.”

  Rafe shook his head. “The holiday falls flat this year.” Once more he met her gaze. The red ring around his irises hadn’t faded and left an eerie glow in the dark room. “There is nothing I want, or if there is, sadly it is not attainable, as fate has cruelly shown me.”

  If Rafe wasn’t in her life in some capacity, what would become of her? For so long, she’d convinced herself she didn’t need him, but it had all been lies. How could she cut someone like him from the very fabric of her existence? It was much like cutting off a limb, yet the fear she held for him remained.

  And made her run. Always running. Why can I not reconcile the two halves of him?

  Because being with a vampire simply isn’t done, her consciousness shot back. How vulgar would it be to have afternoon tea interrupted by him asking, “Darling, if you don’t mind, may I sink my fangs into your neck and drink your blood? I rather prefer that to jam and sponge cakes.”

  She shoved that thought to the recesses of her mind. “Do you not wish to break the curse?” The words felt pulled from her tight throat.

  “For you?” Bitter laughter filled the air between them. “That one chance is but four days hence. Obviously, you and I are no closer to love and devotion than God and the devil are.”

  Ah, then he wished to rema
in connected to his beast. Why? “All of that aside, why are you here, in my bedchamber, just after midnight?” If his wish was to ply her with kisses in order to change her mind, there’d be nowhere to run from him this time if the fangs came out.

  “To tell you goodbye.” He blew out a breath and dropped his gaze. “To set you free.”

  “Why?” Panic twisted through her gut. “Are you going away again?” Obviously, it would solve part of her problem. Out of sight, out of mind. The trouble was she didn’t want him out of her mind. If only she could reconcile with the more graphic part of him. She wanted the man but she didn’t wish to tangle with the vampire.

  Why do I have such a character flaw?

  “Why? You have the gall to ask me why.” Rafe snapped up his head and once more found her gaze with his. The red ring glowed more strongly. Did he refer to their conversation or the question in her head? “Your brother has ordered me to cease calling on you, for any reason.”

  Damn you, Donovan. “He doesn’t hold authority over me.”

  “That may be so, but he is a duke. I have little choice.” He took a step toward her as anger flitted across his face. “He went so far as to hint that he would kill me if I don’t do as he says. Betrayed by my own best friend.”

  Elizabeth’s heart went out to him. Donovan had gone too far. “Perhaps you misunderstood.”

  “Did I? He mentioned he’d talked with you and that you had told him of our history.” Accusation hung on the words. “Why now did you break your silence?”

  Shock ricocheted through her chest. “I gave him the bare story, mentioned no details or anything personal. I…” Oh, dear, how to explain? “I couldn’t sleep the night after he returned home. He asked me why, assumed it was a man I thought of.” Her words came out so fast her tongue tripped over them. “I admitted it was you and he warned me away.”