by Gayle Keo
His brow shot up his forehead. “Oh?”
She opened her mouth to give a retort, but another voice stopped her.
“Emily?”
Hudson's shocked face filled the doorway. How she had forgotten about the door was well and truly beyond Emily. She knew what it must look like, with Owen standing in the middle of the room wearing nothing but his shirt, and she wearing only her chemise. Their scattered clothing a clear indication of their late afternoon activities.
“Oh, Hudson, I...I'm sorry.” She should have said more, but no words would come out of her throat.
“We were to go to the Avington's soiree tonight, I...the butler let me in, I've been waiting...”
Her stomach sank. Why the butler hadn't come to her, or why he hadn't sent Hudson on his way was well beyond her understanding right this moment. It didn't matter.
“I...can't.”
“That is clear. I will...excuse me. I should leave.”
Hudson swept out of the room.
“I told you he was a ponce.”
Emily brought her hand clearly across Owen's face, this time the slap, unmuted by gloves, was truly satisfying. He said nothing as she stormed out of the room.
~*~
The Briarmont gala was everything an end of season gala ought to be, bright, and cheerful and filled with new couples who were adamantly engaged in showing off who they had managed to snag. Emily wasn't sure that she had ever been more depressed to see couples together before.
She had arrived without escort, which had already caused a stir, and managed to corner Hudson Wright in the Briarmont's rather resplendent music room.
“Hudson, we must talk.”
“No, Miss Crawford, I am not entirely sure that we do.”
He was angry, and she could hardly blame him. He paced across the span of the music room, clearly not sure if he would leave her there or yell at her.
When he had worn himself out, he plopped unceremoniously onto a piano bench. He looked pitiful, and she realized that she hadn't just hurt him, she had broken his heart.
“Was it the kiss? Was it so terrible?”
She thought it was very unfair that he asked. He had been there, after all, he knew exactly how terrible it had been. Still, perhaps it had only been so terrible for her because she had had something terribly wonderful to compare it to.
“There was nothing wrong with the kiss. It is only that I hadn't realized until that moment that my heart belonged to another.” She moved to sit next to him on the bench, he slid to one side to afford her enough space.
“Why him? If there were a man who were gentler, or wealthier, or even more willing to marry you I would understand. But he...he is not any of that.” He splayed his hands on his knees, looking more at the floor than to her.
“I don't know,” she answered as honestly as she could. “He is a difficult man, he is stubborn and he is most uncouth. I do not know why I care for him, but I do.”
“You made a fool of me.”
She looked down. “I know. Does it help if I say that it was never my intention?”
“No, not really.” He sighed and looked down at his lap. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, oh of course not! You were perfect. You are perfect.”
“And yet you are not going to wed me.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I'm not.”
“You will wed him.”
She felt tears fill her eyes. “No, it does not look as if that will happen either.”
It was a mark of just how kind a man Hudson was when his concern colored his features. “Emily, what do you mean? He...well...he..”
“I am supremely aware of what he did, but Mister Harding is adamant that he has no desire to be married, not even to me,” her tears filled her eyes. “Forgive me, I don't mean to...to..” She found that she could not finish her statement.
“Oh, Emily.”
He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and bent his brow to hers, offering a kerchief for her tears. She took it. For a long time, he simply held her as she cried. She had not the first clue what she had done to gain such friendship from a man.
“I know that there is not love between us. But there is, I believe, friendship.”
“You would still be friends with me after what I have done?”
“Forgiveness and understanding are both terrible character flaws of mine,” he said with a shadow of a smile on his lips.
“So, you forgive me?”
“You did what you did out of love, did you not?”
“I did.”
“Then yes,” he placed his hand over hers. “I forgive you.”
“What am I going to do?”
He took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers over hers. “I am afraid that is not a question for me to answer. While I would be more than willing to hunt down the scamp who made you feel this way and demand that he takes you to the altar...I am of the opinion that this would make no one happy.”
Emily dabbed her eyes with his kerchief. “No, no I am afraid it wouldn't.”
“Well, maybe I can be of service.”
Emily and Hudson jumped at the sound of Owen's voice. For a moment she was sure that she was imagining things.
“Mister Harding.” Hudson surged to his feet. “What exactly are you doing here?”
“Well, I am Miss Crawford's appointed escort to this nonsense.” He waved one flippant hand in the general direction of the party. “It would be improper if I weren't here, wouldn't it?”
Emily adjusted her seat on the piano bench, turning her back to Owen. “As if you have ever cared one fig for propriety.”
“That is...true enough. However, in the weeks since you have left your rather impressive mark on my cheek, I realized that I do care more than a few figs for you.”
“I should leave,” Hudson said.
“No, no not yet,” Owen said. “I owe you an apology as well and I am sure that if I don't say it now, I won’t.”
Emily and Hudson shared a glance.
“Alright,” Hudson stood up.
“I have been a terrible brute, and while I have many reasons for such, I have come to realize that they are excuses. I have admitted to Emily, and now to you Lord Hudson, that my father was a rather despicable creature, and while I will not go into details I have come to believe that I never felt worthy of friendship, nor of love because of it...”
If Emily didn't know any better, she would have believed that Owen's voice broke. He cleared his throat and went on.
“I have acted a terrible fool, and I would like to know what I can do to fix that.”
“You know, Emily, I'm not entirely sure that this is Owen at all.”
Emily stood up and gently pushed passed Hudson. Her hand went to Owen's cheek and he tilted his face until she could stare into those beautiful eyes, and their starburst color.
“Oh it is,” she whispered. “It certainly is.”
“Am I forgiven?”
Lord Hudson took a very deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I will leave it to the lady to decide.”
Emily ran her thumb across the dip in Owen's chin. “There will be a great deal for you to make up for. You can start, of course, by agreeing to marry me.”
“Are you proposing to me?”
“I am,” she smiled as his lips dipped towards hers. '
“That is most unladylike,” he whispered. “I approve.”
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 36 of 36
The Unbitten
Nicole’s first week in the city confused the hell out of her. She’d spent the weekend unpacking, and on Monday she’d started her new job at the hospital. All pretty routine, until she’d gone for a run after her shift—and she’d been attacked not once, but twice.
The attacks had baffled and terrified her. Each of the dark-shrouded men had appeared out of nowhere, seizing her shoulders and pressing their mouths to her neck. Both time
s, she’d been unable to cry out because something had stalled the sound in her throat. As heat burned her skin, she remained helpless, fearing a sexual assault or death at the hands of her unseen assailant.
But both men had cried out in pain and spun away, staggering into the night as if she’d dealt them a powerful blow to the midriff. She could only watch with watering eyes as they stumbled into the shadows and vanished from sight. The attacks had taken place six minutes apart; she knew because it had taken her eight minutes to cross the park and she’d been counting her steps to gauge the distance across the tree-rich area in the middle of the city. One hundred and twenty steps into her count, she’d been seized for the first time and held in a grip as firm as iron.
“Goodnight, lady.” The voice, a quiet hiss in her ear, sent chills through her body. It contrasted with the burning sensation in her neck. But even as she’d begun to accept her life was ending, she was hurled aside, to stagger onto the grass beside the path. The wailing man bent double as he made his erratic way into the darkness, leaving Nicole to wonder what the hell had happened.
Naturally, she fled, wanting to escape the scene as quickly as possible, but she hadn’t reached the far side of the park before she was attacked a second time. She was too shocked to note the peculiar similarities in the attacks until later, although the second assailant whispered ‘Night, night, little lady,’ instead of ‘Goodnight.’ It was only later, in the relative safety of her apartment, that she was able to puzzle over the details.
Why had the two men—she was certain it hadn’t been the same man twice—targeted her? And why had they both been driven away? She’d done nothing to fight them off; she’d barely moved a muscle. Some peculiar paralysis had overcome her body, rendering her completely vulnerable to their attack. And why had both men zeroed in on her neck? She rubbed the skin below her ear. It was still hot and tingling, over an hour later.
Over the next few days, Nicole hadn’t dared venture outside, except to hurry out to work. If it was dark when she headed home, she took a taxi, racing back into her apartment and barricading her door. She was haunted by furtive shadows, peripheral phantasms that hovered nearby, but vanished immediately if she turned to challenge them. The only place she felt truly safe was inside the hospital.
But even that fragile security was shaken when, on her fourth day in the city, when she was sent to the medical records section in the hospital’s basement. In corridors completely devoid of natural light, and illuminated only by sickly fluorescents that ought to have been replaced a decade earlier, her anxiety quickly returned. She clutched her hundred-decibel personal alarm tightly, wishing the hospital had sent a runner instead.
“Interesting. I don’t often receive visitors.” A man stepped out of the shadows ahead and studied her. His hands were jammed deep into his white coat, which partly concealed a crumpled shirt and over-sized pants. Nicole’s grip tightened around the alarm. Her thumb stroked the rubber button on its top edge.
“A silent one, huh?” he continued. “Or does the darkness bother you?”
“I’m here… here for… for the…” Nicole cursed her nerves. She was supposed to be a professional nurse, not some trembling teenager.
“The Bartlett X-rays?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“They’re on my desk.” He indicated his office with a sweep of his hand.
“Oh,” she said. He obviously expected her to step forward, but her feet were frozen in place.
He smiled. “It’s okay, I’ll bring them out. You’re new here, right?”
“Mm-hmm,” Nicole said as the man disappeared into his office. Ten seconds later, he reappeared, holding a large envelope. When he offered it to her, she lifted a pale hand and took hold. But when she tried to retrieve it, he didn’t release his grip.
“There’s no need to fear me, Nicole,” he said softly. “No need at all.” When she raised her gaze to meet his, he smiled gently. “I’m not going to bite you.”
“You’re not going to bite me,” she repeated softly, without knowing why. Her tension melted away; the trembling faded from her hand.
“I’m fascinated by you, Nicole. I would love to know more about you.”
“Love to know more?” she echoed, then frowned. Why was she imitating a parrot? Her eyes widened as the man leaned closer, still gripping his side of the X-ray folder. His scent was warm, earthy with a comforting hint of strawberry. Her body relaxed further, even as tingles of danger filled her mind. Who was this man with the dark, entrancing eyes? Why was he wearing a white coat, but no hospital ID badge?
She managed to form a single word. “Who?” Who are you? What are you doing here?
But he brushed her lips with his fingertip. “Hush, Nicole. Everything is fine. You’re in no danger.” She sensed irony in his phrasing; deceit in his words, but still she was unable to move a muscle. He leaned closer. His breath was hot on her neck. His hand stroked her jaw, tilting her head subtly. The memories of her attack flooded back and she tried to scream, but her throat remained silent as his lips brushed against her skin. Again? she cried mutely. Why is it happening again? But the contact was momentary. He eased back with a sudden jerk, then inhaled deeply, as if he was analyzing her scent.
“What is it about you?” he asked softly. “Why am I still unable to bear your touch?”
I wish I knew. Please let me go.
“Maybe if I ask the right questions, you’ll tell me what I need to know.” His hands cupped her shoulders as he gazed deep into her eyes. She started to fall headlong into those dark, hypnotic orbs, before she caught herself and fought back. He frowned as she struggled mentally against him.
“You resist me. But how is this possible?”
Because I refuse to give in to you, you bully! His hands moved onto her cheeks. He tilted her head and leaned closer. His breath warmed her cheeks as he searched her face. Nicole was acutely aware of her exposed neck. He moved closer still, close enough to kiss her if he chose. For a moment, she feared he might try.
But a deep voice rang out, echoing along the dimly-lit corridor. “Michael! Enough!”
The man straightened instantly and glared at the speaker. “What business is it of yours?”
“It is my business because I have already laid claim to this woman.”
Michael snorted. “You tried to claim her, but she repelled you. I saw you whine and whimper as you fell away.”
“As did you, if I remember correctly.”
Michael shrugged. “So neither of us was successful that night. But now you can see I have her in my power, and you are intruding.”
“Tut, tut.” The other man moved into Nicole’s peripheral vision, wagging a finger. “Our rules are clear. She is not yours, because you have yet to taste her.”
Oh my God! What the hell? Nicole wailed silently.
Michael shrugged. “A technicality, Adam. Nothing more.”
Adam folded his arms. “Then taste her. Claim her as your own—if you can.”
No, please! Let me go!
Michael sighed. “You know I cannot.”
“Then you must allow me to try.”
“No! She is mine. I claim her blood.”
What kind of hell is this? I want to go back to Boston! As Nicole struggled against the compulsion inflicted upon her, Adam laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder.
“You cannot, my brother. Now step aside.”
“Very well. But I do so not because I have surrendered my claim, but because I respect our rules.”
“Good boy.”
“And I’m not your brother.”
“But you are one of us.”
“I am one of us…” Michael conceded. “But you will be no more successful than I.” He moved back, and Adam’s face filled Nicole’s helpless vision. She screamed silently as he leaned in to press his mouth to her neck. But the expected burning sensation never arrived. Instead, Adam straightened up, wearing a deep frown.
“Most intriguing,” he murmured. Once again,
Nicole’s chin was seized and her head was turned to face Adam. His dark eyes bored into hers, but she resisted the peculiar lure that lay behind them.
“We should report this,” Michael said.
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course. This is important. A human who can resist us? I’ve lived in this city for… quite some time, and I’ve never seen this happen before.”
Human? He’s not human?
“I’ve heard about it, but not from this side of the country.”
“Oh?”
“There are tales dating back hundreds of years, about humans living in the Boston area who could resist our kind.”
Boston? I’m from Boston! But what does ‘our kind’ mean?
“Really?”
“But they were wiped out, eradicated. None survived the turn of the century—or so we thought.”
“And here’s proof of that error.”
“But I also heard that the one who succeeds in breaking through the barrier gains immeasurable power.”
“Immeasurable?”
“They could become as powerful as the first Master.”
Michael’s eyebrows rose. “Then we would be free of all compulsion, all servitude to our makers.”
“Exactly. Is that not a prize worth winning?”
“Without doubt. But how does one ‘break through’ her defenses?”
“By charming our way into her life, by gaining her trust and having her lower those same defenses.”
You’ll never charm your way into my life, you creepy bastards!
“Intriguing. We must become her suitors and seduce her?”
“Yes, but without using any of our supernatural gifts, brother.”
Michael frowned. “I’m not your—”
“We face a challenge, brother. The first of us to seduce our way past her gifts wins the prize, and gains power.”
Michael stroked his chin. “But we would be pitted against each other.”
“Very true.”
“Would co-operation not serve us better?”
Adam frowned. “What do you suggest?”
“That whomever succeeds in their seduction persuades the lady to lie with the other before the night ends.”
