by Claudy Conn
She repeated the question in her mind—just what was happening to her? She was super-charged with desire. She had to find a way to stop—she had to, so she groaned.
The sound she made intensified his machinations, and instead of releasing her, he seemed to take her groan as an invitation to explore her further. Now was the time, her brain announced to her body. Say no—push away—take control of yourself. Moving too fast…shouldn’t move into this at all…not what you want…not what you need...and the word liar resonated in her ears.
She felt her thighs press hard against each other as her blood screamed for more touching—more pressing…more…
She felt herself yield to his touch. Her lust had whacked her brain into silence. Her heart tried to find a compromise, but her hormones simply closed any chance of that down, totally down, and then discarded her brain as useless. Her body had demanded she capitulate—and capitulate seemed so much better than not.
His mouth was on hers, his lips gently pressed hers to open, and his tongue boldly introduced itself to hers, taunting it to respond in like—she did.
His kiss evolved into another, and she felt the desperation of need. His touch ignited desire all through her system. His kisses called for submission, union, and fulfillment.
It was as though his kiss had created a vacuum in her skull and welcomed sensation throughout her muscles, all jerking and pulsating spastically and all for him.
His hands were deft as they toured all over her, and she shuddered uncontrollably. What she knew was that she wanted him—wanted him to take off her clothes…
She wanted him to take off his clothes—damn, she wanted, wanted, wanted. She needed to explore him, touch him, and her hand moved along his hard body down to his thigh…
He had started by taking his time—he had created a second and a third kiss from the electricity of the first. Then he nibbled at her ear and then down the length of her neck. His hand had moved to her breast and fondled it through the sweater, and Shawna felt her knees turn into mush.
Mush, silly putty, much like her discarded brain…she blinked the notion away. She didn’t want to think. It occurred to her that it was a good thing that he was holding her tightly, because she was damn sure her legs were about to give out.
Her sweater was off. She didn’t know how or when it happened, but it was on the floor and his hands had released her bra. His face bent to hers, his kisses covered her nose, her lips, and her neck, and then he began licking her nipples. She made mewling sounds and whimpered for more…
All at once and with expertise he maneuvered her swiftly into position and scooped her up cradle-like into his massive arms. He was walking towards the library doors…
…when suddenly, as though a frigid wind blew in, he stopped short and set her on her feet. She almost caved in on herself. What the hell?
Shawna then realized what had stopped him. She could hear someone—more than someone, two some ones—at the front door. Nooo—not at it, but coming through—into the house!
Shawna looked round for her clothes. She put her bra on, snapped it in place, pulled on her sweater, and shaped it neatly round her body. She looked towards him and saw that he was rigid with irritation and annoyance.
“Chad?” a hearty male voice called out.
“Darling?” a female voice chimed in, and to Shawna it sounded sweetly musical—and young.
Shawna’s eyebrows stiffened into arches of surprise, “Darling?” She gave Chad a quizzical look and wondered to herself, Who is this—some girlfriend of his—with the gate code and a house key?
Chad’s face took on an extremely odd expression as he looked at her and supplied, “My father and grandmother.”
“Your father and grandmother? You have a father and grandmother?” She was shocked into stupidity. “And they are here—now?” She had lowered her voice into a hiss of a whisper, although she wasn’t sure why.
He turned to her and said, “Stay! Don’t move.” He strode hard, hoping to get out of the library before his family’s onslaught when both he and Shawna heard the woman’s ageless, sweet voice. “Ah, John—he is in the library, and apparently Chad has…er…company.”
Shawna’s reaction was two-fold. Caught, came first, and then because her mind was ever suspicious—How could she know that Chad had company?
Chad rolled his eyes. It was obvious to Shawna that he wasn’t pleased to have his father and grandmother descend upon him. Were they not close?
Perhaps it was just their timing? Shawna was damn well sure she was thankful they hadn’t arrived while Chad was carrying her upstairs. How embarrassing would that have been?
Also, now perhaps she could get some control over herself? She had been saved to resist him for another day (if she could—if she wanted to). Did she want to resist him?
However, no time for retrospection as a lovely and mature woman of some undetermined years, but certainly grandmotherly status, was already heading towards her, hand extended. “Ah, a friend of Chad’s. How very nice—we don’t often get to meet Chad’s friends. I am his grandmother, Lady MacFare, but do please call me Elizabeth.” She turned to her son, an attractive man who looked about fifty-five, and to whom Chad bore a strong resemblance. “This is my son, the Duke of MacFare—you may call him John.” She then turned to her grandson, one eyebrow up, and Shawna watched with some amusement as a sign of resignation came over Chad’s handsome face.
Shawna was momentarily overwhelmed. Chad’s grandmother was gracious and, she could sense, sweet-natured. Yet, something felt off. She was struck with a sudden dizziness and blurry vision.
She had looked at Lady MacFare and then at her son, John, while the introductions had been made, but the image of an older man faded and turned into a younger one right before her eyes. The same thing happened when she glanced back at Chad’s grandmother. The image of a mature woman blurred and shifted, and a younger version of the woman came into focus. What the hell? What was wrong? Was it because of the loss of blood she had suffered? That must be it—loss of blood…confusion…sudden arrival…stress! That had to be it.
Suddenly Chad was at her side, holding her steady, “What is it, lass?”
“I—I don’t know, I felt a bit dizzy…” Shawna blinked and looked at his grandmother to find a beautiful woman with tawny gold locks cropped in short, attractive waves. She was still wearing the St. Laurent black and white silk pants suit, but gone was the older woman with soft white-tinged gold hair…
What was happening, she wondered silently. She frowned as she tried to bring her world back into focus. Shawna held her head as Chad’s strong arm held her in place, and she smiled timidly up at him to whisper, “I am so sorry…”
And then she glanced at the duke.
Oh gosh…she almost exclaimed out loud. The duke was no longer the handsome and distinguished man of some odd fifty years. No—oh no, he was still handsome, in fact, almost a replica of his son—or was it that Chad was a replica of him? No matter. What mattered was that he didn’t look fifty any longer—he looked to be in his late twenties, like Chad. She was having some kind of episode. She must be weak from the loss of blood…she must be ill…what other explanation could there be?
Unaware of Shawna’s dilemma, aware however that she was obviously having a dizzy spell, Chad took over the conversation, wishing he could direct it away from her until she could recoup. However, introductions had to be made. “Shawna is our neighbor, Grams—Miss Shawna MacBay,” he offered, obviously miserable.
“Ah—of course.” Lady MacFare turned and cast her son a quick look, but when she spoke, her voice was soft and soothing. “I had heard, Shawna, that you had taken the MacDunn cottage. How very pleased I am that we happened to stop by now and meet you during your visit.”
“She isn’t visiting. There was a problem at the cottage. I offered her…a safe haven here for the night, or as long as it takes to er…repair the problem.”
“And has it been a…safe haven for you here, Shawn
a child?” Her ladyship’s voice was gentle, probing, interested.
Shawna frowned and blinked, but the younger version of Elizabeth MacFare took over again and then faded out. Grandmother…young woman…grandmother, right before her eyes. She blinked, and the grandmother was back. She had not eaten in a long while—was that it? She steadied herself and tried getting past her sense of spatial distortion with politeness. “Chad is an excellent host, and yes. I was a bit nervous about staying in the cottage alone tonight.” What else could she say?
Chad’s grandmother took her hand and pulled her out of Chad’s steadying grip. “You look a bit pale, dear… Come with me to the kitchen. The men can follow us…”
“Yes, that would be good,” Shawna said, putting a hand to her forehead. “I did for a moment feel…a bit off…”
“Yes,” Chad’s grandmother said, patting her hand. “No doubt a tiring day—you’ll do.”
Chad called out to his grandmother, using his old Gaelic nickname for her. “Brea’…”
“She will be fine with me, darling. You stay and visit with your father and then join us in the kitchen, and we’ll have a cozy meal together.”
* * *
Mrs. Wunkly had a great deal of experience over her years of service with the MacFare family. They came and went at will, and she always had meals cooked and frozen and ready for heating.
She had been with them for over twenty years, loved her job and loved them. She was loyal and probably noticed more than she should, but she kept it to herself. At any rate, the assembled company found just what they needed in the overstocked freezer and went on together during dinner very well.
Shawna’s problem with the airwaves subsided, and the dizziness she had been experiencing faded. Gone was the strange feeling she had while watching Lady MacFare’s younger version of herself fade in and out. Shawna excused it away in her mind—after all she had been badly sliced and lost a great deal of blood.
She shook it all off and took on the job of cutting up and tossing the salad. Chad and his father arrived looking like two storms that had collided, but the duke took up a bottle of wine and poured for all of them, all the while engaging her in idle chatter.
A lively banter ensued, and the conversation was punctuated with riotous laughter as Chad’s grandmother decided it was time to describe one or two of his youthful exploits.
Shawna could not remember (in the last six months) ever enjoying herself more. Holding her hand to her stomach as Chad and his father exchanged quips, she turned to find her ladyship smiling warmly at her.
Huh, she thought, as a soft feeling of affection for Chad’s people enveloped her. This was a side to Chad of MacFare that she had never known existed. How had she not seen this in him—known the sense of family that he had? Her senses were usually on the mark—but apparently, not this time? This both irritated and confounded her.
She couldn’t get all caught up in friendships. That was the way to hurt. If Pentim discovered she had friends, not only could he get to her, he could do them harm in the interim.
She would have to leave in the morning as fast as she could and cut all ties.
The thought made a swirl of pin pricks in her heart, but she silently sniffed them away as she made her decision, gathered her strength of purpose, stood, and smiled softly. “Well, this has been wonderful…but, it has been a long day, and I think I will turn in.”
Chad stood up at once. “I’ll take you to your room, lass.”
She was surprised that he didn’t try to persuade her to stay. In fact, he seemed fidgety as his grandmother took her hand and bade her good evening.
Shawna had never envisioned him quite like this. In fact, this was an entirely new facet to Chadwick MacFare’s complicated personality.
Elizabeth called out to Shawna as she and Chad reached the door. “Shawna dear, I can’t tell you what a great pleasure it has been meeting you.”
Shawna wanted to run back and hug the woman. In many ways, Elizabeth MacFare reminded her of her own dear grandmother. She settled for giving the woman her grateful smile. “Thanks so much—it has been for me as well.”
Chad’s father nodded, winked, and added, “Aye, a bonny fine lass ye are, Shawna.” He grinned at his son. “And so I feel I must warn you about my boy…”
Shawna laughed. “I’m up on that, sir.”
Chad scowled, and she followed him out of the kitchen. In the central hall, she reached for her overnight bag, but Chad grabbed it before she could, gave her a challenging look, and waved her forward towards the grand staircase.
A short laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head and went a few steps before him. She waited for him to catch up and took the stairs beside him.
When they reached her oak and heavily molded bedroom door, he stopped, opened it wide, and waved her in before him.
She went inside, exclaiming at the beautifully decorated suite of rooms, and he dropped her duffel bag on the Oriental rug.
“Good night then,” he said as he turned away and started out.
Shawna was baffled, as she half expected him to make a move to kiss her again. She had been planning her style of rebuff, and now it didn’t seem necessary. She definitely felt a contrary sense of pique.
She had already decided that what happened earlier between them was best forgotten; however, now that it was obvious that he intended to do just that—forget about their heated encounter—she was distressed, inwardly embarrassed, irritated, and damn well fricking annoyed!
As he started to close the door he turned his head and gave her a wicked grin. “Be comfortable, and sleep well, Shawna lass.”
“Ah, how could I do otherwise?” Shawna returned, feeling like her cheeks were on fire. “You do the same.”
“Oh—I rather doubt I will,” he said darkly as he closed the door between them.
* * *
Chad hurried down the stairs, determined to handle this new development. He had not been expecting his family and was taken aback by their sudden arrival. He knew that they did not approve of his plan to draw Pentim out and destroy him, and he wanted no interference from them.
He reached the kitchen and stopped short as the faces of the two people he adored stared up at him with definite disapproval written into their expressions. He sighed and raised his hands. “What?”
His grandmother answered him by wagging a finger at him. His father, arms folded across his chest, one brow up, said, “Doona ask us ‘what’—what indeed!” The Duke shook his head. “Aye, then, son, having met the bonny lass, I must tell ye that this just won’t do—that’s what,” returned his father dispensing with the illusion of age.
Looking at his father often made him feel as though he were looking at a slightly older twin—until he looked further at the demeanor, which he always saw as totally parental.
Chad wasn’t, at that moment, thinking of his father’s parental authority. He had been his own man for a very long time, and was not used to taking orders. It looked as though both his father and grandmother were about to do just that: issue an order.
His own arms folded into one another across his chest as well, and he took an implacable stand. He would not be told how to conduct his life. However, he did not like to displease his loved ones, and so he had decided to allow them to have their say.
He couldn’t help but notice the glint of anger in his father’s eyes, and he frowned to himself. He had no wish to distress his family and immediately, almost guiltily, dropped his arms to his sides and took another step into the kitchen. He would do what he thought he needed to do. They would not dissuade him in this, but he would be respectful. “You both have known what my intentions were from the start. I went to locate and bring Shawna into the protection of my circle. I mean to train her to use the skills she already possesses and make her aware of the ones she doesn’t know she has. I will teach her a few specific black magic skills…and tattoo her against the inherent danger of those spells.”
He took a tour of
the kitchen while they watched him. He turned and his face was still drawn in a scowl. “You knew that was my goal, so why now this attitude?”
“This isn’t new. We never approved of your plan,” his father snapped.
“You never tried to stop me,” Chad shot back.
“We couldn’t, at that point, stop you, Chad.” His grandmother shook her head. “You weren’t listening.”
“And what…now you think I am?”
“Now we think this innocent child that you wish to put out there…might be hurt—gravely hurt—and we know you don’t want that.”
“I don’t intend to allow that to happen, but, Brea, I don’t even have a choice any longer. If Shawna is to stay alive…if I am to keep her safe…I have to kill Pentim. It is no longer about my need for revenge.”
His grandmother considered this for a very long moment before she turned to her son, the duke, who threw up his hands as she quietly advised, “He has a point.”
“Then what we need to do is sit and devise a better plan.” The duke’s voice was grim.
“The plan I put together will work,” Chad returned obstinately.
“However, you will listen to your father and to me…because there is something you need to know. There is more than just Pentim out there. We have something else that has entered the mix, and we don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves at this time.”
“What?” he asked, but he already knew—there was only one real threat that concerned them and their way of life.
“Dracula has been making serious inquiries. He does do that from time to time, but if you make this battle with Pentim too public, he will find us, and that is something none of us need.”
~ Thirteen ~
THE SHOWER HAD been just what she needed. It woke her up nicely. She was dressed and ready to face the early morning. She took a quick gander at herself in the wall mirror, smoothed a hand over her faded Gap jeans, wondering if she should wear her hiking boots instead of her sneakers. After deciding to stick with sneakers, she pulled on her sleek navy leather jacket over the pretty blue sweater she was wearing.
