Never Been Bit Page 23

  When Sorcha left, she’d taken everything that was bright in his life with her. His passion. His happiness. His future.

  She’d walked right out the door and taken it all with her.

  Now he had to get it back. He just had to. The utter look of devastation on her face would have broken his heart, if he still had one. In his case, it just worried him. It worried him to no end that he’d messed up his only chance with her. He worried that he’d somehow hurt her. And that was just intolerable. He’d kill anyone who dared to wipe the smile from his witch’s face. Here he’d gone and done it himself.

  A scratch sounded at his door. “Go away,” he groused at the noise.

  “Mr. MacQuarrie,” Gibson called out hesitantly. “I’m sorry ta bother ye, but ye have a visitor.”

  Alec opened the door with such force that the old man tumbled into the room. “Haven’t you let enough people into this house for one day?” he snapped.

  The butler adjusted his jacket and squared his shoulders.

  “I admitted the others a few days ago,” he amended. “Mr. Browning assured me that he and his sisters were great friends of yers from London. And that ye’d be highly irritated if I didn’t see ta yer wishes and allow them ta stay until yer return.”

  Alec shot Gibson a look of incredulity. “You know good and well that those women are not his sisters,” he scolded.

  “You let a couple of whores into my house.”

  “I dinna ken that at the time, sir. But I do ken it now. That’s why they have been removed ta the Thorne and Rose for the duration of their stay. I assured them ye’d be most happy ta pay for their lodgings.” The butler looked supremely satisfied with himself.

  “I thought it would be more difficult than that,” Alec muttered, scratching at the day’s growth of beard stubble that itched his cheek. Then he narrowed his eyes at his butler. “I’d have sacked you if you hadn’t figured out how to do that.”

  “I can be crafty when necessary, sir,” Gibson said, still smiling a satisfied grin. “But ye have another guest in the parlor, sir. Lord Benjamin has come ta visit.”

  “You can tell Lord Benjamin to go straight to the devil,” Alec said. That overgrown dog was the last person he wanted to see. Now or ever.

  Alec sniffed at the air. He could already smell the Lycan’s stench inside his home. Bloody perfect. All he needed to make the evening a complete disaster was a meeting with Ben Westfield.

  A voice roared from belowstairs. “If Gibson tells me to go straight to the devil, I’ll put him in a cupboard until the morning, and then I’ll come and find you myself!”

  Gibson’s jaw dropped open. There had never been any love lost between his butler and Ben Westfield.

  “He would do no such thing,” Alec assured the old man, though he wasn’t so certain himself.

  “Yes, I would!” Ben called from belowstairs again. “Try me and see, MacQuarrie.”

  “How did he hear that, sir?” Gibson asked, lowering his voice in surprise.

  Damn Ben’s Lycan hearing. He could hear a pin drop in the house next door. Of course, he could hear Alec’s and Gibson’s mutterings.

  “Sound carries in this house,” Alec replied.

  “No’ that well,” the butler contradicted.

  “It won’t be the only thing being carried if you don’t get your arse down those stairs and come talk to me!” Ben bellowed, his voice growing louder and louder. The damn neighbors would hear him at this rate.

  Alec glanced at his astounded butler. “Lord Benjamin was dropped on his head as a bairn. It obviously affected his hearing. And his common sense.”

  “My common sense is fine!” the irate Lycan belowstairs bellowed again. “It’s my house that’s in a state of upheaval. An enchanting lady who normally has a green thumb is destroying every plant and flower I possess. And I am fairly certain she would be most pleased with me if I buried your lying arse somewhere on Arthur’s Seat!”

  Sorcha was at Westfield’s? Alec shot out the door and down the stairs so fast that the old butler could only stand and stare. Alec’s oldest and dearest friend leaned casually in the doorway of the parlor and glared at him with a look of bemusement. “Finally got your attention, did I?”

  “Sorcha’s at your home?” Alec managed to choke out.

  “So nice to see you too,” Ben drawled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I wish I could say the same.”

  Ben started down the corridor toward Alec’s study.

  “Where are you going?” he called to his friend’s retreating back. Then Alec followed. Damn, who was the dog here? Him or Westfield?

  “I assume you still have whisky, even though you can no longer imbibe,” Ben mumbled as he shuffled through Alec’s sideboard. He grinned broadly as he found the decanter he wanted and poured himself a tumbler full of the amber liquid. Then he dropped into a wide chair across from Alec’s desk.

  “Do make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Alec groused as he dropped into his own chair behind the desk.

  “I believe I will, since my own is in a state of upheaval. And it’s all your fault.” Ben took a slow swallow from his glass. Then he leaned forward and speared Alec with a glance. “I quite like sleeping with my wife.”

  “I don’t need to know about your bedroom proclivities, Westfield,” Alec said as he tried to look affronted by the mere suggestion.

  “I like sleeping with my wife for a lot of reasons, though the likelihood of that happening this evening diminishes each moment Ellie tries to soothe Sorcha, and all because you had the stupidity to bring your mistress into the sight of your intended. Now tell me, what kind of a fool does that?”

  “You’re a fine one to talk about being foolish.” If they were to tally up each of their mistakes, Ben’s list would stretch from here to Aberdeen.

  Ben shrugged. “We can discuss my sins if you’d like, though I hardly see the point as doing so won’t help you with Sorcha.”

  “I don’t need your help with Sorcha.” He didn’t need anything from his old friend, other than to have the man turn tail and depart his home.

  “Oh, I beg to differ. You need all the help you can get.”

  “My situation is none of your concern.” Alec tried to sound arrogant and unconcerned himself, but he’d failed miserably, he was afraid.

  “But it is,” Ben countered. “Ellie and Sorcha are connected, and therefore my wife’s state of mind is very much my concern.”

  That damn harmony thing again. Alec nearly groaned.

  “Now who installs their mistress in their home?” Ben pressed. “Does this woman mean something to you?”

  For the love of God! “She’s not my mistress. She’s a whore. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Ben drew in a deep breath and leaned back in the chair.

  “Don’t ever let Ellie catch you saying that.”

  Whatever the devil that meant. “Just leave, Ben.”

  His onetime friend sighed. “I know you detest my kind, Alec.” He held up a hand when Alec would have interrupted.

  “But I can’t change what I am any more than you can.”

  “You could have told me,” Alec muttered.

  “No, I couldn’t. There are covenants that prevent that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And Simon would have had my head if I’d even tried.” He looked so directly at Alec that he wanted to look away, but he refused to do so. “I did want to tell you more than once throughout the years. It just wasn’t possible.”

  “But now I know.” Alec wasn’t certain whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Just as I know what you are,” Ben retorted.

  “At least you like what you are,” Alec said quietly.

  But Ben heard him anyway. “Not always. There was a time when I detested what I was. It made me feel out of control. I even hurt Ellie because of it. Thank God, she forgave me. I couldn’t live without her.”

  Alec made a gagging sound that brought a smile to the Lycan�
�s face.

  “You are not immune to love, my friend,” Ben informed him.

  “I have no aspirations of love,” Alec scoffed. But something within him ached, like a piece of him was being torn in two. He rubbed at his chest absently.

  “Something wrong?” Ben asked, his face etched with concern.

  “No.” Alec waved the Lycan’s questions aside. “Where is Sorcha now?”

  “She was at the Manor when I left, begging Ellie to heal her broken heart.” Ben took another sip of his whisky. What Alec wouldn’t give to taste that again, to feel numb from it.

  “She has cried until there are no tears left. I can’t tell you how painful it is to hear her profess how much she loves you, even being willing to settle for someone who can’t love her back. But she’s not willing to settle for someone who can’t be faithful to her. She’s a smart lass, that one.”

  Alec hurt again. He hadn’t hurt since he’d been turned.

  What the devil? “Will Elspeth help her?” All things considered, Sorcha would be better off if she didn’t love him. Of course, he’d be utterly destroyed if she stopped, but it would be in her best interest.

  “She doesn’t have that kind of power.” Ben took a deep breath. “But you do.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” The pain of separation between him and his old friend began to ease somewhat, and Alec felt calmer than he had in quite some time. The only person who made him feel better than this was Sorcha. His Sorcha.

  “You know, there’s an old saying that we Lycans live by.”

  “And I assume you’ll burden me with it?” Alec quipped.

  “It speaks of the fact that a Lycan cannot love another until he learns to love himself. I know you hate what you are now.” When Alec would have interrupted, Ben held up a hand. “I know you do. I can see it all over your face. But you can’t change it. You can either continue with this futile selfloathing, or you let that lass love you and give her the best life she could have ever dreamed of.”

  “She deserves better than a life with me. But I’m just selfish enough to keep her from having it.” He hated that about himself. But the thought of sleeping in a cold and empty bed for the rest of his life made him feel hollow inside.

  “As things stood when I left home, she wouldn’t have you if the Regent ordered her to do so right now. So, I’d suggest you dust off your courting clothes and get to work on persuading the lass, not to mention her father, that you’re the right one for her.”

  “What if I’m not?”

  “Then you’ll have to work on that.” Ben shrugged.

  “Besides, there’s obviously something about you Sorcha fell in love with, MacQuarrie. You just have to remind her of what that was.”

  Remind her of the passion she felt in his arms? That wasn’t likely to happen, not if the scathing glare she’d cast him as she’d escaped his doorstep was any indication.

  “Men like me don’t court women,” Alec muttered, though the man he had once been would have done so.

  “They do if they want to win them, you dolt.” Ben launched himself to his feet and laid his empty tumbler on Alec’s desk.

  “You needn’t call me names,” Alec murmured.

  “The next time that lass comes to my house in tears, I’ll do worse than call you names.”

  “As though you could take me,” Alec taunted.

  “I’d have a damn good time trying,” Ben admitted. “Then I’d tell Wallace Ferguson that you bit his sister and sit back and see what happens.”

  “She told you that?” Alec couldn’t believe she’d divulged that information.

  “She had your scent all over her when she got to my house.” Ben shrugged. “The rest was easy to figure out.”

  “I keep forgetting about that blasted nose of yours,” Alec said.

  “And I keep forgetting you’re an idiot. Then you remind me all over again.” Ben shrugged. Then he sobered and stared directly at Alec. “Make it right, old friend.”

  Alec nodded absently. If only he knew how to go about doing that.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Alec strode up the steps of Ben Westfield’s newly constructed home. Caitrin had called it a monstrosity, and she was not far off. Just outside of Edinburgh proper, Westfield Manor was a sprawling neoclassical home with decorative arches and ornate columns, exuding the feel of an English country estate. In fact, the manor rivaled that of Ben’s oldest brother’s home in Hampshire, both in size and grandness. How very Westfield it was.

  Before Alec reached the final step, a man who was too young to be a proper butler opened the door, a cheerful smile upon his youthful face. “Good evenin’, sir.”

  “Good evening. I—” Alec began.

  “Ye must be Mr. MacQuarrie.” The fellow gestured Alec over the threshold. “His lordship said I should be expectin’ ye.”

  “Did he, indeed?” Alec hadn’t decided on this fool’s errand until at least an hour after his old friend had departed. He handed his beaver hat to the butler when the man held out his hand for it.

  “Aye. I assume ye are here ta see Miss Ferguson.”

  He was there to see Miss Ferguson. He just wished he had some idea what to say to the lass. The ride from MacQuarrie House to Ben’s country manor hadn’t yielded any answers to that problem. “Is she still here?”

  “Miss Ferguson?” The man smiled again, and Alec had the sudden urge to send the young butler crashing through the closest door. Clearly the man was besotted with Sorcha, just by the way he said her name. Damn Ben for hiring a mere lad for this position. A butler should be stoic, old, and not so bloody cheerful. “I believe she is in the nursery, sir.” Then the man leaned in conspiratorially. “Lord Benjamin said I shouldna announce ye, or ye’d scare the lass off. Follow me.”

  Scare the lass off? Hardly. Sorcha wasn’t afraid of him.

  She could blister his ears better than anyone else. Still, she might refuse to see him, which was another thing all together. And if she wouldn’t see him, what then? He still had no idea what he’d say when he did see her; he just needed to lay his eyes on her again.

  Alec nodded to the exuberant butler. “Lead on.” Then he followed the young man up a flight of stairs. “Have you worked for the Westfields long?”

  The butler glanced back over his shoulder at Alec. “Ever since I arrived from Glasgow. Her ladyship said she liked my outlook on life.”

  That explained the man’s employment. Tender-hearted Elspeth had spent most of her life in a tiny cottage. She wouldn’t know the first thing about hiring proper servants.

  The enormous house and the comical staff would be wildly amusing any other day. But Alec could only think about seeing Sorcha again.

  After a second staircase and what seemed like a labyrinth of corridors, Alec found himself just outside a spacious nursery. Soft, melodic humming filtered into the hallway, and Alec silently nodded for the butler to leave him.

  Once alone, he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and watched Sorcha fuss over a little red-haired bairn.

  God, she was beautiful. So ethereal, so sweet, so wholly deserving of more than he could give her. He should turn on his heel and quietly leave her to live her life with some lad who could share everything with her—heart, body, and soul.

  He really, truly should.

  The bairn spotted him across the room and reached her pudgy hand in his direction. Sorcha followed the child’s action and gasped when her eyes landed on Alec. He couldn’t leave now. Not now that she’d spotted him. He’d look like a damn fool. “Sorcha,” he mumbled, for lack of anything better to say.

  “What are ye doin’ here?” How was it possible for brown eyes to turn cold? And so quickly? Alec nearly shivered.

  He took a fortifying breath and stepped into the nursery.

  “I, um, heard that all plant life at Westfield Manor was in danger and in need of rescue. So I thought I’d see if there was something I could do.”

  Sorcha returned her gaze to the bairn
in her arms. “Yer papa is a meddlesome gossip, Rose. Shall we bind him up in ivy and then toss him inta Dunsapie Loch for good measure?”

  Little Rose Westfield giggled, though it wasn’t possible she understood a word Sorcha said.

  “Oh, I think so,” Sorcha cooed to the child.

  “Turning the little one against her father?” Alec asked as he took a few steps closer to her. “Ben will be devastated.”

  “Then I suppose Ben should mind his own affairs. I made it very clear I dinna wish ta see ye.”

  “Sorch,” Alec lowered his voice. “Allow me to explain. I deserve that much consideration, don’t I?”

  Finally her eyes rose to meet his once again. “I canna imagine what ye need ta explain, Alec. I might be young, but I grasped the manner of your relationship with Miss Sewell.”

  “I don’t think you did.”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Doona patronize me, Mr. MacQuarrie. I doona appreciate it.”

  What he wouldn’t do to grasp her to him and kiss the hurt from her lovely face. “What will you do, Sorch?” He smiled hoping to see her do the same in return. “Bind me up in ivy and drop me into Dunsapie Loch right alongside Benjamin?”

  “Nay.” She cocked her head to one side as though she was thinking. “There’s a crumblin’ castle near Strathcarron in the Highlands. It’s the perfect place ta keep a vampyre. I just need ta get the keys from Aiden Lindsay.”

  The castle where the previous generation of Còig witches had left Lord Kettering to rot for two decades. The castle where Alec had lost his human life. “I’ve visited there before and would rather not see the place again, if you don’t mind. How about Birks End instead?”

  She stared at him quizzically. “Birks End?”

  “My home in East Galloway.” He closed the gap between them and ran his finger along her jaw. “We can escape to Birks End and you can bind me up in all the ivy you want, just as long as you’re there with me.”

  Her heart pounded so loudly that he could hear it in his ears. Blood coursed through her veins, and the memory of tasting her essence rushed into his mind.