As before, his order went unheeded.
He gradually became aware of the conversation around him and was alarmed to discover a picnic had been planned for luncheon the next day. He would need a full feeding to be able to withstand hours under the sun. Since that didn’t seem likely, he would be forced to remain indoors.
The moment the meal drew to a close, the gentlemen rejected the habit of retiring for port in favor of immediately joining the ladies for card playing. Cain would have preferred to stalk his prey. But this was the last time the company would be together this evening. As he would necessarily be indoors much of the morrow, he must take advantage of the game play in order to steal a moment of Miss Ramsay’s time.
His opportunity came before the play had begun. Miss Breckenridge had been standing near Miss Ramsay until being borne away to determine which guests would partner at which tables. Cain positioned himself just behind Miss Ramsay. Close enough to whisper into her ear. Or to feather kisses beneath the curls at her neck.
“Miss Ramsay,” he murmured. She started, but did not increase the distance between them as she turned to face him.
“Mr. Macane,” she responded composedly, although her pulse pounded louder in Cain’s ears. He would have liked to attribute the phenomenon to mutual desire, but her expression gave nothing away. She nodded in the direction of his broken collarbone. “I trust you don’t suffer unduly?”
He nearly gaped at her uncanny comprehension, then realized she was not referring to his swan dive, but rather to their previous encounter. “Nary a mark remains,” he assured her with a playful smile, “and you are welcome to bite me whenever you please.”
The sweet scent of blood teased his nostrils as a touch of pink feathered across Miss Ramsay’s cheeks as she lowered her eyes and glanced away. She was so easy to embarrass, so lovely, so... human.
Never before had the chasm between what he was and what she was seemed so insurmountable. He was a vampire. She was human. It would never do. As much as she intrigued him, he longed to experience the biting ritual shared by a vampire couple in love. There was no greater sensation in this world. Whilst Miss Ramsay would undoubtedly make a bonny bedmate indeed, vampiric mating rituals were not something they would be able to share. Particularly since her humanity was one of the qualities he liked best about her.
Miss Ramsay’s mortality brought the specter of Aggie Munro back to mind. He needed to find out what, if anything, Miss Ramsay knew... and then decide what to do.
He lowered his voice. “Have you been to Scotland?”
“I told you last time I had not.” She raised a brow at him in a mock-disgruntled expression. “Were you not attending?”
“I was preoccupied with corralling my baser instincts at the time.” He gave an exaggerated leer and startled an involuntary giggle from her. He smiled back to distract her from the import of his next question. “How about your mother? Has she been to Scotland?”
“Mama?” Miss Ramsay repeated with choked laughter, as if she had not heard a more preposterous idea in her lifetime. “She won’t visit the milliner, much less go on holiday.”
Cain carefully monitored her heartbeat and breathing pattern, but could discern no deception. Whatever Aggie Munro was about, Miss Ramsay was not privy to the wherefores. But perhaps there was still something to be learned.
“Ah,” he said sorrowfully. “Then you’ll not know about Foulis.”
Her brow furrowed. “Who’s Foulis?”
“Not a who, a what. Foulis was one of the most enchanting castles in Scotland... until it burnt down yesteryear.”
Miss Ramsay’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Oh... is that why you’re spending time abroad? Foulis was your home?”
Cain shook his head. “Mine still stands. Foulis was home to clan Munro.”
The confusion creasing Miss Ramsay’s brow was genuine. “Then what does it have to do with me? Or my mother?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps nothing.”
And perhaps everything. When Cain dragged Aggie Munro back to Scotland to face the tribunal, where was Miss Ramsay meant to go?
Chapter 7
Well before dawn, Ellie awoke to hunger pangs so acute she had to clench her teeth so as not to cry out with pain. She must have been gritting them all through the night, because even her gums were aching terribly.
She couldn’t recall having consumed a single bite of last night’s meal. The inevitable row once Mama realized she’d been tricked into attending a house party had soured Ellie’s appetite completely. This morning there was no ignoring the biting pangs twisting her insides into painful knots. Ringing for service would only awaken Mama, however, and there was no sense beginning the day with another terrible row.
Ellie dressed as silently and quickly as she could, but caught herself gnawing on everything within grasp—the nub of a pencil, the handle to a comb, the knuckle of her own finger. If she didn’t find the Breckenridge kitchens soon, she’d be down on her knees chewing holes in the carpets.
The drowsy hall boy at the end of the corridor pointed the way to the kitchen before snuggling back into a large wingback chair. A stroke of luck. Ellie would prefer to pillage the pantry unaccompanied.
She had just finished off a leg of meat and was halfway through sucking the marrow from the bone when the distant creaking of a door snapped her back into the present.
Ellie jerked the tooth-marked bone from her mouth and stared at her red-tinged fingers in horror. Had she just eaten raw meat in a blind stupor? What the devil was wrong with her?
