Without waiting for a response, she headed toward the house. She concentrated so hard on not tumbling insensate into the grass that at first she failed to notice she’d walked slightly off-target and was rapidly approaching the side of the manor, rather than the front door. Just as she turned to correct her mistake, the sound of rapid panting caught her attention. She lurched forward. With one hand splayed against the bricks for balance, Ellie angled her head around the corner.
A large glasshouse protruded from the rear of the manor. And there, frolicking in the conservatory’s long shadow, was Cain’s puppy.
Chapter 8
Cain wandered restlessly amongst the dense greenery in the darkest nook of the conservatory, hoping to avoid both servants and revelers whilst his puppy cavorted out-of-doors.
His fractured shoulder was healing, although not as quickly as he would have liked. If he had been thinking about his injury, he would’ve spirited away one of the party’s insipid coquettes for a drop or two during the card-playing yestere’en. Instead, he had been thinking about bonny Miss Ramsay. That was, when he was capable of rational thought.
After centuries of fruitless searching and prolonged homesickness, he had crossed paths with renegade vampire Aggie Munro. At long last, he could see an end to decade upon decade of solitary hunting, peppered by the occasional wild pup that invariably grew old and died, leaving Cain to walk his path alone.
No more. If he could not talk the Deserter into accompanying him peaceably, he would return her forcibly. He had not come this close to his quarry to fail now.
Then there was the question of returning Miss Ramsay—Ellie—to her real family. Whomever they might be. Depending on how much detail Aggie had Compelled her human companion to forget, Ellie might never recall her true life... or her true name. “Elspeth Ramsay” was much too Scottish for a modern English rose.
Aggie might have stolen her as a child. Might have used enough Compulsion on the parents so that they forgot they were parents, violating virtually every sacred tenet of the clan’s rigid Code at once.
Unforgivable, as far as Cain was concerned, but the clan Elders valued his brawn, not his opinions. He was simply required to deliver Aggie to their mercy.
Victory was finally at hand... if unexpectedly bittersweet. Cain had no desire to turn Ellie’s world upside down and then abandon her in the wilds of England to fend for herself, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t drag a human girl into the heart of a vampire clan.
He would never forgive himself if Ellie were Compelled to spend the rest of her life serving the Elders.
So why did he feel like he was losing something important?
Cain leaned his good shoulder against the conservatory wall. He bloody well knew why he regretted leaving Ellie. Because he liked her, dammit.
She was bonny, clever, delightfully skeptical... He’d actually had to work to charm her and was not at all confident as to the extent of his success. She, for her part, had managed to charm him quite effortlessly, with her arch wit and unpredictability.
Yet her very mortality ensured he could never have her. His clan only accepted fellow vampires as mates, and he would not turn her.
Conversion had been banned for centuries, for good reason: Only one in a hundred survived the process. Even were it legal, it would still not be worth the risk.
Besides, what he liked best about Ellie was her humanness. He’d damn near sprained his cheek muscles keeping his smiles at bay so as not to flash his fangs by accident. Being in her company was simply good fun.
Were she to accept him for who and what he was, he still could not have her.
Regardless of his clan’s laws against mating with a human, Cain wouldn’t be able to bear falling in love with someone who would grow old when he would not, who would die when he would not, who would leave this world—and him—forever.
The slight squeak of a hinge set his muscles on edge. If the sound heralded the arrival of servants or a groundskeeper, his gift of thought Compulsion would keep unwanted questions at bay. But if the entire party had decided to take a turn amongst the exotic flowers, his blood-weakened state might not afford him the energy needed to Compel a multitude of people at once. He would be forced to... mingle.
With a sigh, he straightened to his full height and prepared for the worst. The thick rows of tangled flora offered plenty of shadowy nooks, but if Cain had never sought to hide from immortal warriors, he certainly would not cower from a gaggle of ladies and lordlings. Let them do their worst.
“Cain?” called a warm, familiar voice. “Are you here?”
From the first sultry syllable, Cain’s entire body stood at attention.
Ellie. Bloody hell. He might have faced less danger with the picnic-goers after all.
“Here,” he managed, inanely pleased his voice hadn’t cracked like that of some green youth.
“Where?” she called, her footsteps falling faster.
Cain didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, because even as his addled brain sought to form a reply, she stepped into view. If he’d still had breath, she would have stolen it away. He swallowed hard.
Although she stood at the opposite end of a long row of hothouse flowers, just enough dappled sunlight filtered through the tropical blooms to give her silhouette an angelic glow. Not that he needed the reminder. Stray curls danced alongside elegant cheekbones. A simple gown highlighted a perfectly curved figure that required no ruffles or flounces to distract the eye. The faint, but irresistibly sweet scent of her blood blended with the perfume of the flowers, pricking both his nostrils and his nethers.
“You look... dashing.” Blood infused her cheeks at the apparently unintentional compliment, but she boldly took another step in his direction.
