Chapter Twenty-Seven
“My cousin has asked me to join her in Glasgow on an urgent matter,” Winifred said as she played with the buttons of the shirt Marcus had refused to remove, even as he’d thrust deep inside her.
It was a tad disappointing, but she did not have the heart to push him.
Given enough time, her persistence would erode the wall he’d erected between them.
“Glasgow,” Marcus repeated. “Are you certain this is not a trap?” He propped himself up on his elbow. “They are hunters, and you are the wife of a vampire. They might not hesitate to kill you.”
She was shaking her head before he finished.
“Not Felicity. Uncle Ethan might have nefarious intentions, but my cousin is innocent.” She fought back tears as she tried to find the words that would make him understand.
“It doesn’t matter, Marcus. Even if it is a trap, I must get Felicity away from our uncle.
He branded us. I fear what he might do before Felicity comes of age next month. ”
He tugged a strand of her hair. “You care for her deeply.”
She placed her hand over his. “You should come with me. We could cover the windows in the carriage.”
“It’s not that simple.”
She sighed. He was right, of course. It was unreasonable to expect him to progress so quickly from a dinner party to traveling to an entirely different city.
“I don’t want to leave you alone, but I have no choice.
Felicity insisted the matter was urgent, and I cannot ignore the opportunity to wrench her out of my uncle’s grasp. ”
He ran his fingers along her spine. “I could make you stay.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” He was stronger than her, but he slept through the day. “What will you do, lock me in my room? Have a servant follow me while you rest?”
He sighed. “Will you at least allow one of my brothers to accompany you?”
She kissed his cheek. “As long as they follow at a discreet distance. If my family have set a trap, I do not want to alert them before I have spoken to Felicity.”
“That will have to do.” He grasped her chin, tilted her head up, then kissed the tip of her nose. “But I shall miss you every moment you are gone.”
She looped her arms around his neck. “There remains an hour until sunrise.” Every second of which she intended to spend in his embrace, clothed or not. Preferably the latter.
He waggled his eyebrows. “I believe my lady requires a bath before her journey.” He kissed her once more before pulling the thick, braided rope in the corner of the room.
“Marcus!” She buried herself under the blankets. Inviting his valet into the room while she was unclothed was beyond scandalous.
There was a rap at the door. Marcus turned to her and pressed his index finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.
She giggled despite herself, then flipped the blanket over her head and kept as still as possible.
It was rather titillating, indulging in activities that would have made her mother drop into a faint.
She heard creaking, followed by murmuring, then a loud thud. She popped her head out of the blanket as Marcus returned, wearing a smile that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
“Smith will arrange for a copper tub and buckets of hot water to be brought up,” he said. Then he untied the curtains around the bed before crawling in to join her.
The next several minutes were spent trying to keep from making noise as she heard movement.
A task that was made much more difficult by Marcus rasping his tongue along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
She bit the inside of her cheek but could not help the soft sounds that escaped her lips as he slid his fingers in and out of her sheath and swirled his tongue around her clitoris.
The pleasure built until it burst, rippling through her in waves.
As she savored the last of the gentle pulses, Marcus gathered her in his arms.
“It is time for you to bathe, my lady.”
She snickered, then shrieked as he bounded across the room and dumped her into the tub.
The water was slightly too hot for her liking, but she welcomed the heat because it made parts of her that had been tense all day relax.
She slid down with a satisfied sigh, then looked at her husband with half-lidded eyes.
He rolled up his sleeves, bearing his forearms.
She lifted one damp leg. “Are you not joining me?”
He fell to his knees and slid his hands into the water. “It is my duty to bathe you, my lady.”
“As you wish,” she said. If he wanted to play being a servant, she would not stop him.
She tilted her head so the back of her neck rested against the rim as he produced a bar of soap and stroked it down one leg and then the next.
The firm movements of his hands chased away what remained of her anxiety from the evening.
Then he tucked the bar between her legs and made her squeal.
“Marcus!”
The cheek of the man. She tangled her fingers in his cravat. But as she tugged him closer, he flinched.
She shifted onto her knees. “What is it?”
He grabbed a towel and draped it over his neck. “Nothing of importance.”
She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as she remembered how he’d refused to remove his shirt. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Winifred—”
She grasped both ends of the towel to prevent him from rising. “You will show me.”
He didn’t verbally agree, but the way the lines on his face deepened told her she’d broken the last of his defenses. She released her grip and gestured for him to bring him a robe. When she was warm and dry, she sat on his bed and crossed her arms. “Well?”
He touched his top button. “Before you see this, I want you to understand that there is nothing you could have done. This… was inevitable.”
She scowled. That was precisely the disclaimer she would have expected from someone who thought the exact opposite. “Stop stalling and show me.”
He did, and it was like someone had punched her in the gut.
“Oh, Marcus…” She touched the red-brown edge of a bruise on his chest. “What happened?”
He clenched his hands at his sides in a way that suggested he was avoiding reaching for something with which to cover himself. It made her heart ache that he felt he had to hide from her.
“I believe it is… an illness,” he said, speaking as if every word were being pulled from him by force. “One unique to my species. The attacks were the first stage, and this is the second.”
The attacks she’d tried to help him manage. In forcing him to endure practice sessions, she’d interrupted his research. It was her fault his condition had worsened. She knew he hadn’t discovered a cure, but perhaps… “Is there anything that improves the symptoms?”
He didn’t respond, but his lips thinned. He was keeping things from her again.
“Marcus,” she said sharply. “Tell me.”
He exhaled harshly. “Every vampire has a mate, one soul in the entire world with whom they are destined to bond. It is the lack of this mating bond that causes the disease mate atrophy. I did not believe it at first, but…” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Earlier this year, Cordon lapsed into a fever and nearly died. His symptoms only abated after he mated with his wife. That was what changed my mind.”
It was an incredible story, but she was more interested in what he hadn’t said.
Each time he spoke, pieces slotted together in her mind, but she could not yet see the complete puzzle.
He’d claimed he did not drink from humans, but the way he’d licked her finger the night of their wedding suggested his resistance was not because of any lack of desire.
In fact, he’d seemed far more energetic after she’d caught him with Smith.
“Human blood,” she said. “That’s what heals you. Well, that’s easy, then.” She tilted her head to the side and let her robe slide open. “Drink from me.”
He jerked away from her. “No!”
“Why not?” It wasn’t as if this were the first time she’d offered. His continued reluctance to let her give him what he desperately needed was tremendously frustrating.
“You do not know what you are asking,” he said.
“I am asking you to let me help you.”
He shook his head. “I made a vow not to bite humans, Winifred. A vow I have broken several times since you arrived.” He licked his lips.
“You don’t know h-how many p-people I’ve killed during feedings.
” His throat worked. “I could not live with myself if anything happened to you. I would rather die of this affliction.”
Her stomach churned. She’d tried very hard not to dwell on the idea of him taking human lives.
But it was not as if he was hunting for sport. He was a predator, and humans were prey. She could not blame a cat for eating a mouse.
“You are trying to be better,” she said. “That is what matters.”
His expression shuttered. “You don’t understand.”
There he went, cutting a part of himself off from her again. She was growing rather sick of it.
“Please, Marcus.”
His eyes glowed bright blue. “I will not risk forcing you to make the choice I was not given. The answer is no.”
A snippet from one of the occult books he’d provided returned to her. A sharing of blood. That was how vampires spawned offspring. With that fact, the puzzle came together. He feared if he drank too much, he would feel compelled to turn her into a vampire.
She placed her fingers gently on his chest. “I’m not afraid, Marcus. If the worst happens, I won’t blame you.”
If there was the smallest chance that biting her would heal him, then she was willing to try.
Even if it meant giving up the sun and her mortal life.
None of that mattered because Marcus had become her entire world.
She could not imagine a future without him.
Plus, he’d lived for centuries. As a vampire, she would have ample opportunity to research any subject she wished.
She could visit the sights of natural disasters—once Marcus could better manage his attacks.
They could live through history together.
There was the problem of feeding, but if Marcus had abstained from killing humans for so long, she was certain she could adapt as well.
The more she thought about it, the more promising the idea seemed.
Unfortunately, he did not share her enthusiasm.
He stepped back. “Visit Glasgow. Walk beneath the warm rays of the sun and rescue your cousin if you can. But be cautious. It is unlike hunters to allow a vampire to live. When you return, if I have not found a viable treatment, then I will do as you ask.”
Once again, it was what he didn’t say that angered her. He obviously expected that the threat of her returning before he’d succeeded would be sufficient motivation to work through his pain.
She crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere. Not if there’s a chance I’ll return and find you dead. I will send a maid to Glasgow with instructions to escort my cousin back. Felicity’s urgent matter will have to wait.”
“Winifred, please. I don’t want you to walk into a trap, but I cannot—”
“I said no. I am not leaving unless you drink my blood.”
He swayed on his feet. “Do you know what happens after a vampire is turned?” His hair seemed to float away from his head.
“If the maker is strong, the fledgling might last a few hours before blood lust consumes them. My maker did not stop me. I killed dozens, Winifred, before I came to my senses. Perhaps hundreds. I hated her for it, and for making me into a monster.”
She couldn’t imagine how awful it had to have been to realize what he’d done, and to feel such anger toward the woman who had turned him. But as much as she understood his logic, she would not accept it.
“It’s not the same,” she whispered. “I trust you to stop me.”
Then his expression shuttered. “I will not risk turning the descendant of a hunter into a vampire.”
It felt like he’d plunged a dagger into her heart. “You don’t mean that.”
When he did not respond, she stumbled backward, then fled the room.