His Ruthless Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 4) Read Free Page B

worry about that from you, will I?”
    Lenore shook her head. “No, my lord.” What else could she say?
    His grin broadened until she glimpsed the tips of his fangs. He extended his arm. “Shall we?”
    Her belly quivered as she placed her fingertips on the sleeve of his greatcoat, feeling his muscles flex in answer to her touch. Unbidden, the memory of being in his arms washed over her in a potent wave… his wrist pressed to her mouth as his powerful blood rejuvenated her starved and weakened body. The rough timbre of his voice as he’d coaxed her to drink… the softness of his bed, the feel of her mouth on his flesh.
    She licked her lips in remembrance of his taste.
    He’d saved her life that night, so she truly believed he didn’t mean her any harm, but what did he intend?
    Her thoughts buzzed like a swarm of bees as Rafael and Cassandra followed them in.
    Lenore’s eyes widened at the vast and elaborate estate, which was even larger than Burnrath House. Rather than one sweeping staircase leading into the foyer, there were two. Ancient tapestries from centuries past adorned the walls, interspersed with gilded sconces in fanciful shapes.
    Her feet sank into the plush Aubusson carpet as they entered a receiving room that was more imposing than cozy. Instead of inviting maple wood chairs with flowery embroidered cushions, Rochester’s chairs were large and elaborately carved of wood so dark it looked black. Fitting for the Baron of Darkwood. Lenore’s lips twisted in an ironic smile.
    Rochester caught her gaze. “Please, take a seat. The chair won’t bite.”
    But you will . Lenore thought silently as she did as bid, sitting next to Cassandra.
    The countess ran a finger along the arm of her chair, admiring the carvings of leaves and a coat of arms. “The craftsmanship is exquisite,” she said somewhat grudgingly.
    Rochester inclined his head, ignoring her tone. “Thank you. They were part of the manor when it was first built. This home has been in my family since the Fourteenth century. My father was a one of King Edward’s most loyal vassals.”
    Lenore’s chest tightened at the daunting weight of his age and sense of history. My father was a chimney sweep. Her shoulders slumped before she caught herself. I do not belong here.
    Rafael lit his cigar and narrowed his amber eyes on Rochester. “Enough prevaricating. Just what, precisely, are your intentions toward Miss Graves?”
    Rochester chuckled. “I am glad someone finally asked. You were so concerned about what I what I won’t do with the lovely Miss Graves that I never thought I’d have the opportunity to discuss what I do intend. And I can assure you that my intentions are honorable.” A glint of humor lit his eyes as if he were savoring some private jest.
    Before anyone could prod him to elaborate, the Lord Vampire of Rochester rose from his seat and approached Lenore. He took her hand, his grip strong, yet reverent, and sank to one knee. Lenore was so distracted with his touch that she nearly missed his words.
    “Lenore Graves, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife for the next five decades?”
     
     
     

Three
     
    Gavin watched Lenore’s already large brown eyes widen in astonishment. He did so enjoy her surprise. Poor, frail younglings likely never received proposals from Lord Vampires.
    “What?” she whispered softly.
    “I would like you to be my baroness.”
    Her lush pink lips parted and her lashes fluttered like captive butterflies. “Why?”
    “As I’d told your lord,” Gavin paused to grin at Rafael, who continued to gape at him. “I admire your loyalty and could find it very useful.”
    Lenore shrank back in her seat, looking at Gavin like he was a monster about to devour her. To his surprise, her blatant terror at his proposal stung, despite the fact that he’d expected some measure of trepidation.
    Before Lenore could reply, Cassandra rose from her seat and strode over to Rochester, fangs bared, green eyes blazing