Never Been Bit Read Free

to say. When had her eyes become that bedeviling? She blinked, her long lashes sweeping across her cheeks. Freckles. Why had he never realized she had freckles? It made him wonder if she had those little spots of color all over. Dear God. Now all he’d be able to think about was what marks the little witch wore on her most sensitive places.
    The Duchess of Hythe raised her eyebrows. Well, she raised one of them. The other one scrunched up in a most offended fashion. “Is this a word that cannot be shared with the rest of us, Mr. MacQuarrie?” she asked.
    He opened his mouth, however nothing but a croaking sound came out. He closed it. He must resemble a fish. A very uncomfortable fish. He’d hoped to save Sorcha from Lycans, and instead he’d somehow turned into a blasted salmon.
    “If he shared the word, Yer Grace,” Sorcha piped up, “then it wouldna be a surprise.” She looked up at Alec, and her eyes danced at him in warning. He would kill her. Or kiss her. He wasn’t certain which.
    “A surprise?” the duchess gasped as she laid a hand on her chest. Her flesh jiggled at the edge of her bodice. “For me?”
    He swung his gaze to Sorcha’s bodice. Definitely a better view. In fact, it was one he couldn’t take his eyes off.
    “Mr. MacQuarrie?” the duchess prompted.
    “Yes, Your Grace,” Alec said with a small bow, ripping his gaze from Sorcha’s person. “If I told you, the surprise would be ruined.”
    The shrewd old woman’s eyes narrowed. Then she giggled. That old matriarch giggled like a girl still in the schoolroom. “I do so love a surprise.” She clapped her hands together with glee. “May I have just a hint?” She held her fingers up with about an inch of space between them and looked at him as though he’d hung the moon and stars.
    “Grandmamma,” the little blonde said. She had a name.
    But Alec would be damned if he could remember it. Not with Sorcha standing directly beside her. “Let the man have his fun. It appears as though he and Miss Ferguson have been in one another’s pockets for quite some time.”
    “Young man, if I find you anywhere near Miss Ferguson’s pockets, I will—” the duchess began.
    “Yer Grace!” Sorcha protested. “He has never been anywhere near my pockets. I can assure you it’s the furthest thing from his mind.”
    But it wasn’t, though he felt more comfortable keeping that to himself.
    The duchess held up one hand to stop Sorcha’s diatribe.
    “If I find you anywhere near Miss Ferguson’s pockets…” she said as she threaded her arm through his and started down the corridor, leading him along. The duchess dropped her voice down to a conciliatory whisper. “…I will be most delighted.”
    Good God. Now he had Sorcha to watch after and a surprise for the duchess to create out of thin air. If that wasn’t bad enough, Her Grace had him thinking lascivious thoughts. And she clearly wasn’t at all ashamed for having placed them in his mind.
    The duchess reached for his lapel. “Where did you get that flower, Mr. MacQuarrie?” she asked. “It’s quite remarkable.”
    He wasn’t wearing a flower. Well, he hadn’t been a few minutes earlier. He glanced down at his jacket to find the happiest white orchid peeking out of his buttonhole. Alec looked back over his shoulder to find Sorcha grinning at him. That little witch was trouble. Beautiful, beguiling trouble.

Chapter Two
    “Why were you quarreling with Mr. MacQuarrie?” Maddie asked as a groom helped her onto her sidesaddle.
    Sorcha, already atop her spirited chestnut, tossed her head back to look at the clouds as though she hadn’t heard her friend’s question and let the sun warm her skin. After all, what was she to say? Well, the irritable vampyre doesn’t care for werewolves since one stole the love of his life last year . Hardly. She might as well ride for London and admit herself to Bedlam. She lowered her head, smoothed her hand over her horse’s neck, and cooed to the