Blood Red. Sharon Page

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      “London?”

      Althea stared at her father in astonishment. Their carriage swayed as it lurched up the hill to the churchyard and the case on her lap slid across her knees. She tightened her grip on the handle. She didn’t dare let it fall.

      Seated across from her, with the view ahead, Father leaned on his walking stick.

      “Yes, missy, London. It’s too dangerous for you here, lass. And you deserve the excitement of London.”

      The excitement of London? How could London compare to the adventure of hunting Zayan? And the adventure of bedding two men, whispered her naughty internal voice. “What excitement?”

      “You are a young lady. Balls. Dancing. Gentlemen. The sort of things that young women fancy.” His blue eyes twinkled behind his spectacles.

      “But I don’t fancy them. I am doing exactly what I wish to do.”

      “Your mother would have wanted to see you do those things.”

      Oh no, he couldn’t make her feel guilt that way—she didn’t know what Mother would have wanted. Three when her mother had died in childbed with her second child, Althea could barely remember her. The only portraits stayed at Kenworth House, their English home that she rarely saw. Only a tiny miniature was with her to remind her of Mother’s vivacious smile, her vibrant auburn hair, her lively green eyes, and the love and joy she radiated.

      “But she let you continue to hunt vampires because she knew how important it is,” Althea reminded him. “She let you follow your heart.”

      “And my sweet Anne would have me head if she knew I had let you do it.” He stretched out his leg, wincing, and rubbed his thigh through his breeches. “You’re a distraction to me, lass. I can’t be worrying about your safety—”

      “And when have you ever needed to do that? I’m well able to take care of myself.”

      Father leaned back against the seat as the coach took a dip to the right and rattled through deep ruts. “The truth then, lovey? I want you to find yourself a husband. Give me grandchildren. I fancy myself as Grandpa.”

      Her heart dipped as abruptly as the carriage. Marriage? She couldn’t marry! A husband would never accept a vampire-hunting wife. The brief time she’d spent in London had taught her two things. Gentlemen expected a wife to be proper and docile, preferably a pretty china ornament. And twenty-three-year-old bluestockings in spectacles, with only modest family connections and no fortune, did not catch the attention of gentlemen.

      Althea opened her mouth to protest. But a soft light sparkled in her father’s eyes—dreamy happiness at the thought of grandchildren. No doubt her father envisioned sitting beneath an apple tree and bouncing a hearty boy and pretty girl on his knees.

      Her thoughts whirled like the swirling lights of last night. Her father longed for grandchildren. But what of her hopes? Did she want children? She’d always thought she should endeavor to rid the world of evil before bringing children into it, but that was, of course, impossible.

      Would it be worth giving up her dreams, giving herself in marriage, to have children?

      How could she give herself in marriage now?

      A guilty flush swept her face and she couldn’t stop it. Her fingertips tingled as though they still touched the velvety steel of Yannick’s and Bastien’s cocks. Deep in her soul, she heard them moan again. Her body tightened instantly, hot and yearning. Her nipples puckered beneath her plain gown, her gray pelisse. Her quim throbbed like a second heartbeat.

      Would this always happen to her now?

      She turned to the window and watched the small village of Maidensby slip below as the carriage climbed to the church grounds.

      She did see Father’s point. Flooded with thoughts of touching and stroking Yannick and Bastien, she couldn’t think of anything else. Naughty, sinful dream memories controlled her. How exciting it had been to feel them both in her hands. To know they were both hard for her. She loved thinking about their cocks, their hard, powerful bodies, their silvery eyes glowing with sexual hunger. She loved remembering how time had stood still, how nothing else had mattered but pleasure.

      She couldn’t even concentrate on hunting. She wanted only to dream of sex.

      Stop it immediately, Althea warned herself. She dragged her thoughts from the shadowy bedroom of her dreams and looked out at the world around her.

      Pale sunlight struck thatched roofs and shingled ones. Sheep ambled through newly green fields. The carriage climbed, passing a gnarled farmer driving a herd, passing two young ladies in bonnets, mud splatters on their hems, large bouquets of spring flowers held in gloved hands.

      An idyllic place to hide a vampire. A place where she had no right behaving like a…a strumpet.

      “Althea, pet?”

      Her father’s tentative, gentle voice struck her like a rap to her knuckles.

      She turned back, eyes watery. What could she tell him? “But I can’t leave you in the midst of this fight.”

      “I’ll survive it. No fears there.” His smile radiated confidence, but her stomach lurched with the rocking carriage this time.

      She took a deep breath. “But this is what I want.”

      “You don’t know that, pet. I never gave you a chance to have a normal life.”

      “But balls and London and society would never feel normal to me.” How could she give up hunting evil for such an insular, unimportant life?

      And СКАЧАТЬ