Page 15 of Wynter's Bite

Pleading a headache, Bethany remained in her room for the rest of the evening, vowing to give Lord de Wynter the cut direct next time she saw him.

Chapter Seven

Justus winced as Bethany looked pointedly away from him at the Haverly musicale. For two nights he’d been seeking her out, and now that he found her, she cut him.

He’d done something to hurt her, but it took him a moment to discern what. Interactions with debutantes was not his strong suit. Bloody hell... He nearly clapped his palm over his face at his stupidity. She was a debutante.

Likely after having time to reflect, she now thought him ungentlemanly for kissing her in the Willoughbys’ garden.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Luring her anywhere private was improper of him. One misstep, or even a spark of suspicion from another, and Bethany could be ruined. No wonder she was now avoiding him.

Guilt pervaded his being. He needed to apologize, to promise that he’d never do anything that could tarnish her reputation again.

Just as he started forward, a hand grasped his shoulder. Justus swiveled around to see the Lord Vampire of Rochester glaring at him.

“What do you think you are doing?” Gavin demanded, eyes narrowed.

“I... ah.” Justus cleared his throat and tried to think of a satisfactory response.

“Don’t bother prevaricating, or worse, lying to me.” The Baron of Darkwood spoke through clenched teeth fixed in a false smile to detract from suspicious eyes. “You’ve been sniffing around the Mead chit like a stag in the rut.”

Justus cringed at such crude phrasing applying to Bethany. “I’m not sniffing. She has an interest in Medieval literature. I merely loaned her a novel and we’ve been discussing the tale.”

“See to it that discussion is all you engage in,” Gavin bit out. “Or better yet, find someone less conspicuous to prattle with about your hobby. Although I’ve lectured countless younglings about the hazards of associating with mortal maidens, I never imagined that I’d have to warn my own second in command.”

“Yes, my lord.” Justus bowed before hastening away from his master. It wouldn’t do to linger around Gavin when he was in a foul mood. Especially when Justus had to bite his tongue to refrain from objecting to such a high-handed scolding. And he wondered what sort of creature had crawled up Gavin’s trousers to make him more disagreeable than usual.

He wasn’t a youngling. He knew very well that one must maintain discretion when interacting with mortals. And it wasn’t as if he were courting Bethany, or showing her his fangs.

His memory flew back to that night in the Willoughbys’ garden, the feel of her warm and yielding body in his arms, the taste of her kiss, the way she’d gasped when he’d pressed his lips to the tender flesh of her neck. The temptation to sink his fangs into her pulsing vein for a taste.

He bit back a groan as his body responded with arousal.

Perhaps Gavin did have cause for concern. Justus couldn’t deny that he was maddeningly attracted to the young woman. Yet even deeper than a physical response was a feeling of kinship with her.

Although Justus could restrain his lust, he could not bear to sever their friendship. A friendship that would die if he did not do the decent thing and apologize for his ungentlemanly behavior the other day. Gavin may prefer that Bethany maintain her icy distance from him, but Justus did not. After only two nights of not seeing her, he felt bereft without her presence. And the thought of any contention between them was intolerable.

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