Page 17 of Bad Luck Vampire

Ho! her mind bellowed.

What was wrong with her? She’d never acted like this before. She was a one-woman man. No, wait, she was a one-man woman. Whatever, Sophie thought with exasperation, she knew what she meant. But that little mix-up just showed how much Alasdair messed with her thinking, and she had no idea why. Sure, he was good-looking, and he had that whole silent, stoic sexiness about him, but Tybo was good-looking too.

Maybe it had something to do with his scent, she thought suddenly. Sophie hadn’t really noticed it until she’d pulled away and could no longer inhale it so readily, but Alasdair had this sexy, woodsy, spicy aroma about him that just made her want to bury her nose in his neck.

That was it, she assured herself. It wasn’t him, it was whatever amazing cologne he was wearing. Spray a bit of that on Tybo and she’d want to climb all over him too, sniffing like a drug dog.

Swiveling her head around to look at him, she asked, “What cologne are you wearing?”

Alasdair’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “I’m not. Wearing cologne, I mean.”

“Oh,” Sophie said weakly, and spun away to pretend to look at Marguerite once more. Dear God, he wasn’t wearing cologne. That was just... him. Someone needed to bottle that shit. They’d make a killing on the market selling his natural scent as cologne. Women all over the world would be attacking any man who wore it.

A laugh from Colle had her glancing over her shoulder with curiosity, but he quickly shook his head and muttered, “Sorry. Just thought of something... so adorably funny.”

“Oh,” Sophie said with uncertainty, and then her gaze slid to Alasdair to find him staring at her, his eyes smoldering with that golden glow growing in them again. Damn those were some beautiful eyes. The way the light played with them was almost mesmerizing and she found herself leaning toward him again to get a closer look at his burning irises. A big mistake, she realized almost at once. His scent immediately enveloped her again and she found her eyes dropping to his lips once more and her body swaying closer to his, straining toward him like a flower toward the sun. Even worse, Alasdair was doing the same, his body leaning and mouth lowering toward hers.

Dear God, it was going to happen, Sophie thought with a combination of dismay and eagerness. They were going to kiss. A man who wasn’t her date was about to kiss her and she wasn’t stopping him. It was bad and awful, and she’d definitely owe Tybo an apology, but Sophie couldn’t seem to help herself. He was close enough now that she could feel his breath on her lips and she let her eyelids droop closed.

“Oh hell, here they come.”

Sophie straightened abruptly, her eyes blinking open at Colle’s words. She then turned away from Alasdair out of a desperate need to reclaim her equilibrium. She immediately found her gaze landing on the four burly men making their way toward the table where she and the twins sat. She was so overset at her second almost-kiss with Alasdair and the shame that she was actually disappointed it hadn’t been accomplished, that it took until the men had nearly reached the table for her to recognize the uncles. Inan, Odart, Connor, and Ludan. She knew their names, just not who was who.

Sophie tried to watch the approaching men with interest rather than the resentment she was feeling at their arrival interrupting their almost-kiss. But then she realized what she was thinking, and forced herself to push those feelings away. She should be grateful. She had no business letting Alasdair kiss her, and she doubted he’d think much of her if she did.

That thought troubled her enough that she made herself push him from her mind and concentrate properly on the four men approaching, which turned out to be easier than she would have thought. It was the way they were dressed. She’d seen men in Scottish dress in magazines or perhaps online before. The kilts, short jackets with silver buttons, matching vests, white winged collar shirts, bow ties, sporrans, high socks, and odd shoes with long laces she thought were called brogues. But she’d never seen anyone dressed like that in real life, and real life was fascinating. It was a really hot outfit, she decided, and suspected Alasdair would look amazing in it.

All four men had longish hair as well as beards and mustaches, and while Sophie usually wasn’t a fan of facial hair, on these men it looked good. Between their outfits and general handsomeness, Sophie decided she might like to take a trip to Scotland one day. Maybe she could convince Alasdair to—

Sophie stopped her thoughts right there. Dear God, she was here with Tybo! What was the matter with her?

“Here we are, at the best table in the place and with the bonniest lass.”

Sophie blinked her thoughts away and stiffened in surprise when her hand was taken by the first of the men and pressed to his lips as he bowed before her. She stared at him wide-eyed, and then a startled burble of laughter slipped from her lips when the devil lifted his head just enough for him to wink at her before he straightened and moved aside as the next man stepped up to perform the same action.

“A pleasure, lass,” the second man said as he too bowed to press his lips to the back of the hand he’d claimed.

“So bonnie,” the third complimented as he too performed the ritual.

“We are truly lucky men to be able to enjoy yer company at this celebration,” the fourth said before kissing her hand.

Sophie simply watched as they moved around the table to claim their seats. She then turned to Alasdair and whispered, “They don’t seem foulmouthed or like barbarians.”

“Och now, who’s been tellin’ tales?” the first one who had kissed her hand demanded as he settled in his seat. Although the word now had sounded more like new.

Sophie blinked at him with alarm. She’d been sure she’d whispered quietly enough they couldn’t have heard.

“No tales, Uncle Connor,” Colle said, not looking the least bit upset that her words had been overheard. “We were just describing the four of you to Sophie.”

“And ye did a muckle fine job o’ it, lad,” the third man who had kissed her hand said with good humor. Sophie knew this speaker was Inan only because he was sitting one seat over from Colle and she knew Odart was beside Colle, and Inan beside him. That meant the other two men were Connor and Ludan.

“Oh, good, you gentlemen found our table.”

Sophie glanced around at that gay comment to see that Marguerite and Julius had returned.

“O’ course we did,” Connor said with a smile. “The best table in the house, with the loveliest lassies? E’en blind we’d ha’e sniffed it out.”

Marguerite chuckled at the claim as she settled into the chair Julius pulled out for her. “Have you been here long?”

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