Chapter One
Castle Hythe, Kent
August 1817
Ever since Sorcha Ferguson had met her first Lycan, she’d been determined to have one for her very own. And her coven sister had promised there would be Lycans at the Duchess of Hythe’s house party. Since the day that glorious news had reached Sorcha’s ears, she’d planned her entire visit south around the idea of falling in love with a beast just like two of her very best friends had done. Yet she hadn’t seen even one Lycan since she’d been in Kent, and she’d already been at Castle Hythe for a sennight.
There was only one thing left to do. If they wouldn’t come to her, she would go to them. But first, she had to fix the shambles that was the Duchess of Hythe’s orangery.
Sorcha had been nearly overcome with sadness when she’d seen all the plants in such a sad state of neglect.
She scoffed. She was feeling very much like the plants these days. Every one of her friends had married within the last year or so, and she was the only witch in her coven left to find a husband. She snorted. She hadn’t even come close to finding one, and all because those promised Lycans had yet to make an appearance.
Sorcha walked from row to row in the orangery, laying her hands on the forsaken plants. The lilies could use a kind word to boost their spirits. Their stems sagged, and there was not a single bloom to be found. She blew a lock of hair from her eyes in distraction.
A piece of Irish ivy reached out to touch her ankle. The poor thing was yellowed and aching for attention. She smiled and touched her hands to the vine, watching it strengthen and fortify itself right before her eyes. “Ye’re welcome,” she murmured when the vine stroked across the toe of her shoe. She wiped her hands together. The duchess would be appalled if she saw the dirt beneath Sorcha’s fingernails.
“There you are,” Lady Madeline Hayburn called from the other side of the orangery. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Sorcha bit her lip. She shouldn’t have stopped to tend the plants. But she couldn’t just allow them to suffer, could she?
“I was just thinkin’ of goin’ out for a bit,” she said evasively, avoiding the other girl’s gaze as she lifted herself up to sit on a low table.
Maddie’s face fell. “Oh,” she said with an understanding nod. But Sorcha could tell her friend was disappointed. And she’d be the worst sort of friend if she abandoned the young lady to go in search of a man. Or men. Or Lycans. Or her destiny.
Maddie wouldn’t have any idea how to go along without her. Sorcha patted a place beside herself. “I just thought I’d pay a visit ta Eynsford Park. The ride isna too far, from what yer grandmother said.”
Maddie smiled as she settled beside Sorcha, her blond curls bouncing about her shoulders. “I can’t believe how wonderful Grandmamma’s plants look. Just a fortnight ago, this place looked as though it had died a less than peaceful death. You are a miracle worker.”
Sorcha remembered. It had hurt her very heart to see the plants in such shape. “Oh, I just have a bit of a green thumb.”
“Something I clearly lack.” Maddie smoothed her skirts out in front of her. “What is so important at Eynsford Park?”
Only Sorcha’s future. “I just want ta visit my old friend.”
Maddie leaned in conspiratorially. “For years,” she whispered, “the villagers swore a monster resided at Eynsford Park. Did you know?”
Sorcha knew all about that particular monster. And she could hardly wait to lay eyes on his half brothers, especially as the monster, or Lycan, in question was married to her coven sister and dear friend.
“Monster?” she giggled, determined never to give the secret away. “Cait, I mean, Lady Eynsford, would no’ put up with a monster on her grounds.”
Maddie giggled then too. “I can’t imagine the marchioness scaring a monster away. She seems of the sweetest disposition.”
“Ye’ve never seen Cait in a temper.” Sorcha nudged her new friend’s shoulder with her own. “Ye can take my word for it, Maddie. A monster would no’ wish ta make her angry.” Cait in a temper was a force to be reckoned with.
Any self-respecting monster would steer clear of her wrath.
That was what her husband did, after all.
“She sounds like Grandmamma.”
The two were a bit alike with their commanding presence, now that Sorcha thought about it. “And would a monster dare enter Castle Hythe?”
Maddie laughed again. “Not if he had any idea of the dressing down he’d receive. ‘How dare you trod upon my roses!’” She mocked her grandmother’s imperious tone.
“‘Did you just eat my footman? Out with you, and don’t come back until you learn some manners.’”
Sorcha could well imagine her coven sister barking in just that same manner at her wolfish husband. “Well, there ye have it. If a monster couldna dwell here at the castle, it couldna dwell at Eynsford Park either, if it ever did. Would ye like ta ride over there with me?”
She wouldn’t be able to speak freely with Maddie about, but she hated to leave her behind. The English girl was terribly timid when left alone.
Her friend sighed. “I would love to, but Grandmamma would have a fit of apoplexy if I did. She’s expecting more of those gentlemen to arrive, and she’ll expect me to be there to greet them.”
A h, those gentlemen. Men of privilege the Duchess of Hythe had handpicked as acceptable matches for Maddie, men she might want to choose for a husband during her first season. This house party was an opportunity for her friend to see which men she might fancy ahead of time. It also would allow the duchess to investigate their character more closely and determine if a match might be made.
Sorcha had a reasonably sized dowry, one that would be considered large at home in Edinburgh, but it didn’t compare to the fortune attached to Lady Madeline Hayburn.
Hopefully, the gentlemen present would see more than pound signs when they looked at Maddie. She was the sweetest girl and deserved a gentleman who appreciated all her good qualities.
If more of those gentlemen were arriving today, Sorcha’s excursion to Eynsford Park would have to be put off. She wouldn’t throw Maddie to the wolves. That made her giggle.
She was the one looking for a Lycan, after all.
“We doona have ta go as far as The Park. We could just ride around the castle grounds. I’ll send Lady Eynsford a note askin’ her ta come visit me instead.”
If only there was a way to beg Cait to bring some of Eynsford’s Lycan relations with her, but her coven sister was adamant that a beast was not in Sorcha’s future, so the odds of that happening were slim, to say the least.
Maddie’s green eyes twinkled almost as brightly as her smile. “Let me go get my habit, and I’ll meet you in the east drawing room.”
After changing into her riding habit, Sorcha penned a note to Caitrin Eynsford. That took a little longer than she had expected as she tried to find the right words to entice her coven sister to bring along her pack. Finally, note in hand, Sorcha left her chambers and made her way through the twisting and turning corridors that made up Castle Hythe. Once on the main level, she handed her note to the Hythes’ stoic butler with directions that it be delivered to The Park at once.
She smoothed her sapphire riding habit into place and frowned. It was a bit long. She’d have to fix that later when no one was watching. Magic spells tended to make most people a little squeamish. Looking at her feet to make sure the hem didn’t touch the ground, Sorcha started toward the east drawing room without even glancing up and promptly ran headfirst into an immovable object that blocked her path.
“Ouch!” Her head shot up. As she reached for the injury, she looked right into the black-as-night eyes of an old friend. Tall and handsome as ever, he was a friendly face in this English world, and she’d never been so happy to see him.
“Alec!” she gushed. “I had no idea ye would be here.”
~*~
Alec MacQuarrie’s mouth fell open when his eyes landed on Sorcha, of all people. What the devil was she doing here? He hadn’t imagined he’d cross paths with the witch again, not since his life had been irrevocably changed. Alec took a step back, and if he’d needed to breathe, he’d have taken a steadying breath. As it was, he could hear the blood pounding in her veins. She smelled, like she always did, of Scottish apple blossoms in the springtime. Damn his mouth for watering! This was Sorcha, for God’s sake. “I —uh—How are you, lass?”
She grinned at him, her pretty face upturned and filled with joy as it always was. “Wonderful. Well, I would be if this riding habit was just a bit shorter.”
Even in her unflattering dress, she wasn’t the child he remembered. Damnation, when did Sorcha become a woman?
“I was supposed ta meet Maddie in the drawin’ room. Come with me?” She linked her arm with his and led him down the corridor before he had time to respond.
“Maddie?” he asked, once his mind caught up to him.
She stopped walking, and he nearly tripped over the little wood sprite. “Lady Madeline, I should have said.” She beamed up at him. “I wonder, are ye one of those gentlemen?”
Had she ever made sense? Not that he could remember, now that he thought about it. “What gentlemen?”
“Oh, I bet ye are.” She again began towing him down the corridor. “Maddie—Lady Madeline—would do well ta choose ye, Alec. Ye’d see her for the sweet lady she is. I ken ye would.”
“What are you talking about, Sorcha?” He planted his feet in the corridor, drawing her to a stop and forcing her to look up at him. “Tell me or I won’t take another step.”
Her soft brown eyes sparkled with exuberance. “What do ye want ta ken?”
Alec tipped her chin up so he could see her more clearly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why are you at Castle Hythe?” He didn’t remember an association between the Fergusons and the Duke or Duchess of Hythe.
He hadn’t even realized Sorcha was acquainted with the family.
“Well, Her Grace invited me at Rhi’s weddin’. And I’ve made fast friends with Lady Madeline, her granddaughter. But that’s no’ why I’ve come. No’ really.”
Alec had been so hurt, so angry during that wedding.
Knowing that his maker, his mentor, had abandoned him to a dark world with which he was unfamiliar. No wonder he didn’t remember anything that had transpired that day. Alec shook his head as the rest of her words sank in. “Why have you come?”
A mischievous grin spread across her face. “Because,” she whispered, “I am searchin’ for a Lycan of my very own, and Eynsford Park is within ridin’ distance.”
If she’d coshed him over the head with a broadsword he wouldn’t have been more stunned. Cait was nearby? He hadn’t realized. Good God. How had he not realized it?
Damn fool that he was. He’d spent months avoiding polite society, making a place for himself in his new life. After one summons from the Duchess of Hythe, he was right back where he’d started—thinking about Cait.
Sorcha gasped and covered her mouth, her eyes silently begging to be forgiven.
“It’s all right,” he lied. “She married Eynsford. I’ve accepted that.”
Certainly, even Sorcha could see through him. He had to get away. Alec turned around and headed back for the entrance. He could be back in London in the blink of an eye and forget he’d ever come to Kent, or at least try to.
He halted, unable to move an inch. What else had Sorcha said? She was searching for a Lycan of her own?
And the only Lycans that would be present at Eynsford Park aside from that blasted marquess were Eynsford’s relations, whom Alec was fairly certain were the man’s brothers, or half brothers, as the case might be. Viscount Radbourne and the wild Hadley twins. Three of the most depraved men in all of Britain. They were walking scandals.
They were trouble. They were dead if even one of them felt the urge to claim Sorcha.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the little witch. A horrified expression still lingered on her face. Well, he was feeling just as horrified. Alec was back in front of her in a flash.
“Do you mean to say,” he whispered so softly that no one but she could possibly hear him, “you were hoping to catch yourself one of those drooling beasts?”
Her horror quickly grew into indignation. “They doona drool.”
Blast it, she did hope to catch one! “Oh, I happen to know they do,” Alec grumbled.
Sorcha heaved a sigh as though he was the most troublesome man in existence. Then without a word, she spun on her heel and stalked off toward some unknown destination.
Alec was only a step behind her. “Have you lost your mind? Those creatures aren’t for you. I can’t believe your father would approve.”
She paid him no attention as she burst into a drawing room. Inside on a small divan, a young blonde in a green habit smiled at their entrance.
“There you are,” the chit gushed, rising from her seat. “I’m having our mounts readied, and—” She blushed crimson when she spotted Alec. “H-hello,” she stammered.
Sorcha thrust her arm backward as though to deny his existence. “Pay him no mind, Maddie.”
Stubborn little witch! Where had she gotten it in her mind that she should saddle herself with a bloody Lycan? What the devil was so enticing about the beasts? “Sorcha, I’m not done speaking with you.”
“Pity,” she bit out. “I’m done speakin’ with ye.”
“Ah!” a crackly voice came from the corridor. “Mr. MacQuarrie, I am so glad you accepted my invitation.” The Duchess of Hythe, a dragon of the first order, stepped into the drawing room. Her icy blue eyes raked over Alec as though she was admiring his form.
He gulped. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
The duchess gestured to the blond chit. “Have you met my granddaughter?”
Not unless one considered Sorcha’s “Pay him no mind, Maddie,” an introduction. “I’m afraid I haven’t.”
Her Grace rose to her full height and beckoned her granddaughter forward. “Mr. Alec MacQuarrie, this is Lady Madeline Hayburn and her delightful friend, Miss Ferguson.”
“We’ve met,” Alec growled. At the duchess’ imperious expression, he softened his voice and amended, “That is, Miss Ferguson and I are old acquaintances.”
“Neighbors in Edinburgh,” Sorcha clarified as though to distance herself from him even further.
The duchess shifted her gaze to the lass who still had her back to Alec. “You are so well connected, Sorcha,” she replied in a very congenial tone, not one usually associated with the Duchess of Hythe. Had Sorcha managed to charm the old dragon too? Apparently. The woman had called her by her Christian name.
Of course, Sorcha had that effect on everyone. Anyone who came near her adored her. And… his eyes lowered to her perfectly rounded bottom, which he’d never noticed before. He could easily move his hand to caress her if he was of a mind to do so.
Damn it all to hell! Those bloody Lycans would be all over her in an instant. She’d get her wish in that regard, but she wouldn’t be happy with the outcome. In the last few months, his path had unfortunately crossed that of the Hadley brothers on more than one occasion. A more degenerate group of men didn’t exist.
Poor Sorcha wouldn’t realize that until it was too late, however. She was sweet and innocent and… out of her bloody mind if she thought he would stand by and let her literally throw herself to the wolves. Especially those damned wolves. Eynsford’s pack. His stomach roiled at the very thought.
“Sorcha, if I might have a word alone with you,” Alec said to the wood sprite.
She glanced back over her shoulder at him, and Alec forgot what he was going 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.