One Summer At The Castle. Jules Bennett
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‘Do what?’ Liam adopted an innocent expression, but he could tell from her face that she knew he had.
‘Try to frighten me,’ she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest, where her heart was beating wildly. ‘Honestly—’ she endeavoured to calm herself ‘—you almost gave me a heart attack.’
‘I’m sorry.’
But he didn’t sound particularly sorry, and Rosa recoiled instinctively when he leant past her and pushed open the door. ‘After you,’ he said, apparently unaware that his hand had brushed the side of her breast as he did so. Her breast tingled, and Rosa stiffened, but he seemed indifferent to her response.
However, Liam wasn’t indifferent, and he was glad when she turned and went ahead of him into the room. For God’s sake, he thought, annoyed with himself as much as her. She was behaving like an outraged virgin and he was experiencing the kind of reaction that would have been pathetic when he was a teenager.
What was wrong with him, for pity’s sake? He had no interest in repressed spinsters. Women who knew little about sex, and what they did know scared them rigid. When he needed a woman, he preferred one who knew the score.
All the same, a little voice inside him taunted, it might be amusing to see how she’d react if he came on to her. It was years since he’d used sex as anything more than an infrequent necessity, with good reason. And just because Rosa Chantry intrigued him, it was no reason to think anything had changed. She’d be just as horrified as Kayla had been when she’d seen his injuries. But it would have been so nice to pull the pins out of her hair and feel all that fiery silk spilling into his hands…
Once again he steeled himself against that kind of madness. Despite the ache between his legs, he was determined not to give her another reason to accuse him of upsetting her. Hell, he didn’t need that kind of aggravation, but if that childish plait and masculine outfit were intended to deter any thoughts of a sexual nature they were having quite the opposite effect.
He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it, struggling to gain control of his sudden need. Rosa had hurried across the room, meanwhile, obviously wanting to put a safe distance between them. Then, when she felt she’d achieved her objective, she turned to face him.
‘I—was looking for you,’ she said, linking her hands together at her waist, unaware that it was a particularly protective stance. ‘I wanted to thank you.’
‘To thank me?’ Liam couldn’t think of anything she’d want to thank him for, but Rosa’s lips had tightened.
‘For allowing me to stay the night,’ she informed him primly. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘Ah.’ Liam was relieved to feel the restriction in his trousers easing, and he straightened away from the door. ‘No problem.’ He waited a beat. ‘Were you comfortable?’
‘Very comfortable, thank you.’
‘Good.’ Liam came further into the room. ‘I’m sorry I had to leave you on your own all evening. I’m afraid I fell asleep, and didn’t wake until after midnight.’
Rosa was tempted to say, How appropriate bearing in mind his occupation, but she didn’t. She was still intensely aware of him, and inviting that kind of intimacy wasn’t sensible. ‘It’s all right,’ she said instead. ‘Your housekeeper looked after me. I slept really well.’
‘You weren’t afraid I might turn into a vampire in the night and ravish you?’ Liam couldn’t resist the urge to tease her and she flushed.
‘Only briefly,’ she retorted, surprising him again. ‘But I’m fairly sure vampires don’t ride ferries or drive cars in broad daylight.’
‘Luther Killian does,’ he said at once, and Rosa gave him an old-fashioned look.
‘Luther Killian doesn’t exist,’ she said. ‘Or only in your imagination, anyway.’
‘You think?’
Rosa shook her head. ‘You’re not telling me you believe in vampires, Mr Jameson?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He nodded. ‘There have been too many reports of sightings, both here and in Eastern Europe. And if you went to New Orleans—’
‘Which I’m not likely to do,’ she said tightly, realising she was letting him distract her from her purpose. She ought to be asking him if she could use his phone again, instead of indulging in a discussion about mythical monsters. Shrugging, she made a face. ‘I know very little about such things, Mr Jameson. But I imagine it makes good publicity for your books.’
Liam caught his breath. ‘You think that’s all it is?’ He was indignant.
‘Well, I don’t know, do I? I know nothing about vampires.’
‘You know they don’t normally go out in sunlight,’ he reminded her, and she sighed.
‘Everyone knows that.’ And then, unable to resist it, ‘Except Luther Killian, apparently.’
‘Ah, but Luther is only half inhuman. His mother was a witch before she met Luther’s dad.’
Rosa couldn’t help smiling. ‘And he converted her, I suppose?’
‘Vampires always convert their victims,’ agreed Liam, closing the space between them. ‘D’you want me to show you how?’
Rosa backed up. ‘I know how, Mr Jameson,’ she mumbled, not sure if he was teasing her now or not. ‘Please—’ She held out her hand in front of her. ‘I’m not a character in one of your books.’
‘No,’ he conceded flatly, aware that he was in danger of allowing their relationship to develop into something it was not. He turned back towards his desk, hearing her sudden relieved intake of breath as he did so. ‘You’re obviously not a believer.’
Rosa sighed now. She didn’t want to offend him, for heaven’s sake. ‘A believer in what?’ she asked, much against her better judgement, and he turned to rest his hips against the granite surface.
‘In the supernatural,’ he said carelessly, folding his arms. ‘What was it you said on the way here? Ghosts and werewolves—we call them shapechangers, by the way—and things that go bump in the night.’
Rosa shrugged. ‘And you are?’
‘Oh, sure. Anyone who has encountered evil in its purest form has to be.’
Rosa frowned. ‘Are you saying you’ve encountered evil?’
Oh, yes.
For a moment Liam thought he’d said the words out loud, but the expectant look on her face assured him he hadn’t. Thank God!
‘I suppose we all encounter evil in one form or another,’ he prevaricated, having no intention of discussing his experiences with her. He’d already stepped too far over the mark, and he backtracked into the only avenue open to him. ‘Luther certainly has.’
‘Oh, Luther!’ She was disparaging. ‘Who’s only a character in your books.’
‘The main character,’ he corrected her. ‘He’s what you’d call an anti-hero. He kills, but his intentions are always good.’
‘Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?’ she exclaimed at once. ‘How can anyone—or anything—that makes a living killing people be regarded as good?’
Liam shrugged, and as he did so Rosa caught a glimpse of something silvery against his neck. It was either a birthmark or a scar of some sort, and her mouth went dry. It occurred to her that it might have been made by someone’s—or something’s—teeth.
Oh, God!
‘I suppose that depends on your definition of good and evil,’ he replied, diverting her. ‘Isn’t ridding the world of genuinely wicked individuals worthy of some respect?’
Rosa