FOREVER KNIGHTS: #9 Feral Breed

Because it most certainly is.

Balls, galas, luncheons I don’t wish to attend. Across the room from the only woman I find intriguing.

“If that were the case, then why be here?”

Because I’m ordered to.

“Perhaps I have…Obligations.”

“Perhaps more dalliances here?” She countered. When he said nothing further, she let the subject drop.

The dance concluded, and he offered her a formal bow.

She returned it with a half-hearted curtsy.

Any parting comment I’d make, she would most assuredly snub. Little viper-tongued wench.

The Widow Anna Valentine watched amused at Mera’s approach. Boding ill for Meralee.

“What?” She eyed her friend as she approached.

“I do believe the handsome lord doth like the chilling lady.” Anna commented with an elbow bump.

Anna suddenly cried out in mock desperation, throwing the back of her hand to her forehead as though she’d swoon. “My love stolen. My only love!”

Mera’s lips twitched as she struggled to refrain from laughing. Working to maintain her scowl.

“There’s never only one love for you, Anna.” She rolled her eyes. “And you,” She shook a finger in the shorter woman’s face. “I won’t soon be forgetting that little show of yours.”

Handing her over to me. Thank you, Valentine.

Anna laughed heartily at her obvious outrage. “So angry, my dear.”

After a time, Meralee’s fury abated and she was laughing again, mocking the more ridiculous costumes in attendance. One widow even bolder than Anna, was daringly garbed as a ‘Lady of the Night’.

“Still no Nora.” Mera murmured worriedly.

“I’m certain she’s fine.” Anna gave her arm a squeeze. But Lucien caught the raised note in her voice that indicated she was being deceptive.

She’s worried too.

Several gentlemen wandered to join Anna in conversation. Jesting about the dowager’s beaked noses and protruding chins. Trying to coerce a dance or two from the lovely Widow Valentine. Though none dared ask Mera for a dance.

Cowards. She’s only as vicious as you let her be. It doesn’t occur to her those men are just trying to get close to her. Lucien recognized.

Though pretty, Valentine’s looks were no match for the perfect lines of Meralee’s face and form. Or the appealing honey hue of her skin. The graceful turn of her head and the delicious lines of that long neck.

So badly needing a bite mark along it. Lucien licked his lips. I wonder if her skin tastes as sweet as it looks.

It wasn’t long before her expression turned to boredom at the hum of activity. Eyes sliding to the garden doors.

When her attention diverted, he headed that way. Creeping out without a sound.

She waited until Anna wasn’t paying attention and made her way out the glass doors.

With no one the wiser, she thought.

The breeze carried the lulling scent of rain.

Sighing she closed her eyes, knowing the path through the blooms and orchards well. She started when the Simon Worthington stepped into her path. “What are you doing here?”

“My Lady, I’ve received word from Miss Bishop. She has need of my assistance.”

“For what? Is she okay?” Mera’s distaste for him, was set aside at the mention of her friend. “Where has she been?”

Rosewynn Manor.

“She sounds to be in good health though she needs funds. She’s apparently suffering dire straits due to the debts accrued by the Bishop family. I intend to help her.”

“Why didn’t she ask me?” Mera cried. Putting a hand to her mouth in sincere appall. “Debts by her father.” Her tone turned bitter. Then her innate wariness set in. Eyes slitting on him like he was something dirty. “Where is she?”

“She’s residing in a Manor outside Meadowbrook. I’ll be sending her funds directly and have every intention of assisting her return.”

Good luck getting around the Captain. Lucien’s jaw ticked. As he watched from the shadow of the gazebo at the end of the path.

“You were never kind to her before. Why now?”

“I wanted nothing more than to offer her kindness but she always found fault in my intentions.”

“Likely because they were faulty.” She said dryly. “What is it you want from me?” She crossed her darkly gloved arms over her chest. Swishing the satin of her tunic.

Lucien leaned a shoulder against the lattice surrounding the gazebo’s base.

Worthington lifted a hand to stop Meralee’s words. “I know what you’ll say. But I’ve apologized profusely to Miss Bishop for all my untoward behavior. We’ve been corresponding.”

The hell you have.

Deragan would’ve intercepted any missive to you, she’d intended to send.

“That’s how she requested funds.” He elaborated.

She didn’t. Lucien was sure it was a lie.