Blood Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

connected, driving her heel hard into his most sensitive place.
    The vampire jerked, flinched, but his hands clamped tightly on Mr. Swift’s broad shoulders.
    Mr. Swift snapped his head to the side. “Christ Jesus! Thank you, sweetheart, but he’s plunged deeper!”
    Blood rolled down Mr. Swift’s neck. Rivulets of it, racing over his tanned-bronze skin, soaking into his pristine white collar, into his cravat and coat. He flicked his arm and a sharpened stake slid into his hand.
    Serena kicked again to divert the vampire’s attention as Mr. Swift gripped the stake. It worked—Guillaime kicked out at her. His foot slammed into her ribs before she could roll. The wind flew from her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Whimpering against her will, Serena tensed for the next blow.
    “Stay down, Miss Lark,” Sommersby commanded. He trained a crossbow on Guilliame. Her heart pounded furiously, in panic for Swift, while his lordship adjusted his aim, his movements calm and controlled. With a flick of his hand, he fired, and the bolt raced toward them.
    Instinctively she shut her eyes. She heard the Guillaime’s shriek as the bolt drove through his heart.
    He fell away from Mr. Swift’s neck, crumpled to the table. She had enough breath to push herself away as his body dropped. For a brief moment she was in free fall. Then the floor greeted her with a smack. Her teeth rattled. Her head seemed to separate from her neck and then snap back with a shattering pain.
    She craned her neck, though it hurt like the devil to do it. Aristide and Brittan sprawled, slain, on the floor. Liam and Guilliame were destroyed. Roman was gone. Where was Leonardo?
    “Bastard!” Mr. Swift shouted. “Two escaped. Damn them to hell! I’ve never lost a bloody vampire before.”
    She didn’t care that they weren’t destroyed. She was safe.
    Or was she? Why were the hunters here? What did they know about her?
    “Miss Lark?”
    Elegant black-clad fingers brushed her tangled hair back. A face came into view—one surrounded by tousled hair the color of coffee. Lord Sommersby bent over her, and she gazed up into compelling and worried dark brown eyes, fringed by the longest lashes she’d ever seen.
    “My—my lord.” She must have clutched the robe as she fell off the table. It had landed with her, and now she was wrapped in it, so she was covered at least.
    “God—” Sommersby abruptly drew back. His mouth became a grim line—he had a beautiful mouth, wide, firm. Quite unlike Mr. Swift’s, which was pouting, boyish, and heart-wrenchingly sensual. “You almost got yourself killed, you little fool.”
    “I am not a little fool.” Defying the throbbing pain in her skull, Serena sat up. She held the silk robe to her chest, and though she fumed at his arrogant tone, she prayed Lord Sommersby’s only thought was— how could this silly little governess imagine herself to be a vampire slayer? She prayed he didn’t know the truth.

    Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 14

    She cast a horrified look to Mr. Swift. He stood on the table, his hand at the wound on his neck.
    He grinned down at her. “A flea bite, love. I’ve had worse. I’ll live.”
    Sommersby’s hand shot out, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. His touch was gentle as he traced the red marks there. “What did they do to you?”
    The soft stroke of his lordship’s thumb sent a warm tingle through her. She intended to tell him, but she knew she had to lie, and her lips trembled as she met his astute, penetrating gaze.
    Fool! She could not cry—and she knew how to fight tears. All her years as an unwanted ward and then a dutiful servant had taught her that. How odd that curbing emotion to be a gray and invisible governess had been the perfect education for a vampire huntress.
    She pulled her hand away.
    “There’s a passageway on the other side of the wall and stairs leading underground to a tunnel.”
    The table creaked and groaned, and then Mr. Swift