In the Heat of the Bite Read Online Free PDF Page A

and gettin’ involved are two very different things,” Cait said primly. “Ginny will be at Lady Pickering’s ball. And so, I assume, will ye also.”
    “I suppose that means we’ll be attending as well?” the Lycan asked.
    “Oh, I wouldna miss the events of the ball for anythin’ in the world, Dash,” Cait said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Rhiannon, do ye remember the time ye blew my skirts up in front of all the lads at that picnic?”
    Did she ever. Cait had been fifteen years old and being a brat of the worst sort. Rhiannon had taken it upon herself to put her friend in her place. Cait had been mortified. And had never forgiven Rhi.
    “Revenge is sweet, Rhiannon dear. So, so sweet.” Cait’s tinkling laughter sent shivers skittering across Rhi’s skin.
    What
could
Cait have possibly seen? Letting Ginny attend one ball without her would be all right, wouldn’t it? Certainly Aunt Greer couldn’t get Ginny attached to some smelly, old Sassenach in one night, could she? “I doona believe I brought anythin’ appropriate for a London ball.”
    “Nonsense.” Cait grinned. “I have dressin’ rooms full of gowns of every color imaginable. Ye’ll look stunnin’, and I canna wait ta see the look on yer aunt’s face.”
    There was no getting around this infernal ball. “Every color imaginable?” Rhi echoed on a sigh. And the gowns were certain to be the height of fashion, every last one of them, if she knew Cait.
    Eynsford winked at Rhi. “I do love to spoil her.”
    Rhi suppressed a snort. Every man who had ever met Cait loved to spoil her. How did some women get so fortunate?
    “Oh, Dash,” Cait tapped her husband on the arm to get his full attention, “ye must ask yer brothers ta join us.”
    So that whatever disaster awaited Rhi could be witnessed by all and sundry.
    The marquess laughed. “I hardly think they would attend a marriage-mart ball at
my
request, lass. You are the one who has them all wrapped around your pretty little finger. They could be a little less wrapped, by the way.”
    Cait leaned up and kissed his cheek. “What fun would there be in that?”

Three
     
    In all honesty, Matthew couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a headache. The details of events became a little hazy after reaching one’s 650th year on earth. If he remembered correctly, however, the last one had happened somewhere around 1190 in the Holy Land, back when he was still human. But serving as a mentor to the newly reborn Alec MacQuarrie had brought about a thumping within his skull that was even louder than Miss Sinclair’s storm.
    Matthew rubbed his temple, hoping to assuage the bloody pain, as he looked at Charlotte, the last Cyprian he’d seen his charge with. She was now lounging across the bed as though she hadn’t a care in the world. “What do you mean he went out?”
    The blond tart shrugged, and one strap of her sheer chemise slipped down her shoulder. She made no move to straighten her clothing and only shot him a vague look of annoyance. “He said something about a fireworks display.”
    New Spring Gardens… er… Vauxhall Gardens. New Spring Gardens was the original name. What the devil was wrong with him? It had been called Vauxhall much longer than New Spring Gardens, certainly long enough that he should remember the damn name. Headaches apparently made his memory faulty. Matthew glowered at Charlotte, not that MacQuarrie’s inept decision to leave the club was her fault. Still, there was no one else to glower at, so Charlotte would have to do.
    “How long has he been gone?” Matthew threw the question over his shoulder as he started for the corridor. If he was fortunate, he could reach the reborn Scot before he could create any havoc.
    “I’m not really sure, sir. How long were you gone? He left fairly quickly after that.”
    Damn it all to hell.
    Matthew barreled out
Brysi’s
ornate doors and quickly hailed a hack. He could have run much quicker than he could ride,