Upon their late-night arrival at the Winterman estate, which was on the Gulf side of Florida, they went straight to the guesthouse. Tyler had left the door unlocked for them. Her opinion of their host increased when she found he’d already had the cellar rearranged to create a comfortable bedroom for Evan. Niall indicated Evan had visited before, and his preference for underground sleeping quarters was explained away as artistic temperament. Niall’s snicker over that won him a slap on the back of his head before the vampire disappeared into the cellar. Niall was still grinning, though.

She fell asleep in Niall’s arms in the upstairs bed, a situation that was more than acceptable to her, though she wished the bed downstairs could accommodate three. Since she took her injection right after arriving, she was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

The sound of hammering woke her. Rubbing her eyes and looking out the window, Alanna saw it was midmorning. The grounds appeared to be overrun with workers erecting pavilions and people dashing about with flowers, ribbons and other decorations. The guesthouse had a pleasant view, angled to see down the lawn toward a stretch of green and blue marsh, framed by an array of old live oaks.

Donning Niall’s discarded T-shirt, she wandered out into the small sitting room and kitchenette to see what the day would bring. The interior décor had a strong Japanese influence. A rice paper screen divided the kitchen from the sitting area, and a polished dark wood table sat in the center of that room, surrounded with sea green cushions. A jasmine scent told her tea had been prepared and laid out on the table, along with a tray of fruit, bread and cheese options.

There were bay windows on three sides, and the one nearest her showed a small outdoor area intended for the private pleasure of the cottage occupants, complete with rock garden, rake and a stone Buddha serenely overlooking a birdbath and feeder, well-attended by the feathered public. Seeing the birds puffed up on the edge of the bath, preening and chirping, the screened windows open to allow their song, she realized the cottage did not fall short in the least. Did Evan have a gift for this, finding places that one never wanted to leave, except for the chance of finding another enchanted nook even more lovely than the last one?

Well, it might fall short in one regard. She gave Niall’s tall form an amused look. He was on his knees on one of the green cushions, his elbows on the low table as he perused what appeared to be a local paper. She nodded to two wicker chairs with silk green cushions. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in one of those?”

“Wicker makes me summat nervous. It’s like straw when ye sit in it. From what I ken o’ Marguerite, she buys things for their artistic value, not their practicality.” He grimaced. “Cannae imagine why she and Evan get along.”

Thinking about Evan’s well-appointed room, Alanna expected their hosts had kept in mind the needs of all their guests. Going to the larger of the two wicker chairs, she sat in it, then brought her feet up into the chair, standing and shifting her weight. Niall lifted a brow, his lips curving as she jumped down, exposing a great deal of thigh and a flash of more intimate areas. “I think they’re here for you. See?” She gestured at the room’s arrangement. “Japanese decorating emphasizes central placement of key pieces, not putting things along the walls, like the chairs. They’ve been added.”

“Is there anything ye dinnae know, lass?” Giving her a wink, he pushed himself up off the cushion, letting out a grunt at the effort.

“Do you need help getting up?” she asked solicitously.

He gave her a narrow glance. “My knees are strong enough tae give you a sound thrashing over them, young lady.”

When Alanna smiled at him, he levered to his feet. “Come here.” Snagging her arm, he cupped her bottom beneath the T-shirt and took his fill of her mouth. The flood of pleasure left her leaning into him, heart pounding and body even more restless. He touched her face, thumb tracing her mouth. “You’re in a guid mood today, lass.”

“I think it’s the energy.” She waved a hand at the window. “There’s this feeling . . .”

“A ceilidh’s in the air.” He gave her a wink. “A celebration, a visit of guid friends. And ’tis a wedding, which affects you lasses in peculiar ways, no matter you’ve ever been to one or no. And while I’d enjoy taking advantage of some of that energy”—he let her go with a look of regret—“once you’re up, you’re supposed to take all your wedding clothes up to the main house. The bride wants to spend the day with the female guests, and then get ready all together.”

“Oh. Well, surely she meant her friends and—”

“No.” Niall shook his head. “Marguerite was clear. Chloe has peculiar ideas about things, and today is her day. The bride’s slightest whim commands us all.”

Alanna’s brow creased. “Don’t you and Master need . . .”

“Noooo.” Exaggerating the Scottish sound of the vowel, he pushed her toward the bedroom. “I drove through the night. I plan to get in another hour or two o’ sleep. Once my head hits the pillow, all that hammering will nae be an issue. When we wake, we’ll slap on our pretty clothes, and be all set.”

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” she admonished, scowling at being dismissed.

“I’ll eat an onion just for you, muirnín.”

She wasn’t sure why she felt nervous. She’d interacted with many strangers, but they’d always been vampires and servants, with rules she understood. But what if something happened with Stephen . . .

She couldn’t live her life like that. She also wouldn’t shame herself by being timid, too dependent for Evan and Niall to count on her to conduct herself as she should. Putting together the items she would need and donning dark jeans and a tunic top, clothes versatile enough for whatever would be required at the main house, she returned to the main room, finding Niall now comfortably ensconced in the wicker chair.

By the light of the window, she realized he looked tired, not a usual thing for a servant. Then he looked up from his paper. The chair did creak rather alarmingly at his shift in attention.

“You took your injection?”

“Yes. When we arrived. I won’t forget again.” She patted her shoulder bag. “The evening one is in here.”

“You should have called me to help.” His mouth firmed. “I know it hurts.”

She shook her head. “You were already asleep.” Niall, for all that he had the energy of a grizzly when he was awake, slept deep and long.

I plan to get in another hour or two o’ sleep . . .

Her breath caught in her throat as it hit her. How could she have been so caught up in her own circumstances that it had escaped her? She thought of his frequent, impromptu naps on the mountain, how Evan would occasionally glance toward his servant, a pensive look on his face. He knew. She’d rarely been around servants past three hundred, but now she remembered what a visiting servant had said about the one she’d replaced for her Mistress. The old servants sleep more often, and then one day, they just don’t wake up . . .

She moved to him, crawling in his lap and crushing his paper. He began to protest, but she put her mouth on his, her need immediate and sharp enough he closed his arms around her, taking over the kiss, teasing her tongue and lips, stroking her hair, which she’d left loose on her shoulders.

“Fuck, if ye were still in that T-shirt, we could really test this chair.”

She put her forehead against his, holding on to the collar of his shirt. “I think that might be beyond its tolerance. But we could go back into the bedroom . . .” She didn’t care about joining the other women. Her what-ifs until this moment had been focused on her own well-being. But what if she came back and Niall . . .

“Ye tempt me to damnation, lass, or worse. Upsetting the bride on her day. Get on with ye now, and leave an old lad alone. I have to put some salve on my knees.”

He was teasing her, but she didn’t smile. Touching her face, his brown eyes searching her face, he incorrectly guessed what was bothering her. “We’ll be close, muirnín. There’s nae to worry about. I promise.”

She nipped at his bottom lip, daring herself to tease him. “Come to bed.”

“Dinnae order me about, woman.” He gave her a hard kiss, but she locked her arms around his neck, pressing her upper body against him, letting him feel every soft curve.

“Please . . .” she murmured.

He groaned as she shifted so she was straddling him, bringing her heat against his growing arousal. “You’re trying to top, lass,” he muttered.

“No.” She would never do such a thing. She just needed to be with him right now.

He rose, the paper falling to the ground, and hitched her up so her legs were wrapped around him. He narrowly missed hitting the low table, below his field of vision, but Alanna reminded him of it with a whisper that averted their tumble. He chuckled against her lips, and then they were in the bedroom. He had her down on her back and was pulling off her clothes, taking over in a way she welcomed eagerly.

He was right. After a certain point, the hammering all disappeared.

She didn’t want to upset the bride, but she slept with Niall another several hours, her hand on his heart, her head on his shoulder, eyes occasionally fluttering open to look at him. As anticipated, after giving them both pleasure, he’d fallen asleep. Now she noticed, with heart-stopping awareness, how deep that sleep actually was. His heart rate slowed to the point she wanted to keep waking him up. But instead she kept her arms around him, holding him, dozing in and out, inhaling his forest and male smell, until late afternoon came.

It’s time to go, Alanna.

She closed her eyes, her fingers tightening on Niall’s broad, bare shoulder. He’d kicked off the covers, so she was gazing at the beauty of his naked body, the dragon tattoos. Evan’s mark was beneath her fingers as she traced the scales. His thick cock rested on his thigh, and she wished her Master was able to see through her eyes.