The Vampire's Mail Order Bride
“No. And I’m off to the movies with Corette.” He waggled his brows. “Now there’s a fine woman.”
“She’s got three girls. That’s a lot of responsibility.”
Stanhill rolled his eyes. “Her daughters are twenty-eight, twenty-nine and thirty. It’s not like Corette’s trying to find them a new daddy.”
“She’s also a witch. Literally. They all are. That doesn’t bother you?” He wasn’t especially fond of witches. Not with the way Alice Bishop plotted so willingly with Didi and her schemes.
“I’m not the one beholden to a witch’s magic to keep me from crisping up in the sun’s light, so no, it doesn’t bother me. Corette is a fine, upstanding citizen. And an amply endowed one at that.”
“I don’t need details.”
Stanhill’s brow furrowed. “Have you and Annabelle had any discussion about who you really are?”
“You mean that I’m a vampire? No.”
Stanhill nodded. “I’d suggest you keep it that way. For now.”
“Why?” He’d actually been waiting for Annabelle to broach the subject just to see how eager she was about the whole thing.
Stanhill waved his hand as he walked away. “I don’t really have time to explain, I’ve got woo to pitch.”
Hugh stifled a growl. Love ruined everything. He pulled out his cell phone and started dialing restaurants as he walked upstairs to his room. By the time he’d shut the door, his first two choices were out unless they wanted to eat either five minutes from now or three hours. Sometimes, being an Ellingham didn’t make that much of a difference.
He sat in the big leather reading chair by the fireplace and dialed the third. They had a cancellation. Or they were making a spot for him. Either way, he took the reservation. It only gave them an hour to get there. Hopefully, that would be enough time for Annabelle to get ready. He got up and walked down the hall to her room to let her know.
He paused at the sound of her voice coming through the closed door.
“Who’s a good boy? Cappy is, that’s who.”
Hugh grinned. She was talking to her cat. There was something endearing about that. He knocked. “Annabelle? Our reservation is in less than an hour. Can you be ready in—”
She opened the door. “I’m ready now.”
She wore the same sundress she’d had on earlier, minus the cardigan, and her hair was twisted up, revealing the exquisite expanse of her bare neck and shoulders. The few tendrils that drifted around her face only added to her loveliness. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just enjoyed the view.
She plucked at the sides of the dress, pulling the lavender cotton away from her body and drawing his attention down to her shapely legs. The hem skimmed her knees. “Unless this isn’t the right thing to wear. I can change.” She glanced back in the room. “Not that I have that many other options.”
“No,” he said. “It’s perfect.” As was she. Not quite ready to break the moment, he gestured at the cat. The beast was sprawled on his back on the floor, legs akimbo, belly exposed. He looked like a fluffy throw rug. “How’s Captain doing?”
She smiled. “He’s having an awful time adjusting. As you can see.”
Hugh laughed. “Does he like catnip? We could stop by the pet store and pick some up for him after dinner.” Where had that come from? He couldn’t remember a time in his life he’d ever even used the word catnip, let alone thought about buying any.
Her eyes lit up, setting them ablaze like emeralds in the sun. “There’s a pet store? That would be awesome!”
“Then it’s a plan. You look lovely, by the way. I should go get ready. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Okay. I’m going to hang out with Captain until then.”
“He doesn’t have to stay cooped up in this room, you know. He can have the run of the house. Unless you think he’s going to shred the drapes and do his business on the rugs.”
She made a face. “Captain would never do that.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“He’s fine in here.”
So much for his attempt at nice. “How about tomorrow afternoon we take him outside and let him romp in the garden a bit? Before we go to the parade.”
She smiled, her demeanor instantly softening. “That would be nice. Although don’t expect too much romping.”
“Got it.” He gave her a nod. “Back as soon as I’m ready.”
Which turned out to be sixteen minutes, twenty-nine seconds. He collected her, then drove them into town, but the only parking spot he could find was three blocks away.
He helped her out of the car without staring too hard at her legs. “We have a little bit of a walk.” He pointed them in the right direction, and they set off.
She kept pace with him, easily matching his long stride. “Where are we eating?”
“The Poisoned Apple. Sort of a pub.”
“You must feel right at home there.”
“I can’t say I ever went to places like that when I lived in England.” Mostly because places like that didn’t exist in 1665. “But their beer selection isn’t bad.”
“The town is even busier than it was last night.”
“Wait until we come back for the parade.” She’d yet to link her arm through his as she’d done before. He couldn’t help but wonder why. He wanted to take her hand, but he wasn’t going to push things.