over. He had come home.
'Oh Clair, you are truly a miracle in my life. Are you all right?' he questioned anxiously. 'I didn't mean to be so rough. I meant to wine and dine you, to kiss every delicious inch of your body. It was your first time and I should have been more circumspect, more a gentleman.'
Clair laughed, the musical sound filling his heart. 'I am living up to my family name. My first time making love and it's in a cemetery. You do know how to spoil a girl,' she teased, kissing him lightly on the lips. 'I think I rather like you wild and untamed,' she decided after a moment. She brushed a dark, damp curl off his forehead. 'No wonder no one tells us young ladies about this… this incredible, mind-altering, marvelous, earthshaking experience. If they did, we would all become wanton hussies with swollen bellies nine months out of every year,' she finished enthusiastically.
Ian threw back his head and laughed a laugh of pure joy. He was free at last from the tribulations of his youth. He felt young for the first time since being a cub of fourteen, before his father's death and his mother's overshadowing grief, before the winds of time had blown his hopes into the dark abyss. 'Marry me,' he said.
Clair's head shot off his chest. 'What?'
'You heard me. I want you to marry me. I would get down on my knees and ask, but it appears I'm already there,' he remarked drolly as he twitched his legs, which were entwined with Clair's.
She shook her head, her palm against his cheek. 'Ian, you don't have to do the honorable thing. I am almost twenty-five years old. I am not some young innocent.'
'You were a virgin, Clair.' He frowned. This was not going at all as he'd planned. She was supposed to be excited. She was supposed to be kissing his face in happiness, squealing with delight. She was supposed to be discussing her wedding dress.
'I know this sounds silly, but I am still not as innocent as some innocents truly are. I am a—'
Before she could finish, Ian interrupted her, impatience clear in his tone. He knew what he wanted. He wanted
'I know, I know. A Frankenstein. But I want to make you a Huntsley. Besides, together we are the perfect example of a covalent bond.'
'Oh, Ian. You've been boning up on your science.' Clair sighed admiringly.
He chuckled. He'd been boning up on something, all right. 'Be my baroness. The Baroness Huntsley.'
'But that is the point, Ian. I am a Frankenstein. I will be published. I will continue my research. I will win the prestigious Scientific Discovery of the Decade Award. And after that I will still be involved with my scientific research. How will you feel about me running all over God's green earth, chasing vampires and werewolves?' She asked as she must, her heart breaking. Ian would want her to give up her adventures; she just knew it.
'I wouldn't care for it too much. I would rather you run around God's green earth after our children. That will keep you busy and fulfilled,' he added pompously.
She raised an eyebrow. 'Yes. I want your children. Yes, being a mother and wife will keep me fulfilled. But I won't give up my scientific ambitions. I just won't, Ian. Not for all the tea in China.'
'Or for being a baroness, either, I guess,' he replied, stung. 'I love you, Clair. We can work something out. Besides, you could already be pregnant.' He put a hand possessively on her stomach. How he hoped she was. The thought of Clair carrying his child, suckling his child, stirred him deeply. He would teach his child the mysteries of living and giving. At such a dream, his heart swelled with love and a deep sense of abiding fulfillment. His John Thomas, who'd always had a head of its own, was once again ready and rearing to go.
Ian deliberately moved his hand to Clair's chest and began taking off her gown, which was crumpled around her waist. He hadn't gotten to important parts in his first round of lovemaking, such as the big one—nudity. Slipping the gown off her, he stared down in rapt fascination at the luscious bounty beneath him. Here was a feast fit for a king.
'If I am pregnant and that is a big
'Marry me, Clair,' Ian coaxed again as he began to nibble and suck on her breasts. He was getting distracted, and that wasn't good. Clair had to marry him, in spite of her indomitable spirit, which was apparently bred into the Frankenstein genes, and the sooner the better as far as he was concerned. There was no help for it. He would have to develop another bloody plan! For a military genius, his strategies were less than a stellar success around Clair. He was already on the third letter in the alphabet.
'Let's discuss it later, when we have all our clothes on,' she said. Her body was heating up too fast. She squirmed.
'No. Now!' he commanded, reveling in the lush softness of plump, white breasts.
She moaned. He laughed.
Two can play at this game, Clair mused, taking his hot, hard arousal in her hand. He felt like smooth silk, his tip wet and glistening. She could barely close her fingers around it.
'Are all men this large? I know Frederick is enormous, but then Uncle Victor created him. Are their bollocks all this heavy?' Her curiosity was once again running amok.
Ian shifted slightly, beating his head against the ground in amused mortification. 'Clair, my Clair, what am I to do with you?'
She grinned mischievously. 'You could do that thrusting thing again with your hips. It drives me wild.'
The look he gave her burned Clair to cinders. 'It will be my pleasure,' he replied. Then he was as good as his word. They both almost expired from it.
The Girl Who Cried Wolf
'Now that's what I'd call the house of a werewolf,' Clair stated with conviction, her head bobbing outside the carriage window. She was scrutinizing Wolverton Manor, an imposing and sinister-looking structure of granite four stories in the air, the accumulation of several centuries' worth of architecture, gothic being predominate. Clair knew with one look that she had found the vampires' and werewolves' nefarious nest.
Ian sighed, glancing out the window at the massive structure high upon a grassy hill. He estimated they were still a good two miles away. He had tried to talk Clair out of the earl's house party, but to no avail. Since she refused to stay home, he'd refused to stay home. He couldn't just leave her to the wolves—or to the vampires, as the case might be. And no way was he letting his beloved travel to the earl's countryseat alone. Not with Asher on the prowl.
'Really, dear?' Lady Mary asked. She shifted on the soft leather seat and poked her head out the window. 'How can you tell? It looks like a dozen other estates I have seen.'
'I just can,' Clair answered stubbornly. 'This is the residence of the werewolf and his cohorts. This is the nest where he and his vampire cronies meet for plotting, blood-sharing, and orgies.'
Ian rolled his eyes.
'My hypothesis won't be wrong this time,' she snapped. Her pride and prejudice against the earl aside, all indicated Neil Asher was not what he seemed. Her sense and sensibilities all screamed that the earl was a supernatural creature. 'It's even named Wolverton Hall. How much more blatant can one be?'
'Yes, dear,' Lady Mary affirmed, her tone indicating her doubt. 'But I do wonder…' she said, then stopped. Nothing riled her niece more than to have her theories debated.
'Yes?' Clair asked.
'Well, the Earl of Porkerston is not a pig.'
Clair moaned. 'Not pigs again.' She would never, if she lived to a thousand, live that incident down.
'Calm down, Clair,' Lady Mary cajoled, patting her niece's hand. 'I just don't want you counting your werewolves before they're hatched, or whatever it is they do.'
Ian gave a quiet snicker, and Clair shot him a cool glance then looked again at him in spite of herself. She couldn't help noticing his long shapely legs stretched out before him. The material of his doeskin breeches fit to perfection. Drat! She felt a delicious ache low in her belly.
Noticing Clair noticing him, Ian gave an almost imperceptible smile. It barely curved his mouth but caused
