Free Bite Me, Your Grace by Brooklyn Ann Page B

lips when he felt the soothing sensation of a cold cloth bathing his forehead. He opened his eyes, and his blurred vision took in the sight of the figure before him. The cropped hair and masculine attire led him at first to believe that he was being tended by a young man. But the lilting voice and smooth luminous skin gave him pause. Was he being nursed by one of the famed castrati singers of his home country? The notion was dashed as he felt a pair of soft breasts pressing against his shoulder.
    â€œJohn, you are awake.” Her voice was cultured and gentle as an angel’s.
    â€œWhere am I?” he croaked, forcing his heavy eyes to focus. “How long have I been asleep?”
    She handed him a cup of water and he drank greedily. “I found you unconscious in the alley behind your usual club three nights ago.” Her full lips pouted as she ran a gentle hand through his hair. “I brought you to my home and have been caring for you since. I think you were sick from drink.”
    He could see her clearly now. He knew this woman. How could he ever have mistaken her for a male? And how could he have forgotten her lovely voice? Her exquisite face had stayed in his memory for all time. Lord Byron and his friends had mocked him when he spent weeks searching the Swiss countryside for her. But if Byron had seen her, he would have stilled his wagging tongue.
    The rich fabric of her waistcoat and cravat looked coarse against the silken glow of her face and hands. Her dark eyes were as large as a doe’s, fringed with lashes impossibly long and thick and framed with thin black brows. The lady’s fine-boned face was as delicate as porcelain, with ruby lips that made him groan with desire for a taste. John reached up and touched them with his finger to make sure she was real.
    Excitement warred with dizziness. “It is you! Rosetta, my darling, what are you doing in England? I searched for you for months after we met. I set your leg. Do you remember?”
    She nodded, smiling. “I will never forget your kindness. My heart is filled with joy that you remember me.”
    â€œBut how did you find me?” he asked, frowning as he took in his surroundings. “And why is this chamber without windows?”
    She ran a hand through his curls. “First you must eat while I heat water for your bath. I’ve brought you clean clothing. When you are comfortable, I will tell all.”
    Once he was clean and his hunger was sated, John was afraid he’d have to fight the drowsy languor. But when Rosetta opened her mouth to reveal pearly white fangs as she told her story, he was stunned. Despite the fantastical creations that spilled from his pen, he was a realist. A physician and scientist had no room for fantasy in his beliefs. He never imagined that the creatures of myth that fired his imagination and populated his stories could possibly be real.
    But another thing stirred him more than her amazing story. Rosetta loved him. The fact was clear with every word she spoke, and the way her eyes glowed with adoration whenever they rested upon him. The revelation struck a chord within him that he’d long since tried to kill. Though he had often loved, no one had ever truly loved him in return. Oh, George Gordon, Lord Byron, had claimed to, but it wasn’t until John’s heart was lost to the poet that he learned that Byron loved a new person every week.
    Indeed, Lord Byron had been the man he sought to represent as the vampire, Lord Ruthven, not the Duke of Burnrath, who apparently was the Vampire Lord of London! The situation would be quite ridiculous if his life were not in such grave danger.
    He stood up and walked across the carpeted floor toward Rosetta. Ah, his beautiful savior Rosetta! Already, he was losing his heart to her dark passion more than he had to her tender beauty four years ago. “I see that my thanks are necessary.”
    â€œNot at all, John, I would save you all over