Lord Gregory Stockton is a powerful and respected businessman embracing
the modern era of the Victorian industrial revolution. He owns a grand
and beautiful manor complete with a repertoire of servants and a
charming attractive young wife. The only thing he lacks and desires is
an heir to the family estate.
Lord Gregory knows he can never produce a
child, for he is a vampire, and his wife and servants know nothing of
his secrets. However, there may be other ways to provide an heir for his
estate. Lord Gregory notices the subtle growing romantic attraction
between his wife and the handsome young stable hand Marcus Scott
resulting in the humans becoming unwitting pawns in a vampire’s game of
lust, love and control.
He knows his wife wants nothing more than to give him a child... But as a vampire he knows that can't be possible... But has come up with the perfect plan to get Sarah pregnant and give her what she really wants...
This was a very interesting story... I don't usually read about vampires but the fact that it was also a Victorian (historical) made me want to read it... I liked the way the author emphasizes each character and how important they are for the story... This book will score a 4/5 in my ratings and look forward to reading more of Catherine Green's books :)
Chapter One
The air in her
bedroom was cool and sent a chill up and down her slender body. She
had grown familiar with the almost icy atmosphere in her husband’s home during
the two years they had been married. Indeed the very mood inside
these rooms seemed to reflect his often-volatile personality. He had
never consciously hurt her, not in any real sense, but there was always that
potential, lying beneath his calm exterior, as though he were a serpent waiting
to strike. She could not complain about him, for Lord Gregory
Stockton was a most attentive husband, and Sarah was extremely lucky to have
secured his affections. He was a very affable gentleman in many
ways, but he confused her.
Sarah found
herself pacing the room like a caged animal, desperate to be released into the
wild. Her pretty blue taffeta day dress was tight, stiff, and
restricting; yet it fit her petite body in all the right places, accentuating
her small bosom and curving gracefully over her hips to drape softly on the
floor. The dress was specially made by the finest designers, along
with the rest of her wardrobe. Her husband had been determined that
his young wife would be the perfect showpiece for his estate and his
reputation. She wore her soft golden curls pinned up in a diamante
hair clip, and would shortly add her matching blue hat ready for her morning
horse ride around the grounds.
Thinking about
her daily exercise brought her mind back to young Marcus Scott, the stable
lad. Well, he wasn’t really a lad at all; he was a young man of
around twenty-five years, older than Sarah herself. She was only
twenty-three, and becoming painfully aware of her lack of child bearing during
her marriage. This fact was further accentuated every time she
visited her mother on the neighbouring estate, and Sarah was increasingly
irritated and upset at the admonitions that it was her own
fault. Lord Stockton certainly did not seem affected by his lack of
heirs. Indeed he never broached the subject, and Sarah knew that it
was nothing to do with his being embarrassed or awkward about
it. Far from it. He was a most attentive lover, and that
was another area where she could not fault her husband.
But it wasn’t
her husband that she was thinking about on this fine spring morning, with the
sun shining through her windows and offering to warm her cool
body. She found herself drifting over to look out at the garden, and
her view of the green shrubs and trees, the flowers that were now starting to
bloom in the warmer weather, and the distant lake upon which the sun sparkled
and which would be the focus for her horse ride with her beloved pet
Penelope. Again her thoughts returned to Marcus, as she pictured him
gently stroking Penelope’s flanks with long, firm strokes of the grooming
brush. He was truly at one with the Stockton horses, and each animal
seemed to respond to him with love and gentility.
Sarah’s heart
lurched in her chest as she spied Marcus walking across the gardens towards the
lake. His dark blonde hair was slightly long and tucked behind his
ears, where it fell in soft waves to his neck, always inviting her to run her
fingers through it. He was already tanned from working outdoors,
despite the fact that it was only April, and his simple white shirt, brown
corduroy trousers, and leather waistcoat, together with the serviceable black
boots he wore, seemed only to accentuate the curves and muscles of his very masculine
physique. Her mind wandered as she imagined what kind of a lover he
could be, so wild and passionate, yet so gentle at the same time…
“Daydreaming
again, my dear?” Said the silky, sensual voice of her husband.
Sarah jumped, a
hand flying to her throat at the deep sound of Gregory’s voice. She
turned, flushed with embarrassment at being caught in such a reverie, and she
smiled politely.
“Oh you
frightened me, Gregory!” she chided, fanning her face with a hand, “I didn’t
hear you enter the room.”
She glanced out
of the window and then looked at her husband.
“Yes,” she
said, “the garden is looking splendid this morning, and I was just about to
collect Penelope for my morning ride. How are you?”
Lord Stockton
was a formidable yet completely attractive figure standing before
her. He wore a classic but very fashionable black suit and white
shirt, with a crimson waistcoat and tie that offered a splash of colour to his
pale skin. His dark eyes roved over her body, and she shivered at
his very direct gaze. He could always elicit such a response in her,
and she anticipated his next move with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.
In two strides
Gregory stood in front of her, but slightly concealed in the shadows beside the
window. He always avoided sunlight, declaring that it was not suitable for
a gentleman of his stature to allow his skin to darken like the working-class
men. His black hair was neatly combed and he was freshly shaven, and
Sarah marvelled as always at his exquisite cheekbones and finely chiselled
jaw. He smelled cleanly of soap and shaving cream, and something
else that was just him. All of it sent her stomach into knots of
excitement and anxiety. She almost reached up to touch his face but
stopped herself, always awkward because of her mother’s very strict training in
etiquette. A lady should never openly fondle a man unless invited,
no matter whether he was her husband or not.
Of course,
Gregory could freely touch his wife whenever he chose, and now he took the
opportunity. He very gently touched her cheek with the back of his
fingers, and she shivered at the icy temperature of his skin. He smiled
and spoke in a gentle voice.
“My dear, I am
sorry,” he said quietly, “I forget how sensitive you are to cool
temperatures. Allow me to warm you.”
He slid his
hands down her sides, smoothing over the rich taffeta, and she stood very
still, enjoying his caress despite her embarrassment at his bold
behaviour. Resting his hands on her hips, Gregory lowered his
handsome youthful face and tenderly kissed her rosebud lips. His
body reacted as it always did to her tenderness. She was delicate,
so beautiful, and always so compliant for him. His teeth itched as
his fangs fought to free themselves, and it took all his self-control not to
bite her white skin, and drink deeply of her sweet blood.
Sarah melted
into his embrace willingly, always enchanted at his affections, and when he
moved away she was gasping slightly with the exertion. Gregory
laughed and regarded her with a naked look of pure adoration.
“My darling
girl, you are so precious,” he said, “I adore the way you react to
my touch. But I detain you from your horse ride. I will
attend to some business in my study and will see you at lunchtime in the
Drawing Room.”
He gently
kissed her forehead and then turned and strode out of the bedroom, so confident
and powerful. Sarah waited for her breathing to calm, and then
turned to the large dressing-table mirror so that she could tidy her hair and
smooth her clothes, fixing her small fashionable hat in place, and adding a
pair of soft white kid gloves. Then she walked slowly and carefully
out of the bedroom and down the sweeping staircase, her heart racing at the
prospect of seeing the young, strong stable lad very soon, and her mind in a whirl
of confusion that she could find two men so equally attractive.
Feeling
refreshed after his visit to the lake on such a beautiful, fragrant morning,
Marcus was whistling softly to himself as he gently groomed Penelope’s glossy
dapple-grey coat. She was such a gentle mare, and very like her
mistress, always eager to please and so beautiful to behold. Ah yes,
young Lady Stockton certainly was a beauty! Marcus had harboured a
desire for her ever since Lord Stockton brought his young bride home two years
previously. And while he knew that nothing could ever come of his
passion, he indulged in fantasies of what might be if the gentle Lady Stockton
should return his feelings. Marcus felt his muscles contract and his
body tighten at the thought of what he could do to her slender body, and of how
her soft skin would feel under his hands and lips. He would be very
gentle with her if given the chance, because she was so timid, and he imagined
she would need some coaxing to enjoy the pleasures he could offer.
“Good morning,
Marcus!” chimed a beautiful feminine voice.
“Marcus jumped
and dropped the grooming brush, embarrassment sending a flush to his cheeks as
he saw the object of his affections framed in the doorway to the
stables.
“Good morning,
my Lady,” he stuttered, “I am so sorry, I didn’t see you arrive.”
He ducked his
head and she laughed gently and replied.
“It is alright
Marcus,” Sarah said, “I could see that you were daydreaming. I trust
it was a pleasant vision?”
It was Marcus’
turn to laugh, but with further embarrassment. If only she
knew!
“Yes my Lady, a
most pleasant daydream,” he replied, “Penelope is all ready for
you. I will just fetch her saddle.”
He picked up
the grooming brush and walked over to the far wall where the leather saddle was
hung along with all of the others. Sarah couldn’t help but admire
his lithe body as he walked purposefully across the room and deftly handled the
heavy leather. He was slender but muscular, and softer somehow than
Lord Gregory, although she couldn’t explain it.
Shaking her
head to try and remove these wickedly immoral thoughts, Lady Stockton entered
the stable and gently stroked Penelope’s nose, whispering in the horse’s ear as
Penelope duly ducked her head to welcome her mistress. Sarah turned
as Marcus approached with the saddle slung over his strong shoulder, and she
stood back as he expertly placed it on the horse’s back and fastened it firmly
in place. Then he led Penelope out into the yard, following Lady
Stockton as she walked carefully over the uneven ground. Sarah
waited patiently while Marcus fetched the wooden stepping stool that she used
to alight the horse, and he once again checked that the saddle was firmly in
place and all the straps were fastened properly.
Then Sarah
stepped forward and held out her hand to him, while gathering her skirts
carefully so that she could climb into the saddle. She was very
careful to regain her composure and remember her place, and Marcus was the
perfect gentleman, holding her tiny hand in his larger work-worn one, all the
while wishing he could remove her soft glove and kiss her
fingers. He watched as she climbed onto Penelope’s back, and it took
all his self-control not to wrap his hands around her tiny waist and swing her
into the saddle himself. Was it just the sunlight heating his body
so suddenly, or was it the wicked thoughts and desires he was harbouring for
his mistress? Marcus knew the answer to that, and he also knew that
he was playing with fire by even imagining such situations and experiences as
were pervading his thoughts at this time.
He was roused
from his reverie when Lady Stockton gently removed her hand and spoke in a
quiet, commanding voice.
“Thank you,
Marcus.” she said, “I will return in one hour if you will be here to take
Penelope from me.”
He stepped back
with difficulty, stooping to pick up the wooden stool, and he nodded, ducking
his head obediently.
“Yes my Lady, I
will be here.” he said, “Enjoy your ride.”
She nodded,
smiled, and gently kicked her heels and clicked her tongue at
Penelope. The horse obediently set off at a gentle trot, out of the
stable yard and down the bridle path towards the lake. Marcus knew
that they would ride alongside the water’s edge and into the wooded area
beyond, taking a circuitous route that would bring them back to the yard on the
other side. He had spent many a morning watching their progress from
various hiding places in the undergrowth, all the while imagining how wonderful
it would be to truly share his body with Lady Sarah. He ruffled a
hand through his hair, let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and
walked back into the cool, dusty familiarity of the stable.
Back at the
large stately home of Stockton Manor, a still figure was watching the exchange
from his shadowy study window. Lord Gregory stood slightly to the
side, hidden from view, but he could clearly see the stable yard from his
vantage point. He was thoughtful, as he could clearly see from their
body language that there was more than meets the eye to the young stable hand
Marcus Scott, and his wife Lady Sarah. Yet he wasn’t jealous, or
angry, or even possessive of his wife. He knew that she would never
disobey him. Her mother had seen to it that she was raised with very
strict ideals and morals, which explained her very docile behaviour. Sarah
had been primed from a young age to be the perfect gentleman’s wife, free from
suspicion and gossip.
Lord Gregory
found himself wondering now whether he might use this situation to his
advantage. He had had his suspicions about the stable hand from the
first day he brought his wife home from the church. Marcus Scott had
a reputation in the local village among the young women. He was a
very handsome and eligible young man, but would not settle with any one woman,
preferring to spend his evenings at the alehouse, fraternising with the
bawdyhouse girls that lived in the rooms above it. Lord Gregory knew
that Marcus’ mother, a cook in Stockton Manor, was forever trying to persuade
her son to settle down and take a wife, worrying about his reputation and his
future. But so far Marcus had resisted, and now Gregory wondered if
it was because of Sarah.
Gregory watched
Sarah and Penelope trot towards the lake, the sunlight helping Sarah’s lustrous
hair glow golden, and Penelope’s flanks were silvered, making a nice contrast
to her mistress sat resplendent and proud in her pretty blue
dress. Gregory felt his body tighten with
anticipation. It had been a week since he had shared a bed with his
wife, and now he needed her desperately. He had been extremely busy
with work, and now was concerned that he may need to spend some time at his
offices in London, to put his affairs in order. What might happen at
Stockton Manor in his absence? Would young Marcus take his chances
with the Lady Sarah, or would he continue to resist, even though it was clearly
becoming increasingly difficult for him?
A wicked idea
alighted in Lord Stockton’s mind. He would never be jealous of his
wife, because she gave him everything he needed, and he was not concerned in
the slightest about society gossip. Indeed he already had a reputation in light
of the decadent parties and social gatherings he would often throw at the
Manor. His circle of friends and acquaintances ranged from
impressive Lords and Sirs, and even to royalty as they travelled from London
and Europe, and during these times of invention and enterprising business, they
were all reaping the rewards of their financial endeavours. Gregory
knew that Sarah never really enjoyed his parties. She felt awkward
and embarrassed around his rich and eccentric friends, especially when they
displayed such raucous behaviour after several glasses of rich red wine of an
evening. But Sarah never complained. She simply smiled
and stayed close to her husband, sheltering in his powerful presence.
Perhaps it was
time he promoted the young stable boy to a position within the
household. Marcus’ father worked as a groundskeeper, and Marcus
still lived with his parents in their home at the gatehouse. Gregory
could bring him into the house, thus throwing him into closer contact with Lady
Sarah, and Marcus could take quarters upstairs with the rest of the
servants. Indeed, Gregory was in need of another personal butler,
and he would relish the opportunity to further educate this young man in the
ways of gentility, and of course, the pleasures that could be gained from
friendships with certain ladies of title and wealth. Yes, this
sounded like the perfect plan. Gregory would never father an heir with
Sarah; he knew that, even though she was unaware of the fact. But he
could tutor young Marcus, and groom him to follow in his footsteps…
“Marcus?” A
shrill female voice called, “Marcus! You are wanted at the house,
quickly! The Master has sent for you personally.”
Marcus
straightened up from where he was shovelling hay at the back of the
stable. While Lady Sarah was out with Penelope, Marcus was tidying
her stall and tending to the other Stockton horses, preparing them for their
daily exercise. He dropped the pitchfork and turned to face one of
the housemaids, young Mary Jones. She was a pretty girl, very
innocent, with brown hair and green eyes. Marcus knew that she was
attracted to him and he had idly wondered whether to take her for his
wife. He knew that would make his parents happy, but something still
held him back. He surveyed Mary now as she stood in the doorway,
slightly breathless, her cheeks pink with exertion as she had hurried from the
house. They must never keep the Master waiting when he ordered
something; everyone knew that.
“Lord Stockton
wants to see me,” he asked curiously, “Why?”
Marcus was
confused and a little nervous, though he would never show it. No, he
was always in control, never overwhelmed. He was a strong, brave
man, and would always take charge of a situation when the need
arose. Mary shrugged her small shoulders.
“I don’t know,”
she gasped, “He just called me to his study and sent me to fetch you straight
away. He said you are to go to his study because he wants to speak
with you. Hurry!”
She turned back
and hurried into the yard as Marcus followed more slowly. He looked
towards the house as they walked up the path.
His heart sank
as he realised that Lord Stockton’s study window overlooked the stable yard at
an angle. Had he seen the exchange with Lady Sarah? Was that
it? Dread suddenly ran through Marcus’ body. The Master
had every right to turn him out without work or references if he suspected any
improper behaviour on the part of the stable lad. What if Lady Sarah
had become uncomfortable and had confided in her husband? Marcus had
no chance against such a powerful man. It wasn’t simply that Lord
Stockton was wealthy. He was a formidable man, and known for his
rare but severe displays of temper. Marcus suppressed a shiver, and
hurried towards the house with Mary, determined not to show his
fear.
The house
seemed ominous and oppressive as Marcus walked around to the kitchens at the
back of the building, and to the servants’ entrance. Mary
disappeared down the corridor to the scullery, leaving Marcus to walk through
the passageway and into the large, airy entrance hall. This was a
shadowy room, with a black and white tiled floor, dark oak panelling on the
walls, and a wide, sweeping staircase with banisters of the same strong, dark
oak. Marcus carefully climbed the stairs, his work boots sounding
dull and clumsy on the polished wooden floors. Lord Stockton’s study
was situated on the first floor, and Marcus knew of its location only because
he had assisted with furniture removals in past years. Other than
that, he never had any business within the house, except to visit his mother in
the kitchens when he needed meals or was carrying game or food supplies.
The dimly lit
corridor was lined with large portraits and paintings, all very austere and
severe. Marcus shivered again but this time at the cool temperature
within the grand house. He much preferred to be out in the stables
and the gardens, with the fresh air and warm sunshine. In here it
felt oppressive, musty, and it further unsettled his racing mind. He
had walked past three solid oak doors that led into various reception rooms,
and now he stood before Lord Stockton’s study door. Marcus took a
deep breath and steeled himself for what was to come, determined not to show
weakness no matter what happened. He straightened his clothes, ran a
hand through his hair in an effort to smarten his appearance, then raised his
right hand and knocked firmly on the door, waiting for the call from his master
to admit him.
Author of adult paranormal romance series The Redcliffe Novels, Catherine Green was raised on books from a young age, and has happy memories of Saturday mornings spent in her small local library, devouring the contents of the shelves. Aside from the Redcliffe novels, Catherine has short stories published in YA anthologies Devils, Demons and Werewolves, and The Mirador Fantasmagoria, and she writes articles for websites including Write and Share UK. Catherine is also a freelance copywriter and copy editor.
Catherine has always been fascinated by the supernatural world, and it feels natural for her to write about vampires, werewolves, witches and other mystical creatures in her stories. She is a shaman in training and a mother of two (plus dog), with an interest in crafts and social history. Catherine practises Law of Attraction and truly believes that everyone can achieve their dreams if they can step beyond the fear of social conformity.
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