Real Vampires Get Lucky

Jerry's eyes darkened as he kissed my palm. "I say there's no better way to start a night than by shagging my mistress." A scandalously long while later I lay in his arms, breathless and boneless again. That man has no end to his repertoire.

"Don't worry about your mother, Jerry. I'm used to her attitude."

"You shouldn't have to get used to it. I'll not allow her to treat you with disrespect."

"Aw, Jerry, I know how she feels." I cupped his chin in my palm. His dark beard was rough, but his lips were hot when he kissed my fingertips. "She is your mother. I've got things to do. Let me drive home. Deal with my guests. You can deal with yours."

"I won't let her run you off. At least stay for a while." Jerry smiled. "I know you're proud of how strong you've become. Ma respects strength."

"Well, Ma will never see me as anything more than a whore." I sat up, still naked and more whore than I liked to admit. Okay, here came that inferiority complex I'd spent centuries trying to rid myself of. But, face it, Jerry's family includes lairds with castles and servants and family crests. My family had been honest working-class folks.

I love the way such class distinctions have blurred in the centuries since we'd met, especially in America, but Mag Campbell is old guard. She's class; I'm classless. And that'll never change for her.

With dread sitting like a stone in my stomach, I pulled on last night's clothes and followed Jerry downstairs. If you want to understand how different my world is from the mortal world, picture this: a mortal mum comes to visit, you'd smell the bacon cooking, the biscuits in the oven, and sit down to a fine meal on the table for what is essentially breakfast. (Hey, I watch TV. Loved Ozzie and Harriet and Leave It To Beaver.)

In the vampire world, especially back in the old days, a fine meal might have been a fresh young lad or lass ready to be drunk from, then sent on his or her way with a bit of coin in hand and nary a memory of having a vein pierced. Sigh. Some of the old ways were pretty fine.

"Finally." Mara sat at the dining-room table with a bottle of Fangtastic, one of the exotic types, in front of her. She'd poured the liquid into a crystal goblet. Mag was obviously sulking but she also had a goblet at her elbow. A pair of silver candlesticks usually sat in the middle of the dining-room table. I'd tell Jerry to have his housekeeper check Mara's room for them while his guest slept during the day.

"Ladies." Jerry held out a chair for me. I did my best to slide into it gracefully, but leather pants just don't slide. Finally I was seated. Jerry came back from the kitchen with two bottles of Fangtastic. He usually nuked his, but hadn't wasted time with it. He did get out two glasses from the china cabinet against the wall though and poured out the drinks before he sat next to me. His mother sniffed and nodded toward me. "This is her doing. Drinking bottled swill when Mara says there is a college full of young people nearby. I fear she is making you less of a man with her peculiarities."

Well, nothing like a direct attack. The Campbells were obviously still old-school. I'd always made my preference for synthetics plain.

You could have struck a match off Jerry's hard jaw. "I don't believe you meant to question my manhood, did you, Mother? Not when you intend to enjoy my hospitality."

Hmm. That set Mag in her place.

"Of course not. I've always been proud of you, Jeremiah. You are a worthy heir to your father." Mag made a show of taking a sip of the offending brew, then pressed a napkin to her pursed lips. "I simply can't survive on this, this disgusting-"

"I take your point, Ma. But I drink what I please. And I've already told you what I expect in regard to Gloriana, have I not? If you wish to go hunting later, I'm sure Mara will be glad to take you. I know you understand how to be discreet. I expect to be staying in Austin for a while yet." He put his hand over mine and smiled into my eyes. I was about to add a kiss to cap off the performance when Mara spoke up.

"You'll come with us, won't you, Jeremiah?" Mara leaned across the table, trying for a cleavage shot.

"I have business to tend to. You can manage without me." Jerry did glance at her, but he didn't seem too mesmerized. We sat in silence for a moment. Mara smiled at Jerry, frowned at me and reached for Mag's hand to give it a comforting pat. Randolph jumped up on the table and leaned against his mistress while giving me a baleful look. I cleared my throat. So I was outnumbered. I could afford to at least pretend to be civil. "So, Mag, are you here for the holidays?"

"Obviously. That and Jeremiah's birthday."

"Oh, right." Jerry's birthday. New Year's Eve. How could I have forgotten? And if you don't think he's a typical Capricorn, you don't know your sun signs. Stubborn. Controlling. Dynamic.

"So you'll be staying for several weeks?" Jerry didn't sound thrilled.

"Is that a problem, Jeremiah? I haven't seen you in three years. And Mara told me you had a nice home here." Mag looked around the spacious dining room. "Which I see you do. Obviously you have room to spare."

"Of course. Stay as long as you like." Jerry picked up my hand. "As long as you understand my wishes are to be considered."

"Naturally. But when you hear my news, perhaps you'll decide your wishes must be re considered."

"News?" Why did the word suddenly sound ominous? I gripped Jerry's fingers. Mara was practically dancing in her seat with excitement. This did not bode well. Mara happy usually meant me not so much. The witch would like nothing better than to have Jerry for herself. Forget the fact that she'd been married to his best friend for centuries.

"Mara has something to tell you."

"This is a family matter. After Gloriana leaves." Mara looked significantly at the door.

"Gloriana is family. Tell us, Mara. Is it something to do with Westwood? Did you track him down?" Jerry leaned forward.

"No. He left Switzerland and vanished." Mara got a hard look.

She and Jerry were both desperate to track down the vampire hunter who'd killed Mara's husband. Yet, despite her genuine grief, Mara seemed to have already set her sights on hubby number two, her husband's best friend.

"I haven't given up on finding him, but when I stopped at Castle Campbell and talked to Mag, I decided the time was right to share this news."

"All right, already." It was all I could do not to jump up and shake it out of her. I hate this kind of "worm it out of me" stuff. "Spill, Mara."

"My daughter, Jeremiah. The daughter Mac and I raised as ours?" Mara got up and walked around the table. She stood behind Mag and put her hand on her shoulder as if the older woman was her support. "Lily's your daughter. Not Mac's. I never told him. Never told anyone. But she's yours."

Oookay. Talk about your charged silences. Jerry sat still as a stone. Mag sniffed, tears running down her cheeks. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from shouting, "Lying bitch!" And Mara glowed, like she was sure this would get her the man she'd always wanted.

"Why should I believe you?" Jerry said it quietly, but he might as well have shouted. Mara gasped and turned pale, and Mag gripped Mara's hand and gave me a dirty look. Hello? What did I have to do with this?

"Do you remember what Lily looks like?" Mag decided to take over the debate. "She's the spit of ye, boy. I saw it years ago, but thought it the dreams of an old woman. Ye never gave me a grandchild. Which I was glad of with the kind of women ye choose to consort with." A nod to me in case Jerry missed the inference.

"Every other child in the county looks like a Campbell, Ma. That means naught. My brothers were lusty lads before they were turned."

Implying that he was not? I knew for a fact he was anything but lacking in the activity department, but once a man's turned vampire his swimmers apparently quit fertilizing eggs. By the time I'd met him in London he'd been vampire for ages. I was bursting with questions but determined to keep my mouth shut. I sipped my Fangtastic to keep said mouth occupied.

"I never lay with any Campbell but you, Jeremiah. I didn't. Only you. When Lily came, I knew for sure who sired her. Remember, Mac was fair. And I have red hair, like my mum."

And green eyes, the lying bitch. Creamy skin. The whole Irish beauty package. The Kilpatrick had brought home an Irish bride to the dismay of the Scottish countryside, but he was his clan's leader so they'd had no choice but to welcome her. They'd produced beautiful children though. God, I hated her. I took another sip.

I wanted Jerry to deny he'd ever slept with Mara but he didn't. Ho. So there had been some action in that department before he'd been turned vampire. Now who was the slut? But of course Mag didn't cast any stones at Mara. Mara's family came from wealth and the aristocracy. Apparently her hurried marriage to Mac hadn't raised any brows and, when a dark-haired babe had popped out, no one dared suggest Mac hadn't sired the babe.

Jerry still just sat there. I could see him thinking and thinking and counting and thinking some more. I didn't say it, but if Jerry was the responsible party, why hadn't Mara's father come after him with a shotgun and a priest? I looked up to find three pairs of eyes-one green, two dark brown-staring holes in me. Damned mind-reading vampires.

"Well? Why didn't the Kilpatrick make Jerry marry you, Mara? Or weren't you . . . sure?" I didn't smirk, but, boy, it was tough to keep my face appropriately solemn.

"You don't understand, Gloriana." Mara sniffled and managed a tear. "Mac and I were promised. Da had a lot of pride-"

"And a parcel of land as I recall that had already been bespoken." Mag shook her head. "Men and their dealings. It's all about the land. Young MacTavish and Jeremiah knew naught of this. Mara was forced to marry to satisfy her father's wishes."

"And I loved Mac." Mara produced a snowy hanky from her abundant cleavage. What century was she living in? "Jeremiah and I .