Page 83 of Vampire's Breath

“And what about their wives?” I asked.

“There was only one Marchioness. And that was Lady Aine.” He gestured toward a painting on the right, nearest the front door, guiding me to it. A woman stood against a backdrop of rolling waves, her dark hair caught in the wind, her striking blue eyes gazing into the distance. My breath caught in my throat. They looked similar to Lorcan’s eyes—the same color as the rolling waves behind her.

Aodh shifted beside me, his hand gentle yet firm on my arm, leading me across the room to the other wall. “And this is Lord Kieran. The first Marquess of Dún Na Farraige.”

The man in the portrait stood regally in a blood-red room, dark furniture around him, his round face stern and commanding.

Aodh caught my eye and turned toward the solarium. “Their sons are each here, too.” He pointed at the paintings in turn. “Cormac. Lorcan. Aiden. And Conall.”

I nodded. But something felt off. According to Cormac, the Marquess was given the title in the 1100s, yet Lady Isobel knew Lord Lorcan in 1810. There had to be over five? I moved toward the portrait that hung between the first two archways on thesame wall as Aine; the one Aodh had said was Lorcan. My feet moved as though I were pushing them through quicksand. My voice was tight as I spoke. “Weren’t there more?”

Aodh followed beside me as I stood in front of the painting of Lord Lorcan. My heart fluttered as I traced the features—features I knew. But it wasn’t possible.

I turned to Aodh. “Surely… surely, there were more.” My heart froze in my chest. Reality took shape around me.

The woman who had attacked me on the beach. Her fangs. The portrait of Lorcan. Those eyes that had looked into mine; his face had not changed.

Aodh’s voice sounded out of place, almost jovial. “Are you okay, pet? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

My breath hitched as I stared at the painting, ignoring the man beside me, his voice distant. My stomach dropped with a sickening clench. It couldn’t be true. But I already knew it was—my God. I was staring at a portrait of Lorcan—my Lorcan. Lady Isobel’s Lorcan.

Aodh cleared his throat. “A lot of planning would have gone into a party to introduce the Baroness of Blackcairn. If it was done here, there may still be records—guest books, invitations. Surely, that’s something you’d be interested in. Should we check the archives?”

My heart pounded, but I forced my voice to stay stable, my throat dry. “Sure.”

The world spun around me as I shuffled after Aodh. He led me through the solarium and down a set of stairs as I focused on my footing. I barely glimpsed the kitchen at the bottom of the steps before we went through a door and followed a long hallway. Near the end, he opened a large wooden door, flipping a switch on the wall as he stepped in, a warm light flooding the space.

Shelves lined the walls, filled with books older than I could imagine. The temperature in the room was just right—too right. The air wasn’t stale, not musty, but controlled as if the room had been preserved. My spine tingled as I stepped forward into the windowless space.

“If we’re going to find anything about that party, it will be in here.” Aodh followed me into the room, his hand reaching out and touching my hip, freezing me in place.

I whirled around to face him, regaining my senses. “I… I think I just want to head back,” I said, my voice shaking.

He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Only curiosity, as if he were watching a fascinating insect that had landed in his palm. “But why, pet? Is there something about me? Something you don’t trust?”

My heart thundered behind my rib cage, heat rising behind it. “I was just attacked, attacked by a woman with fangs. You appeared out of nowhere. I saw you. You were on the overlook—much too far away to have reached us in the time that you did. And she wanted to kill me.”

The tears I had been holding back finally spilled over. Shock gave way to anger.

The words almost stuck in my throat, choking me. “And now you’re here, telling me Cormac wants you to give me information. There is a portrait of Lorcan upstairs that could have been painted a month ago, and there isn’t anything creepyat allabout a basement room with no exit except the one you are standing in front of.”

His lips twitched, forming a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“And I’m just supposed to be okay with—” My breath caught. My stomach twisted.

Aodh’s voice held an edge to it, like he was holding back a laugh, like none of this was unexpected. “Vampires.”

The pieces of my world clicked into place, one jagged edge at a time. Lady Isobel had been right—vampires existed—and she had attacked Ashdowne with a wooden knife because she had known without a doubt. She had known he was a vampire.

And Lorcan O’Cillian—the Marquess—the only one who had never abandoned her. The only one who had believed her story.

I struggled to breathe as I took a step away from Aodh. “They’re all vampires, aren’t they?”

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Yes, pet. They are. Every last O’Cillian you know of.” His expression darkened with something that made my skin crawl. “Well—except for Aine.” The way he said it—offhand, dismissive—made my stomach twist.

My breath hitched. “My God. And you.”

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