The Vampire’s Mail Order Bride Read Online Free Page B

feline boredom and shifted to cover his face with his paw.
    “Thanks for chiming in.” She made a U-turn at the next light just to shut her navigation up. She followed the prompts, winding through the back roads (who knew Georgia had hills? Mountains? Whatever.) until she came to a community called Ravenswood.
    She turned into the development as another of the Summer Spooktacular trolleys was pulling out. Apparently, this was part of a tour.
    After the town, nothing should surprise her, but the neighborhood looked like it had been designed by a Hollywood set maker. Most of the houses, all Gothic or Victorian, resembled the precursors to some really good haunted mansions.
    The homes were intricate, immaculate and beautiful. Sculpted topiaries ala Edward Scissorhands dotted the manicured yards.
    “This is like Stepford meets the Addams family. Who built this place? Tim Burton?” Cappy had no response. She followed Poe Avenue to Hitchcock Lane and made the turn.
    A stand of tightly spiraled evergreens blocked her view for a second as she pulled into the long drive of 19 Hitchcock Lane. Then she saw the house. Estate. Mansion. Whatever. It was too big and too grand and too ivy-covered to be just a house . Everything about it, from the toffee-brown brick, vanilla-white columns and trimmings to the gorgeous arched windows and slate roof, was fairy tale perfection.
    “Wow,” she whispered.
    Captain Underpants snored.
    His lack of enthusiasm didn’t ruin the moment. Then she realized that she hadn’t showered in almost twenty-four hours, meaning she still smelled like garlic (one of the unfortunate side effects of working at Rastinelli’s), and that the man who owned a house like this might not even let her bring her Captain inside. Well, it wasn’t like she was actually here to marry him, was it? So who cared if he thought she was gross? But if he was some weird anti-cat guy, she’d make a big fuss and tell him the agency had promised pets were okay.
    Although she would like to stay long enough for things in Brooklyn to cool off. If cooling off was actually a possibility.
    She parked beneath one of the massive shade trees that bordered the property, then flipped down the mirror on the visor and took a look. “Yikes.”
    She finger-combed the waves around her face into submission, pinched her cheeks for color, wiped off some of yesterday’s mascara that had melted under her eyes and sighed. It was what it was.
    She looked at her still sleeping companion, who was clearly on the verge of caring. “If he won’t let you in, we’re bugging out. Promise.” She kissed Captain on his silky head. “Be right back.” No point in waking him if they weren’t staying.
    She got out of the car and trudged up to the house, straightening as she reminded herself she was Annabelle Givens, resident of upstate New York, not Delaney James, Brooklyn resident on the run from the mob.
    As she walked up the steps to the impressive wraparound porch, the door opened and a man stepped out. “Hallo, miss. Can I help you?”
    Okay, so Annabelle’s perfect match was a little older than Delaney had imagined. He was silver fox handsome in the way of Mark Harmon or Pierce Brosnan, though, so it wasn’t going to be a hardship to spend some time with him. Especially not with that swoony British accent.
    “Hi.” She waved nervously. “I’m, um, Annabelle Givens. Eternamate sent me.” Out loud the words sounded so blatantly false she expected him to call her a liar-pants and shoo her from the property.
    “Ah, yes, Miss Givens. We weren’t expecting you until next week.”
    Okay, no liar-pants. “Next week? I’m so sorry, I’m horrible with dates. I must have misread the paperwork.” She rummaged in her bag like she was looking for it, which she wasn’t, hoping he’d stop her.
    He did. “It’s not a problem, miss. We are delighted to have you.”
    She raised her brows. “We?” What exactly had she gotten herself into?
    “Master