My Lord Eternity.

By Debbie Raleigh.

Prologue

"You will keep in mind the importance of your mission? And the fact that all vampires are depending upon you?" the tall, gaunt-faced vampire intoned, his expression one of cold censure.

It was an expression that Lucien Valin was accustomed to enduring. In truth, he tolerated open displeasure with monotonous regularity.

Unlike his brethren, he did not rejoice in devoting his days to hunching over musty books and brooding upon the philosophy of the elders. He did not desire to debate the nature of life. What did it matter to know of life if one was not allowed to truly enjoy it to its fullest?

It was that delight that had led him into trouble more than once. And even had him hauled before the Great Council on one memorable occasion.

Vampires could be humorless creatures when their tedious peace was disturbed, he had been forced to acknowledge. Especially when he had briefly transformed the library into a sultan's harem. The Great Council had taken a very dim view of his prank.

Now Lucien attempted to appear suitably subdued as he gave a low bow. "I understand the importance, Valkier," he murmured.

"The Veil must not be allowed to fall," the elder vampire continued in his dire tones. "'Tis failure enough that Tristan, Amadeus, and Drake managed to enter the world of humans in their determination to steal the Medallion. If they gain command of the ancient artifact, the power they will be able to summon could do untold damage."

Lucien gave a nod, his expression becoming uncharacteristically somber.

He had been deeply shocked when he had been called to the Great Council and told of the treacherous vampires who plotted to put an end to the Veil.

It had been two centuries since vampires had walked among mortals. In her infinite wisdom, the Great Nefri, leader of all vampires, had used the Medallion to create a Veil that had protected vampires from the world of men, and from the curse of blood l.u.s.t that had plagued them with the savage desire for human blood. A desire that made them vulnerable to the light of day.

For two centuries they had lived in peace.

A peace threatened by the devious traitors.

"I will not fail."

"You cannot." A surprising hint of frustration tightened the stern features. "Unfortunately our task has been made more difficult by Nefri's choice to divide the Medallion and give it into the hands of mortal females. You must protect the female as well as search for the vampires who hunt her."

Lucien was rather curious at Valkier's note of censure. The Great Nefri had taken care to bind the pieces of the Medallion to the very souls of the mortal maidens. The traitors could not steal or force the women to give over their gift, and not even death could undo the binding. The only means of acquiring the Medallion was if it were freely given. And as an added precaution Nefri had requested three vampires be sent to keep guard of the Medallion, even if it meant death to the traitors.

Far more wise than hoping to hide the powerful artifact or facing the renegades on her own, to his mind.

"It will be my pleasure to protect the maiden," he retorted smoothly.

The cold disdain returned to the gaunt countenance. "That I do not doubt. You possess a lamentable fondness for mortals, especially female mortals."

Lucien shrugged. "They are fascinating creatures."

"They are weak, impulsive, and violent, at best. It is only because they breed like maggots that they have managed to survive at all."

Lucien was not surprised by the scathing contempt. As Immortals, it was only to be expected that vampires would look down in disdain at the lesser mortals. Few shared his own delight in their burning pa.s.sions and l.u.s.t for life. Most of his brethren chose to ignore their existence.

Of course there were a handful, such as the renegades, who believed mortals were no more than chattel to satisfy the hunger of vampires.

Unwilling to enter into a futile argument with the powerful elder, Lucien offered a bow.

"I should be on my way. Gideon and Sebastian will be awaiting me."

"You have the dagger?"

Lucien reluctantly nodded.

The powerful blade had been blessed with a magic that would destroy a vampire. He dearly hoped he would have no use for the weapon. The mere thought of destroying one of his brothers was enough to make him shudder in horror.

"I am prepared," he murmured.

"I sincerely hope that you are, Lucien," Valkier retorted. "If it had been the choice of the Great Council, you would not be leaving the Veil at all. You are boastful, irresponsible, and utterly lacking the ability to comprehend the dire threat that we face. It was I alone who overruled the other Council members. I, perhaps foolishly, believe your unseemly fascination with the humans will be an a.s.set in your task. I can only hope that you do not fail my trust too miserably."

Lucien could not prevent the urge to offer a mocking bow. "Your confidence is overwhelming as always. I can only attempt to live up to your high expectations."

"Go."

One.

Although Miss Jocelyn Kingly had never before encountered the devil, she was fairly certain he was currently sitting in her front parlor.

It was not so much his appearance that made her think of the Lord of the Netherworld, she grudgingly conceded.

Indeed, he might have been a beloved angel with his long, tawny curls that framed a lean countenance and brushed his wide shoulders. His eyes were a pure, shimmering gold with long black lashes that would make any woman gnash her teeth in envy. His features were carved with a delicate male beauty.

But there was nothing angelic in the decided glint of wicked humor in those magnificent eyes and sensuous cut of those full lips.

And, of course, the indecent charm of those deep dimples.

She should have sent him on his way the moment he arrived upon her doorstep. Not even for a moment should she be considering the notion of allowing such a disturbing gentleman into her home.

She would have to be mad.

When she had first been struck with the notion of renting her attics, it had been with the prospect of discovering a quiet, comfortable tenant. Someone who would not disturb the peace of her household.

Unfortunately there were few such tenants who desired to live in a neighborhood that hovered on the edge of the stews. The local pickpockets and prost.i.tutes did not possess the funds to pay the rent, even if she were to consider allowing them into her home. And the few gentlemen who possessed businesses in the area already owned their own property, usually far from St. Giles.

Which left Lucien Valin.

A shiver raced down her spine.

If only she were not in such desperate need of money.

If only it were not a full two months until her quarterly allowance.

If only...

Her lips twitched with wry humor. She could devote the next fortnight to listing the "if-onlys"

in her life. Now was not the time for such futile longings.

She better than anyone understood that the mistakes of the past could not be altered. One could only ensure that they were not repeated.

Unconsciously straightening her spine Jocelyn forced herself to meet that piercing golden gaze. It came as no surprise to discover her visitor's lips were twitching as if he were amused by her obvious hesitation.

"So, Miss Kingly, was the newspaper in error?" he prodded in that husky, faintly accented voice. "Do you have rooms to let or not?"

The voice of a devil. Jocelyn sucked in a steadying breath. Devil or not, he was the only potential tenant who offered the cold, hard coin she so desperately needed.

There had to be something said for that. Unfortunately.

"There are rooms," she agreed in cautious tones. "However, I feel it inc.u.mbent to warn you that they are located in the garret and are quite cramped. I am uncertain that a gentleman of your large proportions would find them at all comfortable."

His slender, powerful hands moved to steeple beneath his chin, the golden eyes shimmering in the slanting morning sunlight.

"Do not fear, I am tall, but thankfully, quite intelligent. I need hit my head upon the rafters on only a handful of occasions to recall to duck."

"There is also our unfortunate proximity to the slaughterhouses. The stench can be unbearable on some days."

"I have discovered that there are few places in London that are not plagued with one unpleasant odor or another. Not even Mayfair is unaffected."

Jocelyn maintained her calm demeanor with an effort. She never allowed herself to be ruffled.

She had learned through painful experience that to lose control was a certain invitation to disaster.

"Unlike Mayfair, however, this neighborhood can be quite dangerous as well."

His dimples suddenly flashed. "Surely, my dear, you do not suppose Mayfair to be without its dangers? Just imagine . . . marriage-mad mamas, overdressed fops fragrant with the stench of rose-water, and a prince who insists upon keeping his chambers as smothering hot as the netherworld. It is enough to terrify the stoutest of hearts." He lifted one broad shoulder. "I should be able to hold my own against a handful of thieves and street urchins."

There was no reasonable argument to refute his confident words. Although he cloaked himself in a lazy charm, there was no mistaking the fluid power of his male form or the hint of ruthless will that was etched upon the lean features.

Only a fool would underestimate the danger of Mr. Lucien Valin. And Jocelyn was no fool.

"If you say," she reluctantly conceded. "Is there anything else?"

"There are my rules, of course," she swiftly countered, not at all surprised when his lips curled in open amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Of course."

"This is not a lodging house. I live very quietly. I will not countenance loud gatherings or drunken carousing."

A tawny brow flicked upward. "I am allowed no callers?"

"Only if they are discreet."

For some reason her cool response only deepened his amus.e.m.e.nt. "Ah."

That unwelcome shiver once again inched down her spine, and Jocelyn discovered herself battling back the words to order this Mr. Valin from her house.

She did not have the luxury of turning away a perfectly suitable tenant just because of some vague fear.

"And the arrangement will be of a temporary nature," she instead retorted in an effort to rea.s.sure her faltering nerve. "No longer than two months."

"That suits me well enough."

It appeared everything suited the devil.

Jocelyn narrowed her gaze. "I also must insist that you respect my privacy. You are welcome to eat in the kitchen with Meg, but the remainder of the house is not to be entered."

There was a brief pause as he studied her carefully bland countenance. Then he gave a vague nod of his head.

"As you wish. Is that all?"

It was, of course.

She was charging him an outrageous sum of money for cramped rooms and meals he would be forced to eat in the servants' quarters.

She had also made impossible rules that would annoy the most even-tempered of gentlemen.

The mere fact that he had so readily agreed made her even more suspicious.

"Why are you here?" she demanded in abrupt tones.

His hands lowered as he regarded her with a bemused smile.

"I beg your pardon?"

Jocelyn deliberately allowed her gaze to drop to the deep burgundy coat cut by an obvious expert and white waistcoat st.i.tched with silver thread. Her gaze continued over the hard, muscular thrust of his legs to linger upon the glossy Hessians that cost more than many families could earn in a year.

At last she raised her head to discover him regarding her in a curious fashion. "It is obvious that you are a gentleman of means, Mr. Valin. Why would you desire to take inferior rooms in a neighborhood most consider fit only for cutthroats and wh.o.r.es?"

"Does it truly matter what my reason?" he demanded softly.

"I will not harbor a criminal."

He gave a sudden chuckle. "I a.s.sure you that I am not hiding from the gallows."