"Then I shall wish you a good night," she retorted.

His hands briefly tightened upon her fingers, desperately wanting to prolong this moment.

Only the shadows lingering in her dark eyes kept him from pulling her into his arms and covering her lips with his own.

She was far too vulnerable this evening. He would not take advantage while she was defenseless.

"Sweet dreams, my dove," he murmured, reaching down to brush his mouth over her troubled brow before stepping back to allow her to leave.

She hesitated only a moment before she was moving through the foyer and up the stairs. He stood silently until he was certain she was in her chambers, then he turned to make his way down the hall.

He knew precisely what he would discover in the small kitchen at the back of the house.

Stepping into the cramped room, his gaze swiftly fell upon the large, dour -faced woman seated at the table with a heavy frying pan in her hands.

With his lips twitching in amus.e.m.e.nt, Lucien strolled to stand beside the table. "Ah, Meg. I thought I would find you still awake."

The woman regarded him with an aggressive frown that would have frightened a hapless thief into an early grave.

"I won't be having any more of them villains bothering Miss Jocelyn."

"She is safely in her chambers," he rea.s.sured the loyal servant.

"I warned her there would be nothing but trouble living in such a place," Meg muttered in disgust. "Perhaps now she will listen to reason."

Lucien grimaced. "I would not place too much hope in such an occurrence. She is devoted to her work among the poor."

Meg gave a click of her tongue. "Devoted enough to end up with her throat slit, no doubt."

He stiffened. "Oh, no. I will not allow that to happen," he retorted in fierce tones.

The servant regarded him with a disapproving glance. "And how will you protect her when you are here for only a few weeks? Soon you will be back among your fancy friends and Miss Jocelyn will be alone."

"I will be here for as long as Jocelyn needs me."

He met the distrustful gaze squarely, his features as hard as granite. "I will not allow her to be harmed."

"Then you are not like most gentlemen of society," Meg said with a sniff.

Lucien barely swallowed a sudden laugh. He wondered what the older woman would think if he a.s.sured her just how different he truly was. Obviously her opinion of London dandies was not entirely pleasant, but he could not imagine that the notion of a vampire beneath her roof would be any easier to bear.

"I can safely a.s.sure you that I am utterly unlike any other gentleman of society."

With a small grunt Meg heaved herself out of her chair, the frying pan still clutched in her hand.

"I shall wait and see."

"As you wish." He sent her a kindly smile. "Go to bed, Meg. I will keep watch upon Jocelyn."

She waved the pan in a warning gesture. "Not too close a watch, mind you."

"Believe in me."

He watched as the servant wearily made her way out of the kitchen and toward her own small bed behind the pantry. For a moment he considered whether to return to the warehouse and attempt to track Amadeus to his lair. He was certainly no further along in convincing the traitor into returning to the Veil than he had been when he first arrived in London. Worse, he still did not know exactly when Amadeus might next strike.

Then he gave a slow shake of his head.

He could not leave Jocelyn in the darkness of night. It was the time of vampires. It was when those who had indulged in blood l.u.s.t were at their strongest. And, of course, there was always the danger of Amadeus's henchmen.

He would do precisely as he had promised.

He would stand guard over the woman who was rapidly becoming a very necessary part of his life.

A woman who was stirring more than just his pa.s.sions to life.

? Scanned by Coral ?

Six.

Hidden in the cellars of a local brothel, Amadeus sat beside the man chained to the heavy table. For nearly a week he had patiently tortured the foolish dandy, careful to keep him upon the edge of death without allowing him to tumble into oblivion.

It was tedious, delicate work. Only a master such as himself could possibly maintain such a fine line between life and death.

But even a master could begin to lose patience, Amadeus conceded, reaching up to remove the gag from the pathetic wretch's mouth.

The pudgy face of the dandy was set in rigid fear as Amadeus bent over him.

"No," he choked out in terrified tones.

Smothering his angry impatience, Amadeus forced a comforting smile to his lips.

"Be at ease, my child," he soothed, "I am here to help. Would you like some water?"

"Yes."

Careful to dribble only the smallest amount of water between the gaping lips, Amadeus bent over the nearly delirious gentleman. The fool appeared a sorry sight with his hair matted with sweat and his finery stained with his own blood. Far different from the arrogant pup who had swaggered into the brothel searching for the more exotic sins of the flesh.

"Now, look at me," he commanded in relentless tones. "Look deep into my eyes. Tell me, what do you see?"

Unable to resist the compelling force of Amadeus's voice, the man gazed helplessly into the pale eyes.

"Darkness," he babbled in fear. "Evil. Evil."

"No, you idiot," Amadeus gritted out. "What do you see? What truths do you behold?"

The dandy shook his head from side to side, spittle foaming at his mouth.

"Servant of h.e.l.l, begone."

"Fah."

Thoroughly disgusted by the ridiculous buffoon, Amadeus leaned downward and sank his fangs deep within the fat throat. In moments the man below him was arched in the throes of death, and the vampire slowly glutted himself in the delights of blood l.u.s.t.

And why not?

It had obviously been a vexing waste of time to attempt to learn anything from the wretched human. Like all the rest, he was weak and unable to concentrate when faced with the ultimate wonder. He had provided him nothing. Nodiing but the usual babblings.

Wiping the blood from his lips with a handkerchief, Amadeus slowly regained control of his icy fury.

There were endless mortals to experiment upon, he silently consoled himself. And once the Medallion was in his grasp, he would no longer need to conceal himself in such squalid surroundings with only the dregs of humanity to choose from.

The Medallion.

The pale eyes glittered in the thick darkness.

His desire for the powerful amulet was becoming nearly overwhelming. He could feel it in the distance. A shimmering temptation that taunted him by remaining just out of reach.

"Master."

Amadeus turned to discover his most recent servant shuffling into the dark room.

"What is it?"

"I have brought the glove."

"Ah, yes." Moving forward, the vampire plucked the glove from the man's outstretched hand.

Earlier in the day he had commanded the servant to slip into Miss Kingly's home and procure a piece of her clothing. He grew weary of the woman's stubborn refusal to accept his generous offer of friendship. And even more weary of Lucien's unwelcome interference. Tomorrow evening he would attempt a more direct means of acquiring the Medallion. But first... "I must hunt another mortal for my experiments. Have this body tossed in the river."

Even for a summer day it was hot.

Golden sunshine bathed the remote meadow in a brilliant afternoon light, the faint breeze spiced by the scent of wildflowers.

But it was not the cloudless sky or the unfamiliar heat that was causing the faint moistness that trickled down Jocelyn's back.

Oh, she might adamantly tell herself that the rapid pace of her heart and unmistakable fever in her blood came from the sun overhead. And that her mouth was dry from the heat. Unfortunately she could not quite make the thought ring true.

Instead, she very much feared it was the tall, lean gentleman who was currently pressed behind her with his arms around her. Although he was officially attempting to teach her how to shoot the bow and arrow she currently held in her hands, very little of her mind was upon the lesson. How could she possibly concentrate upon anything beyond the delicious curls of excitement that were running rampant through her?

It was indecent; she attempted to chide her wayward reaction to his proximity. She knew nothing of this gentleman who had so swiftly invaded her home and her life. He was as much a mystery as the day he had first walked into her study.

And yet, with every pa.s.sing hour she discovered herself more and more drawn to his dazzling presence. In just a few days he had awakened within her all those unpredictable pa.s.sions and thirst for life she had thought safely put behind her. And worse, she was uncertain whether to curse him or bless him.

All she did know was that when she was with him she forgot all the pain and darkness that had marred her life. She did not think of the scandal that had ruined her future among society.

She did not think of her parents, who had turned her out of their home. She did not even think of the danger that suddenly shrouded her in fear.

There was nothing but Lucien and the gentleness of his smile that could reach her very soul.

Seemingly unaware of her growing weakness, Lucien leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek as he pressed her arms higher.

"Now pull back slowly," he commanded, waiting until she had pulled the bow tight. "Yes. Hold your arm steady."

Glaring toward the target set across the open meadow, Jocelyn grimaced at the low words.

She had already attempted to hit the blasted thing on a dozen occasions. Lucien, of course, had proven to be just as efficient an expert with the bow and arrow as he was at everything else. He had managed to hit the bull's-eye with every arrow he sent winging toward the target.

It was decidedly maddening.

"I am trying," she muttered.

"Concentrate upon the target."

His fingers brushed over her arms left bare by her blue muslin gown. Jocelyn gritted her teeth at the sharp pleasure that flowed through her.

Concentrate? When he was so close that she could feel the very heat of him searing her skin?

"I see the target," she retorted in tart tones.

"No, concentrate upon it until there is nothing else," he corrected her in that dark, honey voice. "Now breathe steadily."

Knowing that it was impossible to concentrate upon anything but the gentleman pressed so intimately against her, Jocelyn heaved a sigh.

"Surely it cannot be so difficult to fly an arrow toward a target?"

"Do you wish to learn the proper technique or not?"

"I suppose."

"Then, concentrate." Keeping his hands upon her arms to help her aim, he waited until she had managed to steady her swift breaths. "Now."

At his command, Jocelyn abruptly let the arrow fly, thoroughly astonished when it actually managed to head in the proper direction, and even caught the bottom of the target. It promptly bounced to the ground, but she did not care.

"I hit it." Grinning broadly at her success, Jocelyn spun about to confront Lucien. "Did you see?"

An indulgent expression spread across the delicately chiseled countenance.

"Yes, I did see. But you allowed your arm to dip when you released the arrow. Would you care to try again?"

"Good gads, no," she retorted with sincere weariness. "I shall be stiff for the next fortnight as it is."