AMAZON KINDLE VERSION A Siberian Werewolf In London EDITED 3 9 2012 (10 page)

When the knock on the door came, Brencis jumped up to answer it. The smells of fresh coffee, eggs and sausage, made Melisande's mouth water. She was really hungry. Brencis wheeled the cart of food into the room, and soon they were all eating as if there was no tomorrow. Once the food was gone, they all sat back enjoying the feeling of being full.

Melisande sipped at her coffee and watched as Brencis and Valerii teased each other. She thought they must be around twenty-five. Watching the three men, she noticed how close they were, though the younger men were always respectful of Grigori and never went to quite the same lengths when teasing him as they did each other.

 She also noticed how attentive they all were to her, though sometimes Brencis seemed a little cold, but always polite. If she even thought of wanting something from the tray, one of them would jump up to help. It was a little overwhelming to be the center of so much attention.

 Grigori seemed to be always touching her. While the boys cleaned off the table, returning the plates to the cart, Grigori moved his chair so he could place his arm around her.

"We are going to move to a townhouse, Dmitry, our pack leader, rented for us,” Grigori said. “It will be more secure and private. If there are any foods you would especially like, let us know. Brencis and Valerii will make sure they are purchased. Officer Kincaid is waiting to escort us to the property.”

"I need to mail the tapestry samples I took yesterday,” Melisande said.

"If you prepare them, Valerii will drop them off at the post office for you.”

"Well, then I guess I better pack. Do you have any idea how long we need to stay out of sight?"

"Hopefully not long,
lyubov moya
. I know this is hard for you.”

"Will there be a phone? I need to contact Lady Ashtown with the results of the lab work, and I thought I might see my cousin while I'm here in London.”

"Your cousin, Lord Barras?" asked Brencis "Can we come too?"

"I'm sure Andrew would like to meet all of you.”

Grigori saw the blush on Melisande's face and reached through the bond to find out what made her uncomfortable. He touched her thoughts and heard them clearly
If Grigori and I are getting married, Andrew would want to meet him and his family. Of course, Grigori hasn't asked me to marry him.

 So, that was the problem. In the pack, the forming of the mating bond proclaimed a couples’ unity, but in Melisande's world, a marriage license united a couple. Grigori would ask about government rules concerning marriage in England. If they waited to return to Siberia, they would have to wait at least sixty days before the legalities could be figured out and the required civil ceremony performed. Perhaps Melisande's cousin would help him take care of the legalities here in England.

Luckily, Brencis had brought the Solovyov diamond ring with him from Russia as requested. It was a family heirloom handed down through the generations, a gift to an ancestor from Catherine the Great. It had been hidden for years and carried to the Siberian pack lands when the family sought refuge. It had belonged to Grigori’s mother before she died. Now it would belong to Melisande. He would need a moment of privacy to give it to her.

If the situation were different, Grigori would have arranged a night of dinner and dancing before presenting Meli with the ring. She would have liked the romance. He felt a flash of anger and quickly subdued it, afraid Melisande would feel it through the mating bond. He wouldn't be able to give her that memory. Pavel Funenko would answer for stealing the moment away from them.

Melisande finished packing her suitcase and sighed as she zipped it up. This was the third move in four days, and she was tired. After the samples mailed to the Smithsonian for testing, she was supposed to have three or four days to go sightseeing and have fun. Instead of going on a bus tour, she would be hiding in a townhome. How did things get so out of control, so quickly? The only bright side was Grigori, the man who claimed she was his mate. He was laughing at something Valerii said in the other room. Melisande was taken at how handsome Grigori looked when he relaxed. He turned and looked at her, and Melisande felt her heart lurch at the tenderness in his emerald eyes. How strange that she had traveled so far to find her true love.

Her grandparents would have said she came home to find her love. They had never understood why her mother chose to leave England behind and live in America. If she needed to marry a Yank, the least she could have done was stay in England. Melisande remembered many a Christmas when her grandfather would say those exact words to her mother. But her mother never took it personally. She would kiss her father on the cheek and say, “Because I love him, father," and the discussion would end.

Melisande missed her grandfather. He had died a few years ago, and Meli hadn't returned to England since then. Visiting with her cousin might help heal some of her grief. She should call him after they settled in the townhome.

Melisande walked out of the bedroom and into Grigori's arms. He always held her close, and she liked the feeling of safety his embrace gave her. Brencis jumped up and got her suitcase off the bed.

"I think that's everything,” Meli said.

"Are you ready then,
lyubov moya
?" Grigori asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be.”

"Then let us go see this townhouse Dmitry provided for us. Valerii, let Officer Kincaid know we are ready to depart.”

Grigori tucked Melisande into his side as the men surrounded her. The walk to the car went quickly, with Brencis and Valerii bringing the luggage and Officer Kincaid ushering her into the back of the car. Grigori followed her into the back seat on one side while Brencis got in the other. Valerii got in front with Officer Kincaid, and they were off. The windows were darkened, but Melisande still saw the traffic around Big Ben as they crossed the Thames and headed out of London.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Just taking a longer route, in case someone is following us. Hopefully we'll lose him, or if he thinks we're leaving London, he'll turn back to report,” Officer Kincaid said.

"Enjoy the ride, Melika. Maybe you can catch some of those sights you wanted to see,” Grigori said.

§

A black sedan sat parked on the side street across from the London Hilton Hotel. Two men sat in the front seat.

“Fools! Arrogant fools. Look, Golubev, how they protect the woman? They even checked her room for transmitters. But, they didn’t think to check her luggage. It was so simple to slip a small transmitter into her bag. Now, wherever they try to hide, I will find them. Follow their car, but not too closely. We don’t want to be spotted.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Golubev said as he turned the black sedan into the afternoon traffic.

Funenko rubbed his hands together. The plan was being organized. Stealing Solovyov’s woman would have been difficult from a hotel full of people, even with the help of Golubev and the other men. But now they would see where the police decided to hide the couple away. “Oh, yes. This was much better.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Melisande wrinkled her nose as she swallowed her first taste of warm British beer. Grigori chuckled as he watched her, while Brencis and Valerii laughed out loud.

“You need to take a healthy swallow, lass. Sipping it doesn’t count,” Officer Kincaid said.

“It’s a lot stronger than American beer,” Melisande pointed out.

“That it is. Now drink up, lass.”

Melisande dutifully took another swallow. The taste was strong, but it grew on her. Of course, she hardly ever drank alcohol at home. But trying British beer in a real pub was something she had always wanted to do.

She looked around at the interior of the pub and smiled. There weren’t very many patrons at two in the afternoon. But the place exuded the Old World ambiance she loved. Shiny dark woodwork contrasted with old plaster walls. An old stone fireplace sat on one wall with a picture of a sea captain hanging over the mantel. Paintings of sailing ships were scattered around the room. She especially liked the huge model of a galley ship hanging behind the bar. The name “Sea Dog” fit the atmosphere of the pub perfectly.

Once, Officer Kincaid heard she wanted to do some sightseeing, he had turned into the world’s best tour guide. He assured Grigori and his companions that Inspector Lewis had told him to see to their comfort. They drove by the Tower of London, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the London Eye and so many churches and bridges Melisande couldn’t keep up with them all. What should have taken an hour or so had turned into a half-day excursion, all for Melisande’s benefit. This was the last stop before they headed for the townhome Grigori rented.

Melisande felt good. Wasn’t she lucky to be surrounded by such handsome caring men? Suddenly, her head felt a little funny. Grigori leaned across the table and placed his hand over hers as she started to lift the pint mug, which was almost empty.

“I think we should go to the house now, Melika. The lady who is interested in being our cook is supposed to arrive at three.”

“Rosie MacDonald is a good woman. She adopted five wayward orphans. Everyone at the station knows she has a heart of gold,” Kincaid said.

“But can she cook?” asked Brencis.

“That she can. She prepares a stew that makes your mouth water,” Kincaid explained. “I hope you can work something out with her. Her last employer died suddenly and left her in a lurch. She could really use the money. Raising five boys by herself is a hard job.”

“We will certainly be happy to have her. But the job is temporary,” Grigori pointed out.

“Well, it’ll give her more time to find something permanent,” Kincaid said.

Grigori glanced at Melisande in concern. She wasn’t used to drinking alcohol, and he feared the beer was having a strong effect on her. She stared dreamily around the pub, smiling and waving at the barkeeper. Grigori caught Valerii’s attention and motioned him to push the glass out of her reach.

“Melisande, we need to go,
detka.”

“Already, but I haven’t finished my beer. Hey, Valerii, I didn’t say I would share.”

“Sure you did. Don’t you remember?” Valerii asked, taking a swig of the liquid.

Grigori glared at Valerii, who tried not to laugh. Alcohol had no effect on lycanthropes.

“I did?” Melisande asked in confusion.

“All right, let us go,” Grigori said as he stood up, pulling Melisande up with him. “Officer Kincaid, if you will get the car. Brencis, please pay our bill.”

“Did I, Grigori? Because I can’t remember saying I’d share. I don’t mind, really, sharing I mean. But I hate not remembering.”

Grigori pulled Melisande closer into his side. His arm around her waist supported her when she swayed slightly. “I don’t believe you did,
milen’kij.
Valerii is teasing you.”

“Oh well, shame on him. He thinks he’s such a charmer. But he’s not as charming as you are, Grigori.”

Grigori looked up at Valerii and smirked. His mate might be feeling the effects of alcohol, but she hadn’t lost her good taste. “I’m glad you feel that way, Melika. Come, the car is waiting out front.”

Brencis walked up, and the three men surrounded Melisande, as they escorted her to the car. Today was about giving Melisande a day of fun, but none of the men forgot the danger still looming.

By the time they pulled into the gated drive of the townhouse, Melisande had recovered from her British beer experience. She had had such an enjoyable afternoon that she had forgotten someone was trying to kill her. It wasn’t until the men ushered her to the car, protecting her from taking a bullet, that she was reminded of the danger. It was a sobering thought, quite literally.

A six-foot brick fence with a large wrought-iron gate across the driveway surrounded the townhome. A small garden ran along the side of the building. The only tree was next to the house, a towering oak, offering shade to the drive. Melisande saw a boxwood hedge near the back of the house and wondered what the backyard was like.

The men ushered her into the building, all of them looking around in curiosity. Inside the house a grand staircase went up one side of the entryway hall. There were wooden moldings and marble floors. Melisande peeked into the first room off the hall and found a quaint sitting room with a huge fireplace and mantel. A painting of a man with a large lace collar over a golden doublet and lace cuffs, from the time of the Tudors, sat over the mantel looking at them.