As Shadows Fade (15 page)

While he was gone and she took advantage of the privacy for her own needs, Victoria wondered not for the first time what had changed his mind. Not that she'd spent a lot of energy mulling over it during the activities of the night…and morning. But it worried her.

Max had been pushing her at Sebastian for months. He'd been ready to leave last night, and Victoria had no illusion that he'd have returned.

But she'd said something that had changed his mind, for Victoria knew the sheer pink night rail hadn't done the job on its own, and she suspected what had tipped the scales was the confession that she'd not been with Sebastian in months.

I've no interest in Vioget's leavings.

Or is it that you don't want to know your child's patrimony?

That had to be it. He'd made comments before about her long line of lovers, and he'd thought she meant to dally with them both. She hoped last night's confession had set him straight.

When Max came back into her chamber, he stood in the doorway for a moment lacing his simple trousers. Victoria swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She forgot her intent to confront him about his decision to stay. Those sleek muscles, the broad, square shoulders, the dark hair dusting swarthy skin…

“Did you learn anything from Vioget yesterday?” he asked without preamble.

Victoria looked sharply at him, but she saw nothing but normal interest in his expression. Ah. Back to the matter at hand. “He says we need the Rings of Jubai,” she replied, feeling his gaze follow her as she pulled on a thin robe. “He also told me that Lilith has protections on the pool at MunÅ£ii Fǎgǎraş so no one can breach the water.”

“And the rings? To trade with Lilith so we can get the orb?”

Victoria shook her head. “Lilith had them made—five copper rings that she gave to her most powerful Guardian vampires. According to Sebastian, when all five are worn on one hand, they allow the hand to reach safely into the pool.”

Max's face had become more serious and intent as she spoke. He nodded once. “Vioget's information is usually accurate. At least his years with Beauregard have brought us some advantage.”

“We have two of the Rings of Jubai,” Victoria said, more to herself than to Max. “One Sebastian retrieved from Lilith's underground lair last month.”

“I recall,” Max replied drily. Indeed he should, for Victoria and Sebastian had intended to trade the ring for Max's freedom if there was no other way for him to escape from Lilith. “And the other is in the Consilium.”

“Sebastian tells me a third is somewhere in Prague.”

“Prague? I haven't been there in years,” Max said. “Does Vioget know where?”

“He claims he can locate it. He's already agreed to go with me.” She looked at him. “And you…if you wish.”

Max straightened and looked out the window. His dark hair hung, rumpled and thick, framing his face, brushing the sides of his neck, making Victoria want to touch it.

But she wasn't yet confident enough to do so. Max could just as easily pull back as allow it.

“I must find a vampire,” he said, still looking out the window. His jaw seemed tight, and the beam of sunlight scored his high cheekbones.

Victoria's eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, a knock on the door startled her. She turned. “Yes?”

Orange hair poked bashfully around the corner, followed by Verbena's pert nose and sandy eyelashes. “Would ye be wantin' somethin' to break the fast? Eh…I thought y'might be hungry. It's nearin' to noon.”

Victoria checked her smile as Verbena glanced balefully at Max, who, in his disheveled, shirtless state with the set look on his face, did look rather intimidating.

“Yes, indeed,” she replied to her maid, choosing to answer for both of them.

But she hadn't forgotten Max's statement…one that sounded almost as if it had been wrung from him.

As soon as Verbena quit the room—after having rested a tray laden with food on the dressing table—Victoria simply raised a brow at Max. And waited.

“For the Trial,” he said. “All of the vampires have quit London, but I need one if I'm to undertake the Trial again.”

Suddenly assaulted by a variety of emotions, Victoria fell to examining the victuals brought by her maid. Fear…a sudden thrust of fear, accompanied by a thrill of excitement…and the soft nudge of some other gentler emotion. Tenderness?

“Max,” she began.

But he held up his hand, turning at last from the window to face her. “I'd already decided, before…last night.” Was it her imagination, or did his voice falter a bit at the end? Grow a bit husky with memory? Or was it merely wishful thinking? “But if we're to go to Prague, and find the rings…” He stopped. His mouth tightened and she saw, even felt, the ripple of tension settle over his body. “I presume Lilith has the other two.”

Victoria nodded. According to Sebastian, Lilith had managed to retain only two of her rings. When she saw the expression on Max's face, her stomach turned into a ball of lead.

They would have to find some way to retrieve the last two Rings of Jubai from the vampire queen—either by her cooperation, for the protection of her race as well as theirs, or by violence.

And she knew if Max survived the Trial and became a Venator again, he'd be in the thick of whatever it was.

 

+ + +

If Victoria thought things with Max would change completely after he divested her of that pink froth (which, incidentally, Verbena had found crumpled beneath one of the tables at the top of the staircase…in two pieces), she was wrong.

It felt as if they wore new clothing that didn't fit quite right yet.

Offering a vague excuse, Max left the bedchamber shortly after Verbena did, grabbing up a chunk of cheese wrapped in crusty bread and casting a lingering look over Victoria as he slipped out the door.

He didn't kiss her…though she could tell he wanted to.

She sighed in exasperation after he'd gone. He was definitely not comfortable with this new arrangement. However, she stretched and smiled and rolled onto her stomach to bury her face in the sheets, inhaling his scent still imprinted on the pillow…taking a rare moment in her stressful life to simply enjoy something that most people took for granted.

Soon enough—tomorrow—they'd be traveling posthaste to Prague, and then on to wherever Lilith was, and there would be little time for pleasure of any kind.

If it wasn't enough that Victoria suddenly felt odd in her skin around Max, she also had to contend with her mother, for Lady Melly called not more than two hours later.

“My dear Victoria,” Lady Melly said, frowning at her daughter, “whatever is the matter with you?”

Victoria blanched a bit, her hand moving to her neck as though to feel for…what? Vampire bites? Love bites? “What do you mean, Mother?”

“Why, you look as though you can barely walk. Did you have a fall?”

Victoria's face warmed and her hand fell from her throat. “No, indeed. I'm simply a bit…tired.”

“Well, you certainly don't look tired,” Melly said, eyeing her critically. “You look…well, if I didn't know better, I'd think…
well
.”

Was that a flush settling over her mother's cheeks?

“Mother, I'm sorry that I don't have time to visit, but I was just leaving.”

“Leaving? Are you making calls? Perhaps I'll go with you…but you aren't dressed for calls, Victoria. You simply cannot wear—”

“Mother,” Victoria interrupted, gesturing at Charley to call for a carriage that she didn't really need. Desperate circumstances required desperate acts.

“I'm not making calls. I have to meet with Aunt Eustacia's barrister,” she explained, thinking quickly. “It appears I might have to travel back to Rome to attend to business there.” That, at least, was true…the business being retrieving the copper ring from the Consilium. But from there, it would be on to Prague.

“You are going
to
the barrister, instead of him calling here? Why that's simply not done, Victoria! Not by a marchioness, indeed not. And where are your gloves? I daresay—”

“Mother,” Victoria said, enunciating clearly, “I must not be late for my appointment. Was there something you wished to speak with me on?”

“Why…why…and did you say going to Rome? To handle
business?
But, Victoria, that's why you have a barrister to manage all of the inheritance from your aunt. There's no need for you to dirty your hands with that. Speaking of which, where
are
your gloves? And” —her voice became more strident as her daughter opened her mouth to respond— “aside from that, the apparent Marquess of Rockley has arrived in London this day…which was why I hurried over to notify you.”

“Thank you for that pertinent information, Mother,” Victoria said drily She glanced longingly toward the door.

At that moment, it opened and Max stepped in.

Lady Melly looked at him. Up at him. And she took a step back. A slight one, but a step nevertheless. Her attention darted to Victoria, as if to measure her response to the imposing man who'd just entered her home uninvited.

Melly had met Max only briefly over the years that he assisted Aunt Eustacia, and Victoria wasn't certain whether she even remembered or recognized him.

“Your carriage is waiting, my lady,” Max said in the driest of voices. There was no mistaking him for a footman. Victoria saw a glint of humor in his eyes, and she lifted her chin in an effort not to smile.

“I'm sorry, Mother, but I simply must go. Do give the marquess my best wishes.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I shall likely be leaving for Rome tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Lady Melly shrieked.

Victoria winced.

Max grimaced, and Victoria slipped past him through the open door. Her mother's words followed her like the screech of an owl, and Victoria dimly registered something about a welcome ball for the presumed marquess.

“You must give him my regrets, Mother,” she said over her shoulder, certain Melly would at least seize upon the excuse to speak to the marquess if she didn't have a daughter to thrust at him.

To Victoria's surprise, Max followed her to the carriage. He spoke briefly to the groom, and then stepped inside. The door closed, and as the vehicle started off with a gentle lurch, Max settled in the seat…across from her.

Apparently, old habits died hard.

For a moment, the only noise was the rhythmic clopping of hooves on the cobbled street and the faint creak of the carriage springs. Victoria studied him, feeling as though at last she'd earned the privilege of watching him as long and as hard as she wished.

As he often did, Max gazed out the small window, giving her little more to look at than the profile of a strong, straight nose and solid chin, now clean-shaven. And his mouth.

Her own mouth dried just a little, as she remembered with perfect clarity all of the wonderful places those lips had been, and all of the breathtaking things they'd done. Victoria's belly did that little flip that settled into a warm tingling through her limbs, and she swallowed.

“Rather a shame to hitch up the horses for a drive around the block,” she commented, breaking the silence at last. “But I knew that, short of leaving the house, I'd not escape from Mother.”

“I thought perhaps you might have another use for the carriage.”

Victoria looked sharply at him, but he still peered out the window. She couldn't tell from his profile whether that glint of humor…or heat…was there in his eyes.

But heat definitely warmed her cheeks.

“Such as?” she asked.

He lounged back into a corner of the blue velvet squab, resting an arm along the top of it. At last he turned to look at her. A dangerous glint lingered in his dark eyes, but he merely replied, “A visit to Fleet Street? Don't you need some fripperies or furbelows for your trip to Roma?”

“Why, Max, do you mean to say you wish to go shopping with me?” She batted her eyelashes coyly. “How unexpectedly accommodating of you.”

Max's response was a snort that sounded suspiciously like “Like hell,” but those beautiful lips tightened as though trying to keep from smiling. “I had plenty of bloody shopping when I courted Sara.”

“Ah, yes, you would have done.” Now Victoria couldn't hold back a smile. She no longer cared about Max's false courtship with Sara Regalado, and could find humor in the thought of him dutifully following the fashion-conscious Italian girl from shop to shop. Max would do anything in the name of duty.

Anything.

Victoria sobered. “Max, you don't have to take the
vis bulla
again. It doesn't matter to me.”

His face stilled, matching hers in seriousness. “It does to me.”

“I don't want anything to happen to you,” she said, unable to hold the words back. Blast. She sounded like a weak woman! She,
Summa
Gardella. Was this what love did?

Max gave a humorless laugh. “The feeling is quite mutual, Victoria. But the fact is, something is much more likely to happen to me if I
don't
take the
vis
.”

He was right, of course. Max wouldn't stop fighting vampires without the power of the
vis bulla,
and so far his lack of Venatorial strength hadn't kept him from being coveted by Lilith. Only three weeks earlier, Lilith had had Max in her possession and Victoria and the other Venators had helped him to escape.

“And to you,” he added. His dark eyes settled on her, and she felt a burst of warmth. And fear.

This emotion, this tingling, sparking connection that bound them frightened her—it was strong yet uncertain.

And the future was frightening, for she couldn't imagine it without Max.

“Max,” she began, but he cut her off.

“What you fail to understand, Victoria,” he said, his voice low, cool, “is that I now have no choice. I will go through the Trial, and I will succeed.”