Authors: Alexandra Ivy
My Lord Vampire (3 page)
A brief image of Simone floating down the path toward the gazebo where he would readily join her in rose-scented passion was fiercely thrust away. Sweet Nefri, did the woman have magic of her own? Had she managed to bewitch him?
Cloaking himself in icy control, Gideon regarded his young servant with a glittering gaze.
“A straight answer if you please.”
The lad dropped his false air of bravado and gave a somber nod. “Yes, sir. Seen a bloke slip through the garden and onto the terrace near an hour ago.”
Gideon was on instant alert. “What did he look like?”
A shudder abruptly raced through the boy. “Difficult to say in the dark, but I do know he was tall and thin with a cape like yer own. Hair seemed a funny silver like, but it could be the moonlight.”
“Tristan,” he muttered, easily able to identify one of the renegades. A vampire with considerable power, he was more crafty than intelligent, and always brutal. He was also notoriously impatient. Gideon would have to consider how best to use that weakness to his own advantage. “He now knows that I am here.”
“Beg pardon, sir, but he gave me a right queer feeling.”
Gideon snapped his attention back to the youth standing before him. “You did not approach him, did you?”
“No.” He gave a violent shake of his head. “I stayed right in the bushes as you said. Still ... I shouldn’t like to come up against him in a dark alley.”
“It would be even worse than you could ever imagine,” Gideon assured him in bleak tones. Were Tristan to discover that this boy was in his employ the vampire would take great delight in torturing him beyond all bearing. “You are to have nothing to do with him. Is that understood?”
The boy turned to spit upon the ground. “Couldn’t pay me enough to tangle with that bugger. Makes me feel like the night me da locked me in a crypt for spilling his gin. Nasty business.”
Gideon arched a brow at the youth’s perception. “You possess a rare insight for a mere mort ... boy,” he smoothly corrected.
That crooked grin returned. “I live on the streets, guv. I would have been dead long ago if I couldn’t smell trouble.”
“I suppose so.” Gideon straightened, knowing he still had a long night ahead of him searching for Tristan’s lair. “You know what is to be done?”
The boy heaved a breath at his question. He had been forced to repeat the command over and over until Gideon was certain that he had it memorized.
“Two of us on duty at all times. If the lady leaves we are to follow at a safe distance. If we notice anything a bit off we are to fetch you at yer home.”
“Anything,” Gideon stressed in tones that rippled through the air. “Even if it appears harmless.”
The lad gave a mocking salute. “Righto, guv.”
Gideon briefly considered the boy then; realizing he had done all that was possible to keep Simone safe, he gave a smooth nod of his head.
“I shall meet with you again tomorrow.”
Turning on his heel Gideon faded into the shadows. No one could see him halt one more time to glance toward the figure still outlined in front of the window before he was slipping through the mews and on the hunt for a silver-haired vampire.
It had been a long, frustrating night for Gideon.
Upon more than one level,
he reluctantly conceded as he moved up the steps to Simone’s town house.
he reluctantly conceded as he moved up the steps to Simone’s town house.
Not only had he failed to find any trace of Tristan as he had searched through the streets of London, he had been unable to banish the thought of a golden-haired beauty with eyes of emeralds.
Even when he had at last accepted the limitations of his physical form and briefly lay upon his bed, he had been haunted by the vision of her graceful features and enticing curves. Curves that he did not doubt would fit perfectly beneath him.
The very fact he could not dismiss her from his thoughts had Gideon leaving his bed and attiring himself in black coat and breeches.
He disliked the sense of being controlled by the sudden passions that plagued him, he acknowledged sourly. The sooner he could track down Tristan and convince him of the futility of his cause, the sooner he could return behind the Veil.
But first he had to call upon Simone and somehow establish a means of forcing her to obey him.
His lips thinned. He would rather face the bloodthirsty Tristan.
Reaching the top step, Gideon patiently waited as the door was pulled open by the pug-faced butler who regarded him with a challenging stare. There was little doubt that the poor servant had been severely chastised for allowing him to pass last night, and that he fully intended to halt him today.
He was visibly bristling with aggression.
Stepping past the servant into the foyer, Gideon handed the man his hat and gloves.
“Mr. Ravel to see Lady Gilbert,” he stated smoothly.
The servant jutted out his chin. “Her ladyship is not at home.”
Gideon waved a slender hand, silently speaking the powerful words that would ensure he was allowed to see the stubborn minx. He did not possess the time for such nonsense.
“I fear you must be mistaken,” he said softly.
“No, I ...” The servant faltered as his thoughts became tangled. “I mean, she does not wish to see you.”
“She will see me.”
There was a strained silence. “I was commanded not to let you in.”
“Now I am commanding you to allow me to pass.”
“I ...”
“Move aside.”
There was a brief struggle before the butler was giving an obedient nod of his head.
“Yes, of course.”
Gideon smiled with cold satisfaction. “I will show myself in.”
“Very well.”
Knowing that it would be some time before the butler realized that he had once again failed his mistress, Gideon moved toward the steps and fluidly swept upward. He paused briefly upon the landing, using his senses to draw him toward a room at the end of the gallery. Even before opening the door he could feel the maiden’s tension as it hummed through the air. Somehow the thought that she was as unnerved as he brought a sense of satisfaction.
Moving with unearthly silence Gideon opened the door and slid into the ivory and gilded room. For a moment he merely watched the woman as she paced across the carpet, appreciating the manner the brilliant sapphire gown drifted about her slender curves, and the play of the afternoon sunlight in the flowing golden curls. There was a vibrant spirit about her that called to the stirring passions deep within him.
With a stern warning at his tenuous restraint he cloaked himself in the cool arrogance that had once seemed so effortless.
He was a superior being with powers beyond the comprehensions of a mere mortal.
No mere maiden was going to disrupt his equanimity. Or at least he would never reveal such weakness.
“Good day, Lady Gilbert,” he greeted in tones as smooth as black velvet.
He watched the slender body stiffen and her hands clench at her side before Simone slowly turned to regard him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“You. How ... ?” She bit off her words as she noted the expectant glint in his dark eyes. With an obvious effort she attempted to appear unconcerned by his sudden arrival. “What are you doing here?”
He waved a negligent hand, refusing to allow his gaze to linger on the translucent perfection of the satin skin revealed by the low bodice. Or to notice the musky scent of rosewater that filled the air.
“What any gentleman would be doing when he has been captivated by a beautiful woman,” he retorted as he strolled toward the center of the room. “I have come to pay homage.”
The emerald eyes flared but surprisingly she did not accept his calculated words with the ease he had hoped.
“Fah.”
“Fah?”
“You are not captivated.” Her expression was one of stubborn suspicion. “And you are not here to pay homage. I have had enough time to consider your odd arrival at my home last evening.”
A ripple of impatience threatened his calm demeanor. There was an unmistakable air of challenge about her that threatened to touch his more primitive nature.
“Indeed?” He stepped closer, hoping to intimidate her by his mere presence. “And what have you concluded ?”
She fiercely held her ground, although he did not miss the manner her fingers clutched at the folds of her skirt.
“That you are not whom you seem to be.”
Gideon regarded her a moment in silence, quite certain that she could not possibly have guessed the truth. Humans never desired to believe that there were powers beyond their comprehension.
“You still believe me to be an encroacher?” he demanded with a lift of his brow. “Shall I cut myself to prove my blue blood?”
Her features tightened, but Gideon suddenly sensed there was more than irritation behind her prickly unease. Despite all her bluff and bravado there was an unmistakable scent of fear in the air. Not a fear of her physical being, he carefully concluded, but a fear that he could harm her in some elusive fashion.
“What do you seek from me?” she demanded in tones that were not quite steady. “Is it money?”
Gideon regarded her with an arrested expression. The fear was now nearly palpable in the air.
She thought he desired money from her?
Why?
“Interesting.” He studied the guarded features that held enough stubborn pride to do a vampire proud. What could possibly force such a woman to harbor such anxiety? “You think I have come to blackmail you?”
A shiver raced through her stiff form but she faced him squarely.
“Have you?”
“I wonder what dark secret you possess,” he murmured softly. “It must be dark indeed to fear blackmail.”
Her gaze narrowed with impatience. “I am in no humor to play these absurd games, sir. What is it that you want?”
He briefly considered the wisdom of using her unwitting weapon to hold her in his power, before he was thrusting it aside. Perhaps he could force her to obey his commands, but he oddly disliked the notion of allowing her to believe he was a cowardly buffoon who would abuse her secrets for his own gain.
What he desired was her trust, he realized with a flare of surprise.
“It is really quite simple,” he informed her in silky tones. “I have come to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Her golden brows pleated in a disbelieving frown. “That is ridiculous. I need no protection.”
Foolish chit.
He briefly thought of Tristan standing upon the terrace last evening. With a single word he could have cloaked himself in mist and entered her home. She would have been dead before she ever realized she was in danger. Only the fact that she possessed the Medallion had thus far saved her. The renegade could not lure her with a spell, nor simply kill her. The Medallion had been bonded to her with a Soul Weave. Unless she gave it freely it could not be taken.
“That is because you do not yet realize your danger,” he informed darkly.
“Danger from whom?”
“That is all I am willing to tell you.”
“This is absurd.” She folded her arms about her waist, unconsciously making the full curve of her bosom all the more visible. Gideon could almost taste the sweet heat of her skin. “I am not about to allow some arrogant stranger to thrust his way into my home under the pretext of a mythical danger you will not even reveal.”
He gazed down the length of his thin nose. “Actually you have little choice in the matter.”
The absolute authority in his tone made a tiny muscle in her jaw pulse. “I was right last night. You are mad.”
Gideon shrugged, not about to indulge her in a futile argument. Protecting the Medallion was his entire purpose in being within the world of mortals. He would do whatever necessary.
Stepping close enough to be bathed in her rose scent, he allowed his gaze to lower toward the shimmering golden Medallion that lay against her white skin.
Although disguised as a simple amulet, his sensitive gaze could easily discern the power that pulsed within. He felt a small tingle of awe at the tangible symbol of Nefri and her glory.
“Tell me, Lady Gilbert, where did you buy that unusual necklace?”
She blinked in bewilderment at his sudden shift in conversation. “What?”
“It is a most interesting design.”
Her lips thinned at his obvious ploy. “We were discussing your unwelcome presence in my home, not my necklace.”
“You have a reason not to discuss the necklace?” he challenged smoothly. “You perhaps stole it?”
Predictably she bristled at his words. “Certainly not. If you must know it was given to me by an old gypsy.”
He wondered what she would do if he were to tell her that it was a priceless relic that possessed untold power. And that the old gypsy had been the mightiest of all vampires.
No doubt she would truly label him mad.
Or run into the streets screaming with fear.
“That would explain the inscription,” he murmured instead.
“You know what it means?” she said in surprise.
Unable to resist temptation Gideon lifted his hand to grasp the Medallion in his fingers.
Whether the temptation was to feel the shimmering power within the amulet or to have an excuse to allow his fingers to rest against the pearly softness of her skin he did not bother to ponder.
“‘Those who search for peace have already discovered wisdom,’” he quoted in low tones.
“Oh,” she breathed, her heart beating frantically at the light touch of his fingers.
“Did this gypsy tell you anything of this amulet?”
“Only some foolishness about never removing it at the risk of a terrible curse and that it can never be stolen, only freely given to another. The usual gypsy nonsense.”
His eyes bored deep within her own, willing her to comprehend just how dangerous it would be to remove the Medallion.
“I would not dismiss her words so swiftly.”
“I ... surely you do not ask me to believe in curses?” she demanded, but without the bluster she had managed before.
“I ask you to believe that there are mysteries in the world that are not easily explained. Mysteries that defy logic.”
“Mysteries such as you?” she charged.
“Yes.”
He could not prevent the faint smile that suddenly curved his lips, nor the fingers that loosened their hold upon the amulet to softly explore the skin that was driving him to distraction. His breath caught as he skimmed the warm silkiness that he had not felt in two centuries.
Dark passions once again stirred within him, making the air feel as thick as honey. This woman possessed something ... something that he had never before experienced. It threatened to unloosen the lust that smoldered deep within him.
His heart slowed as he watched his fingers travel over the sensuous curve of her breast, a building need to brand her as his own hardening his body.
He reached the edge of the bodice before she at last sucked in a sharp breath and gave a shake of her head.
“No. Please do not do that,” she whispered in uneven tones.
It was the very fact he could feel the desire pulsing through her blood that at last brought him to his senses.
This was not a part of his plan, he reminded himself coldly. And whatever the pleasure it might provide it would only add complications to a very dangerous situation.
Still he could not deny that there was something to be said for encouraging her desire, a renegade voice whispered in the back of his mind.
She was too independent to meekly submit to another’s commands, and too stubborn to accept that he might know what was best for her. Perhaps he could subdue her through her own devilish pride.
He had already witnessed the manner she used her beauty as a weapon over weak-willed men. And how indifferent she was to her ability to arouse their desires. It would not be easy for her to accept she might actually feel passion for a gentleman who was indifferent to her potent charms.
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