Tempt Me When the Sun Goes Down (27 page)

“Can’t you get your men to dress in something less dreary,
cariad
?  They’re positively ruining my party.”

It was the third time she’d mentioned the four members of the Order he’d tasked with keeping a low key presence in the ballroom.  To Bishop’s way of thinking, they blended into the background just fine.  Nobody blinked at the open carry, the Order was expected to be armed at all times.  “I don’t think anyone’s noticed they’re even here.”

“Of course they have.  It’s like we’re living in a police state,” she said, pink lips pulled into a pout.  “Perhaps we could get them to dress in matching livery at the very least.  There’s bound to be trunks of the stuff rattling around in this old mansion somewhere.  Send someone off to find some.”

“They’re not here as your personal footmen, Carys.  They’re working for me, not you.”

“But… Vetis is mine.”

“Not the Order, that’s not how it works.  I explained all of this to you before, don’t you remember?”

“I forget some of the middle parts.  We were distracted at the time, don’t
you
remember?”  Those glossy lips curved into a tempting smile. 

“Yeah, we were,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss her and she gave him her cheek, not wanting to muss her lipstick.  Not that he wanted pink lips in the bargain anyway, and he had to admit, she was a knockout in that get-up.  “Like I said before, the Order is its own entity, not subject to any of the Houses.”

“And you’re in charge of it all.”

“Yes, I am.  At least until I get fired for spending all of my time with you.”

“But Jakob is the one who placed you in power and he wouldn’t do such a thing, would he?”

“He might if I couldn’t do my job.”  More likely Jakob wouldn’t notice one way or the other, but one of his underlings might.  They were a cagey bunch, and he had to watch his back.  Brotherhood had its limits when they were talking about scrabbling for that kind of power. 

“Perhaps you should take a leave of absence?  At least for a while until I’ve found my footing as Elder.”

“You don’t need me for that, Aubrey’s the political animal in this family.  Or Anja is, for that matter.  You could always ask her for advice.”

“Why would I do that?  The West is hardly in the same league as Vetis,” she sniffed.

“Still, Anja’s got a lot of pull with the other Houses.  She’s really proven herself in the past year she’s been Elder.”  Then again, he was probably only adding to Anja’s headaches by suggesting her as a possible advisor for Carys. 

“I can’t imagine why,” she muttered, but Bishop decided to stay out of it.  A decision he was coming to repeat daily when in Carys’ company.  For the most part, it was easier that way since she did as she pleased anyway, no matter how solid the advice she got was. 

Amunet approached, sinking into a deep curtsey as she reached the dais.  Bishop was surprised to see her there, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her at Vetis.  Her ample curves were tightly bound into the corset of an old west, dance hall girl costume of deep red, with lips stained to match, and her skirt tucked up on one side to reveal a shapely leg.  Her raven hair was gathered up into an elaborate mass of curls with a single red feather bobbing as she bowed. 

“Greetings, Carys of the Northern Lands.  May your tribes prosper under the Sister Moon.”

“Amunet,” Carys smiled warmly, ignoring the rest of the formal greeting to hold her arms out.  The women embraced, careful not to muss each other’s hair. 

“Carys, you look well.  Only you could return from the dead with such grace and style.”

“You flatter me,” she laughed.  “You remember Ulrik?”

“Very well.” Amunet’s dark eyes set upon him, and he recalled the last night the three of them had spent together with an uncomfortable shift. 

“Always nice to see you, Amunet,” he said with a polite nod and nothing more.  Whatever he might’ve been up for in the past was definitely not on the menu for tonight, as far as he was concerned.  “I’m surprised to see you here.  The last time we met, I got the feeling you might not venture far from home for a while.”  More like scared of running into Lodinn, but Bishop supposed the news of his death had traveled even to her corner of the world.

“You’ve seen each other recently?” Carys asked.  There might’ve been a touch of jealousy in Carys’ voice, even though she’d been happy enough to share him among her friends before. 

“It was in San Francisco, she came to see Jakob,” he said quickly before she read more into it than there was. 

“Yes, and you were there on our hunting expedition.  Such a lovely time,” Amunet sighed.  “And I’m forever in your debt for the role you played in Lodinn’s demise.”

His hands came up.  “Nope, that was all Anja’s doing.  I was only there to watch.”

Carys’ brow puckered in confusion.  “I thought Jakob slew Lodinn.”

“That’s the official story, but Jakob was down for the count before Anja saved the day.” 

“That sounds like a fascinating tale,” Amunet smiled.  She might’ve said more, but Bishop was utterly distracted by Anja’s arrival. 

She came into the ballroom on Rob’s arm, but Bishop couldn’t have said what he wore, he only had eyes for Anja.  He’d seen her in many a beautiful dress before, but never like this.  Dressed in a nineteenth century costume, her gown seemed to be made of sunlight – she was that dazzling. 

Once he’d wondered what she would look like in a proper corset and elegant finery, and this far surpassed any dreams.  The dress accentuated her cinched waist and then swept over her hips and legs in yards of billowy fabric that she managed with elegant grace.  Her hair was gathered back from her face with glittering pins, golden hair spilling down her back in soft ringlets his fingers ached to touch. 

And there above the creamy swell of her breasts sat his necklace, the one he’d given her after his trip to the museum.  She laughed then, her face alight with goodness and beauty and his chest tightened painfully. 

She was magnificent. 

“Ulrik…”  Carys nudged him back to the real world when he didn’t answer.  “Bishop, the story?”

“What?” he blinked, the spell broken, and he could breathe again.  “Oh, sorry.”  His attention drew back to Anja as if she’d pulled him to her with an invisible string, but when he found her again, she was swirling around the dance floor with Rob, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. 
Shit
… what was he doing?  What was he supposed to be talking about?  “The story, right.”  Bishop managed to pull himself together and tell the bare bones of the story of Lodinn’s death.  The agreed upon version, anyway, where none of them had dealt the killing blows but Jakob. 

Bishop was about to excuse himself to go get a drink, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder and he turned to find Anja standing there with a huge smile on her face. 

“Permission to come aboard, Cap’n Tightpants,” she drawled, snapping him a salute.

Anja was the first one to make the connection with what he’d dressed as for the party.  Carys had called him a farmer when she’d seen the suspenders, and Rush had thought he was a cowboy from the pistol he had strapped to his thigh. 

“Permission granted,” he grinned back, drinking in her smile like sunlight.  “What do you think?”  Bishop swirled the brown coat free and his hand hovered over the gun as if ready to draw.  “Nothing combines the past with the future like space cowboy.  Do you like it?”  For some reason, it was awfully important to him to have gotten it right.

“Do I like it?  Are you kidding?  I’m ready to stab you with a toothpick and steal it for myself,” she gushed, and a rush of warmth spread through his chest.  “Is that what I think it is?”  She pointed to the replica pistol he’d had to get overnighted to him at a huge expense, but it was worth it to see her face. 

“Yep.  Almost didn’t get here in time.”

“Can I touch it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, handing it over to her butt first.  Anja took it in her hands reverently, as if she held the Holy Grail, not a movie prop from a now defunct sci-fi series.  “Rob,” he nodded to the man that he’d only just realized was standing there. 

“Bishop.”  Rob returned the simple greeting, nodding politely to Anja when she showed him the gun. 

“All this fuss over a pistol that doesn’t work,” Carys sniffed.  “How quaint you look, sister dear,” she added with a frosty stare. 

“Beautiful,” Bishop was quick to add.

Anja’s eyes narrowed at Carys for a moment, but she kept her composure, turning to Bishop with a smile.  “Thanks, I’m supposed to be Christine from…”

“
Phantom of the Opera
, I know.”  He’d realized it as soon as he’d seen her dancing in it.  A fitting costume if ever there was one – but did that make him the hero or the phantom?

Her eyes widened in surprise.  “I didn’t think that was one you were familiar with.”

“It was on the list you sent me.”

“So were a lot of things you didn’t watch,” she scolded and he had to agree with a self deprecating laugh.

“I for one decided to go with something more modern,” Carys declared, even though no one had asked.  “Can you guess who I am?”

Anja didn’t have to think for very long before she replied.  “Marilyn Monroe from
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
, right?  Or are you going for Madonna?” 

Was that who Carys was supposed to be?  The pink dress had looked familiar, but he hadn’t put it together before.  There were still a ton of movies he’d never gotten around to watching, and that one hadn’t been at the top of his list. 

“Marilyn Monroe, of course!  I thought to choose her because she is the most powerful woman in recent history.”

“I think Margaret Thatcher or Oprah might disagree with you there,” Anja frowned, but Carys waved her objection away.

“I agree, the Oprah is a formidable woman, but Marilyn captured the hearts of men the world over.  That is why they had her killed.”

“
Shénme
?”  Anja turned to Bishop in puzzlement.  “What kind of history have you been teaching her?”

Bishop cleared his throat.  “She’s been watching the Oxygen network.”  The documentary there had been more lurid than factual.

“Ah, ’nough said.” Anja nodded in understanding.  “Well, you look great.  That style really suits you, and who doesn’t look great in diamonds, right?”

“Thank you.  I do quite like these clothes.”  Carys smoothed her hands over her curves with a smug smile.  “Do you think I should always dress like this, Ulrik?” 

No matter that Carys knew she was gorgeous, it amused Bishop that she still craved his approval.  He realized that maybe he’d been paying Anja too many compliments and he felt a pang of guilt.  It made him lean in and kiss Carys’ bare shoulder for an extra gesture of validation.  “It’s a little fancy for my tastes, but I love you no matter what you’re wearing.

“Or not wearing?” she added with an arch smile.

“Amunet, you’re looking shiny this evening,” Anja said suddenly, her smile overly bright.  “That’s a killer costume.”  

“Thank you.”  Amunet inclined her head gracefully.  “Your dress truly is stunning as well.  And you’re looking fine this evening, Rob,” she added with a predatory smile.

“Thank you, Highness, you look lovely as always,” Rob said with a respectful bow of the head.  

If Amunet noticed that neither of the men were particularly receptive to her overtures, she gave no sign of it, her face as serene as always.  “Ulrik was regaling us with the tale of your heroism in Lodinn’s demise.”

Anja’s eyes widened, and she shot Bishop an accusatory stare that made him back up a step.  “I just told the truth.”

“The truth is, Jakob killed him, I only helped set the stage for it,” Anja said in a low voice.

“And saved Jakob’s life in the bargain,” Rob spoke up.

Carys’ smile became brittle.  “Is there anything you can’t do, my dear?”

“That wasn’t me, it was Maeja’s gift.  It’s not like I have the ability to heal anyone on my own,” Anja insisted, changing the subject.  “Rob, why don’t you ask Amunet to dance?”

“I… would love to,” Rob responded after a beat, offering her his hand.  “Amunet, would you like to…”

“Anywhere you care to lead me,” she replied, slipping her hand into his. 

“Such a handsome couple they make,” Carys smiled, but before he could say anything, Anja grabbed Bishop by the elbow and dragged him about twenty feet away while Carys stared after them.  He was going to have to pay for that later.  

“Hey, what’s the big idea making me out to be some kind of a hero?” Anja demanded in a harsh whisper.

Was that what was bothering her?  “I was only telling it like it is.  It’s not my fault you kept doing heroic stuff.”

“You didn’t have to go on and on about it though.  Can’t you tell you’re ticking Carys off?”

“Carys?”  His eyes flicked up to see she was still watching them intently.  “What would she have to be mad about?  Lodinn’s dead because of you.”

“That doesn’t mean she wants it rubbed in her face.  She’s the kind of girl who doesn’t like owing anything to anyone.  You get that, right?  Any kind of praise you give me is going to make her hate me more.”