My Lord Immortality

by Debbie Raleigh

  A most ridiculous blush threatened to rise to her cheeks. She could only wish that she deserved the obvious admiration in the silver eyes.

  "To be truthful, this has all happened so swiftly I have not had proper time to think clearly," she admitted with grudging honesty.

  His hand gently brushed her face. "You are not even furious you were put at risk by being bonded with the Medallion?"

  "How could I be?" She offered an unconsciously wistful smile.

  His fingers tightened. "What do you mean?"

  "If not for the Medallion, we should never have met."

  "Amelia..."

  Whatever he was about to say was interrupted as Mrs. Benson bustled back into the room, her attention so consumed with her duties that she did not even note the couple who were standing far too close for propriety.

  "All right, then, be off with you," she muttered, flapping her hands in their direction. "I can't be making proper muffins with a crowded kitchen."

  Amelia sighed.

  She could think of any number of things that she desired at this moment.

  Unfortunately, muffins were not one of them.

  Eleven

  Amelia stood at the entrance to her brother's chamber. With her arms folded across her waist, she attempted to appear stern, but she could not prevent her lips from trembling with suppressed amusement.

  Tucked in his bed, William had his eyes tightly squeezed shut in an effort to convince her that he was soundly asleep. It was an effort that was bound to fail. Not only did he ruin the effect by frequently opening one eye to determine if she were still there, but he had pulled the heavy blanket up to his chin.

  On a night such as this, no one could desire to smother themselves in covers. Thick, stifling heat had choked London for the past two days; long after the sun had set, the unpleasant warmth remained.

  She suspected that poor William must be roasting beneath his blanket.

  "Already asleep, William?" she asked softly, crossing the room toward the bed.

  The eyes squeezed tighter as William clutched the blanket higher.

  "Sleeping," he muttered.

  "Ah, that is too bad. I had thought perhaps you would like a story before bed."

  His nose wrinkled as he considered the delightful treat. There were few things he preferred more than a thrilling story of knights and dragons before bed.

  "Sleeping," he retorted reluctantly.

  She moved ever closer to the bed. "Mmm. I suppose I can wait until tomorrow to tell you of Sir William and the magic sword."

  One eye popped open. "Magic?"

  "Oh, yes. A very, very powerful magical sword. And a fortunate thing, too, since he had to defeat a wicked wizard."

  The other eye opened as her brother wavered. "Magic."

  "Of course, you probably aren't interested in how Sir William rode upon the black dragon to attack the wizard's tower."

  William wiggled, clearly torn between the danger of revealing his secret or missing the story of the brave knight.

  At last he heaved a sigh. "No."

  Coming to a halt at the edge of the bed, she peered down at his decidedly guilty countenance.

  "William, is it not too warm for such a heavy cover?"

  He clutched the blanket even tighter. "No."

  She swallowed the laughter that bubbled from within. "You are not, perchance, attempting to hide anything from me, are you?"

  Realizing his danger, William swiftly squeezed his eyes shut once again. "Sleeping."

  "Is there something under those covers, William?"

  In response, her brother offered a loud, entirely unconvincing snore.

  On this occasion Amelia could not suppress her gurgle of laughter. No one but William could brighten her mood with such ease.

  Well, perhaps there was one other, she conceded ruefully. But since Sebastian had determinedly returned to his habit of careful avoidance, it did not seem to matter. He was little more than a shadow that lurked about the town house.

  With an effort, Amelia thrust aside the thought of the elusive gentleman. It was not his fault that she had ridiculously allowed her feelings to become so entangled. Nor that he was destined to leave her heartbroken. He was simply doing what was necessary to protect his people.

  At least she would always have William, she staunchly reassured herself. His love would always be with her. Never faltering, never changing. It was a good deal more than many people could claim.

  Her smile returned as she gazed down at her brother, who continued to snore loudly. It was time to be done with this amusing charade.

  Reaching down, she tugged the blanket loose. William struggled, but it took only a moment before she had the cover off the bed and was meeting his sheepish gaze with a lift of her brows.

  "Well, William, what do you have to say for yourself?"

  He glanced down at the linen sheet littered with black kittens. "Cats."

  "So I see." She cocked her head to one side. "How do you suppose they got into your bed?"

  "Cats."

  "William." She offered an indulgent smile. She found it difficult to scold him when he looked like a naughty schoolboy. "You know that the kittens belong to their box in the kitchen. It was very kind of Mr. St. Ives to allow them into the house at all. It is not proper for you to take advantage of his generosity."

  His lower lip stuck out at the reprimand, but noting the firmness of her tone, he wisely did not press his luck.

  "Bad, William."

  "No, not bad," she swiftly corrected, gently replacing the blanket. "The kittens may remain tonight, but first thing in the morning I want them put back in the box where they belong. Is that understood?"

  His eyes brightened. "Morning."

  "That's right. Now go to sleep." Bending down, she brushed a kiss over his forehead watching as he snuggled into the mattress with his furry friends.

  With a shake of her head, Amelia turned to quietly leave the room. She should perhaps have insisted that William return the kittens to the kitchen immediately, but there seemed little harm in allowing them to remain for one night. It had been difficult enough to keep her brother a virtual prisoner for the past weeks. He should be allowed a few indulgences every now and then.

  Closing the door behind her, Amelia turned to make her way down the dark hall. Despite the lateness of the hour, she did not feel weary.

  Indeed, an odd sense of restlessness had plagued her throughout the day. It was rather like the feeling before a thunderstorm struck.

  Her smile faded as a shiver raced down her spine.

  There was something in the air. Something that was raising the hair on her nape and making bumps prickle over her skin.

  She unconsciously reached up to touch the amulet that seemed unnaturally warm against her damp skin.

  The night promised to be long, indeed.

  The screams echoed through the town house, bringing a thin smile to Drake's lips.

  Opening the door to the hidden chamber, he regarded the two maidens who were chained to the wall. Most would no doubt be amazed that the ragged, desperate women had only days ago been gracing the most elegant ballrooms in London. The satin gowns were now covered in dust and blood, the arrogant faces marred by stark desperation. In truth they appeared no better than the lowest peasants that littered the stews.

  Drake wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant scent that wafted from the chamber.

  He had deliberately chosen the two maidens. Not for their beauty, or their charm. After all, a mortal was a mortal. Just another animal. His only interest had been in the fact that they possessed the dark hair and small body that resembled Miss Amelia Hadwell.

  A flare of fury raced through his body. There had been a measure of pleasure in torturing the women. It had been quite easy to pretend that the screams that were wrenched from their throats belonged to the galling woman. That their pleas for mercy tumbled from the wench's lips. But the brief satisfaction was no longer enough.

  His various
ploys to lure Miss Hadwell to his home had come to naught. Because of the Medallion she was impervious to his powers of Compulsion. Furthermore, she refused to be charmed and she would not even be properly cowed.

  It was clearly time to use more direct methods.

  Tonight he would end this farce.

  Moving forward, he halted before the first woman, who sank to her knees in horror.

  "Please ..." she begged, straining against the heavy manacles that bound her wrists. "My father is very wealthy. He will pay you..."

  With a casual cruelty, Drake grasped a handful of her raven hair and jerked her head backward.

  "I have not given you permission to speak, creature," he snarled in disgust.

  "No, please ..."

  "Enough." Drake jerked her upward, annoyed with her tears. Mortals were so pathetically weak. "You have served your purpose. Now I fear I have need of your lovely accommodations. I have another maiden who I have awaited for far too long."

  The dark eyes widened with fearful hope. "You will release me?"

  "Oh, yes. You are about to be released," Drake mocked, his fangs lengthening in anticipation. "Are you prepared?"

  The hope remained in her eyes only long enough for her to witness the slow, relentless descent of his head.

  "No! No!"

  Her scream shuddered through the air as he sank his fangs deep into the firm skin of her neck. Drake fed upon her pain as intensely as he fed upon her blood. The shrill agony fueled his lust, stoking his passions to a fever pitch. All too swiftly, however, her pitiable struggles lessened to mere twitches. He sank his fangs deeper, draining the last of her life.

  Her body went limp and he tossed her aside. Slowly turning, he regarded the second captive with a glittering gaze. The woman was moaning, already sunk in fear so deep she was incapable of fighting. He paced to grasp her hair and force her upward. His features hardened with disgust as she continued to moan.

  Worthless creature. No courage, no dignity. Simply another maggot that cluttered the streets of London.

  Bending his head, he ruthlessly drained her of her life, taking little enjoyment in the kill. Soon, he silently promised himself. Soon he would have Amelia Hadwell in his clutches. He did not doubt for a moment that she would battle him to the bitter end. A sweet, fulfilling kill made all the sweeter by gaining command of the Medallion.

  Tossing the woman aside like a piece of rubbish, Drake produced a snowy linen handkerchief to wipe the blood from his lips. Then, reaching out with his thoughts, he called to the minions who waited above.

  Within moments he could hear the uneven scuffle of heavy boots upon the stairs. He moved toward the door as the two burly men entered. Only a few days before, the ruffians had been the undoubted rulers of the underworld. Brash, ill-tempered, with an ugly habit of killing those who opposed them, they had possessed little fear of the elegantly attired gentleman who had strolled into their dingy alley.

  They had still been laughing when he had reached out his hand to crush their minds. Now, under the grim grasp of his Compulsion, they no longer laughed. The broad faces were slack, their eyes devoid of intelligence. They would stand in place until death unless he commanded them into motion.

  "Take these bodies to the river," he ordered with a wave of his hand toward the dead maidens. "Then re-tarn here. We have a very busy night ahead of us."

  As if being jerked forward by invisible strings, the two henchmen crossed the cellar to obey his commands. Assured that his scheme was properly set into motion, Drake left the gruesome task to his servants.

  He needed to change into something more formal, he decided with a cold smile. Tonight he would gain command of the Medallion, and crown himself the ruler of all vampires. It was only fitting that he appear suitably magnificent.

  His soft laugh echoed eerily through the darkness.

  The heat was unbearable.

  Stripped to the waist, Sebastian left the closed con fines of his chambers. He was restless. The house slumbered in darkness as he silently prowled through the halls, but there was a hint of disquiet in the thick air. It was that barely discernible unease that made it impossible for him to settle down for the night.

  Perhaps he should seek out Drake, he thought as he pushed open the door to the library. If nothing else, he could reassure himself that the treacherous vampire was not plotting anything foul. Of course, that would mean leaving Amelia here alone. His heart gave a squeeze of alarm. No. He would not leave her unprotected. Not on this night.

  Stepping into the room showered in silvery moonlight, Sebastian moved toward the center before he came to a sudden halt.

  Just for a moment he wondered if his brooding thoughts of Amelia had conjured up her image. If so, they had managed to create a dangerously faultless illusion.

  His breath was stolen as he regarded her standing next to the window. The silver light bathed her slender form with a soft glow and shimmered on the long hair that flowed like satin down her back. The flimsy silken gown easily revealed the enticing curves of her body. She might have been a creature of moonbeams. A delicate nymph made of iridescent shadows.

  Then the warm, potent scent of her skin assaulted his senses and a shudder raced through him. No, this was no magical nymph, but a full-blooded woman who stirred his passions to a searing pitch.

  Sebastian struggled to rein in the hunger that flowed through his blood. A hunger that was dangerously close to overwhelming his reason.

  "Amelia," he called softly.

  No doubt already aware of his presence, she slowly turned to face him, her expression troubled.

  "Good evening, Sebastian."

  Instantly on alert, he moved forward, not stopping until he was a mere breath from her.

  "What is the matter, my dear?"

  Her gaze rested briefly on his bare chest before reluctantly lifting. "Nothing. I could not sleep, so I thought perhaps a book ..."

  The words trailed away as she moistened her lips in a revealing motion. Sebastian gritted his teeth, feeling the fierce awareness of her own smoldering desire. He should return to his chambers, he sternly warned himself. The heavy pulse of awareness was too potent on this night. It would take one glance, one touch for both of them to be consumed in flames.

  But even as he acknowledged the peril, he discovered himself lost in the dark beauty of her eyes.

  "Ah."

  "I am sorry if I woke you."

  "No, I was not asleep."

  The small pink tongue once again peeked out to touch the fullness of her lips. Sebastian swallowed a groan.

  "It is very warm, is it not?" she demanded in husky tones. "I do not recall a summer in London so smothering before."

  If it had been warm before, it was now blazing. A fine sheen of perspiration spread over his skin.

  "Yes, it is very warm. Do you dislike the heat?"

  "It can be discomforting," she admitted.

  His lips curved in wry acknowledgement. "Indeed."

  As if realizing he was speaking of more than the ternperature in the air, her absurdly long lashes fluttered downward. The hint of confusion was oddly erotic.

  "At least William is settled for the night. He was rather restless earlier."

  Sebastian sucked in a deep breath. The last thing in the world he desired to discuss was Amelia's brother. Not when she was standing mere inches from his stirring body. Not when the scent of her filled his senses. Not when he had only to lower his head to capture the sweet lips in a kiss that would sweep both of them into paradise.

  "I know that it is difficult for him to remain hidden," he followed her lead with an effort. "It is little wonder that he is restless."

  "Yes." She paused before wrinkling her nose. "I fear that he sneaked the kittens into his bed. It was very naughty of him and I have made him promise to return them to the kitchen the first thing in the morning. I hope you do not mind?"

  "Of course not." He regarded her pale complexion for a long moment. "You are very patient with him."
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  She lifted her gaze in surprise at his words. "He is my brother. And I love him."

  "You speak of it so casually, but such devotion is rare. I can think of no other maiden that I have ever encountered who would willingly surrender her own needs to ensure the happiness of another."

  A hint of color touched her cheeks. "That is absurd."

  "Is it? Tell me how many of your acquaintances are struggling to provide a home for their family rather than fluttering their way through the Season?"

  The blush only deepened. "Sebastian."

  Sebastian offered a slow smile. She would never admit that she had done anything extraordinary in saving her brother from the asylum.

  "Very well." His gaze shifted on its own to the provocative shimmer of her pale skin. The brief distraction had done nothing to ease the tension that throbbed between them. "I will leave you to find your book."

  He had every intention of turning to leave, but even as he sternly commanded his reluctant feet to move, she was reaching up to lay her hands softly upon the bare skin of his chest.

  "No. I... I do not wish to be alone."

  Sebastian froze, his throat closing as he battled the dark lust that flared through him. Not now, he fiercely warned his surging passions. Amelia was clearly troubled. She needed his strength, not his aching desire.

  Lifting his hands, he covered her fingers as they lay against him.

  "What is it, Amelia?"

  A frown tugged at her brows. "I do not know. It is ridiculous, but I cannot be at ease. There is something in the air that troubles me."

  Sebastian felt a measure of surprise. How could she possibly sense the vague threat that had plagued him throughout the day? Unless ... his gaze lowered to where the Medallion lay against her skin.

  "I will remain if you wish," he said in low tones.

  "Thank you."

  He regarded the dark, vulnerable eyes, his desire abruptly threaded with deep tenderness.

  "Shall I read to you the intriguing philosophies of Plato? Or do you prefer the teachings of Aristotle?" he teased.

  A prompt grimace eased her frown. "Neither."

  "Philistine," he chided.

  "I wish you to tell me of yourself."