The Reluctant Miss Van Helsing

by Minda Webber

  Asher could feel his mouth watering. No doubt, the gown had been a gift from Clair, the intention to whet his appetites. How he wished Clair were before him, for if it were she, he understood clearly how differently the night would end. But he clenched down angrily on his hurt and his carnal urges, driving them far away, his expression hardening like that other part of his body that was betraying him.

  When her husband entered the room, Jane turned to him, then rose, unaware of the feelings she was engendering. Slowly she started toward him, feeling a great need to touch his body. His deep blue dressing gown was open to the waist, revealing a long expanse of pale yet muscular flesh.

  "Hello, husband," she said softly, her eyes greedily traveling over him. Neil Asher was the most beautiful creature in the world. And he was hers! She noted vaguely that his fangs were exposed ever so slightly, but that was not all.

  "I would prefer you not address me that way," he said.

  "But we are married."

  "To my eternal and utter disbelief and disgust."

  "That's rather good. Keep it up and you'll be in your coffin long before sunrise," Jane remarked curtly, hiding the hurt his words caused.

  Ignoring her, Asher went on, "I never thought to get caught by the parson's mousetrap—especially not by a slice of Van Helsing cheese." Glaring at her, he leaned against the bedpost, but the movement caused his dark blue robe to fall open. Revealed was a fleshy stake, much like the Van Helsing model six.

  Jane gasped in stunned and curious amazement. Her eyes flew upward to her husband's face and caught a flash of fury there. Instantly, as if someone had wiped a cloth down his features, all hint of emotion on Asher's features was wiped away. He became still, deadpan. But, then, her husband did deadpan better than anyone she knew; he had a leg up on them by being dead to begin with.

  "Madame. I came to announce what will happen tomorrow," Asher stated tersely, snapping his robe closed and belting it. It was amazing; it did appear that his wife's breasts might be even larger than Clair's, although he had never seen Clair's in this type of a situation.

  Jane stepped back. With her groom in the room, it seemed immeasurably smaller. He was so large, and his energy so intense, the chamber had narrowed considerably as if by magic. And that portion of him was certainly quite big—big and interesting.

  "Yes, what about tomorrow?" she asked.

  "You will leave for the Wolverton town house tomorrow at first light. I want you to prepare the house for my return late tomorrow. Is that clear?"

  "I know my duty," Jane retorted. But she winced, stung by his icy tone. This was her wedding night—a night Jane had feared would never come to pass as the years slowly did. Asher should be holding her close and kissing her with his wondrous lips!

  Asher caught her small wince, and that her smile had faded completely. Satisfied he had wounded her, he pressed on. "Do you?" he asked with a contemptuous smile. "To whom is your duty, the grand and glorious Van Helsings? Or to your dearly beloved husband?"

  His bitterness filled the room like a gathering storm, causing Jane to despair. They could have a comfortable life together, if Asher would only relent a little.

  "Tonight, I became your wife," she said. "I took a solemn oath before God to you and no one else. My past is just that. It is left in the past where it belongs now, a dead issue."

  The earl cocked his head and studied her for long, tense moments. Jane had the urge to squirm, but she remained still, her eyes locked with his.

  Asher finally shook his head. Jane's eyes had depths, depths he'd not been prepared to find. But she could take her rotten little Van Helsing mysteries to the grave. "And you expect me to believe you? You, a Van Helsing! You must think me mad to believe such balderdash." Asher spat out the family name as if it were poison.

  Jane gritted her teeth and, undaunted, challenged this fire-breathing vampire, Her life was at stake here, her future happiness. She had to make him understand that she'd done what she had to do, what she'd been trained to do for the good of the world. "I apologize, Asher. But mistakes happen."

  "Mistakes happen? My life is over as I know it, and all you can say is, 'Mistakes happen'?"

  "I am sorry you were forced to marry beneath you, sorry you were forced to wed an enemy. Sorry I tried to stake you. But I didn't try to kill you, I just got scared when you began to bite me."

  "Ian explained it all," Asher said, acute distaste lacing his tone. "You were born and bred a Van Helsing, brought up to revile vampires. And I am a vampire. Not just your run-of-the-mill vampire, either; I am the master vampire of London—a title not easily gained. It took over a century for my appointment as leader of the London Nosferatu."

  Jane tried to say something, but Asher held up his long pale fingers, interrupting her. His expression was scornful and harsh.

  "You were taught to hunt, to stalk and to stake us. It is your heritage. So apologizing for your part in this stark-mad fiasco doesn't really matter, does it? It's a case of too little, too late!" Asher's manner one of total disgust, he paced the room.

  " 'Let me not burst in ignorance!' 'I do not set my life at a pin's fee.' 'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark'," he quoted coldly.

  Hurt and wounded in her heart and soul, Jane adeptly hid her pain, curtseying slightly and quoting back, " 'When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face-to-face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known'."

  "Corinthians?"

  She nodded.

  Asher said nothing for a moment, merely stared at Jane with one aristocratic brow slightly arched, impressed in spite of himself. She really was well versed in the classics, and for a Van Helsing she had some wit. Also, he couldn't help but feel a hint of admiration for his wife's adaptability and courage. In fact, if he didn't detest her so much, he might have been tempted to debate philosophies with her in bed after a long, carnal loving—virgin blood for an aperitif and a few love bites for dessert.

  Jane continued: "As of tonight, I am a child no longer but your bride. I am what I am, because of who and what I was. But now all that I am, I pledge to you and yours. My loyalty, my affection and all the talents I possess."

  Asher remarked ruthlessly, "Talents? Such as murdering vampires? Shall you teach me how to stake my species?"

  Tears filled her eyes. "I have never personally staked anyone before. To be honest… I have an aversion to blood."

  "The hell you say! A vampire slayer who doesn't like the sight of blood? What farce is this?"

  "It's the truth. The sight of blood makes me ill."

  He snorted, disbelieving. "Then it is a good thing that I am not taking you to bed. The sight of your virgin's blood might be your undoing."

  Her emotions in turmoil, Jane paled, feeling his rejection of her as a wife to the very depths of her soul. "I know you need no heir, nor can you beget one being hundreds of years of age, but I thought that you would at least want to…" She couldn't continue, a blush putting some color back into her white cheeks.

  "To have carnal relations with you? To take you to that bed over yonder and thrust into your soft, sweet body?" Asher had to repress a shiver at the image of his bride on her back with her pale thighs spread for his wanton enjoyment.

  Cursing himself to Hades nine ways and back, he was incensed to admit he was indeed interested in his plain little wife. It was not even fashionable! Lust should be reserved strictly for other men's wives. That was the way it had always been in the ton, and the way it would always be.

  "I think not. I do not trust you. Having a stake stuck in my backside during the courtship rather crimped my desire for lovemaking," he sneered. "And I give you fair warning, if you try to kill me, it will the last mistake of your sorry little life."

  "How droll, vicious wordplay on our wedding night," Jane retorted. "However, I gave my word before God, man, vampire and .werew
olves tonight in church, that I would honor, cherish and tend you. That word is my bond."

  She knew Asher was outraged. She knew he was bitter. And she recognized that he was more than justified. But surely her words made some effect on the steel armor of his heart? If not, her situation would be unbearable.

  Unthinkingly, she murmured her thoughts: "Will we ever do in the dark what husbands and wives do so duly do?" Her feet were freezing. Where had she put her slippers? Her husband loathed her. Life was certainly not much of an improvement as the Countess of Wolverton. When her husband left, she would cry.

  Asher laughed, a sound which could cut glass. "I've made love to half the known beauties of the world. After all that lovely flesh, what could I possibly find in your bed?" he said.

  Jane jerked back. "You pompous, callous monster. As if I want to share my bed with the undead. What a laugh!"

  "I'll make love to you Jane, when hell freezes over and elephants fly," he vowed. And with those damning words, Asher stalked toward the door. He knew a grand exit line when he'd spoken one.

  Before he escaped, Jane called out, "I didn't know that earls pouted. I thought that beneath their dignity."

  Asher halted abruptly, his back ramrod straight. He turned swiftly around. His eyes were blazing with pure blue fire. "Pout? You call this a pout? What I am, woman, is enraged. Which after the month's events I have every reason to be. I could have married royalty, had I wished to be wed at all. So don't goad me!"

  Her tears dried, Jane faced him squarely, her temper coming into its own. "Don't mock me, then!" she warned.

  Asher ran a hand through his hair, mussing the perfect lines. Once again, his wife had caused him to lose his composure. "You don't think you deserve to be mocked? To be despised for forcing this disastrous misalliance upon us?"

  Anger overwhelmed her wounded heart. Stalking forward, Jane stuck her finger in his face. "Don't say things you'll regret," she snarled.

  "How can I regret the truth? Don't you ever look in the mirror?"

  "What, mirror envy?" she asked. He ignored her.

  "What do you have to recommend you, Jane?"

  "I have me to offer," Jane stated proudly, patting her chest. "Me to recommend. What you can't see is the best of me, and you're a fool for only admiring surface beauty. I am so much more than you deserve," she realized.

  Asher was taken aback by her impassioned words, her green-silver eyes flashing molten emerald fires. But she wasn't finished yet.

  "You have lived a long, long time. You are a big vampire now. You know life isn't always fair. Things can be harsh, and we don't always get our way. You can take out your hatred on me nightly. But what will that accomplish besides finally resulting in me despising you? Then we will be two strangers, hating each other, stuck together until I die. Is that what you want—open warfare in your home? I know I don't!"

  Asher started to speak, then halted. She was magnificent when maddened! He turned to leave again. No Van Helsing was going to make him see reason on his wedding night. If he wanted to pace and curse fate until daylight, then that was just what he was going to do. It didn't matter that his bride had luscious breasts and a swanlike neck. It didn't matter that she smelled of warm honey and sweet orange blossoms. He snorted indignantly and opened the bedchamber door to flee.

  Jane again called out to him. "Lord Asher, one more thing, please. I need to ask you something important."

  With one hand on the door he glanced back at her, his mouth drawn in tight lines. She looked like she hated to ask him for anything, but was driven by despair.

  "Yes?"

  "I need to bring my pet Orville to Town. He is causing havoc without me at the Van Helsing estate."

  "Orville?"

  Embarrassed, Jane explained, "My pet ostrich."

  "You have an ostrich for a pet?" Asher asked, intrigued in spite of himself. That was the kind of a pet Clair Frankenstein would have.

  She nodded. "My grandfather brought him to me when Orville was just a hatchling. I am his mother. But the major hates him. He said he would chop off his head and stuff him if we didn't let Orville come and live with us immediately."

  "Your father is quite good at killing things, isn't he?" Asher retorted mockingly. The backstabbing bastard. Glaring hard at his small, voluptuous wife, Asher decided the fruit didn't fall far from the tree. Even if her fruits were entrancing.

  "Please. Orville has done nothing to earn your enmity," Jane beseeched. She loved Orville as much as she loved Spot, her dog. She couldn't live without her two pets near her. Originally she had planned on asking this favor of her husband after they had made love, because Clair had advised her all husbands were putty in their wives' hands after a rigorous bout of lovemaking. However, since she doubted hell was going to come into an ice age anytime in the near future, and espying no flying elephants out her bedroom window, Jane had little choice but to place her request before this cruel, indignant vampire now.

  Swallowing what little dignity she had left, Jane pleaded, despising herself for groveling. But love for her pets was stronger than her pride, humiliation or anger. "Please. I beg you. Let Orville come to London with his keeper, Bert."

  "You have the nerve to request a favor of me? After all you have done?" How queer, he mused, an ostrich for this silly goose. It was another surprising facet to his wife's nature. He wondered what else was in store over the long years of matrimony ahead.

  "Please!"

  "What utter unmitigated gall you Van Helsings have!" he snapped. And with those words, he threw open the door.

  "Asher, please!"

  He turned and paused, then finally nodded. Then, glancing down at her feet, he remarked with surprise, "Is that a spider I see?"

  Jane screamed, and she jumped a good two or three feet off the floor. "Where? Where?" Glancing back to the door, she saw her husband disappear down the hall, chortling.

  The sneaky vampire had lied to her. There was no spider. Slamming the door shut, Jane could still hear his chuckles. "Well, I guess that's that. The honeymoon is over."

  Waking Neil, Divine

  It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.

  Yes, Jane thought, as she walked down the hallway; Charles Dickens was right, and he had accurately described her first four days as the vampire's bride.

  Asher had been conspicuously absent, leaving Jane to her own devices in his majestic Town home and in the massive ornamental gardens outside. Jane frowned, knowing her husband was avoiding her as though she had the coughing sickness—or that she was someone who had tried to stab him in the back.

  Asher had communicated with her only twice, by note sent on a bronze platter. Jane recognized that the action was a small way to demean her. Asher was an inventive vampire. It was almost scary to think of all the small ways he could demean her in their married life to come. He was so thoroughly ignoring her now, she had began to despair of ever having a chance to set things right. Still, men liked to pout, even her brother Brandon.

  She knew she could be strong in the face of adversity. Her father had taught her that lesson early. It was odd: The more things changed, the more they remained the same.

  She only wished she were smarter. How could she care for a vampire who so obviously held her in contempt? Jane liked the fact that Asher was a handsome creature who knew his own worth. He was a pleasure to watch and to look upon. She admired his dignity and his loyalty, when he chose to give it. Her husband had a droll wit and a fine mind. He was interesting and exciting. She was intrigued by the mystery of him, and bound by an invisible pull that kept butterflies tickling her stomach whenever he was near, which unfortunately was rare since their a
bortive wedding night. She was definitely ready for the "for better" part of married life.

  Yet, in spite of her recent travails, hope sprang eternal in her breast. She was finally married, a feat she had truly feared would never happen. In years of exile at the Van Helsing country estate, Jane had often envisioned herself at forty, an old maid, leaping out at strange men with large fangs, lurking about servants quarters, listening to maids gossiping about where their mistresses' love bites were strategically placed, and just who had placed them. Often, late in the night, Jane had seen the dreary years marching by, while she made endless trips to the church filling bottomless vials of holy water. Countless trips to countless cemeteries had haunted her dreams. And really, when a person had seen one big yard full of dirt holes, she had seen them all.

  But now, her whole world was changed. She had a new life, and she was not going to let some pesky detail like her husband's intense dislike of her stop her from making a good marriage based on trust and affection.

  Although his company was not the best, the same could not be said for Asher's London residence. The house was an imposing structure, four stories tall, with a steeply pitched gabled roof done in pale red. Large iron balconies lined the second- and third-story windows. She had wonderful times exploring her new home, to her heart's content and to Renfield's disgust.

  The elaborate mansion was located on the outskirts of London, with extensive formal gardens that were well maintained. Marble statues of alabaster white and cerulean blue, with ornate flowing fountains, were placed strategically around a lovely wooded area. The area abounded with birds of all kinds, from robin redbreasts to softly cooing doves. Jane had been ecstatic upon first spying them. Not only could she traipse about and watch birds to her heart's content, but the gardens were also big enough that Orville would have plenty of room to run, play and terrorize anyone foolish enough to bring food anywhere near him.

  All, in all, the Wolverton London home was magnificent; and unbelievably Jane was mistress of the impressive domain. She had even caught herself pinching her arm last night to see if she was dreaming. When she was a small girl, she'd dreamed of being mistress of just such a place, and of being cherished and adored by a devoted husband.