My Lord Immortality

by Alexandra Ivy

  Covertly glancing out of the corner of her eye, she noted the small group of men determinedly headed down the alley. Their obvious lack of stealth and steady pace clearly indicated their identity at once.

  “The Watch,” she breathed in unsteady tones.

  She heard the vampire growl, but his expression remained one of evil intent. “You think I fear any mortal? They are mere fodder.” He paused for a long moment. “Still, they do have their uses.”

  Amelia eyed him in wary terror. Could he possibly kill so many? Or was he simply attempting to keep her from calling out for help?

  “What uses?”

  Without warning, the monster reached beneath his coat to remove a long, blue scarf.

  “A little memento I intend to leave upon my latest morsel.”

  “A scarf?”

  His soft laughter was more horrifying than his earlier threats.

  “A scarf quite exquisitely embroidered with your brother’s name.”

  Amelia grasped the tree to keep herself from falling to the ground in fear. She, of course, now recognized the scarf. She had given it to William for his birthday only months ago. Gads, she had even been the one to embroider his name upon it.

  “You beast,” she hissed in fury.

  “If you desire to save your brother from the hangman, you will bring me the amulet. You know where to find me.”

  Before Amelia could even form an answer there was a cold chill in the air and the man before her was suddenly cloaked in a heavy shadow.

  “No . . .”

  She stepped forward, but she already knew it was too late. Although she could make out no more than a fluid blackness as it moved toward the unmoving form on the ground, she knew beyond a doubt it was Mr. Ramone as he placed the scarf upon his victim. Even worse, the lanterns were far too close for her to have even a small chance of darting from behind the tree and retrieving the incriminating evidence without being seen.

  Surely it would only make William appear even more guilty if she were seen taking the scarf away?

  Dazed with shock, fear, and a blossoming dread, Amelia simply watched as the approaching men neared.

  Dear lord, what was she to do?

  Sebastian returned to his home in a dark fury.

  He longed to indulge the passions that pulsed through his blood. To stalk the streets fiercely until he had his hands on Drake. Preferably about his neck.

  Instead, he walked into the kitchen and restlessly paced the confines of the narrow kitchen.

  He had been a fool, he acknowledged grimly. For all his concern for Amelia, and even for himself, he had never once thought that Drake would strike at him through his innocent housekeeper.

  But then again, why should he? There was no obvious gain to be made by such a ruthless act. The servant had been unaware of his true nature, as well as Drake’s. And certainly she had no interest in the Medallion.

  Bloody hell. Why would Drake have lured the elderly woman to the very midst of the stews? And more to the point, why would he have left her hovering near death to suffer for hours as the last of the blood slowly drained from her body?

  Was it a warning? If so, it had been utterly unnecessary.

  Or had it been an attempt to distract him? And if so, from what?

  The question continued to gnaw at him as he paced from the heavy table to the rack of drying herbs. It was not until a sudden intuition about Amelia permeated his body that he came to an abrupt halt. Something was wrong. He could sense her sharp discomfort, as her presence grew ever closer.

  With swift movements he was at the door and pulling it open to watch as the maiden rushed through his narrow garden with her obviously reluctant brother in tow.

  “Amelia,” he called softly, instinctively searching for any hint of Drake in the vicinity. There was a faint sense of him in the distance, but nothing that could threaten Amelia at the moment.

  He stepped aside as she continued to bowl forward, not pausing until she was through the door and steering her sleepy brother toward the table. Even then she continued to fuss over her brother, pulling open a large bag she had set beside the chair and placing a battered blanket about his shoulders.

  “William, I need you to stay here while I speak with Mr. St. Ives,” she said in low tones.

  “William tired,” the boy muttered, laying his head upon the table.

  Sebastian’s heart gave an odd twitch as he watched Amelia reach out to softly stroke her brother’s hair.

  “I know, darling. Just rest here for a bit and I will soon be back.”

  Slowly straightening, Amelia turned to meet Sebastian’s worried gaze. He had only to note the pallor of her complexion and the unmistakable glitter of fear in her beautiful eyes to have him abruptly striding forward to take her hands in his own.

  “Amelia.” A soft snore from William stirred the thick air and with an impatient glance at the sleeping young man, he pulled Amelia’s arm through his own. “Come with me.”

  In silence they moved through the dark house, heading directly for the library. Once there, he pressed her into a chair and swiftly poured a large measure of brandy. Returning with the filled glass, he pressed it into her nerveless fingers and crouched beside the chair so he could closely watch her tense features.

  “Tell me, my dear, what has happened?”

  She sucked in a shuddering breath. “It was . . . Mr. Ramone.”

  Sebastian bit back the curses that threatened to spill from his lips. “What has he done? Did he harm you?”

  “No, I am well.”

  She did not sound as if she were well. It did not take the heightened senses of a vampire to hear the raw panic in her voice.

  “Bloody hell.” Sebastian shoved a hand through the hair that lay loose about his shoulders. “I should have known it was a trap from the beginning.”

  Surprisingly, a hint of sympathy touched the pale face. “Your housekeeper?”

  “Yes. She is gone.”

  Amelia reached out a hand to lightly touch his arm. “Oh, Sebastian, I am sorry.”

  He shook his head. He would have to save his regrets for later. For now he had to concentrate upon Amelia.

  “Tell me of Mr. Ramone. What did he do?”

  There was a short pause as she took a deep drink of the brandy, coughing and sputtering as the fiery liquid slid down her throat. At last she lifted her haunted gaze.

  “I was in bed when I heard a noise in the garden. I went out to see what was occurring.”

  “Damn it all, Amelia,” he burst out before he could stop the words. “When will you learn a measure of caution?”

  Her lips thinned at his frustrated chiding. “It is very fortunate that I did go out to investigate. Mr. Ramone was there and he . . .”

  The words stumbled to a halt and Sebastian’s brief flare of annoyance faded at her barely hidden distress.

  “What is it?”

  “I think he had just murdered another young woman.”

  “Oh, Amelia.” He reached up to cover the fingers that still lingered upon his arm. “I am sorry you had to witness such a ghastly thing.”

  “It was horrible.” A shudder raced through her body. “I do not think I have ever been so frightened.”

  Sebastian frowned, struck by a pang of guilt. “I should have been there. What did he do?”

  She shook her head, as if attempting to rid herself of the horrible memory.

  “I was hidden behind the tree, but somehow he seemed to know I was there. He turned and came toward me and I could see the blood upon his lips. He was drinking her blood.”

  “Oh, my dear.”

  There was a wrenching silence before she met his steady gaze. “Did you know, Sebastian?”

  He stiffened at the unexpected question. “Know?”

  “That he is a vampire,” she demanded, closely regarding his expression. Far too closely, he ruefully acknowledged, as her eyes slowly widened. “You did.”

  Sebastian grimaced, realizing it would be impo
ssible to lie. Damn Drake. His revelation threatened to reveal the truth about himself. Just when she needed to trust in him the most.

  “Yes.”

  “How?” Her fingers tightened upon his arm. “How did you know?”

  “That is something we can discuss later,” he forced himself to say in firm tones. “For now, I need to know what occurred.”

  She shivered as she pressed deeper into the soft leather of her seat. “He admitted that he was the one who had committed the murders. Then, he told me he wanted my amulet.”

  “Your amulet?”

  Her brows furrowed together. “He claimed that it was a piece of some Medallion that belongs to the vampires.”

  His glance instinctively lowered to where the amulet glowed against her pale skin. Pale skin that was all too temptingly revealed by her thin nightrail.

  “I note that you did not give it to him.”

  Her expression hardened abruptly. “I wish I had.”

  The fierce words sent a chill down Sebastian’s spine. That was the one thing he could not allow. He swiftly lifted his gaze to study her glittering eyes.

  “What did he do to you, Amelia?”

  “He heard the Watch approaching and before I could stop him, he had pulled out a scarf and left it upon the dead body.”

  “What manner of scarf?”

  The dark eyes glistened with tears. “One that I had given to William for his birthday. It has his name embroidered upon it.”

  Sebastian sat back on his heels. Blessed Nefri. Drake had clearly known precisely where to strike. This maiden would give up everything, including her own soul, if it would save her brother from the gallows.

  “I see,” he muttered.

  Her shoulders trembled as she battled to control her chaotic emotions. “I dared not attempt to retrieve the scarf. If they had spotted me, it would only have made them certain William was guilty.”

  Gently he reached for the forgotten glass of brandy and set it aside, and then, careful not to startle her, he grasped her cold hands in the warmth of his own.

  “You did right, Amelia.”

  A lone tear slid down her pale cheek. “Did I? Once the Watch discovers that scarf they will come for my brother. I knew that I could not stop them this time. They would take him away and there was nothing I could do.”

  Sebastian squeezed her fingers, fiercely regretting the fearful misery etched upon her countenance. At the moment he would have gladly thrashed Drake Ramone. And Nefri as well, for ever having forced Amelia into such danger.

  “But you did do something,” he said softly. “You came to me.”

  She glanced briefly about the shadowy library, as if not quite certain what had prompted her to flee so hastily to his home. Silently he willed his own strength to bolster her flagging courage.

  “I did not know where else to turn. I simply packed a few belongings and told Mrs. Benson to inform anyone who might call that William and I left London yesterday to visit my parents.”

  “Quite clever of you, my dear,” he assured her.

  “But now what?” With an effort she attempted to gather her badly shattered nerves. “We cannot simply remain here forever.”

  Quickly rising to his feet, Sebastian firmly tugged her hands until she was standing before him. With great care he wrapped his arms about her and rested his cheek upon the top of her hair.

  He deeply disliked seeing her so weary and frightened. He preferred his brave, proud Amelia with the flashing dimples and stubborn determination.

  “That will not be necessary, I assure you, my dear,” he soothed in low tones. “For tonight just know that you are safe.”

  A shudder raced through her as she laid her head against his chest. “Yes.”

  He breathed in deeply of her fresh, tantalizing scent. She felt small and dangerously fragile pressed next to his much larger frame, but it was somehow . . . right. As if he had just been made complete in a manner he had never before comprehended.

  For long moments he simply held her close, marveling at the golden warmth swirling through his body. A warmth that had nothing to do with lust, or the thrill of a hunter who had captured his prey. This tender heat was far more powerful. And far more dangerous.

  He thrust aside the disturbing notion.

  “I will protect you, Amelia,” he swore, his arms instinctively tightening. “That I promise you.”

  She tilted her head back to look into his darkened eyes. “Sebastian?”

  “Just relax,” he urged. “You do not have to be strong now. Do you want more brandy?”

  “No.” She regarded him for a long moment before uneasily wetting her lips. “Sebastian, I want . . . no, I need the truth. I cannot bear the horrible uncertainty any longer.”

  Sebastian regarded her warily. He had known from the moment that she had revealed her knowledge of Drake that soon enough she would question his own purpose in London. She was too intelligent not to realize there had to be some connection.

  And yet, he still found himself hesitating.

  He told himself it was because he feared that she would no longer trust him. That perhaps she might flee from him and expose herself to even more danger.

  But he knew that was not the entire truth.

  The fear ran much deeper. And perilously close to his heart.

  “What truth?” he at last managed to inquire in husky tones.

  “Who are you?”

  Chapter 9

  Sebastian discovered himself floundering beneath her serious gaze. How the blazes did he answer such a question?

  That he was a scholar? A student of philosophy who until the past few weeks had preferred to observe life from a distance rather than tossing himself in the messy business? That he was an immortal vampire? A dark, passionate monster who could destroy her with ridiculous ease?

  Or that he was a gentleman who was growing increasingly enchanted with her sweetness?

  In the end he made a cowardly attempt to prolong the inevitable.

  “I have not lied to you, Amelia,” he said in careful tones. “I am truly Sebastian St. Ives.”

  A faint frown tugged at her brows. “But you have revealed nothing else.”

  “What do you wish to know?”

  Her gaze searched his face, as if seeking to discern whether he could be trusted or not.

  “You will answer my questions?”

  “To the best of my ability.”

  There was a long pause before she firmly pulled herself from his grasp and crossed her arms protectively about her waist. Sebastian experienced a pang of loss without her warmth next to him. With an effort he battled the urge to swoop forward and return her to where she obviously belonged. Perhaps it would be for the best not to have his head clouded with the passion she always inspired.

  “You know Mr. Ramone?”

  He gave a reluctant nod of his head. “For a very long time.”

  “Did you follow him to London?”

  “I did,” he admitted.

  She sucked in a steadying breath and he could feel the struggle being waged within her heart. She had said that she needed the truth, but Sebastian realized that deep within her she dreaded what that truth might mean.

  Perhaps she already suspected that he was not precisely what he pretended to be.

  “Did you follow him because you suspected that he was a vampire?” she demanded in commendably steady tones.

  “Because I knew that he was dangerous and needed to be watched,” Sebastian hedged.

  She tested his vague words, clearly not satisfied with his brief explanation.

  “Is that what you do? Hunt vampires?”

  He swallowed a rather hollow urge to laugh at her absurd accusation. Whatever her lovely sense of wit, he was quite certain that she would fail to find the humor in the situation.

  “Not at all,” he assured her. “As I said, I am a scholar, nothing more.”

  “But . . .”

  “Amelia,” he swiftly broke into her confusio
n. “Following Mr. Ramone was only part of the reason that I traveled to London.”

  She stilled, seemingly caught off guard by his confession. Once again her tongue peeked out to dampen her lips, revealing the unsettled nerves that she was so desperately attempting to disguise.

  “What was the other part?”

  He took a cautious step closer to her. He wanted to be nearby because of the very real possibility that she might suddenly feel the need to bolt.

  “You,” he said softly.

  Her eyes widened in shock. “Me? Why?”

  “I knew that you possessed the amulet.”

  A gasp echoed through the air as Amelia hastily clutched the amulet about her neck. She did not even seem aware of the protective motion, although Sebastian noted it with a sense of satisfaction. Amelia might not understand the power of the Medallion, but she was clearly not willing to hand it over.

  Most reassuring.

  “You desire my necklace?” she demanded.

  “Be at ease, Amelia.” He lifted a comforting hand. “I do not covet the amulet as does Mr. Ramone. My only interest is ensuring that it does not fall into his hands.”

  She continued to eye him warily, her fingers still tightly gripping the Medallion.

  “How could you possibly have known that I possessed the amulet?”

  He carefully considered his response. Blast, but he felt as if he were waltzing through a quagmire. One misstep could ruin his tenuous relationship with this woman forever.

  “I was told it was given to you.”

  “By the Gypsy?” She frowned, then gave a pained shake of her head. “No, Mr. Ramone claimed that she was not a Gypsy at all, but a vampire.”

  The brief but revealing display of her confused vulnerability struck fiercely at Sebastian’s heart. Standing there in the thin muslin nightrail with her tousled raven curls, she appeared to be little more than a child. Far too young and fragile to bear the burdens she had been forced to shoulder.

  Worst of all, he had no notion of how to make any of this easier to endure.

  Not when he was destined to cause her even more grief.

  He winced before grudgingly squaring his shoulders. He could avoid the unwelcome revelations no longer.