“I had her walk to her sister’s with an obvious bag of belongings. Once there, she slipped out the back and into a hackney I had waiting. It is hoped that all will believe she is set to remain with her sister for some time.”
Despite her bemusement, Amelia discovered her more sensible self quite impressed with his ingenious plan.
“You truly are a very clever gentleman.”
His lips twisted at her words. “Not clever, merely desperate. I could not bear another day of eating my feeble efforts at cooking.”
She gave a sudden chuckle. In truth it would be lovely to have Mrs. Benson’s deft hand in the kitchen. The past few days she had existed on eggs and porridge with the occasional slice of ham to break up the monotony. Sebastian was undoubtedly a skilled, intelligent, fascinating vampire. He would never, however, be mistaken for a chef.
“It was not so bad,” she hedged with a flash of dimples.
His fingers moved to cup her chin, his expression amused. “What a terrible liar you are, my dear. You should always tell the truth.”
Her gaze searched over the male features that were so achingly familiar.
“While you give nothing away. It is very difficult to know what you are thinking.”
A fine tension settled in the air between them, a shimmering web that connected them more forcibly than any physical touch.
“No doubt that is for the best,” he murmured, his gaze reluctantly lifting to probe deep into her eyes.
“Why?”
He flinched at her question. “Amelia, we both know why.”
Of course they did. He was not a London gentleman in search of an on-the-shelf spinster. He was not even a gentleman in the general sense of the word. His only purpose was to ensure that the Medallion was protected. Once he had dealt with Mr. Ramone, he would return to his people and she would be no more than a distant memory.
While she . . . she would be alone again with no one but William to fill her days.
A thought that was far more depressing than it should be.
She lowered her lashes to hide the grief that lanced through her heart.
“Yes,” she said softly.
His fingers tightened, all too easily able to sense the pain she sought to keep secret.
“Oh, Amelia, please do not be unhappy,” he pleaded.
Knowing that she was only adding to his burdens, she stepped back briskly and tilted her chin to a firm angle.
She did not need his pity. That was the last thing she desired.
“I am not unhappy,” she lied bravely, “merely concerned. William and I cannot hide here forever.”
Although he could easily read her heart, Sebastian thankfully followed her lead to less dangerous waters. Folding his arms over his chest, he regarded her with a steady gaze.
“It will not be forever. I am certain it will all soon be behind you.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Mr. Ramone . . . Drake, is notoriously vain. His pride will not allow him to remain without the Medallion for long.”
She grimaced at his explanation. “That is hardly reassuring, Sebastian.”
He smiled wryly, belatedly realizing that his words had hardly been designed to inspire comfort.
“Do not fear. He might very well come to his senses and return to the Veil. If he does not, and continues his pursuit of the Medallion, then I will stop him.”
A frown tugged at her brows at his unperturbed tone. “I do not like the thought of you placing yourself in danger.”
“No more than I enjoy knowing that you are at risk,” he pointed out softly.
“But who will protect you?”
He blinked, as if surprised by her concern. She felt a stab of impatience. For goodness’ sake. Surely he must realize that she could not bear it if something happened to him?
“I assure you that I am well able to take care of myself.”
She was not about to be so easily soothed. Sebastian had been commanded to protect the Medallion. She did not doubt for a moment that he would sacrifice himself to fulfill that duty.
She settled her hands upon her hips, her expression stern.
“But you said yourself that this Drake possesses powers that you do not have.”
“True enough, but I was given a dagger blessed by the most powerful of vampires. If necessary, I will use it to destroy Drake.”
His features remained set in determined lines, but Amelia did not miss the sudden darkening of his eyes. For the first time, she considered more than just the danger to Sebastian.
“It would be difficult for you, would it not?” she demanded.
The elegant features tightened. “The most difficult thing I have ever done.”
Her expression softened in sympathy. “You were close to this vampire?”
There was a long pause before he shrugged his shoulder. “The relationships between vampires are rather different from those of humans. We are all of one family and connected by more than mere blood. When one of my brothers is lost it leaves a wound that cannot be healed.”
“Oh, Sebastian.” She closed the small space between them to lay her hand upon his arm. She could physically feel the dread that filled his heart. And the unmistakable sadness at the thought of harming a brother. “Is there no other way?”
He drew in a deep breath. “Who is to say? The future is not yet established. Not even a vampire is capable of peering into such murky depths.”
Amelia sighed, well aware that his hope was fragile, indeed. “I am sorry, Sebastian. I did not realize how very difficult all this must be for you.”
A silence descended as he regarded her with an odd expression. “You are a most astonishing maiden, Miss Hadwell,” he murmured.
She lifted her brows in confusion. “Astonishing?”
“Most mortals would be mindless with terror at the realization that they were surrounded by vampires. If they were capable of believing it at all.”
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.
Chapter 11
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 towar
d 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 in 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 f
orce 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 return 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 confines 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.
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