“You say that you had no control with her in the room?’ Malik asked.
Nico frowned. “I would not say that, precisely. There is a chance that her mother’s bloodline was very pure. Or…her sire might have been a Born. That would explain a lot.”
“So that is how you are trying to explain your behavior?” Malik’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Nico ignored him. They did not have time to fight amongst themselves. And he was not ready to deal with his behavior. He still didn’t understand it himself. He definitely could not explain it to his best friend.
“That is certainly why Hurst was after her. She has a strong pull.”
Again, Malik watched him. “Indeed?”
He nodded. “Have you ever known me to lose my head like that?”
Malik shook his head. “Never…for obvious reasons.”
He tossed Malik another warning look. He did not want to talk about the past tonight. There was too much at stake. “I don’t think there is a need to go into family histories at the moment, do you?”
Malik said nothing.
Nico glanced at Gray, who watched them intensely. “What kind of state is our prisoner in?”
Gray winced. “Beyond any reason. The man kept shouting about Lady Cordelia being his. He would not let it go. We poured enough laudanum down his throat to put out half of London.”
“Keep a lot on hand. We actually might be able to save him from himself.” Nico glanced at Malik. “Do you agree?”
The cold, shuttered expression in his friend’s eyes was one he had seen before. Both of them had their demons to deal with…only Malik had to relive his any time he tried to help a Made vampire through transition. “I have not seen him, and you know it varies from person to person. If the man was of strong character, we might be able to save him—if he hasn’t progressed too far. I need blood, all from Borns.”
Gray stepped in. “I already put out the call. Father will want to discuss this with you after you are finished. I know that he has never heard feeding them Born blood helps them through transition.”
Malik nodded. “I need it from a variety of sources. It will help pull him through and cut off his connection to the Born who made him. We also need to factor in that there might be others who will object to my presence and methods.”
Nico shook his head. “You are always exempt from these witch hunts. They know you fought on our side when the priests came after us.”
“You know the younger generation does not understand,” Malik said. “I will try to help him, but there will be no promises. I will not kill him.”
Nico said nothing because he knew Malik was right. There would be some among the Born vampire families who would always look down on Malik for being Made, no matter how old he was.
With many Made vampires came trouble. There was always the occasional Made popping up, but the number that had appeared in the last six months was alarming. Still, as they always had, the Vampire Alliance did nothing. They wanted to wait to see if it would just blow over. Samuel Blackburn thought differently. His father was more than likely right to worry, especially now that they knew someone had turned a member of the aristocracy. It was true they’d found nothing concrete yet…but Nico knew something deadly swirled in their midst.
Malik rose from his position on the sofa. “Where is this dungeon of yours?”
Gray called in a servant. “Please take this gentleman to see our guest.”
With a bow to Gray, the young man held the door open for Malik, but Nico saw the look in his eyes. Disgust. Sadly, many in the Born bloodlines had an irrational hatred of any Made.
“Now, explain to me why I would not understand about Malik?”
Nico glanced at Gray then wandered over to the window. A smudge of red filtered through the grime of London. The sun was rising.
“Nico?”
Without turning around he said, “Malik is Made.”
“And?”
Nico faced the young vampire, thinking Gray had been lucky to have missed the vampire genocide. It had been four hundred years since the Spanish Inquisition. So many of them had perished…especially their Carriers. It had almost wiped out all of their kind.
“Many want to kill any Made for fear of their behavior—thanks to the memories of Vlad the Impaler and his army.”
A look of pure astonishment passed over Gray’s face. “But Malik is always accepted. The man is a legend. Father speaks of him in such awe, I will admit I expected him to be a sword-wielding giant.”
Nico chuckled at that. “He saved your uncle’s life.”
Gray nodded. “Yes, along with many others. But I do understand that there might be a witch hunt…which means we need to discover who is making vampires before it comes to that.”
“One of the reasons my father sent me down here. The rest...well, they would prefer not have to deal with another Vlad if they don't have to. They would rather pretend this is all just rumor. The Quad refused to send in anyone officially, and let’s not even start with the Alliance. To get a qualifying vote from all the different factions would be impossible. Pretending there isn’t a threat is easier than facing death. Especially for Borns who think they will live forever. But with the viscount...”
“We know better.” Gray blew out a breath. “The problem is many of them are too old, too set in their ways. Your father is the only intelligent one on the Ruling Committee. My father said that if needed, he and mother can return.”
That surprised Nico. As with the rest of their predecessors, the older generation would “die,” allowing the next Duke of Queensbury to take over. They usually lived on the continent, away from court. To offer to come back to support Nico's father on the council meant that the old duke knew just how grave things were.
“My father would hate for that to happen, but I will let him know.”
“Father knows the situation is bad.” Gray grimaced. “There have been a rash of murders near our Scottish estate...similar to the one you spoke of.”
In that instant, the scene from a fortnight ago came rushing back in stark clarity. Nico had to close his eyes, but when he did, the image of the damaged woman, the stench of her blood, appeared. He swallowed the bile that rose to the top of his throat. He would never forget that image or the feel of thrusting a stake into the heart of another living vampire.
“But on to more important matters...I can get you a special license if needed. I assume you want to conduct your business as quickly as possible.”
Nico opened his eyes and wanted to smack the smug expression off the man's face but knew better. Gray allowed a lot of things, but that would be stepping over the line.
“Yes. I require one. My problem is actually proposing.”
Gray's eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You think she might refuse? I would think Lady Cordelia is smarter than that. She knows the consequences of her actions. More so than others, I would say.”
“Why?”
“Her mother. The woman’s reputation would make a courtesan blush. It is said she had more lovers than the prince regent did. Except for the present earl, her children have lived by strict guidelines.”
The memory of their interlude came rushing back to him in vivid detail. Cordelia must have iron control of her emotions. He must have just tapped the surface of her passion. She would be the death of him.
“All girls, correct? It stands to reason they would be held to a higher standard.”
Gray chuckled. “I would love to hear your soon-to-be betrothed's ideas on that, but you mistake what I say. Not one of the girls was presented...none had a season.”
That gave Nico pause. “But Lady Cordelia...”
“Is here because she did not want to stay with her drunkard brother...or he turned her out. I would not put it past the bastard.”
“All the others are married?”
“Yes, one widowed. All to local gentry, and they had dowries. What little Lady Cordelia had is probably gone. From what I understand, the
bastard of a father left her with nothing but a pittance.”
“That is beyond odd.”
“The whole family is odd.”
Nico threw him a warning look. “Stupendous. And now they will be my family.”
“Look at it this way. She's a Carrier at least. You have a way to mate. It is difficult enough to find a Carrier these days...and most leave much to be desired. Besides, it seems that you two are compatible.”
The duke shot him a mocking smile. Nico glared and tried to fight off memories of Cordelia against him, her flavor on his tongue. Impossible. His body responded immediately, his blood quickening, his fangs stirring. He ground his teeth together. He had to keep his inner beast in control or he would be no better than a newly turned Made.
“Who knows, you might want to bond with her.”
Those words threw cold water on Nico’s thoughts of his bride. He had seen what bonding did to a vampire, how a simple mistake could take away everything precious...including your life.
Noticing the younger man staring at him, Nico shook off those thoughts and smiled. “At the moment, I am not convinced the woman will even allow me in her house.”
* * * *
Cordelia took a sip of her tepid tea and winced. She could not abide tea and would rather have coffee, but that was much too expensive…as was chocolate. Living on her meager earnings from her articles in the The Daily Inquisitor did not allow for luxuries. She could not complain since she still had a roof over her head—for now. If her brother heard about her mishap, Alex might throw her out on the street.
With a sigh she leaned back in the chair. She was out of sorts. Any sane person would be after last night’s events. Closing her eyes, she remembered the way Nico’s mouth had tasted, the way it felt to have his long, lean muscled body pressing her into the couch. She shivered, her body warming at the intense memories. Cordelia opened her eyes. In one action she lost her reputation and proved to everyone, including herself, that she was no better than her mother.
Fionna Bentley, the Countess of Collingsworth, had lived life by her own rules, which apparently had been at odds with society. By all accounts, her brother was Collingsworth's son, but she and her three sisters had no real idea who their fathers were. There were rumors about Amelia, Sophia, and Diana's fathers, but no one had any idea who Cordelia's birth father might be. The truth had died with her mother in the early morning hours the day after Cordelia's birth. And now she had proven she had a lustful streak like her mother.
She was ruined in so many ways. She cared not a whit about society, except that it was her meal ticket. And without access, she was one week away from begging for food. There was a way…if she dared. It would require ignoring the loss of her reputation and allowing society to think she was truly like her mother. She shook her head. That just would not work. Cordelia would never enter the demimonde, even if she were pretending. It went against her nature.
Wells, the Collingsworth town butler, opened the door to the breakfast room. He sniffed in disapproval of her meager breakfast, but she refused to give in. She would not have Cook make breakfast for a family of one. Porridge and tea was enough for Cordelia and all she could afford.
“A Mr. Blackburn is here to see you, my lady.” His voice dripped with censure.
At the mention of Nico, her heart turned over. Heat filled her face at the thought of seeing him in the daylight.
“My lady?”
She glanced up at Wells and realized their old retainer was staring at her with interest.
“Y-yes, please show him in. We will need another setting for him.”
The look of horror that crossed over Wells' face almost made her laugh. “Just bring the tea service out. I doubt that Mr. Blackburn will be here to eat.”
With another sniff of disapproval, Wells left. He returned a moment later and announced Nico.
Nico stepped into the breakfast room and everything that had gone on the night before came rushing back to her. If possible, her face grew even hotter. She had no idea what kind of conversation a lady had with a man who had done such shocking, wonderful things to her…person.
She rose from her seat as he approached her.
“Lady Cordelia.” He took her offered hand and kissed her fingers. The brief contact had her head spinning.
“Won't you have a seat, Mr. Blackburn?”
His lips quirked. “I believe I will, Lady Cordelia.”
Wells appeared with the tea service.
“I will serve, Wells.”
He hesitated, his narrowed gaze telling her he was not happy with leaving her alone with Mr. Blackburn. Cordelia was positive Wells would include this in his report to her brother—not that Alex cared enough to stop drinking. She did not waver her gaze. Wells sighed then bowed, leaving them alone, though he left the door open.
“Sugar or cream?”
“Neither.”
Setting her cup aside, she squared her shoulders and faced him. “I know you did not come here for the refreshments.”
The smile he offered her told her he had been testing her. He placed the cup back on the saucer. “No. I have come to discuss our situation.”
“Situation?”
He studied her for a moment. “Indeed. By now, what happened in the Smythe’s library has been recounted to every nosey dowager and debutante in London. If not, it will be by sundown.”
“Every detail?”
She watched as his jaw flexed telling her he was grinding his teeth again. It seemed he was always doing that around her. “Well, not everything. Just...the particulars.”
She could not help the snort that came out of her. “I'm sorry, but I find that unbelievable.”
He frowned. “You do not think that Lady Smythe did not tell every gossipy hen she knows she found us in the room, your hair a mess, and your dress...well, it did not look as it had earlier.”
She waved that away. “No. I expect that to be making the rounds this morning. It will probably end up in the gossip pages. Most people expected that kind of behavior out of me a long time ago, if you must know.”
A look of understanding lightened his eyes. “Yes. It is hard to live up to society's expectations.”
Her throat closed up, and tears burned the back of her eyes. His voice had turned so gentle, as if he knew exactly what she spoke of, of what it felt like being an outcast in your own family.
Cordelia cleared her throat. “I was speaking of the fight.”
“Oh, that.” He sighed. “More than likely Lady Smythe will tell everyone he was fighting for your honor.”
She rolled her eyes. “If anything he was trying to replace you.”
Nico's eyes widened then narrowed as he studied her. “Indeed. But he is no concern of yours.”
She opened her mouth to respond to that, but the icy look in his eyes told her not to pry. She would let it go, but only for now. She would find out just what was going on with the viscount’s strange behavior.
“Now, to get on to the business at hand. Gray is going to make sure we have a special license.”
A strange combination of relief and irritation twisted through her. He meant to marry her, but he was not planning on proposing. Granted, their situation—especially hers—was perilous. Without a marriage, she was ruined. They both knew it. It did not mean she didn’t deserve a proposal.
“Is he?”
The foolish man did not hear the warning in her voice and continued his explanation.
“I assume that we can get married any time after that, and we can actually have the archbishop oversee it, thanks to Gray again.”
When she said nothing, he turned to her. “Is there something wrong?”
“No.”
Finally, he truly looked at her. “Yes, there is.”
“You seem to have everything planned.”
He nodded. “Yes. That way you will have no worries.”
“You have every detail taken care of.” He smiled at her. Stupid man. “You, however, do no
t have a bride.”
He frowned, confusion clearly stamped on his features. “You are my bride.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “Am I?”
“Who the bloody hell do you think I am going to marry?”
She pursed her lips as if in deep thought. “Maybe a woman you asked?”
His face blanked then flushed. Seeing Nicodemus Blackburn blush was somehow endearing.
“I beg your pardon, my lady.”
“It was not as if I expected poetry, but I did expect to be asked.”
He cleared his throat. “My apologies.”
It took every bit of her propriety not to laugh. He was being subservient but he did not like it, not one bit. It went against everything she knew of his character. He stood then came to her side. Her nerves jumped to life, her heart beating faster. She stared up at him, wondering what he was about now. He sighed as he took her hand, signaling that he expected her to stand. With an arched eyebrow, she stood and he dropped down to his knee. Mortification filled her.
“Oh, for goodness' sake, get up.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She looked down at him, the clear intent in his eyes, and knew that no matter if he asked or not, they would be married. Blackburn had an impeccable reputation...not even the whisper of a mistress, and he took great pride in that fact. There was no way this man would allow her name to be ruined.
“Yes, Mr. Blackburn, I would be,” she swallowed, “pleased to be your wife.”
He rose to his feet and, before she could stop him, pulled her hard against his chest. And just like that, her pulse fluttered, and her breath caught in her throat.
“I think we should seal it with a kiss.”
His rough voice shivered over her flesh, caused her head to spin. He dipped his head and brushed his mouth over hers in an innocent caress. With a sigh, she leaned into him, into the kiss. He deepened his touch, slipping his tongue between her lips. The intimacy of the action had her head spinning. He pulled her tighter against him, his body surrounding her. She slid her hands up his arms and behind his neck and gave herself over to the kiss. He slanted his mouth over hers, again and again as he built up the heat that burned her the night before.
Desire by Blood Page 4