Bound to Blackwood (23 page)

The rest of the meal went by in relative silence. Roarke asked a few more questions about the Order, much to Larissa's annoyance. Lena didn't say a word and Thorn had no idea what to make of that. He risked a few glances her way throughout the meal, but she wouldn't meet his glance. Each time he looked, he got another hint of that exotic spice, as though she knew he was looking at her.

He adjusted himself to accommodate the aching bulge in his trousers, but he couldn't do it too often without arousing suspicion. As much as he wanted to, he didn't dare look at Lena again. He didn't think his body could take it.

Thorn sighed with relief when Larissa suggested they retire to the sitting room. Reminding himself that he was a full blooded male and not some sex-starved youngling, Thorn had just about got himself under control by the time he reached the other room.

All that self-control went straight out of the window when he saw Lena laughing at something Roarke had said.

What the hell was going on?

First Ryver, then Roarke? Neither man was a match for him in any department, yet the green-eyed monster he never knew he shared headspace with disagreed.
That
thought entered his head unbidden:
"Mine."
 

Something weird was going on.

Lena was talking to Roarke and laughing at his inability to call her Lena instead of
"My Lady,"
but she could feel Thorn's stare boring right through her. Her mind took her back to the den. When was that? Last night? The night before? She couldn't remember. She did remember the look on Thorn's face though. She would never forget that look.
 

She shot a sideways glance and her breath hitched. Good
God!
Thorn's stunning golden eyes were almost white-hot they were burning so brightly. His nostrils flared and his jaw flexed as he
ground his teeth. As he met her eyes, she was undone. The inferno she was barely containing, notched up a gear, and wetness welled between her legs. The feeling was so powerful, so unexpected, she nearly stumbled.
 

"Are you alright, Lena?" Roarke asked as he reached out a hand to steady her.

That simple touch on her arm made her feel ill and Roarke snatched his hand away. As Lena tried to wipe away the unpleasant feeling on her arm, Roarke tried again, "Lena, are you quite well?"

Before she could answer, she looked back at Thorn. The look on his face was full of possession and although she didn't understand it, something inside her loved the way he looked at her. Lena shook her head, brushing away the thought. Whatever Thorn was up to, that look had nothing to do with her. It couldn't be. It just wasn't possible.

She cleared her throat. "Yes. I'm fine."

"Is there anything you need?" Roarke asked.

Yes, I need to get out of here
. "No. No, thank you."
 

Roarke didn't seem to have noticed Thorn's murderous look, but nevertheless, he distanced himself from Lena. Making an excuse about getting another drink, despite having a full glass in his hands, he left her on her own.

Lena was grateful of the reprieve. Her mind was scrambled and polite conversation was the last thing she needed. Which was why she felt sick to her stomach as she watched Larissa Bowman making her way over.

The other woman seemed to float towards her. The black gown Larissa wore moved in slow, liquid movements as it followed the wearer's gracious movements. Lena sighed inwardly. Even if she owned such a gown, she seriously doubted she'd be able to pull it off the way Larissa Bowman did.

She prayed the
Maluth
was just "taking a turn about the room," or whatever it was that genteel ladies were supposed to do. Lena disliked Larissa intensely and after the growling incident, she had no desire to talk to her.
 

No such luck.

"Lena. I hope the repast was to your liking?" Larissa asked.

Repast? Who says that?
"Yes, thank you. It was lovely."
 

Larissa nodded and took a sip of her wine as she regarded the rest of the party. Lena followed her example and looked at the others. Roarke and Bay were deep in conversation over in the corner. Crane was sprawled out on one of the utilitarian sofas chatting with Thorn who had moved over to the boxy looking armchair.

Thorn's eyes had returned to their normal golden-hue, but despite their seemingly relaxed body language, Lena knew both men were anything but. The muscles in Thorn's shoulders were bunched and the arm that wasn't slung over the back of the chair rested not-so-casually across his waist meaning his gun hand was just millimetres from his weapon.

"Lena, I feel I owe you an apology," Larissa said quietly.

Lena snapped her head towards the other woman, searching her face. Larissa's shark-grey eyes had softened and the harsh lines around her mouth diminished. The woman was being totally sincere.

"An apology? What for?" Lena asked, astonished.

"I didn't realise, and my behaviour was completely unacceptable."

Lena thought all of Larissa's behaviour had been unacceptable, so the answer didn't help. "I don't understand," Lena replied.

"I'm embarrassed to say, Lena; my behaviour towards Thorn earlier today. Had I known, I would never have presumed to act so informally with him. No wonder you were so upset."

Lena had no words. Talking to Larissa was probably on her list of top-ten, worst nightmares. Talking to Larissa about Thorn was like a record breaking, never to be surpassed, number one. Yet, what had Larissa said?
Had she known?
 

"I'm sorry, Larissa, you've lost me. Had you known what?"

Larissa looked at her feet, embarrassed. "I don't wish to overstep the mark again, Lena."

"Please, Larissa. Speak freely. I assure you, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"I wasn't aware of your relationship with Thorn."

Jesus Christ, the woman had lost her mind
. "My relationship with Thorn?" Lena stammered in as hushed a tone as she could manage.
 

"I should have seen it earlier, though I understand the need for discretion. It must be a difficult position to be in. To have the eye of the King, yet not the station to see it through." Larissa didn't seem to realise the insult in her words. Her inflection was one of genuine kindness and understanding.

"I'm afraid you are very much mistaken, Larissa. My relationship with Thorn Blackwood is as his Steward of the Watch, nothing more," Lena replied sharply before making her way over to the servant stationed by the door.

"As you wish," Larissa called out across the room.

Lena needed to get out of here, like right-fucking-now. She seconded the servant to escorted her to the guest room and stole away down the corridor as quickly as she possibly could.

Crane was telling the truth. But people could be guilty of lying by omission and Thorn could tell the Vampire was hiding something. The guy was far too guarded, his answers far too careful.

"You have to tell me the whole story, Crane," Thorn said.

"Upon my honour, My Lord, what I have told you is the truth. I do not know how much more I can tell you."

"Have a care with your honour, Master Bowman."

Crane's eyes widened and Thorn smirked. Playing the honour card was probably a low blow, but he knew it would work. If Asher was right, and Crane had made an honour oath, Thorn was determined to relieve him of that burden. Now he just needed to talk to Crane alone.

Thorn got to his feet. "I think perhaps you should show me the rest of the facility, don't you?"

Crane struggled to his feet, though regained his composure as he flattened the front of his trousers and straightened the lapels of his frock coat. "Of course, My Lord. Please follow me."

Once out into the grey corridor, they turned left and Crane led Thorn past two more doors to a single entry way at the far end. As he looked back up the corridor, Thorn saw they were directly opposite the osmium door that had started this little adventure. Crane held open the door to what looked like a communications' suite and gestured for Thorn to step inside.

Crane closed the door and pulled up one of the leather chairs that sat in front on of a long bank of top-of-the-range work stations. All of the screens were blank and most of the keyboards were still in their just-out-of-the-box plastic sheaths and the power was not connected. Thorn felt his brow knit as he took the seat opposite Crane. And then realisation hit. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"This comms suite has never been used. I dare say the whole facility is just as untested." Thorn was disgusted with himself for not realising earlier.

"Indeed. The facility was installed when Mother remodelled the house, though we have never had cause to use it."

"Until now," Thorn finished for him.

"Until now." Crane nodded.

"What changed?"

"You did, My Lord." Crane lowered his storm-cloud-grey eyes. "With all respect, it is not often the Order visits our House. You may be our King, but you are a warrior first and the attention did not sit well with my mother."

Frankly, Thorn was surprised by Crane's insight and it made him wonder how many of his loyal subjects felt the same. Shit. Pushing the thought away, Thorn narrowed his eyes at the other man. "The attention would sit better if you had nothing to hide."

Crane sighed. "I will endanger my father's honour if I tell you."

"You endanger mine if you do not," Thorn replied.

Raking a trembling hand through his long blonde hair, Crane just nodded.

"Crane…" The power in Thorn's voice shook the room, but he hadn't raised his voice. The beginnings of an order flowed from him and he watched as Crane winced, waiting for the hammer blow to land. Yet an extraordinary thing happened. Some kind of inner knowledge flashed in Crane's eyes before he whispered, "The order is not necessary, let me have my honour."

Thorn inclined his head, suddenly impressed with the strength the man displayed.

"We did go to the inn that night and that woman did run away…" Crane began.

"But?"

"But my father was not ambushed as I said, not in the manner I described at least. The woman, Saffron did you say her name was? Yes, Saffron, she came barrelling out of the groom's' entrance to the inn and flew straight into my father's arms. She begged us for help. My father tried to get her to safety but she wouldn't dematerialise. And then we realised why." Crane's voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "She had a child with her."

"Eden!" Thorn said.

"We never knew her name," Crane continued, "but Saffron said the child's life was in danger. Saffron refused to tell us who the child was; said something about her very name being a death sentence for the pair of them. It was the strangest thing I'd ever heard, but Father was right, is still right really. We are all honour-bound to help those in need."

"So where did they go?"

"Father and I escorted them through Norton woods to the neighbouring village. My Father knew the
Maluth
there and said he would be able to help us. House Clayden was well known for its strength in numbers, and the
Maluth
was a wise man. He would know what to do."
 

"Clayden? As in
Oscar
Clayden?" Thorn interjected.
 

"The very same. You know of him, My Lord?"

"Indeed I do." Thorn also knew that Oscar Clayden had died a long time ago and he prayed Crane wasn't leaving him with a dead end.

"Father was right.
Maluth
Clayden took Saffron and the youngling in, said he knew a safe place for the child."
 

"Tell me you know where this safe place was," Thorn said.

Crane shook his head.

Thorn puffed his cheeks out in a long sigh. So there it was. Eden
had
been there that night, but without Oscar Clayden, where were they supposed to go with it?