Caressed by Moonlight (4 page)

Chapter Seven

Dorian was pleased with himself. The party had gone well.

He removed his coat and tossed it over the back of an armchair, then collapsed on his plush sofa. He folded his arms across his chest and smiled to himself. His fire-spitting kitten was not as indifferent to him as she pretended. She may shoot daggers at him with her eyes and slice him to bits with her tongue, but she desired him. He could taste it in her kiss and feel it in the warmth of her body. However, she would not give in easily. He knew that she would take great care in never being alone with him again. She would avoid him and be on her guard, which only meant he would have to try harder.

“My lord?” Dobbins asked from the other side of the study’s door.

“Come in,” Dorian called, sitting up.

“Your mail, sir.”

“Thank you.” Dorian took the small stack of papers offered to him and stood, sparing a glance at Dobbins. “Everything well?”

“No sir,” the servant answered, his voice quaking.

“No?”

“No,” Dobbins repeated. “There is a young man here for you. He arrived just after you left for your meeting with Sir Gabriel. He is in bad shape. The poor lad has been attacked.”

“Where is he?” Dorian demanded. He had been so completely consumed by his thoughts of Victoria that he had not noticed the aroma of young blood that filled his home.

“He is in the guest quarters. He says that he has a message for you.”

“A message?” Dorian whispered to himself as he took his seat behind his wide desk. “Bring him here, Dobbins.”

The servant nodded and hurried off.

Dorian’s brow knitted in a frown. He knew the message must be from a hunter. His plan was working; the bloodthirsty witches had followed him. He just wondered which hunter would be brave and depraved enough to send a bloody messenger directly to him.

The scent of blood polluted the air and Dorian cringed inwardly as Dobbins helped the boy into the room.

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“My lord,” the boy groaned.

“Set him on the sofa,” Dorian instructed, shooting to his feet.

Dobbins gently set the injured messenger down.

“My lord,” the lad said again as he reached into his blood soaked pocket. “I have a letter for you.” He held out the parchment, his hand shaking. Dobbins took the note, broke the wax seal, and handed it to Dorian.

“Who did this to you?” Dorian asked. Ignoring the paper for the moment, he sat it on his desk. “Did you see them?”

The boy shook his head and winced as pain rippled down his spine. “I was sleeping on a bench in the park – when I was attacked.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“He said that if I didn’t find you and–” The messenger moaned and doubled over in agony. “Give you that letter,” he panted. “He would kill me.”

“Dobbins, take the boy back to his room and I’ll have Ophelia tend to him.”

Dobbins leaned across the desk and whispered, “I don’t think the boy will last through the night, sir. Ophelia can’t help him. Death has marked this lad.”

“Yes, but it hasn’t taken him,” Dorian whispered back.

Then to the boy he said, “You will be taken care of here. You needn’t worry.”

The servant grumbled and helped the boy to his feet.

Once the study was empty Dorian pulled open the top drawer of his desk and removed an ancient dagger. He fingered the tip then slowly ran the blade across his palm drawing blood. He willed the wound to stay open as he allowed blood to drip into a brandy glass. When the bottom of the glass was covered the wound promptly disappeared.

“Ophelia,” he called. Dobbins’ wife poked her head into the study. “Mix it with some tea and take it to the boy.”

“Are you sure you wish to use your blood? Mine should–”

“Mine is guaranteed to work,” he stated. “See to it that he is properly fed and bathed. In the morning send him to Mr.

Crumbell’s home. I know he can use a new stable boy.”

Mr. Crumbell’s stable boy had quickly met his end earlier this evening after Gabriel had used the young witch as bait.

“Yes sir.” She curtsied and took up the glass.

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Dorian waited for Ophelia to close the door before returning to his seat. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then snatched up the note.

“Mark Wright,” he read with a scoff. “I should have known.” The hunter had the biggest ego he had ever seen in his long life. It was no wonder that he would be the one to follow him to London and send a battered messenger to his stoop. That little bastard was trying to intimidate him.
Of all the brainless and
–

Dorian froze as he read the last line.

“Damn it,” he growled as he crumbled the note and viciously threw it to the floor.

The hunter knew about Victoria, that fact sent a shiver down his spine.

I don’t think you want anything to happen to your precious
human, Victoria Kingston,
Dorian repeated to himself. He slammed his fist on the desk.

That hunter had no idea who he was dealing with. Mark hoped to frighten him with his knowledge of Victoria, but instead he enraged him. How dare he threaten to take what belongs to him?

Dorian started in surprise at his own thoughts.

He knew he was a possessive man. It was in his nature, but possessive of a human? A mortal he had only met two days ago?

There were plenty of them walking the earth. Why should he care about this one? He desired her and wanted nothing more than to get her in his bed, but after one night of passion it would be over and he would move on. That was how it always was. So why should he care that Mark was threatening her life?

He leaned back in his chair and propped his large feet on the desk.

What could make him feel this way? She was a special woman, he knew. She was brave, intelligent, determined, passionate, and honest. She had never hid her emotions from him.

Even when he was human, people guarded themselves, never showing or telling him what they truly felt. They had shied away from him, scurried off when he entered a room. He had been a great ancient warlord who had fought to gain all that he had.

Victoria was different. She was hot and cold, sweet and sour, and he loved it. Her lavender scent was refreshing, innocent, and seductive. Her eyes were mesmerizing, her lips inviting. He longed to feel her warm soft body beneath his, her legs wrapped
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around his hips. His fangs sprang free as he imagined burying himself deep inside her over and over again as her sweet, spicy, blood slipped down his throat.

He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. He was more than just physically attracted to her but what other kind of attraction was there?

He absently rubbed his chest. Ever since he had met Victoria the curse had not attacked him. Sorrow and loneliness had not ripped at him. They had not crept up on him while he was alone, nor did they haunt his dreams. His hand paused over his heart, a frown darkening his brow.

What did all this mean?

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Chapter Eight

It was a beautiful day for a picnic. The sun was bright, the air was warm and a fresh breeze blew, tickling the hairs on the back of Victoria’s neck. She sat on the white blanket with the titled ladies, each delicately holding their parasols. Victoria noted that she was the only one not wearing laced gloves. She knew that it bespoke of her lack of wealth but she didn’t care. She never liked wearing gloves.

Children ran about freely, flying kites and chasing each other. Victoria had wanted to bring Margaret along but Aunt Nelly would not have it and refused to give a reason for her decision.

Margaret could use some time in the fresh air and she would have enjoyed frolicking with other children. If she were to grow up in London it would not be such a bad idea for her to make friends.

“Did you invite Mr. Vlakhos?”

Hearing

his
name shattered her thoughts. She turned and frowned at Lana who only smiled back.

“Yes indeed. I sent him an invitation,” Lady Stevens said.

“Why do you ask Lana?” Tabitha pressed, her eyebrows raised.

Lana ignored the suspicious glances of the women surrounding her and sipped her tea. “I was just wondering if he would be gracing us with his presence on this fine afternoon.”

“I heard one of the most vulgar things this morning about Vlakhos,” Lady Wisten stated.

T women set their cups down in anticipation, except Victoria and Lana, who both rolled their eyes at the gossipers.

“Do tell,” Lady Hennings urged.

“I was told, by a very respectable source, that last night before your dinner party, Lady Hennings, he was seen entering and leaving Willows from the back door.”

Gasps and murmurs took over the crowd.

Leaning toward Lana, Victoria asked, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everyone knows that Willows is a popular place for the men to visit. It is suitable to enter Willows from the front entrance; only gambling and drinking take place in the front. But whoring, large debt paying, and seriously dangerous business goes on in the
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back. It’s quite damning for a titled and wealthy man to be seen coming from that door.”

“No doubt he was visiting the women there,” one lady said with a huff.

“Perhaps he has lost his fortune playing cards,” another added.

“Only vermin do business there.”

“He does appear to be quite the philanderer,” Lady Hennings spat.

“I'm shocked that Beatrice allowed her daughter to dance with him at Lady Allen’s ball. It could ruin her reputation and all her marital prospects,” Lady Hennings added.

“A dance is harmless,” Lana protested.

“It wasn’t the dance, it was the way he was holding her,”

the older woman clarified. Her reply was met with agreeing nods and more murmurs.

“Do you all remember the first ball he attended? He danced with Lisa Norse and her engagement was ended the very next day,” Tabitha added.

“Perhaps that is the reason Mr. Vlakhos does not attend many balls, he doesn't wish to upset other's lives,” Lana said.

“And I doubt that he is out to seduce every woman in London.”

Just me, it would seem
, Victoria thought.

“I wonder if any of the young women this season will ensnare him. It would seem that all the great rakes find a wife in their later years.” Lady Winsten said reaching for a teacake.

“He is hardly old,” Lady Stevens said. “But at the rate he is going he is bound to be caught by some lovely lady.”

Victoria clenched her teeth. For some unexplainable reason their gossip rubbed her nerves. Yes, she knew full well that he was out to seduce her, but they were not privy to that fact. These women were out for blood, trying to damage his name. Even though she felt no great love for the man, she did not think it was fair that they should be tearing him apart with rumors and suspicions. Venomous tongues were what destroyed her mother’s reputation. Rumors and falsehoods surrounded her parent’s marriage and they had driven them out of London.

“Caught indeed,” Lady Hennings agreed with a nod. “At the end of the season he will most likely have ten bastards on the way. He probably won’t marry any of the mothers.”

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“I seriously doubt that he is so lacking in honor and how dare you speak of the man in such a distasteful manor when he is not present and therefore cannot defend himself.”

Victoria was shocked by her words, as was everyone else.

She felt as if she should protect Dorian. He was a whoremonger but he did not seem to be a dishonorable man. He never once played her falsely. Dorian had been honest, he admitted he wanted her from the start, and she respected him for that.

“I think the rumors speak for themselves,” Lady Hennings countered with a dismissive shrug.

“They are rumors,” Victoria tossed back as she came to her feet. “Now, if you will excuse me, I'll be leaving. Lana, I’ll meet you later this evening.” She snapped her parasol closed and handed it to her friend. “I need to take a walk.”

Victoria could not get out of the garden fast enough. Lord Rogers waved to her from where the men stood. He had brought three of his finest horses with him today. Lord Stevens had mentioned at the dinner party the night before how much he would like to purchase one. She waved back but did not stop; she was in no condition to flirt. Many of the men on her list were present this afternoon but she was not in the mood for interviews. Another ball would be held later in the week and she decided that would be a great time to get to know her suitors.

Her heart was racing. She knew she should not have interfered on Dorian's behalf, now those busybodies were going to go blabbing all over town how she and Dorian were having an affair. That was just the rumor she needed to circle the
ton
while she searched for a husband.

She stomped across the well-manicured lawn, her eyes on the ground as she silently cursed herself for being a fool. She was about to round the corner of the house when she suddenly slammed into something very hard. Victoria looked up, an apology ready on her tongue, but she quickly bit it back and snapped, “I defended you.”

“Well, thank you,” Dorian said in confusion.

“That was not a smart thing to do.”

“Why not?”

“Do you know what they will think of me now?”

Dorian gazed down at her with a smile. She had the most adorable face, her anger narrowing her thin brows, her annoyance pouting her lips. She was a vision even when she was in a temper.

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“What who will think?”

He had no desire to read her mind to find the answer. This was quite an amusing game.

When her eyes met his she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“I shouldn't have told you. It is not your concern.” A hot blush of embarrassment crept up her throat to set her cheeks on fire, needing to change the subject she said, “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited.”

“Oh,” she sighed, gathering herself. “I knew that.”

She had told him that she had stood up for him and that stupid smile on his face told her he was happy. Now he would have no doubt that she – No! She did not like him. She could not!

He would only ruin her. She could not lose her sister. But even those thoughts did not change the fact that she could not stop thinking about the kiss they had shared, the way his lips felt against hers, how his warm fingers felt on her skin. She could not help but wonder what else would have happened in that library if Rogers had not rudely interrupted. She chided herself mentally once more.

Lord Rogers had saved her from ravishment.

“And what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in the garden with the ladies?”

“I'm walking home.”

“Allow me to escort you.”

“I can get there all by myself, thank you.”

“The Stevens’ house isn’t exactly in the heart of the city, my kitten. You’re a long way from home if you mean to travel by foot. My carriage is right over there.” He said pointing to the black box with midnight blue velvet curtains covering the windows. “The stable boy took the horses but I’m certain I can get them back,” he added with a light chuckle.

“No,” she snarled. “I mean no, thank you. I need to walk. I need to clear my head.”

Dorian ignored her protests, took her by the arm and began to tug her across the driveway to the collection of carriages. She dragged her feet and struggled to free her arm, but it was no use, his hand was like an iron band.

“Mr. Vlakhos I really don’t need your help.”

“Wait here a moment. I will go fetch the horses.”

Victoria grunted as he headed toward the stables and the group of men. She was not about to wait. Turning on her heel, she
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headed down the nicely paved driveway. She took a deep breath to calm herself and allowed the pleasantness of her surroundings to wash over her. The road was wide with tall trees lining one side and a steep trench on the other. Birds sang overhead and she found some peace. However, it was not long before she heard the sound of hooves click-clacking on the cobblestone. Glancing over her shoulder, she groaned.

“Ms. Kingston,” Dorian’s voice rang from one of the windows, his footman slowed the horses to make his lord’s conversation easier.

“What?” she snapped. She had just begun to relax and he had to spoil it.

“I thought I had offered you a ride home. I may have imagined it, so I will offer it now. Would you like a ride home?”

“You did offer your services and I declined, as I will do now.”

“It is not safe for a young lady as pretty as you to be walking the streets of London alone.”

“If you haven't noticed, Mr. Vlakhos, it is day light. I don’t think many men will believe me to be a whore.”

“I've taken note of what time of day it is.”
More then she
could know
, he thought. His eyes were beginning to burn from the brightness of the sun, he had not walked in the daylight for many years and he needed time to adjust. He was among the very few vampires that could withstand the murderous rays of the sun. “But really, I must insist.”

Victoria stopped, as did the horses. Dorian opened the door for her. She squared her shoulders and took a step back. Dorian Vlakhos had to be the most stubborn man she had ever met, that both angered and intrigued her. She certainly did not want a push over for a – She would not finish that thought.

“From the stories I’ve heard of you, it is not safe for me to accept your offer.”

“Again there is no one here to see.”

Her cheeks burned with an intense blush as she once again recalled their meeting in the library the night before.

“Mr. Vlakhos, you do not understand the situation I am in,” she stated. “I cannot be associated with you in anyway if I hope to find a husband.”

“I fail to see how my transporting you home has anything to do with–”

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“It doesn't, but that is not what everyone else will think.”

Victoria turned to continue her walk when the earth beneath her foot gave way. She let out a short yelp, she closed her eyes, and braced herself for the impact, but it never came. Instead she was caught in a set of strong arms. She gasped, her shock reflecting in her wide eyes and stilled heart.

“How did you do that?”

“Does it matter how I saved you as long as I saved you?”

Dorian asked with a wink. “Now that you have suffered such a traumatic event, I really must insist you allow me to take you home.” He started up the steep incline with ease.

Victoria shook her head. How could a man move so quickly? He had been inside his carriage before she slipped. It was truly amazing. She was so bemused that she did not notice when he set her in the carriage and called out to the driver to move on.

Finally she managed to whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Vlakhos.”

“Please, call me Dorian.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Dorian.”

It was the softest, sweetest thing he had ever heard. Her voice skipped over his skin like flames and he fought with every fiber of his being to stay on his side of the small dark cabin. He wanted to crush her in his arms and kiss her with all the desire that fired his cold blood.

He reclined and balled his fists at his sides. He had to remain in control. He had to ignore his raging urges. He had to keep his distance. But he wanted nothing more than to claim her here and now, with such a force that even in a thousand years neither of them would forget.
Later,
he told himself.
She will be
mine
.

“Will you tell me your address so I can direct the driver?”

he said trying to redirect his thoughts. He was thankful that the gown she was wearing now was not as revealing as what she wore the night before. The bodice did not do her curves justice and those magnificent breasts he had the pleasure to caress, were well hidden by an abundance of lace.

“I would appreciate it if you dropped me off a block away from my house. My aunt doesn’t take kindly to strangers, especially male strangers.”

He nodded and turned his gaze to the window. He couldn’t look at her. The memories of their kiss in the library and the sweet taste of her blood were too fresh and potent in his mind. The beast within him was awakening. He would have to feed and the woman
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sitting across from him was a delicious temptation. She was truly a flower. He smiled to himself. A flower with sharp poisonous thorns, but he didn't care, he wanted her and he would have her.

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