Microsoft Word - The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance.doc (11 page)

“Get out!” she yelled. “Henri! Henri!”

“He can’t help you,” the man said.

“What have you done with him?” she hissed.

“Ah good, you speak English. The boy is fine. He’s taking a

walk.”

“Henri would not abandon his post.”

“To be fair to the lad I did suggest it rather . . . forcefully.”

83

She sat back and studied him. He wasn’t just tall, he was

broad. His dark-blue coat and vest covered wide shoulders,  which seemed to fill her small carriage. His hair was black and  cut short, so unlike the long, curly wigs which were fashionable  for men these days. Black leather riding boots covered his long  legs and she had to shift to make room for them.

“What the devil do you want?” she snapped.

He leaned forwards, his dark eyes glittering, and rubbed the stubble which covered his very square jaw. “I want to see the woman who brought me all the way from England.”

She frowned. “I don’t even know you.”

“You are correct but you will know me well by the time this

dance is done.”

“You speak in riddles.”

He leaned back and smiled. “Then let me make it plain to you. You have made a nuisance of yourself among some very powerful people.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What people?”

“Namely, Francois, the Regent of Paris. It seems that you

keep killing his vampires.”

Her body tensed and she wondered if she could make it to the wooden stake that was tucked between the seat cushions in time. Careful not to draw his attention to her hand, she laid her palms on the seat and leaned forwards. There were,  she realized, as his gaze was drawn to the swell of her breasts, things that being a vampire did not change. She took a deep breath,straining the limits of the pale-blue dress.

84

“I am not a murderer,
 
Monsieur
. If Francois would keep his

vampires from killing humans, then I would not hunt them.”

“It is against the High King’s law to kill humans. How can

you be certain they are doing this?”

“Because five of them nearly killed me two years ago.”

“Are they dead now?”

She smiled. “They were the first ones I killed. I execute

only the guilty.”

He arched a brow at her. “And you decide who is innocent

and who is guilty?”

She shrugged. “Someone must.”

He again crossed his arms over his massive chest. “I must say, my dear, you are quite impressive for a human women.  Francois says that you have nearly a hundred kills to your credit.”

“Obviously it is not enough. One of his vampires murdered  a woman near the Bastille two nights ago. But you did not cross  the Channel to congratulate me.”

“No,” he said, his eyes raking hotly over her. “I’ve been

hired to kill you.”

She jerked the stake from its hiding place and lunged at him. His hand caught  her wrist like a vice and they both looked down to see the tip of the stake lost in the fabric of coat and vest.

85

“By God, you are a bloodthirsty wench,” he muttered and  grabbed the back of her head with his free hand, pulling her  mouth down to his.

The  stake in her hand was all but forgotten as his lips met hers. Before she knew how it had happened her body was flush against his and the hand that held her wrist was pressing against the small of her back. She had no idea where the stake was and

at the moment she didn’t care. His tongue swept into her mouth  and she melted into him, her body quivering. It had been years  since she’d been kissed and longer still since she’d been touched  by a man she felt any sort of passion for. This man, God, he  fired her blood. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his coat  and wondered what that wide chest would feel like if it were  bared to her hands.

Abruptly he turned her loose, unceremoniously dumping her back into her seat. While she was still trying to get her bearings he scooped his hat up and bounded out of the carriage. He paused outside the door and swept her a low bow before placing the plumed hat back on his head at a rakish angle.

“I thought you were going to kill me,” she said, inwardly  wincing at the tremor and the faintest sound of disappointment  in her voice.

“No. I said I’ve been
 
hired
 
to kill you,”  he replied with a

smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll most likely get to it tomorrow.”

And then he was gone, as if he’d been nothing more than her imagination. Justine blew out a breath. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t think it was from fear. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to be celibate these last few years.  Perhaps then she wouldn’t have found herself in a torrid embrace with a vampire. In a carriage, she thought with disgust.  While sitting in front of a convent.

86

“
Mon Dieu
, I am going to hell.”

But it would almost have been worth the trip.

The next night the theatre at the Tuileries Palace was filled to overflowing and Justine could not escape an invitation from the Duc d’Orleans to join his party at the neighbouring Palace  Royal. For two hours she watched the clock, counting the minutes until she could make a graceful exit. Her thoughts completely revolved around the vampire in her carriage as she drank and danced and managed to successfully avoid the wandering hands of Monsieur La Fontaine. She was so pre-occupied that, when the Duc d’Orleans loudly hailed her from across the room, someone had to grab get by the sleeve to get her attention.

“It looks as if the King’s brother is bringing you a present,”  Madame de Montespan, Louis’ current mistress, informed her  with a sly smile.

“Oh dear God,” Justine moaned as she stood rooted to the

floor, watching the Duc cross the room with her vampire in tow.

Madame de Montespan chuckled and patted her on the arm.  “Good luck, dear,” she said with a wink, before blending back into the crowd.

Justine had to admit, in the moments before Philippe descended on her, that the vampire was quite a fine figure of a

man. Tall and broad, every inch of him was overpoweringly  male. No wonder he had caught Philippe’s eye. Despite two  marriages and five surviving children, the Duc d’Orleans was  unashamedly, and quite flamboyantly, a lover of men. At any  given time he wore more perfume than Justine had ever owned,  and just about as much lace. It had come as quite a surprise to  everyone when he had proven himself to be an excellent military

87

commander. For all his foppishness though,  Justine quite liked

him.

“
Cherie!
” he greeted  her. “I have met the most charming  man. Allow me to introduce you to John Devlin, Earl of  Falconhurst. He is newly arrived from King Charles’ court.”

Justine arched a brow at the vampire’s title but made her

curtsey nonetheless.

“Yes, the Earl is an old  acquaintance,” she assured Philippe.

The vampire inclined his head. “It is lovely to see you

again,
 
Mademoiselle
.”

They stared at each other for a long moment until the Duc loudly cleared his throat. “Then I will leave you alone to renew your acquaintance,” he said with a wink.

When Philippe was out of earshot Justine looked the vampire up and down. The silks and lace which looked so elegant on Louis’ courtiers seemed out of place on him. His broad, muscular chest appeared more suited to chain mail thanvelvet.

“You look ridiculous,” she said.

He frowned, glancing down at his dark-blue velvet coat, heavily adorned with braiding and lace, the silk vest and knee breeches beneath it, and his silk hose and high-heeled shoes. “I look like everyone else,” he  protested.

“You still look ridiculous.”

He shrugged. “Well, the fashions today are rather absurd.  To tell you the truth, I’ve worn suits of armour more comfortable than these shoes.”

88

Unable to help herself, she laughed. “Do you know the punishment for  impersonating the nobility?”

“And what makes you think my title is not my own?” he asked with an arrogance in his voice that made her pause.

“How long have you been a vampire?”

“Over three hundred years.”

“Well then the title is no longer yours, if it ever was to

begin with.”

He shrugged. “I left no heirs so I feel justified in using it

when I see fit.”

She cast him a look which clearly said that she didn’t know

whether to believe him or not. “Why are you here, vampire?”

He winced and glanced around.  “I have been called many things, including the Devil himself, but I would appreciate it if you would call me Devlin instead of ‘vampire’.”

She inclined her head. “Devlin, why are you here? Surely you do not plan to kill me in front of the King’s brother and half the court?”

“Research, my dear,” he said simply. “It is always to one’s

advantage to know as much as possible about your enemy.”

“And what have you learned in this room full of gossips?”

“Well, they  –  ” he started, but his attention was quickly  drawn to something across the room. “Why is that young man  glaring at me?”

89

Justine turned and promptly let out an embarrassed chuckle.  “That is Philippe de Lorraine, the Duc’s lover. Be careful of that one. He’s beautiful but just as immoral and dangerous  as any vampire in this city.”

“Perhaps we should take a stroll through the gardens? I fear it would complicate my time here if I was forced to kill the  King’s brother’s jealous lover.”

She stared at him incredulous. “Do you think I’ve taken leave of my senses,
 
Monsieur?
 
I will not be taking a stroll in the gardens with a man who has been hired to kill me.”

He leaned in close to her, until his dark eyes filled her

vision. “Ah, but I promise not to kill you tonight.”

She pursed her lips. “That is hardly comforting.”

He laid one hand on his heart. “My word of honour as a

knight, no harm will come to you.”

“I must be mad,” she muttered, but allowed him to take her

hand and place it on his arm.

When they were free of the prying eyes and the gilded confines  of the Duc’s apartment, the tension in Devlin’s body began to ease. Justine was almost disappointed. She had been enjoying the taut feel of his biceps under her hand.

Devlin closed his eyes and inhaled the warm spring air.

“They call you
 
‘le chardonneret  du Roi’
 
, the King’s goldfinch.”

Justine nodded. “your English king called me his ‘French

canary’.”

He rolled his eyes. “Charles, on occasion lacks imagination.

You are much more than a pretty voice.”

90

“Am I?”

“You are, I think, a woman of great fortitude. When your  parents died, leaving you with the care of a baby sister, you  could have scraped out a living doing any number of things.  Instead you ended up the mistress of the King.”

She snorted. “That was not my intention, I assure you. All I

wanted to  do was sing.”

He smiles. “They say you stole a dress from some mantua-

maker.  ” . .

“From the finest dressmaker in Paris,” she assured him.

“And then you ambushed poor Lully outside the Tuileries

one afternoon and convinced him to let you sing for him.”

She stiffened. “I do not know this word ‘ambush’.”

He laughed, knowing that she knew the meaning exactly, and continued on. “And when the King first saw you and heard your voice, you and your sister never wanted for anything again.  It is an amazing story.”

“And do you not think less of me for making my fortune in

such a way?” After all, her own sister did.

He gave her an odd look. “There is no shame in being the mistress of a king. It’s a position of great power and influence. I think less of Louis for letting you go.”

“He needed a spy at the English court. When he asked me if

I would go, I could hardly decline.”

“And Madame de Montespan?” he asked.

91

“When I returned, she had taken my place.”

“Did that not sting a bit?”

Justine shrugged. “When a woman  is out of sight, she is out

of mind. It is the way of kings . . . and men.”

He stopped and turned to her. “You have not been out of my

mind since last night.”

“Such attentiveness must be quite useful for an assassin.”