My Lord Vampire (7 page)

Authors: Alexandra Ivy

BOOK: My Lord Vampire

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It had been a dream, nothing more.

She was not yet so ridiculous that she would be frightened by figments of her imagination. No matter how vivid they had been.

With that brave thought firmly in mind, Simone prepared for the day, but once she had left her chambers she discovered herself lingering over the smallest tasks. It was not that she had been rattled by those disturbing dreams, she swiftly reassured herself. It was just that she was weary from her restless night and not at all in the mood to gad about town.

Devoting the day to overseeing a complete cleaning of the house, as well as a detailed inventory of the linens and silver, Simone ate her dinner alone and then retired to the large library to enjoy a travel book that she had longed to read since she had discovered it on a high shelf several weeks before. When she had been younger she had fantasized about escaping England and her sister to travel the world. Although she no longer felt the burning need to flee, she had never lost the faint desire to simply pack her bags and discover all the wondrous places that beckoned.

Night fell as she continued to read of the daring adventures of a young priest traveling through the Americas when she was interrupted by a wide-eyed maid who dipped a hasty curtsy.

“Pardon me, my lady, but Mr. Soltern has called.”

Mr. Soltern?

Simone surged to her feet, unthinkingly allowing the book to tumble to the rose-patterned carpet. The mere thought of the cold, distasteful gentleman in her home was enough to send a rash of unease over her skin.

“Please, tell him ...”

“Good evening, Lady Gilbert,” Mr. Soltern drawled as he stepped into the library with an icy smile.

Simone snapped her lips closed as she encountered the cold, lifeless gaze. She would have her butler’s head upon a platter, she thought as she battled the heavy sense of dread that suddenly filled the room. It was bad enough that Gideon was allowed to walk in whenever he felt the urge. She would not have every buffoon who called himself a gentleman traipsing through her home.

Especially not a gentleman who made her skin crawl with dislike.

“Mr. Soltern. I did not expect you this evening,” she said stiffly.

He glanced toward the silent maid who abruptly turned and hurried from the room, leaving the two of them alone. Only then did he return that flat gaze to regard her in a measuring fashion.

“Forgive me for intruding, but I did wish to see you as soon as possible.”

Simone swallowed heavily, battling the urge to flee behind the frightened maid. She would not be intimidated in her own home, she sternly chided herself. Not even by this man.

“Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” Without warning he glided forward and placed a small velvet box in her unwilling hands. “I have procured a small gift I hoped would please you.”

Instinctively she took a step back from the frigid air that seemed to shroud about him, regarding the box with suspicion.

“That is very kind, but not at all necessary.”

“I fear it is necessary, my dear,” he retorted with that smile that could have sliced through a diamond. “For some reason you have taken me in dislike and I should very much wish to alter your harsh opinion.”

All too aware of how alone she was with this man, Simone forced herself to give a shake of her head.

“That is absurd.”

“Then I have mistaken your cold disregard?” he demanded.

“We are barely acquainted.”

“An oversight I intend to correct,” he threatened. “Will you not at least open my gift?”

“Very well,” she grudgingly conceded, her fingers fumbling to pull the lid off the box. Her eyes widened in shock at the ornate gold bracelet that lay upon a pillow of satin. “Oh.”

“It is a bracelet that was owned by Anne Boleyn.”

She lifted her gaze in disbelief. “I cannot accept this. It must be priceless.”

He waved his hand in a dismissive motion, carefully studying her startled expression.

“I wish you to have it. Collecting unusual jewelry is rather a hobby of mine.”

“Is it?” she retorted, setting the bracelet aside with a sense of repugnance. Priceless or not, it carried with it a feeling of ill luck. A woman beguiled by wealth and power that led to her death.

A shiver raced down her spine.

She had not been beguiled by wealth or power.

Merely freedom.

“Yes,” Mr. Soltern replied, his gaze shifting to the amulet that suddenly felt heavy about her neck. “And I must admit that I have been quite taken with that amulet you wear. Did you purchase it in London?”

A frown tugged at her brows. What was it about her amulet that created such interest? First Gideon, then the strange figure in her dream, and now this man.

“No, it was given to me,” she said warily.

“Ah, may I inquire by whom?”

The amulet grew warm against her skin, almost as if in a warning.

“A ... friend.”

The cold gaze narrowed. “Perhaps you would direct me to this friend? I would be very interested in viewing any other jewelry the person might possess.”

For reasons she could not put her finger upon Simone discovered herself unwilling to admit that she had been given the amulet by a mad old gypsy. In truth, she did not even wish to have the man staring at it in such an intense fashion. There was something decidedly hungry in that glittering gaze.

“It was a passing acquaintance. I do not know how she could be located,” she retorted in all truth.

“A pity.” His gaze lifted to stab deep into her eyes. “In that event, I would be willing to make an offer for that particular piece.”

Her hand instinctively lifted to cover the amulet. “You wish to buy my necklace?”

“As I said, it is most unusual. It would greatly enhance my collection.”

“No, I thank you. I am fond of the amulet.”

The gaunt countenance hardened at her refusal. “But you have not yet heard my offer. I am prepared to be quite generous.”

Simone shifted uneasily as the air seemed to shimmer with a sudden danger. She was no coward, but there was something about this gentleman that warned her that he could be ruthless when angered.

“I do not doubt your generosity. I simply have no desire to sell the necklace.”

For a tense moment she wondered if he might actually take the necklace by force, then with an obvious effort, Mr. Soltern managed to replace that unnerving smile.

“Understandable. You should, however, have it studied by an expert to determine if it is of historic value. It might very well be a Roman or even Egyptian artifact. I can have it delivered to the appropriate scholars.”

Simone’s grasp upon the necklace tightened. He wanted the amulet. Wanted it with a craving that was nearly tangible.

Was it perhaps an artifact that was worth a fortune? Or perhaps of historic value? Or was it something darker?

“I will consider your offer,” she said cautiously.

He stepped closer, his hands clenched at his side. “It is careless to wait... .”

“Well, well, Tristan, what a delightful surprise,” a dark voice suddenly drawled from the doorway. “I did not expect to discover you here.”

Mr. Soltern flowed with startling speed to confront the intruder. The dangerous prickles in the air became so thick that Simone shivered.

It was a moment before she at last turned her gaze to encounter the familiar countenance of Gideon.

For once she was not at all opposed to his ill mannered intrusion into her home. It occurred to her that he was perhaps the one gentleman in all of London who would not be easily intimidated by Mr. Soltern.

“Gideon,” the older gentleman greeted in metallic tones. “A pleasure, as always.”

Ignoring Simone completely, Gideon moved farther into the room, his lean form appearing reassuringly large in the silky black coat and pantaloons.

“Is it?” With a lift of a midnight brow, Gideon peered down his thin nose. “I thought perhaps you were avoiding me. You have been very elusive.”

“I have been rather occupied.” Mr. Soltern allowed a small silence to stretch before he curled the corner of his lips in a sneering smile. “I do trust you received the gift I left for you last evening?”

Although Simone could detect no change upon Gideon’s aloof countenance, she sensed him bristle at the taunting words. She was also oddly certain that she did not wish to know what this “gift” might have been.

“As predictably tedious as ever, Tristan. I would have hoped the years would teach you a measure of finesse if nothing else,” he murmured in silky insult.

Mr. Soltern gave a low, nerve-rasping chuckle. “I am sorry you were disappointed. Still, you will perhaps prefer the trifling present I discovered for you earlier this evening. I assure you that I delighted in procuring it for you.”

The dark eyes flared with loathing before Gideon managed to regain control of his brief display of emotion.

“A waste of your time.”

Mr. Soltern’s expression was smug, as if delighted at having managed to stir the younger gentleman’s wrath.

“I think not. Besides, it was more a pleasure than duty.”

Gideon briefly glanced toward the warily suspicious Simone before returning his attention to the gentleman standing in the center of the room.

“This is not the place for our private conversation. Perhaps you will join me at my home?”

“A tempting offer, of course, but I fear I have an appointment.” Without warning Mr. Soltern turned toward Simone and swept a bow. “My dear Lady Gilbert, I do hope you will consider my offer.”

Unnerved to be once again pinned by that relentless gaze, Simone gave a vague shrug.

“I will think upon it.”

“Very well. I shall call later in the week.” Mr. Soltern offered a slight nod toward Gideon. “We shall no doubt meet again. Now I must be off.”

Moving with a supple grace the gentleman was across the room and disappearing from the room before Gideon could protest. He watched his retreat with a dark frown.

Deeply relieved to be free of the company of Mr. Soltern, Simone drew in a shaky breath. She did not like the sense she was poised on the edge of a rapier. Nor the ridiculous desire to wash herself after encountering the older gentleman.

It made her feel vulnerable in a manner she had thought to put behind her long ago.

And she certainly did not like the realization that she had been deeply grateful that Gideon had once again rudely intruded into her home without so much as an apology.

She was an independent woman who depended upon no one but herself. She was not about to become one of those weak, clinging ladies who could not manage to make do without a gentleman to lean upon.

She sucked in a deep breath as she turned her attention to the man still regarding the empty doorway.

“I suppose I owe you my gratitude for ridding me of Mr. Soltern... .” Her stiff words abruptly trailed away as Gideon slipped swiftly toward the door and left her standing alone in the room without so much as glancing in her direction.

Her mouth hung open in shock at his rude departure.
Of all the nerve,
she seethed in disbelief. It was not bad enough that he had thrust his way into her home, but to disappear without so much as a word went beyond all bearing.

Did he think her home was his to come and go as he pleased?

Did he possess no manners whatsoever?

Conveniently forgetting her earlier relief at his timely arrival she planted her hands upon her hips and dredged up the most condemning blasphemy she could conjure.

“Men.”

Chapter 5

No human eye could have detected the shadow that moved down the streets of London with enough stealth that the dust did not so much as stir beneath his black boots.

Gideon, however, was unconcerned with human eyes. He knew quite well that Tristan could easily detect his form no matter how he clung to the shadows. And that with his shape-shifting powers he could trap him without warning.

Still he continued to follow the faint scent that Tristan had left behind when he had fled Simone’s home. After nearly a fortnight in London he was no closer to finding the vampire’s hidden lair and he was becoming impatient with his failure.

No, more than impatient, he reluctantly acknowledged.

After Tristan had taunted him by providing yet another gift for him, his control had nearly snapped.

He did not doubt that there would be another golden-haired woman discovered upon the streets of London. A stark warning that Tristan was all too aware of his growing weakness toward Lady Gilbert. A weakness he would use to his full advantage.

His teeth clenched as he made his way past the British Museum on Great Russell Street and turned onto the narrow, dirty street ridiculously claiming the title of Queen Street. How long would it be before Tristan became infuriated enough to forget that killing Simone would destroy the Medallion as well? His pride and ambition were far too deeply ingrained to allow him to accept defeat gracefully.

Swiftly becoming lost in the maze of squares, Gideon picked up his pace. The haunting scent of Tristan was much nearer. Perhaps with a bit of luck ...

Gideon ground out a curse as he entered a darkened alley and was abruptly confronted by a thick mist that reached out to strike a razor-thin cut across his cheek. His fingers lifted to touch the warm blood that welled from the slice, inwardly chiding himself for his stupidity.

He had been fully on guard and yet he still had walked blindly into the ambush. A certain warning that his growing desperation to put an end to Tristan was rattling the cold logic he had always taken such pride in.

As if sensing his self-disgust, Tristan gave an eerie chuckle as he swirled in mist before Gideon.

“You have grown slow and weak, Gideon, hiding behind the Veil. Or is it from hiding behind the skirts of a woman?” he taunted.

“You begin to annoy me,” Gideon retorted in icy tones. “Show yourself.”

“So that you can strike that dagger you are hiding in your jacket into my heart? I think not.”

Gideon forced a mocking smile to his stiff lips. “You always were a coward, Tristan, choosing to prey on those weaker than yourself and hiding in the shadows.”

The mist briefly swirled, as if Gideon had managed to strike a raw nerve.

“And you have always been an arrogant prig. However did the Great Council compel you to return to this world of disgusting, inferior humans?”

Slipping his hand into the jacket to grasp the hilt of the dagger, Gideon gave a shrug. He would not be caught off guard again.

“Unlike you I comprehend my duty to the vampires. I seek our glory, not our destruction.”

“Glory?” There was a rasping laugh. “Cowering behind that ridiculous Veil like we are pathetic weaklings rather than the masters of all? These mortals should be our servants; they should bow before us and feed our lust. They should tremble in fear at the mere thought of our presence.”

It was a call that had been made by more than one vampire since they had left the world behind. There had always been those who desired to conquer and enslave the weak. Tristan, however, had taken the need for conquest to near madness.

To even think he would seek to destroy the Veil and to challenge the great Nefri herself was unforgivable.

“We do not cower, we seek the higher truth that makes us superior,” he said in proud tones.

The mist shimmered, cloaking Gideon in a sensation of malignant disdain.

“Fah. You are no more than willing chattel to the Great Council. You have become as meek and obedient as well-pampered dogs. And like all leashed dogs you no longer realize you are mere captives. You have forgotten the thrill of the hunt.”

Gideon smoothly stepped back as his features hardened. “You believe it better to wallow in bloodlust like a savage? You are no better than humans.”

“I am free,” Tristan grated in angry tones. “I am out of that prison and I will soon rule this world.”

His hand instinctively tightened upon the dagger. As repulsive as the thought of harming another vampire might be, he would never allow the Veil to be destroyed.

Or Simone be hurt,
a renegade voice whispered in the back of his mind.

“You will return to the Veil, or you will die,” he stated without emotion.

“You think you can challenge me?” There was a low growl before the mist flicked out to slice the other side of his face. “You have become soft ... a mere puppet for the Great Council to toy with as they please. I can destroy you whenever I choose.”

Gideon ignored the stinging pain that lanced through his cheek. He could not afford to be distracted. Poised for another attack, he held the dagger before him.

“Another will take my place,” he said grimly. “Do you think to battle every vampire?”

As if satisfied he had made his point, the mist settled back in the shadows.

“A simple matter once I possess the Medallion.”

“Nefri has ensured you will never gain command of the Medallion.”

The antagonism that lay heavy in the air abruptly lightened with a near smug amusement.

“You believe I cannot lure that golden-haired harlot to my will? It is only a matter of time before she gives me the amulet. And then ...” Tristan paused as if to savor his words. “Ah, then I will teach her a lesson in daring to defy me.”

Gideon struggled to disguise the fierce fury that flared through him. He would not give Tristan the satisfaction of knowing just how vulnerable he was becoming.

It might very well be a fatal mistake.

“Your spells and powers cannot work upon Lady Gilbert as long as she is protected by Nefri.”

“I have no need of spells to seduce a mere mortal,” the vampire sneered, his voice echoing through the darkened alley. “Very soon she will be anxious to offer me whatever I desire. And if you ask very, very nicely I might even allow you to watch as I feast upon her.”

Gideon took a step forward before he could halt the revealing movement. It was all too easy to imagine the slender woman broken and bloodied by the vengeful renegade. Without the Medallion she would be helpless against a vampire.

“You will die,” he growled in rough tones.

A taunting laugh came from the swirl of mist. “How very delicious. The aloof, oh so superior Gideon, lusting after a disgusting human. It really is priceless.”

“I lust to bring an end to the traitors who have turned their backs on their own people,” he rasped, his fury nearly overwhelming him.

“I would suggest that you take your pleasure with Lady Gilbert swiftly. When I have finished with her I fear that she will not be nearly so lovely.”

Clenching the dagger Gideon stepped forward, his features taut with simmering danger.

“Face me, Tristan,” he growled.

Just down the alley a piercing scream split the night air, making Gideon stiffen with warning. Surprisingly he heard a low chuckle come from the mist before it was drifting toward the street.

“Enjoy my present, Gideon.”

For a moment Gideon hesitated, seething with the need to follow the traitor and finish their business one way or another. Only the knowledge that Tristan might very well be leading him into yet another ambush made him check in his impatience.

He had recklessly allowed himself to be lured once this evening. He would not be goaded again. On the next occasion their confrontation would be a time and place of his choosing.

Replacing the dagger Gideon moved down the alley toward the screams that still echoed through the air. He already suspected what he would find. Tristan had deliberately led him here for a purpose other than taunting him.

The elder woman stood in a pool of light that came from the open door to the lodging house.

“What is the matter?” he demanded as he stepped beside her.

“Molly. She’s ...”

“Where?” he impatiently cut into her shuddering words.

She pointed toward the open door. “There.”

With a thick reluctance Gideon stepped forward, his gaze discovering the crumpled form of a young woman. It took only a moment to realize that she had been savagely attacked. He could still smell the death and terror that lingered in the air.

His lips tightened as his gaze traveled over the long golden hair that shimmered in the flickering candlelight.

Tristan.

Abruptly he turned toward the woman silently weeping for the dead maiden.

“Find the Watch.”

Cutting the last thread upon the hem, Simone held up the shimmering lilac gown that she had just completed.

“Oh, ’tis beautiful, my lady.” The maid sighed as she ran her hands over the smooth satin skirt.

Simone could not deny a measure of pride.

The floating concoction of satin and lace was indeed beautiful and highly unusual with its clever flounced hem that revealed the ivory underskirt and the bodice of spidery lace. As with all of her gowns, however, it possessed a high back that cupped the back of her neck. She could not afford to allow a sudden shift in the shimmering material to reveal the scars that she hid.

“Yes, I am quite pleased with the material,” she murmured in satisfaction. “No doubt it has been smuggled into London, but it is far too lovely to go to waste.”

“Will you trim it with the satin roses you purchased last week?” the maid demanded.

Simone briefly considered the delicate gown, then gave a firm shake of her head.

“No, they are too heavy for such a gown. I believe the seed pearls will be the best.”

“A wise choice, my dear,” a darkly familiar voice complimented from the open French doors.

Spinning about, Simone confronted the intruder with an exasperated frown. Attired yet again in black with a smoke-gray waistcoat and snowy white cravat and with his ebony hair tied at the nape of his neck he appeared annoyingly refreshed—while she knew that she was pale and her eyes shadowed from a sleepless night.

The disturbance of having Mr. Soltern in her home, combined with Gideon’s abrupt departure had been unnerving enough without risking a return of the nightmares that had begun to plague her. She had spent most of the long night pacing the floor of her chamber, or peering out of her window with a disturbing sense that she was being watched by unseen eyes.

She had hoped that a morning spent finishing the lovely ball gown would ease the tension that gripped her. There was something very relaxing in simply working with her hands. Now, she felt that foreboding returning.

Gideon was trouble walking.

Whenever he appeared her nerves were certain to be shredded and left raw. Not to mention the vague sense of danger he carried with him.

And yet ...

Yet, she could not deny a swirl of sheer excitement that raced through her as she met that midnight gaze. She suddenly felt more alive, more vibrantly aware of being a woman in his presence.

He might be trouble, but she could not deny a burning desire to brand him as her own. She wanted to ensnare him to her will, and ensure he was incapable of walking away.

It was all vastly confusing.

“Gideon,” she forced herself to greet him as he calmly stepped into the room and regarded the piles of discarded material and scraps of lace. “It is customary to arrive at the front door and await to have yourself announced. Do you possess no sense of gentlemanly behavior at all?”

He shrugged as he lifted his head to offer her a faint smile. “Very few.”

Knowing it was impossible to shame him into leaving, Simone waved a hand toward the curious maid. She did not wish her servants to realize she was nearly always at the mercy of this arrogant gentleman.

“That will be all, Daisy.”

With a longing glance toward the fiercely handsome gentleman the maid gave a swift curtsy.

“Yes, my lady.”

Waiting until they were alone, Simone folded her arms around her waist.

“Well, now that you are here, what do you want?”

Rather than answering her question Gideon reached out pale fingers to lightly stroke the satin of her ball gown.

“Quite striking. You will be breathtaking in this, of course. The obvious question is why.”

She frowned at his low words. “What?”