My Lord Vampire

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Alexandra Ivy and her Guardians of Eternity series!

DARKNESS UNLEASHED

“Darkness Unleashed is oh, so hot and wonderfully dangerous. I can’t wait for the next installment!” Gena Showalter, New York Times bestselling author

“Darkness Unleashed is a fun ride! Jagr is YUMMY!”

Jade Lee, USA Today bestselling author

DARKNESS REVEALED

“A darkly erotic adventure with a vampire hero who can bite me anytime! Readers will adore Cezar’s deliciously romantic craving for feisty, idealistic Anna Randal.”

Angela Knight, New York Times bestselling author

DARKNESS EVERLASTING

“Ivy again provides vast quantities of adventure, danger and sizzling passion, ensuring her place on the list of rising paranormal stars.”

Romantic Times

EMBRACE THE DARKNESS

“Delivers plenty of atmosphere and hot-blooded seduction.”

Publishers Weekly

“Ivy creates such vivid and complex characters, their emotional struggles feel real even though their exploits are supernatural. A true gift to the genre.”

Romantic Times (Top Pick!)

WHEN DARKNESS COMES

“Hot author Ivy bursts into the paranormal scene and her vampire trilogy launch is not to be missed. A big plus in this novel are the excellent characters, which help build a believable world with paranormal elements and highly passionate romance. Vivid secondary characters help set the stage and anticipation level for further chapters. Ivy is definitely an author with huge potential in the paranormal genre.”

Romantic Times (Top Pick!)

Books by Alexandra Ivy

WHEN DARKNESS COMES

EMBRACE THE DARKNESS

DARKNESS EVERLASTING

DARKNESS REVEALED

DARKNESS UNLEASHED

BEYOND THE DARKNESS

DEVOURED BY DARKNESS

BOUND BY DARKNESS

MY LORD VAMPIRE

And don’t miss these Guardians of Eternity novellas

TAKEN BY DARKNESS in YOURS FOR ETERNITY

DARKNESS ETERNAL in SUPERNATURAL

WHERE DARKNESS LIVES in THE REAL WEREWIVES OF VAMPIRE COUNTY

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

My lord Vampire

IMMORTAL ROGUES

ALEXANDRA IVY

ZEBRA BOOKS

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

Praise for

New York Times

bestselling author Alexandra Ivy and her

Guardians of Eternity

series!

Books by Alexandra Ivy

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

-

Behind the Veil

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Teaser chapter

Teaser chapter

Copyright Page

For Chance and Alexander,

my very own vampires

Prologue

Behind the Veil

Gideon glided through the vaulted marble corridors of the Great Hall. A thick hush filled the ancient air, stirred only by the occasional rush of a scurrying servant. It was an unnatural silence. As a rule the spiderweb of corridors were filled with vampires seeking entrance to the vast library or attending the endless debates in one of the antechambers. There was no greater duty for a vampire than searching for knowledge. It was an insatiable thirst, and the only true desire that had remained since they had left the mortal plane to exist behind the Veil.

It had been nearly two hundred years since the great vampire Nefri had used the Medallion to create the Veil. Two hundred years of serenity and utter peace.

They had left behind the chaos and compulsive passions of the mortal world. They had also left behind the bloodlust that had made vampires as savage and brutal as the humans they preyed upon.

Since then it had been a time of immeasurable greatness for the Immortal Ones. Without the passions and hungers of the flesh they had reached a superior society that transcended any loss of powers they had suffered. Shape-shifting and mist walking that came only from the drinking of human blood were talents needed only for those who hunted.

And vampires no longer hunted.

Or they had not until this morning, Gideon sternly corrected.

A frown marred the fiercely elegant features as he considered the shocking revelations the Great Council had bestowed upon him.

It was near sacrilege to consider the notion that there would be traitors among the vampires. It was simply assumed that they had evolved far beyond petty jealousy and the lust for power. Surely such superior beings would be above the flaws of mere mortals?

Unfortunately there was no means of denying the startling truth that three powerful vampires had recently slipped through the Veil to the world of men. Or that they intended to battle for control of the Medallion.

A chill threatened to pierce the magnificent calm that had shrouded about Gideon for two centuries.

The traitors could not be allowed to gain command of the ancient artifact. With such raw power they could do untold damage.

Including ripping the Veil to shreds and challenging the authority of the Great Council itself.

The chaos that would ensue did not bear imagining, Gideon acknowledged with cold determination.

Thank blessed Nefri that she had possessed the sense to realize the impending danger and had managed to separate the Medallion. She had then given the pieces to three maidens who had no notion of the power they held.

The desperate measure had momentarily protected the Medallion from the clutches of the renegades, but it would only be a matter of time before they went in search of the maidens.

Which was precisely why he had been summoned to the Great Hall.

Almost reluctantly he glanced down at the dagger he held in his long, pale fingers. In the soft light it appeared nondescript with a smooth ivory handle. Only the trained eye of a vampire could detect the unmistakable shimmer of magic that rippled over the steel blade.

His frown deepened.

The mere thought of killing another vampire was utterly repellant. It was perhaps the greatest of sins. He would as soon sacrifice himself. But he had his commands.

He, Lucien and Sebastian were commanded to travel through the Veil and protect the maidens who unwittingly held the Medallion.

By any means necessary.

His fingers clenched about the dagger.

Any means.

Chapter 1

Simone, Lady Gilbert, allowed a satisfied smile to curve her lips.

The stuccoed town house in the southern end of Park Lane was a Palladian masterpiece. Although not the largest home in London it was undoubtedly one of the most elegant with its wide marble foyer and double staircase that led to a long picture gallery. There was a clever balcony that overlooked the park that had been transformed into a conservatory and a formal drawing room with a great deal of gilding and masterpieces from Flemish artists. As the crowning glory the ballroom held a hint of Versailles with surrounding mirrors, heavy chandeliers and French furnishings.

It was a home fit for a Countess.

And it was all hers.

The smug satisfaction only deepened as Simone allowed her emerald green gaze to wander over the numerous guests who filled the crimson and gold parlor. Politicians, poets, scholars and aristocrats mingled together in happy harmony. Her salons were famous for assembling only the brightest, most intellectual of London's society, and invitations were battled over more fiercely than any voucher to Almack’s. In fact, she had been forced to hire a large butler who had one time been a champion in the boxing ring to guard her door from those who would force their way into her home. It appeared that anyone who wished to be considered all the rage had to make an appearance at a party hosted by the “Wicked Temptress.”

Not bad for a woman who had spent the past twenty-three years isolated in a remote part of Devonshire and who had never thought to enter society, let alone become the undoubted leader.

“Another stunning success, my temptress,” a low, seductive voice whispered close to her ear.

Simone gave a last glance to ensure all was well before turning to greet the short, portly gentleman who was regarding her like a prospective morsel he longed to have a taste of.

“Good evening, Lord Braceton,” she murmured, tilting her head so that her long, shimmering blond hair tumbled over her shoulders left bare by her dark emerald gown. She heard the older gentleman suck in a breath and she hid a satisfied smile. Since her arrival in London she had discovered her beauty was a potent weapon that could not be underestimated. Along with a bold, determined style and cunning elusiveness she had managed to create precisely the image best to tantalize the jaded members of town. “I trust you are enjoying your evening?”

An intelligence that had led him to be one of the most dangerous and powerful politicians in the House of Lords sparkled in his blue eyes.

“As well as could be expected considering I would prefer to damn this lot of insufferable bores to the netherworld so that we could be alone.”

“Bores?” She arched a golden brow. “I will have you know that I carefully chose each guest for their ability to charm, tantalize or entertain me.”

“Indeed?” The gentleman stepped closer, his gaze sweeping hungrily over her slender curves. “And why was I chosen, my dear? To tantalize, I hope.”

“Comic relief, of course,” she smoothly parried.

He stiffened briefly at the insult, then a grudging smile curved his thick lips.

“Such cruelty from such beauty,” he mourned softly. “Tell me what I must do to win that cold heart of yours.”

Simone gently waved her ivory-handled fan, her gaze returning to study the guests that moved through the room.

“I do not believe it is my heart you seek to win, my lord.”

“Perhaps not.” He gave a chuckle. “A fortunate thing considering that most among society do not believe that you possess the finer sensibilities. The more romantic, of course, presume that you buried your ability to love with your dear, departed husband. The more envious claim you were born heartless.”

It was a testament to her sheer strength of will that Simone managed to appear languidly unconcerned at the charge. She briefly wondered what this gentleman would say if she revealed that she had felt nothing but contempt for Lord Gilbert, and that it had been her own sister who had destroyed her youthful heart.

“Ah, and what do you believe?” she drawled with supreme unconcern.

Lord Braceton shifted closer, risking one of Simone’s notorious flayings.

“I believe you are simply awaiting the proper gentleman to awaken your slumbering emotions. No matter how cold and aloof you might wish to appear you cannot completely disguise the heat that shimmers in your blood. It is why we poor sods continue to flutter about you like moths drawn to the flame. No matter how often you singe our battered pride we simply cannot resist temptation.”

Simone deliberately shifted away from the portly form. Although she was quite willing to indulge in a bit of flirtation, she was always careful to ensure that none of her admirers managed to convince themselves that she would be willing to be seduced.

“How very dramatic you are on this evening intended for frivolous pleasure,” she lightly chastised, her emerald eyes darkening with a hint of warning. “The price no doubt of possessing a flamboyant and highly temperamental actress as your current lover.”

There was a startled silence at Simone’s daring words before his lordship tilted back his head to laugh with rich enjoyment.

“A meaningless distraction until the object of my desire agrees to halt tormenting me,” he assured her with a twinkling gaze.

Simone gave a shake of her head at his persistence. “Really, my lord ...” She began only to tense as she felt an odd prickle race over her skin.

A chill inched down her spine as Simone realized that someone from across the room was watching her. Watching her with such intensity that she could physically feel the relentless gaze as it made a lazy survey of her slender form.

It was a sensation she had never experienced before, and she discovered that there was something unnervingly intimate in the warm heat gliding over her skin.

Thrusting aside the strange sense of unease, Simone forced herself to turn and discover the source of that bothersome gaze.

It took a moment to discover the tall gentleman standing alone in a distant corner, but when she at last caught sight of him, her heart stuttered to a sudden halt.

Although he was properly attired in a black coat, pantaloons and a crisply tied cravat, he bore no resemblance to the other gentlemen that lounged about the room.

Well over six feet there was a raw, elegant power in his lean form that Simone could sense even at a distance. It was in the manner he leaned negligently against a marble column and in the arrogant tilt of his head. Her gaze narrowed as she studied the pale, finely chiseled features that were framed by his long, satin hair the shade of polished ebony.

His male beauty was enough to steal her breath.

Against her will she found herself lingering upon the aquiline nose, the high thrust of his cheekbones and sensuous curve of his lips. There was a compelling strength and unrelenting pride etched into those features that sent a rash of warning down her spine.

This was not a gentleman who could be toyed with and kept at a safe distance. He was a conqueror who would stride through the world and take what he desired.

Then, she lifted her head to meet the black, brooding gaze and her knees nearly gave way.

There was a searing heat in those eyes that flared across the room and swept through her body. Simone reeled in startled bewilderment as she was helplessly trapped by that dark regard.

Suddenly she understood precisely how a fly felt when it stumbled into the web of a spider.

“Dear heavens,” she whispered softly.

At last realizing that he had lost her attention, Lord Braceton turned to follow her gaze.

“What?”

“Who is that gentleman?” she demanded as she struggled to regain command of her shattered composure.

The older man heaved a heavy sigh. “Mr. Gideon Ravel. He just arrived in London with his two cousins from the Continent. Seems he’s related to some aristocratic family or other. They made quite a stir when they appeared at the Croswell’s ball last week.”

A shiver raced through her. She could imagine that this man would make a stir wherever he might be. Even now her guests were glancing in the stranger’s direction and whispering in low voices. Mr. Ravel remained splendidly unconcerned at the obvious interest in his arrival as he continued to regard her with that unwavering gaze.

Simone unconsciously squared her shoulders as she realized that she was staring at the man like a half-wit.

This was her home.

And no one entered it without her invitation.

No one.

“How the devil did he manage to get past Bartson?” she gritted in annoyance.

At her side Lord Braceton gave a shrug. “Perhaps he came with one of your other guests.”

“Impossible. Only those with invitations are allowed to enter. Excuse me.”

Without awaiting her companion’s response, Simone swept through the mingling crowd toward the gentleman watching her with that faintly mocking smile. At the same moment an elderly gentleman stepped to join the stranger, attempting to claim his attention, although that black gaze remained firmly trained upon her flushed countenance.

A rather cowardly urge to wait until he was once again alone swept through Simone before she was swiftly thrusting it aside.

What the blazes was wrong with her? She was no longer a cowering maiden who cringed at the mere hint of a threat. After the death of her sister she had refused to be frightened of anyone ever again.

Regardless if that anyone happened to be a towering, black-haired devil with eyes of midnight.

Keeping that thought firmly in the forefront of her mind, Simone swept to a halt directly in front of the intruder, her smile intact as the elderly gentleman next to him turned to regard her with a mild lift of his brows.

“Good evening, Lord Tydale,” she murmured, her gaze never wavering from the midnight eyes.

Simone discovered her throat dangerously dry as she felt the smoldering power of the stranger reach out to wrap about her. Botheration. She had never encountered anyone who unsettled her in such a fashion. The realization only sharpened her temper.

“Ah, our charming hostess.” Tydale performed a respectable bow, politely ignoring the fact that his two companions were far too consumed with one another to bother glancing in his direction. “My dear, you are appearing as devilishly delectable as always. You really must confess the name of your modiste. It is unconscionable that the other ladies in the Ton must always pale in comparison.”

Simone’s smile thinned. No one but her servants knew that she designed and stitched her own gowns. Not only because she truly enjoyed creating the lovely dresses, but because she could not possibly allow a modiste to catch a glimpse of her in a mere shift. Her charade would be over as swiftly as it had begun.

“That is entirely the point of keeping her name secret,” she forced herself to say in light tones.

“So wicked,” the elderly gentleman chided.

“I do not believe I have been introduced to your companion.”

“Actually I am not at all certain I wish to oblige you with an introduction, Simone,” Lord Tydale teased, clearly sensing the silent battle of wills that hung heavy in the air. “After only a week this gentleman has managed to wreak havoc among the fairer sex. I daresay there is not a maiden in London who has not tossed her heart at his feet.”

She slowly arched her brows as she regarded Mr. Ravel. “Since I have never been foolish enough to toss my heart at any gentleman’s feet, I believe you are safe in making the introduction.”

Tydale heaved a resigned sigh. “Oh, very well, but do not say I did not attempt to warn you of his dastardly charm. Lady Gilbert, may I make you known to Mr. Ravel?”

Fiercely aware of that haughty black stare, Simone sank into a shallow curtsy.

“Mr. Ravel.”

His bow was even more brief. “Lady Gilbert.”

Simone gritted her teeth. “Lord Tydale, would you be kind enough to procure me a glass of champagne?”

There was a moment’s pause before the older man gave a reluctant grimace. “But of course. I shall return.”

Lord Tydale grudgingly turned to move away, and Mr. Ravel boldly flicked his gaze over her slender form.

“Do all gentlemen leap to your commands so swiftly, Lady Gilbert?”

Simone was startled by the soft, seductively dark tones. There was a faint trace of an accent but it oddly only made his voice more pleasing.

She gave an unwitting shake of her head, attempting to clear her suddenly thick thoughts.

There was something ... something drawing her into a strange sense of lethargy that made it difficult to think of anything beyond the tempting beauty of his ebony eyes.

She swayed forward, nearly lost in the darkness before she was belatedly grasping her elusive anger and gathering it about her like a tattered shroud. She tilted her chin upward.

“Those who wish to please me,” she said in an admirably steady voice.

Something that might have been surprise rippled over the pale, elegant features before Mr. Ravel allowed his lips to curl upward.

“Ah, a woman who demands obedience,” he mocked. “Tell me, my dear, do you not find admirers with no will of their own rather tedious? There are, after all, faithful hounds if you wish utter submission. A gentleman of genuine strength could provide a great deal more. Anything you could desire.”

Her irritation deepened. How dare he sneak into her home, blatantly stare at her as if she were a common tart and then treat her with such aloof amusement?

“I understand that you are relatively new to London.”

He shrugged. “I arrived last week.”

“From the Continent?”

“Yes.”

She glared into the unearthly magnificence of his countenance. “Alone?”

“No. I have two cousins who traveled with me. They were unfortunately unable to join me this evening.”

Her lips tightened at the implication that his cousins would have been as arrogant as he in thrusting themselves into a gathering where they were not invited.

“Are you visiting family?”

“No, I have a small commission to be discharged and then I shall return to my home.”

“And where precisely is your home?” she persisted, refusing to be daunted by the cool haughtiness etched into his expression.

The pale slender fingers lifted to absently play with a diamond pin in the folds of his cravat. She discovered herself nearly hypnotized by the languid movement. He possessed the hands of an artist, she thought fuzzily. How would it feel to have those fingers stroking her overheated skin ...

Simone shuddered in shock as she hastily thrust the renegade thought away.

“You are very inquisitive,” he drawled in those smoky tones.

“Am I?” She forced herself to meet that disturbing gaze squarely. “Well, perhaps that is because I am unaccustomed to having strangers invade my home. I am very select in who receives an invitation.”

“Ah.” He remained supremely unconcerned at her insult. “A wise precaution, no doubt.”

“I think so. It would not do to have a clever encroacher thrusting their way into society.”

“An encroacher?” A chiseled ebony brow slowly lifted. “You do not believe anyone would possess the audacity to boldly enter society without the proper bloodlines ?”

A near hysterical giggle rose to her throat before she sternly subdued it. What was the matter with her? She would give all away if she were not careful.

“Yes, I do.”

The dark eyes seemed to narrow. “An interesting notion.”

Realizing she was treading dangerous waters, Simone prepared to take a more direct approach. Clearly the gentleman could not be shamed by more subtle means.

“I believe, sir, you are being deliberately obtuse,” she charged in low tones.

The thick brow inched higher. “Deliberately? Could it not be that I am merely unintentionally obtuse? After all, the proper bloodlines have never ensured intelligence.”

Her teeth gritted. “How did you enter my home?”

“I assure you I did not materialize from thin air.” He appeared amused by her rising irritation. “I walked through the front door as any proper guest would do.”

“Impossible,” Simone retorted, thinking of the large, barrel-chested Bartson. No matter how dangerous this man might be he could not have bested her servant without a very noisy struggle. “My butler would never have allowed anyone in without an invitation.”

He offered an elegant shrug. “He was quite understanding when I revealed that I had only recently arrived in London. I assured him that had you known of my presence you most certainly would have desired me to attend your elegant gathering. We are, after all, destined to be quite intimately acquainted.”

Intimately?

A feather of fear whispered through her heart.

He sounded so utterly confident. So sure of himself.

She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Bartson would never have believed such nonsense.”

Those fingers stilled upon the diamond pin. “Why not? It is the simple truth.”

Once again she felt that compelling force of him reach out to wrap about her. It was almost tangible and Simone battled to clear her foggy mind.

“I think you must be mad,” she whispered with an unconscious frown.

Without warning the beautiful male features hardened and a glitter entered the black eyes.

“You have yet to know true madness,” he informed her in low tones. “But you will. And very soon I fear.”

She took an abrupt step backward, barely preventing herself from glancing about and ensuring that she was still surrounded by glittering guests.

She would not be frightened nor intimidated, she sternly reminded herself. Not again.

“Why are you here?”

Rather surprisingly he allowed his gaze to drift downward, lingering for a long moment upon the golden Medallion that she wore upon a slender chain. Oddly the metal seemed almost to warm as it lay between the curves of her breasts.

“To fulfill destiny, my dear Lady Gilbert. Soon enough you will be grateful for my presence.”

She blinked at his mysterious words, her fingers unconsciously reaching up to grasp the Medallion in a tight grip.

“Highly doubtful,” she forced herself to mutter. “I wish you to leave my home, sir.”

There was a ripple of muscles as he straightened from the column and towered over her.

“Is that a command?”

“I ... yes.”

Their gazes locked and clashed before a chilled smile curved the sensuous lips.

“A word of warning, my dear. Unlike these gentlemen whom you regard as mere flunkies, you cannot command me, or seduce me to your will. We will play this game by my rules.”

Simone did not need the warning. Everything about this remote, elegant stranger spoke of danger. She was not a fool.

“There is to be no game between us at all,” she informed him in cold tones. “Indeed, I never intend to set eyes upon you again.”

“A rather difficult task considering that I will be calling upon you tomorrow.”

She stiffened at his audacity. What the devil did this man want from her?

“Do not dare,” she warned, her emerald eyes flashing with fire. “You will be turned away at the door.”

Indifferent to her anger, Mr. Ravel smoothly reached out to grasp her hand before she even realized his intent. Simone caught her breath as searing heat shivered over her gloveless fingers, her stomach clenching in the oddest manner. She was so startled by the unexpected sensations she did not even protest as he lowered his head and stroked his warm lips over the inner skin of her wrist. Her heart stuttered, nearly coming to a complete halt before abruptly racing out of control. His lips barely caressed her, yet she felt as if she had been branded by his touch.

Her eyes were wide and darkened with a traitorous awareness when he slowly lifted his head to sweep his midnight gaze over her flushed countenance.

“You underestimate my powers of persuasion. A dangerous fault,” he murmured, allowing her hand to drop so that he could reach up to stroke the silky strands of her golden hair. “Wear your hair down again tomorrow. I find it quite enticing.”

With her knees shaking and her blood far warmer than it should be, Simone gaped at him in outrage.

“Why you ...” She began to stammer, only to realize there were not words to express her tumultuous emotions.

His smile widened. “Yes?”

Realizing that she had at last encountered a gentleman whom she could not tame to her satisfaction, Simone accepted that the only thing left was a dignified retreat. It was far too late to wish that she had simply ignored his unwelcome presence and maintained a cool disdain. Now she had to hope that his stay in London would be very brief indeed.

“Good night, Mr. Ravel,” she retorted in tight tones. “I would say it has been a pleasure, but not even good manners can force such a lie to my lips.”

His fingers drifted from her hair to lightly brush her cheek. “Perhaps it has not been a pleasure, but you will think of me tonight, my dear. Until tomorrow.”

Simone did not wait for his elegant bow.

Feeling more uneasy than she had since the first days she had arrived alone and frightened in London, Simone turned on her heel and fled through the room.

Gideon slipped through the shadows of the garden with fluid ease. With his black cape rippling about his lean form he blended into darkness with silent ease. Not even the dog sleeping near the hedge took note as he drifted past and headed toward the mews.

Not far from where he walked the light and music spilled from Lady Gilbert’s town house onto the neatly pruned roses. Barely aware of what he did, Gideon slowed and regarded the large house.

He was still adjusting to returning to the world of mortals.

It had not been an easy task.

His body felt heavy and plagued with the desires it had not experienced in two centuries. Hunger, passion, and overall the intoxicating scent of warm blood. Like an aphrodisiac it shrouded Gideon in temptation. So much power there for the taking. Heady, delicious power. He would be invincible, a seductive voice whispered deep in his heart. A vampire of old who walked through the night in mist and shadow, taking pleasure where he chose and drowning himself in the passions of his human flesh.

Gideon discovered himself trembling with the effort to control his suddenly raging emotions. He had underestimated the dark lure of lust. Power, passion and a primitive thirst to conquer warred with the cold command that was his birthright.

Gideon gave a sharp shake of his head. Through the windows of the town house he could make out the slender outline of Simone Gilbert.

Ah, now that was temptation, indeed.

Sweet temptation.

He gave a low snarl of annoyance.

He had not expected to find the maiden a beautiful minx with hair of spun gold and eyes that dared him to taste of her smoldering desire. Nor that he would react with such force to her enticing presence.

He had come to save his world from the traitors who would destroy it, he reminded himself with a stern chastisement. He could not afford to be distracted by the weakness of his flesh.

A hint of a frown marred his noble brow.

There were bound to be problems, he grimly conceded.

Simone had already revealed a stubborn, wary nature that was certain to revolt if he were to command her to obey his orders. And his subtle attempt at a Compulsion spell had been effectively blocked by the Medallion she wore about her neck. A difficulty he had not expected.

He would have to somehow convince her that she must accept his protection without revealing the true reason for her danger.

And at the same time keep a close guard on the renegades who would do whatever necessary to lay their hands upon that Medallion.

His lips twisted in a cold smile. He could only hope that Lucien and Sebastian were having better luck than he was.

Turning back toward the hedge Gideon continued his gliding path toward the back of the gardens.

Upon arriving in London he had first set about acquiring a home in Mayfair and suitable staff to ensure that he was readily accepted as a foreign noble with the sort of fortune that would buy him entrance to the Ton. After that had been the tedious task of meeting with a tailor and boot maker, as well as buying a proper carriage and horses.

Once he was certain that his image was well established he had swiftly made his way to the stews to discover a small army of street urchins who would act as his eyes and ears throughout town.

Foregoing the more brutal Inscrolling spells that would make humans faithful, but mindless, slaves to a vampire and even the lesser Compulsion spells, Gideon had chosen the simplest means of assuring their loyalty.

Bribery.

Now he silently slid behind the ragged youth that was crouched behind a rosebush. With uncanny swiftness the villain turned to confront him with a knife in his hand. Gideon was suitably impressed by the boy’s ability to sense his presence. Such skill would serve him well.

“Hold, it is I,” he said in low tones.

With a saucy grin the youth gave the knife a twirl before it disappeared into the grimy sleeve of his jacket.

“Guv.”

“Have you noted anything unusual?”

The grin spread across the bony face. “A right fair number of those fancy guests have a queer interest in that tiny building.” He jerked his head toward the shadowed gazebo that was obviously a perfect spot for seduction. “Been tramping in and out all evening.”

A brief image of Simone floating down the path toward the gazebo where he would readily join her in rose-scented passion was fiercely thrust away. Sweet Nefri, did the woman have magic of her own? Had she managed to bewitch him?

Cloaking himself in icy control, Gideon regarded his young servant with a glittering gaze.

“A straight answer if you please.”

The lad dropped his false air of bravado and gave a somber nod. “Yes, sir. Seen a bloke slip through the garden and onto the terrace near an hour ago.”

Gideon was on instant alert. “What did he look like?”

A shudder abruptly raced through the boy. “Difficult to say in the dark, but I do know he was tall and thin with a cape like yer own. Hair seemed a funny silver like, but it could be the moonlight.”

“Tristan,” he muttered, easily able to identify one of the renegades. A vampire with considerable power, he was more crafty than intelligent, and always brutal. He was also notoriously impatient. Gideon would have to consider how best to use that weakness to his own advantage. “He now knows that I am here.”

“Beg pardon, sir, but he gave me a right queer feeling.”

Gideon snapped his attention back to the youth standing before him. “You did not approach him, did you?”

“No.” He gave a violent shake of his head. “I stayed right in the bushes as you said. Still ... I shouldn’t like to come up against him in a dark alley.”

“It would be even worse than you could ever imagine,” Gideon assured him in bleak tones. Were Tristan to discover that this boy was in his employ the vampire would take great delight in torturing him beyond all bearing. “You are to have nothing to do with him. Is that understood?”

The boy turned to spit upon the ground. “Couldn’t pay me enough to tangle with that bugger. Makes me feel like the night me da locked me in a crypt for spilling his gin. Nasty business.”

Gideon arched a brow at the youth’s perception. “You possess a rare insight for a mere mort ... boy,” he smoothly corrected.

That crooked grin returned. “I live on the streets, guv. I would have been dead long ago if I couldn’t smell trouble.”

“I suppose so.” Gideon straightened, knowing he still had a long night ahead of him searching for Tristan’s lair. “You know what is to be done?”

The boy heaved a breath at his question. He had been forced to repeat the command over and over until Gideon was certain that he had it memorized.

“Two of us on duty at all times. If the lady leaves we are to follow at a safe distance. If we notice anything a bit off we are to fetch you at yer home.”

“Anything,” Gideon stressed in tones that rippled through the air. “Even if it appears harmless.”

The lad gave a mocking salute. “Righto, guv.”

Gideon briefly considered the boy then; realizing he had done all that was possible to keep Simone safe, he gave a smooth nod of his head.

“I shall meet with you again tomorrow.”

Turning on his heel Gideon faded into the shadows. No one could see him halt one more time to glance toward the figure still outlined in front of the window before he was slipping through the mews and on the hunt for a silver-haired vampire.

Chapter 2

It had been a long, frustrating night for Gideon.

Upon more than one level, he reluctantly conceded as he moved up the steps to Simone��s town house.

Not only had he failed to find any trace of Tristan as he had searched through the streets of London, he had been unable to banish the thought of a golden-haired beauty with eyes of emeralds.

Even when he had at last accepted the limitations of his physical form and briefly lay upon his bed, he had been haunted by the vision of her graceful features and enticing curves. Curves that he did not doubt would fit perfectly beneath him.

The very fact he could not dismiss her from his thoughts had Gideon leaving his bed and attiring himself in black coat and breeches.

He disliked the sense of being controlled by the sudden passions that plagued him, he acknowledged sourly. The sooner he could track down Tristan and convince him of the futility of his cause, the sooner he could return behind the Veil.

But first he had to call upon Simone and somehow establish a means of forcing her to obey him.

His lips thinned. He would rather face the bloodthirsty Tristan.

Reaching the top step, Gideon patiently waited as the door was pulled open by the pug-faced butler who regarded him with a challenging stare. There was little doubt that the poor servant had been severely chastised for allowing him to pass last night, and that he fully intended to halt him today.

He was visibly bristling with aggression.

Stepping past the servant into the foyer, Gideon handed the man his hat and gloves.

“Mr. Ravel to see Lady Gilbert,” he stated smoothly.

The servant jutted out his chin. “Her ladyship is not at home.”

Gideon waved a slender hand, silently speaking the powerful words that would ensure he was allowed to see the stubborn minx. He did not possess the time for such nonsense.

“I fear you must be mistaken,” he said softly.

“No, I ...” The servant faltered as his thoughts became tangled. “I mean, she does not wish to see you.”

“She will see me.”

There was a strained silence. “I was commanded not to let you in.”

“Now I am commanding you to allow me to pass.”

“I ...”

“Move aside.”

There was a brief struggle before the butler was giving an obedient nod of his head.

“Yes, of course.”

Gideon smiled with cold satisfaction. “I will show myself in.”

“Very well.”

Knowing that it would be some time before the butler realized that he had once again failed his mistress, Gideon moved toward the steps and fluidly swept upward. He paused briefly upon the landing, using his senses to draw him toward a room at the end of the gallery. Even before opening the door he could feel the maiden’s tension as it hummed through the air. Somehow the thought that she was as unnerved as he brought a sense of satisfaction.

Moving with unearthly silence Gideon opened the door and slid into the ivory and gilded room. For a moment he merely watched the woman as she paced across the carpet, appreciating the manner the brilliant sapphire gown drifted about her slender curves, and the play of the afternoon sunlight in the flowing golden curls. There was a vibrant spirit about her that called to the stirring passions deep within him.

With a stern warning at his tenuous restraint he cloaked himself in the cool arrogance that had once seemed so effortless.

He was a superior being with powers beyond the comprehensions of a mere mortal.

No mere maiden was going to disrupt his equanimity. Or at least he would never reveal such weakness.

“Good day, Lady Gilbert,” he greeted in tones as smooth as black velvet.

He watched the slender body stiffen and her hands clench at her side before Simone slowly turned to regard him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“You. How ... ?” She bit off her words as she noted the expectant glint in his dark eyes. With an obvious effort she attempted to appear unconcerned by his sudden arrival. “What are you doing here?”

He waved a negligent hand, refusing to allow his gaze to linger on the translucent perfection of the satin skin revealed by the low bodice. Or to notice the musky scent of rosewater that filled the air.

“What any gentleman would be doing when he has been captivated by a beautiful woman,” he retorted as he strolled toward the center of the room. “I have come to pay homage.”

The emerald eyes flared but surprisingly she did not accept his calculated words with the ease he had hoped.

“Fah.”

“Fah?”

“You are not captivated.” Her expression was one of stubborn suspicion. “And you are not here to pay homage. I have had enough time to consider your odd arrival at my home last evening.”

A ripple of impatience threatened his calm demeanor. There was an unmistakable air of challenge about her that threatened to touch his more primitive nature.

“Indeed?” He stepped closer, hoping to intimidate her by his mere presence. “And what have you concluded ?”

She fiercely held her ground, although he did not miss the manner her fingers clutched at the folds of her skirt.

“That you are not whom you seem to be.”

Gideon regarded her a moment in silence, quite certain that she could not possibly have guessed the truth. Humans never desired to believe that there were powers beyond their comprehension.

“You still believe me to be an encroacher?” he demanded with a lift of his brow. “Shall I cut myself to prove my blue blood?”

Her features tightened, but Gideon suddenly sensed there was more than irritation behind her prickly unease. Despite all her bluff and bravado there was an unmistakable scent of fear in the air. Not a fear of her physical being, he carefully concluded, but a fear that he could harm her in some elusive fashion.

“What do you seek from me?” she demanded in tones that were not quite steady. “Is it money?”

Gideon regarded her with an arrested expression. The fear was now nearly palpable in the air.

She thought he desired money from her?

Why?

“Interesting.” He studied the guarded features that held enough stubborn pride to do a vampire proud. What could possibly force such a woman to harbor such anxiety? “You think I have come to blackmail you?”

A shiver raced through her stiff form but she faced him squarely.

“Have you?”

“I wonder what dark secret you possess,” he murmured softly. “It must be dark indeed to fear blackmail.”

Her gaze narrowed with impatience. “I am in no humor to play these absurd games, sir. What is it that you want?”

He briefly considered the wisdom of using her unwitting weapon to hold her in his power, before he was thrusting it aside. Perhaps he could force her to obey his commands, but he oddly disliked the notion of allowing her to believe he was a cowardly buffoon who would abuse her secrets for his own gain.

What he desired was her trust, he realized with a flare of surprise.

“It is really quite simple,” he informed her in silky tones. “I have come to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Her golden brows pleated in a disbelieving frown. “That is ridiculous. I need no protection.”

Foolish chit.

He briefly thought of Tristan standing upon the terrace last evening. With a single word he could have cloaked himself in mist and entered her home. She would have been dead before she ever realized she was in danger. Only the fact that she possessed the Medallion had thus far saved her. The renegade could not lure her with a spell, nor simply kill her. The Medallion had been bonded to her with a Soul Weave. Unless she gave it freely it could not be taken.

“That is because you do not yet realize your danger,” he informed darkly.

“Danger from whom?”

“That is all I am willing to tell you.”

“This is absurd.” She folded her arms about her waist, unconsciously making the full curve of her bosom all the more visible. Gideon could almost taste the sweet heat of her skin. “I am not about to allow some arrogant stranger to thrust his way into my home under the pretext of a mythical danger you will not even reveal.”

He gazed down the length of his thin nose. “Actually you have little choice in the matter.”

The absolute authority in his tone made a tiny muscle in her jaw pulse. “I was right last night. You are mad.”

Gideon shrugged, not about to indulge her in a futile argument. Protecting the Medallion was his entire purpose in being within the world of mortals. He would do whatever necessary.

Stepping close enough to be bathed in her rose scent, he allowed his gaze to lower toward the shimmering golden Medallion that lay against her white skin.

Although disguised as a simple amulet, his sensitive gaze could easily discern the power that pulsed within. He felt a small tingle of awe at the tangible symbol of Nefri and her glory.

“Tell me, Lady Gilbert, where did you buy that unusual necklace?”

She blinked in bewilderment at his sudden shift in conversation. “What?”

“It is a most interesting design.”

Her lips thinned at his obvious ploy. “We were discussing your unwelcome presence in my home, not my necklace.”

“You have a reason not to discuss the necklace?” he challenged smoothly. “You perhaps stole it?”

Predictably she bristled at his words. “Certainly not. If you must know it was given to me by an old gypsy.”

He wondered what she would do if he were to tell her that it was a priceless relic that possessed untold power. And that the old gypsy had been the mightiest of all vampires.

No doubt she would truly label him mad.

Or run into the streets screaming with fear.

“That would explain the inscription,” he murmured instead.

“You know what it means?” she said in surprise.

Unable to resist temptation Gideon lifted his hand to grasp the Medallion in his fingers.

Whether the temptation was to feel the shimmering power within the amulet or to have an excuse to allow his fingers to rest against the pearly softness of her skin he did not bother to ponder.

“‘Those who search for peace have already discovered wisdom,’” he quoted in low tones.

“Oh,” she breathed, her heart beating frantically at the light touch of his fingers.

“Did this gypsy tell you anything of this amulet?”

“Only some foolishness about never removing it at the risk of a terrible curse and that it can never be stolen, only freely given to another. The usual gypsy nonsense.”

His eyes bored deep within her own, willing her to comprehend just how dangerous it would be to remove the Medallion.

“I would not dismiss her words so swiftly.”

“I ... surely you do not ask me to believe in curses?” she demanded, but without the bluster she had managed before.

“I ask you to believe that there are mysteries in the world that are not easily explained. Mysteries that defy logic.”

“Mysteries such as you?” she charged.

“Yes.”

He could not prevent the faint smile that suddenly curved his lips, nor the fingers that loosened their hold upon the amulet to softly explore the skin that was driving him to distraction. His breath caught as he skimmed the warm silkiness that he had not felt in two centuries.

Dark passions once again stirred within him, making the air feel as thick as honey. This woman possessed something ... something that he had never before experienced. It threatened to unloosen the lust that smoldered deep within him.

His heart slowed as he watched his fingers travel over the sensuous curve of her breast, a building need to brand her as his own hardening his body.

He reached the edge of the bodice before she at last sucked in a sharp breath and gave a shake of her head.

“No. Please do not do that,” she whispered in uneven tones.

It was the very fact he could feel the desire pulsing through her blood that at last brought him to his senses.

This was not a part of his plan, he reminded himself coldly. And whatever the pleasure it might provide it would only add complications to a very dangerous situation.

Still he could not deny that there was something to be said for encouraging her desire, a renegade voice whispered in the back of his mind.

She was too independent to meekly submit to another’s commands, and too stubborn to accept that he might know what was best for her. Perhaps he could subdue her through her own devilish pride.

He had already witnessed the manner she used her beauty as a weapon over weak-willed men. And how indifferent she was to her ability to arouse their desires. It would not be easy for her to accept she might actually feel passion for a gentleman who was indifferent to her potent charms.

Surely such a woman would do whatever necessary to prove that she was irresistible?

Including putting aside her distrust in an effort to lure him into her web. Which would allow him to remain close enough to protect her.

A logical plan. As long as he kept his own passions locked deep within him.

Glancing into the wide emerald eyes, he lifted one dark brow.

“What is the matter? You do not need to be ashamed of your skin. It is as smooth as heated cream. Quite delectable, in fact.”

“I do not want you to touch me,” she forced herself to mutter.

He gave a low, throaty laugh. “Is that why you shiver beneath my fingers? Why your blood races?”

A sudden flush spread beneath her cheeks as she took an abrupt step backward.

“Why you arrogant ... worm,” she gritted in embarrassment.

He folded his arms over his chest. “There is nothing arrogant in my realization that you desire me.”

She visibly tensed as she regarded him in frustration. It was obvious she was unaccustomed to encountering gentlemen who did not crawl upon their knees to please her.

He allowed his smile to widen.

“I was not the one to pursue you to your home, nor to ... to fondle you,” she spat out.

“I was merely seeking to discover if your skin is as soft as it appears.”

The emerald eyes narrowed in a dangerous manner. “Mere curiosity?”

Thankful that she could not possibly know that his fingers still tingled with pleasure, nor that the demons still raged within him, Gideon offered a faint shrug.

“Yes.”

“And you have no intention of attempting to seduce me?”

“No intention whatsoever,” he assured her softly.

Momentarily caught off guard she frowned at him in confusion. Gideon briefly wondered if anyone had ever sought her out without a selfish motive. She seemed far too cynical for one so young.

“Fah,” she at last breathed. “You are no different than any other man.”

“Oh, I think you will discover I am quite, quite different than most gentlemen,” he retorted, assuring himself that he did not feel a pang of remorse that he was using this maiden as everyone else seemingly did. Such weakness belonged to humans, not vampires. “I am sorry if you are disappointed. Perhaps during another time and in another place I might have satisfied your passions.”

She gasped with sudden fury. “I ...”

He moved so swiftly she was unable to react before he had swooped his head downward and gently pressed his lips to her own. Sparks flared as he briefly drank of her soft temptation, the scent of roses and warm blood clouding his mind before he was pulling back.

A shudder raced through him as he battled to regain control of his own fervor.

He had tested his restraint enough for now, he acknowledged with a pang of unease at the realization. It was time to return to his hunt.

“I have important matters that demand my attention,” he informed her with an elegant bow. “Do not concern yourself, however, I shall soon return.”

Pressing a hand to her lips she remained silent as he turned and crossed the room. It was not until he had at last reached the door that she regained command of herself.

“Despicable cad.”

For the first time since arriving in London, Simone considered ignoring the numerous invitations that lay upon her dressing table and remaining quietly at home.

Even after several hours she was still brewing with anger at Mr. Gideon Ravel.

Never, never had she ever encountered such an aggravating man. Not only thrusting his way into her home, despite her long lecture to Bartson, but then giving her some absurd story of needing to protect her. As if she would need the assistance of an arrogant stranger who was clearly mad.

It was all utterly ridiculous.

Almost as ridiculous as the knowledge that his touch had deeply affected her.

Botheration. She had nearly swooned when his fingers had stroked so lightly over her. And then that kiss ...

The heady sensations that had raced through her had stolen every rational thought and made her behave as foolishly as the most thick-skulled twit. Not even his humiliating declaration that he was not about to seduce her had managed to deaden the heated excitement that swirled through her body.

At least he had not seemed intent upon blackmail as she had first feared, she had tried to reassure herself. That thought had kept her awake long into the night. She could never afford to forget that her entire world could be destroyed in a single moment.

Spending the day pacing the floor of her bedchamber, Simone had at last gathered her courage and attired herself in a glittering yellow gown.

She would not cower in her home because of Mr. Gideon Ravel, or any other man, she had told herself sternly. He might have bested her today, but the battle was far from over. She would teach him that she was no woman to trifle with.

Keeping that thought firmly in mind she had called for her carriage and arrived at the theater where she was to join a small, select party. She did not think to meet Mr. Ravel there, but she hoped that he would at least hear she had been in attendance with her usual serene composure.

Her determination briefly faltered as she entered the theater and was swiftly joined by a tall, gaunt-faced gentleman attired in a formal coat and knee breeches. Simone stiffened with displeasure as he glided close beside her, his long silver hair pulled into a queue at his neck.

She had no reasonable excuse for disliking Mr. Soltern. In truth he had been quite charming on the few occasions that their paths had crossed. But while he was always polite there was something about the gray, lifeless eyes that sent a chill over her skin.

Unconsciously she pulled away from his tall frame, her nose twitching at the vague, unpleasant scent of cold steel that seemed to shroud about him.

Perhaps noting her instinctive withdrawal, the gentleman bared his large teeth in what was no doubt intended as a smile.

“Ah, my fair angel. How fortunate I am to have crossed your path.”

“Thank you, Mr. Soltern,” she forced herself to say in pleasant tones.

“Tristan, my dear,” he chided softly, waving the ebony cane that he held in a thin, bony hand. “I presume you have also been summoned to join Lord Stonewall in his box?”

She swallowed the instinctive denial. She could not simply turn and leave the theater just because she discovered this man was to be a part of her party. Such an insult might very well make him an enemy. And she possessed an uncanny sense that he would be a very dangerous foe.

“Yes, a tedious task, I fear. You need not bother to escort me.”

“A task is never tedious in your charming company, Simone,” he said with an unwelcome air of intimacy. “Indeed, I would be content to walk at your side for an eternity.”

Simone shuddered in horror at the mere thought. “Very pretty, sir.”

A silence fell as they climbed the wide stairs, then with a sideways glance Tristan gently cleared his throat.

“I understand that you had a rather unexpected guest at your salon last evening.”

Simone stiffened before she could prevent the betraying motion. Damn the incessant tattlers. She did not like the thought of London gossiping about Mr. Ravel and their obvious confrontation.

“Did I?”

“A Mr. Ravel,” he prompted her.

She kept her expression smoothly unconcerned. She certainly had no intention of adding to any speculation.

“Yes, now that you mention it, he did attend.”

“He is an acquaintance of yours?”

“Of sorts,” she readily lied, reluctantly turning to meet that dead gaze. “Why do you ask?”

He paused before lifting a thin shoulder. “I am merely concerned for your welfare.”

Simone frowned at his words. This was the second occasion she had been warned that she was somehow in danger. A chill trickled down her spine.

“Concerned?”

“I have known Mr. Ravel for countless years and unfortunately I must confess that he is utterly untrustworthy.”

Her expression became cool at the rapier edge in his voice. It was obvious he possessed a deep dislike for Mr. Ravel. And that he hoped to sway her own opinion.

Regardless of the fact she had devoted most of the day to cursing Gideon she was not about to be blindly informed of whom she could or could not trust. Certainly not by a man who made her skin crawl.

“In what manner?” she retorted in tones that should have warned the most obtuse she was displeased.

“He rarely speaks the truth and always possesses a hidden motive when offering his friendship. Especially in regards to beautiful and wealthy women.”

“He is a fortune hunter?”

He heaved a sigh that hissed oddly through his teeth. “I am sad to say he is, indeed.”

Simone firmly turned to regard the landing crowded with elegant guests. If Mr. Ravel were a fortune hunter, he would be far from the first to have attempted to lure her.

She had been a target since arriving in London.

“I have no fear of being seduced out of my fortune, Mr. Soltern. I am no innocent chit who futilely clings to the notion of love.”

With her head turned she missed the lethal chill that momentarily tightened the gaunt features.

“Even a woman with remarkable wits can be blinded by her passions. You would do well to avoid the companionship of Mr. Ravel,” he persisted.

Being recalled of the passions that had been stirred to life only that afternoon did nothing to improve Simone’s temper. She did not want to believe she could ever be at the mercy of her desire. Not even for a gentleman who possessed the unearthly beauty of an angel and the seductive charm of a devil.

“It is very kind of you to concern yourself with my welfare, but I prefer to make my own judgments about others,” she said in tones that defied argument.

“But of course,” he agreed in oily tones that held only a hint of disapproval. “I merely sought to warn you of the dangers.”

“That is very kind, but hardly necessary. I am quite capable of caring for myself.” With a surge of relief Simone noted the elderly woman who was waving at her in an imperious manner. “If you will excuse me I must have a word with Lady Stewart.”

“Simone.” He reached out to grasp her arm, his lips thinning as she hastily eluded his touch. “I wish you to know that you can turn to me in time of need. You have only to send for me and I will come.”

She gave a distant nod, wishing only to be free of his disquieting presence.

“I will remember. Excuse me.”

Cold, naked fury raced through Tristan as he watched the chit turn to rush away.

To think he was being denied the glory that was due to him because of this stupid wench was nearly unbearable. She was a mortal. Mere fodder for the greater race of vampires. And yet, because of blasted Nefri he was forced to treat her as if she were more than a source of blood for his feeding. Galling enough in itself, but to also add insult was the knowledge she was no closer to handing over the Medallion than when he had first discovered her a month before.

And now, Gideon had arrived.

He gave a low growl that sent a mincing dandy tumbling down the stairs in sudden fright.

With a flowing movement he turned to make his way back down the stairs, ignoring the crowd that unthinkingly melted out of his path.

He would not be thwarted. Not by an insignificant mortal or a vampire who had grown weak and content behind the Veil.

It was unthinkable.

And he intended both of them to know just how grave a mistake they had made in crossing his will.

A smile that would have chilled the most hearty of souls touched his thin lips as he left the theater and turned into a nearby alley. Within moments a ragged man shambled forward. Tristan grimaced at the smell of unwashed body and gin. On the next occasion he Inscrolled a slave, he would ensure it was not such a pitiful specimen, he told himself.

“Come,” he ordered as he moved toward the carriage he had left down the street. “Did you follow him?”

Staggering behind, the slave gave a low grunt. “Yes.”

“You remember how to find his lodgings?”

“Yes.” The slave halted as if he would turn and show the way to Gideon’s lodging at that moment.

“Not now, you twit,” Tristan gritted without ever slowing his pace. “It is time for pleasure.”

“Ahhh. Hunting.” The one-time mortal gave an eerie chuckle.

Tristan sucked in a deep breath, coldly controlling the rage that swept through him. Tonight would not be a blind savage feasting that would satisfy his hunger. He had a purpose to his hunt.

Of course, that did not mean he could not enjoy the fruits of his labor.

“Can you smell it?” he murmured as his fangs lengthened in anticipation of the kill.

“Blood.”

“How I have missed that arousing scent. And the power.” He allowed himself to briefly savor the addictive force that churned through his body. “Ah yes, the power that will be all the greater once I have dealt with Lady Gilbert.” A bleak, soulless sneer curved his lips. “A tasty morsel that I shall enjoy to the fullest. But for now ... a harlot to quench my thirst.”

Chapter 3

“They say he is in line for a crown,” Mary Garrett breathed, her avid gaze hungrily regarding the powerful elegance of Mr. Ravel as he twirled a giddy Lady Woodson about the dance floor.

Simone gave a small sniff as she waved her satin fan until her golden curls bounced in the breeze. She had not seen the aggravating gentleman for the past two days, and the realization that she had spent each day in an agony of nervous tension awaiting his arrival, made her long to break something.

His arrogant neck preferably, she pettily acknowledged.

“Every foreign gentleman claims to be in line for a crown,” she retorted, her own gaze fastened onto the male body attired in black as it moved with uncanny grace.

Less than a week ago she thought that she knew all there was to know of men.

They were as a rule easily managed. Allow them to believe that you found them fascinating, charming and desirable and they would readily be clay in her hands. Especially when they had hopes of seducing her.

But Gideon ...

He refused to follow the pattern she had come to expect. He did not treat her as a delicate flower he longed to pluck. Nor did he readily dance to her tune. Instead he had thrust his way into her life, seared her with his touch and then waltzed away as if she were thoroughly irrelevant.

Her teeth suddenly gritted.

No one was allowed to dismiss her with such disregard, she told herself. Not again.

Unaware of her dark thoughts, Mary, a lovely widow with sable hair and curvaceous form, heaved a longing sigh.

“Perhaps, but they do not all possess the means of purchasing a home in Mayfair. And certainly none other is blessed with such indecent beauty. I would give my diamond necklace for an evening in his arms.”

Her teeth gritted even tighter.

The thought of Gideon in the grasp of the insatiable widow was not at all pleasing.

A ridiculous weakness she was not about to reveal.

No one would be allowed to know the manner Mr. Ravel preyed upon her mind.

No one.

“You could always make him the offer,” she said, her fan fluttering until it threatened to fly from her fingers. “I have heard the rumor that he is on the hunt of a fortune.”

“An absurd rumor, unfortunately,” Mary bemoaned. “He has been spreading enough money about town to reassure the most suspicious of matrons that he is deep in the pocket. I assure you if he were in the market I would have already purchased his services.” There was a faint pause as Mary turned to regard her with knowing brown eyes. “If you had not snatched him up first.”

Simone stiffened in shock. “Me?”

Although five years older than Simone, the widow had taken her under her wing when she had first arrived in London. She had not only helped Simone establish her image as the “Wicked Temptress,” but she had helped to choose the select circle of friends that would ensure her success.

She did, however, possess an uncanny habit of speaking her mind with amazing frankness.

“I have seen how your gaze follows him.”

Simone gave a loud sniff. “He is arrogant, opinionated and far too aware of his own charms.”

Mary gave a low laugh as her gaze returned to the ebony-haired gentleman.

“What does that have to do with anything? He is delectable.”

“He is passable, I suppose.”

“You do not fool me. You are no more immune than the rest of us poor females.”

Simone’s eyes darkened. Unlike Mary she did not allow herself to be prey to her desires. She did not tumble into lust with each new gentleman who appeared upon the horizon, nor did she readily entangle herself in sordid affairs.

Not even with a gentleman who made her skin tingle and her heart race.

She remained in complete control of herself at all times.

Complete control.

“I assure you that I am utterly immune,” she retorted in tight tones. “Although ...”

Mary regarded her with a hint of curiosity. “What?”

“I would not deny a desire to challenge that male arrogance. He is far too confident that he is irresistible.”

“Perhaps because he is irresistible,” Mary pointed out.

“Fah.”

The dark eyes sparkled in a taunting manner at Simone’s confident manner. “Pretend to yourself if you wish, Simone, but do not be surprised to discover yourself burned after toying with such dangerous flames.”

For no reason at all Simone felt a swirl of unease rush through her stomach.

She did not wish to be reminded of the danger that shimmered about Mr. Ravel like a cloak of warning. He had offered a challenge that she could not ignore. Not without appearing a coward. Something she could not bear.

“Save your sympathies for Mr. Ravel. He will be in need of them,” she said in tones far more daring than she felt.

Mary laughed in open disbelief. “We shall see.”

“We shall, indeed.” Simone snapped her fan shut as the music came to an end. It was time to teach Mr. Ravel she was not to be so easily discounted, she told herself, even as a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her she was being a fool. “Excuse me.”

Keeping her gaze covertly trained upon the elegant gentleman, Simone threaded her way through the guests that filled the ballroom. She determinedly ignored those who attempted to attract her attention as she angled toward the dance floor directly in the path of Mr. Ravel. He had managed to avoid her for the past hour. He would not be allowed to escape upon this occasion.

Hoping that no one could note the rapid beat of her heart or the manner her hands clutched the folds of her crimson silk gown she stepped directly in front of him.

With a graceful ease he managed to halt and offer a smooth bow before rising and regarding her with his midnight gaze.

“Ah, Lady Gilbert.”

Simone forgot to breathe.

Lost in the dark beauty of his eyes Simone felt the tangible power of him reach out to wrap about her. It feathered over her skin and tugged at something deep within her. Fierce, shimmering heat flared through her, making her knees weak and her mouth dry.

Botheration.

No man should be able to affect her so deeply.

Not by just being near.

It was indecent.

Desperately attempting to remind herself of the reason she sought him out in the first place, she plastered a stiff smile to her lips.

“Mr. Ravel.”

The sculpted lips curved as he slowly surveyed her slender form, lingering with obvious interest on the low cut of her neckline before returning to her flushed features.

“I trust you are enjoying your evening?”

Forcing her stiff muscles to relax, Simone opened her fan to slowly cool her heated cheeks.

She was the one in command, she reminded herself sternly.

It was time she began commanding.

“’Tis much like any other ball,” she retorted with a bored glance about the glittering room. “The same guests, the same gossip, the same predictable flirtations.”

A raven brow lifted in unspoken mockery. “You are bored?”

“More resigned,” she drawled. “I continue to hope that I might encounter one who is willing to toss aside the conventional expectations. Unfortunately there are so few in society willing to be more than mindless sheep following the flock.”

“You would prefer wolves to sheep?”

“They would most certainly add a bit of spice to the dull evening.”

The pale, beautiful features hardened at her taunting words. “You do not know of what you speak. Be glad you are surrounded by harmless sheep. They at least do not threaten to devour you.”

The rough velvet voice struck a chill in her heart before she was giving a determined shake of her head.

These vague innuendos were becoming wearisome.

She had enough true worries to plague her mind without jumping at shadows.

“I suppose you are referring to the mysterious danger you have elected yourself to protect me from?”

He stepped closer, not at all amused by her flippant tone.

“I speak of the foolishness of toying with matters beyond your comprehension.”

There was something so patronizing in his manner that Simone instinctively stiffened.

“Your arrogance continues to astonish me. I do not need to be warned as if I were a child.”

“But you are a child in many ways despite your attempts at sophistication.”

That was it.

Simone nearly broke her fan in half as she struggled to maintain her composure.

A child?

How dare he?

The most elusive, handsome and charming of London gentlemen battled for just a smile. She was toasted as an Incomparable.

Oh yes, he was certainly overdue for a well deserved lesson in how to treat a lady.

She lowered her lashes so that she could peer beneath them in a coy manner.

“Perhaps you should regard me a bit closer, Mr. Ravel. I can assure you that I am a fully mature woman.”

A dangerous stillness pooled about him as he deliberately glanced back down to the vast amount of skin revealed by the crimson gown.

“You wish to challenge me?” he at last purred in silky tones, reaching without warning to grasp her elbow and steer her toward a distant door. “Very well.”

“What?” Simone stumbled over her skirts as she found herself being easily forced through the crowd. “Where are you taking me?”

He glanced down at her with a sardonic smile. “You requested that I regard you a bit closer; I can hardly do so in the midst of a crowded ballroom.”

Simone’s eyes widened. Surely he did not think she was going to actually allow him to ... to view more than was already on display?

“I believe you misunderstood me, sir,” she said in breathless tones. She might be an expert in flirtatious banter, but that was as far as her skills extended.

The dark gaze seared into her wide eyes. “Are you frightened, my dear?”

“Of course not,” she hastily denied.

“You prefer to remain here and graze among the sheep?”

There was no missing the challenge in his voice and Simone bit her bottom lip. It was one thing to calmly plot to bring this gentleman to heel, it was quite another to be whisked out of the ballroom and perhaps find herself treading waters that were far more dangerous than she had expected.

Only the hint of smug superiority in the dark eyes forced her to thrust aside the shivers of warning that raced through her.

“No.”

Something indefinable smoldered to life in the midnight eyes at her simple word.

“Then come along.”

His grasp tightened and with extraordinary ease he managed to clear a path and lead her onto the darkened terrace. He did not halt as she had expected but continued toward the stairs that led to the shadowed garden. In silence they followed the narrow trail that at last ended in a circle of marble benches with a fountain in the center.

The sultry heat surrounded them, the music only faintly audible as they slowed to a halt beside the fountain. Hoping to hide her unease, Simone pulled away and trailed her fingers through the water in the marble basin.

It was the perfect opportunity to weave her spell of seduction, but she found it oddly difficult to conjure the flirtatious manner that came so easy when in the company of most gentlemen.

Of course when she was in the company of other men the air did not feel so thick she could barely breathe and her stomach did not quiver as if frantic butterflies were battling to be released, she acknowledged wryly.

Feeling the prickles of awareness as his gaze swept over the long curtain of golden curls she had left loose to tumble about her shoulders, she reluctantly lifted her head.

She could not stand here like a nitwitted schoolgirl forever.

“I believe I should tell you that I was warned to beware you by an old acquaintance of yours,” she at last murmured, unable to conjure anything remotely clever to say.

Bathed in silver moonlight the refined features appeared to harden at her words.

“Were you?”

“Yes, a Mr. Soltern.”

An odd ripple seemed to stir the air as the midnight eyes abruptly narrowed.

“I see. And what did he tell you?”

Simone absently rubbed the rash of bumps upon her arms, sensing the tension that flowed from Gideon. Not for the first time she wondered precisely what had occurred between this gentleman and Mr. Soltern to create such animosity.

“That you were less than honest, with hidden motives in seeking me out. He also implied you were a fortune hunter.”

His smile held a grim determination. “I am, indeed, a hunter, but not of fortune.”

She eyed him warily, for the moment forgetting the reason she had allowed herself to be lured to the garden.

“Then what do you hunt?”

His gaze briefly lifted to sweep through the darkness that surrounded them, almost as if he were searching for someone, or something.

“Those who would seek to destroy my home,” he at last retorted in fierce tones.

Simone frowned at the mysterious words. Did he speak of a traitor to his country? Or a personal enemy that sought to harm his family?

“This Mr. Soltern is one you hunt?”

“Yes.”

She considered him for a long moment, wishing he were not so terribly clever at hiding his emotions. The pale, perfect features gave nothing away.

“What does this have to do with me?”

The dark gaze abruptly returned to her face, the uneasy tension fading as he allowed that mocking smile that so annoyed her to return to his lips.

“The time is not yet right to reveal such information.”

Feeling as if she had neatly been put into her place, Simone eyed him with a jaundiced frown. She wondered if he was deliberately offensive to keep her at a distance or if it was simply his nature.

“Fah.” She snapped open her fan. “You wrap yourself in mystery in the hopes of beguiling me.”

The dark brows rose in a taunting fashion. “I need no mystery to beguile you, my love. There are far more pleasurable means of doing so, if I chose.”

Her teeth clenched. “Is that so?”

“Shall I demonstrate?”

He stepped closer and Simone momentarily battled the urge to flee to the safety of the ballroom. Those earlier shivers of dark excitement returned as she felt the heat of him caress her bare skin.

Hoping she appeared far more assured than she felt, she gave a lift of one shoulder.

“If you wish.”

“Actually I am confident it is your wish,” he audaciously retorted, lifting a slender finger to trail it down the low cut of her neckline. “I would not desire to disappoint you.”

Her eyes widened, as much as from the shocking heat that flared through her body at his touch as by the arrogance of his claim.

“Why, you ...”

She had not quite decided upon the proper insult for his outlandish behavior, but in the end it did not matter as he abruptly lowered his head and claimed her lips in a branding kiss.

All thoughts faded as she was struck by a bolt of lightning that singed her from her lips to the tips of her curled toes.

Shimmering heat cloaked about her and the faint scent of... what was it? Cinnamon? A musky spice that clouded her thoughts and filled her senses. She leaned heavily against his hard, chiseled form as her knees became weak. His mouth moved with a practiced skill and Simone gave a low moan of pleasure.

She shivered as a potent desire flooded her body. His hands molded her ever closer, making her vibrantly aware of every hard curve and plane of his muscular form. She opened her lips, allowing him ready access to the moist warmth of her mouth.

This was what she had sensed between them from the beginning, she acknowledged dizzily.

This fierce, blazing hunger that threatened to consume them both.

She knew she should be terrified. This was not what she had planned at all. He was the one who was supposed to be lost in a haze of need.

Still, it was not until those clever fingers slid upward to lightly cup the fullness of her aching breast that she came to her fogged senses.

A pleasure that she had never before dreamed existed exploded deep within her, making her sharply pull away in shock.

Dangerous waters, indeed.

Licking her tingling lips she regarded him with wide, startled eyes. His own expression was much more difficult to read, although there was no missing the thick tension that smoldered in the air.

“You tremble in my arms,” he at last murmured in smoky tones.

“I ...” Determined to deny his arrogant charge, the words stuck in her throat.

“Yes, my temptress?” he prodded.

The lie would not come and she sucked in an unsteady breath. Surely it was not cowardly to realize when it was best to retreat? There would be other nights to teach this gentleman a lesson he so richly deserved, she attempted to ease her damaged pride. And on the next occasion she would be prepared to battle those dizzying sensations that threatened to overwhelm her.

“We should return to the ballroom,” she managed to say in a husky voice.

His lips twitched as if he were fully aware of the heat that still tormented her.

“But I have not yet fully beguiled you.” His accent was more noticeably pronounced as he reached out to gently stroke his hand down the curve of her neck. The dark eyes smoldered with an unreadable fire as she shivered beneath his caress.

“We will be missed,” she breathed.

“I thought you shunned society’s rules?”

Those fingers brushed the frantic pulse at the base of her neck, the moonlight adding dangerous shadows to his lean countenance. He suddenly appeared different.

Harder.

Perilous.

Inflexible.

A predator that could destroy her with ease.

“Gideon?”

“Do you still prefer to be among the wolves?” he demanded, his dark velvet voice sending a shudder through her. “There is danger here in the dark.”

Simone readily believed him.

She could feel the danger.

It pulsed in the still air and cloaked about her slender body. She suddenly felt vulnerable in a manner she had never before experienced.

“This is madness,” she whispered more to herself than to the gentleman watching her with those glittering eyes.

“Then remain with the sheep where you are safe, my dear.”

The challenge was unmistakable, but for once Simone was not so swift to rise up and meet it.

She had her pride, but she was not a complete fool.

“I ...”

The sudden sound of approaching footsteps was almost a welcome intrusion and ignoring the taunting smile that curved his mouth, Simone readily turned to watch the uniformed servant who hurried in their direction.

“Pardon me for intruding, Mr. Ravel,” the young footman apologized with a low bow.

Gideon waved a pale hand. “What is it?”

“A message arrived for you. The servant claimed that it was urgent you speak with him.”

“Thank you.” Waiting for the footman to turn and make his way back toward the house, Gideon shifted so that he could stab her with a piercing gaze. “It seems our interlude must come to an untimely end. You can find your way back to the ballroom on your own, I trust?”

Simone lifted her brows in surprise, forgetting that just a moment before she was anxious to end her time alone with Gideon. She was not accustomed to being dismissed with such obvious ease.

“You are leaving?”

He gave a shrug. “Duty calls.”

“Duty? What duty?” she demanded, regarding him with suspicion. “Where are you going?”

He reached out to tap her nose as if she were a precocious child rather than the “Wicked Temptress” who had bewitched London with her seductive powers.

“Out among the wolves, my love,” he murmured, leaning down to tenderly brush her lips before he was disappearing into the shadows with a fluid motion.

Feeling baffled and more than a bit dazed by her latest encounter with Mr. Ravel, Simone planted her hands upon her hips and glared into the darkness.

Nothing had gone as it was supposed to.

Gideon was no closer to being wrapped in her silken threads of power while she ... well, there was no denying that she had eagerly fallen into his arms like an overripe peach.

What had Mary said earlier? Something about being burned when playing with fire?

Her eyes narrowed with self-recrimination. She had failed on this occasion. Failed spectacularly.

Next time, she silently assured herself.

And there would be a next time.

Chapter 4

Gideon glided through the shadows with a frown marring his wide brow.

He was not at all happy to discover that it had been more than a little difficult to leave Simone behind in the garden.

It had, indeed, been a decided wrench.

For the love of great Nefri, she was a mortal, he reminded himself sternly.

A mere woman who was only important because she briefly held a part of the Medallion.

But when he had pulled her into his arms and touched his lips to hers, he had forgotten the reason he was determined to keep her close. He had forgotten that he intended to use her passions to weave a trap she could not escape. He had forgotten all but the sweet temptation that had flooded through him.

His frown deepened as he angled toward his waiting carriage.

He was well acquainted with passions of the flesh.

He had lost himself in the pleasures of mortal women on countless occasions before retreating behind the Veil.

But this was nothing at all like he remembered.

Oh, there was the same burning hunger that raced through his blood, and the same ache that hardened his body with need. But threaded through the desire was a strange, unexpected tenderness that made him long to sweep her off her feet and hide her far away from the danger that threatened.

Tenderness.

He gave a shake of his head.

There was no place for such weakness among vampires.

Only humans found pleasure in such frailty.

Ignoring the urge to turn about and ensure that Simone made it safely back to the ballroom, Gideon continued on to his carriage. Within moments the groomsman stepped forward to open the door so that he could climb within and discover the slender, ragged youth that was nearly hidden in a distant corner.

He thrust aside his bothersome thoughts to concentrate upon the lad he had hired to keep his ears open for rumors of a Mr. Soltern. Older than most of the other ragamuffins he had put into his service, the boy possessed a calm intelligence that had impressed Gideon from their first meeting.

“I presume this has something to do with Mr. Soltern?” he demanded as he slid into a seat across from his unexpected guest.

“No, sir,” the lad surprised him by admitting in a near whisper. “But you did ask to be informed of any ... unusual deaths in the city.”

Gideon felt a stir of premonition ripple through the closed confines of the carriage. His muscles tightened with sudden anticipation although no human eye could have detected his tension as he leaned negligently against the leather cushions.

“There has been a murder?”

“Aye, a harlot from the Rookery.”

Gideon gave a lift of his brow. “Hardly an unusual occurrence.”

“The girl was found floating in the river with her throat ripped out.”

With a smooth movement Gideon lifted the hatch set in the roof of the carriage.

“To St. Giles,” he commanded in cold tones.

“Yes, sir,” the coachman retorted with a crack of his whip.

With a lurch the carriage was in motion, traveling through the pleasant peace of Mayfair toward Great Russell Street where thieves and whores plied their trade.

Gideon returned his attention to the boy across from him. “Tell me what you know.”

“T’ain’t much.” He rubbed the tip of his pointed nose. “I was lingering outside Mrs. Finch’s establishment, seeing as how most of the fancy gents enjoy spending a few hours with her girls, hoping to catch a hint of this Mr. Soltern when I overheard two blokes talking of a whore they had pulled out of the river. It seems the Watch was right upset when they discovered her throat was missing.”

Gideon drummed impatient fingers upon his knee. Tristan had always been brutal, and with the powers of his bloodlust he could easily shift to an animal capable of such destruction. Certainly he would not put it past the renegade to enjoy such a kill.

“What do the authorities believe occurred?”

“The runners are saying it is a madman.”

“Certainly a madman,” Gideon agreed with a chilled smile.

The usually unshakable youth shifted nervously against the smooth leather of his seat.

“Were you wanting to see the body?”

He considered a long moment before giving a shake of his head. At the moment it was more important that he discover who had witnessed this murder. There had to be someone who had taken note of the whore. And who had been her last customer.

“There is no need. I wish to be taken to where she was last seen.”

“It is bound to be dangerous,” the boy warned. “Gentleman such as yerself will be seen as an easy mark in such a neighborhood.”

The dark eyes glittered with a lethal glow. “There will be none foolish enough to trouble me,” he retorted in silky tones.

Something in the harsh set of his features seemed to assure the boy that he was more than a match for even the most hardened criminal.

“Aye, sir.”

A heavy silence descended as they rumbled down the cobbled streets, leaving behind the tidy squares and gardens to enter the narrow, dark lanes that were crowded with gin shops, slaughterhouses and common lodging hovels. It was a maze of alleys, cul-de-sacs and closed courts that made it near impossible to travel without becoming hopelessly lost. And in the shadows lurked the desperate prostitutes, pickpockets and drunkards that clung to a meager existence.

Gideon’s nose twitched as the pervasive smell of raw sewage, rotting fish and sour sweat filled the air. It was the stench of poverty and despair that was in sharp contrast to the luxury they had just left behind.

It was also the stench of danger, he reminded himself.

Having given in to his savage desires, Tristan may not be able to walk the streets during the brightness of daylight, but during the night his powers would be formidable. Far too formidable.

With a covert motion Gideon reached beneath his coat to touch the cold steel of the dagger he had hidden in a secret pocket.

“That be the street she worked,” the urchin abruptly announced, pointing out the window toward a narrow alley that looked precisely the same as every other dingy and dirty alley in the district.

Gideon gave a rap on the carriage roof and awaited the coachman to slow to a halt. The door was pulled open by a footman, but on the point of climbing out Gideon paused to give the boy across from him a stern glance.

“You are to remain here.”

“But, sir ...”

“Have no fear, I shall return momentarily,” he retorted in firm tones.

Confident that he would be obeyed, he slipped out of the carriage and made his way toward the alley. Ignoring the sudden hush that settled through the neighborhood he readily stepped between the overhanging buildings, his form flowing with the skilled grace of a hunter and his vision as sharply clear during the night as during the day. Such eerily fluid movements should have warned all that he was not a foolish dandy out on a lark, but as he had expected he had only to take a few steps before there was a sudden scrap on the cobblestones behind him.

“Right then, turn about nice and slow,” a harsh voice ordered.

Gideon readily complied, his narrowed gaze taking in the thin countenance and mismatched clothing. Although a small, wiry man, there was no mistaking the hard edge to his features nor the gleam of a large knife he held in his hand.

In no mood to tangle with the experienced thief, Gideon softly spoke the words of power that would briefly compel the man to his will.

“I need information and you will provide it, is that understood?” he demanded in tones too low to carry.

There was a brief silence as the thief struggled to battle the spell that clouded his mind before he was giving a grudging nod of his head.

“Yes.”

Gideon stepped closer, his senses fully aware to every sound and scent that filled the alley. He would not be caught unaware by Tristan. Nor any of his slaves.

“There was a prostitute pulled from the river this evening. Did you know her?”

“Called herself Clorinda, she did, but more than likely it were a name she made up to make herself sound more an actress than a tart.”

Gideon waved a dismissive hand. He possessed no interest in the woman’s name, only the reason she had been so flagrantly disposed of.

“Did you see her leave yesterday evening?”

There was a reluctant nod. “Yes.”

“Did she leave with a gentleman?”

“She left with any number of gentlemen.”

Gideon reined in his impatience. “Tell me of the last gentleman who hired her services.”

Even though in Gideon’s power the thief gave a visible shudder. “A fancy bloke with a cape.”

“Did he have a carriage?”

“Yes, black with no crest on it. They took off toward the docks.”

It was too much to hope that Tristan would have been foolish enough to leave a clue to his current lair. He would have to know that Gideon would far prefer to face him when his powers were at their weakest.

“Did you hear him say anything?” he demanded with an edge of annoyance.

“He told her to take down her hair.”

Caught off guard Gideon felt those prickles of warning once again flare through him.

“Why?”

“Said he was wanting a woman with long blond hair. Seemed very particular about that.”

Gideon clenched his teeth as a wave of fury threatened to destroy his cool logic.

He suddenly understood the reason for the savage, highly visible attack.

Tristan was taunting him.

The renegade desired him to realize that Simone would suffer a similar fate if he failed.

His hands clenched as the image of her slender body battered and ravaged seared through his mind. Tristan would be merciless given the opportunity to punish the maiden for standing in his way.

Far more merciless than he had been to the golden-haired harlot.

For the first time in his eternal existence Gideon experienced a sharp flare of fear.

Simone screamed as the whip cut into the soft skin of her back. She wanted to be strong. To pretend that she was impervious to the punishment her sister so readily offered. But the leather thong continued to fall, tearing open her tender flesh and sending blood flooding down to the stone floor. She struggled against the ropes that bound her hands, unable to halt herself from pleading for mercy. From behind she heard her sister laughing....

Without warning Simone discovered she was no longer in the darkened wine cellar but riding in an elegant carriage. She was attired in a dark wool gown that scratched at her skin and effectively disguised her slender curves. They were traveling through the peaceful countryside but Simone felt a tingle of alarm flare through her. She knew that somewhere in the distance was a band of highwaymen that were awaiting their approach. Desperate thugs who would kill without warning. She tried to open her mouth and warn the coachman, but she could not speak....

Blackness surrounded her. A thick, smothering darkness that stole her breath and made it impossible to move. Suddenly a faint, silvery image of a man could be detected in the distance. He seemed somehow familiar as he lifted a hand to beckon her closer. A cold chill struck her heart at the sight of the stranger, but she could not prevent herself from struggling to move toward him. A seductive voice whispered in her ear, promising delights beyond imagining if she would only surrender to him. If only she would offer the amulet that glowed in the darkness.

Her hand lifted toward the amulet, clutching the warm gold in tight fingers. But even as she considered lifting the necklace from her neck the image of the old gypsy woman was standing before her, the wrinkled countenance harsh with warning.

“No, child. You must protect the Medallion,” she said in tones that defied argument. “All depend upon you. You must be strong. Do not be deceived by those who would destroy you. Do not be deceived... .”

With a cry Simone abruptly sat up in bed, her fingers tender from where the amulet had cut into her skin.

A dream.

She shuddered with relief as she sank back upon her pillows.

It was not the first occasion she had been plagued by nightmares. Heaven above knew that her past was enough to give anyone lurid dreams.

But never before had she dreamed of the shadowy form that had seemed so real. She could still feel those odd prickles that had raced over her when those seductive words had been whispered in her ear, and the desire to do whatever was commanded of her. If not for the appearance of the old gypsy who knew ...

With a shake of her head at her foolishness Simone forced herself from her bed and rang for a bath.

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?”

The dark gaze abruptly rose. “Clearly you have a fortune to lavish upon yourself. Why would you choose to sew your gowns as if you were a pauper?”

Simone determinedly kept her features expressionless. She had managed to keep her lack of a modiste a secret since coming to London. She could not allow all her efforts to be ruined now.

“It is a task I enjoy.”

He dismissed her words with an elegant wave of his hand. “I do not doubt you enjoy the task, you are very talented, but that does not explain why you would willingly perform such a menial chore. Ladies such as yourself are very careful to maintain the image of utter leisure.”

Her jaw set at his unwelcome probing. Unlike most decent people she encountered he would not be bound by common manners. She was uncertain that he possessed any manners, common or otherwise.

“What I do with my own time is no one’s concern but my own, surely?”

“What is it you hide, Simone?” he demanded softly.

“Hide? I have nothing to hide.” She regarded him with a challenging gaze. “You are the one who wraps yourself in mystery.”

He regarded her for a long moment before his gaze deliberately narrowed.

“I will have the truth from you eventually.”

Simone refused to acknowledge the faint shiver of warning that feathered over her skin. Nothing short of death would ever make her confess her past. Nothing.

“Why are you here?” she said in clipped tones.

As if sensing she had firmly dug in her heels, Gideon favored her with a lift of his brows, but thankfully followed her lead.

“I wished to make amends.”

Simone couldn’t prevent her startled blink. He wished to apologize? She would have thought the sun would tumble from the sky first.

“For what precisely?” she demanded. “Intruding into my home without warning? Attempting to terrify me with vague threats of danger only you can protect me from? Or arrogantly presuming I desire you?”

Not surprisingly her taunts made not the slightest impression in his cool composure. She was uncertain what it would possibly take to actually ruffle this man.

Absently toying with the heavy gold ring he wore upon a slender finger, he strolled toward her.

“I do not consider my occasional visits as intrusions and I assure you that the danger that surrounds you is very real. And as for my arrogance”—he gave a lift of one broad shoulder—“there is nothing arrogant in the truth.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You are impossible.”

“Ah, but I have not yet finished. I do regret leaving you so abruptly at the ball and again last evening. It was most inconsiderate of me.”

Simone opened her mouth to readily agree he had been inconsiderate. She was unaccustomed to gentlemen who willingly abandoned her with such disregard. Then, the realization that she would be revealing the fact that she had been injured by his careless manner halted the impulsive words. Instead she forced a bland smile to her lips.

“Did you leave abruptly? How odd. To be honest, I hardly noticed.”

“You did not notice?” An unmistakable hint of amusement smoldered in the dark eyes.

“No.” She paused before curiosity overcame her pride. “Although I am intrigued of this duty you spoke of. I suppose it is dreadfully important?”

“A tedious business that would not interest you. Besides, at the moment, my only duty is devoting a few hours to a beautiful woman,” he retorted with smooth charm.

Her lips thinned. She wondered if she would ever learn anything of the man beneath his cool sophistication.

Or why it was so important that she should.

“That is no answer.”

He glanced toward the forgotten ball gown upon the table. “It is as good an answer as why you choose to make your own gowns.”

The thrust slid home with annoying ease.

He did not have to say he was not about to reveal any more of himself than she was prepared to do.

She gave an annoyed shake of her head. He was like fencing with a master.

“You have offered your apology and I accept. Is that all?”

He mildly regarded her frown. “Actually, I had hoped you would agree to join me for a short drive.”

Once again he managed to catch her off guard. “Now?”

“Unless you have other plans?”

She hesitated. The man annoyed her, mocked her, and if she were perfectly honest, rather frightened her. But the lure of spending more time in his company was undeniable.

Hadn’t she promised herself to bring him to heel?

She could hardly do so if she were cowardly avoiding his company.

Sucking in a calming breath she managed an offhand shrug. “No, I have no other plans.”

“Good.” He moved to hold out his arm. “Shall we go?”

Silently branding herself an idiot, Simone allowed herself to be led from the back room toward the foyer. It took a moment for a maid to fetch her gloves and parasol that she chose in favor of a bonnet. Then, ignoring the urge to rush upstairs and change into something a bit more dashing than the plain jade gown, she consented to take Gideon’s arm once again as he escorted her out of the house and into the startling white and gold carriage, pulled by perfectly matched gray horses.

Although it was still May the heat of the sun made it feel surprisingly warm. Arranging herself on the leather seat of the carriage, Simone quickly raised her parasol, relieved when Gideon set the grays into motion, stirring a pleasant breeze.

Her relief was short-lived, however, when she realized they were not headed in the direction of the park as she had expected, but instead toward the less populated outskirts of London.

With a frown she glanced about the thinning houses, wondering what she had managed to get herself into now.

With her face adverted she failed to note the manner his dark gaze scrutinized her tense features and the unmistakable shadows that marred the skin beneath her eyes.

“You look pale,” he abruptly broke the silence. “Did you not sleep well?”

Simone shifted upon the leather seat, suddenly aware of the scent of warm spices that clung to his warm body.

“I was rather restless.”

“Did Mr. Soltern’s visit bother you?”

She grimaced, unable to deny that the gentleman had set her nerves on edge. Even the mention of him was enough to make a ball of ice form in the pit of her stomach.

“I must admit I do not care for the gentleman. There is something very cold and rather inhuman about him.”

The dark eyes flashed with surprise at her words. Almost as if he were startled she had managed to see through the shallow charm Mr. Soltern possessed in such abundance.

“Yes,” he at last murmured. “He is quite ruthless.”

She tilted her head to one side, no longer concerning herself as to where they were headed. Whatever her fears in regard to this gentleman she did not believe he would ever attempt to harm her.

“He hates you. Why?” she demanded bluntly.

He abruptly turned to regard the wide street, although there was little traffic to disturb them.

“We are old enemies.”

“That much I had presumed,” she retorted dryly. The air between them last evening had nearly crackled with danger.

“He seeks power and I stand in his path.”

She frowned at the vague words, knowing it would be impossible to demand more information than he was willing to give.

“Do you believe that he would harm you?”

The pale features hardened until he appeared like a perilous warrior of old.

“Yes,” he acknowledged in clipped tones. “I have warned you that he is dangerous.”

“And yet you followed him last evening?”

Surprisingly he grimaced at her chiding. Simone wondered what occurred after they had left her house. Obviously something that had managed to leave a sour taste in Gideon’s mouth.

“We have unfinished business between us.”

She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Which means that you do not intend to tell me what this business is.”

He swiftly glanced over her tight countenance before turning his attention to the road.

“There is still too little trust between us, my dear. It seems that for now we will both harbor our secrets.”

She set back against the seat with a decided flounce. “Impossible man.”

Rather than taunting her for her obvious ill humor, Gideon tightened his hands on the reins, his profile carved in granite.

“Tristan is a danger to you as well, Simone.”

There was no mistaking the dark warning in his voice, and Simone shivered. After last evening she could no longer deny that Mr. Soltern was indeed determined to seek her out. Even going so far as to force his way into her home. She could still feel the repulsive gaze as it had lingered with open hunger upon her necklace.

Instinctively her hand rose to clutch the gold trinket that lay warmly against her skin.

“For my amulet?” she demanded.

Gideon stilled before giving a nod of his head. “Among other things.”

She shivered, feeling as if she were stumbling in the dark. She was no stranger to fear. Still, in the past she at least had known her enemies and why they hated her. Now she was simply being thrust into danger with no understanding of why or when it might strike.

Very frustrating for a woman who had sacrificed everything to live a life of peace.

“None of this makes sense,” she muttered.

He shrugged. “It is best that you avoid him altogether.”

She offered him a jaundiced frown. “That is rather difficult considering that London society is quite small. We are bound to be tripping over one another constantly. And like you, he possesses the belief he is welcome to thrust his way into my home whenever it pleases him.”

He gave a slow nod at her accusation. “So I have noted. I shall have to take means to prevent his unexpected calls.”

“You believe you can?” she demanded.

“With some help.”

The arrogance was back in his voice and her frown deepened. Really, he seemed to believe himself omnipotent.

“And your own unexpected calls?” she asked in overly sweet tones.

His features abruptly softened with mild amusement. “Those will continue, of course.”

“Of course.”

His brows rose in a taunting manner. “How else could you attempt to seduce me?”

Chapter 6

Although the unusual heat continued to blanket London, there was a pleasant breeze to be discovered in the lovely meadow that Gideon had discovered well outside of the city. There was also a welcome peace that could not be found among the bustle and noise of London streets.

Seated upon the blanket, Gideon lazily watched Simone gingerly taste of the numerous dishes he had requested be prepared for her approval. She appeared lovely, of course. Attired in a brilliant lavender gown with her hair appearing like spun gold as it tumbled down her back, she would have halted the heart of any man. But to Gideon’s close scrutiny there were signs of strain in the shadows that lay beneath her eyes and the unmistakable realization that she had lost weight.

A strain that was no less for himself, he acknowledged grimly.

It had been nearly a week since he had last caught sight of Tristan. The vampire had efficiently disappeared, even from society, and if not for the two golden-haired prostitutes that had been discovered in the Rookery he might have feared that the man had quit London altogether.

It was beyond infuriating to know that his prey silently stalked through the streets, and yet not even his large band of urchins had been able to so much as catch a glimpse of him. Night after night he haunted the poorer districts of London searching for even the faintest trail of the vampire, only to return to his home bested yet again.

What was Tristan plotting?

Had he hoped that Gideon would tire of protecting Simone and return to the Veil? Or was he concocting some evil plot to lure her into a trap?

Not knowing what was going through the mind of Tristan was far worse than any open battle could possibly be.

At least he had managed to ward Simone’s house to warn him if the traitor attempted to enter, he consoled himself. He had been forced to call upon the help of the Great Council, but with their added power he had managed to lay the invisible web about the home. It had come as rather a surprise when Valkier had actually arrived to help him. The ancient, always aloof vampire more often than not secluded himself from the other vampires, preferring to study alone; but Gideon could only presume the dire need had forced him to realize that he was as much at risk as the others. He had even taken interest in Simone, asking a number of questions as to how the amulet had been bound to the woman and whether she was still in contact with Nefri. Gideon had answered the questions as best he could, unsurprised when the man had simply disappeared when he realized that Gideon did not possess the information he desired. He was not alone in claiming arrogance among the vampires.

With a shake of his head he returned his attention to the woman at his side. Although he was angered by his inability to lay his hands upon Tristan, he could not deny he had enjoyed keeping a close guard on Simone. During the past week he had devoted at least some portion of each day with her, whether it was dining at her house or taking her to the museum or simply enjoying a drive.

Of course, such constant contact carried its own share of danger, he thought with a faint sigh.

It was certainly understandable that his newly discovered passions would be aroused by such a delectable female. She was far too tempting to ignore. But the vast amount of time they were spending together only made him more aware of her swift intelligence, her undoubted courage and the inner vulnerability that she struggled so hard to hide. She was slowly but firmly entrenching herself within his life, to the point that he wondered what would occur when it was time to return to the Veil.

He gave a sharp shake of his head, not at all willing to brood upon the disturbing thought. For now the safety of the Medallion was all that mattered.

“Well?” he prompted, hoping to divert the alarms that raced through the back of his mind.

Lifting her head, Simone smiled as she daintily wiped her fingers. Over the past week she had bounced between playing the alluring temptress and aggravated maiden at the knowledge he would not be tamed. He found her confusion a delight and readily teased her fiery temper. No doubt it would have been best had she turned out to be a milk-and-toast miss who eagerly allowed herself to be led by his stronger will. But, he could not deny a decided pleasure in her vibrant spirit.

“It is unusual,” she admitted as she set the now empty plate aside, “but tasty.”

“It is a dish from China.”

Her gaze widened in surprise. “Really? Have you traveled there?”

His lips twitched. He had indeed traveled through China, but it had been nearly four hundred years ago.

“Yes, but not for some time.”

Her eyes abruptly glowed with interest. “Where else have you been?”

He shrugged. “I have traveled most of the world.”

“How fortunate you are.” She smiled rather sadly. “I should like to travel someday.”

Gideon found himself startled by her revelation. Travel for humans was a grueling, usually tedious task. He could not imagine Simone without her comforts.

“I thought you were a creature of London.”

“Not at all.” She leaned back on her hands, making him fiercely aware of the thrust of her nicely curved bosom. “I lived very quietly in Devonshire for most of my life. I have never had the opportunity to see the world. And with Napoleon ravaging Europe it appears I shall have to wait.”

Taming the urge to lean forward and explore the vast amount of skin revealed by her low-cut neckline, Gideon regarded her with a raised brow.

“There are other places beyond Europe.”

“You mean India?”

“It is certainly an intriguing country,” Gideon agreed. “There is also the Orient, Russia and the West Indies.”

An unmistakable longing rippled over her countenance before she gave a grimace. “I am not certain I am so daring as to travel so far alone.”

Gideon experienced a stab of regret that he could not show this woman the world. How he would enjoy watching her eyes widen with wonder at the beauty of China and the wild, untamed lands of the Americas.

“A beautiful woman need never be alone unless she chooses to be,” he instead forced himself to point out. “Besides which, you do not strike me as a woman afraid to dare anything. You are very bold.”

She gave a low chuckle. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

His own lips curved at her teasing. “I suppose there are gentlemen who would consider you to be too much a challenge. I, however, am not one of them.”

A sudden glow of satisfaction warmed her eyes. “Ah, so you admit that you find me enticing.”

The passions within him flared with a shimmering heat at her provocative words. Enticing? He found her captivating, seductive and utterly irresistible. Had it not been for Tristan he would already have given in to his dark urgings and made her emphatically his own.

Still, he could not ignore the dangers of allowing himself to be distracted by lust. To lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh might satisfy him, but it would also divert him from the reason he had traveled to London.

Until he had the vampire returned to the Veil, or dead, he would have to hold his desire in check.

“Perhaps I do find you reasonably enticing, but then, London is filled with delectable ladies. I am in the fortunate position of being exquisitely selective.”

Predictably, a lovely flush stained her cheeks. “Is that so? Well, I ...”

Her words abruptly trailed away, and instantly on alert, Gideon flowed to his feet. At the same moment his hand reached beneath his jacket to grasp the dagger beneath.

“What is it?” he demanded as his sensitive gaze scanned the empty field for sign of any danger.

“Nothing.” Oddly she raised her hands to press them to her cheeks in embarrassment. “It is absurd.”

He turned to regard her with a frown. She was certainly not a woman to jump at shadows.

“Tell me.”

“I ... you will think I am mad.”

His frown deepened with concern. “I would never think such a thing. What is bothering you?”

She gnawed her bottom lip, a sure sign she was uneasy, before giving an unconscious shake of her head.

“It is just that lately I have begun to notice ... things much more intensely.”

“Things?” he prodded.

She straightened, her hands clenching in her lap. “It is difficult to explain,” she muttered. “I can smell the wildflowers, but it is more than that. I can smell each flower as if it were being waved beneath my nose. And just now I sensed there was a fox in those bushes before it even scurried toward the trees.”

Gideon slowly removed his hand from the dagger, his gaze narrowed with shock. Was it possible that the Medallion was somehow affecting Simone? To his knowledge a mortal had never been in contact with the artifact. Could it be that the power had brought her a small portion of the talents given only to vampires?

It would certainly explain her heightened senses and the ability to detect the spirit of life.

“Have you noticed any other odd changes?”

If anything she appeared more embarrassed as she shifted uneasily beneath his piercing gaze.

“Nothing beyond the feeling that I am being constantly watched.” Her lips abruptly twisted. “Do not bother to tell me that I am losing my wits. I am well aware I must sound like a madwoman.”

He carefully considered his response. Without being able to reveal the truth, he must somehow convince her that she was not merely imagining the changes within her. Nor the hope that such changes might very well protect her from danger.

“Do not be so swift to dismiss your instincts, Simone. Any soldier will assure you that he has depended upon them more than once to avoid danger,” he said in low tones. “They might very well save you one day.”

“Save me from what?” she swiftly pounced.

His lips twitched with approval at her ready response. She possessed more courage and spirit than he had ever before encountered in a human.

“A savage fox,” he replied as he reached down to pull her to her feet. “It is time for us to return.”

She shot him a sour glance at his taunting but rather than pouting she readily helped to clear the blanket and basket so that Gideon could store them in the back of the carriage. Then allowing herself to be helped onto the leather seat she calmly waited for him to join her and set the horses into motion.

It was not until they were on the narrow path that led back to London that she deigned to break the silence.

“Tell me of China.”

“As I said, I was there long ago,” he replied, wishing he could share his delight of the exotic country. She would no doubt be dazzled by the beauty. “I fear that it has changed a great deal since I last visited.”

“It could not have been so terribly long ago,” she argued. “You cannot be more than thirty.”

He battled the urge to laugh. As an Immortal, age and time had no meaning to him.

“You would be surprised.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “More mystery?”

“But of course, it is part of my charm.”

“Charm?” With a sniff she turned to regard the passing scenery. “Is that what you choose to call it?”

He chuckled softly. “Sheathe your claws, my beauty. No gentleman is willing to admit his advanced years.”

“Your years are not advanced, sir. Besides which, it is not only your age you will not discuss. I have no knowledge of your past, or home or family. I have yet to even encounter your cousins.”

Gideon briefly considered the two vampires who had journeyed with him to London. They had agreed to meet only in dire emergency since they would all be fully occupied with guarding their particular piece of the Medallion. He wondered if they were having any better luck than he.

“They are rather occupied with their own troubles,” he said in dry tones. “Still, I am certain I could arrange a meeting if you wish.”

“Are they anything like you?” she demanded with a pointed glance.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “Lucien is an incurable rake who is no doubt fully indulging in all the pleasures London has to offer, while Sebastian is a scholar who has always preferred a book to people.”

“Do they possess your arrogance?”

He pretended to consider her question before allowing a smile to curve his lips.

“Now that you mention it, I believe that they do. It is rather a family trait.”

“Now that I believe,” she retorted in tart tones.

“Is all your family so stubborn and sharp tongued?” he demanded in return.

Without warning her features lost their vivid expression as her eyes dulled with remembered pain.

“I no longer have a family.”

Gideon frowned at the simple words. It seemed impossible. As a vampire, all those behind the Veil were his family, some closer than others, but all willing to stand together. He could not begin to imagine being completely abandoned.

“I am sorry,” he said with quiet sincerity. “It is no wonder you seem so lonely.”

She gave a shrug, as if discomforted at discussing her loss. “I miss my mother and father, but the others were not worth mourning. And I am hardly alone.”

“It is quite possible to be alone even when surrounded by others. You are very effective in keeping people at a firm distance.”

He felt her stiffen at his perceptive accusation. “That is absurd.”

“I do not think so, my dear. You harbor too many secrets to allow anyone close, so you play the perfect hostess while keeping anyone from thrusting their way into your life.”

That stubborn expression he was beginning to recognize all too well settled on her countenance.

“Except for you.”

“Because I refuse to be pushed away.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So I had noticed.”

With a smile he raised his hand to lightly tap the end of her nose. “And perhaps someday if you are very fortunate I will even allow you to seduce me.”

Her eyes blazed, but thankfully she merely clenched her hands in her lap. Gideon’s smile widened, inwardly quite thankful that she hadn’t actually toppled him from the carriage.

It was only with a great deal of reluctance that Simone forced herself to enter the grand, but older town house located close to St. James.

It was a beautiful home that had been refurbished by Robert Adam in a Palladian style, but while Simone fully appreciated the split marble staircase with its intricate wrought-iron banister and even the paneled ceiling that graced the upper gallery, she was not at all enamored of the shrill aria that was piercing the air with painful determination.

As a rule she avoided such musicale evenings like the plague. Why would anyone with a particle of sense desire to put themself through such torture?

But the note she had received from Mary had been quite urgent, and putting aside her dislike for mangled arias and disapproving dragons she had attired herself in a rather modest gown in dark emerald and made her way to the house of Lady Falstone.

“At last.” Hurrying from a shadowed corner Mary attached herself to Simone before she could reach the open doors to the salon. “I thought you would never arrive.”

Simone grimaced as another shriek echoed through the corridor.

“I very nearly did not. There are few things I detest more than listening to the screeching of endless debutantes without a hairsbreath of talent between the lot of them.”

Mary waved a dismissive hand toward the salon. “I did not request you meet me here for the dubious entertainments. I have something I wish you to see.”

Simone blinked in surprise. “Here?”

“Well, not precisely here. It is upstairs.”

“Mary, you are making no sense.”

The widow tugged her away from the guests still entering the salon. “Lady Falstone was a distant relative of my dearly departed husband and once a month I am duty bound to attend her for tea. Yesterday I arrived and she insisted that I join her in her bedchamber since she was suffering from her gout.”

Simone frowned. “You wish me to see her bedchamber?”

“Actually I wish you to see a private gallery that is at the back of the house.” The dark eyes twinkled with a mischievous light. “I slipped into it on my way to Lady Falstone’s rooms to take a glance at the Van Dyck that has been promised to me.”

Simone was not at all shocked by Mary’s behavior. She made no pretense of her love for the finer things in life.

“Ah, keeping an eye on your inheritance.”

Mary glanced toward the salon with a grimace. “I have never been allowed to so much as peek at the portrait, and to be honest I wished to assure myself that the hours I spend pandering to the nasty old bird is worth the sacrifice.”

“Quite understandable,” Simone murmured, in no position to judge the woman. “Did you find it?”

“Yes, and something else I think you will find interesting. Come along.”

With a frown Simone followed the eager woman down the corridor and up another flight of stairs. She could not image anything of interest that Lady Falstone might possess, but the quicker she allowed herself to view the mysterious object the sooner she could return to her home.

She did not allow herself to consider her desire to hurry back to the empty town house. Certainly it could have nothing to do with the notion that Gideon might make one of his surprise visits.

Nothing at all, she told herself sternly.

Only a woman who had become utterly noddy would desire to spend more time with a gentleman who tied her into such knots she could no longer think straight. Or to wish for the kisses he stole without warning.

Intent on her ridiculous thoughts, she nearly ran into Mary as she came to a halt in a small alcove.

“Wait,” she whispered, glancing up and down the hall. “I believe it is clear, but we must hurry.”

Darting across the hall Mary motioned Simone to join her. Feeling more than a little absurd, Simone crossed at a more dignified pace, her expression wry.

“I feel like a thief. Why are we sneaking about?”

“If Lady Falstone realized I was in her private gallery she would have my head upon a platter.” Mary wrinkled her nose in displeasure. “The paintings were given to her by her fiancé, who disappeared only days before they were to wed. She kept the collection as some rather pathetic shrine to his memory and not even Lord Falstone ever entered without her approval.”

Simone found it impossible to believe the surly old woman had ever cared enough for anyone to create a shrine to his memory. Especially a gentleman who had jilted her at the altar. It would be far more in character to have burned them in the nearest fire. Still, it appeared that she had once upon a time possessed a heart.

“Will the door not be locked?”

Mary gave a short laugh. “Lady Falstone is too filled with her own self-worth to presume anyone would possess the audacity to defy her orders. Would you grab a candle?”

Simone dutifully collected the candelabra on a nearby table and followed her friend into the room. She was startled to discover that it was far larger than she had expected. Nearly a hundred feet long with a modillion cornice in a coved ceiling, the walls were covered by pictures, some enormous and hung in heavy gold frames, while others were small and grouped together. There were no furnishings beyond an ornate chimneypiece and a lone chair set next to a window.

She could have spent hours admiring the masterpieces that had been hidden away, but Mary was already headed toward the far end of the room. She swiftly caught up just as Mary halted next to a small portrait that had been hung by itself in a corner.

“There.”

Simone raised her brows in bewilderment. “It is a portrait.”

“Look closer,” Mary commanded.

Biting back an impatient sigh, Simone lifted the candelabra and studied the dark picture. It took only a moment as the soft light revealed the finely hued countenance of the gentleman for her heart to skid to a halt.

“Good heavens,” she whispered. “It is Mr. Ravel.”

“That is what I thought, until I noted the small plaque,” Mary retorted.

Lowering her gaze Simone read the words engraved into the plaque. “Lord Ravel. Penwhick Castle. 1520 A.D.

“I assure you that it gave me quite a start when I first noticed it.”

Simone’s disbelieving gaze returned to the portrait, noting the heavy velvet and lace that the gentleman wore. Certainly there was no gentleman today who would choose such garments.

“It is impossible.”

“It does look remarkably like him, even that gold ring he wears.”

Simone gave a shake of her head, her breath oddly elusive as she searched for some hint that this was not Gideon.

“It looks precisely like him,” she muttered.

“I suppose it must be a relative of Mr. Ravel’s,” Mary continued to chatter, unaware of the tension gripping Simone.

“Yes,” she agreed, although deep within her she could not make herself accept that it was mere coincidence. She had always looked much like her sister, both of them with the same golden hair and slender frames. They both even had a similar birthmark upon their hip. But this ... this was not mere resemblance. Every feature, from the glossy dark hair to the arrogant tilt of his chin was precisely the same.

“He looks quite dashing with that ruff and lace. Do you suppose he was as sinfully charming as the current Mr. Ravel?”

Simone shivered. “No doubt.”

“Penwhick Castle. I have never heard of such an estate, have you?”

“No.”

“Well, perhaps it has changed titles.”

Simone was incapable of coherent thought. She had to be alone, to consider this in a rational manner. It could not be true. This could not be Gideon. At least not him in 1520.

And yet, she could not shake the disturbing tremors that raced through her body.

“I must go.”

Mary turned to glance at her in surprise at her sharp tones. “You are pale. Do you not feel well?”

“I am a trifle dizzy,” she replied in all honesty.

“Shall I call for a servant?”

“No.” She pressed her hands to her tightly clenched stomach. “I will return home. Thank you for revealing the portrait. It is quite ... astonishing.”

Mary frowned with concern. “When you get home have a nice, large shot of brandy. It will soon have you set to right.”

Simone smiled but she feared that it would take several bottles of brandy to set her to right. She was uncertain that all of France possessed enough brandy for such a feat.

“Yes, a most tempting notion,” she murmured, turning on her heel to hurry from the room.

She had to ...

What?

Try to pretend that she had not seen the portrait? It was certainly a tempting thought.

She had more than enough to worry about lately.

But she knew that would be impossible. She had seen that portrait and nothing could alter that fact.

For her own peace of mind she had to discover the truth.

Whatever that truth might be.

Chapter 7

From the shadows of the upper gallery Gideon watched as the slender golden-haired woman slipped through the dark foyer and paused to listen for sound that her entrance had been noticed.

He had felt her presence, of course, long before she had even reached the steps of his house. With each passing day he realized that he was more and more aware of the bonds that were being woven between the two of them. Even when she was not near he could sense her in a distant corner of his mind. Almost as if she had been branded upon his soul.

His slender fingers absently toyed with the folds of his cravat.

What had brought her to his home at such a late hour?

Certainly not merely to seek his company, he wryly conceded as she hesitantly edged toward the fine mahogany staircase. She appeared far more like a thief intent on filching his silver than a woman bent upon seduction.

A pity, he acknowledged as his heightened senses caught a whiff of her sweet perfume. His passions ran hotter in the velvet darkness. They swirled through him, searing away the cool logic and leaving him raw with need.

She was here in his grasp. He had only to sweep her in his arms to have her in his chamber. Once there he did not doubt he could soon have her lingering distrust forgotten.

Then he would sate himself in her soft temptation. She would open to him with eager pleasure. And they would join in passions as ancient as time.

Shockingly Gideon realized that his fangs had lengthened even as his body stirred. He wished to believe it was nothing more than the potent bloodlust that lay within every vampire, but he could not make the explanation ring true. He did not desire to feast upon Simone’s blood and watch her die in his arms. The mere thought was abhorrent to him. But if he were to merely taste of her blood and to blend it with his own, they would be eternally linked together. Two souls intertwined ...

He gave a sharp shake of his head.

It was not entirely unheard of for a vampire to link with a human. It was rare, however. Not only because a human’s life span passed within the blink of an eye, but the sheer intimacy of the links had the possibility of overwhelming a mere mortal.

Possible or not, he had no intention of sharing the Immortal Kiss with Simone.

His heart and his soul were his own.

He intended to keep it that way.

Deliberately battling the need that threatened to rage out of control, Gideon forced himself to consider the intruder with cool reason.

Something must have prompted this midnight visit. Something more than mere curiosity. She was far too aware of the heavy price she would pay if it were known she were visiting a gentleman’s house at this hour to take such a risk without a pressing reason.

In patient silence he waited in the shadows as she slowly climbed the stairs. A faint frown marred her brow, as if she could sense him, but common sense was assuring her that she must be mistaken. He smiled wryly as he realized that she must find the tugs of awareness even more disturbing than he. He suspected that the Medallion had heightened her senses on more than one level.

He waited until she was fully upon the landing before he slid from the shadows as silent as a ghost.

Not surprisingly she nearly tumbled back down the staircase before she caught the railing and glared at him with open indignation.

“Gideon, you nearly frightened me to death,” she accused in sharp tones.

His lips twitched with amusement at her blustering. Even in the darkness he could detect the warm color that stained her cheeks.

“Forgive me, my dear.”

She nervously adjusted the folds of her black gown. “Really, it is too bad of you to sneak up on people in such a fashion.”

He arched his brows at her audacity. “I hardly believe you are in the position at the moment to give me lessons in manners, do you, Simone?”

“Well.” She licked her lips, obviously searching her mind for some means of explaining her bold behavior. “There is no need to skulk about in the shadows.”

“I thought my home was being invaded by a thief. Would you have me offer myself to a desperate thug?”

Again she twitched her skirts, covertly glancing toward the stairs before reluctantly accepting that she could not possibly flee before she would be caught.

With a smothered sigh she turned to meet his glittering gaze.

“I thought that you were attending the Claredon ball.”

He shrugged, shifting so that he was towering over her slender form. “Without you in attendance it was swiftly too tedious to endure. I considered calling upon you, but I decided it was far too advanced in the evening.”

She rubbed her hands over her arms, as if able to sense the prickles of tension that filled the air.

“You are correct, it is very late. I should be returning home.”

“Oh no, my love.” Moving far too swiftly to allow her to evade him, Gideon grasped her shoulders in a firm grip. “You are going nowhere until I discover why you are sneaking through my home like a thief.”

There was a brief, futile struggle until she stilled and regarded him with narrowed eyes.

“I do not have to explain anything to you.”

He heaved a sigh. He did not recall mortal women being so contrary. Or perhaps it was simply this particular one.

“Simone, I am quite as stubborn as you. We can remain here all evening for all I care, although I do not believe you will wish to be seen by the servants. Think of the gossip.”

Her brows furrowed in frustration at his calm refusal to obey her commands.

“Release me.”

“No.”

She sucked in a breath between her clenched teeth. “You are the most aggravating of men.”

“And you are wasting time. Tell me why you are here.”

“I ...” Whatever lie she was about to utter died as she encountered the dangerous glitter in his dark eyes. He did not bother to hide the fact he was in no humor for her elusive games. “I wanted to discover more of you.”

“Why?”

“Because you refused to tell me of yourself.” Her hands tightened on her skirt. “And I hoped I might learn why both you and Mr. Soltern have taken such an interest in my amulet.”

He ignored the feel of satin skin beneath his hands. This was no time to be distracted by the womanly heat and scent that filled the air.

“I do not believe you,” he retorted in stern tones.

She blinked with an attempt at innocence. “What?”

“You have been curious about me for weeks. It would take something a great deal more pressing to prompt you into taking such a risk.”

“I ...”

“The truth, Simone.”

There was a silent struggle before she allowed the wariness she had been attempting to hide to surface. Gideon stiffened as he realized that there was genuine fear shimmering deep in her eyes.

“Tonight at Lady Falstone’s I discovered a portrait of you.”

“A portrait?” Gideon gave a shake of his head. “Impossible. I have hardly been in London long enough to inspire the artists and I certainly have not commissioned a painting.”

“It was painted in 1520 at Penwhick Castle.”

Penwhick Castle.

Gideon carefully kept his expression bland. It had been nearly three hundred years since he had last viewed the estate he had owned in Scotland. Although remote, drafty and decidedly uncomfortable during the long winter, it had suited him when he wished his privacy. Few vampires, and even fewer mortals wished to endure the stark simplicity of his home.

One guest, however, had prolonged his visit for several weeks to complete a portrait that Gideon had been unaware of until the painter had left the castle. He had, of course, considered following the man and retrieving the picture. But, at the time he had been occupied with dabbling in royal politics and had not desired to draw unwanted attention to himself.

Now he cursed himself for his lack of foresight.

It was always the smallest details that managed to create the most trouble.

“A relative, no doubt,” he murmured in silky tones.

“That is what Mary assumed, but I do not accept the explanation.”

She wouldn’t, of course, he acknowledged wryly.

“No?”

She gave a slow shake of her head. “The man in the portrait is not similar to you, he is precisely like you. The same features, the same hair, even the same smile.”

“I must see this picture,” he retorted with a nonchalant shrug.

“It is you.”

“Absurd,” he scoffed. “I may be several years older than you, my sweet, but do I appear that old?”

Her lips thinned at his refusal to take her accusation seriously. Clearly she was not about to be easily convinced that she had been mistaken.

“Then tell me where you were born. Who are your parents?”

“Simone.” He deliberately gentled his tone, his expression one of concern. “I believe you should lie down and rest. Clearly you are not thinking straight.”

Far from being reassured her eyes shimmered with a dangerous light as she abruptly wrenched herself from his grasp. In the dim shadows the golden Medallion glowed with a fire that seemed to reflect her rising anger.

“You will not tell me, will you?” she accused in shrill tones.

Gideon heaved a sigh. The Great Council had taken care to warn him of the dangers he would face beyond the Veil. Not only from the renegade vampires, but from the dark passions that would once again flow through his blood. Unfortunately they had not bothered to warn him that the woman he was to guard was a prickly, stubborn, impossibly enticing wench.

His cool logic had never been so difficult to maintain.

“And what help would it be if I did?” he demanded in faintly weary tones. “You would only claim that I am lying.”

His direct words momentarily caught her off guard before she was regarding him with open suspicion.

“Who are you?”

“I am here to protect you,” he said with simple honesty. “I will never harm you.”

She shivered, her troubled expression striking Gideon with the force of a blow.

“How can I trust you?”

He gently smiled as he stepped close enough to hear the sound of her thundering pulse.

“You do trust me,” he said as he reached out to lightly touch the racing beat of her heart. “Here.”

Her eyes darkened with sudden longing as she swayed forward.

“Gideon.”

“Ah, my sweet Simone.” Unable to resist the temptation that swirled through him, Gideon leaned forward to gently kiss her. He felt her lips tremble at his light caress, opening in a silent invitation that was nearly his undoing. Of their own will his arms wrapped about her slender frame, bringing her against the taut lines of his own body. He yearned to taste deeply of her, to allow the desires of the night and silver moon to sweep them into oblivion. But even as she arched toward his harshly aroused body, Gideon forced himself to set her away. The dangers of losing himself within her were too great. He wanted her too much, his passions were too overwhelming. Tristan was out walking the night. He could not be distracted. “You should not be here,” he managed to say in rasping tones. “I will take you home.”

For a moment she regarded him with bewildered eyes, as if still lost in the magical pleasure, then a rush of embarrassed heat stained her cheeks.

Once again she began twitching the skirts of her gown. “I am perfectly capable of returning home on my own.”

His expression hardened to unrelenting granite. He intended to take her sternly to task for roaming the dark streets of London on her own at a more appropriate time. Not only were Tristan and his fellow vampires lose upon the streets, but there were any number of mortal ruffians that would readily harm a young woman on her own. For now, however, it was more important that he return her safely home.

“It is too dangerous for you to be alone in the night. I presume you did not bring a servant with you?”

Her chin tilted. “No.”

He gave an exasperated sigh as he firmly led her down the sweeping staircase.

“Foolishness. I should lock you in the nearest dungeon for your own good.”

She offered him a chilly glare. “That is not amusing.”

“It was not meant to be,” he assured her darkly, leading her across the foyer and out the door.

He paused just a moment to ensure that the urchins he had hired were indeed hidden in the nearby bushes before he was escorting her down the street toward her own home.

She maintained her proud silence, but Gideon made no effort to soften her temper. He had managed to battle back his demons of need for the moment; however, he was not at all willing to test his control on a second occasion this evening.

Not easy for an arrogant vampire to admit, even to himself.

Avoiding the various drunken bucks that stumbled down the walk toward their houses, he at last managed to bundle her to the back of her home so that she could slip through the servants’ entrance.

She paused just a moment, as if about to speak, but noting the unrelenting lines of his countenance, she contented herself to a loud sniff before entering the house and closing the door with a deliberate bang.

Gideon could not help but smile wryly at her display of temper. She would not be satisfied for long at his refusal to reveal the truth of himself, but for now he could do nothing but hope that she did not allow her curiosity to lead her into more trouble. He preferred her anger to fear. That he could not bear.

With a shake of his head at his ridiculous behavior, Gideon turned and headed down the street. He still had the stews to scour before morning arrived. The sooner he could trace Tristan and be done with this mess, the sooner he could ...

He clamped down on the alarming thoughts that raced through his mind. Thoughts of him and Simone entwined in bliss.

There were more than one means of trapping an unwary vampire.

Stroking the smooth ivory of his cane, Tristan watched in pleasure as his minions stalked the unwary maid. It was a pity that he had been forced to command them only to frighten the girl and not kill her. He enjoyed watching others drain the life of filthy humans nearly as much as he enjoyed the task himself.

Tonight, however, was not for pleasure.

After days of futilely attempting to discover some means of wrenching the Medallion from Lady Gilbert he had at last forced himself to acknowledge that it would take stealth rather than brute force to achieve his goal.

His near white fingers tightened on the cane in disgust.

Nefri would pay for his aggravation, he swore. To even think he must play these foolish games with beings that were as insignificant as roaches made his teeth clench.

He should already be ruling this world. Not sneaking about like a coward in the dark.

Watching the maid pass the high hedge Tristan gave a nod of his head. In a blinding flurry three roughly attired men bounded from the bushes and grasped ahold of the startled maid. There was a shrill scream that was abruptly cut off as one of the men placed a hand over her mouth.

Tristan waited until he was certain the woman was properly terrified before casually strolling forward and waving his cane in a threatening manner. As arranged, the servants released their hold upon the maid and promptly vanished into the shadows.

On her knees, the maid was shivering with fear. Ignoring his distaste, Tristan forced himself to reach down and pull her to her feet.

“Here, my dear, allow me to help you,” he murmured in soothing tones.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” she babbled, tears running down her round face.

“Are you harmed?”

“I don’t think so.” She gave a scared glance over her shoulder. “They gave me a good fright, though.”

“Shameless louts. Shall I follow them and have them handed to the Watch?”

“Oh no.” She reached out to grasp his arm in a tight grip. “Please, do not leave me alone.”

Shuddering in horror at the filthy hands that threatened to wrinkle the fine fabric of his coat, Tristan firmly pried her fingers from him.

“If you wish.”

She pressed a hand to her throat, so rattled she did not seem to find it odd that an obvious gentleman would bother to help a mere servant.

“Do you ... do you think it was the St. Giles Butcher?”

Tristan hid a smile at the garish title that had been given to him by the newspapers. He enjoyed the knowledge that he had managed to send terror through the city. A terror that was only a taste of what was to come.

“I fear it might very well have been.”

“Oh ... oh ...” the maid blubbered.

Tristan gave an impatient click of his tongue. He could not use her if she continued to moan in such a foolish manner.

“Calm down.”

“But I might have had my throat ripped out.”

Ignoring the powerful urge to do just that, Tristan managed to offer a cold smile. He wished to ensnare her with Inscrollment and be done, but he had never managed to learn the more subtle means of manipulating the human mind without destroying it completely. He did not wish anyone to know he had spoken with the maid. Not while she might be of use.

“You are quite safe now. Shall I escort you home?”

“Oh, would you?” she breathed in relief.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“You are so kind.”

Tristan shrugged. “Think nothing of it. Which way?”

Pointing down the street, the maid offered him a shy glance. “To Lady Gilbert’s.”

“You are employed by Lady Gilbert?” he demanded in mock innocence as they moved together down the darkened street.

“Yes, sir. A fine lady.”

Tristan’s lips twisted. Lady Gilbert would some day pay for the troubles she had given him. Pay in blood.

“A fine lady, indeed,” he smoothly retorted. “I suppose, however, that like most beautiful women she is temperamental and difficult to please?”

“No, sir.” The maid loyally defended her mistress. “She is always kind to the staff.”

He gripped his cane with impatience. “Highly commendable. But no one is a paragon. Surely she has some faults? A few hidden sins?”

Obviously culled by the beautiful Lady Gilbert, the maid gave a reluctant shrug.

“Well, she does insist that no one be allowed to enter the house without her approval. She is quite particular about that.”

“Is that all?” Tristan shot her a cold gaze. He would have the information he desired. “No odd fancies?”

“Odd fancies?”

His desire to do away with the idiotic wench was nearly overwhelming.

“Any secrets that she keeps from society,” he at last bluntly demanded.

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “None unless you count the fact she makes her own gowns.”

Hardly the shattering secret that Tristan had hoped to discover. He could hardly blackmail the woman just because she happened to make her own gowns.

Still, there was something about the unusual behavior that caught his attention.

“How peculiar. She does not approve of dressmakers?”

The maid ducked her head. “I really couldn’t say, sir.”

Certain that the maid was concealing something, Tristan lightly touched her arm.

“You can confide in me, my dear.”

There was a pause before the maid nervously cleared her throat.

“I ... I think it has something to do with the scars I seen on her back.”

Tristan raised his brows in surprise. “Scars? From a burn?”

“No. It looked more like she had been whipped. Badly whipped. Terrible scars they are.”

A stab of pleasure curled the edges of Tristan’s lips. So, the stubborn woman had been beaten. Not surprising. Her sharp tongue alone should have seen that she was put into her grave long ago.

Still, he knew that such behavior was ridiculously frowned upon by the pathetically weak humans. She obviously would not desire it to be known she had been treated as a common trollop.

“I see. Who do you suppose would have done such a thing to a lady? Her husband?”

The maid nervously twisted her hands together, as if already regretting the fact she had revealed her mistress’s secret.

“I couldn’t say, sir. I fear Lord Gilbert had already cocked up his toes when she came to London.”

He drummed his thin fingers on the cane. “And she never speaks of him?”

“No, sir.”

Tristan narrowed his gaze as he considered the importance of his discovery. Mere scars would not be enough to induce the stubborn wench to hand over the Medallion. But it did reveal there was more to her past than she desired to share with others. Who knew what other secrets she harbored?

Or at least he might discover a relative or friend he could use to force her into giving him what was his by right.

“Where did she live before coming to London?”

“Devonshire. Near the coast, I think.”

“Did she bring any of her old servants with her?”

The maid gave a firm shake of her head. “No, sir. We were all hired in London.”

It was precisely what he suspected, although he was swift to mark the annoyance of having to travel to Devonshire to the list of grievances that he intended to take out of Lady Gilbert’s fine, satin skin.

“Thank you, my dear, you have been quite helpful,” he murmured, coming to a halt several steps away from the large town house. It had come as a nasty surprise to discover that a web had been placed about the property that would swiftly alert Gideon the moment he came close. A reminder that he would have to deal with the interfering vampire sooner rather than later. “I do have one request before I leave you to return home.”

She glanced into his face with wide eyes. “What might that be, sir?”

“I would rather not have anyone realize that I rescued you this evening.”

No doubt presuming that he was about to demand a kiss or even more intimate repayment for his services she heaved a faint sigh.

“If you wish.”

His lips thinned at the mere thought of soiling himself with this pathetic wretch.

“I am certain you understand when I say that a particular gentleman might very well consider it worthy of a duel if he were to discover I were in the neighborhood.”

It took a long moment before she at last gave a sage nod of her head.

“Right. No need to worry. I shan’t say a word.”

Briefly debating whether it would be wiser to trust the girl to keep her word, or risk frightening Lady Gilbert into full flight if she discovered one of her servants murdered, he reluctantly gave a nod of his head.

He might have further need of the maid.

“Good evening, then.”

Turning, he made his way down the street, his thoughts already focused on the swiftest means of making his way to Devonshire.

Soon, he assured his raging bloodlust, he would have Lady Gilbert in his grasp.

And the Medallion would be his.

All his.

Chapter 8

The drive through the park had been intended to clear Simone’s tangled thoughts. After all, there were few things more pleasurable than having a bevy of anxious gentlemen fiercely vying to gain her attention. It certainly was the best means possible of healing any wounded pride she might have felt after having nearly tossed herself at Gideon’s feet only to be rejected.

But while there had been any number of suitors who had anxiously preened and strutted in her path, she had been unable to appreciate their attempts.

What troubled her was not that she had revealed the desire she had been determined to hide at all cost—Gideon was annoyingly aware of her weakness no matter how she might wish to deny the truth—or that he had thankfully brought an end to the kiss before true disaster could occur.

What troubled her was the fact that she was no closer to understanding the gentleman who had managed to bring chaos to her life.

Who was he?

More importantly ... what was he?

Leaving the carriage Simone slowly made her way up the steps to her town house.

She had never been a woman who believed in nonsense such as witches, goblins or ghosts. She did not believe in mystical signs or those who claimed to read the future, or even ill omens.

Life had been too hard to dwell upon superstitions and the fear of vague evil. There were enough troubles without adding mythical dangers.

Now, her shrewd common sense battled to deny the evidence that Gideon was ... was not entirely human.

A shiver raced through her as she allowed the horrible thought to race through her mind.

It was not possible.

It was utterly absurd.

There was no doubt a reasonable explanation to all the seeming mystery if only she could force herself to think coherently, she tried to tell herself over and over.

But she could not manage to rid herself of the awful sense that there was far more to Gideon than just another arrogant man of leisure.

Weary of wondering if she were perhaps on her way to Bedlam, Simone waited for the door to open before she entered the foyer and handed her parasol and gloves to the servant.

If a drive would not ease her troubled thoughts, then perhaps a relaxing afternoon in the privacy of her garden would help.

Stepping toward the mirror to smooth the long curls she had pulled back with a simple ribbon, she had barely managed to raise her hands when Daisy came charging into the foyer with a flushed countenance.

“My lady,” she breathed in obvious excitement.

Startled, and not a little alarmed, Simone turned to regard her servant with a worried gaze.

“Good heavens, Daisy, what is the matter?”

“You must come and see what has arrived,” the girl breathed with an impatient wave of her hand.

Regaining command of her jumping nerves, Simone chided herself for her hasty flare of fear. Botheration. She had been certain that the house had been invaded, or perhaps worse. Now it appeared there was nothing more alarming than the usual gifts that arrived daily from her admirers.

“Yes, yes.” She returned her attention to the mirror. “I will be along in a moment.”

Disappointed, the maid dipped a curtsy. “Very good, my lady.”

Straightening the neckline of her shimmering buttercup gown, Simone at last turned to make her way up the stairs toward the front parlor. It would be there that the housekeeper would have distributed the various flowers and tiny gifts that would have arrived that morning.

She possessed little interest in the offerings, but the servants enjoyed preening over her success. Stepping into the elegant room she swiftly noted Daisy standing beside the settee and the housekeeper standing by the heavy chimneypiece with her hands upon her hips.

“Now, what was it you wished me to see, Daisy?” she demanded before her mouth abruptly dropped open in shock. Piled upon the far sofa and numerous chairs were long lengths of shimmering cloth. Satin, silk, cambric, wool, muslin and velvet glowed in the late afternoon sunlight, along with ribbons and delicate lace in all colors. “Oh.”

Nearly hopping up and down in her excitement Daisy clapped her hands together.

“Mr. Ravel’s footman arrived earlier this morning to deliver these.”

Gideon?

Thoroughly bemused, Simone moved across the room with a shake of her head.

Of course, she should have guessed from the moment she caught sight of the expensive fabric, she acknowledged as she ran her hand over the swathe of satin in a rich ruby color. Who else was aware of her dressmaking skills? Or her love for such lovely material?

But why would he go to such a bother?

To attempt to distract her from the suspicions that simmered relentlessly within her?

To bribe her goodwill?

Or simply to please her?

Her fingers lightly stroked the black velvet. “They are beautiful,” she murmured. “Was there a note?”

“Yes, my lady.” The housekeeper moved forward to offer her the heavy vellum that had been folded in half.

Opening the note, Simone swiftly read the boldly scrawled words.

Trust me.

There was nothing else, not even a signature, but Simone smiled wryly.

Whatever the reason for Gideon’s gift, there was no denying that he had pleased her. For the first time in her entire life she had received a gift that was chosen not to impress her with its expense or as merely an offering that was expected by society. Instead, Gideon had taken the time to think of what she truly would desire. The realization made the most ridiculous warmth flood through her heart.

“Daisy, will you have everything taken to the workroom ?” she requested in husky tones.

“Yes, my lady.”

Swiftly the maid set about scooping up the fabric and lace while the housekeeper stepped forward.

“Shall I serve tea?”

Simone gave a shake of her head. Her stomach had been twisted in knots since she had seen that picture last evening. The mere thought of food made her grimace.

“Perhaps later, thank you. I believe I shall read in the garden for an hour or so.”

Predictably the housekeeper frowned. She held the firm notion that civilized people remained indoors whenever possible. Only savages preferred to be in the fresh air and surrounded by nature.

“Mind you stay out of the sun. It is uncommonly warm out today.”

“Yes, I will,” Simone promised as she left the room and made her way to the back stairs that would lead to the garden.

It was warm, as the housekeeper had warned, and Simone chose a marble bench set beneath a large chestnut tree. Arranging her skirts she drew in a deep breath and attempted to relax her coiled nerves.

How long had it been since she had a decent night’s sleep?

Or had not devoted hours to dwelling upon Gideon and his secrets?

Or not felt as if she were being peered at from behind every bush or hedge?

Too long, she decided wryly.

She had thought to put such constant concerns behind her after reaching London. Oh, to be certain, there was always the vague dread that her past might come back to haunt her. Or that she would stumble and reveal the truth of her background. But such worries had always been simple to thrust from her thoughts while she was surrounded by the grandeur of her home, and the endless stream of nobles who desired to count themselves as her acquaintance.

Others could be easily deceived with enough money and sheer boldness, she had discovered.

Now, however, she could not so easily dismiss her concerns.

Perhaps she should leave London, she reluctantly told herself. To put Gideon and Mr. Soltern and whatever danger she might be in behind her. It would not be easy. She had built a new life here. But ...

“How could a lady be so troubled on such a lovely day?”

The lilting, heavily accented voice came without warning, and abruptly turning her head Simone watched in utter shock as an old, shabbily dressed gypsy woman moved through the roses and promptly settled herself on the bench. She knew the seemingly ancient woman. It was the same gypsy who had appeared in Devonshire and offered her the amulet. There was no mistaking the deeply wrinkled parchment of her countenance, the long gray hair that hung in tangles about her shoulders or the bright rags that had been sewn together to make her skirt. Certainly there was no mistaking the deep black eyes that seemed to see to her very soul.

“I ...” Simone gave a blank, disbelieving shake of her head. “Where did you come from?”

The old woman gave a lift of her hands. “From here and there.”

“I cannot believe this.” Too startled to be frightened by the strange appearance, Simone did not even think of calling out for help. “Did you follow me here?”

The woman shook her head as she reached out a gnarled hand to lightly touch the charm about Simone’s neck.

“I was called.”

“Called?”

“You are troubled.” The gypsy shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be summoned by a bit of gold. “I am here to ease your fears.”

Much to her surprise Simone felt a delicate warmth flow through her at the soft voice, easing the knots and soothing the frayed nerves. She even found the burning questions of how this woman had managed to arrive in her garden being dulled to mere curiosity.

“Very well,” she found herself agreeing. “What is this amulet?”

The older woman took a moment to consider her words. “It is an ancient symbol of power.”

“Ancient?” Simone recalled Mr. Soltern’s implication that the necklace was of historical value. “You mean it is Roman?”

There was a crackle of laughter. “Rather older than that.”

Older than Roman?

Simone realized that she was not certain she wished to discover just how much older it might be. Instead she turned her thoughts to her more pressing troubles.

“Why do others want it?”

“The power,” she said simply, her heavy ivory bracelets rattling as she settled her hands into her lap. “You have felt it. It is changing you. Making you ... more.”

“More what?”

“Of who you are.”

Simone frowned. More riddles were not what she desired.

“You are as impossible as Mr. Ravel,” she muttered.

Unexpectedly the narrow features were abruptly wreathed in a fond smile.

“Dear Gideon. You are leading him a sad chase, although I must say that I am rather enjoying his frustration. He can be insufferably arrogant when he is not being challenged.”

Simone regarded the woman in confusion. “You know Gideon?”

“But of course. He is here to protect you.”

Simone briefly closed her eyes, wondering if she had fallen asleep and was caught in some bizarre dream. When she opened her eyes, however, the disturbing gypsy remained, regarding her with those dark eyes.

“To protect me?” she at last muttered. “From Mr. Soltern?”

“Among others.” The old woman suddenly frowned. “Some that I know of and others who remain in the shadows.”

Simone shivered, her fingers gripping the folds of her skirt. It was bad enough to realize Mr. Soltern wished to harm her; she did not want to think of shadowy forms who might also pose a danger.

“Please, just tell me what is going on.”

“In good time.” The woman reached out to gently pat her clenched hand. “You will have your answers, I promise. But in the meantime, you must protect the Medallion. Do not remove it for any reason.”

Simone heaved an impatient sigh. “I thought you came to ease my troubles?”

“I came with the assurance that your danger will pass if you remain strong. And that great happiness will be yours if you find the courage to face the pain that haunts you.”

The words were far too vague to hold any true reassurances and Simone gave a shake of her head.

“There are a lot of ‘ifs’ in your words.”

The gypsy merely laughed at her sour tone. “The future is always difficult to read. This I can tell you, Gideon must earn your trust or you will fail.”

Gideon.

It all seemed to come back to the disturbing, tantalizing, mysterious man.

A man who harbored dark secrets.

“I do not know if that is possible,” she murmured.

“All things are possible, my dear,” the gypsy assured her as she rose to her feet and lightly stroked her hair. “Believe.”

With a last smile the woman turned and moved swiftly back through the roses until she abruptly vanished behind the high hedge.

“Wait.” Simone rose to her feet, but she knew she was too late. The woman moved with far more speed than seemed possible. Far too fast to be caught now. Giving a click of her tongue, Simone glared at the hedge. Just when she thought nothing could be worse than fearing that Gideon was something other than human, and having frightening men like Mr. Soltern stalking her, now strange gypsies began appearing out of thin air. Believe, she had said. Believe what? That she was going utterly mad? “Heaven help me.”

“Simone?”

Too late noting the odd prickle of awareness that had been washing over her skin, Simone turned to discover Gideon standing directly behind her, his expression one of stark concern.

“Gideon.” She pressed a hand to her suddenly racing heart. “What is it?”

He glanced carefully around the garden, as if expecting to discover someone lurking about. She wondered if he had overheard any of her conversation with the gypsy.

“Has Mr. Soltern been here?”

She blinked in surprise at his abrupt question. “No, I have not encountered him in several days.”

Gideon did not relax his tense survey, his entire body coiled for attack.

“Are you certain?”

Unnerved at the sense of simmering danger that cloaked about the elegant gentleman, Simone took an instinctive step toward him.

“Gideon, whatever is the matter?”

For a moment he refused to answer, then with an obvious effort he forced himself to ease the tension that was gripping him.

“Nothing,” he murmured, allowing his gaze to at last rest upon her puzzled countenance. “You received my gift?”

Caught off guard by his sudden question, Simone could not prevent the small blush that flooded her cheeks.

“Yes.”

“And it pleases you?”

Her usual sophistication deserted her as she thought of the lovely bolts of material that she could hardly wait to begin transforming into beautiful gowns.