Authors: Alexandra Ivy

My Lord Eternity (2 page)

BOOK: My Lord Eternity

11.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads

His lips twisted wryly. “No, of course not.”

Having strained her nerves quite far enough for one morning, Jocelyn rose to her feet.

“I believe we have covered everything, Mr. Valin.”

Efficiently dismissed, the tawny-haired gentleman reluctantly pushed himself from his chair.

“I shall return in a few hours,” he was swift to warn.

Jocelyn, however, was prepared on this occasion.

“If you have need of anything, please speak with Meg. She is quite capable and is in full control of the household.”

The golden eyes narrowed as she easily maneuvered him firmly into the hands of her servant.

“More capable than you, Miss Kingly?” he demanded in those husky tones.

“Without a doubt.” With a crisp nod of her head she regained her seat and reached for her ledger book. “Good-bye, Mr. Valin.”

He remained standing beside the desk, but as she kept her gaze upon the pages of her accounts, he at last gave a low chuckle.

“Until later, my dear.”

Jocelyn maintained her charade of distraction until she at last heard the sound of the door closing behind his retreating form. Only then did she lean back in her seat and close her eyes in an odd weariness.

There would be dinner on the table tonight.

But what was the cost?

And was she prepared to pay it?

The kitchen was surprisingly clean and filled with the delicious aroma of fresh-baked bread and drying herbs.

Seated at the scrubbed table, Lucien leaned back with a deep sigh.

His surroundings could hardly compare with Gideon's vast town house or even the elegant hotel he had chosen upon his arrival in London. The house might be tidy with sturdy furnishings, but there was no ignoring the neighborhood was a breath from utter decay and that the air was rancid with the stench of rotting trash and sewer.

Still, he was not overly disappointed that his trail had led him to this narrow house in the shabby cul-de-sac. His rooms might be cramped and his delicate senses offended by the derelict surroundings, but it all became meaningless the moment he had stepped into the small study.

Even now he could feel the shock of utter bewitchment when he had beheld Miss Kingly.

She had quite simply stolen his breath.

Her face was a perfect oval with large eyes the impossible blue of tropical waters. Her hair, which had been ruthlessly wrenched into a knot at the base of her neck, possessed the rich luster of sable that contrasted sharply with the flawless cream of her skin. She possessed the timeless beauty of a Madonna, with lush curves that could make a man's thoughts stray in dangerous directions.

As a collector of beautiful objects, he had been stirred by her loveliness.

As a vampire with his passions unleashed for the first time in two centuries, other parts of his anatomy had been stirred.

Just for a moment he had briefly considered how swiftly he could woo her into his bed. How magnificent she would be stretched upon snowy white sheets, her hair a river of silk, he had thought with a decided yearning. In the candlelight her skin would glow with the pale luster of fine porcelain. Her lush curves would fit his hands to perfection. Ah, to possess such a woman would surely bring untold pleasure.

But even as his blood had tingled with anticipation, he had gazed into those well-guarded eyes and sensed the bleak loneliness deep within.

His calculated passion had died with a regretful sigh.

This woman was not in need of a lover.

She was in need of a savior.

The knowledge had been as unwelcome as the stench of the nearby slaughterhouse, and just as inescapable.

He was here to protect this maiden.

He could only hope his rusty sense of chivalry could be persuaded to overcome the lust that even now swirled through his blood.

Pushing back his plate, he cast a roguish smile toward the undoubted general of the household. The servant was a large woman with iron-gray hair and features cast in granite. He could only hope her heart was not similarly unyielding.

“Exquisite, my dear Meg,” he complimented her. “As savory as any I have ever tasted. A true masterpiece.”

The charm he had once presumed irresistible appeared woefully ineffective. As woefully ineffective upon the servant as it had been upon her mistress.

“'Tis shepherd's pie, hardly a masterpiece.”

“Ah, but in the hands of an artist even shepherd's pie can be a masterpiece. And you are, indeed, an artist.”

If anything, the woman regarded him with even sharper suspicion. “Miss Jocelyn warned me you possessed the silver tongue of the devil. I now understand why.”

Lucien was not remotely surprised.

He had known from the moment he had entered this house that the young maiden had felt uneasy in his presence.

Unfortunately the Medallion she wore about her neck made any attempt to use a Compulsion spell impossible. The ancient artifact was powerful enough to protect her from even the most devious skills a vampire possessed. He would have to win her trust by more difficult and time-consuming means.

Not one of his more notable talents.

“Did she?” he murmured. “A most intriguing and unique young woman.”

“And far too wise for the likes of you,” the woman retorted.

“Ah, Meg, you wound me.”

“Not yet I haven't, but I certainly will if you take it in mind to toy with Miss Jocelyn.”

Lucien gave a startled laugh, discovering he quite enjoyed bantering with this gruff old tartar. For all her crusty manners, it was evident that she was utterly devoted to Jocelyn.

“I beg your pardon?”

The servant planted her hands upon her ample hips. “Miss Kingly is a fine, decent maiden who has endured far more heartache and disappointment than any lady should. I would willingly thump my frying pan upon the head of anyone foolish enough to bring her pain again.”

Lucien was instantly intrigued. Heartache and disappointment?

Knowledge was always power, and he very much desired to know as much of Jocelyn as possible.

“How very distressful. She is far too young to have endured the pains of this world. Tell me, what was the source of this heartache?”

“It is her story to tell if she so chooses. Just remember that I shall be keeping a close eye upon you.”

He met the warning gaze squarely. He could, of course, force her to speak of Miss Kingly's past, and anything else he might desire, but he resisted temptation. Other than himself, this woman was the only person in London willing to stake all to protect the vulnerable maiden. He might very well need her with her wits clear.

“I have no intention of harming Miss Kingly,” he retorted. “I would never harm any young maiden. But neither will I ignore her. She has an obvious need for my company.”

“Need for your company? And what can you mean by that?”

“There is a deep sadness in her eyes.”

“Fah. That I already know. As does all of London. As I said, she has endured betrayal in her past.”

“And she does not allow the wounds to heal,” he said softly, keeping Meg's reluctant gaze trapped with his own. “A fatal mistake. Bitterness is like an infection that will destroy her soul if it is not cleansed.”

As obviously aware as Lucien of Jocelyn's brittle wounds, the woman grudgingly lowered her guard.

“Perhaps. How do you propose to cleanse this bitterness?”

“First by revealing that there is still joy to be found in this world.”

The pale eyes narrowed. “How much joy?”

His lips twitched at her blunt suspicion that he intended to seduce her young mistress.

A suspicion that was well founded.

“As much as she desires, and no more,” he reassured the older woman. “Do you not believe she has earned a share of happiness?”

“Yes. No one is more deserving.”

“So if I chose to prod Miss Kingly out of her icy shell of composure, then I need not fear being greeted by a frying pan?”

“That depends,” she warned, her gaze straying meaningfully toward the frying pan upon the counter.

“Upon what?”

“On whether this prodding endangers Miss Jocelyn's heart. She is not nearly as invulnerable as she would have others believe. Especially when it comes to a devil with a silver tongue.”

It was no doubt a genuine concern, but Lucien swiftly shrugged it aside.

He needed to be close to Jocelyn if he were to protect her.

Any unfortunate complications would have to be dealt with once the traitors were returned to the Veil.

“I wish only to see her laugh,” he at last murmured.

Meg heaved a faint sigh. “As do I.”

“Then we shall have to work together.”

“We shall see.” The woman was not about to give any more than absolutely necessary.

“You intend to keep that frying pan quite handy, do you not?”

“Oh, yes.”

With a laugh Lucien rose to his feet. “We are going to get along just fine, Meg.”

Chapter 2

Amadeus stalked the woman with a cool precision.

Remaining in the shadows of the derelict shops and lodging houses, he kept a steady pace as she searched for the prostitute known on the streets as Molly.

A prostitute whom he had murdered less than an hour earlier.

For nearly a fortnight he had studied this woman's every movement.

He knew precisely when she would leave her home each evening. When she would bring food to the various street children. When she would seek out the pathetic whores and urge them to abandon their tortured lives and travel to the small cottage she had purchased outside of town. He even knew that on this night she would seek out the young, hapless Molly as she did on every Wednesday evening. In vain she would plead with the prostitute to leave the brutal husband who forced her onto the streets to pay for his gin.

Which was precisely why he had disposed of the whore and laid his minions into hiding just around the corner.

Miss Kingly's very predictability would be her undoing.

Giving a sharp whistle, Amadeus watched for the three slovenly servants to stagger around the corner and surround the unaware maiden.

Just as he had commanded, the men quickly grasped Miss Kingly and covered her mouth to prevent her from crying out in alarm. Amadeus waited a moment to ensure that she was properly frightened by the sudden attack before he stepped forward to complete his well-plotted scheme. Only to halt in surprise.

With a detached appreciation he watched her fierce struggle to free herself from her determined attackers.

There were no tears, no fainting, no traces of panic.

Instead, she grittily kicked at the men, using her hands and even her elbows to attempt to win her freedom.

This woman was different.

A sharp, unexpected curiosity flared into existence deep within Amadeus's icy soul.

As a true scholar, he was always intrigued by the unexpected. Especially when it came to mortals. It was not the heat of their passions, nor their tedious loves and hatreds. It was their simple mortality that lured his interest. Perhaps once he had retrieved the Medallion that she now wore about her neck he would allow Miss Kingly to become a part of his ongoing research.

She would certainly enhance the rather disappointing selection of humans he was currently examining.

Of course, first he must ensure that the Medallion was given to his grasp.

With a calculated motion he continued his path toward the struggling maiden. As he neared the first of his henchmen, he lifted the ebony cane he carried and hit him across the shoulders. The man cringed, although he felt no pain through the spell of Inscrollment that Amadeus had cast upon him.

“Begone, you fiends,” he dramatically commanded, sharply smacking the other two servants. “The Watch is on its way, and you shall soon be lodged in Newgate.”

At the word “Newgate,” all three abruptly halted their assault and turned to stumble down the darkened street.

Perhaps a careful eye would have noted the manner they had so easily capitulated at his threat, or even the fumbling shuffle of their gait as they hurried away, but thankfully the maiden was far more concerned with pulling her shawl about her to conceal the large rip in the bodice of her gown.

“My dear, are you harmed?” he asked in soft tones that befitted the image of a modest, well-intentioned vicar. He had chosen the voice with the same care that he had altered his shape to a slender elderly gentleman who had lost most of his gray hair and possessed the features of a man dedicated to good works. Precisely the sort of gentleman a woman Miss Kingly would turn to in times of trouble.

And she was soon to have ample trouble.

“No.” She smoothed the dark hair that had been tumbled from the tidy knot. “I am unhurt.”

Amadeus made a mental note of her steady tone and cool composure. Oh, yes, she was worthy of experimentation, indeed.

Already he itched to bundle her back to his hidden lair and begin, but as she turned, the muted light from a nearby gin house shimmered against the golden amulet around her neck.

His breath caught.

Although only a portion of the original Medallion, he had no doubt that it contained a power more potent than any he had ever tasted before. And once made whole again, he and his fellow traitors would command the vampires. They would at last bend to his will.

Unfortunately he had already discovered that the Medallion was protected by a powerful spell. It had been bonded to the mortal's soul, making her impervious to Inscrollment and any other spell he might be able to conjure. Not even death could part the Medallion from the maiden.

The only hope of gaining control of the ancient artifact was to have it given to him of Miss Kingly's free will.

Which was precisely why he had been forced to conceive this ludicrous scheme. He had to win the trust of Miss Kingly and somehow convince her that she must offer him the amulet.

“Thank the good Lord,” he said as he offered her an encouraging smile. “I feared I might have been too late.”

Despite his humble manner, she seemed to instinctively sense danger in the air, and she took a step backward even as she attempted to appear suitably grateful for his display of courage.

“You were very brave.”

He pressed his hands to his chest in a modest fashion. “Very kind of you, but I merely did what any other gentleman in my position would do.”

She glanced toward the shuffling figures disappearing into a nearby alley. “Not every gentleman, I fear.”

“No, perhaps not,” he regretfully agreed. “The streets can be dangerous for a young maiden on her own. May I escort you home?”

She unexpectedly squared her shoulders. “I thank you, but that will not be necessary.”

Amadeus paused. While he found her valor a source of interest, it did not suit his plans to have her quite so independent. With an effort he determinedly curbed his flare of impatience. He was an Immortal. He had learned that patience was a virtue that could not be underestimated.

“Are you certain?” he coaxed. “I may have momentarily frightened those louts, but there is no telling when they might return. Besides which, they are not, unfortunately, the only scoundrels who would be willing to harm a maiden.”

She clutched her shawl about her. “I do not live far.”

“It does not take far to discover yourself in danger in such a neighborhood.”

“I am accustomed to traveling these streets,” she retorted, although Amadeus did not miss the manner in which her gaze strayed toward the now-empty darkness.

“Ah, but on this night it is unnecessary. I stand eager to offer my arm and my escort.”

He held out his arm, but once again she stepped back from his advancing form. Briefly he wondered if the Medallion somehow gave her the ability to sense the fact he was not mortal. Or perhaps even his evil intentions. It was a complication that did nothing to improve his thinning temper.

“You are very gracious, Mr. . . . ?”

“Vicar Fallow.” Amadeus bowed low, careful to ensure his expression remained impassive. Even if the woman did sense something unnatural about him, she would have no notion of what it meant. Or the danger that threatened her. “And you are?”

“Miss Kingly.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And you, sir. However, I have a task I must complete on this evening, so if you will excuse me?”

Realizing that she was about to slip from his grasp, Amadeus smoothly blocked her path.

“May I offer my services in performing this task?” Forced to halt, she barely managed to hide her flare of impatience. “I merely wish to speak with Molly.”

“Molly?”

“She can always be found on this street.”

Amadeus raised a hand to his heart and offered a soulful shake of his head. “Oh, my dear.”

She frowned at his sudden expression of sorrow. “What is it?”

“Does this Molly have red hair and a freckled countenance?”

“Have you seen her?”

“I very much fear I have.”

Forgetting her revulsion of him, Miss Kingly suddenly stepped forward. “What is it?”

He pretended to consider the matter for a moment before speaking. “I am uncertain how to tell you this, but she was discovered in a nearby alley just half an hour ago.”

Her hand reached up to clutch the Medallion upon the chain as if seeking strength.

“Discovered? What do you mean, discovered?”

Amadeus briefly recalled the sweet delight as he drained the life from the struggling, terrified whore. It had been a hurried affair, without his usual finesse, but the blood still raced through his body with a potent force.

“She has been murdered,” he announced simply.

Predictably the maiden's eyes widened in shocked horror. Humans could become so illogically attached to one another.

“Dear heavens,” she breathed.

“A shock, I know,” he sympathized.

“Are you certain it was Molly?”

He heaved a deep sigh. “Unfortunately it was I who found the body.”

There was a moment of silence as Miss Kingly struggled to come to terms with the disturbing news of her friend, then she abruptly straightened her shoulders with commendable fortitude.

“Where have they taken her?”

Once again she managed to catch Amadeus off guard with her display of courage. His brows rose at her firm words.

“No, you must not attempt to see her,” he retorted in solicitous tones.

“Of course I must.”

“My dear, it would not be at all prudent.”

Her expression hardened to one of determination. “I do not care for prudence. She may have been a prostitute, but I cared for her.”

It was the opportunity he had been awaiting. He would display just how kind and compassionate he could be.

“A most honorable sentiment, my dear, and I fully applaud your generous nature. I myself have pledged my life to helping these poor wretches who nightly struggle just to survive. However, my desire in preventing you from joining the poor child stems from the knowledge you would be deeply disturbed by her grievous attack. The murder was quite savage.”

She paled at his soft words, her hands trembling as they clutched the shawl. “Oh.”

“It is truly best that you return home.”

Clearly disturbed by the unexpected end to Molly, the formidable woman gave a reluctant nod of her head.

“Yes, perhaps you are right.”

Once again Amadeus held out his arm. “Shall we?”

“No, no, I thank you,” she stammered, still uneasy in his presence. “I prefer to be on my own.”

Incensed, Amadeus took a step forward, his fangs instinctively lengthening in anticipation of the kill. He would teach this vexing chit a lesson in daring to defy him. Then, with an effort, he regained his composure.

All things would come to him in their proper time.

Patience.

“As you wish.” He performed a stiff bow. “I do hope that you will not hesitate to seek me out if you ever have need of my services. Until then, good night, my dear.”

“Good night.” With an absent nod the maiden turned and soon disappeared around the corner.

On his own, Amadeus clenched his hands in frustration. The evening had not progressed nearly as well as he had hoped. Miss Kingly had not readily embraced him as her savior, nor had she eagerly turned to him for his assistance. Instead, she remained wary and far too distant.

Still, he would not allow himself to press matters. Unlike Tristan, who was always brutal and impulsive, or Drake, who was far too arrogant, he knew that it was his keen intelligence that would allow him to succeed.

He had planted one further seed this evening. In time it would lure Miss Kingly into his clutches. Of that he did not doubt.

Until then he would simply enjoy the undeniable pleasures of his various experiments.