Immortal Rogues - My Lord Eternity Part 19

Caught off guard, Lucien held out his hands in a pacifying motion. Great Nefri, she was as skittish as a newborn colt.

"What?"

"Do not call me that."

His breath caught at her broken tones. He felt as if he had just been slammed in the stomach.

She was so terribly wounded. And he was the cause.

It was not just the unbelievable tale of vampires. Or even the powerful Medallion she wore about her neck. It was the fact that she had allowed him into her heart.

After years of keeping herself aloof from others and avoiding the pain and disappointment she had experienced at the hands of Lord Patten, she had at long last permitted herself to reach out to another.

Now she felt utterly betrayed.

And he had no one to blame but himself, he acknowledged bitterly. Not even Nefri.

It had been his choice to pose as a dandy on the run from his angry cousin. His choice to live beneath Jocelyn's roof. And his choice to seek a closer relations.h.i.+p than necessary to simply protect her.

And all to see her smile.

His expression was pleading as he held out a slender hand. "Jocelyn."

"No." With a shake of her head she backed away, the pain visible upon her face. "I thought you were different. I thought I could believe in you, but you have done nothing but lie to me from the moment you entered my home."

His hand abruptly clenched as it fell to his side. "I came here to protect you."

She gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "And to have a bit of a lark with the poor, scandal-tainted spinster?"

"Stop it, Jocelyn." Indifferent to the flas.h.i.+ng danger in her eyes and the stiffness of her frame, Lucien stepped forward and firmly grasped her upper arms. She could insult him to her heart's content. He would readily accept whatever blows she might need to throw. But he would not allow her to belittle herself. "I will admit that I desired to bring a smile to your lips and to ease the bitterness within you. Hardly contemptible motives."

Her mouth Curled at his insistent words. "I do not need your pity, Mr. Valin."

"Good, because pity is the last thing you would ever receive from me," he gritted out, careful to keep his fingers from digging into her soft skin in exasperation. He had done enough damage to this innocent maiden. "I admire you more than any other woman I have ever met. Your kindness, your strength, your ability to take adversity and alter it to something so good. Quite frankly, Miss Kingly, you astonish me."

For a breathless, wondrous moment her expression softened at his words. She even began to sway slightly toward his waiting warmth before she abruptly became rigid beneath his hands. A sudden bleakness returned to the pale features.

"How can I trust anything you say?"

Lucien fiercely held on to the small beacon of hope he had just witnessed. Beneath the pain and confusion, she did still care for him. It had been etched upon her pale features. And now that he was near her, he could feel it beat through her very blood.

Over the past few weeks they had become irrevocably linked to each other. The s.h.i.+mmering bonds of love and affection had been established whether either of them desired to acknowledge them or not.

Perhaps he should have taken more care, he chastised himself. Not only for the tender feelings of poor Jocelyn but for his own peace of mind.

In time Jocelyn might very well put him out of her heart and find another to love. It was the way of humans to be able to love and mate more than once during their short life span. For a vampire, however, such a love came only once. And it endured for all eternity.

Such a thought should be terrifying. He had deliberately avoided such entanglements. To be bound to another was a responsibility he was incapable of accepting.

Oddly, however, he felt nothing but a warm flood of joy at the s.h.i.+mmering golden threads of love that firmly tied him to this woman.

"I know, Jocelyn, and you know," he said in tones that defied argument. "Deep within you.

You can sense what is in my very soul."

She gave a shake of her head, but there was a hint of uncertainty that flashed through her eyes. He was well aware that the Medallion had given her the power to perceive well beyond her human capabilities.

"That is not possible."

"The Medallion has made it possible," he murmured.

"How?"

He gave careful thought to his words. The last thing he desired was to give her yet another thing to worry over.

"It has altered you," he at last admitted slowly. "You feel things more. You are more sharply aware of your surroundings and able to sense the emotions of others. It is a rare gift for a human."

Thankfully her expression did not tighten with fear. Instead, her full, tempting lips twisted in a rueful fas.h.i.+on.

"If that is true, then why did it not warn me you were a vampire?"

His hand s.h.i.+fted to lightly cup her soft cheek. "But it did. You just chose to ignore what your heart whispered."

"Yes." She heaved a faint sigh. "So once again I was the fool."

Lucien gave an impatient click of his tongue. Clearly she was determined to hold on to her sense of betrayal. At least for the time. He did not entirely blame her, but he did not possess the luxury of indulging her wounded sensibilities. Not while Amadeus continued to lurk in the shadows.

"Jocelyn, I know that you are angry with me, but you must hear what I have to tell you," he said in stern tones.

With a shake of her head she was pulling from his grasp. "I cannot. Not tonight."

He frowned in concern. "You are in danger. The traitors will do whatever they must to gain command of the Medallion."

"Please, Lucien." She held up a hand that visibly trembled. "I can bear no more."

She spoke the truth. Even from a distance he could sense she was holding on by a fragile thread. If he pressed any further, she might shatter beneath the strain and panic. He could not allow her to lose her reason. Not when he had no notion what she might do.

"I am sorry," he said in low tones. "My last desire was to have you hurt by me." She pressed her hands to her bosom, her eyes s.h.i.+mmering with unshed tears. "We will talk in the morning."

"Yes." He gave a slow nod. "Good night, my dove."

"Good night."

Lucien watched in silence as she unsteadily made her way from the room. His hands clenched at his sides as he battled his instinctive urge to keep her close to him. He did not want her out of his sight. Not when she was so clearly upset.

What if she bolted during the night?

What if she decided that he was crazed and called for help from Bow Street?

What if she decided to rid herself of the troublesome Medallion and bring an end to her danger?

What if...

The potential for disaster swirled through his mind, but he made no move to follow Jocelyn.

She had promised that they would speak in the morning, and he had to trust her. He owed her that at least.

Instead, he moved to pour himself a measure of the fine brandy. The past half hour had proven to be the most difficult he had ever endured. Not only the realization that he had deeply wounded Jocelyn, but the knowledge that he might have irretrievably destroyed any hope of a future.

With a jerky motion he sipped the smoky spirit, his features stark. Great Nefri. When had he started considering a future with Jocelyn?

Was it when she had confessed her painful rift from her parents? When she had taken him to meet the young maidens she had helped to leave the streets? When he had witnessed her kindness to the poor children in the warehouse? When his lips had first touched her own?

Perhaps it had been the moment he had first entered the house and caught sight of those proud, wounded blue eyes of hers.

Whenever it had occurred, he was a fool.

He had come here to protect her. And more important, to ensure that the traitors did not lay claim to the Medallion.

Those should be his only thoughts until Amadeus was returned behind the Veil and Jocelyn was safe. Everything else would be a distraction that might very well prove to be disastrous.

For all vampires.

Polis.h.i.+ng off the last of the brandy, he set the gla.s.s aside and moved to extinguish the candles. He had no need of light to keep careful watch through the night, and he knew that Meg would remain awake until she was certain that both he and Jocelyn had sought their beds. She was a servant from the old school, and no one could convince her that a n.o.bly born person could possibly recall locking the door or properly putting out the fires.

Moving silently into the hall, he crossed to climb the narrow stairs that would lead to the small garret. He had discovered that his window offered a fine view of the streets, and it was the most reasonable spot to keep guard over the household. And it also allowed him to give some rest to his earthly form.

With his wits distracted by thoughts of Jocelyn, he had reached the door to his chamber, when he belatedly realized there was a faint scent in the air that could come from only one source.

Instantly on the alert, Lucien slipped the dagger from beneath his coat and held it firmly in his hand. A vampire was near. And he could think of only one vampire who would be awaiting him in the garret.

With caution he pushed the door to his rooms open and stepped within. Although the narrow chamber was cloaked in darkness, his sight was easily able to penetrate the shadows. His brows tugged together as he realized that there was nothing to be seen. "Amadeus," he growled in low tones, moving farther into the room. "I know that you are here. Show yourself."

A faint s.h.i.+mmer of mist suddenly appeared in a distant corner, and Lucien carefully hid the dagger behind his back. He did not trust the traitor. If Amadeus had become desperate, Lucien did not doubt for a moment Amadeus would do whatever necessary to rid himself of Lucien's unwelcome presence.

"Show your black soul," he commanded roughly, watching the mist advance.

There was no response, and an odd premonition sent a trickle of ice down his spine.

Amadeus possessed the power of mist-walking, but there was something wrong. This mist was thickening as it approached, and darkening to charcoal color.

Lucien slowly backed away, remaining before the door to ensure whatever was within the mist was not allowed to leave the chamber. He could not let this threat reach Jocelyn. No matter what he had to do.

Coming to a halt, Lucien held the dagger before him. The mist began to spread, becoming a wall of thick fog. He sought to peer through the heavy shroud, but it was impossible. That sense of impending doom deepened as the mist neared, and Lucien fought the urge to rush back through the door.

Whatever this was, he must somehow halt it.

Jocelyn must be kept safe.

That was all that mattered.

Like a thick, icy blanket, the fog slipped about him, and Lucien discovered himself firmly trapped. The dagger fell from his hand as the chill cut straight to his heart and a moan of pain was wrenched from his throat.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.

It was a mist wraith. A spell that had once been in the command of the vampires but had been banished from the world centuries before. It was far too dangerous to all vampires.

At the moment it merely held him in its tentacles. Once it had gained command of him, however, it would feed upon his spirit until he was nothing more than an empty sh.e.l.l.

Lucien closed his eyes and battled to fight the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. To struggle would only hasten his demise. The creature would feast upon his heightened emotions.

Only by remaining calm could he hope to discover a means of escape.

Calm... Great Nefri.

Eleven.

Jocelyn paced the cramped quarters of her bedchamber with uneven steps. Perhaps absurdly, she had hoped that being away from the disturbing presence of Lucien would ease her troubled heart.

Instead, it had only darkened her already black mood.

Vampires? Magical Medallions? Old gypsies who weren't gypsies at all?

It was enough to drive any poor maiden mad.

But while her mind reeled with the effort to accept that vampires were not simply creatures of the imagination but real and living beneath her roof, in her mind it was Lucien's betrayal that lingered.

Dear heavens, she had shared dinner with him, laughed with him, played games with him . . .

shared pa.s.sion with him.

She had opened her past and revealed all the betrayal she had endured. She had opened her heart.

And she had given her trust.

And that was what hurt the most.

She closed her eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. What was the matter with her?

A man was in her home, claiming to be a mythological vampire. There was a deranged killer out on the streets, attempting to force her to hand over a Medallion that supposedly held the fate of the vampires. A Medallion that was altering her in a manner she could not even comprehend.