Emily woke three nights later to find Nigel standing beside her bed, staring down at her. There was that in his expression that seemed to reach deeply inside of her, a need that went beyond sexual. Instinctively, Emily lifted her arms to him, welcoming him.
Relief flickered across his features. Without a word, he disrobed, climbed into bed with her and took her into his arms, kissing her with the hunger of a starving man.
Stroking his hard back and shoulders, caressing his silky hair, she kissed him back with a fervor that matched or surpassed his, realizing only with his touch how much she’d missed it, missed him.
After a few moments, he dragged his mouth from hers and focused upon her body, skating his hands over one shoulder and down her arm to her thigh and then moving his hand upward once more as he lavished hungry kisses along her throat, over her breasts and belly as if impatient to touch and taste every inch of her at once.
Her own need raged out of control and she moaned and twisted against him, pulling at him, urging him to claim her fully.
"What’s this?" Nigel asked abruptly, breaking through the haze of her passion drugged senses.
"What?" Emily asked vaguely.
He tugged at it. "This."
As suddenly as if she’d been thoroughly doused with cold water, Emily remembered the damned chastity belt.
"Uh," she said, stalling for time.
Nigel climbed from the bed and turned the light on, glaring at the offending thing. "It has the look of a chastity belt."
"Does it?" Emily said, still feeling more than a little disoriented from being jerked from the edge of release into a cold, unpleasant reality. "Uh. Well, it is."
Nigel plunked his hands on his hips. "Take it off."
Emily gazed up at him resentfully, torn now between the desire he’d aroused in her and the urge that had prompted her to put it on in the first place, the grim determination to deny him, and to deny the passion he aroused in her so easily.
"I can’t. It’s locked. I need the key."
He gave her a look.
"It’s on the molding over the door," she said with some dudgeon.
Having retrieved it, he placed a knee on the mattress and leaned down to fit the key in the lock. After twisting it back and forth for several moments, he removed the key again. "It’s the wrong key," he said accusingly.
Emily felt her jaw drop. "It can’t be the wrong key! It’s the only key!"
He studied her suspiciously for several moments. "It does na’ work," he said flatly.
"Give it to me!" Emily snapped, snatching the key from his hand and shoving it into the lock herself. "Shit! It must be rusted … but I oiled the damned thing!"
"It’s na’ rusted. It’s the wrong bleedin’ key. What the bloody hell are ye wearin’ it for anyway?"
Emily gave him a look, torn between indignation that he could even ask, frustrated passion, and a deep anxiety that she wasn’t going to get the thing off now that she’d gotten in on. "Could we just discuss this after we get this fucking thing off of me?"
"Just what do ye suggest, seein’ as how ye dinna think ta check the key before ye put it on?"
"Oh! So now it’s my fault that the man that sold it to me gave me the wrong frigging key?"
"No. If’s yer fault fer puttin’ it on ta start with!" he growled. "An’ it’s yer fault ye dinna think ta check the key before ye put it on."
Emily glared at him for several moments and finally slid out of the bed. "That’s not helping me get the thing off," she said stiffly, stalking to the door and flinging the door open.
He followed her down the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen, watching her as she dug around in the cabinet drawers for something to pick the lock. When that didn’t work, she began sorting through the kitchen knives, looking for one with a serrated blade.
"Why did ya put it on ta start with, lass?"
Emily glanced at him. "If you gave it a little thought, I’ll bet you could figure it out," she said tartly.
"Ta keep me out of the honey pot?" he hazarded.
Despite her irritation, she felt the urge to smile at that. With an effort, she quelled it. He took her silence as a yes.
"Ye welcomed me," he said tentatively. "I dinna dream that?"
Emily sighed. "I was half asleep, damn it!" She mulled over it while she struggled to fit the knife she’d chosen between her skin and the narrowest piece of leather. "It’s complicated."
Gently, he took the knife from her hand, set it on the countertop and knelt in front of her. After studying the belt frowningly for several moments, he leaned forward and blew into the keyhole. Emily heard a metallic click and the lock opened. She stared at it blankly a moment. "How did you do that?" she demanded in stunned amazement.
"I’m a vampire, lass. I’ve learned a thing or two in the past several hundred years."
Standing, he grasped her shoulders, studied her for several moments and finally leaned down, kissing her lightly on the forehead. When he leaned away from her again, he simply vanished.
* * * *
Nothing, Emily reflected glumly could more surely dampen your enthusiasm for life in general than to discover just about the time you managed to run a man off that you really didn’t want to run him off.
The chastity belt seemed to have done the trick all right, but she couldn’t seem to garner any sense of triumph at her success. When Nigel had first vanished from the kitchen, she’d been disbelieving, then angry.
It wasn’t like she’d intended to get him all roused up and then leave him hanging.
If she had, she certainly wouldn’t have allowed him to arouse her and leave her hanging.
She didn’t know if he was in his room or not, but she glared at the closed door as she stalked past it to her own room and slammed the door.
She’d been avoiding him for several days before she realized he hardly seemed aware of her efforts. In fact, he was hardly at the castle at all unless he was asleep, and it was really starting to bug the hell out of her, wondering what he was up to.
She was afraid she knew, but she didn’t want to think about it.
When she couldn’t stand it anymore and finally realized that he wasn’t going to spare her by coming around, she gathered her courage and offered an olive branch.
"I’ve got to return the rental car. I’ve already extended on it twice. I figured I’d look for a car while I was in town. If you’d like, I could give you driving lessons."
Nigel, who was ensconced in his partially restored study, looked up absently from the book he was reading. "I’m sorry. I dinna catch that?"
He’d been so deeply engrossed in what he was reading, she realized, he hadn’t heard anything she’d said. Somehow, she couldn’t seem to get up the nerve to try again. "Nothing. Never mind."
It was probably just as well, she told herself as she packed an overnight bag and headed for the car. She’d told Simon she would meet him to discuss the sale of the coins.
Chapter Eighteen
It was tempting to buy a new car, but except for the inheritance from her parents, money had never been easy to come by and Emily found she just wasn’t comfortable with the idea of buying a new car even though she felt that she could probably afford it without demolishing the money she expected to get from the coins.
Then again, they weren’t sold yet, and she couldn’t afford to count her chickens before they hatched.
Settling finally on a late model in excellent condition, she headed for the hotel where she’d stayed the time before and checked in.
Simon, she discovered, had left a message for her at the desk.
A vague sense of uneasiness moved through her. She couldn’t recall that she’d told him where she had stayed before, or that she intended to stay in the same hotel.
She supposed she must have. Otherwise, how would he have known?
She decided she was just being silly.
A sense of guilt had swamped her. Rationally, she knew she had no reason to
feel guilty. In the first place, she had no romantic interest, or sexual interest, in Simon. She was here purely for business reasons.
In the second, she couldn’t be guilty of cheating even if she had felt either, because she wasn’t involved with Nigel, not even tentatively anymore.
She still felt as if she was doing something wrong. She couldn’t shake the feeling and she realized it was because, in spite of everything, she was tied to Nigel.
She loved him.
How could she have been so pigheaded as to have lied to herself about it so long? And why did she have to realize it now, when it was probably too late to do anything about it?
She sat in the room for a time, staring at the wall and trying to decide whether to check out and return home immediately, or call Simon as she’d agreed and go through with the sale of the coins.
She didn’t know what to do.
If she accepted that everything that Nigel had told her was true, and in her heart she did, then she also had to accept that the castle and everything in it was rightfully his, regardless of what was legal. So the coins weren’t hers to sell.
Except that he’d given them to her.
The question was, why?
He’d never said and she’d been too upset about it to ask. Truthfully, she’d done her best just to put that particular incident out of her mind.
She couldn’t sell the coins, she finally decided. She would give them back to Nigel and demand to know why he’d given them to her. She had to know.
She couldn’t just return to the castle and say nothing, however. She’d agreed to meet with Simon about the sale, and it wouldn’t be right to just stand him up when he’d gone to all the trouble to try to make the arrangements for her.
Moving to the bed, she fished Simon’s card from her pocketbook and dialed his number. He picked up on the fourth ring.
"Simon?"
"Hello, Emily. Did you just get in?"
She was oh so tempted to lie to him and tell him she wasn’t in town at all. "A little bit ago. Listen … I’m really sorry, but I can’t sell the coins. I know you went to a lot of trouble arranging things and I’ll be happy to pay your finder’s fee, but … I can’t sell them."
He was silent for several moments. "Problems?"
Emily gnawed her lip. "It’s kind of complicated."
"Why don’t we discuss it over dinner? You haven’t eaten yet?"
She thought that was a really, really bad idea. "No! I mean, I haven’t, but I’m really tired from the drive."
"If you’re not comfortable with discussing the business, we won’t, but I’d like to see you anyway."
Which was exactly the problem. She had the feeling that he wanted to pursue a personal relationship and she couldn’t do that. On the other hand, she’d been flirting with him online. She’d encouraged him. As tempting as it was to take the coward’s way out and dump him on the phone where she wouldn’t actually have to look him in the eyes, it wasn’t right.
"Where?"
"Would you like me to pick you up? Or would you prefer to meet me someplace?"
It didn’t take long to decide that. She far preferred the latter option since she couldn’t think of anything more uncomfortable that having to ride back to her hotel with him after she’d dumped him. "I’ll meet you."
They arranged a time and then he gave her directions from the hotel since she wasn’t familiar with London. Her stomach tightened with nerves the minute she hung up and she was tempted to call him back and cancel.
"Chicken!"
She wanted to call Nigel, but she fought the urge. What could she say?
When she checked the time, she discovered she was going to be late meeting Simon anyway unless she rushed. After a quick shower, she dressed and left the hotel, the driving instructions in her hand.
She began to suspect she’d walked into a trap long before she pulled up in front of the huge house in the purely residential area. Simon hadn’t given her directions to a restaurant! He’d told her how to get to his house!
Emily knew she should just drive off, return to the hotel and call Simon on the phone. If she parked and went up to the door, he was going to assume she was open to his seduction.
Upon reflection, dumping him over the phone seemed like the better part of valor.
As she stared up at the mansion, however, she found herself pulling the car into the drive and turning off the ignition.
Simon was standing beside the car when she got out. Catching her hand, he lifted it to his lips in an old world salute. "I’ve been expecting you."
Emily stared at him in consternation, wondering how she’d come to park the car and get out when she’d just made up her mind not to. "I don’t--why am I here?"
He slipped an arm around her shoulders, walking her toward the front door. "We need privacy for what I have in mind."
Alarm skimmed a chilling finger down Emily’s spine, but somehow she discovered she couldn’t seem to pull away from him or even to object as he led her inside and locked the door firmly behind him.
"What’s happening?"
He smiled. "Nothing just yet. We’ll have to wait until Nigel arrives."
Emily frowned, but discovered her thoughts were more and more disjointed. "He’s coming here?"
"I expect so," Simon responded pensively. "I have his woman."
Chapter Nineteen
Emily found herself in a bed, unclothed. She couldn’t seem to move. Struggling, she finally managed to move her head enough to check her wrists, but, to her consternation, she discovered she wasn’t bound in any way that she could see.
Simon’s face swam before her gaze.
"I can’t move," she whispered plaintively.
He lifted his brows. "You didn’t expect to be able to, did you?"
The comment confused her. "Did you drug me?"
He chuckled at that. "I’ve no need of such things."
"You’re a vampire."
"Very good, but then I thought you were a clever little thing the moment I met you. How did you manage to get Nigel’s gold?"
As difficult as it was to put her thoughts into order, Emily had managed to figure out that Simon was out to get Nigel and thought he could use her to do it. "Who’s Nigel?"
He smiled thinly. "Good try." He leaned toward her. "But I smelled him on you the moment you walked through my door. I knew he’d claimed you as his woman." Settling on the edge of the mattress, he traced a finger along her body from her throat to her mound. "Lovely. I always admired Nigel’s taste in women. Perhaps I’ll keep you when I’m done with Nigel. Would you like that?"
"No."
He grinned, displaying his fangs for the first time and Emily felt another quiver of fear course through her. "I’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Meek women can be so boring."
"He won’t come."
"I think he will."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Funny you should ask," Simon said, rising and pacing across the room. "Revenge … over a woman. Does that wound you?"
It did, but she wasn’t about to admit it. "Mortal or vampire?"
He tilted his head, studying her. "Like you, she was partly both."
Shock went through Emily. "I’m mortal."
"But the blood of vampires runs through you, as well. A tiny dollop, but it’s there. I expect he sensed it, but perhaps not. Perhaps he doesn’t realize why he found you so irresistible, but one is always drawn to those of one’s own kind."
"That’s insane. I’d know if I was a vampire!"
He chuckled. "How, pray tell?"
Emily stared at him in confusion. "I’d know."
He shook his head. "Those of the blue blood, like myself and Nigel--we know, because we know our roots. You would not know unless you’d been told, anymore than you would know if you had an ancestor who was of any other race. You don’t just ‘know’."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because you have the ‘way’. Mortals do not."
&nb
sp; Emily frowned in confusion. "The way?"
"You can resist the mesmer. No mere mortal can. If you were purely mortal, you wouldn’t be asking so many questions. You’d be lying there like a good little lamb, awaiting your fate."
The comment sent a surge of hope through Emily. She remembered that Nigel had found her ‘resistance’ confusing. He’d thought it was because he was weakened from his long sleep, but maybe Simon was right. And, if he was right, maybe she could free herself?
"You can’t. You don’t have the strength."
"Can’t what?" Emily asked cautiously.
He smiled thinly. "You don’t guard your thoughts at all well."
"You might just as well let me go. Nigel won’t come. I’m not his woman."
He tilted his head, studying her. Finally, he crossed the room and settled beside her on the bed once more, stroking her face. Instantly, Emily felt as if she was falling asleep, felt the same sense of drifting downward and losing awareness of her surroundings.
She found herself in her own bed, looking up at Nigel. He was staring down at her, his expression guarded, but filled with need. A sense of welcome flowed through her, warming her. Her body quickened with desire and she lifted her arms to him.
Dimly, she realized that she was dreaming of their last time together. Distress filled her when she remembered how terribly wrong everything had gone from there.
"I didn’t mean it, Nigel. Please. Don’t be angry with me. I love you."
To her relief, he seemed to accept her apology, climbing into the bed with her and gathering her in his arms, kissing her as if he needed her more than anything else, even the air he breathed.
Desire, full blown, exploded inside of her as he kissed her, filled her with his heat, with his essence.
Abruptly, the kiss changed completely and she realized it wasn’t Nigel who was kissing her. She struggled, trying to push him away, but she found that it was useless. She couldn’t fight him.
"Nigel," she whispered in despair as she felt herself slipping into Simon’s thrall.
She woke to full awareness almost as abruptly as she’d fallen asleep and blinked up at Simon in stunned surprise. A satisfied smile curled his lips.
Eternity Page 11
