Anthony poured the final pail of steaming water into the copper bath and gave Emily a dubious look. "Are you certain you wish to do this?"
She finished tying her apron and nodded. "If all goes well, he'll be better by the end of the night. I won't have him waking up look-in like he does now."
Anthony walked over to Colin's bed. Coal dust had darkened his blond hair, which was matted and stringy. Other than his hair, however, he was clean.
He turned back to Emily, ready to protest, but she silenced him with a frown.
Undaunted, Anthony suggested, "Why don't you and I take a bath instead?"
Her severe expression faded, replaced by a warm, feminine smile. "Later."
That sultry promise rolled through him, and he fairly leapt across the room to kiss her before she recalled that there would probably not be a later for them. "I'm only doing this because of this—and earlier," he said when he lifted his lips from hers.
"Kisses as payment?" she said breathlessly. "Lilith would be proud."
He laughed, and her eyes darkened with pleasure. With regret, he released her and strode back to the bed, reached down, and tugged Colin's nightshirt over his head with one quick movement. He lifted his friend's naked body, mumbling as he crossed over to the bath, and set him gently in the water.
"What did you say?" Emily asked as she propped Colin's neck away from the rim with a cushion of folded towels.
Anthony blushed. "I said it isn't natural to see a friend naked, let alone carry him around that way."
Grinning, Emily began soaping Colin's chest. "I'll never tell him."
"Good." He watched her efficient movements and then helped hold Colin out of the water when she pushed him forward to wash his back. "You are good at this," he said with admiration.
Pink tinged her cheeks. "I don't make a habit of washing grown men, if that is what you are thinking."
Surprised, he met her gaze. "No," he said. "I wasn't thinking that at all. Just that you have a talent for caring for people."
"So says the poor doctor who resented having to become one," she said. She glanced up, her eyes wide. "I didn't mean that like it sounded."
He smiled. "I am glad I'm not the only one; around you, nothing I say seems to come out as I want it to." A hint of a smile curved her lips. He added, "And you are correct, I didn't want to be one. But now that I have this Gift, I am grateful I studied."
Nodding, she began lathering Colin's hair. "The unexpected pleasures are often the sweetest," she said softly. Her eyes took on a faraway cast, a mixture of sadness and love in their warm depths. "I did not know how much joy Robert would bring to me. He brought me out of it—that resentment I nearly let destroy me, my family. I was searching for someone to love me, a way to humiliate my father, and what I really needed was to think of someone other than myself."
"Surely it wasn't that simple," Anthony said. He dipped one of the buckets into the bathwater and poured it over Colin's head at her signal.
"No, it's not that simple," she agreed with a shake of her head. "But it feels that way now. Being with Robert made me remember how good it felt to believe in love, to regain that optimism and innocence—hope without naivete. I was able to let go most of that bitterness I'd let consume me."
She looked up at him. "I blamed my father—but he was not a bad man for ignoring me, was he? Nor was he really a good man." She wrapped a dry towel around Colin's head and rubbed. "He was just a man who fell in love twice."
Her words made his chest ache. "Yes," he agreed, his voice hoarse. "You will, too."
"I hope that is true," she said. Tears dripped from her lashes and landed with a splash in the bathwater. "Help me lift him out, then hold him up while I dry him."
He did as she bade, watching as she pressed a towel to her face before turning toward him, briskly wiping the water from Colin's body. "In the letter, I apologized to Mrs. Newland," she said. "When I visited her that day, I was horrible. I called her terrible names."
"How did she react?" Anthony said quietly, unsurprised. He'd seen the name she'd written on the paper for Hugh.
Emily smiled in reluctant admiration. "She held her own. When I accused her of using her courtesan tricks to entrap my father, she told me exactly what those tricks were." Her smile faded. "And then I found you in the library, and took out my disappointment on you."
Anthony lay Colin on the bed. "Did your father ever mention the sword after you sent it to her?"
"No—I meant to make him ashamed, to let him know that I knew about her—but I don't think he ever was. And that made me angry." She worked Colin's arms into the sleeves of a clean nightshirt.
"Hence the other men." He tucked the blankets under Colin's still form.
"Yes. I thought if he could buy love, then I could, too." There was no shame in her eyes, no regret. "I am just human. Just a woman."
His woman. For a short, short time.
She met his kiss halfway. With a growl of need and hunger, he scooped her into his arms and strode from the room. Her hands roamed everywhere. His face, his chest, his back all felt the branding heat of her touch—a heat he feared and hoped he'd never forget. Her fingers slipped down, measured the rigid length of his cock, and he did not have the strength to make it to her bedchamber.
He entered the first room he found, turned, and pressed her up against the door, using her weight to push it closed. She gasped against his neck as he palmed her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over their hardened peaks through her bodice.
Desperate to feel her skin, he ripped her dress and chemise lengthwise from neckline to hips, muttering an apology. Her shuddering laugh ended on a moan as his lips closed over her nipple, suckling, biting.
Her hands fisted in his hair. "Tell me, Anthony," she demanded. "There is no one to hear."
The words pierced through him, but he could not speak.
She tugged, insistent. "I need to hear it."
She deserves to bear it. He laved his tongue along the underside of her breast and found his voice. "I love you," he said, and her breath caught. "I love the softness of your breasts, and the way you shiver against me when I worship them with my mouth, my tongue."
As if in answer, she trembled and watched with dark eyes as he circled her nipple with his tongue and drew the peak deep. Her hips rocked back against the door; her gaze never left his as he released her nipple and trailed kisses over her belly. "I love your navel, the little dip and shadow," he said, and flicked his tongue inside. The smooth muscles of her stomach quivered.
He reached lower, found the edge of her torn clothing, ripped it all the way to the hem. Tilting her hips forward, he dragged his tongue down her sex and held her up when her knees would have given out. "I love the taste of you, hot, drenched, the way you watch me unashamed." He grasped her behind her knees, lifted, and stood.
She reached between them and guided him to her. The head of his cock slid along her damp folds, notched against her entrance. "I love the way your muscles clasp around me as you take me inside, as if you want to keep me out but can't bear to." Her back arched, and she pressed down hard, tilling herself when he would have gone slowly.
His throat closed as her warm sheath completely surrounded him. "Emily," he said, his voice rough with tension. "I can't keep telling you. I am coming undone."
Her thighs clenched as she lifted herself and then slipped back down over him. "Let me help you," she said. Her arms slid around his neck, and she rose and fell again. "You love it when I ride you, like this." A swivel of her hips stole his voice and his control, and he pushed her against the door and thrust hard. The sweet cling and drag of her inner muscles made him shake. He held her up with one forearm and slid his other hand between them.
"You love that I am tight—oh God, Anthony." He strummed her clit and felt the taut bud slick under his fingers. His hand moved lower, felt the stretch of her around his shaft, fisted himself, and pressed against her in sharp rhythm.
Her breath came in pants. "You lov
e it when I spend," she said, "when I come apart in your arms." Her back bowed, and her nails raked along his back. Unclenching his hand, he allowed himself to sink deep, deep. The tremors that quaked through her small frame echoed the clasp and pull along the length of his cock, the vibrations of the door behind them as he stroked hard, as he took a few last greedy gulps of her before he buried himself completely.
She whispered the words against his lips as he came, gave back to him what he'd given to her. "You were never unsuitable, Anthony. I was." And silenced his protest with a kiss.
She rocked him to climax again as the base of the sun flattened against the horizon. He helped her as she dressed, his fingers lingering over skin soon covered. Together, they chained Colin for what she prayed would be the last time.
Her dinner of cold meat, cheese, and bread felt heavy in her stomach, and the wait for Hugh's return interminable. Anthony paced at the library window as twilight faded, watching as darkness fell.
She could not bear to look into it.
"Do you think something has gone wrong?"
Anthony raked his hand through his hair. "I don't know." His voice filled with frustration. "Why did Michael send me? I know nothing of demons or nosferatu, or protecting those I love."
"Stop," she said mildly, though anxiety coiled tighter inside her.
He glanced at her and grinned crookedly. "Thank you."
Rising from the sofa, she walked over to stand next to him at the window. He dropped a quick kiss to her lips and held her against his chest as he peered out into the night. "There they are," he said finally.
Emily turned, but she could only see her wavering reflection in the glass. "Where?"
Anthony stiffened against her, leaning forward as if to confirm something he was seeing. "He's carrying Lilith," he said. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her out into the hallway and ran with her to the front door.
Her heart pounded in her chest as he paused. When she looked at him, he said, "Appearances are almost always deceiving—I'm not opening this door until I'm certain it is them."
"Why do they need a door?" Emily said breathlessly.
He blinked, and a moment later a crash came from the front parlor. "Perhaps the rules are forfeit," he said with a grim smile, and they ran to the parlor.
Hugh and Lilith lay in a shatter of glass; a cold breeze fluttered in through the smashed window. Hugh raised feral eyes to Anthony.
"Heal her," he commanded and leapt to his feet.
Anthony didn't hesitate, kneeling beside the demon. Emily moved to his side, gasping when she saw the hole torn in Lilith's neck, the blood spreading across the peach and green rug.
"What happened? Did the nosferatu do this?" Anthony said. He pressed his hands to her throat, and his body wrenched as he began the healing.
Hugh met Emily's wide-eyed gaze. "He has your nephew."
"Robert?" Her lips trembled, and a sick, numbing pain swept through her. Anthony's hands jerked away from Lilith's body, and he caught Emily when she would have slipped to her knees on the shards of glass. He carried her to the sofa.
"Heal Lilith first," Hugh said, his voice almost gentle. "We may need her to fight."
Emily nodded slightly, and Anthony returned to the supine demon.
"Is he alive?" she asked dully.
"Unharmed, when I last saw him—the nosferatu will likely use him to bargain for the sword. He knows he could never defeat all three of us."
Emily closed her eyes in relief, in dread. "But it is not so difficult to defeat the heart of an aunt?"
"No." Hugh's gaze was sympathetic. "I will not resist should you decide to make the trade."
"If he takes the sword, he will kill us all," Lilith said, her voice raspy. Anthony pulled the demon to her feet and then dropped her hand. "Better one die than five. Six, including your brother."
"Quiet, Lilith," Hugh said sharply. "You do not truly believe that."
Lilith shrugged carelessly.
Emily bent forward, covered her ears with her hands, and fought the urge to scream. She felt Anthony's fingers against her shoulder, gentle and reassuring, and wanted to push them away. She wanted to hold her grief close and alone.
She slid her palm into his and felt her numbness ease. When she finally looked up again, her anger was hot and bright. "Where is he?"
As if in morbid answer, Robert's voice rang weakly through the room. "Aunt Emily!" The words were laced with sobs and pain, and she started to her feet with a cry.
Anthony steadied her with a hand on her forearm and shook his head. "That's not him," he said. "He's trying to draw you out."
"Are you certain?"
His eyes never left her face. "Yes."
She noted that his sword was in his hand now—Hugh and Lilith had armed themselves as well and stood shoulder to shoulder facing the hallway.
Her heart slowed to a deep, rolling beat within her as she heard the swing of the front door, and then the bump and slide of a body dragged across the parquet in the entrance hall.
The nosferatu hulked in the doorway, but she could only stare at the slim, lanky form of the boy who lay on the floor, his eyes closed. Robert's small hand and wrist were enclosed by the creature's huge fist, and the nosferatu pulled the boy farther into the room, coming to a halt fifteen feet from the small group by the sofa.
"I can hear his heartbeat," Anthony whispered. "It is strong."
The nosferatu smiled, his lips thick cuts of liver against his pale skin. "Unless I tear his arm off—which I will do if the human does not give the sword to me."
It did not require a decision; there was no choice to make. She turned to Hugh and nodded—with a sigh, he reached inside his robe and brought forth her father's sword. Lilith hissed with displeasure but made no move to stop him. Hugh flipped the blade around, offering her the hilt. "My lady," he said respectfully.
She wrapped her fingers around the handle without hesitation. It was warmed from the heat of Hugh's body, but she felt no great power in it. Strange that she should feel so little for a thing that caused so much pain.
The nosferatu's triumphant laugh echoed through the room. She took a step toward it, and Anthony's arms came around her waist and held her fast, while his mouth pressed to her ear.
His voice was tortured. "He will betray you the moment he has the sword," he said. "We will not have time to reach you. I cannot watch you die."
Her eyes on Robert, she said, "I have to believe it will come out right."
"If she becomes a Guardian, that would be a fine conclusion," Lilith called out, her voice mocking.
Anthony's arms tightened around her. "Though I would keep you with me forever, having you die in this way would not be worth it."
With gleaming eyes, the nosferatu let go of Robert's hand. She winced as the boy's knuckles banged sharply against the floor. "Give me the sword, and I will leave you all unharmed," he said. His stare penetrated, persuaded.
Emily felt the insidious twist of his mind in hers and closed herself off from his lies.
The sword grew heavy in her grasp. "Anthony, you cannot hold me here. I am not immortal, and we do not have forever. Robert and I must move on—I must go forward." Though her chest ached to say them, every word that came from her rang with truth.
"You do not have to sacrifice yourself in this way; I cannot allow it. We will fight it—"
Anthony's voice was cut off, and his arms were pulled from around her waist. She tore her gaze from the nosferatu to see Hugh's forearm wrapped around Anthony's neck, dragging him away. Anthony's eyes burned with rage, but he could not break the grip of the older Guardian.
Hugh's face was grim and full of regret. "We cannot interfere with her actions; we must respect her free will," he said.
"The nosferatu doesn't," Lilith observed dryly. The demon's red eyes were bright with amusement.
Emily turned back toward the nosferatu. She could not look at Anthony again; she did not want to see the anger nor the entreaty—nor the grief.
I have to believe it will come out right.
She held the sword in front of her, the tip pointed at the nosferatu as if in defense, though she knew with his speed he could easily deflect any blow.
A final look at Robert strengthened her, and the trembles of fear that had made the sword an iron weight ceased. She strode forward, never taking her eyes from the creature, making plans and calculations with each step. If she dove for Robert the moment he took the sword, perhaps she would gain enough time for the Guardians to protect her. If she dropped the sword, perhaps that would give her—and them—even more time.
Stopping when the tip of the sword was inches from the nosferatu, she said, "You may take it."
And then she did none of those things she planned, because the nosferatu looked past her shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise—and in that moment of distraction, she slid the blade forward and his stomach parted like water.
He screamed in rage. She nearly fell back with the force of it, but strong, familiar hands covered hers, twisting the sword and dragging it up through bone and muscle. The scream gurgled to silence as the blade bisected heart and lungs. The nosferatu stared at them, his mouth gaping open, fangs red with his own blood. When he collapsed to his knees, Anthony pulled the sword from his chest and severed the neck with one sharp blow.
Emily crumpled to the floor and pulled Robert into her arms. Her hands smoothed over him, and a sob broke from her lips when she found him uninjured, breathing as if in a deep sleep.
Through tears of relief, she glanced up at Anthony. He stood stiffly, and she recognized his protective stance. She followed his gaze and gasped in horror.
The bloody point of Lilith's sword protruded from Hugh's chest. The Guardian's face was pale, his lips drawn tight. He gripped the blade of the sword with both hands, as if to stop the demon from repeating the same motion that Anthony had used to kill the nosferatu.
With a growl, Lilith lifted her foot and booted him forward off her sword. He fell to his knees, clutching his hands against the stain spreading across the front of his robe. She looked at Anthony and eyed Michael's sword greedily. "He was inhibiting your free will, after all. And mine. I was itching for a good fight. Now, be a good pigeon and give me that little toy."
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