by Minda Webber
Slyly, she studied him. His ebony hair was tousled by the wind, and his cheeks were red. There was a nervous energy about him that she quite liked. He was brimming with life and with something wild that reminded her of primeval forests in the dead of night. She could easily see how she had made her mistake in thinking that the baron was one of the seductive Nosferatu.
"I can see why I thought you were a vampire." She spoke her thought aloud. "It is a shame. You would make a most distinguished one. You are so dark and… I don't know. There is something wild in your bearing. And you have such big white teeth."
Ian slowed his matching team of chestnut bays, thinking how pretty she was in her blue velvet pelisse with dark gold braiding on the collar and cuffs. Clair was also wearing a saucy poke bonnet in the same blue hue. The white feathers fluttered in the breeze. The clothes deepened the color of Clair's gray eyes, making them appear a smoky blue, and gazing into them, Ian could feel himself getting lost.
"You have mentioned the teeth before." He grinned, showing them off. "All the Huntsleys have them—broad, strong teeth, that is."
He would have loved to tell her what else he had that was overly large, but figured that would pop her cork. In spite of her scientific bent, which appeared to lead the little imp into areas other ladies feared to tread, Clair Frankenstein was still an innocent.
For personal safety, it had been a long time since Ian had wooed a virgin. He was considered a prime catch on the marriage mart, which was a fact overanxious mamas and drooling debutantes reminded him of often. That had kept Ian away from innocence untried, for if he took a lady's virginity, he would be at the wedding chapel at the drop of a hat as honor and society demanded.
"So your teeth are a family trait, like a large nose or thin limbs?" she teased.
"Something like that." He glanced back to the road leading to the park. "Are you terribly disappointed I am not a creature of the night, drinking blood and sleeping in coffins?"
Clair laughed. "Last night I was devastated. Today I am more resigned. After all, if you were a vampire, then we would not be having this drive in the park. I think I shall count my blessings."
"Yes, the bright light of day does often bring sanity. And logic and most certainly reality."
A beetle landed near his boots, and he glanced around. To his left a blackbird took flight to here, there, and everywhere. A few noted Corinthians on horseback pranced in the Norwegian Wood just off the park. Four brightly colored curricles filled with couples drove slowly down the long and winding path nicknamed Penny Lane. Their laughter was often false and forced, he noted. So many nowhere men with the world at their command, each human life touching no life but his own.
Strangely, Ian felt a stirring of pity for all the lonely people. Where did they all belong? Yesterday he might have been one of them, until he saw Clair standing there, like a taste of honey. He reached for her hand, wanting to hold it.
"Miss Frankenstein, the reality is that I have questions." In spite of his growing attraction to Clair, they didn't call him the spymaster for nothing. Ian would uncover her secrets—and uncover them quickly.
Clair's heartbeat picked up as she stared down at her hand in his. She had to admit it looked altogether perfect. His hand was hot and comforting.
There was something in the way he moved and something in his smile that touched her.
He made her skin tingle. He made her nervous. He made her think of things behind closed doors. She was afraid she was quickly becoming a woman of loose morals, thirsty for things she didn't understand. Yet her body at the cellular level was primed and ready to go. Her hormones were on the hunt. "Yes?"
"Who told you that I hid during the day?" He had to know who in his employ or acquaintance had noted his recent odd habits.
"Please, let it be."
"I can't."
"No one in particular," she lied.
"This is important, or I wouldn't ask you to betray a confidence. But a man like myself has many enemies, and secrets can hurt me." His tone was grim, his look stern. "Please. It is a word I don't often use." Truer words were never spoken. Ian Huntsley was a formidable man of many talents, some deeply hidden. He did not suffer thwarting lightly.
Yes, he was a complex man, loving few things. But those things he loved, he loved deeply and forever. Life had made him both strong and self-reliant. No matter how many times he got knocked down, he would always jump back up, swinging. And the perpetrator would end up being much, much the worse for wear.
Clair turned her attention back to the road in front of the carriage, watching how the bays moved in perfect tandem. They were an exquisite pair, with sleek coats and sooty-trimmed manes flying in the wind. She could see why the baron owned them. Even his mistresses were prime specimens, women most beautiful and accomplished. And thinking of mistresses, Clair recalled their words extolling the baron's lovemaking techniques.
She blushed. She was becoming a lascivious, licentious, lusty, and lewd lady. Hmm. She hadn't realized so many negative words began with the letter l. This won't do, she mused, concentrating on scientific l-words, like laboratory, lithosphere, the Luckenback Principle and lubrication. Oh dear, wrong l-word. She was already feeling a bit of moisture between her thighs. She certainly didn't need to be reminding herself of lubrication.
Ian interrupted her thoughts. "It's truly important to me, Miss Frankenstein. I must know who has been gossiping."
Frowning, she debated with herself, hating to break a source's confidence, but at the same time understanding the baron's need to know. "I did a study, a thorough investigation of your habits and life. For instance, I spoke with a tailor who said he came to your house only at night. Your retired man of business, Mr. Bell, also said you chose the night to do your estate work and other business. The second-to-last mistress you employed—I believe her name was Miss Trixie Delight—said she saw you only at night. Your last mistress, a Mrs. Joy N. Morning, also confirmed the fact."
At the mention of the word "mistress," Ian lifted an eyebrow. Well-bred young ladies never mentioned the m-word. They politely pretended the demimonde had only existed in biblical days and certainly not here in the mother country.
"I put two and two together and…"
Ian interrupted grimly. "And came up with five." He flicked his wrist, giving the bays more room to roam on the path. He would deal gravely with the men who'd betrayed him. His business was his own, and he liked no one gossiping about him. He dealt in too many different arenas, in both his personal and business life, to have his actions questioned.
Clair laughed. "I guess so. But you can see where I got my numbers."
Ian shrugged. "Not really. Many men prefer to work and play at night, then sleep during the day. That doesn't make them vampires. Especially since such creatures don't exist."
Clair shook her head, rolling her eyes, and her bonnet feathers shook. "So you say. However, my family feel quite differently about the subject."
He really had to change her mind about studying the secrets of the supernatural world, which was shrouded in peril. Blood oaths had been taken, which made the whole situation even more dangerous. However, Ian doubted he could change Clair's mind.
At the most basic level, it was a woman's prerogative to change her mind—almost a passage of youth from pigtails to pearls. Ian understood that. And it was a prerogative which women practiced consistently, in his view. But Clair was not most females. She was a Frankenstein, and Frankensteins seemed to be made up of an entirely different and altogether less predictable mettle. (And if you happened to be one of their creations, then you could be made of any old assortment of odd body parts as well.)
"Vampires are a myth, a legend of ignorant peasants and fodder for writers," he said again.
Clair cocked a brow, studying him. "Baron, this is 1828. We are at the dawn of new scientific discoveries both in the natural and supernatural world. Take Babbage's difference engine, Oersted's theory on magnetic effects, and Brewster's kaleidoscop
e, for example. You'd be surprised how many of those men believe in the supernatural and the v-word."
"The v-word?"
"Vampire," she clarified, leaning closer. "You, my lord, should really keep an open mind. Expand your horizons."
Glancing at two of Clair's most prominent assets, he tightened his jaw, feeling some expansion in his nether regions. The woman was a threat to everything he stood for, to his sanity—and worse, to his willpower. With a little more encouragement from Clair, his staff would be at full mast, flying high in the wind.
Stealing a glance at her face, he was very relieved that she couldn't read his mind. He wanted to expand his horizons all right. Right down to taking off her lacy drawers and having his wicked way with her all week, each day and each night. A marathon of sexual hijinks both vertical and horizontal. Horizons, indeed. "I will keep that in mind," he commented drolly.
"Science never advances when thoughts are stagnant. We must go forth and search, knowing that science has no boundaries and that possibilities are endless and infinite. Why be limited to known reality when there is obviously so much more?"
Ian grimaced, wondering to himself when the name "Frankenstein" and reality had ever not been mutually exclusive. Setting his bays at a brisk pace, he found his carriage passing more curricles of all sizes and colors as the fashionable hour drew near.
He and Clair nodded at a passing acquaintance or two. But Ian was in no mood for talk at the moment, pondering as he was his dilemma. Miss Frankenstein was not going to cease and desist. It was not in her nature. He had to stop her research and investigations into the otherworldly. He had thought long and hard on the problem the previous night and come up with a solution. He was male and she was female. It would be the oldest trick in the book. He would call it Plan A, The Seduction of Clair Frankenstein. Although he wouldn't actually seduce her to the point of taking her maidenhead, he would keep her distracted enough to forego her investigation. It was a dastardly task, but he was just the right man for the job.
After several minutes of their carriage's brisk pace, Clair touched his arm. "I have another confession to make."
"You are looking for goblins too?" he teased, his manner lightening.
"Don't be silly. Goblins don't exist."
"You don't believe in goblins, but you do in vampires? An interesting conundrum."
"You are being a boor."
"My dear Miss Frankenstein, I am never anything so mundane."
She smiled. "True. In fact, you are actually so imposing that I thought you the leader of the vampire nest."
"Ah. I guess I am flattered that you see me as a leader of monsters," he teased. Then he probed for more information. "Did you say 'nest'?"
"Yes. I don't know if you are aware or not, but many vampires live in nests of sorts. You know, birds of a feather and all that rubbish. Sometimes their familiars live with them." Clair and her friend Jane Van Helsing had discussed Clair's theories, with Jane giving pointers on vampire rules and regulations. And Jane should know, being a member of the Van Helsing clan, notorious vampire hunters as well as manufacturers and marketers of a fine line of quality oaken stakes.
Ian urged the horses forward as his mind raced. Just what did Clair know? Or, rather, what did she think she knew? "Familiars?"
"Yes. Familiars can consist of a warlock or witch mixed in with the vampires. They give the vampires guidance with their magic. And wolves. Well, not actually wolves, but werewolves. Vampires can call werewolves. Of course, if they want them in wolf form, they must wait until the full moon, so the shapeshifter can shift to animal form."
Ian cursed silently. He had to forge ahead carefully.
Clair Frankenstein was digging up a whole can of worms that would wriggle around and bite her most shapely little arse if she didn't back off. "Werewolves? I thought the vampires would be able to call bats."
"Those too," she answered, uncertain if he was teasing her. "Vampires are powerful and can call more than one animal to them."
Ian winced. "So you intend to go around chasing these monsters down and then writing about them so you can publish your discoveries?" His expression was grim.
"Yes. It is my most heartfelt wish. I wish to win the prestigious Scientific Discovery of the Decade Award."
"Dead women don't win awards."
"I am being careful. Didn't I have my garlic and stakes with me last night at your home?"
Ian glanced toward the heavens, thinking that it would take a small miracle to keep Clair Frankenstein from being eaten alive by her research projects. "How does your aunt Mary feel about this?"
Clair shrugged. "She is resigned to it. However, my great-aunt Abby, who is Uncle Victor's aunt, is very excited. She has always believed in otherworldly creatures."
Ian pulled the carriage over on the side of the path. "Miss Frankenstein, if there are such creatures about, don't you think that they might not want to be brought to the public eye?"
"I imagine they won't be thrilled."
Ian shook his head slightly. He responded, his voice thick with irony, "No, I don't imagine they would be. Do you think they might dislike it enough to get violent?"
"Well," she hedged, "their natures are violent. But I did most thorough research. No one has died of loss of blood due to a wound in the neck for over five years."
Ian snorted. "A vampire is supposedly a most villainous creature. I have read some of the stories written about them. They enjoy torture. Every one is a predator. Someone is bound to get eaten. What do you think they will do to a human who dares expose them?" His bays moved restlessly, and Ian tightened his grip on their reins and got them moving again.
Clair looked everywhere except at his vibrant green eyes. "I imagine they might be a tad irritated."
"A tad irritated," Ian echoed sardonically, wanting to yank her into his arms and shake some sense into her. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. She was many things, but he had to admit faint of heart was not one of them. "I would say it might just be a bloodbath. Yours!"
Clair paled, pulling her cape tightly around herself. "True scholars of the sciences must go forward. We can't stand back because we are afraid, and let the truth be buried. Besides, you don't believe in such nonsense."
Ignoring her words, Ian reached over and touched her cheek. "I don't want to see you buried, Miss Frankenstein."
His touch was tender, sending a shiver of excitement through her. "Clair. Please call me Clair."
"And name is Ian."
"It is a fine name." Then she laughed. "But not much of a name for a vampire."
Ian shook his head and grinned tiredly. "No, I don't think I have heard of a single vampire called Ian."
Clair released his arm. Gazing into his eyes she said, "I thought you said you didn't believe in vampires."
Ian's patience snapped. "Clair, if there is a possibility of supernatural beings living in London, a slight possibility, I don't want to see you hurt by trying to discover who they are and where they are. I can't stress this enough!"
Clair looked down at her hands in her lap. "Thank you, Ian. I appreciate your concern. But I cannot stop my scientific studies. It would be cowardly and wrong. What would happen to the world if we gave up when the going got difficult? What would happen to man's spirit if he let his dreams die?"
She gazed at him steadily, trying to help him see. "Thoreau wrote, 'If you consistently advance in the directions of your dreams and endeavor to live the life which you have imagined, you will meet with success in common hours. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost. That's where it should be. Now put the foundation under them.'" She glanced away, emotion stark on her face. Her dreams and goals were who she was and what she lived for.
Ian was deeply moved. For too long he had lived in a gray area between dusk and dawn. He had lost his youth, his father, and almost his mother to her morose grief. Yet he had gone on, anticipating neither the journey or the journey's end. "I have heard Thor
eau read before, but never have I heard words put so beautifully and to such purpose."
Clair blushed. "So you understand this is my destiny, to follow the star that only I can see?"
"Ah… a believer in the Fates."
She laughed. "You have to be if you're of Frankenstein ancestry. Uncle Victor always says there's no escaping destiny. It's like a runaway train, hurtling us to our unknown destination. We can get off the train for a bit, but ultimately we must always reboard or be left behind in obscurity."
"You will continue on this path you've set yourself, even if you know it will get you killed?"
Clair wanted to make him understand. It was important to her to know that he accepted who and what she was. "How can I do less than the legions of Frankensteins before me? Uncle Tieck was laughed out of university for his novel on vampires. And look at Uncle Victor. The villagers tarred and feathered him for creating Frederick. But their travails never stopped my uncles from their scientific or artistic quests. How can I give up? How can I be less than I was raised to be? It is who I am, a Frankenstein. she finished modestly.
Scowling, he knew he was going to have to do some serious thinking to try and change her mind. She was a woman of strong convictions. Even worse, she had a quest. "I don't suppose you are interested in the Holy Grail?" he said.
"Why, Ian, what a strange question." Clair chuckled.
"Forget it. It was only a passing thought," he replied glumly. "Well, I'll be deuced! I thought he was still in the Highlands."
"Who?"
"See that giant coming toward us? The one in the dark green riding jacket?"
She nodded, studying the figure who was approaching at a fast clip. The man was large, not heavy but stocky. And he appeared to be very tall and wide of shoulder like Ian.
"My cousin, Galen McBain, my father's sister's son. Someday he'll be laird of the McBains."
Ian pulled his bays over and onto the unbeaten path, out of the way of the promenading curricles, as Galen McBain arrived on his tall roan mount. He dismounted lithely for such a big man. He stood holding the reins of his steed, a friendly smile on his face.
