The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein

by Minda Webber

Bowing, he demanded, "You are going to rest after our journey. No snooping, spying, or sneaking around until I can go with you."

  Crossing her fingers behind her back, Clair gave him a sweet smile. "Of course."

  "Of course you'll rest, or of course you'll snoop?"

  "Rest," she replied pettishly.

  Kissing her forehead, he turned and headed toward the third-floor stairs. Looking over his shoulder he called, "It's almost dusk. I'll be back in a couple of hours to escort you to supper."

  Clair slipped inside her room, quickly brushing the travel dust off her clothes. She sighed as she glanced at her aunt, who had already taken off her cloak and bonnet. "I wish either my maid or yours could have made the trip with us."

  "You know Karla had that nasty toothache and Pam's baby was running a fever," Lady Mary replied.

  Removing her bonnet, Clair dropped it on a delicate chair with pale pink flowers. "The earl's butler told me he would send a maid up later to help us dress." Unlatching her valise, she pulled her silver comb and brush set out and began brushing the tangles in her waist-length hair. "I thought it odd that the earl wasn't here to greet us," she said.

  "His butler said he would return shortly. Some emergency with one of the tenants."

  Hmm, Clair mused. "Nonetheless, I guess I shouldn't look a gift wolf in the mouth."

  "What was that, dear?" Lady Mary asked, straightening from taking off her boots.

  "Nothing much. Just a thought." Clair finished brushing her hair.

  Lady Mary surveyed her niece with a critical eye. There was no doubt about it: Clair looked different, more confident, and unfortunately more secretive. "Is there anything you would like to talk to me about?" she probed, hoping Clair would confide in her about a relationship with the baron.

  Clair shook her head, setting out her toilette articles. "No." She couldn't tell her aunt about Ian yet. It was too new, too personal—and besides, she knew exactly what her aunt would do. She would be married before she could say, "In a pig's eye."

  Although Clair longed to talk with her aunt, she knew deep down that she could not take the bridal veil just yet. She and Ian had to resolve their differences concerning her research and studies. Ian had to accept her as she was and would always be: as a scientific Frankenstein to the blissful end, even after marriage. Though she knew many women lost their identities when entering the married state, Clair would not allow that to happen.

  She grimaced and tied her hair back in a long braid. She loved Ian Huntsley with all her heart. She just had to bring him around to her way of thinking. He was only a man. They weren't as astute as females. They weren't as determined as women, and they certainly weren't as smart. Still, he was her man. She sighed. That part of her body, which had truly been untouched until a few nights before, was throbbing. Her blood was on fire. Her breasts were aching. She was looking forward in a totally unladylike manner to discovering more of Ian's expertise in lovemaking.

  Glancing out the corner of her eye at her aunt, who was slipping into her bedrobe, Clair mused that she and Ian stood little chance of being alone together. Not with everything working against them.

  Sensing her niece's restlessness, Lady Mary asked, "I take it you are undertaking your search now?"

  Clair nodded.

  "Be careful. Remember the story about that silly young girl who was always running around in that dreadful red cloak."

  "Red Riding Hood?"

  "Yes, dear. That's the one."

  "Your point, Auntie?" Clair questioned, her hand on the doorknob.

  "Well, dear, she got eaten!"

  Clair kissed her aunt's cheek. "I'll be fine." Then she slipped out the door.

  In the hall outside she checked to see if anyone was about. Good, she thought cheerfully. She was alone. Hurrying down three doors, she came to the earl's chamber, a fact that she had learned earlier by questioning the footman. Since Asher wasn't in at the moment, it seemed the perfect time to search his room.

  Slipping inside, Clair took note of the deep burgundy hues in which the chamber was decorated. They surprised her. She thought a werewolf would be more comfortable in earth tones such as brown and green. Meticulously she made her search, finding nothing, and was just about to slip out the door when she heard the sound of the earl's voice in the hall.

  Stifling a curse, Clair hurried over to the large plush drapes. She slid behind them just as the door opened and someone stepped inside.

  Asher walked into his bedchamber, giving it a quick glance as Wilder trailed behind him. He swore as he noticed the pair of delicate green shoes barely visible under the drapes. She's at it again, he thought with wry amusement. Clair was on the hunt, and she hadn't been in his home for more than an hour.

  Asher started unbuttoning his coat, while Wilder lounged against the wardrobe. "Asher, it's just a speck of dirt on your sleeve. I don't see why you have to change the jacket," the second vampire complained.

  "I want to look my best for Clair," Asher answered with a sly smile. Here was a chance to advance his cause, the sinful seduction of Clair Frankenstein.

  Wilder stared at him, stunned. "You truly care for that freakish woman?"

  Asher slid his jacket off and reached for another. "Of course. Clair is a lovely lady. She's a special lady who has quite taken my heart."

  Wilder scowled. "You're insane, that's what you are. She's a Frankenstein and would tell—"

  Asher interrupted and hurried him out of the room before Wilder could reveal who and what they were. Still, all in all, Asher patted himself on the back. He would have scored quite a few points in pursuit of Clair's seduction.

  Intrigued by what she'd heard Asher reveal, Clair nevertheless breathed a great sigh of relief when he left. Hurrying out of the room, Clair thanked her lucky stars. How embarrassing it would have been if Wilder had spotted her in the earl's boudoir. It would have been another humiliating scene to haunt her. The Honorable Christopher Wilder would have thought her a reprehensible Peeping Tom. Of course, he would have been wrong. She was merely a dedicated, hardworking scientist with an inquisitive mind.

  Still, Ian would have killed her if she'd been caught in Asher's room. No, she thought sarcastically, Asher would have killed her. Or it would have been a toss-up between the three men.

  And what was she supposed to do about Asher's feelings for her?

  Thirty minutes later, with the clock ticking, Clair finished her search of the earl's library. She knew Ian would be coming to her room soon. She barely had time to go back upstairs and get dressed.

  Shutting the desk drawer, Clair sighed with disappointment. So far her search had come up empty. She had found nothing but an old portrait of an ancestor of Asher's dressed in an outdated coat and floppy black pirate hat. He really was a handsome wolf. If she hadn't been in love with Ian, Clair really would be tempted to take a chance on the Wolfman. After all, she did love puppies.

  Just as she shut the drawer with a snap, Clair once again heard the unmistakable sound of Asher's voice. Panicking, she slipped underneath the huge cherry desk.

  Asher escorted Lady Montcrief inside his library, his sharp eye searching the room. Wearily, he shook his head. There. He'd spotted a flash of green peeking out from underneath his desk. Clair, again.

  "Asher, you are not paying attention to me," Lady Montcrief complained. She pressed herself against him, running her hands through his burnished chestnut locks. "Come, darling, let's play a bit."

  Yanking her hands from his hair, he forcefully turned the lusty lady around and escorted her back out the door. He gave no explanations, only shook his head at Lady Montcrief's antics. But outside he grinned, his white fangs sharp. Clair Frankenstein was like a dog with a very big bone. And she could chew on him anytime.

  Rhymes of the Ancient Predator

  "Humans, humans everywhere, and nary a drop to drink," Asher commented dryly to Ian as he surveyed the assembly of houseguests for his two-day party. The guests were scattered throughout the large music
room, each in some variety of activity. Some were playing cards at the far end of the chamber, some were gossiping in small groups, and a few of the ladies read while one played a soft tune on the pianoforte.

  The room was elaborately decorated in shades of pale wine and creamy white, with glistening wood paneling. Paintings done by Rubens and Rembrandt were interspersed among the bronze wall sconces. A thick Persian carpet was centered on the floor.

  Ian scanned the room with a quick glance. There were twenty-one guests, thirteen of them male and four married couples. "I see a few supernaturals interspersed."

  Asher waved a hand elegantly. "Too few. The humans here tonight are definitely in the majority."

  "It's lucky that the vampire high council put severe fines on those vampires who drain their victims dry."

  Asher nodded, his blue eyes frosty. "Yes. Discretion has saved us from being hunted down and destroyed like in the old days. Those were not pleasant for my kind." His eyes took on a faraway look. "To be hunted like rabid dogs by unwashed rabble…"

  "If the coffin fits," Ian suggested. Suddenly his attention was drawn by the lovely vision of Clair entering the room. His heart rate sped up and his breathing quickened.

  "You know far too much about us," Asher said, his tone irritated. Then, noticing the physical changes in Ian, Asher turned toward the door. He noted Clair. "Ah. So it's like that, is it? You've bedded her."

  Though his tone was politely contemptuous, his feelings were anything but. Asher was incensed at the thought of Clair in Ian's grip. Ian touching all that soft, white flesh, those pale graceful arms holding him. Ian being loved by Clair. A pang shot through Asher's heart and he felt a blood-red tear begin to form. Quickly he blinked, showing Ian no weakness. Clair was truly lost to him now. He wanted to lie down and die, except he was already dead.

  Asher's words had captured his attention, so with a glower Ian turned to face him. "Careful, Asher. I don't care what you are, but talk rudely about Clair and I will personally stake that black heart of yours."

  Asher raised his upper lip in scorn. "Calm yourself, Huntsley. I concede the point and the game. You have won the fair Clair, although you do not deserve her. She is too special for you. Or, for that matter, for even my grand personage. But it appears she has made her choice," the vampire went on his voice husky with an unrequited longing that would never be satisfied.

  He watched the way Clair was looking at Ian, love shining in her stormy gray eyes, and said, "Yes, you are a lucky man. But if you hurt her, you will answer to me!"

  Cocking his head, Ian studied his opponent. "A conscience, at this late date?"

  "It happens every hundred years or so. It seems we live not as we wish, but as we must."

  "I intend to marry her," Ian admitted.

  Asher looked surprised. "I heard you say once that you wouldn't get married until hell freezes over."

  "I guess I owe the devil a winter coat."

  Asher nodded, his eyes a glacial blue. "Has she said yes?" he asked. He felt morbidly curious as he observed Clair speaking with the Duke of Ghent and her aunt. She was a vision in her deep bronze gown of pale silk with tiny satin roses of green interspersed among the bodice and sleeves. Her hair was pulled into a sleek topknot with only a few curls left down to grace her face. The style showed off not only her delicate features but also the elegant lines of her neck. Asher felt his pulse quicken and the fiery rush of hunger.

  Ian snorted. "Not exactly." Then he smiled at Clair, his features fierce with pride and possession. "But she will."

  This time, Asher was the one who snorted. "You have your work cut out for you, Huntsley. That woman has a mind of her own."

  Ian shook his head. "What's mine, I keep. And make no mistake, come heaven or hell, Clair Frankenstein is mine."

  "A threat?" Asher's tone held both amusement and contempt.

  "You concede graciously?" Ian was shocked.

  Asher nodded. "I am many things, but not blind. She loves you. Not a particularly bright choice, I am thinking. Especially since she could have had my superior personage."

  "Well, I'll be bloody deuced and damned! You're in love with her too." Ian felt flabbergasted.

  "An unfortunate occurrence, I can assure you. It certainly wasn't in my plan."

  His mind spinning, his fists clenched, Ian glared at the master vampire who stood so tall, elegant, and handsome. He was furious that Asher loved Clair. Clair was his true love and his territory. But at the same time, Ian's common sense told him that Clair was safe from any threat from Asher or his nest. Asher would fight to the death to protect Clair, just as Ian himself would. "Then she is safe from all threats," he muttered, speaking his thoughts aloud.

  Arching an eyebrow, Asher glanced at Clair. "She is safe from all threats," he repeated. "However, I do reserve the right to wring her pretty neck if she doesn't stop snooping about the place. I have had a bloody hard time not stepping on her while she searched my house on her spy mission. She's like an albatross about my neck."

  Ian chuckled. "That's my girl. But have no fear. After she attends your ball tomorrow night and sees you hale and hearty on two legs—not on four and snarling at her—your problem is solved. She will admit she has been wrong in her deductions and leave you alone."

  "Alas, both a pleasure and a penance."

  Before Asher could say more, Lady Montcrief arrived, escorted by a reluctant Galen. Ian's cousin had seen Ian's stiff stance and realized by the tense expression on Asher's face that the conversation was one filled with danger. Galen had also deduced that the conversation was about Clair.

  Lady Montcrief, ignoring the volatile atmosphere, tapped her fan on Galen's arm and stopped before the earl and Ian. Her beauty was like that of a coral snake—shiny and colorful, but deadly to the touch, Galen saw. He watched her bat her eyes at both men, interrupting their conversation, and smiled greedily.

  "Such a luscious contrast. Night and day. Sin and sinful," she remarked, licking her lips and looking them both over like horses at Tattersalls. Then, turning toward Galen, she added, "And noon. You are the midday sun, all glorious in its splendor."

  Galen acknowledged her words with a brief tilt of his head, disliking the woman behind the obsequious comment.

  Ian stared stonily at her, wondering what he had ever seen in the blowsy brunette. He'd once had a brief affair with her. "If you'll excuse me now," he said, turning and leaving with his cousin at his side. He and Galen quickly crossed the room to where Clair was standing with Ozzie and Lady Mary.

  Asher was thinking much along the same lines as Ian and Galen, unbeknownst to Lady Montcrief. On and off, he and Jeanette Montcrief had enjoyed each other's charms for the past five years. A new addition to the nest, she had been a tasty distraction for a time. But the thrill was gone, the flame of attraction burned away to mere ashes.

  "I seem to have driven the rakish baron away," Lady Montcrief said, her eyes glaring with undisguised hatred at Ian.

  "Perhaps," Asher commented. He regarded Ian and Clair, Ian's possessive hand on the small of her back. "But I rather think he was running to something. In fact, I think he has been unknowingly looking for something to run to for years."

  Lady Montcrief sniffed disdainfully. "Whatever can he see in the chit? She's so common. Too pale in her looks and much too mannish in her studies."

  "Careful, Jeanette," Asher retorted coolly. "Your claws are showing."

  Lady Montcrief turned and placed a well-manicured hand on his arm. "I can scarcely wait for tonight. My body is throbbing for that big, delicious prick of yours to be buried deep inside me."

  Asher withdrew his arm from her grasping fingers and gave her a chilly smile. "The night's not done, and my desire is not yet settled on any one lady." He emphasized the last word.

  Lady Montcrief caught the insult and would have returned his icy contempt with a blistering setdown had the earl not glided so quickly away.

  Her face frozen in a mask of polite civility, she hurried over to a s
mall group of men. She motioned to Christopher Wilder with a discreet gesture, then started for the balcony. Wilder followed, a leer on his delicate, cruel features.

  He met her outside, his expression curious. "Well?"

  "Something must be done about that Frankenstein cow!" Lady Montcrief said without any preface.

  "Hmm. Yes, her." He paused deliberately. "Her udders are mouthwatering. I thought to try them myself. I wonder if Frankenstein blood is somehow different from other mortals'."

  "What utter rot! She's nothing! A pretentious little nobody who thinks she is smart," Lady Montcrief hissed, her catlike brownish yellow eyes turning a deep cherry red.

  Staring into her eyes, Wilder quipped, "And I thought green was the color of jealousy."

  "I am not jealous, you twit. I am merely concerned. She is dangerous to us all, poking that silly nose of hers into things better left alone. Though I grant she is not totally stupid. She could still stumble onto our secrets. Look how close she came to discovering what you and I were doing that night at your house. A few more minutes and my face would have been quite red."

  Studying her, he smiled lasciviously. "Yes. Her timing was most unlucky. I was quite overset about it. In fact, Asher and I have discussed the Frankenstein chit for that reason more than once. He, however, assures me that she will be no problem to our nest or race," he went on, his expression bland. He held his breath, waiting to see what Lady Montcrief would do. If he could get her to commit to the removal of the unwanted Clair, that would be all the better.

  "She must be gotten rid of as quickly as possible."

  Wilder shook his head, his blond curls jiggling. "Asher would be most displeased. Fatally displeased, I am afraid."

  Lady Montcrief drew in a sharp breath. "It hasn't gone that far, has it? He hasn't bedded the bitch yet."

  Wilder shrugged. "Who knows? You know how private Asher is when he chooses. But I agree, the girl has got to be disposed of in a manner not leading to our front door."

  "Tomorrow night," Lady Montcrief advised, calculating all the problems involved with draining and disposing of Clair's body.