My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues)

by Alexandra Ivy

  “I can discover any information you might desire.”

  “No.”

  “Why?” The elegant features hardened with impatience. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

  Her eyes darkened with an unconscious vulnerability. “Because I learned long ago that I cannot hide from unpleasantness. To cower in fear behind closed doors is no life. I would rather confront my fears, and even danger, face-to-face.” She reached out to place her hand upon his arm. “Lucien, I will not live in a prison of my own making.”

  An oddly arrested expression settled upon his countenance. Almost as if her words had reached deep within him. Then he offered her a wry smile.

  “I cannot help but desire to protect you, Jocelyn. It is simply in my nature.”

  Her fingers tightened upon his arm. Surprisingly she discovered that she was far from offended by his confession. Instead, a warm glow threatened to fill her heart.

  “Yes, I know,” she said softly.

  His lips twisted. “You are determined upon this?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will not leave my side?”

  Her brows lifted at his commanding tone. Now he was going too far.

  “I have been caring for myself a long time, sir. I no longer depend upon others when I am perfectly capable of seeing to my own needs. It is, in fact, how I prefer my life.”

  Without warning, his hand shifted to cup her chin in a gentle grasp. “Stubborn.”

  She grimly ignored the flare of pleasure that tingled through her. It would be all too easy to become addicted to his touch.

  “Strong-willed,” she corrected him.

  His soft chuckle filled the foyer. “Is there a difference?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you say,” he murmured, his fingers slowly moving to trace the firm line of her jaw.

  The danger in the air shimmered with a sudden heat. “I . . . we should be on our way,” she whispered.

  His eyes swept over her flushed countenance, lingering for a tantalizing moment upon her unsteady lips.

  “You are always eager to be hurrying away when things become interesting.”

  Interesting?

  Perilously insane, more likely.

  “Interesting for you, perhaps,” she forced herself to retort.

  “I think for the both of us if you would just lower Kd jhers whenyour guard.”

  “My guard is staying precisely where it is,” she warned in what she hoped were firm tones. “You might as well resign yourself to that fact.”

  He gave a shake of his head, the tawny hair that framed his lean countenance shimmering in the candlelight.

  “Never,” he swore softly. “I will wait all eternity if need be.”

  “An eternity?”

  “Yes.”

  Her breath once again became elusive. “You are being absurd. Let us go.”

  His fingers searched along the curve of her neck, slowly testing the softness of her skin.

  “You cannot run from me forever, Jocelyn,” he warned in husky tones.

  It took far more effort than she cared to admit to abruptly thrust away from the wall and step from his tempting nearness. She felt bewitched, and not at all herself.

  In an effort to disguise her odd trembling, Jocelyn made a great show of smoothing her plain gray gown and ensuring her expression was calm.

  “I can run an eternity if need be,” she retorted in thankfully steady tones.

  He smiled ruefully at her swift retreat, although a shimmer of determination remained in the golden eyes.

  “Ah, no, that I will not allow,” he warned as he moved to place her hand upon his arm and escorted her out the door and down the steps to the darkened street. “Where shall we go first?”

  “To the warehouse,” she said, having made her decision earlier in the day. “I wish to ensure the children are safe.”

  Lucien gave an understanding nod before stepping forward and at last hailing a passing hack. They rode in silence as they made their way the handful of blocks to the derelict warehouse. Jocelyn was soon lost in her concern for the children and women who were forced to sell themselves upon the streets. They were unfortunately vulnerable and all too often the victims of violence. A violence they possessed few means to oppose. Her distraction, however, was ruthlessly pierced as they moved closer and closer to the warehouse. A shiver raced through her as she felt an odd prickle of evil crawl over her skin.

  It was ridiculous, she attempted to tell herself. One could not feel evil. And yet, her fingers instinctively reached up to touch the amulet around her neck, as if it were offering her a warning she should not ignore.

  The sensation only grew stronger as the hack halted in the shadows of the warehouse. With a stiff reluctance she forced herself to accept Lucien’s help in alighting, then moved toward the narrow door. Much to her astonishment, she discovered it already open. A frown marred her forehead. The children were wise enough never to leave the door unattended.

  “Thomas?” she called softly.

  In a heartbeat Lucien had firmly grasped her arm, the moonlight glinting off the dagger he held in his hand.

  “Wait here a moment,” he commanded, his features oddly grim.

  “No, Lucien. I will not be left behind.”

  Just for a moment he appeared poised to argue. It was obvious that he desired to keep her tucked away from danger. Then, noting her determined expression, he gave a resigned shake of his head.

  “Very well,” he conceded, “but remain behind me.” With a startling graceful movement Lucien slipped through the door, leaving Jocelyn to follow behind. She was careful to keep close, still bothered by K boVery well,that ominous sense of dread. Ridiculous or not, it could not be shaken.

  They had managed to enter the cavernous room and take several steps forward, when the familiar form of Thomas abruptly stepped in their path.

  “’Ere, now. It be Miss Kingly’s gentleman.”

  Lucien came to a smooth halt. “Good evening, Thomas. Is all well?”

  An unexpected grin split the dirty, angular countenance. “I’d say. A bloke came earlier with a whole cartload of food.”

  “What bloke?” Jocelyn demanded, stepping from behind Lucien with a startled frown. For months she had been caring for these children, and never to her knowledge had another shown the slightest interest in their welfare.

  “Oh, Miss Kingly.” Thomas gave a cocky bow. “Evening to you.”

  Jocelyn’s frown did not ease. “Who brought you the food, Thomas?”

  The lad lifted a bony shoulder as he waved his hand toward a distant corner.

  “He is over with Freddie.”

  Turning her head, Jocelyn slowly stiffened as she recognized the thin, balding man attired in black.

  “Vicar Fallow,” she breathed.

  Almost as if hearing her soft words, the vicar slowly turned and regarded her from across the room. Even at such a distance the pale eyes seemed to chill her deep within. They glittered in the darkness with an unholy light, sending a rash of prickles over her skin.

  Then she was sternly chastising her absurd fancy.

  This gentleman had revealed nothing but generous kindness. First by chasing off the villains who had attacked her in the street, and now tonight, by offering starving children a much-needed meal.

  She should be delighted with his appearance at the warehouse, not shuddering with distaste.

  Keeping that thought firmly in mind, Jocelyn managed to conjure a smile as the vicar hurried across the floor to offer her a faint bow.

  “Miss Kingly.”

  “Vicar,” she murmured. “It was most kind of you to bring food to the children.”

  He moved his hands to his bony chest in a modest gesture. “I fear it is not much.”

  Jocelyn glanced to where the children greedily gorged themselves upon the large platters of food.

  “It is far more than they had before.”

  “Perhaps.” The vicar waited until Jocelyn retur
ned her gaze to his thin countenance. “I only wish it were possible to take them away from such squalor. They should have homes with loving families.”

  “We can do only what is in our power.”

  “That is true, my dear.” He heaved a deep sigh. “Still, I worry for their safety. It is said another maiden was killed this evening.”

  Jocelyn felt the blood drain from her face. No. This could not be happening. Not another poor, wretched maiden.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  “Terrible, is it not?” Vicar Fallow murmured, reaching out to pat her arm lightly. “A beast walks the streets of London. It is said he hunts someone or something.”

  Something?

  Unconsciously stepping away from his distasteful touch, Jocelyn lifted a hand to the amulet about her neck.

  What was happening?

  And why?

  “I . . .”

  “Jocelyn.” Abruptly appearing at her side, Lucien wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. “There is no need to linger. The children are fed this night.”

  Shaken by the revelation of yet another murder, Jocelyn readily allowed Lucien to lend her support. The familiar scent of his male warmth shrouded her in a sense of well-being.

  “Yes.”

  The gaunt countenance of Vicar Fallow hardened at the arrival of Lucien, but the thin smile remained intact as he regarded the shaken Jocelyn.

  “Miss Kingly, do not forget that I stand ready to be of assistance if ever you should need me.”

  She felt Lucien’s arm tighten about her shoulder as she gave a vague nod of her head. Clearly the two gentlemen had taken a swift dislike of each other.

  “Thank you, Vicar.”

  “Come, Jocelyn,” Lucien urged, turning her around and leading her from the warehouse.

  Jocelyn made no demur. She wanted to be away from the warehouse, and even the dangerous streets of St. Giles.

  A beast did, indeed, seem to be walking the streets of London, and she very much feared he was stalking her.

  Lucien cursed himself for a fool as he carefully bundled Jocelyn in the waiting hack and then settled himself close to her side.

  He should have insisted that she not enter the warehouse. He had sensed before they had even arrived that Amadeus would be waiting. But he had assured himself that while he was near, the traitor could do nothing to harm the maiden. And that it was important he discover precisely what Amadeus was plotting.

  Besides, he had been touched by her plea to face her life without the walls of a prison, he ruefully acknowledged.

  Although life behind the Veil offered eternal peace and prosperity for vampires, he had discovered a growing resentment at being confined over the past two centuries. He did not want a tidy existence that provided for his every need. He longed for the unpredictable, for confronting a day with no notion of what might occur. Like Jocelyn, he desired to confront the delights, pains, and passions life had to offer in the fullest.

  And so he had ignored his good sense and allowed Jocelyn to accompany him into the dark streets. Now he could only wonder if he had made a dreadful mistake.

  Wrapping his arms about her, he leaned his head against her satin hair.

  “You are very quiet,” he murmured.

  “Vicar Fallow said that another maiden was murdered.”

  He grimaced, wondering if he should confess that it was Vicar Fallow himself who had committed the atrocity. It would certainly ensure that she never trusted the renegade. But it would also raise endless questions that Lucien was not yet prepared to answer.

  How could he confess that Amadeus was a vampire without exposing himself?

  And how could he possibly protect Jocelyn if she feared him as a monster?

  “I am sorry,” he said gently.

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  Lost in the sweet scent and heat of her, Lucien discovered himself caught off guard by her sudden question.

  width="ˀ“What do you mean?”

  “First there was Molly, who had a paper with my name in her hand, and then, last night, those horrid men left that note warning others would be killed.”

  Lucien tucked her closer, briefly wishing that Nefri had chosen any other maiden but this one to bind with the Medallion. He did not want Jocelyn in danger. He did not want to hear that edge of fear in her voice. And most of all, he did not want to know that Amadeus was always skulking in the shadows, waiting to do whatever necessary to gain command of the artifact.

  “I truly do not know, my dove,” he retorted in rueful honesty. If only he knew what Amadeus plotted, he would feel considerably more confident in his skill to protect her.

  She gave a shake of her head. “It makes no sense.”

  “At the moment I fear I must agree. I do promise, however, that I will discover what the demon is plotting.”

  Without warning she pulled back to regard him with a worried frown.

  “You will not put yourself in danger?” she demanded.

  He slowly smiled at the genuine anxiety etched upon her beautiful countenance. Jocelyn may not yet accept the fact that an unmistakable affection was growing between them, but it was there whatever her determination to keep him at arm’s length.

  “No more danger than necessary,” he assured her.

  In the shadows her magnificent eyes suddenly flashed with an unmistakable fire.

  “Lucien.”

  He laughed softly at her chiding tones, firmly pulling her back into his arms and pressing her head to his chest. It felt astonishingly wonderful to hold her close.

  There was a silent pause before she heaved a soft sigh. “Why is this happening?”

  He glanced out the window of the carriage to view the filthy streets lined with desperate, hungry people. How easy it would be to whisk Jocelyn away from all of this and provide her with the beauty and luxury she deserved. But that would not keep her safe from the traitors, and he was far from certain that she desired to leave those poor souls who depended upon her.

  It appeared for the moment he could only offer support.

  “Jocelyn, you are a strong woman. Strong enough to face this danger and survive.”

  He felt her shiver. “How can you be so certain?”

  Determined to lighten the dark mood that was threatening to overwhelm her, Lucien deliberately tilted her chin up so that he could smile deep into her troubled eyes.

  “Because I am not only handsome, charming, and witty, I am also quite perceptive. I no doubt already know you better than you know yourself.”

  Thankfully the tightness of her features lessened and a hint of amusement glinted to life within her eyes.

  “You, sir, are impossible.”

  “And charming and handsome and witty,” he added, bending slowly forward to softly brush those tempting lips with his own.

  For one delicious heartbeat she allowed his mouth to linger. Then, with a near-tangible reluctance, she pulled back to regard him with a faint frown.

  “You can make no claim of winning any kisses on this night, Lucien,” she pointed out in unsteady tones. “There were no wagers or forfeits to be paid.”

  “Shall I admit that I simply could not resist?”

  She opened her mouth to deliver a pert retort, but thankfully the hack drew to a shuddering halt and Lucien was swift to slip out of the door and help her onto the street. She did manage a jaundiced glance as she swept past him and toward the house, but it did not entirely hide the color that stained her cheeks.

  Ridding himself of the impatient driver, Lucien strolled up the path to join her as she opened the door and entered the foyer. She was clearly eager to be away from his presence, but with a firm motion he reached up to grasp her arm.

  “Hold a moment, Jocelyn. I wish to ensure your chamber is safe.”

  Her lips thinned at his commanding tone, but as if sensing he would not be pressed upon this issue, she gave a slow nod of her head.

  “Very well.”

  “Wait
here.”

  With a last glance toward Jocelyn, Lucien turned and slipped through the dark silence. Although he could feel no threat in the air, he was not about to make any mistakes on this night. Jocelyn had been frightened enough. He was uncertain even her staunch courage could cope with another unpleasant surprise.

  It did not take long to search through the upper chambers, and certain that Amadeus had no further traps devised, Lucien returned down the stairs and took Jocelyn’s hands in his own.

  “All is well,” he assured her softly.

  In the light of the candle that had been left by Meg, Jocelyn’s features appeared remarkably fragile. Lucien caught his breath, mesmerized by her beauty.

  “Then I shall wish you a good night,” she retorted.

  His hands briefly tightened upon her fingers, desperately wanting to prolong this moment. Only the shadows lingering in her dark eyes kept him from pulling her into his arms and covering her lips with his own.

  She was far too vulnerable this evening. He would not take advantage while she was defenseless.

  “Sweet dreams, my dove,” he murmured, reaching down to brush his mouth over her troubled brow before stepping back to allow her to leave.

  She hesitated only a moment before she was moving through the foyer and up the stairs. He stood silently until he was certain she was in her chambers, then he turned to make his way down the hall.

  He knew precisely what he would discover in the small kitchen at the back of the house.

  Stepping into the cramped room, his gaze swiftly fell upon the large, dour-faced woman seated at the table with a heavy frying pan in her hands.

  With his lips twitching in amusement, Lucien strolled to stand beside the table. “Ah, Meg. I thought I would find you still awake.”

  The woman regarded him with an aggressive frown that would have frightened a hapless thief into an early grave.

  “I won’t be having any more of them villains bothering Miss Jocelyn.”

  “She is safely in her chambers,” he reassured the loyal servant.

  “I warned her there would be nothing but trouble living in such a place,” Meg muttered in disgust. “Perhaps now she will listen to reason.”