by Brooklyn Ann
Praying she wasn’t blushing, she dared ask another question. “What do you know of massage?”
Wakley regarded her with a knowing smile. “The Eastern physicians have prescribed it for millennia and documented its effectiveness. Alas, our proper Western society is far too prudish to acknowledge such a treatment.” He winked. “It is quite effective on my wife, and I daresay you should have little trouble experimenting with it on a certain patient. I may even want to publish a portion of the results.”
Her blush deepened. “I shall have to keep that in mind.”
After Wakley departed, Cassandra rang for a bath, feeling a decadent thrill as she added scented oils. Afterward, Mrs. Smythe helped her dress in a sapphire tulle confection adorned with frothed lace and brushed her hair until it shined like burnished copper.
She glanced at the clock, eagerly awaiting Rafe’s return so she could begin.
The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut made her heart jolt with excitement. Rafe had returned.
It was time to start her seduction.
Eleven
Clayton bared his fangs at William, who had been cowering against the sideboard ever since he entered Clayton’s town house. “What do you mean, she refused to escape? How could you have possibly bungled matters so much that the chit would want to remain a willing prisoner?”
Damn it all, Lady Rosslyn’s escape would have further discredited Villar, as well as providing a handy place to set blame for Lenore’s disappearance. Of course, Clayton would not have allowed the countess to leave the city alive, but no one needed to know that.
William flinched. “I played my role exactly as you instructed me, word for word, I swear! But she insisted on remaining with Villar so she could study him.”
“What do you mean, study him?” Clayton narrowed his gaze on his incompetent lackey.
The other vampire shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know precisely. Most of what she says is in physician’s gibberish and somehow involves desecrating human remains. She even has a surgeon coming round to give her lessons in cutting up corpses.”
Physician’s gibberish…human remains… Clayton’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned. Rafe had told them all that the woman fancied herself a doctor. The memory of her pulling out a journal and quill played in his mind. It all made sense now.
Rounding on William, he snarled, “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Isn’t it obvious what she’s doing?”
The fool shook his head in confusion.
Clayton threw up his hands in frustration with such idiocy. “She’s trying to learn all of our secrets! She’s writing them down in a book, for Christ’s sake! And what does one do with a book? They share it! Blast it all, she’ll expose us to the world and have mobs pursuing us with stakes and torches, bent on exterminating our race!”
“Good God.” William gasped, eyes wide as saucers.
Clayton stroked his chin thoughtfully. “However, this is a good thing for us.”
“How so?” The lack-witted sod looked even more perplexed.
“We now have the perfect means to fully discredit Villar.” Clayton’s mind raced, savoring the possible outcomes…all in his favor. “Hell, if I notified the Elders now, they would execute them both.”
William grinned. “Well, that solves everything. Would you like me to fetch you parchment and quill so you may begin the missive?”
Clayton shook his head emphatically. “No, not yet. If the Elders arrive before I prove myself a competent leader, they may very well install a replacement of their own choosing.”
“So what do we do then?”
“Villar has less than a month before he must decide whether to kill or Change the countess, correct?”
“Yes.” William appeared pleased to have an answer for something at least.
“And a message can take up to a fortnight to reach the Elders’ motherhouse.” Clayton paced the length of the drawing room, running a hand through his hair. “A reply would take about the same time. Yet, I believe in this circumstance, they will either send a representative to see to the matter or perhaps even come here themselves, which could take anywhere between a sennight and mere days.”
William nodded in agreement, though his gaze was hazy with confusion again.
Clayton continued. “I think we should inform our people about the little countess’s dangerous book before bringing the Elders into this matter.”
Doubt filled the other vampire’s features. “You want to begin the revolt so soon?”
“In political matters, sometimes it is best to act quickly, before your opponent has the chance to prepare,” Clayton countered. “It is indeed time to set the wheels in motion. Tonight I want you to gather all our known allies, but first I need you to tend to my own prisoner.”
William’s expression of rapt interest dissolved into churlish reluctance. “What of my payment?”
Clayton rolled his eyes and withdrew a jeweled snuffbox from his breast pocket. The cloying stench of opium wafted out when he opened it. William licked his lips with longing. “Not until you feed Lenore.”
“Why can’t I have it now?” William whined.
“Because the effects of the drug will go straight from your blood to hers…” Clayton paused. “On second thought, perhaps that is not such a bad idea. It should make her more docile.” He handed over the opium.
William seized his drug greedily and withdrew his pipe.
“Not in here, you fool. Go out to the rear garden. I cannot abide the stench.”
The vampire scurried past him in a rush to feed his foolish addiction. When he returned, Clayton bade William to follow him down to the cellar.
Jovial laughter and the clatter of dice accompanied a moan of pain and clinking chains. The three rogue vampires looked up at Clayton and scrambled from their seats, their game forgotten.
Hamish, the leader, regarded him with feral intensity. “Have you another assignment for us, m’lord?”
A hot flood of pleasure rushed through Clayton at the title. Soon every blood drinker in London would address him so. “Not yet, though it seems I will be able to make my move sooner than anticipated.”
“That’s good to hear. Me and m’boys are growing bored.”
Clayton raised a brow. “Tired of being on the run already?”
“No, m’lord. It is just that—”
“It appears you’ve found a way to occupy yourselves.” He gestured toward Lenore’s huddled form.
The captive female gazed at him with burning fury as she jerked her heavy iron chains. Her enraged screams were muffled by a thick, leather ball gag. Clayton watched her futile efforts with satisfaction. An older vampire may have had the strength to break the shackles, but not Lenore. He had selected her because she was so young and weak. She was likely Changed by someone who hadn’t waited at least a century.
From the sight of her torn dress and flecks of dried blood painting her thighs, it was apparent that the rogues had taken their pleasure of her. More blood caked her nose, which had been broken and healed crooked.
Clayton rounded on his new recruits. “You should take care not to handle her so roughly. This means I’ll have to feed her more.”
The three rogues looked at the floor in poorly shammed remorse. “Sorry, m’lord.”
He sighed. “You may go hunt now. However, take care not to be seen again.”
As the vampires departed, he motioned William forward and carefully removed Lenore’s gag, which snagged on her fangs. Immediately, she growled at him.
“Tsk-tsk, show some respect, girl.” Clayton wagged a scolding finger.
Lenore hissed, blood dripping down her fangs from her abraded gums. “You will not go unpunished for this, Clayton. Your mad scheme will fail and Lord Villar will destroy you.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. My plan is pr
oceeding nicely.”
“You call this nice?” Her voice dripped with scorn. “You’re cracked!”
“I assure you, it is all for the greater good. You will see. When I am Lord of London—”
She shook her head. “I will never acknowledge you as Lord!”
Clayton leaned in close and spoke softly and dangerously. “I would think that over carefully, if I were you. If you have no intention of swearing fealty to me, then there is no sense in releasing you.”
Lenore froze at his words. For a moment he thought she would still contradict him, but then she clamped her mouth shut and glared mutinously.
“William will feed you now, and if you behave, I may just bring you a human later this week.”
Withdrawing his dagger, he sliced William’s wrist. Though she must be starving, Lenore averted her face as the vampire drew near.
Clayton pressed the tip of the dagger to her chin. “Do not make me force you.”
Just as the point of his blade drew a bead of crimson, Lenore complied, revulsion twisting her delicate features. The disgust quickly turned to reluctant pleasure as William’s blood flowed into her mouth. Greedily, she drank, taking in the sustenance she needed to heal her wounds.
The moment she finished feeding, Lenore lifted her head to stare at them both with such hatred that William staggered back.
“What you are doing is wrong and unworthy of a lord.” She pointed at Clayton, fingers twisted in the age-old gesture of a curse. “For this you will pay. Justice will be served and your bodiless head will roll in the dirt.”
Unease prickled Clayton’s body.
Thankfully, the opium in William’s blood took effect and Lenore slumped into unconsciousness.
* * *
Rafe stomped up the stairs to Cassandra’s laboratory. His arm continued to twitch, sending alternating needles of pain and numbness through his muscles. Clayton had noticed the spasms, and it was all Rafe could do not to send his healing fist crashing into his second-in-command’s smirking face.
The only thing that held him back was the incontrovertible instinct to keep his healing secret until he was whole and strong again. Anthony agreed completely, especially in light of the suspicious circumstances of Lenore’s disappearance.
When Rafe entered the laboratory, Cassandra’s gaze seemed more welcoming than analytical. A twinge of surprise tugged his chest at how happy he was to see her.
“Did you find the missing vampire?” she asked with genuine concern.
He shook his head and slumped down in the chair opposite hers by the fire. He lit a cigar and felt an unfamiliar pang of gratitude when she did not complain. “We searched the entire city. Lenore was nowhere to be found.”
He blew out a cloud of smoke with a sigh. The situation was much worse than that. The marks and gouges in the grass near Lenore’s resting place, as well as the report from one of her neighbors that rogues had been spotted in the area, indicated that she had been taken. As it would be difficult for a rogue to hide in his city with all the patrols he assigned, Rafe had to face the near certainty that Lenore was no longer in London. Even worse was the likelihood of the bastards returning and abducting more of his people.
“I need my arm back. You must perform another surgery. Anthony is willing.”
“No.”
The cool defiance of her tone made him blink. “What did you say?”
Cassandra lifted her chin and placed her hands on her hips. “I said no.” Looking like the goddess Athena about to deliver a divine edict, she continued. “Your muscle spasms are far too severe to risk surgery tonight. I do not want to take the chance of cutting the wrong tendon and hindering our progress. However, there are other treatments that I would like to try.”
As much as he wanted to argue, her logic was infallible. At least she offered an alternative. “Very well. When may we begin?”
“R-right now, if you’d care to put out your cigar.” Her hand shook as she held out a small silver tray she’d taken from his study.
Rafe raised a brow as he extinguished the cigar. “Do these new treatments involve you poking or prodding me?”
“Not at all.” She held out her hands to show that she held no instruments. Instead she held out a pipe. “Would you please smoke this?”
He took the pipe and frowned at the pungent green substance stuffed into the bowl. “This isn’t tobacco.”
“It is cannabis. The herb is used for treating headaches, sore eyes, and most importantly, muscle spasms.”
“And I am to smoke it?”
She nodded. “It could also be eaten or brewed into a tea, but with your unique digestion, I felt that this was the most efficient method of administration.”
Rafe shrugged and lit a match. “Well, you are the doctor.”
Praying that this “treatment” wouldn’t make him ill, he lit the plant and sucked on the pipe. The taste was unfamiliar though not unpleasant. It was much harder than inhaling tobacco and made him cough when he exhaled. However, he felt an immediate sensation of being lighter, as if an invisible weight had been lifted from the top of his skull.
The second draw went easier as Rafe held the smoke in his lungs and exhaled slowly. The damned herb would not remain lit. He cursed as the match nearly burned his fingers before he lit another. By the time the cannabis was reduced to an oily lump of black ash, his muscles had become pleasantly heavy and relaxed.
“How do you feel?” Cassandra’s voice came from far away, like a whisper from heaven.
“Quite good, actually.” His voice sounded as surprised as he felt. His foul mood had completely abated. “I hope your next treatment is as pleasant.”
“I hope you think so.” Her cheeks turned crimson as she continued. “You will, ah, have to remove your shirt.”
Her unexpected coyness delighted him. When he unfastened the buttons and shrugged out of his shirt, her quick intake of breath intrigued him further. Cassandra’s gaze swept his bare chest with tangible intensity.
Rafe’s mouth went dry as she slowly reached out to grasp his bad arm.
“I believe that if I work the muscles manually, the tension will loosen and they will begin to function as they should.” Her tone remained clinical but held a shy tremor that he found endearing. “And I think this will ameliorate your pain.”
Too bad she’d hidden her face behind her tumble of burnished curls. Rafe blinked, suddenly realizing that she’d never worn her hair down in her lab before. It was all he could do not to reach up and caress the tendrils. He observed her closer. Her gown was fancier as well, the blue taffeta revealing far more of her bosom than the peach muslin she’d worn earlier.
His musing ceased as her soft, warm hands wrapped around his bicep and applied the most delicious pressure. Rafe couldn’t hold back a groan of pleasure.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked worriedly.
“Dios, no. Do not stop.” Despite her innocent touch, he found himself hardening.
Cassandra resumed her heavenly ministrations, transporting him to a realm of bliss. As she kneaded the sore, stiff muscles, the agonizing tension loosened. Rafe threw back his head and closed his eyes.
“You are a miracle worker, Querida,” he murmured.
“Nonsense, I merely gathered the knowledge from books and Wakley’s teachings and successfully applied it.”
Rafe chuckled and looked up at her. “It amuses me how you continue to shy away from the fantastical despite all you’ve been through recently.”
“The existence of vampires does not negate science,” she countered, blatantly avoiding his gaze.
He was about to counter that science wasn’t everything, but then he paused as realization dawned. Cassandra’s fixation on cold logic was likely because she lost her parents in such painful circumstances. She’d never known a miracle, only tragedy. An ache bloomed in his hea
rt.
“My mother also died when I was young,” he said quietly.
She paused in her rubbing to place her warm hand on his, her voice soft with compassion. “What was she like?”
“Strong and beautiful. Or so my father told me. He was a conquistador, sent to subdue the ‘savages’ in the Americas and bring gold to the king of Spain. When he met my mother, it was she who conquered him.” He smiled ruefully, surprised at how the story still affected him after all these centuries. “She died of smallpox shortly after I was born, along with the majority of her tribe. Grief stricken, my father brought me back to Spain.”
Cassandra’s eyes glittered with aching sympathy. “So you never knew her. How tragic.”
He shrugged, trying to sound indifferent. “Perhaps it is best that way. I imagine I would have missed her more, had I knew her.”
She remained silent for a long time, rubbing his shoulder with blissful, rhythmic pressure. “Well, I understand where you inherited your exotic coloring.”
Rafe smiled at her attempt to cheer the mood. “Yes, my grandmother called me her ‘little savage’ due to my looks and my temper. Eventually the term became an endearment.”
“Ah, so you’ve always been volatile?” Cassandra teased. “Somehow that does not surprise me.” She removed her hands and stretched. Her knuckles cracked loudly in the peaceful quiet of the lab.
He frowned in concern. “I think you’ve done enough for the evening. I don’t want you wearing yourself to the bone.”
She nodded. “All right. How do you feel now?”
Rafe extended his arm and flexed his fingers. “The pain is much abated and the stiffness has all but vanished. My mouth feels very dry, but I think that is from the drug…” He eyed her delicious pulse on her throat. Or my craving for you.
“I am pleased to hear my treatment is effective.” She grabbed a leather ball the size of a billiard ball and handed it to him. “Now I want you to squeeze this repeatedly every night to exercise and strengthen your fingers.”
He frowned, resenting the return of her cool, practical demeanor. “Very well.”
