Midnight's Daughter(70)

I sat up. “I’ve been called a dirty half-breed myself on more than one occasion.”

Caedmon didn’t reply. In fact, I doubt he even heard me. I looked down and realized that the sheet that had been covering me had slipped when I moved, and that I was currently providing him with a free show. I snatched up the coverlet and his expression tilted perilously close to a grin. I suppose gold velvet wasn’t particularly off-putting.

“I appreciate the thought, but adornment is not needed. Bare skin will do admirably.” He carelessly let his robe drop and turned in a full circle, hands outspread. He not only hadn’t overdressed; he hadn’t dressed at all. “Many strange things are said about us,” he continued, “but most are quite exaggerated. For instance, the Norse believe all Fey to have a flaw somewhere on their person, a mar to their beauty. Fey women are even said to be hollow, with a beautiful frontal appearance but no backs!”

In the dim light, he burned like a pale flame, his hair a flowing nimbus around his head. And if his body had a flaw, I didn’t see it. “Nici un lucru s? nu crezi, cu ochii pan? nu vezi.” The liquid syllables fell with ease from his lips.

My mind was busy with other things, so it took me a moment to realize what I’d heard. Seeing certainly was believing in his case, but that wasn’t the point. “I thought you didn’t understand Romanian.”

Caedmon sat on the side of the bed, naked and gloriously aroused. “In a life as long as mine, one picks up a great deal of esoteric knowledge.”

“You read the note.”

He looked slightly surprised. “Of course. Wouldn’t you? But obviously I could say nothing around the vampire.”

“Louis-Cesare? He’s all right,” I said absently. Caedmon had started stroking my leg through the coverlet, and it was distracting.

“Then you have told him of the ultimatum?” He saw my expression. “No, I did not think so. I do not trust him, either.”

“Why not? You just met him.”

“He’s a vampire, and others of his kind have been causing considerable trouble at home of late. It is possible that they are behind the current unrest, encouraging those who should know better to try for honors above their station.”

This suddenly didn’t sound like a seduction attempt anymore, despite the hand on my thigh. “Why are you really here, Caedmon?”

He tried to lift the coverlet, and I slapped a hand down on it. He grinned, unrepentant. “I told you. I have never before had a dhampir—I quite look forward to it. And afterward we can discuss our mutual problem.”

“Let’s discuss it now.”

He laughed. I seemed to be providing him with a lot of entertainment. I hoped he enjoyed it, because it was all he was going to get. After my emotional roller coaster of a day, I was in no mood for games. Especially not with a strange Fey.

“But I think much better after—”

“Caedmon!”

He sighed and lay back, spilling a waterfall of pale hair over the bed and providing the moonlight with a very attractive playground. I could swear the beams seemed to bend a little around him, as if trying to touch as much of that opalescent skin as possible. “We have common cause: we both want the girl,” he informed me. “You to save her from this rogue vampire, and I to discover whether or not she carries the heir.”

“And if she does?”

“I will see to her safety. You have my word.” That should have been laughable—for all I knew, Caedmon was here to kill Claire, not to save her. Not to mention that I never take anyone at his word, much less a very strange stranger. But when Caedmon said it, the hoary old line took on dignity and weight. I found myself oddly reassured, and it pissed me off.

“Won’t it be a little difficult to guard her in New York?”

Caedmon sent me an old look. “I will not endanger all of Faerie for one woman’s convenience, as you surely must know. But do not be alarmed.” He stroked my side as if I were a flustered pet. “It may not be an issue. Perhaps there is no pregnancy at all, or possibly the child is female. Then your friend may stay where she likes.”

“What, women don’t rule Faerie?”

“Certainly not.” He feigned shock. “Or, rather, not in the civilized areas. The Alorestri presently have a female leader—terrible woman—but they have always been unorthodox. It comes from living so near the border, practically side by side with the Dark. They need every pair of hands for defense, and once women are warriors, it is difficult to keep them out of politics.”

“How distressing for you.”

Caedmon smiled. “Oh, I like strong women, Dorina.” I hadn’t seen the hand that had wormed its way under the covers, but I felt it when it slid up my calf. “In fact, I prefer them.”

I reached under my pillow. “And precisely how can you help me?”

He eyed me in amusement. “Refrain from stabbing me and I will tell you.”

I let go of the weapon, but kept it near to hand. Caedmon noticed, but didn’t appear worried. “You are in a difficult situation, little one. If you are to get back your friend, you must give this Dracula the lives of two others whom you esteem. Either that or risk attacking him and possibly losing her nevertheless. Is my summary accurate?”

“Close enough.” He didn’t get any kudos for that; he’d had enough clues from the letter. “What do you propose to do about it?”