My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(4)

"The rooms have been cleaned and prepared," she forced herself to admit. "You may have them whenever you desire."

"Good. I will collect my belongings and be here later this afternoon."

This afternoon.

She absolutely refused to shiver again.

"What of your cousin?" she demanded. "Will he not shoot you when you return for your belongings?"

"I have it on excellent authority that he devoted the goodly portion of the evening to his current mistress. It will be several hours before he awakens."

She unconsciously grimaced. "I see."

An odd hint of satisfaction touched the handsome countenance. "You disapprove of such pleasurable pastimes, Miss Kingly?"

Jocelyn was swift to smooth her features to calm indifference. "I do not possess sufficient interest to disapprove, Mr. Valin."

His lips twisted wryly. "No, of course not."

Having strained her nerves quite far enough for one morning, Jocelyn rose to her feet.

"I believe we have covered everything, Mr. Valin."

Efficiently dismissed, the tawny-haired gentleman reluctantly pushed himself from his chair.

"I shall return in a few hours," he was swift to warn.

Jocelyn, however, was prepared on this occasion.

"If you have need of anything, please speak with Meg. She is quite capable and is in full control of the household."

The golden eyes narrowed as she easily maneuvered him firmly into the hands of her servant.

"More capable than you, Miss Kingly?" he demanded in those husky tones.

"Without a doubt." With a crisp nod of her head she regained her seat and reached for her ledger book. "Good-bye, Mr. Valin."

He remained standing beside the desk, but as she kept her gaze upon the pages of her accounts, he at last gave a low chuckle.

"Until later, my dear."

Jocelyn maintained her charade of distraction until she at last heard the sound of the door closing behind his retreating form. Only then did she lean back in her seat and close her eyes in an odd weariness.

There would be dinner on the table tonight.

But what was the cost?

And was she prepared to pay it?

The kitchen was surprisingly clean and filled with the delicious aroma of fresh-baked bread and drying herbs.

Seated at the scrubbed table, Lucien leaned back with a deep sigh.

His surroundings could hardly compare with Gideon's vast town house or even the elegant hotel he had chosen upon his arrival in London. The house might be tidy with sturdy furnishings, but there was no ignoring the neighborhood was a breath from utter decay and that the air was rancid with the stench of rotting trash and sewer.

Still, he was not overly disappointed that his trail had led him to this narrow house in the shabby cul-de-sac. His rooms might be cramped and his delicate senses offended by the derelict surroundings, but it all became meaningless the moment he had stepped into the small study.

Even now he could feel the shock of utter bewitchment when he had beheld Miss Kingly.

She had quite simply stolen his breath.

Her face was a perfect oval with large eyes the impossible blue of tropical waters. Her hair, which had been ruthlessly wrenched into a knot at the base of her neck, possessed the rich luster of sable that contrasted sharply with the flawless cream of her skin. She possessed the timeless beauty of a Madonna, with lush curves that could make a man's thoughts stray in dangerous directions.

As a collector of beautiful objects, he had been stirred by her loveliness.

As a vampire with his passions unleashed for the first time in two centuries, other parts of his anatomy had been stirred.

Just for a moment he had briefly considered how swiftly he could woo her into his bed. How magnificent she would be stretched upon snowy white sheets, her hair a river of ebony, he had thought with a decided yearning. In the candlelight her skin would glow with the pale luster of fine porcelain. Her lush curves would fit his hands to perfection. Ah, to possess such a woman would surely bring untold pleasure.

But even as his blood had tingled with anticipation, he had gazed into those well -guarded eyes and sensed the bleak loneliness deep within.

His calculated passion had died with a regretful sigh.

This woman was not in need of a lover.

She was in need of a savior.

The knowledge had been as unwelcome as the stench of the nearby slaughterhouse, and just as inescapable.

He was here to protect this maiden.

He could only hope his rusty sense of chivalry could be persuaded to overcome the lust that even now swirled through his blood.

Pushing back his plate, he cast a roguish smile toward the undoubted general of the household. The servant was a large woman with iron-gray hair and features cast in granite. He could only hope her heart was not similarly unyielding.

"Exquisite, my dear Meg," he complimented her. "As savory as any I have ever tasted. A true masterpiece."

The charm he had once presumed irresistible appeared woefully ineffective. As woefully ineffective upon the servant as it had been upon her mistress.

"'Tis shepherd's pie, hardly a masterpiece."

"Ah, but in the hands of an artist even shepherd's pie can be a masterpiece. And you are, indeed, an artist."

If anything, the woman regarded him with even sharper suspicion. "Miss Jocelyn warned me you possessed the silver tongue of the devil. I now understand why."