My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(43)

Oddly, however, he felt nothing but a warm flood of joy at the shimmering golden threads of love that firmly tied him to this woman.

"I know, Jocelyn, and you know," he said in tones that defied argument. "Deep within you.

You can sense what is in my very soul."

She gave a shake of her head, but there was a hint of uncertainty that flashed through her eyes. He was well aware that the Medallion had given her the power to perceive well beyond her human capabilities.

"That is not possible."

"The Medallion has made it possible," he murmured.

"How?"

He gave careful thought to his words. The last thing he desired was to give her yet another thing to worry over.

"It has altered you," he at last admitted slowly. "You feel things more. You are more sharply aware of your surroundings and able to sense the emotions of others. It is a rare gift for a human."

Thankfully her expression did not tighten with fear. Instead, her full, tempting lips twisted in a rueful fashion.

"If that is true, then why did it not warn me you were a vampire?"

His hand shifted to lightly cup her soft cheek. "But it did. You just chose to ignore what your heart whispered."

"Yes." She heaved a faint sigh. "So once again I was the fool."

Lucien gave an impatient click of his tongue. Clearly she was determined to hold on to her sense of betrayal. At least for the time. He did not entirely blame her, but he did not possess the luxury of indulging her wounded sensibilities. Not while Amadeus continued to lurk in the shadows.

"Jocelyn, I know that you are angry with me, but you must hear what I have to tell you," he said in stern tones.

With a shake of her head she was pulling from his grasp. "I cannot. Not tonight."

He frowned in concern. "You are in danger. The traitors will do whatever they must to gain command of the Medallion."

"Please, Lucien." She held up a hand that visibly trembled. "I can bear no more."

She spoke the truth. Even from a distance he could sense she was holding on by a fragile thread. If he pressed any further, she might shatter beneath the strain and panic. He could not allow her to lose her reason. Not when he had no notion what she might do.

"I am sorry," he said in low tones. "My last desire was to have you hurt by me."

She pressed her hands to her bosom, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "We will talk in the morning."

"Yes." He gave a slow nod. "Good night, my dove."

"Good night."

Lucien watched in silence as she unsteadily made her way from the room. His hands clenched at his sides as he battled his instinctive urge to keep her close to him. He did not want her out of his sight. Not when she was so clearly upset.

What if she bolted during the night?

What if she decided that he was crazed and called for help from Bow Street?

What if she decided to rid herself of the troublesome Medallion and bring an end to her danger?

What if...

The potential for disaster swirled through his mind, but he made no move to follow Jocelyn.

She had promised that they would speak in the morning, and he had to trust her. He owed her that at least.

Instead, he moved to pour himself a measure of the fine brandy. The past half hour had proven to be the most difficult he had ever endured. Not only the realization that he had deeply wounded Jocelyn, but the knowledge that he might have irretrievably destroyed any hope of a future.

With a jerky motion he sipped the smoky spirit, his features stark. Great Nefri. When had he started considering a future with Jocelyn?

Was it when she had confessed her painful rift from her parents? When she had taken him to meet the young maidens she had helped to leave the streets? When he had witnessed her kindness to the poor children in the warehouse? When his lips had first touched her own?

Perhaps it had been the moment he had first entered the house and caught sight of those proud, wounded blue eyes of hers.

Whenever it had occurred, he was a fool.

He had come here to protect her. And more important, to ensure that the traitors did not lay claim to the Medallion.

Those should be his only thoughts until Amadeus was returned behind the Veil and Jocelyn was safe. Everything else would be a distraction that might very well prove to be disastrous.

For all vampires.

Polishing off the last of the brandy, he set the glass aside and moved to extinguish the candles. He had no need of light to keep careful watch through the night, and he knew that Meg would remain awake until she was certain that both he and Jocelyn had sought their beds. She was a servant from the old school, and no one could convince her that a nobly born person could possibly recall locking the door or properly putting out the fires.

Moving silently into the hall, he crossed to climb the narrow stairs that would lead to the small garret. He had discovered that his window offered a fine view of the streets, and it was the most reasonable spot to keep guard over the household. And it also allowed him to give some rest to his earthly form.

With his wits distracted by thoughts of Jocelyn, he had reached the door to his chamber, when he belatedly realized there was a faint scent in the air that could come from only one source.

Instantly on the alert, Lucien slipped the dagger from beneath his coat and held it firmly in his hand. A vampire was near. And he could think of only one vampire who would be awaiting him in the garret.