My Lord Immortality (Immortal Rogues #3)(8)

"And will giving it a name make it any less dangerous?" he asked in low tones. "Will your fear be abandoned and your heart lightened? Man or beast, it is a thing to be avoided."

Not surprisingly, she appeared far from satisfied by his vague response. "I think you know more than you are willing to admit."

"Perhaps."

She studied him in exasperation before at last heaving a sigh. It was obvious that she sensed his adamant refusal to reveal anything more.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

His lips twitched at her unmistakable annoyance. She was not a maiden often thwarted. It did not suit her to be anything but in command of every situation.

"Such a fascination with names," he murmured.

Her nose tilted upward at his teasing, but he did not miss the sudden glint of humor in the dark eyes.

"It is only proper manners to offer an introduction. We have now spoken on two separate occasions."

"Ah well, naturally I must bow to the pressures of proper manners." Before she could guess his intention, he had reached out to grasp her hand and lifted her bare fingers to his lips. Her skin was soft as satin beneath his touch, and Sebastian found his mouth lingering as he breathed deeply of her feminine fragrance. Strange that he had forgotten the sheer pleasure of touching a young woman, he thought inanely. Or perhaps it was simply this young woman who awoke his long-buried passions. His blood stirred even as he forced himself to loosen his grip and take a step back. There was danger in such sensations. "I am Mr. Sebastian St. Ives. And you are?"

"Miss Hadwell," she retorted absently, her gaze straying to her fingers before lifting her gaze with a faint blush.

He refused to consider her flustered reaction to his touch. He was a scholar, he staunchly reminded himself. And for the moment, a reluctant guardian of this maiden.

"A pleasure, Miss Hadwell."

"You ..." She paused to suck in a deep breath. "You are not from London?"

"No. Indeed, I have only recently arrived." He paused to glance about the rubbish that was happily rotting beneath the morning sunlight. "I am still attempting to settle among the noise and fragrant aromas of the city."

She wrinkled her nose in ready empathy. "You have not had a very pleasant welcome. I can assure you that the days are not as a rule so wretchedly hot, nor the nights so filled with such violence."

"And the noise and aromas?"

"Those, I fear, are our constant companions," she confessed, those dimples once again making an appearance.

"A pity." Arrested by the sparkle in the glorious eyes, Sebastian slowly smiled. "Still, I suppose London does have its share of beauty. Beauty that is all the more rare and astonishing because it is unexpected."

She blinked, almost as surprised as Sebastian himself at the soft words.

"Yes ... well, I suppose there is nothing to be found here. I should return to William."

Sebastian was swift to hold out his arm. He did not want this woman to be wandering through London on her own. Not with Drake and his minions only a few houses away.

"Allow me to escort you."

She lifted her brows, as if caught off guard by his offer. "That is not necessary. I live but a short distance away."

"Not necessary, but perhaps wise." He deliberately glanced toward the ground where the traces of blood still remained. Not even this maiden could so easily have forgotten a woman had been murdered in this spot only a few hours ago. "A young maiden upon her own in such an isolated area can be prey to all sorts of undesirable attention."

With a tiny shiver she readily placed her fingers upon his arm. It appeared that her stubbornness was at least tempered with a measure of common sense.

"Very well."

Relieved that he was not to be forced into a ridiculous argument, Sebastian steered her away from the stables and down the narrow lane. He even managed to pull her close enough to feel her sweet warmth seep into his being.

For a time they walked in a companionable silence, and then Sebastian glanced down to study the delicate lines of her profile.

"Do you care for your brother on your own?"

She abruptly lifted her head to meet his searching gaze. "Oh, no. I have Mrs. Benson, my housekeeper. She is very dedicated to William."

"What of your parents?" he demanded, not at all pleased with the thought of this maiden being so heavily burdened at such a young age. It was surely unnatural, even among humans.

"They . . ." Her gaze dropped abruptly. "They struggle with their sense of regret over William.

It has been very difficult for them to accept the fact that he would never be as other young gentlemen."

Sebastian held no sympathy for the unknown Had-wells. Vampires respected and admired one another precisely for their differences. It was well known that it was the variety of thoughts and opinions that made for the highest form of society, and that all possessed their share of strengths and weaknesses. All except for the three traitors who had proved unworthy of respect.

"He seems a loving and gentle soul," he said.

She gave a restless lift of one shoulder. "Yes, but there can be no denying that he is slow of wit and incapable of controlling his inheritance."

"He would not be the first son who is a disappointment to his parents," Sebastian pointed out in dry tones. He had been in London long enough to witness the wretched display of debauchery by those who claimed to be of the highest blood. "The gaming hells of London are littered with worthless noblemen squandering their inheritances."