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"I wasn't offended that you left my gathering as much as I was concerned," Giordan offered as his host poured two glasses at the sideboard. The titillating scent of fresh blood mingled with liquor filled the room. He wondered uncomfortably from where the blood had come. "After all, that night I had been the recipient of an unexpected gift," he said. "I hadn't had the opportunity to thank you."
"Indeed. I do hope you enjoyed it," Moldavi said, handing his guest one of the glasses, brushing his fingers as he did so. "In all honesty, I wasn't certain if it would be to your liking. In fact, I'd rather hoped it wouldn't." The other man's eyes fastened meaningfully on his and for the first time, Giordan saw something there besides cunning and intelligence.
Admiration.
Fascination.
Desire.
He recognized it and nearly stepped back, his stomach twisting unpleasantly, shock and comprehension rendering him silent. All at once, the dark memories rushed to the fore-front of his mind-the grasping hands in the alleys, the smell of men, the humiliation and pain.
Giordan shook the images away and speared Moldavi with his own flat gaze. "As a matter of fact, that evening was very much to my liking," he replied so that his position couldn't be misunderstood. "Where is she?"
All pretense had dropped; they were man to man, staring at each other, no longer hiding anything.
"She's gone," Moldavi said.
"I want to see her."
Moldavi shrugged. "She has no desire to see you."
"You're lying," Giordan replied with confidence. "She's in love with me." He knew it for a fact; he never doubted it, for though she hadn't said the words, she had proven it when she kissed him.
She'd kissed him more than once, more than in the heat of passion, more than when he'd asked it of her. She'd kissed him with love and tenderness, and freely. He had no doubt of her feelings for him, and every bit of confidence in her brother's attempt to manipulate.
"And, to my dismay, you're in love with her," Moldavi said. He pulled something from his pocket. "You hid it very well. I wasn't certain at all, for you seemed immune. I had hoped-" He shook his head, pressing his lips together in dismay as he cut off his own words. "This is what confirmed it for me."
He held a long, slender gold chain with a single feather dangling from it. The one Giordan had removed from Narcise and tossed to the floor of his parlor the night she'd seduced him.
Moldavi's smile was a bit crooked. "If you didn't love her, you wouldn't have noticed or cared. Nor," he added, "would you have visited her disguised as Monsieur David."
Giordan couldn't keep his eyes from flickering in surprise. "You knew of that?"
His host's lips twisted in reluctant admiration. "Not at first. You fooled everyone. Not until after I found this-" he gestured with the feather "-and began to suspect. But when I went into her chamber and scented you in there..." His voice trailed off, his eyes settling heavily on him. "I've become quite familiar with your scent."
Giordan kept his face blank despite the increasingly uncomfortable churning in his belly. He was emotionless, feeling not even the animosity or affront he should. He tried to picture how Dimitri would respond in this situation: cold and lethal. But Dimitri had not lived through what Giordan had.
"I suppose I could consider myself flattered, but I do not," he replied coldly. "You understand, I have interest in only one member of the Moldavi family."
"I was afraid of that, Giordan-ah, forgive my informality. I've long thought of you that way. These last few weeks have been rather difficult for me, not knowing for certain. Particularly the time we spent in here after you fought with my sister that night." His dark gaze settled meaningfully on him.
Giordan realized with a start that that night, he'd been sitting in this very chamber dressed only in breeches, and likely smelling of arousal and maleness after the session with Narcise. His mouth dried and he realized now what he'd scented beneath Moldavi's cologne of cedar and patchouli. It was the essence of desperate desire that he'd found unpleasant.
Moldavi continued. "I had held out hope that you might be of the same mind as Eddersley-albeit much more subtle and reserved about it. After all, no man could resist Narcise and you appeared to do so."
"A man who doesn't force himself onto a woman isn't necessarily a molly," Giordan said with disdain. "He's a gentleman."
"Despite your protestations to the contrary," Moldavi said as he moved away from the sideboard and closer to Giordan, "I happen to know you're no stranger to buggery, particularly from your teen years." His eyes burned red and hot.
Giordan went cold, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. "The correct term would be rape," he said from between numb lips. He tried to summon the dark rage that he knew simmered deep inside, but somehow Moldavi's words and knowledge had catapulted him back to those dark days and evil memories. They'd grabbed hold of him and smothered his instinctive response, setting him off balance and out of sorts. He felt as if he were swimming deep in a very murky pond: half-blind, sluggish, breathless.
Moldavi seemed to realize this, and he was now standing very close to him. His scent rolled off in heavy waves, thick with lust. "Why are you here, Giordan?" he asked, the sibilant hiss very pronounced in his voice. A fang flashed, the gold chip in it winking coyly as he looked up at him.
"You know why I'm here. I want Narcise."
"Hmm. Yes. I wonder what you're willing to do to have her." Moldavi reached up as if to touch him, and Giordan knocked the man's hand away with a sharp, controlled movement.
"You overstep," he said with a calm he didn't realize he currently possessed. The anger simmered faster and harder now, nearer to the boiling point. He stepped back and took a large sip of his drink. When he raised his arm, the weight of the stake shifted in his sleeve, reminding him that he did have a chance to end this now.
"You want Narcise, but so do so many other men, Giordan. It's really quite a quandary for me. She's very valuable in a variety of ways-you understand why I cannot give her up. Because, of course, if you fancy yourself in love with her, you'll want her with you-at least for a time. Decades perhaps. And then what would I do?"
"You can have the ship," Giordan said. "All of it. Two ships if you want."
"Shall we make it three?" Moldavi asked with an intimate chuckle. "No, no, I don't want that. Although from what I understand, you can afford it." He clicked his tongue, his eyes dancing with pleasure. "Forget about the stake you have hidden on you, Giordan. You can't murder me. Do you think I'm that much of a fool? What do you think will happen to Narcise the minute you attempt it?"
