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"Corvindale is here," she said after a short time, perhaps after judging that the color had seeped back into his cheeks. "He has news."
Giordan withdrew immediately and looked at her in surprise. "Why did you not tell me at once?" he said, swallowing the last bit.
"I could see you were in no good mood for it. You must be attended to first."
"I'm no fragile flower," he snapped, sitting up.
Rubey offered her arm for him to finish off and patted his cheek with the opposite hand. "If you could have seen yourself, Giordan, my darling, you wouldn't say such foolish things." She ended the little pat with a tender caress over his jaw.
He frowned, but attended to her wound with his lips and tongue. She tremored a bit beneath his mouth now, and her eyes sank half-closed. He could scent the heightened musk wafting from her body and his own gave a little shiver in response.
"By the Virgin, if you weren't ruined for any other, I'd be tossing my glove into the ring for you, Giordan, rich and handsome and kind as you are," she said, her voice dusky and filled with the Irish. "But you are ruined," she said, sitting up and sliding her legs off the bed. "And so I'll tell you the bad part. That Corvindale's news is about Narcise."
"Where have you been?" Chas demanded as he burst into the chamber where Narcise was sitting.
He'd been frantic, looking for her first throughout the pleasure house, and then trying to find her by searching the streets nearby, interviewing servants and pedestrians to see if they'd noticed her. No one had, and he'd begun to be certain that somehow, Cezar had managed to take her from beneath his very nose.
Narcise leveled a calm stare at him. "I went for a walk."
There was something in her eyes, something different.
"You went for a walk without telling anyone where you were going? Did you not think I might be worried that something had happened to you?"
"What can happen to me in London? I'm a Dracule, and use a sword better than any man I've ever met," she replied, still calm and unemotional. "No one can harm me. Nor do I answer to anyone any longer."
"What if Cezar were here? What if he'd sent his makes after you?" Chas continued, uncaring that he sounded almost as shrill and controlling as his bossy sister Maia.
Narcise-God in heaven, how could anyone be so utterly breathtaking?-fixed him with those blue-violet, black-ringed irises. Her hair hung in a long, single braid over her shoulder. He knew that it would still be smooth and straight as a bolt of silk, shimmering like a blue-black waterfall, when the plait was undone. His heart thumped and swelled, thinking about the moment they might share later, when he did just that.
Her cheeks were flushed a bit more pink than usual, and the hem of her gown was dirty and damp. The filthy, worn toe of a slipper peeped from beneath and her face had a smudge of dirt-and...blood?-on it. On her lips, too. As if she'd been cut.
"What did Sonia tell you?" she asked.
Rubey. Damn and blast. Chas sat in a chair next to the sofa on which Narcise was sitting. He'd known he had to tell her...he just hadn't been ready to so soon. He'd needed time to think about it all.
And as he sat here now, looking at her, he knew things were about to change.
"When you gave her the button from Cezar's coat, what did Sonia say?" Narcise asked again. "You told me she didn't have a clear vision."
Again he sensed that there was something different about her...something perhaps more confident, even peaceful...and yet something dark and unsettled lurked in her eyes. As if she were in some great pain.
Had he done that to her?
He bowed his head, then looked straight at her. "She did see something...I didn't want to tell you, Narcise. I didn't know what it meant, and I didn't know how you'd feel. Or react."
"What did she see?" Her voice was tight and angry.
"She always sees what it is that the person fears the most. And what she saw when she held Cezar's button was you, Narcise."
"Me?" Narcise's eyes had turned from flat and furious to shocked and wide. "She saw me?"
Chas nodded. Sonia had described the vision as Narcise, whom she'd met previously in the carriage, peering out from behind a fan. The ivory spindles were half-spread, covering the bottom of her chin and part of one cheek. Was the fact that her face was partially hidden somehow meaningful?
"How can that be? What does that mean?" Narcise said, but even as she spoke, he watched her face change into one of contemplation and consideration...which was just what he'd feared.
It would be just like his beautiful, brave Narcise to rush off to Paris and use herself to get back in to see Cezar. He'd intended to get her settled safely somewhere and then go back to France himself and put an end to Cezar Moldavi.
And then he'd come back to Narcise and they'd find a way to be together.
For, now that Chas had gotten the news about Dimitri's great change, even more hope stirred inside him. Just three days ago, while he and Narcise were still traveling back from Scotland, Dimitri had gone through some great ordeal to save Maia's life...and now he, too, had miraculously broken Lucifer's hold on him. Whether it was because he'd finally learned how to do it through his studies, or for some other reason, Chas wasn't certain. But the truth was, Dimitri had become mortal once again-his Mark from Lucifer had disappeared.
And the angry, austere earl had actually been seen to be smiling.
Just then, the door flew open to emit Rubey, who had no qualms about bursting into any chamber of her establishment without knocking. "Aye, I thought I heard you return. Dimitri is here," she said to Chas. "He insists upon speaking with you immediately, Chas. Voss is here as well."
He rose, at once concerned and relieved by the interruption.
"With your permission, Narcise." He glanced at her and was rewarded with a cool look that told him she wasn't finished with her pique. Ah, well, women were always annoyed about something. At least his sisters always were. He gave a proper bow and followed Rubey from the chamber.
One thing was certain. Chas wasn't going to tell Narcise-or anyone, especially Rubey-what else Sonia had seen...when he gave her a handkerchief belonging to Giordan Cale.
According to Sonia, Cale's greatest fear was Narcise. Dead.
Narcise stared after them as the door closed, suddenly furious and bereft at the same time.
The moment Rubey rushed in, she'd smelled him: smart, masculine, familiar. Giordan. On her.
Her throat seized up, tight and scratchy, and she'd hardly heard the ensuing conversation, for her entire body was swimming in disbelief and anger. Narcise's vision darkened with shadowy, red edges. By Fate, Giordan must have fairly run to have made his way back here to Rubey first, and without Narcise seeing him.
