I've advised the rest of the Council that Mathias is getting more brazen."
Disappointment slashed through Felicia. The Doomsday Brethren weren't her people, yet she was at the center of their fight. They'd done so much to protect her, make her feel welcome. Yes, she wanted Mathias stopped, not simply for her own sake, but theirs, as well.
"Let me guess. The Council doesn't care," Simon drawled.
"It doesn't affect them and doesn't make them lose face with magickind, so no. It's our problem because we've failed to fulfill our assignment and kill him."
Simon scoffed.
"Where are you taking Felicia?" Bram queried.
"London." A smile played at the corner of his mouth.
"Will we see you?"
"Perhaps. But you'll definitely hear of us. When you reach Kari's pub, have Sydney call me. I need to speak with her former boss. Holly is the perfect person to help me."
"Holly?" Bram choked. "Everything you say will be printed and spread around and--"
"Precisely."
"Have you gone barking mad?"
"No. I'm getting smart about Mathias."
"If you say ..." Confusion rang in Bram's tones. "When you get settled, we'll set up guard rotation around your location."
Simon shrugged. "It may not be necessary, but it can't hurt."
They ended the call a few minutes later, and Simon and Felicia rode for long minutes in silence. Simon turned up the radio, something soft, romantic. He grabbed her hand.
At some point, she lay her head against his shoulder and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the soft purr of the engine and his nearness. She awoke to a dawning day on London's outskirts, and the sounds of Simon speaking softly into his mobile.
"Thanks, Sydney. I'll call her now."
Then he rang off and dialed again.
Stretching, Felicia listened to Simon's part of the conversation.
"Ms. Rossmont, this is Simon Northam, the Duke of--precisely. Holly, it is, then.
I have information that may be of interest to you. I realize that your paper primarily handles paranormal related stories, and I'm sorry I haven't one. But based on our mutual acquaintance with Sydney, I wondered if you'd be willing to handle a story for me?"
A pause later, a woman's voice. Muffled. Felicia couldn't hear the words, just the tone.
"Ah, so the scandal is still alive and brewing." Another pause. "No, I agree. Three days isn't enough time for a story like this to die. I wondered if you'd be willing to help me with something this afternoon. At the Dorchester. Say, four o'clock?"
The woman spoke again, and Felicia's mind raced. Something? The woman worked for a newspaper. Certainly, Simon didn't plan a press conference. Enduring flashing bulbs and barked questions, pretending happiness for the public ... the thought made her ill.
She grabbed his arm. "Simon, I don't think--"
He held up a hand to stop her protest, and instead spoke into the mobile.
"Splendid. I'll make it worth your while."
More silence barely punctuated with a pushy woman's tones.
"An exclusive? Hmm. Under certain conditions."
He listened to her again, a smile slowly creeping across his face. Felicia realized that Simon was playing Holly, getting exactly what he wanted. He knew this game well.
"I'm not certain ..." he drawled.
The woman on the other end spoke loudly and rapidly. Vociferously. Simon smiled wider.
"Well, if those are your terms, then yes. You can run everything tonight by seven p.m., exclusively, for forty-eight hours. That's my offer."
What was everything?
Silence reigned on the other end for a long moment before she replied. Felicia wished she could hear Holly's words.
"Excellent," Simon finally said. "Glad we could come to an agreement. I'll see you later, then."
With that, he rang off and pocketed his phone, looking very pleased. "We have a 134
lot to do before then."
Such as? "Sleep?"
He laughed. "No, Sunshine. We must get ready to put on a show. This is something I know all about. Trust me."
Felicia drew in a deep breath. Trust him. Did she? To keep her safe, yes. Without reservation. But could she do it enough to let go of her fear and build a life with him?
Chapter 13
LESS THAN AN HOUR later, Duke drove into the snarl of London traffic, ready for breakfast, a soft bed, and a passionate interlude with his mate. He would have the first two. The last ... Duke sighed. He must give Felicia time to acclimate and try to curb the caveman instincts magnified by the fever, but he couldn't let her get too comfortable. He refused to repeat Mason's mistake.
Especially given her story about Deirdre. Clearly, Felicia had loved her sister and Deirdre's death was a wound that hadn't healed. Beneath his mate's cautious shell lay an emotional woman she did her damnedest to repress. He would never win her until he got past her defenses.
When he glanced her way, her face was shuttered again. That she'd closed up so quickly and thoroughly after surrendering so completely in his arms disturbed him.
Bloody hell.
He also had to remember that he'd known her for fewer than three days--not enough time for most humans to fall in love. He sought a passion and commitment she hadn't given to Mason in six years. It sounded fucking hopeless.
But Duke wasn't a quitter.
How could he help her get over the fear of heartbreak she'd developed following Deirdre's suicide? Or was it more? Mason had been in her life before her sister's death, and Felicia hadn't fallen for him then. Nor had she fallen for her previous boyfriend, Tristan. Neither man had been right for her, true, but had something caused Felicia to turn inward even before Deirdre's death? Her parents, most likely. They'd valued her for the wrong reasons and, he'd guess from her tale, emotionally neglected her for most of her life. Now, Felicia did her damnedest to maintain careful emotional distance so she couldn't get hurt. How did he stop that cycle before he became victim number three?
Now wasn't the time to ask her questions. She'd already opened up far more, he sensed, than usual. Though difficult, she'd trusted him enough to talk about Deirdre. It was a good first step. Next, he'd start learning her psyche and seducing her--for good.
As they approached Hyde Park, his mobile rang again. The name on the display surprised him.
"Who is it?" Felicia asked.
"My mother." He grimaced. He hadn't spoken to her since the night he'd carried Felicia away. Duke grimaced, imagining what his mother had to say.
He clicked the button to silence the ringer and let the call slide to voicemail.
Felicia shot him a sharp glance. "You're avoiding her."
"Of course. That's a haranguing in the works."
She laughed at him.
"What is so funny?" he demanded, secretly pleased to see her relaxed enough with him to smile.
"A grown man--a warrior wizard--running from his mother." She giggled again.
"That should tell you just how frightening she can be."
"She was always perfectly lovely to me. We never disagreed about anything whilst planning the wedding."
"Hmm, that's because you kept everything very traditional and acquiesced to her
'suggestion' that you marry at Lowechester Hall. Had you wanted a Goth wedding in an underground club in Soho, I daresay she would have reacted differently."
"Perhaps," she conceded. "But you must face her someday."
"Can I think on that for a bit?" he teased.
She swatted his arm playfully. "Your mother loves you." Then she sobered up.
"You can't know how precious that is unless you've never had motherly affection."
As he'd suspected. Had Felicia been protecting her heart since the day her wretched parents had adopted her? What would never being valued or loved for the person she was inside do to a little girl?
If they weren't already dead, Duke would gladly throttle them with his own two hands.
"Does your mum ... know about you?" Felicia asked.
"That I'm a wizard? No." He sighed, familiar regret sliding through him. "How do I tell her that I'm not quite human?"
"So the magical thing is not hereditary?"
"It is. My ability came from my father's side. He was at the end of his lifespan when he found my mother, so he died shortly after I turned six. The day he died, he said he had much to tell me, but he'd run out of time. I pieced it together eventually," he said, navigating a crowded street and dodging pedestrians. "Mum knows I have some secret.
We aren't as close as we once were, and I know my ... friction with Mason troubles her.
But she's still caring and supportive. I do value that."
"So you'll ring her back?"
He smiled tightly. "All right. After we navigate the crowd."
Felicia frowned, peering out the window. "What crowd?"
The sun shone brightly. Pedestrians bundled as they scurried to and fro, their breaths clouding the air, demonstrating how bitterly cold it was.
Finally, Duke turned the last corner and the Dorchester Hotel came into view ...
along with a horde of reporters and paparazzi.
"That crowd."
She gasped, then turned to him in horror. "They're here for us?"
"Indeed." He brought the car to a stop under the low, flat portico in front of the swank hotel, grateful for the auto's tinted windows. He extracted the keys from the ignition, then took her hand in his. Suddenly, a sea of flashing bulbs and shouting people surrounded the car.
"Remember, you must act as if we're in love. Give these people the show they require to provide you a human shield."
Felicia looked shell-shocked but nodded slowly. "Mathias would be an utter fool to reveal his magic to all these people or try some human means to remove them from his path."
"Precisely. Let's go."
He opened the driver's-side door and stood. Immediately, he was swarmed. He shouldered past several reporters with a "No comment," and picked his way to the passenger door.
When he opened it, Felicia shrank back into her seat. "They'll mob us."
"They'll take pictures and shout questions. Ignore them. It will make them work 137
harder." He grinned.
With a sigh, Felicia cautiously gave him her hand. He grabbed it, gratified by the small show of trust.
It didn't take any mustering of effort on his part to drag her against his body and hold her tight, arm curled around her small waist. He let one hand wander low on her hip, just above the curve of her luscious backside. Predictably, flashbulbs flared all around.
"Are you dating your brother's fiancee?" shouted one reporter.
"Have you been having a sexual relationship behind his back?" another called.
"Did your brother know of your relationship with his fiancee before the wedding?"
"Where have you been since you abducted her?"
Duke put on his coldest face and glared at the group of reporters nearest him. "No comment."
With that, he dragged Felicia toward the Dorchester's door, ignoring their other questions and innuendos.
Inside, the staff greeted them with a smile. "Good morning, Your Grace. Madam.
Welcome."
Beside him, she stiffened, and he soothed her with a caress of his fingers at her waist. "I phoned last night. You have a reservation for me, I believe. A suite. With a view." He planted a peck on Felicia's chilled, red cheek--a gesture he knew could be interpreted in more than one way. "And lots of privacy."
"Of course," the desk clerk assured, straightening his proper gray tie. "Luggage?"
"None." Grinning unrepentantly, he knew exactly what the tabloids would make of that.
Within moments, a perky young woman with a modest bun and dark skirt escorted them to the top level of the hotel. Somehow, she managed to keep her gaze averted, but Felicia felt the woman's curiosity. Naturally. The Duke of Hurstgrove was taking a woman to a hotel room, sans luggage, shortly after sunrise. Most people checking into a hotel sans luggage weren't seeking a bed for sleep.
Felicia felt herself flush again, her cheeks even hotter. In the three days she'd known this man, he'd turned her life upside down. Nothing about him was predictable. Or her response to him. Most men were easily brushed aside. If someone got too close, she stopped seeing him. Neat. Simple.
Simon didn't fit that mold. His possessive arm around her waist was a subtle reminder that he intended to keep her close. He monitored everything--her expression, her breathing, her gait--using them to read her, gauge her mood. God knew, Simon could make her body respond to him in any way he'd wished. She feared it was only a matter of time before he made her heart do the same.
Swallowing as the hotel employee opened the door, Felicia peeked inside, her eyes going wide. Oh. My. God. It wasn't a hotel room, but a swanky multi-room palace with views that went on forever. It featured exotic hardwood floors, a sitting room with a couch that looked like a chocolate cloud, and beyond that, a massive four-poster canopy bed swathed in the most luxurious silk bedding she'd ever seen.
Simon nudged her into the room, then turned to the other woman. "Thank you ..."
