The hint of wary suspicion remained simmering deep in the ebony eyes. "There are any number of young maidens on their own in London, most without the security of a home and regular allowance. Why choose me?"
Sebastian paused before deliberately curving his lips into a small smile. "Do you seek compliments, my dear? Do you wish me to tell you that I thought of you long into the night? And that I was anxious for an opportunity to speak with you again?"
Just for a moment, her breath seemed to catch at his flattering words. There was even a hint of color upon her cheeks. Then her shoulders squared sternly and she angled her chin to a stubborn tilt.
"I do not believe you."
Sebastian gave a choked laugh. "No?"
"I am not entirely ignorant. You are not a gentleman who indulges in light flirtations."
He grimaced at the truth in her accusation. Unlike Gideon and Lucien, who had joined him to battle the traitorous vampires, he had never found pleasure in pursuing mortal females. Even before the Veil, he had held himself aloof.
"No, I fear I do not possess the skill for such adventures," he confessed, his gaze lingering upon the tempting curve of her lip. "That does not mean, however, that I do not find you fascinating."
Her lips thinned in disbelief. "Perhaps as a scientist finds a bit of mold fascinating."
This time his laugh echoed through the empty lane. She was certainly a maiden who preferred to speak what was on her mind. She was also far too perceptive.
"I would hardly compare you to mold, my dear. You are far too beautiful and intelligent. A rare combination."
She waved aside his words of flattery. "What is it that you want from me, sir?"
Sebastian stepped closer, realizing that his attempts to distract her with sweet words would not satisfy her suspicion. She did not desire to wrap her world in a rosy glow that dimmed any unpleasantness, as many young maidens preferred. She would face it with a bold, fearless manner.
"For the moment I only ask for your trust," he said slowly.
The dark eyes narrowed. "Why?"
His hand was reaching out to move softly over her raven curls before he could halt the movement.
"Because I fear that danger is stalking the streets of London," he murmured. "And you are alone."
She searched his countenance, as if seeking answers. Or perhaps she was simply attempting to determine if he were friend or foe.
At last she gave a slow shake of her head.
"But you will not tell me why I am in danger? Nor why you are willing to protect me?"
"You would not believe me if I did tell you the truth."
Annoyance tightened her features as she heaved a deep sigh. She raised slender fingers to press to her temple as if to still a sudden pain.
"I weary of these riddles," she said in dark tones.
Sebastian allowed his hand to briefly cup her pale face before he ruefully stepped backward.
She did, indeed, appear tired and far too fragile. His heart gave a squeeze of sympathy.
"You are very pale," he said gently. "We will speak of this again later."
"Yes, perhaps that would be for the best," she readily agreed. "Good day, sir."
He dipped his head. "Good day."
Resisting the ridiculous urge to reach out and keep her from leaving his side, Sebastian watched in silence as she slowly made her way the short distance down the alley and turned into the corner of her garden. Even from a distance he could feel the lingering anxiety that he had been unable to appease. He could feel it as sharply as if it were a part of himself.
A part of him desired to follow and wrap her in his arms so he could assure her that nothing would happen to her as long as he was near. Another part, however, urged him to return to his home and attempt to regain a measure of detachment. Nothing could be served by allowing his suddenly awakened emotions to cloud his wits.
Waiting until he was certain she was safely inside her house, Sebastian slowly turned to make his way back down the lane. He had a great deal to consider. Not the least of which was how he intended to put an end to Drake's threat.
Lost in thought, Sebastian had just passed the abandoned stables when he came to a sudden halt. Although there was nothing to be heard or seen, his senses alerted him that he was no longer alone.
With a fluid stealth, he had slipped his hand beneath his coat to grasp the hilt of his deadly dagger. Only then did he step forward to confront the lurking intruder.
"Who goes there?" he demanded in low tones. "Reveal yourself."
There was a sudden rustle among the leaves of a nearby hedge before a large, awkward form abruptly lumbered into the lane clutching a black cat.
"Me. Me."
Sebastian's tension eased as he replaced the dagger back into his hidden pocket. His expression, however, remained hard with annoyance.
"William." His brows drew together in a threatening motion. "What the devil are you doing here?"
Obviously impervious to Sebastian's dark temper, the young gentleman smiled with a sweet happiness.
"Nice man."
Sebastian's frown only deepened. "You do know that your sister believes you to be safely eating breakfast? She will be sick with worry when she discovers that you are missing once
again."
William merely pointed toward the hedge. "Cats."
"Yes, I know about your damnable cats," he growled. Although he possessed compassion for the young man, the knowledge that he was so willing to lure his sister into danger was enough to set his teeth on edge. He did not doubt for a moment that Miss Hadwell would soon be scouring the streets in search of her missing brother. "What am I to do with you?"
"Me?" William wrinkled his brow. "Me, William."
"You should be at home. Did you not promise your sister to remain there?"
A familiar stubborn expression settled on the round face. "Cats."
"Blessed Nefri." Sebastian sucked in a deep breath. With an effort he calmed his rising temper. This man was a child at heart. He could not bully nor threaten him. All he could do was attempt to prevent him from leading his sister into disaster. "You are obviously determined to be with those mangy kittens regardless of the danger to your sister."
His smile returned. "Milly, nice."
"Milly?" Sebastian was briefly caught off guard. "Ah, Amelia. Yes, she is nice. Far too nice."
"Nice man."
"You are wide of the mark there, my boy," Sebastian retorted in dry tones.
William frowned. "No. Nice man."
"Blast it all." Giving a shake of his head, Sebastian surrendered to the inevitable. William was determined to be with his cats. There was only one certain means of ensuring that Miss Hadwell was not spending her nights in the dark and dangerous alley. "Get your blasted kittens."
"Cats?"
"Yes. We will take them to my home. At least then you will not be roaming the lanes and your sister will not be placed in such danger."
The frown disappeared as if by magic and the dark eyes abruptly glowed with pleasure.
"Nice, nice man," William chattered, hurriedly turning to pile the kittens in his large arms.
Sebastian suppressed a shiver. His aging housekeeper would no doubt desire his head upon a platter when she discovered his latest houseguests, if she did not simply walk out. And his privacy would be in constant danger with William wandering in and out of his home.
Still, he would do whatever was necessary to keep Miss Hadwell from Drake's clutches.
No, he sternly reminded himself. Not Miss Hadwell, but the Medallion. It was the Medallion that was important.
He heaved a heavy sigh.
"No, not a nice man," he muttered. "Merely a man who wishes he was back among the peace of his books. Now bring your cats along before I come to my senses."
Chapter Three
Amelia endured yet another sleepless night.
On this occasion, it was not the formless shadow nor the impending sense of danger that kept her pacing the floor of her bedchamber. At least not directly.
Instead it had been the memories of Mr. St. Ives that had haunted her thoughts.
Why did he disturb her so?
He was beautiful, of course. Perhaps the most beautiful man she had ever encountered. More than once she had discovered her gaze lingering upon his pale, elegant features as if she were a moonstruck idiot rather than a sensible woman.
And when he had touched her . . . well, she could not deny that he had made her heart trip and caused the most peculiar sensations to rush through her body.
But it was more than his physical appeal that made him linger in her thoughts.
There was something about him that was unusual, she acknowledged as she slowly pulled on a muslin gown in a shade of pale lemon. Something that she could not precisely pinpoint but nevertheless warned her that he was no common flirt who pursued her for his own pleasure.
The question now, of course, was—what did he want?
And how was he connected with the deadly shadow? A shadow that still remained an unnerving mystery.
Without thinking, Amelia reached up to touch the amulet. The Gypsy had warned of danger.
