Against her will her hand shifted to cover her neck.
Tristan had taken human life? He had murdered helpless innocents?
Dear heavens, did he intend her to be a victim?
Was that why Gideon had warned her to beware?
Suddenly it was too much for Simone to accept.
Reasonable, sane women did not believe in vampires. Not even when she had seen a picture of Gideon that had been painted three hundred years before, or when he managed to heal wounds that should have put him in his grave.
And she was a reasonable, sane woman, she assured herself.
She was not mad.
“This is not happening,” she whispered in broken tones.
“Simone,” he frowned with obvious concern. “Are you ill?”
“I wish to return home.”
“But ...”
“Please, Gideon,” she pleaded, feeling as if she might shatter to pieces at any moment. “I must have time to consider what you have told me.”
He regarded her for a long moment. “What will you do?”
“I do not know.” She reluctantly forced herself to meet the dark, compelling gaze. “I truly do not know.”
Chapter 11
Tristan waited in the shadows as the frumpy maid neared.
His patience had been severely strained over the past few days.
When he had returned to London he had presumed it would be a simple matter to encounter Lady Gilbert and confront her with his ultimatum. After all, she was always gadding from one social function to another.
But strangely the usually flamboyant widow had cloistered herself in her home and refused to receive even her most devoted admirers.
The gossip had, of course, already started to twitter through town. The less vicious of the Ton implied that she was nursing a heart broken by Mr. Ravel, while others were convinced that she was attempting to conceal the fact that she was carrying his bastard.
Tristan was indifferent to her reason for retreating from society. His only concern was ensuring she realized the danger she faced if she did not give him what he desired.
After dawdling to speak with a local charwoman, the maid at last continued down the street and with silent steps Tristan moved forward to block her path.
“Ah, my lovely damsel in distress,” he murmured with a lethal smile. “I do hope you have recovered from your trying experience?”
Giving a small squeak at his abrupt appearance, the maid took a hasty step backward before realizing he was the gentleman who had saved her only a fortnight before.
“Oh, yes sir.”
“Good. I should hate to think those wretched men had harmed you.”
“Only thanks to you, sir.”
“It is always my pleasure to be of help to a lovely maiden,” he answered smoothly.
As expected the woman’s eyes widened with pleasure. With her plain features and hair more like straw than silk, he did not doubt he was the first gentleman ever to give her such a compliment.
“Lovely? Me?”
“But of course.” Glancing down at the basket she carried in her hands, he lifted a silver brow. “Are you returning to Lady Gilbert’s?”
“Yes, sir,” she readily admitted, unaware that he was carefully steering her in the direction he desired. “I fear she is feeling rather poorly and I nipped out to get a few of those pastries my ma bakes. They are favorites of her ladyship.”
“How very thoughtful of you.”
“I do not like seeing her so blue deviled.”
“No, indeed.” Tristan tapped his chin with a thoughtful finger, pretending a concern for the woman he intended to destroy. “I have missed seeing her about as well. Is she ill?”
“A lingering pain in her head.”
“Ah, how tedious for her.”
“’Tis most unusual. She has always been blessed with a steady constitution. Not at all like most ladies who are forever swooning and taking to their beds.”
“She will no doubt be up and about before long.” Tristan reached beneath his jacket to pull out a small package he had wrapped in paper. “In the meantime I wonder if you will give her this trifling gift that I purchased for her?”
Annoyingly the maid hesitated as she regarded him with a faint frown.
“Would you not rather give it to her yerself ?”
He resisted the urge to knock her to the ground for her impertinence.
“It might be several days before I am able to see her again. I hope this will brighten her spirits.”
With clear reluctance the maid took the package he offered. “Very well.”
“Do not delay in giving it to her,” he commanded in stern tones. “I am certain it will help to make her forget all about the pain in her head.”
“Yes, I will, sir.”
He once again flashed his cold smile. “Then be off before those pastries lose their warmth.”
Dipping her head the maid scurried past him and headed directly for the large house at the end of the block. Tristan watched her disappear with a surge of satisfaction.
“Soon, my lady,” he whispered into the darkness. “Soon you will be in my power and I will sink my teeth deep into you.”
Seated at the window seat, Simone stared into the darkness of her garden as she absently shredded a dainty lace handkerchief.
It was the third handkerchief she had destroyed in as many nights.
Not that the destruction was making her feel any better, she acknowledged as she tossed the tattered lace aside. Nor had pacing the floor of her bedchamber for hours on end. Nor even the appalling concoction that had tasted suspiciously of rotting fish that her cook had insisted she drink to help her sleep.
But even as she told herself she was being a fool for virtually making herself a prisoner in her own home, she could not bring herself to step out of her chambers.
How could she possibly face others and pretend that nothing was the matter?
How could she face Gideon?
Or, heaven forbid, Mr. Soltern?
Of its own accord her hand raised to her neck. She still shuddered at the mere memory of Gideon’s stark confession.
A vampire?
It was insanity.
Beyond insanity.
And yet, had she not already realized that he was not human? Had she not witnessed his powers?
The light knock upon the door was a welcome distraction, and turning from the window she cleared her worried expression.
“Enter,” she called softly, not at all surprised when her maid pushed open the door and crossed the carpet toward her. Poor Daisy had not bothered to hide her growing concern at Simone’s uncharacteristic bout of brooding. She had, indeed, taken to arriving in the bedchamber with innumerable treats in the hopes of lifting her mistress’s heavy mood. “Daisy, you should be abed.”
The kindly maid held out a small basket that offered a most tempting aroma. “I have brought you some of those pastries that you like.”
Simone smiled at the young woman who was regarding her with an anxious gaze.
“Thank you. That was very kind of you.”
“You must eat something, my lady.”
Simone could not halt her faint grimace. Even the thought of food was enough to make her stomach heave in an alarming fashion.
“Yes, I will,” she hedged. “Perhaps later.”
Daisy gave a disapproving shake of her head, easily able to detect the manner Simone’s skin had tightened over the fine bones of her face and the dark circles beneath her eyes.
“’Tisn’t good for you to remain in this room and brood. No gentleman is worth becoming ill over.”
Simone widened her eyes in surprise at the chiding words. “What makes you believe that I am brooding over a gentleman?”
A knowing expression touched the round face. “If a woman is cast down it can always be blamed upon a gentleman. A right lot of trouble they are.”
A near hysterical laugh threatened as Simone thought of Gideon. She could only wish she was annoyed with him because he devoted his time to the gaming tables or had taken a mistress. Those were at least failings she could comprehend.
As it was ...
She trembled as she instinctively gathered her light robe closer to her body. “True enough. They are trouble I have no need of at the moment.”
“Well, as to that, I must say that life would be a good deal duller without them about,” Daisy reluctantly conceded. “They do have their uses.”
At the moment Simone would be hard pressed to think of one. Unless she were to count turning her life into chaos and ensuring that she would never again have a decent night’s rest.
“I think that I shall go to bed now, Daisy,” she said, knowing the maid would remain to prod her into eating the pastries if she did not send her on her way.
The servant turned to leave, then abruptly turned back to regard Simone with an embarrassed expression.
“Oh, I nearly forgot.”
“What is it?”
The maid reached into the pocket of her apron to remove a small package.
“A gentleman halted me in the street and requested that I give you this gift.”
Simone felt a chill run down her spine as she reluctantly accepted the gift.
“What gentleman?”
