Feeling Asher's scornful gaze upon her, Jane returned to her intense scrutiny of the ugly rug and her pale green slippers. She was afraid. In less than an hour she would belong to a man who was not a man, and he would have absolute control over her life. And this man was a vampire in love with her bosom chum, which was a fact impossible to ignore.
Despite her groom's obvious disgust, Jane felt her eyes drawn to Asher once again. Tonight he was wearing dignity and a new suit of clothes, standing stiff and starched and unfriendly. Jane breathed deeply, trying to calm her nerves. She had not forced Asher into the misalliance of the century.
No matter the earl's feelings, Jane intended to do all she could to be a good and loyal wife. She had a fine example in her mother. Thinking back to childhood, Jane recalled how her mother often used to wait for the major to come home from his nightly forays in vampire-staking. The woman often had a hot bath prepared, cold water too, to soak his jacket and shirt, and a glass of brandy for her husband. She'd never scolded the major for the dusty ashes or blood on his clothing.
Would Asher want a hot bath and brandy, or would he want a blood bath? That particular thought made Jane twist her lips in an expression of pure distaste, and her stomach grew queasy.
"Buck up," Jane mumbled to herself under breath. She intended to be a solicitous wife, even regarding her groom's blood fetish. She just wasn't quite sure how. There was so much about her new husband she didn't know. Did Asher have any mirrors in his house? If not, how would she do her hair and dress for balls? Did he mind sleeping in such close quarters night after night? Perhaps he'd had an oversized coffin made. She hoped so. Did he have a silver tea service and if not, what did he use when entertaining? All the best tea services were silver. Did he track in mud from the graveyard at night? Did he rise at sunset all grumpy and ill-tempered, as her father did upon his morning wake-up call? Would her husband expect her to entertain large nestings of vampires? If so, what was the social etiquette? Did one offer them wine, brandy—your blood?
As she passed the Huntsleys in their pew, Jane took a shaky breath and managed a faint smile for Clair, who was grinning ear to ear. At least someone was enjoying the wedding, she thought morosely. Too bad it wasn't her. At least she would never have to polish her father's silver again.
Where were her chocolates when she needed them? Her life was spinning out of control. Her thoughts were tripping over each other. Would the major discover Asher's secret? She sincerely hoped not. She did look so dreadful in black. What did she really know of the groom besides that he was a notorious womanizer and vampire? Did he like to walk barefoot in the grass, or did he reserve that solely for his crypt? Were monsters' balls solely for monsters? Would Asher keep a mistress now that he was joined in the holy state of matrimony? Probably, she answered herself, since a rake was a rake, even if he had fangs instead of teeth.
Somehow the thought of Asher's mistresses irritated Jane; she realized that she couldn't bear to conceive of him being passionate about another woman. Jane wasn't sure what her feelings were for this tall, handsome vampire; they were feelings she would rather not take out and examine in the naked light of day. But despite her best intentions, her childhood training, and her lack of ability to draw and keep the attention of such a remarkable catch, Jane had felt strong emotions about Asher from the first. He'd called to her in a way no man or creature of the night had ever done. It was as if he had her destiny written upon his face.
Her father had taught her to put her heart into her objectives—an easy feat with Asher as her husband. She intended to cherish him until the day she died, and to one day make him proud that he had married and saved her from ruin. Despite his pompous airs and neck-biting tendencies, her groom stirred a deep pool of emotion that had been tightly dammed inside her.
Finally, the long walk down the aisle was done. She glanced up as her father handed her over to the groom. Asher was a lighter shade than his usual color, and Jane wondered if his injury was bothering him. She managed a weak smile.
"Your bride, Wolverton," the major said curtly. "Take good care of her, if you can."
Asher glared bitterly at his soon-to-be father-in-law and noted the man's stiff posture and sour features. "I will do my duty, Major," he retorted contemptuously. Ian had explained that the Van Helsings knew they had a case of mistaken identity. They also believed he was innocent of being a vampire. Ha! Asher thought morosely—he wouldn't take the Van Helsings at their word. They were a bloodthirsty, vicious, murdering lot. And he was to be related to the whole untrustworthy group. It was a sorry state of affairs that a master vampire should be made to suffer such a horrendous misalliance.
Yes, he could see his future going up in smoke. Married to a Van Helsing, that was certainly a very real possibility. If she didn't stake him one day in his sleep, she might burn him up in his coffin. How could he ever trust her to see to his health and hearth? And look how clumsy she was, scattering orange blossoms from her bridal bouquet as she stood next to him, visibly trembling.
Jane Van Helsing was to wear his name and share a small portion of his undead life. Pie, who appreciated beauty in all its forms, would be married to a diamond of the… fifth water? He, who had sworn never to marry except for love, was bound to a detestable, vampire-slaying Van Helsing. This was irony at its worst. The Fates must be dancing a merry little jig on his ancestors' graves.
"We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman," the vicar began.
With a gesture of indignant tribulation, Asher grasped Jane's hand. Dimly he was aware that it was colder than his own. Perfect, he thought maliciously. The harridan was afraid. And she should fear for her very life, for she had caused disaster with her moronic folly. He would make her short mortal life a misery. In fact, he would make it his duty to make her life miserable for cutting him down in his undead prime.
Glaring down at her bent head, he observed the crown of orange blossoms she wore, interwoven with the short veil that covered her face. The flowers gave off a lush, rich smell. And also was the scent of Jane's essence—fresh and spicy, like her blood. Unconsciously he licked his lips. Unaware, he tightened his grasp on her hand, causing Jane to wince.
Again Asher glanced down at his unwanted bride, abstractly appreciating how the pale green color of her gown emphasized her eyes. The neckline of her dress was low and round, pushing her abundant breasts upward. He recognized that Jane's breathing had increased with her anxiety, causing her bosoms to rise and fall like lush fruits waiting to be sampled. He wondered if the tips were coral hued or rose. He wondered what they would taste like.
Catching himself admiring his soon to be wife, Asher bit back a snarl. Hellfire! It would be a cold day in hell and elephants would fly before he touched this venomous vampire slayer! He hadn't survived this long by underestimating his foes. He would also have to talk to his bride about wearing gowns that revealed too much of her body. Just because he was not going to enjoy two of her finest assets did not mean he wanted other men or monsters to ogle them.
Observing the silent but ominous byplay between the groom and bride, the vicar continued the ceremony. His voice filled the pews. Secretly he prayed that the bride wouldn't faint and the groom wouldn't burst the throbbing blood vessel in his forehead before the I dos were spoken.
Nervously he hesitated, his gaze fearfully searching the small assemblage. "If any man can show just cause why these two should not be lawfully joined in holy matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."