Stifling the urge to pat herself on the back, she addressed herself to the couple. "Yes, Ian is such a big man. I am sure you need fear no wolf at his door."
Clair's frown deepened at her aunt's comment. She placed a hand on Ian's arm. "You must let me handle the situation if danger appears. I have come quite prepared."
Ian didn't like the sound of that. He liked it even less when she pulled a small derringer out of her valise.
"Silver bullets," she confided proudly.
"Bloody hell, Clair! Have you got a maggot in your head? Give me that thing before you hurt someone." He glowered as he reached for the gun.
Stubbornly, she shook her head. "I am an expert shot."
"That's what I'm afraid of." Ian held out his hand, but Clair ignored him. The situation was farcical, ludicrous, and downright scary. Clair with a gun!
Clair's eyebrows raised in question.
"You'll shoot somebody accidentally," he explained. "And being the fine markswoman you are, it could be fatal."
She slipped the derringer back into her valise. "I promise to keep it hidden away, unless there is an emergency."
Ian threw up his hands in disgust. "Heaven help us from females carrying guns and driving buggies. What is the world coming to?" His question had both ladies glaring at him and giving him the silent treatment until they were shown to their respective rooms in the earl's home.
Clair stopped outside the second-floor room assigned to her and her aunt. Mary excused herself and went inside, while Clair stood outside with Ian.
Bowing, he demanded, "You are going to rest after our journey. No snooping, spying, or sneaking around until I can go with you."
Crossing her fingers behind her back, Clair gave him a sweet smile. "Of course."
"Of course you'll rest, or of course you'll snoop?"
"Rest," she replied pettishly.
Kissing her forehead, he turned and headed toward the third-floor stairs. Looking over his shoulder he called, "It's almost dusk. I'll be back in a couple of hours to escort you to supper."
Clair slipped inside her room, quickly brushing the travel dust off her clothes. She sighed as she glanced at her aunt, who had already taken off her cloak and bonnet. "I wish either my maid or yours could have made the trip with us."
"You know Karla had that nasty toothache and Pam's baby was running a fever," Lady Mary replied.
Removing her bonnet, Clair dropped it on a delicate chair with pale pink flowers. "The earl's butler told me he would send a maid up later to help us dress." Unlatching her valise, she pulled her silver comb and brush set out and began brushing the tangles in her waist-length hair. "I thought it odd that the earl wasn't here to greet us," she said.
"His butler said he would return shortly. Some emergency with one of the tenants."
Hmm, Clair mused. "Nonetheless, I guess I shouldn't look a gift wolf in the mouth."
"What was that, dear?" Lady Mary asked, straightening from taking off her boots.
"Nothing much. Just a thought." Clair finished brushing her hair.
Lady Mary surveyed her niece with a critical eye. There was no doubt about it: Clair looked different, more confident, and unfortunately more secretive. "Is there anything you would like to talk to me about?" she probed, hoping Clair would confide in her about a relationship with the baron.
Clair shook her head, setting out her toilette articles. "No." She couldn't tell her aunt about Ian yet. It was too new, too personal—and besides, she knew exactly what her aunt would do. She would be married before she could say, "In a pig's eye."
Although Clair longed to talk with her aunt, she knew deep down that she could not take the bridal veil just yet. She and Ian had to resolve their differences concerning her research and studies. Ian had to accept her as she was and would always be: as a scientific Frankenstein to the blissful end, even after marriage. Though she knew many women lost their identities when entering the married state, Clair would not allow that to happen.
She grimaced and tied her hair back in a long braid. She loved Ian Huntsley with all her heart. She just had to bring him around to her way of thinking. He was only a man. They weren't as astute as females. They weren't as determined as women, and they certainly weren't as smart. Still, he was her man. She sighed. That part of her body, which had truly been untouched until a few nights before, was throbbing. Her blood was on fire. Her breasts were aching. She was looking forward in a totally unladylike manner to discovering more of Ian's expertise in lovemaking.
Glancing out the corner of her eye at her aunt, who was slipping into her bedrobe, Clair mused that she and Ian stood little chance of being alone together. Not with everything working against them.
Sensing her niece's restlessness, Lady Mary asked, "I take it you are undertaking your search now?"
Clair nodded.
"Be careful. Remember the story about that silly young girl who was always running around in that dreadful red cloak."
"Red Riding Hood?"
"Yes, dear. That's the one."
"Your point, Auntie?" Clair questioned, her hand on the doorknob.
"Well, dear, she got eaten!"
Clair kissed her aunt's cheek. "I'll be fine." Then she slipped out the door.
In the hall outside she checked to see if anyone was about. Good, she thought cheerfully. She was alone. Hurrying down three doors, she came to the earl's chamber, a fact that she had learned earlier by questioning the footman. Since Asher wasn't in at the moment, it seemed the perfect time to search his room.
Slipping inside, Clair took note of the deep burgundy hues in which the chamber was decorated. They surprised her. She thought a werewolf would be more comfortable in earth tones such as brown and green. Meticulously she made her search, finding nothing, and was just about to slip out the door when she heard the sound of the earl's voice in the hall.
Stifling a curse, Clair hurried over to the large plush drapes. She slid behind them just as the door opened and someone stepped inside.
Asher walked into his bedchamber, giving it a quick glance as Wilder trailed behind him. He swore as he noticed the pair of delicate green shoes barely visible under the drapes. She's at it again, he thought with wry amusement. Clair was on the hunt, and she hadn't been in his home for more than an hour.
Asher started unbuttoning his coat, while Wilder lounged against the wardrobe. "Asher, it's just a speck of dirt on your sleeve. I don't see why you have to change the jacket," the second vampire complained.
"I want to look my best for Clair," Asher answered with a sly smile. Here was a chance to advance his cause, the sinful seduction of Clair Frankenstein.
Wilder stared at him, stunned. "You truly care for that freakish woman?"
Asher slid his jacket off and reached for another. "Of course. Clair is a lovely lady. She's a special lady who has quite taken my heart."
Wilder scowled. "You're insane, that's what you are. She's a Frankenstein and would tell—"
Asher interrupted and hurried him out of the room before Wilder could reveal who and what they were. Still, all in all, Asher patted himself on the back. He would have scored quite a few points in pursuit of Clair's seduction.
Intrigued by what she'd heard Asher reveal, Clair nevertheless breathed a great sigh of relief when he left. Hurrying out of the room, Clair thanked her lucky stars. How embarrassing it would have been if Wilder had spotted her in the earl's boudoir. It would have been another humiliating scene to haunt her. The Honorable Christopher Wilder would have thought her a reprehensible Peeping Tom. Of course, he would have been wrong. She was merely a dedicated, hardworking scientist with an inquisitive mind.