Which then begged the question: was it Sara or George who had turned undead?
Or someone else?
Victoria came awake sharply.
She didn’t move, kept her breathing easy and regular, and slitted her eyes a crack. Someone or something was in the bedchamber with her.
The room was all shapes and shades of dark gray, any detail that might be discernable in the predawn light distorted by her narrow view. She’d have to turn her head…
“Good God. You might as well open your eyes, Victoria. A gnat could do a better job feigning sleep than you.”
Victoria’s eyes flew open. She sat up abruptly, her fingers tightening around a stake as she pulled it from beneath the coverlet. She hadn’t slept without one since the night she’d killed Phillip.
“Well, Max. It’s been quite some time since you’ve visited my bedchamber.”
Her voice was rough with slumber, and she wasn’t quite certain why she said such a provocative thing… unless it was because there was nothing else one could say to a man who sneaked into one’s bedchamber in the hours just before dawn.
Particularly a man who’d kissed one against the stone wall of a Roman villa, then had given up his role as a Venator and disappeared without saying good-bye.
Something fluttered deep in her stomach.
He was standing in a dark corner of the room, well in the shadows. It was only his voice that had given him away. None of the windows were open, nor was the door, to indicate how he’d managed to enter.
“I don’t think you’ll need that,” he said, obviously noticing the stake. “Unless it’s become an addition to your nighttime bedchamber activities.”
“What are you doing here?”
He stepped more fully into view. Max was taller than most men, looming over the bed, and he preferred black clothing. Neither factor did much to reveal the details of his form or countenance tonight; he remained an elegant shadow with only the bridge of his long, straight nose outlined by the pale light glazing the window. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Victoria gave an impatient jerk of the stake against the coverlet’s whitework embroidery. “I mean, what are you doing in London? Of course you came to talk to me. What other reason would you have to be in my bedchamber?”
Silence descended and stretched for a moment, then Max replied, his voice smooth, “Perhaps your imagination is a bit stunted.” He shifted, removing his hands from his pockets to cross them over his middle. Victoria realized her heart was thumping hard at the base of her throat. And she was remembering the way he’d kissed her, against that cold, wet stone.
He continued, “Vioget informed me of your find in the park. The vampire attack during the daylight.”
“You’ve spoken to Sebastian?”
“Last night, as a matter of fact. After he left you.” Max shifted, spreading his long-fingered hands to emphasize his words. “A bit of advice, Victoria. Keep away from the windows when entertaining in your bedchamber.”
“I didn’t take you for a voyeur, Max. But perhaps watching is more to your liking than doing.”
Now she saw the gleam of white teeth in a humorless smile. “Mmm… no.” Then the smile faded. “Do you mind covering up a bit? That’s a ghastly-looking gown.”
Victoria looked down and saw that not only had the bedclothes drifted into her lap, but the growing light from the window seemed to shine directly on her and the lavender night rail she wore. The fine lawn material and deep lace trim of the plunging neckline-one of her favorites-hid none of the curves of her torso. “I’m terribly sorry to have offended your fashion sensibilities, Max. I didn’t realize you had any.” She shrugged, pulling the covers up. “But after all, I didn’t invite you into my bedchamber.”
“Quite true. Please accept my deepest gratitude.” He made an insolent bow, leaving her to wonder whether he was thanking her for pulling the bedclothes up to her collarbones, or for not inviting him into her room. “I must also commend your efficiency.”
“My efficiency?”
“From dinner with the newly arrived marquess to… er… nocturnal entertainment in the marchioness’s bedchamber the very same night, and then a move to another bedchamber in a different house the next day. Quite efficient, and much coming and going. Thus I felt it necessary to take precautions that Vioget would be otherwise occupied this evening.” Now she saw a flash of white teeth in the dark. “Far be it for me to cause an interruption.”
“How very accommodating of you, Max. What did you do to Sebastian?”
“Oh, you needn’t fear for the man’s safety. He’s merely on the tail of a woman who, from a distance, bears an astonishing resemblance to you.”
“And what is this woman doing?”
“I’m not quite certain, but I do believe she’s having an assignation in Vauxhall Gardens.” His smile gleamed again. “I don’t think Vioget was pleased.”
Victoria hid her own smile. It would serve Sebastian right to be following a false trail-especially after his blithe announcement in the parlor today, chosen, of course, for timing and audience. “Perhaps now might be a good time to reveal exactly why you’ve made it a point to invade my chamber. But, truly, Max,” she said, her voice softening from the haughty edge she’d adopted. “I am glad to see that you are safe and well. And… of course you must know about Briyani.”
He nodded, and she saw his shoulders relax. “I spoke with Kritanu last night as well.”
“Kritanu too?” Victoria felt a swell of annoyance again.
“Don’t be angry with him,” Max said. “I told him I’d speak with you… and as you’re aware, he’s been otherwise distracted.”
“I notice you don’t defend Sebastian’s lack of communication about your presence in London.”
“In fact, I’m shocked that he didn’t rush to inform you of it, knowing that it would annoy me. He threatened to do so.”
“Your fiancйe is here as well. Did he tell you that?” Even though Max’s engagement to Sara had been a false one-at least, Victoria thought it had been a false one- she’d never been able to resist the urge to needle him about it.
“Vioget didn’t see fit to tell me that-unless he wasn’t aware.”
Victoria shook her head. “He is fully aware, for she and George Starcasset were there when he fairly announced our engagement to my mother this afternoon. And I’m terribly sorry, Max, but it appears you’ve been replaced in her affections by Gwendolyn’s brother George.”
“I’m devastated.”
“I used to feel sorry for the woman, for you made her believe you loved her,” Victoria chided.
“Did I?” Max sounded amused.
“You certainly appeared to be promoting such a conviction when I met you at the home of the Conte Regalado.”She’d come upon a rumpled Max leaving an obvious tкte-а-tкte with Sara.
“That must certainly have made an impression on you, Victoria, for you bring that incident up nearly every time we talk.”
“You looked ridiculous, with your hair mussed and your neck cloth crooked. It was more than obvious what you’d been doing. And will you please do sit down,” Victoria said in exasperation. “Your hovering is quite annoying, and if you don’t, I shall be forced to stand myself-and I daresay you don’t want to be treated to the full sight of my ghastly nightgown.”
He made a sound that could have been a strangled laugh or a cough; but in either case, he took her advice and sat-in the chair farthest from the bed, placing himself back in the shadows. “I daresay I don’t.”
“Now, tell me, why are you in London when you should be running as far from Lilith as possible.”
She actually felt the tension settle back in the room, chilling whatever lightness their banter had brought to bear. “Ah yes… my unfortunate circumstances. We needn’t discuss the banalities of why I came back to this drafty, wet country-but more to the purpose, how I might be of assistance in your current dilemma. The daylight vampire attack.”
Victoria nodded, focusing her attention on that instead of flinging one-sentence barbs back and forth. It did become wearying after awhile, and, truth to tell, she was relieved to see Max. If only he didn’t have to be so prickly. And arrogant. And rude. “There was another one today.”