The fierce words sent a chill down Sebastian's spine. That was the one thing he could not allow. He swiftly lifted his gaze to study her glittering eyes.
"What did he do to you, Amelia?"
"He heard the Watch approaching and before I could stop him, he had pulled out a scarf and left it upon the dead body."
"What manner of scarf?"
The dark eyes glistened with tears. "One that I had given to William for his birthday. It has his name embroidered upon it."
Sebastian sat back on his heels. Blessed Nefri. Drake had clearly known precisely where to strike. This maiden would give up everything, including her own soul, if it would save her brother from the gallows.
"I see," he muttered.
Her shoulders trembled as she battled to control her chaotic emotions. "I dared not attempt to retrieve the scarf. If they had spotted me, it would only have made them certain William was guilty."
Gently he reached for the forgotten glass of brandy and set it aside, and then, careful not to startle her, he grasped her cold hands in the warmth of his own.
"You did right, Amelia."
A lone tear slid down her pale cheek. "Did I? Once the Watch discovers that scarf they will come for my brother. I knew that I could not stop them this time. They would take him away and there was nothing I could do."
Sebastian squeezed her fingers, fiercely regretting the fearful misery etched upon her countenance. At the moment he would have gladly thrashed Drake Ramone. And Nefri as well, for ever having forced Amelia into such danger.
"But you did do something," he said softly. "You came to me."
She glanced briefly about the shadowy library, as if not quite certain what had prompted her to flee so hastily to his home. Silently he willed his own strength to bolster her flagging courage.
"I did not know where else to turn. I simply packed a few belongings and told Mrs. Benson to inform anyone who might call that William and I left London yesterday to visit my parents."
"Quite clever of you, my dear," he assured her.
"But now what?" With an effort she attempted to gather her badly shattered nerves. "We cannot simply remain here forever."
Quickly rising to his feet, Sebastian firmly tugged her hands until she was standing before him.
With great care he wrapped his arms about her and rested his cheek upon the top of her hair.
He deeply disliked seeing her so weary and frightened. He preferred his brave, proud Amelia with the flashing dimples and stubborn determination.
"That will not be necessary, I assure you, my dear," he soothed in low tones. "For tonight just know that you are safe."
A shudder raced through her as she laid her head against his chest. "Yes."
He breathed in deeply of her fresh, tantalizing scent. She felt small and dangerously fragile pressed next to his much larger frame, but it was somehow... right. As if he had just been made complete in a manner he had never before comprehended.
For long moments he simply held her close, marveling at the golden warmth swirling through his body. A warmth that had nothing to do with lust, or the thrill of a hunter who had captured his prey. This tender heat was far more powerful. And far more dangerous.
He thrust aside the disturbing notion.
"I will protect you, Amelia," he swore, his arms instinctively tightening. "That I promise you."
She tilted her head back to look into his darkened eyes. "Sebastian?"
"Just relax," he urged. "You do not have to be strong now. Do you want more brandy?"
"No." She regarded him for a long moment before uneasily wetting her lips. "Sebastian, I want.. . no, I need the truth. I cannot bear the horrible uncertainty any longer."
Sebastian regarded her warily. He had known from the moment that she had revealed her
knowledge of Drake that soon enough she would question his own purpose in London. She was too intelligent not to realize there had to be some connection.
And yet, he still found himself hesitating.
He told himself it was because he feared that she would no longer trust him. That perhaps she might flee from him and expose herself to even more danger.
But he knew that was not the entire truth.
The fear ran much deeper. And perilously close to his heart.
"What truth?" he at last managed to inquire in husky tones.
"Who are you?"
Chapter Nine
Sebastian discovered himself floundering beneath her serious gaze. How the blazes did he answer such a question?
That he was a scholar? A student of philosophy who until the past few weeks had preferred to observe life from a distance rather than tossing himself in the messy business? That he was an immortal vampire? A dark, passionate monster who could destroy her with ridiculous ease?
Or that he was a gentleman who was growing increasingly enchanted with her sweetness?
In the end he made a cowardly attempt to prolong the inevitable.
"I have not lied to you, Amelia," he said in careful tones. "I am truly Sebastian St. Ives."
A faint frown tugged at her brows. "But you have revealed nothing else."
"What do you wish to know?"
Her gaze searched his face, as if seeking to discern whether he could be trusted or not.
"You will answer my questions?"
"To the best of my ability."
There was a long pause before she firmly pulled herself from his grasp and crossed her arms protectively about her waist. Sebastian experienced a pang of loss without her warmth next to him. With an effort he battled the urge to swoop forward and return her to where she obviously belonged. Per-haps it would be for the best not to have his head clouded with the passion she always inspired.
"You know Mr. Ramone?"
He gave a reluctant nod of his head. "For a very long time."
"Did you follow him to London?"
"I did," he admitted.
She sucked in a steadying breath and he could feel the struggle being waged within her heart.
She had said that she needed the truth, but Sebastian realized that deep within her she dreaded what that truth might mean.
Perhaps she already suspected that he was not precisely what he pretended to be.
"Did you follow him because you suspected that he was a vampire?" she demanded in commendably steady tones.
"Because I knew that he was dangerous and needed to be watched," Sebastian hedged.
She tested his vague words, clearly not satisfied with his brief explanation.
"Is that what you do? Hunt vampires?"
He swallowed a rather hollow urge to laugh at her absurd accusation. Whatever her lovely sense of wit, he was quite certain that she would fail to find the humor in the situation.
"Not at all," he assured her. "As I said, I am a scholar, nothing more."
"But..."
"Amelia," he swiftly broke into her confusion. "Following Mr. Ramone was only part of the reason that I traveled to London."
She stilled, seemingly caught off guard by his confession. Once again her tongue peeked out to dampen her lips, revealing the unsettled nerves that she was so desperately attempting to disguise.
"What was the other part?"
He took a cautious step closer to her. He wanted to he nearby because of the very real possibility that she might suddenly feel the need to bolt.
"You," he said softly.
Her eyes widened in shock. "Me? Why?"
"I knew that you possessed the amulet."
A gasp echoed through the air as Amelia hastily clutched the amulet about her neck. She did not even seem aware of the protective motion, although Sebastian noted it with a sense of satisfaction. Amelia might not understand the power of the Medallion, but she was clearly not willing to hand it over.
Most reassuring.
"You desire my necklace?" she demanded.
"Be at ease, Amelia." He lifted a comforting hand. "I do not covet the amulet as does Mr.
Ramone. My only interest is ensuring that it does not fall into his hands."
She continued to eye him warily, her fingers still tightly gripping the Medallion.
"How could you possibly have known that I possessed the amulet?"
He carefully considered his response. Blast, but he felt as if he were waltzing through a quagmire. One misstep could ruin his tenuous relationship with this woman forever.
"I was told it was given to you."
"By the Gypsy?" She frowned, then gave a pained shake of her head. "No, Mr. Ramone claimed that she was not a Gypsy at all, but a vampire."
The brief but revealing display of her confused vulnerability struck fiercely at Sebastian's heart. Standing there in the thin muslin nightrail with her tousled raven curls, she appeared to be little more than a child. Far too young and fragile to bear the burdens she had been forced to shoulder.
Worst of all, he had no notion of how to make any of this easier to endure.
Not when he was destined to cause her even more grief.
He winced before grudgingly squaring his should ders. He could avoid the unwelcome revelations no longer.
"Nefri," he said in clipped tones.
"Yes," she agreed slowly. "That was the name that he gave her."