"And what would you have done?" he gently demanded.
Her expression twisted as she realized that she would have turned away Nefri as a crazed old woman.
"I do not know."
"You would have thought her mad."
She wrapped her arms about her waist. "Now I fear that I am the one who is mad."
"You do not believe me?"
"I do not know what I believe." Her head slowly turned as she glanced about the small, shabby room that no doubt had once brought her comfort. It was a place of security. Or at least it had been. Now she was being asked to believe that there was nowhere that was truly safe. He could not blame her for her reluctance. "I cannot think."
Unable to halt himself, Lucien slid forward, allowing his hands to lightly descend upon her shoulders. He ached to pull her close. To surround her with the strength of his own body.
Instead, he gazed deeply into her wide, troubled eyes.
"I know it is difficult, my dove—"
"No," she sharply interrupted, pulling away to regard him with a startlingly fierce expression.
Caught off guard, Lucien held out his hands in a pacifying motion. Great Nefri, she was as skittish as a newborn colt.
"What?"
"Do not call me that."
His breath caught at her broken tones. He felt as if he had just been slammed in the stomach.
She was so terribly wounded. And he was the cause.
It was not just the unbelievable tale of vampires. Or even the powerful Medallion she wore about her neck. It was the fact that she had allowed him into her heart.
After years of keeping herself aloof from others and avoiding the pain and disappointment she had experienced at the hands of Lord Patten, she had at long last permitted herself to reach out to another.
Now she felt utterly betrayed.
And he had no one to blame but himself, he acknowledged bitterly. Not even Nefri.
It had been his choice to pose as a dandy on the run from his angry cousin. His choice to live beneath Jocelyn's roof. And his choice to seek a closer relationship than necessary to simply protect her.
And all to see her smile.
His expression was pleading as he held out a slender hand. "Jocelyn."
"No." With a shake of her head she backed away, the pain visible upon her face. "I thought you were different. I thought I could believe in you, but you have done nothing but lie to me from the moment you entered my home."
His hand abruptly clenched as it fell to his side. "I came here to protect you."
She gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "And to have a bit of a lark with the poor, scandal-tainted spinster?"
"Stop it, Jocelyn." Indifferent to the flashing danger in her eyes and the stiffness of her frame, Lucien stepped forward and firmly grasped her upper arms. She could insult him to her heart's content. He would readily accept whatever blows she might need to throw. But he would not allow her to belittle herself. "I will admit that I desired to bring a smile to your lips and to ease the bitterness within you. Hardly contemptible motives."
Her mouth Curled at his insistent words. "I do not need your pity, Mr. Valin."
"Good, because pity is the last thing you would ever receive from me," he gritted out, careful to keep his fingers from digging into her soft skin in exasperation. He had done enough damage to this innocent maiden. "I admire you more than any other woman I have ever met. Your kindness, your strength, your ability to take adversity and alter it to something so good. Quite frankly, Miss Kingly, you astonish me."
For a breathless, wondrous moment her expression softened at his words. She even began to sway slightly toward his waiting warmth before she abruptly became rigid beneath his hands. A sudden bleakness returned to the pale features.
"How can I trust anything you say?"
Lucien fiercely held on to the small beacon of hope he had just witnessed. Beneath the pain and confusion, she did still care for him. It had been etched upon her pale features. And now that he was near her, he could feel it beat through her very blood.
Over the past few weeks they had become irrevocably linked to each other. The shimmering bonds of love and affection had been established whether either of them desired to acknowledge them or not.
Perhaps he should have taken more care, he chastised himself. Not only for the tender feelings of poor Jocelyn but for his own peace of mind.
In time Jocelyn might very well put him out of her heart and find another to love. It was the way of humans to be able to love and mate more than once during their short life span. For a vampire, however, such a love came only once. And it endured for all eternity.
Such a thought should be terrifying. He had deliberately avoided such entanglements. To be bound to another was a responsibility he was incapable of accepting.
Oddly, however, he felt nothing but a warm flood of joy at the shimmering golden threads of love that firmly tied him to this woman."I know, Jocelyn, and you know," he said in tones that defied argument. "Deep within you.
You can sense what is in my very soul."
She gave a shake of her head, but there was a hint of uncertainty that flashed through her eyes. He was well aware that the Medallion had given her the power to perceive well beyond her human capabilities.
"That is not possible."
"The Medallion has made it possible," he murmured.
"How?"
He gave careful thought to his words. The last thing he desired was to give her yet another thing to worry over.
"It has altered you," he at last admitted slowly. "You feel things more. You are more sharply aware of your surroundings and able to sense the emotions of others. It is a rare gift for a human."
Thankfully her expression did not tighten with fear. Instead, her full, tempting lips twisted in a rueful fashion.
"If that is true, then why did it not warn me you were a vampire?"
His hand shifted to lightly cup her soft cheek. "But it did. You just chose to ignore what your heart whispered."
"Yes." She heaved a faint sigh. "So once again I was the fool."
Lucien gave an impatient click of his tongue. Clearly she was determined to hold on to her sense of betrayal. At least for the time. He did not entirely blame her, but he did not possess the luxury of indulging her wounded sensibilities. Not while Amadeus continued to lurk in the shadows.
"Jocelyn, I know that you are angry with me, but you must hear what I have to tell you," he said in stern tones.
With a shake of her head she was pulling from his grasp. "I cannot. Not tonight."
He frowned in concern. "You are in danger. The traitors will do whatever they must to gain command of the Medallion."
"Please, Lucien." She held up a hand that visibly trembled. "I can bear no more."
She spoke the truth. Even from a distance he could sense she was holding on by a fragile thread. If he pressed any further, she might shatter beneath the strain and panic. He could not allow her to lose her reason. Not when he had no notion what she might do.
"I am sorry," he said in low tones. "My last desire was to have you hurt by me."
She pressed her hands to her bosom, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "We will talk in the morning."
"Yes." He gave a slow nod. "Good night, my dove."
"Good night."
Lucien watched in silence as she unsteadily made her way from the room. His hands clenched at his sides as he battled his instinctive urge to keep her close to him. He did not want her out of his sight. Not when she was so clearly upset.
What if she bolted during the night?
What if she decided that he was crazed and called for help from Bow Street?
What if she decided to rid herself of the troublesome Medallion and bring an end to her danger?
What if...
The potential for disaster swirled through his mind, but he made no move to follow Jocelyn.
She had promised that they would speak in the morning, and he had to trust her. He owed her that at least.
Instead, he moved to pour himself a measure of the fine brandy. The past half hour had proven to be the most difficult he had ever endured. Not only the realization that he had deeply wounded Jocelyn, but the knowledge that he might have irretrievably destroyed any hope of a future.
With a jerky motion he sipped the smoky spirit, his features stark. Great Nefri. When had he started considering a future with Jocelyn?
Was it when she had confessed her painful rift from her parents? When she had taken him to meet the young maidens she had helped to leave the streets? When he had witnessed her kindness to the poor children in the warehouse? When his lips had first touched her own?
Perhaps it had been the moment he had first entered the house and caught sight of those proud, wounded blue eyes of hers.
Whenever it had occurred, he was a fool.
He had come here to protect her. And more important, to ensure that the traitors did not lay claim to the Medallion.
Those should be his only thoughts until Amadeus was returned behind the Veil and Jocelyn was safe. Everything else would be a distraction that might very well prove to be disastrous.
For all vampires.
Polishing off the last of the brandy, he set the glass aside and moved to extinguish the candles. He had no need of light to keep careful watch through the night, and he knew that Meg would remain awake until she was certain that both he and Jocelyn had sought their beds. She was a servant from the old school, and no one could convince her that a nobly born person could possibly recall locking the door or properly putting out the fires.