Stealing Magic (Vampire Primes) (3 page)

None of my business
, she thought, and held out the tray to the women. The blond took a glass, the dark one waved Grace off. Grace gladly moved to other guests, eager to be away from the woman’s disturbed aura.

Dawn was approaching before she wearily made her way back to the main house. She was so tired she forgot about the secret passage until she was climbing the manor’s back staircase up to the maid servants’ dormitory in the attic. But an image of Lord Julien lounging naked on a soft bed, a red satin sheet barely covering his nether parts came into her tired thoughts to remind her of her assignment.

Tease,
she thought, and imagined a masculine chuckle in her mind.

She stifled a yawn and went back down to the second floor to look for the secret entrance to the hidden passage.

Chapter Four

She would come soon. Julien felt the maid’s approach with all his being. She had responded to his suggestion—not a telepathic order. The choice to come to his room was hers, even if he had tried to persuade her with a sensual image.

It was a promise, he told himself. He wanted her as herself. He would ask rather than command. Nature had made him to be a predator, a ruler. Years of training and practice in the rules and culture of his people had taught him to control himself. He’d come to believe vampires—proper Family and Clan Primes—were more civilized than mortals.

He waited with all the patience he could muster. Instinct told him to open the hidden door and go to her. But that took away her choice, he reminded himself. She was mortal, mentally strong for one of her kind, but without the strength of mind and body of a vampire female. With a female of his own kind, if they were attracted they would hunt each other, strive for dominance, and the mating would be explosive, as violent as the female wished. They would take each other. But mortals were fragile. And his lovely copper-haired girl was an innocent, unlike the other mortals he had bedded. He needed to be careful, gentle.

He could hardly wait.

When he heard a faint sound behind the secret door he was there instantly.

* * *

“What the devil are you doing here?”

The angry shout stopped Grace mid-step. She was glad the darkness of the secret passage hid her as she saw the woman up ahead, silhouetted in the square of light thrown from inside Lord Weaver’s room. The woman’s dark hair tumbled down around her lovely face. She wore a tightly belted black robe, the silk material clinging in a way that suggested she wore nothing underneath.

The woman laughed, bright and bold. “Julien, my dear, everyone knows about McHeath Manor’s secret passages. I’ve used them many a time.”

I bet you have
, Grace thought, with bitterness that had almost nothing to do with her assignment.

“Emmaline, I did not invite you here,” Lord Julien said coldly.

Emmaline ignored his obvious annoyance and stepped past him into the bedroom. The secret door closed and the lock clicked a moment later.

Grace stood rooted to the floor, totally flummoxed. She noticed after a bit that her mouth was hanging open, and closed it with an angry snap. Who did that Emmaline person think she was, waltzing into a man’s room without a by your leave?

Shameless!
Grace thought, even though that had been her exact same intention. She knew she should turn around and march off to her narrow little cot in the attic. But curiosity—and, yes, jealousy—drew her forward. A tiny spot of light at eye level in the wall showed her where the peephole was. Grace hesitated before having a look. Peeking into a person’s private room was wrong, and possibly even sinful—but blast it all, it should be her in there. It should be her in Julien Weaver’s bed. Lady naked-under-her-robe Emmaline had barged in for no better reason than to be pleasured by what she believed was a virile stud of a man. Grace was here to acquire his stud services as well, but for a higher purpose. She wanted to blend his bloodline with her own. She’d been ordered to it, a strong spell had been cast to make sure she was ripe and fertile. The spell would only last so long. She had to have her way with Lord Julien Weaver!

She almost stomped her foot in frustration. In fact, her whole body shook with sensual frustration. Her insides ached with need. Need for the fine-looking man she’d glimpsed at dinner and who had been in her mind ever since. It wasn’t all about magic. She wanted to taste his lips, know what his body felt like pressed against hers.

She’d been so close to at least being alone in the same room with him. So close yet so far—

Blast it! She was at least going to have a look in to see what she was missing.

She heard the murmuring of voices as she carefully placed her eye at the peephole.

* * *

“Aren’t you pleased to see me?” Emmaline pouted prettily and ran a hand down Julien’s chest.

She grasped his shirt front and drew him closer. The heat of her body, along with the scent of her blood, was exciting, but that was merely the automatic animal reaction of his Primal self. He had long ago learned how to control the vampire instinct that always wanted to take and dominate.

“I am always pleased to see you,” he answered the woman. “But not quite as much as usual here and now.”

She laughed softly, not hearing the danger in his tone.

Her fingers stroked his cheek, traced his lips. “Kiss me,” Emmaline whispered. “I love it when you kiss me.”

Emmaline knew how to arouse him. She certainly knew how to pleasure him.

Not tonight.

When he would have drawn away from her, Emmaline pulled open her robe, grasped his hips, and pressed her nakedness against him. The heat of her body went straight to his cock. His fangs grew.

The gasp which sounded in his mind was not his own.

He couldn’t stop the laugh, or the wave of amused pleasure he sent toward the girl staring in through the peephole. It drove her away in shocked embarrassment, of course. Her presence retreated from his awareness as she fled down the secret corridor.

He must let his copper-haired maid know that his amusement was not at her at all, but because he sensed that she cared what he did, that she was appalled by Emmaline’s erotic boldness, and because she wished she was as bold as the wanton aristocrat clinging to him.

Speaking of which….

Duty before pleasure. He was supposed to be telepathically hunting for a spy among the party guests. He put his fingers on Emmaline’s temples. Her mind was innocent, at least of any crime against the state. Her lust for him almost overwhelmed him.

Her hands roamed over him, opening his shirt, pinching his nipples.

It wasn’t simple carnal lust that filled him. The fire that flashed through Julien was pure hunger, the instinctive raw need for blood charged with female heat.

His fangs sank into the soft, sweet flesh of Emmaline’s shoulder. Tasting her brought him sustenance, giving her climax after climax in exchange.

He would not take this mortal into his bed, not claim her body though that was what Emmaline would remember. Julien did not want the intimacy of sex or sharing his blood with anyone but his lovely copper girl.

Chapter Five

Grace hesitated in the hallway outside Lord Julien Weaver’s guest room. For all her determination to go through with her current plan, her palms were damp with nerves and her heart was racing. She was alone in the hallway, probably the only person on the floor as the guests were currently downstairs at breakfast. Even if anyone saw her loitering by the door, who took any notice of a servant? She still carried a metal pail and other implements for cleaning the ashes of last night’s fire from the bedroom grate.

This is no time for cowardice, she told herself. Onward into the breach—was that Shakespeare? Nothing ventured, nothing gained—that was certainly Granny McCoy.

She wiped her hands on her dull black skirt, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward. She gave a light tap on the door for form’s sake then turned the brass knob and went inside.

The room was dark, there being no windows on this side of the house. This was because of the secret passage, Grace knew, but there was also an ancient marble frieze taken from Greek ruins across the front of the house which was the official excuse for the lack of windows. It was supposed to be great art, but she didn’t see how naked men on horseback fighting each other was artistic. Fighting on horseback while naked just wasn’t practical, or comfortable.

Or safe
.

Grace fought to suppress a giggle at the thought.

She closed the door behind her and squinted into the dimness. She was in. Now all she had to do was wait for his lordship to return. Not the most clever plan, perhaps, but there it was. Perhaps she would be waiting naked in his bed—but it would be many hours before the vampire returned from his revels among the aristocrats. What was she supposed to do until then? Besides, as tired as she was he might find her sprawled out and snoring, and that wasn’t very seductive, was it?

It was a pity she hadn’t snagged a book from the library so she could light a lamp and read.

At least she could light a lamp, or three. Grace made the rounds of the room doing this, then stood in the center of the floor, ankle deep in a thick Turkey carpet, and looked around at the luxurious surroundings. The large bed was of ornately carved dark wood, the bed clothes and hangings were in shades of deep red. Grace sighed. It was not a good color for her to be naked on.

Black would be perfect.

The thought made Grace blush.

Best not to think about what she must do, but this would be difficult. She hefted her pail. She might as well clean out the ashes in the grate and tidy up everything else while she awaited her—fate. She started to kneel before the fireplace.

A hand touched her shoulder. “Don’t.”

A thumb caressed the side of her throat. The fiery pleasure this touch sent through her almost caused Grace to continue sinking to the floor. Lord Julien’s hands clasped her elbows, kept her from falling, drew her to her feet. He stood close to her; the warmth of his body against her back permeated her.

“Oh, my….” she breathed, and was filled with utter panic when he drew her even closer. His breath brushed against her ear. It smelled of cinnamon. His scent was bay rum. And male.

“You could make a girl faint,” she heard herself say.

“That wouldn’t do either of us much good, now would it, copper girl?”

His voice was deep. It was velvet and night. Had she heard it before? It sounded familiar, but she didn’t think—

In her head. She’d heard him in her head.

The realization filled her with outrage, which she knew was ridiculous, even as she demanded, “Did you make me come here?”

“I waited for you, hoping you would come,” he said. “I wanted you to come to me, but I didn’t call. Not consciously. I did hide in the shadows to surprise you.”

“I was surprised all right.”

In his arms was where she was supposed to be, needed to be. Planned to be. Coercion was hardly an issue.

But his touch was so—much more than she expected. Her fear of losing herself—her soul as well as her body—to him was sudden. It was a temptation as well as a terror. She wanted to run. She didn’t want to—

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

“You know that’s not true. My lord,” she added, since, after all, this was a masquerade about a noble and a housemaid. She had to keep that in mind.

* * *

Julien enjoyed the sound of her voice. It was rich and deep for a woman’s, with the hint of the Scottish Highlands in it. He wanted to hear more.

“What’s your name, sweet copper girl? Shall I call you Penny?”

“Grace,” she said. She didn’t offer more than her given name. Perhaps she thought he needed to earn the rest, if he wanted to.

He chuckled. “You are grace itself.” He kissed the back of her neck, felt the delicious shiver go through her. The heat from her body warmed him. Her scent swirled around him. Her presence seduced him. Oh, yes, he wanted to learn more.

She gave a sarcastic snicker. “All right, perhaps that wasn’t the cleverest thing I’ve ever said,” he agreed. “What if I said I want to kiss all your freckles until you are mad with passion?”

Her head went up proudly, and banged him slightly in the chin.

“I would say that you are taking this a bit fast, my lord,” she said. Her thought was,
Not that I would much mind.

“So I am,” he said. He turned Grace to face him, and looked her in the eye. He was aware of her mental shields automatically coming up to block any deep intrusion from him. “Why did you ask if I’d called you to me?”

She blinked, then continued to hold his gaze. “You have the gift,” she said. “You know how to use it. Most who have it can charm, twist people to do their bidding, think themselves in control of every situation. Few know what it is they’re really doing. Which is just as well,” she added. “The gift should be a secret thing shared only with those of us burdened with it.”

So, she knew he was psychic and was aware of her own abilities, but she could have no inkling he was a vampire.

“You see it as a burden rather than a strength, pretty Grace?”

“There are more of the ungifted than there are of us, as you well know,” she said. “It is best to be cautious about who we tell and careful in how we use it.”

“So very true, my dear.”

“We hide in shadows and keep secrets. But we always recognize each other, don’t we, my lord?”

He nodded. “Your secrets are safe with me, Grace.”

Her enigmatic smile rivaled the Mona Lisa’s.

He could do nothing but lean forward to kiss those charming lips, but she backed out of his grasp.

Not very far. But she now held her bucket of cleaning supplies in front of her like a shield.

“If it’s a wicked girl you’re looking for, my lord, there’s a selection of them up at the dower house.” She eyed him in a stern way, although her head was tilted charmingly to one side. “Or, I’m certain the lady who was with you last night—”

“Ah, ha!” He pointed at her. “You were watching!”