The Reluctant Miss Van Helsing (18 page)

Returning
to the library, Ian found Asher, a study in icy reflection, staring silently out the large bay windows. Even with his world in turmoil, the Earl was still the best-dressed vampire about town. Yet, below that facade was a smoldering rage that was ready to burst into a white-hot inferno.

Ian wondered if Asher would suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune, or if he would take up fangs against his sea of troubles? He sincerely hoped not.

Warily Ian seated himself at his large mahogany desk. Asher glanced over at him. The vampire’s face gave no indication of the violence of his feelings, but he stiffly raised a hand, growling, his eyes glowing with a strange bluish red light.

“Say nothing about where I was staked,” he said. “In fact, a blood oath of secrecy might be best.”

Ian stifled a grin. He was no fool. To get staked where he had must be mortifying for the arrogant earl. He couldn’t resist a little ribbing. “Perhaps you’re slipping, old man. You might want to practice your lovemaking techniques if this is what you get in the end.”

Asher turned, his eyes ablaze. “You know better than that! Miss Jane is simply a pain—in the arse. She’s a menace to polite society and clothing everywhere.”

Ian nodded because he couldn’t help but agree. Jane Van Helsing had certainly put a crimp in this party along with the stake in Asher’s backside. “In this day and age, being found alone with an innocent unmarried female in a state of dishabille is asking for marriage. She’s stuck you both in an unpleasant situation I’m afraid,” he admitted.

Asher’s rage flared, and he was clearly unamused. “Huntsley… take care where you step.”

But Ian had no choice. As host of the house party, he was responsible not only for Asher’s well-being but also Jane’s. “Well… this wasn’t well done, Asher. Miss Paine, besides being a bosom friend to Clair, is a young lady of family. An innocent, unmarried lady. How you two were found… Do I need to speak to you of honor?”

Asher remained silent, his jaw muscles clenched. He glared fiercely at Ian. He wanted to strangle Huntsley with his bare hands. The baron was second, right after Jane Paine.

The thought of Jane made Asher see red; the very idea of her made him cross. The fact that he had longed for the unhinged chit made him want to spout foul curses. She’d never know just how much he wanted to bite her neck and spank her bottom. He was living a nightmare, all courtesy of one crazy girl.

“She’s a madwoman! Running about splashing people with brandy, rambling about spiders, sticking people in the ass with sharp objects! I tell you, Huntsley, she’s just not natural.”

Ian shook his head. Treading cautiously, he said, “Be that as it may, Miss Paine has been severely compromised by you.”

“I was the one who was injured!” Asher snarled. “Talk about ripped clothing, that femme fatale is hell on wheels. Renfield is already quite beside himself.”

Ian arched a sardonic brow. “You speak of your wardrobe, but Miss Paine will be ruined. No man will want to marry her after this.”

Asher snorted. “As if any wanted to before. Huntsley, that calamity-ridden female is safer on the shelf. Bloody damn! Nothing occurred between the two of us. We did not do the deed—and looking back now, I wonder why I was even tempted to tarry with such a demented mortal.”

Ian shook his head. “The world of the living is not unlike the undead one. All society will know of Jane’s ruin in less than a fortnight. It won’t help your reputation any, either. Her family is well-known, and you know how the combined Councils of weres and vampires feel about bringing ourselves into public scrutiny. They will be livid unless you do the honorable thing and marry her.” He reminded Asher, “It was not so long ago that we were all hunted nearly to extinction. We must blend in with society and live our lives like humans, or as humanly as possible. Besides, there is your duty. You have ruined an innocent—”

Asher interrupted harshly, running his fingers through his hair. He began to pace, wincing sharply from the wound in his backside. “She’s no innocent. Potty, insane, deranged, but no innocent. Bah! No innocent wields a stake like that. Or kisses like that, either!”

Ian glared at him. “You know she’s a virgin. And you were trying to get a little taste when you were caught. Honor demands and depends upon your marrying Jane. You were seen in a state of dishabille with her, a respectable lady of good breeding and background, her gown twisted, her breasts half revealed, her lips red and swollen, late at night. You have no choice, Asher, and well you know it. You could escape the scandal by going to the continent if you refuse to do the honorable thing, but the vampire council will hunt you down and imprison you for four hundred years for drawing attention to the otherworldly.”

He waited patiently for Asher to gather his emotions. It was a rare opportunity to observe the earl’s cool facade so crumbled.

“The woman is consistently inconsistent,” Asher complained. “One minute she is kissing me madly, passionately—the next she is planting a foot of wood in my ass!” He banged his fists on Ian’s massive walnut desk, and Ian held his breath, hoping it could withstand the vampire’s wrath.

The Earl of Wolverton continued his tirade. “Her mind must be the size of a chestnut to do what she did. Besides, the feral female has a foul temper. I do not want to marry her.

“I don’t even know her people,” he raged on. “Her heritage. I am a bloody earl, for pity’s sake. I am a master vampire with a lineage longer than all my titles. I am descended from kings both mortal and immortal.” Asher roared, his fist clenched high in the air as he shook it. “I shall not marry beneath me. Most especially not a madwoman!”

Ian debated telling Asher of Jane’s lineage, but decided to wait, knowing he would only be pouring fuel on the fire.

“Marriage is the only route,” he said instead, hoping Asher would agree. If the arrogant vampire refused, then Major Van Helsing would surely call him out. The attention would be disastrous. The eyes of the ton would be focused on the supernatural world, and one mistake could mean a revelation that could result in full-scale panic. And mortals always tried to kill what they feared. It would be a war—costly, bloody and devastating to men and monsters alike. “There is no other option. Too many eyes saw you tonight.”

Asher nodded, his expression brooding. He said, “I, who have spent hundreds of years as a connoisseur of the beautiful, will be shackled to a female only slightly above ordinary.” In his anger, he forgot the sweet taste of her kiss and her mouthwatering breasts. No matter how lush, no tit was worth this tat. And her to-die-for neck was little added incentive.

Ian shrugged. “All cats are gray in the dark,” he proposed.

Asher stopped pacing and dropped restlessly into the large Louis XIV chair in front of the desk. A loud groan escaped him. He had forgotten his injury. His pride and backside now smarting, he replied, “When I want to bed a cat, I’ll let you know.”

Then reality hit him smack-dab in the face. He wanted to scream to the heavens, for fate was quite unfair. As the wily werewolf said, honor was honor, and something no earl or master vampire could ignore. Especially with the Council watching. Being sentenced to a forced sleep for five hundred years wasn’t something he wanted to experience. Besides, if he married Jane, with her mortal lifespan, she would only inconvenience his life temporarily.

Clenching his fists, Asher rested his forehead upon them. “I am going to marry a mousy madwoman—a back-staking shrew.”

“Tame her,” Ian suggested.

“She will cost me a fortune in clothing. And she’s not right in the head. Or maybe she just has a morbid fear of kissing,” Asher joked to himself sarcastically. Rubbing his backside, he continued following that train of thought. “I fear there’s more to this story than meets the eye. She must know I am a vampire, else why use a wooden stake on me? It was the Van Helsing model four, by the way,” he added, just to impress Baron Huntsley with his houseguest’s perfidy.

Ian knew the time had come, and he was not looking forward to what he had to reveal. He only hoped Asher didn’t believe in biting the messenger.

“Don’t give me that look. What is it?” Asher asked.

Ian coughed slightly, trying to decide just how to repair Clair’s omission. “I myself only recently discovered that Miss Jane knows what you are. She was sent here to destroy you.”

Asher’s fangs flashed in the candle light, giving his handsome face a devilish look. “Because I am the Master Vampire of London?” he asked.

Ian answered carefully, weighing his options. “It’s not so much what you are at this point, but who they think you are.” If Asher attacked, he would feint to the right and roll backward towards the hearth. Hanging above the fireplace was his Welsh ancestors’ sword. He didn’t think he would have to kill the vampire, merely threaten him.

“Who? The suspense is killing me,” Asher retorted. “And I’ve had enough of people trying to kill me tonight.”

Ian leaned back in his chair, still watchful. “Dracul. The Prince of Darkness.”

Asher fought appalled surprise. “Dracul? Has he come to Town? Here to London? That would be a disaster of epic proportions, most especially for me.”

“He holds no love for you, same clan or not,” Ian agreed.

Asher took a deep breath. Count Dracul was debauched, deadly and a malignant presence to be avoided whenever possible. Asher and the count had been at odds for over a hundred years. “Yes. Our enmity is long standing. Who thinks I am he? And why?”

Ian wearily ran his hands through his hair. This long day’s journey into night was getting longer and trickier. “Certain people, because of certain information. However, Jane is now convinced that you aren’t Count Dracul. I daresay she will convince her father of the fact. Especially if you are marrying into the family to save her good name.”

Asher’s eyes bored holes into Ian. “And just who is her father?” His tone was full of chilling menace.

Placing his hands on the desk, tensing his body for an attack, Ian replied, “Her father is Major Edward Van Helsing.”

The breath hissed out of Asher, a low growl vibrating from his throat. The vampire’s eyes narrowed to ice blue slits, blazing as they were.

Dracul was a nefarious foe, but the Van Helsings were detestable enemies of every vampire in the world. The family were cunning, ruthless and fanatical about executing members of the undead, and sometimes demons too. Although Asher had no truck with demons, he had lost a few vampire friends over the centuries to a vile Van Helsing stake. It was tough to consider Jane was one of those.

Ian’s eyes narrowed also. He sat in preternatural stillness, appraising the situation. Tensed, he waited for Asher’s rage either to dissipate or escalate. He was at a disadvantage: Although he was a werewolf, he could only change form on nights when the moon was full. He was much stronger several days before and after a full moon, but only slightly stronger than a human at other times. This was one of those other times.

“How long have you known?” Asher ground out, leaping to his feet. Having forgotten his injury, he let out a startled gasp.

Stiffly he turned his back on Baron Huntsley and ferociously paced the room. He was furious enough to destroy anything in his path, not to mention still wounded by Glair’s betrayal. He snarled, “I’m furious enough to throw back my head and howl to the heavens, and I’m not even a werewolf!” Only centuries of aristocratic breeding and vampire stoicism kept him from doing so.

“I only learned who Jane is tonight,” Ian reminded him.

“And Clair?” Asher’s question was edged with fury.

“They have been friends for quite some time,” Ian admitted.

“So, your wife invited a vampire murderer here to your estate with me as a guest as well,” Asher said. He turned his face away, hiding the intense pain he felt, a taste of bile so bitter he thought he would choke. Asher had loved Clair and she had betrayed him. It was unforgivable, even if it was most likely one of her preposterous plans turned upside down.

Ian could sense the waves of hurt. Though he didn’t like Asher’s interest in his wife, he felt a stirring of pity. He explained, “If it makes you feel any better, Clair was trying to play matchmaker. You see, she had this plan…”

Asher snorted loudly, his expression grim.

“I know,” Ian went on, “Clair and her plans usually go astray. But Clair truly believes that you and Jane are the perfect pair. That you and Jane will find great love together—once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. For an immortal that’s pretty significant.”

“Perhaps she should have told Jane of this plan,” Asher snapped. “Your wife is a menace to society. She is as wildly demented as her friend! They’re two mad hatters, hopping around, creating havoc, pandemonium, mayhem and attempted murder!”

Ian grimaced. He didn’t like slurs on Clair, but this time his wife had outdone herself. When the vampire was right, the vampire was right. “Clair cares for you as a dear friend,” he said. “She would never willingly see you hurt. She only wants your happiness.”

Asher halted abruptly. “I truly think your wife has run mad. I’ll be a pincushion in less than a week. Damnation, Huntsley! My supposed bride-to-be a bloodthirsty Van Helsing, the scourge of vampire kind?”

“Not after she marries you. She will be an Asher, the Countess of Wolverton.”

Asher’s usual savoir faire having long deserted him, he violently shook his head. “What an utterly horrifying thought. I shall wear mourning clothes for the rest of my life.” If he had to marry the treacherous, conniving, vicious vixen, he would make her pay dearly for as long as she lived—which in the mood he was in right now, would be until just before sunrise.

“A wife’s duty is to her husband,” Ian remarked, “and Jane is a stickler for duty. She intensely disliked being a vampire hunter, but the major left her no choice.”

Again, Asher shook his head. More slowly this time. “A Van Helsing by any other name would still be a Van Helsing.”

Ian waited, silent.

“I cannot marry her. I’ll be the laughing stock of vampires everywhere. A master vampire married to a bloody butcherous Van Helsing?”