Bound to Blackwood (15 page)

They looked back incredulously before Roarke resumed his furtive search around the saloon.

“Sir, it is unwise to tempt fate. We do not say that word here,” Bay said, almost pleading.

“Lena, correct me if I am wrong, but Fallen do not have our superior hearing,” Thorn asked, ignoring Bay’s protests.

“They do not, My Lord,” Lena agreed.

In all her two hundred plus years, Thorn had never heard her call him her anything. As his blood roared around his head like a thing possessed, he found he liked it. He liked it very much.

Mind on the game, Thorn.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “And Lena, are Fallen usually summoned by the mere mention of their name?”

“They are not, My Lord,” Lena replied.

Good God!
She said it again. If this carried on, it could get really embarrassing. He knew Lena was just playing her role in front of strangers who needed to hear her address her King properly. Judging by its reaction, his body thought otherwise.
 

Lena addressing him as “My Lord” was like a siren song. It called to the very core of him with a heat and power Thorn didn’t know existed. And just like a siren’s song, he knew it meant trouble. The hard length currently pressing itself against his fly clearly disagreed.

He shook his head in an attempt to focus as he watched Lena raise a questioning eyebrow at him. Roarke and Bay still stared at him like expectant children. “One last thing, Steward. Are there any Fallen in the vicinity?”

Roarke and Bay dropped their jaws in astonishment. Their expressions only intensified as Lena answered. “Not within fifty miles, My Lord.” Lena smiled as Thorn nodded his approval.

Honestly, he was amazed at her talent. He knew she had an extra-ordinary talent for tracking Fallen. He did not know she could track them over such distances. The conviction in her voice when she answered his question left no room for doubt.

“So you see, Gentlemen, we are perfectly safe,” Thorn said to the still gaping civilians. “Now, Roarke, would you be so kind as to tell us what happened to your father?”

“He died nearly two hundred years ago, Sir,” Roarke whispered, despite all of Thorn’s reassurances.

“Do go on,” he encouraged, though his patience was wearing thin.

“There was a lot of Fallen activity here then. It started slowly, but in the May, we were almost under voluntary house arrest. They were everywhere, Sir. Not all at the same time, they kept coming and going, you see, but there had to have been at least twenty of them.”

Not exactly an army. To civilians it probably felt like a siege however.

“What were they doing?” Lena asked.

“Well Ma’am, we were never really sure. They stayed at the inn and had a good supply of horses with them. One day, at the beginning of June, there was quite a bit of commotion. Father said he could sense a new presence. He was convinced it was another Vampire, but Mother thought otherwise.”

“How so?” Thorn asked.

“Well it was the middle of the day, Sir. A Vampire wouldn’t be moving around in the middle of the day, would they?” Roarke replied.

“Not voluntarily,” Lena said quietly and Thorn shot her a look of disapproval. He didn’t want to give the two civilians any further cause for alarm.

“Anyway, Father couldn’t shake the feeling. In the evening, Mother relented. She said she could feel it too, but she still wasn’t convinced it was a Vampire. Father told us he was honour bound to find out. He said if a Vampire was moving around in the day, then they must be in trouble and our coven must offer assistance.”

“Honourable indeed,” Thorn agreed.

“So, your father went to investigate?” Lena asked impatiently.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Roarke replied. The bitter smell of sadness bloomed in Thorn’s nostrils as he watched Roarke’s eyes close; he was no doubt remembering the ill-fated night in far more graphic detail than he had shown Lena and himself.

“Did he go alone?” Thorn asked, desperate to keep Roarke on track.

“No, Sir. My brother, Crane, went with him. He’s older than I am, so it was only natural.”

Thorn assumed the brother survived, since Roarke hadn’t mentioned him before. Roarke’s emotions changed when he spoke of his brother. Thorn could sense respect, but not love. He thought it strange. Love was the first and strongest thing he felt whenever he thought of Jett or Soraya. He couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“I stayed with my mother to protect the coven, should anything go wrong.” Roarke continued.

“Of course,” Thorn replied.

“Well, Father and Crane went to the inn. They dematerialised in the stables to the rear. Crane said the feeling that another Vampire had entered our territory was stronger the nearer they got. Anyway, as they approached the groom's’ entrance, a woman came barrelling outside. Nearly knocked them down, Crane said.”

“A woman?” Thorn asked.

Roarke shook his head. “Vampire, Sir.”

“Who was she?” Lena's voice was shrill.

“We don’t know, Ma’am,” Roarke replied solemnly.

“Why not? What happened?” Her voice had gone gruff. Thorn glanced at her, willing her to moderate her tone.

“She just carried on running. Crane said Father went after her, but she wouldn’t stop.” Roarke lowered his eyes as he finished and Thorn caught a new wave of sadness rolling off him.

“That’s when they attacked,” Roarke whispered.

Bay placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, and shook his head. “You really ought to speak to Crane, Sir.” Bay said.

“You may be right,” Thorn conceded.

Roarke’s head snapped to attention. “My mother would be honoured to host you, Sir. Indeed, you would be most welcome. Though, I cannot understand what my father’s death has to do with anything. It was so long ago.”

Lena looked impatient as Thorn glanced at her. Her brow knitted and he watched, mesmerised, as the corners of her mouth twitched, no doubt in preparation for the brusque words about to break free. Her frown deepened and she shifted her gaze towards him. He didn’t know what she saw when she looked at him, but her eyes widened as if she was surprised.

Her beautiful midnight blue eyes met his head on and Thorn gulped. He actually gulped, realising that this was the first time she’d met his gaze all night. He was sure she’d been avoiding making eye contact, he just couldn’t fathom the why of it.

“Sir?” Roarke said, wrenching Thorn’s attention from Lena.

“My Steward and I are on a mission.” Thorn said, whilst still considering his answer. He was wary of saying too much to a civilian, but judging by Roarke and Bay’s confused expressions, he needed to say something more.

It was Lena who spoke next. “Your King and I are investigating a crime that happened many years ago. We’re here to fill in some of the blanks in our information. It would be useful to know more about your father’s death so we can build a better picture of events at that time.”

Thorn hid his smirk behind his hand. She had reminded the pair, in no uncertain terms, that Thorn was their King without resorting to ripping their heads off. He never knew she could be so diplomatic. He did know, however, that it had probably cost her a great deal of effort, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“We would be honoured to be of service, Sir,” Bay said enthusiastically before nudging his friend. Roarke nodded violently at the prompt.

A young maid in a black pinafore and white apron greeted Thorn, Lena, Roarke and Bay at the door of the Bowman Coven.

House Bowman, was to Lena’s surprise, a reasonably modern home. Mock Tudor in style, it was no doubt designed to fit in with its surroundings, but it couldn’t be more than a few years old. Regardless of its age, it was obvious the owner had a meticulous eye for detail, because, even in the small entrance hall, Lena spotted several tastefully arranged, original, period pieces.

Lena watched the maid curiously as she curtsied. The woman did not make eye contact with them. It was probably just as well. She could sense the anxiety coming from her and Lena had no doubt that the poor girl would hyperventilate if she realised who had accompanied the Master home.

“Rose, would you ask my mother to join us in the sitting room," Roarke instructed, before guiding Lena and Thorn towards the rear of the house.

The sitting room was just as well appointed as the entrance hall, though, as she plonked herself down on the elegant looking couch, Lena discovered it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as it looked. Thorn took the seat beside her, the low level lighting casting shadows across his broad features. Bizarrely, the lack of light made his golden eyes seem even brighter than usual.
Just what I need!
 

Roarke and Bay take seats on the sofa opposite, but Lena's gaze kept returning to Thorn’s profile, stealing glances at him from underneath her lashes like some pathetic youngling. Pathetic as it was, she was still watching him when the door burst open announcing the arrival of the House Bowman
Maluth
.
 

Larissa Bowman was a tall, blonde, ferocious looking woman. She swept into the room like a Queen. Her house may be newly built, but she obviously hadn’t moved with the times that much; her long black gown was reminiscent of a medieval princess and her hair was arranged in some sort of elaborate up-do. She ignored Lena and Thorn, instead narrowing her eyes at her son. All three males sprang to their feet to greet her, yet she focused solely on Roarke. She did not look happy.

“Perhaps you have forgotten, Roarke, but I am
Maluth
here. I do not expect to be summoned within my own House.”
 

“I apologise, Mother” Roarke said quietly as he kissed her outstretched hand. “Something very important…”

“I will be the judge of that,” she interrupted, her voice harsh and shrill.

Lena hid a snigger behind a cough. She hadn’t liked Larissa Bowman on sight. Nothing in the last few seconds had changed her opinion and she couldn’t wait for Larissa to acknowledge her son’s guests.

Larissa was lucky Thorn was the male he was. Had Lena been in the King’s shoes, she had no doubt in her mind that she would have reduced Larissa to a pile of ash for her lack of respect and proprietary. As it was, Thorn looked more amused than anything.

The other woman was half-way through a dramatic sweep of her dress when she stopped dead. Lena watched the realisation dawn in the woman's storm-cloud eyes, but Larissa was shrewd; she didn't let a hint of any further emotion reach her stern face. Her son stepped in, rescuing his Mother from further embarrassment.
More's the pity.
 

“
Maluth
Larissa of House Bowman,” Roarke said, “may I present Lena of House Blackwood, Steward of the Watch.”

Larissa span on her heels to face her and simply nodded.

Lena watched closely as Larissa’s gaze shifted to Thorn for the first time. She appeared to stop breathing and Lena tried really hard not to grin like the proverbial Cheshire. It didn’t work.

“
Maluth
Larissa of House Bowman, may I present His Majesty, King Thorn of House Blackwood.” Roarke's voice was surprisingly level.

Like a switch had flipped in the woman's brain Larissa became the very epitome of serene grace. A smile that didn't suit her spread across her face as she dropped into a perfect curtsey. “Your Majesty, you honour us.”

“Please, call me Thorn,” he replied, extending his hand to shake hers. As Lena watched the exchange, she knew something with absolute certainty
. She hated Larissa Bowman.
 

Ever gracious, Thorn tried to put Larissa at ease. “I apologise for visiting unannounced. We are here on official Order business and your son has been most helpful. Perhaps we should have some tea,” Thorn suggested to Roarke, who leaped up to ring the bell.

“Yes, we’ll have tea and cake, Roarke,” she said, smiling sweetly though her voice was harsh.

True, Lena thought Roarke greasy and snivelly, but she didn’t dislike him. In fact, the more she saw of his mother, the more she thought Roarke had done well to turn out as well as he had.

“Is your other son at home?” Lena asked, purposely not using Larissa’s title. As Steward, Lena outranked the other woman by an awfully long way and she was determined to treat her with the contempt she deserved. “Roarke mentioned Crane. We would like to talk to him.”

Larissa’s expression changed dramatically at the mention of Crane. Pride and love flowed so strongly from her that Lena could almost touch the emotions. Had Lena not just witnessed the detachment with which Larissa treated her youngest son, Lena would have found it warming to her very core. She envied the love a family gave one another. As it was, she now disliked Larissa Bowman even more intensely.

“Crane is otherwise engaged, Lena. He will be home presently,” Larissa mirrored Lena’s insult by not addressing her as Steward. Since Thorn had already given the
Maluth
leave to use his first name, Lena couldn’t complain. That didn’t mean she wasn’t itching to punch Larissa Bowman in the face though.