Doomsday Brethren, Book 04: Entice Me at Twilight (27 page)

“Thanks, Sydney. I’ll call her now.”

Then he rang off and dialed again.

Stretching, Felicia listened to Simon’s part of the conversation.

“Ms. Rossmont, this is Simon Northam, the Duke of—precisely. Holly, it is, then. I have information that may be of interest to you. I realize that your paper primarily handles
paranormal related stories, and I’m sorry I haven’t one. But based on our mutual acquaintance with Sydney, I wondered if you’d be willing to handle a story for me?”

A pause later, a woman’s voice. Muffled. Felicia couldn’t hear the words, just the tone.

“Ah, so the scandal is still alive and brewing.” Another pause. “No, I agree. Three days isn’t enough time for a story like this to die. I wondered if you’d be willing to help me with something this afternoon. At the Dorchester. Say, four o’clock?”

The woman spoke again, and Felicia’s mind raced. Something? The woman worked for a newspaper. Certainly, Simon didn’t plan a press conference. Enduring flashing bulbs and barked questions, pretending happiness for the public … the thought made her ill.

She grabbed his arm. “Simon, I don’t think—”

He held up a hand to stop her protest, and instead spoke into the mobile. “Splendid. I’ll make it worth your while.”

More silence barely punctuated with a pushy woman’s tones.

“An exclusive? Hmm. Under certain conditions.”

He listened to her again, a smile slowly creeping across his face. Felicia realized that Simon was playing Holly, getting exactly what he wanted. He knew this game well.

“I’m not certain …” he drawled.

The woman on the other end spoke loudly and rapidly. Vociferously. Simon smiled wider.

“Well, if those are your terms, then yes. You can run everything tonight by seven p.m., exclusively, for forty-eight
hours. That’s my offer.”

What was everything?

Silence reigned on the other end for a long moment before she replied. Felicia wished she could hear Holly’s words.

“Excellent,” Simon finally said. “Glad we could come to an agreement. I’ll see you later, then.”

With that, he rang off and pocketed his phone, looking very pleased. “We have a lot to do before then.”

Such as?
“Sleep?”

He laughed. “No, Sunshine. We must get ready to put on a show. This is something I know all about. Trust me.”

Felicia drew in a deep breath. Trust him. Did she? To keep her safe, yes. Without reservation. But could she do it enough to let go of her fear and build a life with him?

L
ESS THAN AN HOUR
later, Duke drove into the snarl of London traffic, ready for breakfast, a soft bed, and a passionate interlude with his mate. He would have the first two. The last … Duke sighed. He must give Felicia time to acclimate and try to curb the caveman instincts magnified by the fever, but he couldn’t let her get too comfortable. He refused to repeat Mason’s mistake.

Especially given her story about Deirdre. Clearly, Felicia had loved her sister and Deirdre’s death was a wound that hadn’t healed. Beneath his mate’s cautious shell lay an emotional woman she did her damnedest to repress. He would never win her until he got past her defenses.

When he glanced her way, her face was shuttered again. That she’d closed up so quickly and thoroughly after surrendering so completely in his arms disturbed him.

Bloody hell
.

He also had to remember that he’d known her for fewer than three days—not enough time for most humans to fall in love. He sought a passion and commitment she hadn’t given to Mason in six years. It sounded fucking hopeless.

But Duke wasn’t a quitter.

How could he help her get over the fear of heartbreak she’d developed following Deirdre’s suicide? Or was it more? Mason had been in her life before her sister’s death, and Felicia hadn’t fallen for him then. Nor had she fallen for her previous boyfriend, Tristan. Neither man had been right for her, true, but had something caused Felicia to turn inward even before Deirdre’s death? Her parents, most likely. They’d valued her for the wrong reasons and, he’d guess from her tale,
emotionally neglected her for most of her life. Now, Felicia did her damnedest to maintain careful emotional distance so she couldn’t get hurt. How did he stop that cycle before he became victim number three?

Now wasn’t the time to ask her questions. She’d already opened up far more, he sensed, than usual. Though difficult, she’d trusted him enough to talk about Deirdre. It was a good first step. Next, he’d start learning her psyche and seducing her—for good.

As they approached Hyde Park, his mobile rang again. The name on the display surprised him.

“Who is it?” Felicia asked.

“My mother.” He grimaced. He hadn’t spoken to her since the night he’d carried Felicia away. Duke grimaced, imagining what his mother had to say.

He clicked the button to silence the ringer and let the call slide to voicemail.

Felicia shot him a sharp glance. “You’re avoiding her.”

“Of course. That’s a haranguing in the works.”

She laughed at him.

“What is so funny?” he demanded, secretly pleased to see her relaxed enough with him to smile.

“A grown man—a warrior wizard—running from his mother.” She giggled again.

“That should tell you just how frightening she can be.”

“She was always perfectly lovely to me. We never disagreed about anything whilst planning the wedding.”

“Hmm, that’s because you kept everything very traditional and acquiesced to her ‘suggestion’ that you marry at Lowechester Hall. Had you wanted a Goth wedding in an underground club in Soho, I daresay she would have reacted differently.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But you must face her someday.”

“Can I think on that for a bit?” he teased.

She swatted his arm playfully. “Your mother loves you.” Then she sobered up. “You can’t know how precious that is unless you’ve never had motherly affection.”

As he’d suspected. Had Felicia been protecting her heart since the day her wretched parents had adopted her? What would never being valued or loved for the person she was inside do to a little girl?

If they weren’t already dead, Duke would gladly throttle them with his own two hands.

“Does your mum … know about you?” Felicia asked.

“That I’m a wizard? No.” He sighed, familiar regret sliding through him. “How do I tell her that I’m not quite human?”

“So the magical thing is not hereditary?”

“It is. My ability came from my father’s side. He was at the end of his lifespan when he found my mother, so he died shortly after I turned six. The day he died, he said he had much to tell me, but he’d run out of time. I pieced it together eventually,” he said, navigating a crowded street and dodging pedestrians. “Mum knows I have some secret. We aren’t as close as we once were, and I know my … friction with Mason troubles her. But she’s still caring and supportive. I do value that.”

“So you’ll ring her back?”

He smiled tightly. “All right. After we navigate the crowd.”

Felicia frowned, peering out the window. “What crowd?”

The sun shone brightly. Pedestrians bundled as they scurried to and fro, their breaths clouding the air, demonstrating how bitterly cold it was.

Finally, Duke turned the last corner and the Dorchester
Hotel came into view … along with a horde of reporters and paparazzi.

“That crowd.”

She gasped, then turned to him in horror. “They’re here for us?”

“Indeed.” He brought the car to a stop under the low, flat portico in front of the swank hotel, grateful for the auto’s tinted windows. He extracted the keys from the ignition, then took her hand in his. Suddenly, a sea of flashing bulbs and shouting people surrounded the car.

“Remember, you must act as if we’re in love. Give these people the show they require to provide you a human shield.”

Felicia looked shell-shocked but nodded slowly. “Mathias would be an utter fool to reveal his magic to all these people or try some human means to remove them from his path.”

“Precisely. Let’s go.”

He opened the driver’s-side door and stood. Immediately, he was swarmed. He shouldered past several reporters with a “No comment,” and picked his way to the passenger door.

When he opened it, Felicia shrank back into her seat. “They’ll mob us.”

“They’ll take pictures and shout questions. Ignore them. It will make them work harder.” He grinned.

With a sigh, Felicia cautiously gave him her hand. He grabbed it, gratified by the small show of trust.

It didn’t take any mustering of effort on his part to drag her against his body and hold her tight, arm curled around her small waist. He let one hand wander low on her hip, just above the curve of her luscious backside. Predictably, flashbulbs flared all around.

“Are you dating your brother’s fiancée?” shouted one reporter.

“Have you been having a sexual relationship behind his
back?” another called.

“Did your brother know of your relationship with his fiancée before the wedding?”

“Where have you been since you abducted her?”

Duke put on his coldest face and glared at the group of reporters nearest him. “No comment.”

With that, he dragged Felicia toward the Dorchester’s door, ignoring their other questions and innuendos.

Inside, the staff greeted them with a smile. “Good morning, Your Grace. Madam. Welcome.”

Beside him, she stiffened, and he soothed her with a caress of his fingers at her waist. “I phoned last night. You have a reservation for me, I believe. A suite. With a view.” He planted a peck on Felicia’s chilled, red cheek—a gesture he knew could be interpreted in more than one way. “And lots of privacy.”

“Of course,” the desk clerk assured, straightening his proper gray tie. “Luggage?”

“None.” Grinning unrepentantly, he knew exactly what the tabloids would make of that.

Within moments, a perky young woman with a modest bun and dark skirt escorted them to the top level of the hotel. Somehow, she managed to keep her gaze averted, but Felicia felt the woman’s curiosity. Naturally. The Duke of Hurstgrove was taking a woman to a hotel room, sans luggage, shortly after sunrise. Most people checking into a hotel sans luggage weren’t seeking a bed for sleep.

Felicia felt herself flush again, her cheeks even hotter. In the three days she’d known this man, he’d turned her life upside down. Nothing about him was predictable. Or her response to him. Most men were easily brushed aside. If someone got too close, she stopped seeing him. Neat. Simple.

Simon didn’t fit that mold. His possessive arm around her waist was a subtle reminder that he intended to keep her close. He monitored everything—her expression, her breathing, her gait—using them to read her, gauge her mood. God knew, Simon could make her body respond to him in any way he’d wished. She feared it was only a matter of time before he made her heart do the same.

Swallowing as the hotel employee opened the door, Felicia peeked inside, her eyes going wide.
Oh. My. God
. It wasn’t a hotel room, but a swanky multi-room palace with views that went on forever. It featured exotic hardwood floors, a sitting room with a couch that looked like a chocolate cloud, and beyond that, a massive four-poster canopy bed swathed in the most luxurious silk bedding she’d ever seen.

Simon nudged her into the room, then turned to the other woman. “Thank you …” He peered at her nametag. “Ms. Hodge.”

“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?”

“Breakfast, please. Twenty minutes, sharp. Eggs, sausage.” He turned to her. “You like scones, Sunshine?”

Felicia frowned, grappling to take it all in—the room, his manner, his affection. “I-I don’t need anything special. Toast is fine.”

“Do you like scones?” he repeated.

“Of course.”

With a smile, the turned back to the prim woman. “Scones, tea, and coffee. A newspaper and the manager at my door in an hour.”

The woman curtsied. Honest to goodness curtsied. Felicia’s jaw dropped.

“Right away, Your Grace.”

With that, she was gone. And Felicia couldn’t hold her astonishment in. “People defer to you like that all the time?”

“Usually.” He shrugged matter-of-factly.

“No wonder you’re impossible to deal with.”

“I get what I want.”
And I want you
. His eyes turned dark, silently conveying that fact.

Her belly flipped nervously. “Simon …”

He layered a soft kiss over her mouth. “Don’t worry, I won’t give in to my urge to seduce you … yet. First, we have a few items to scratch off our to-do list. Why don’t you have a nice, hot shower? After breakfast, you can take a nap.”

“You haven’t slept all night.”

The sexy smile that stole across his mouth made her heart skip a beat. “You gave me enormous energy last night. I feel … spectacular. Besides, I’ll do nothing more taxing than make a few phone calls, including one to my mother. Go on. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

“For what? Simon, what is it you’ve planned? I’m not ready for this public—”

“Shh. You only have to be near me and smile when I ask. I’ll take care of everything else. Promise.”

Felicia tried not to melt, but it was impossible. Simon frightened her emotionally, but made her feel so safe in every other way. He would handle the press. He would keep Mathias at bay—as he had from the moment he’d spirited her away. Every minute of every day she trusted him a bit more. Somehow, that both comforted and frightened her.

Duke closed the door to the hotel suite after the last of his multitude of guests with a satisfied smile. Finally, everything was arranged. He glanced at his watch. A bit more than an hour to spare.

Perfect
.

Duke headed toward the bedroom … and a view he couldn’t resist. Peeling off the coat of the suit he’d had delivered
from his London flat for his meeting with the hotel’s manager, he draped the garment over a low-backed, cream silk chair. He slipped off his shoes a few steps later. When he reached the bedroom door, he shrugged out of his pristine white shirt and hung it on the back of the knob.

He looked across the room, pausing to lean on the jamb and study his mate tangled in the sheets. She looked so soft and innocent in sleep. Tousled pale hair flowed across her pillow, her lips slightly parted, hands tucked under her cheek.