Doomsday Brethren, Book 04: Entice Me at Twilight (6 page)

“I apologize, but I must talk to you about—”

“When I’m finished.” She poked a finger in his chest. “The paparazzi are peeking through the windows and having a grand time photographing the shocked expressions of your mother’s friends. She’s quite beside herself. I know everyone bows and scrapes to you, and women throw themselves at your feet. Don’t expect either from me.”

Her face turned even more grim. “It’s not my aim to upset you. This is … necessary.”

A fresh wave of anger crashed through Felicia, and she welcomed it, hoping it would hold her awareness of him at bay. “Are you so arrogant that you must have attention? Do you need the cameras, the women, and the notoriety to feel fulfilled, Your Grace?”

“What?” He recoiled, looking perplexed, then furious. “
No
. I’m trying to tell you something but … bloody hell. I’ve gone about this the wrong way. Sorry.”

“Indeed.”

He shrugged. “I’m only human.”

Felicia opened her mouth to argue with him. Then a familiar, biting scent burned her nostrils. An instant later, her stomach turned, and she put a hand over her queasy belly to steady herself.

Hurstgrove lied—and the stench hadn’t presented itself
until his last three words.

Not human?
Impossible. Felicia’s mind raced. He looked like any other attractive man, though younger than his forty-three years suggested. Perhaps the whole evening—having Mason reveal his true feelings and His Grace making a scene—had thrown her senses off?

“What did you say?” she demanded.

“I’m only human. I make mistakes.”

Immediately, Felicia’s nostrils burned wildly again. Her stomach pitched as if she were in a rowboat in the midst of a hurricane. Gasping, she stared at him, wide eyed.

The Duke of Hurstgrove was
not
human. What, then, was he?

The horror on her face must have shown, because he grabbed her shoulders, his touch feverishly warm. A flurry of tingles barraged her. “What’s the matter? Are you nervous? Faint?” Understanding dawned, and he backed away. “No, you’re frightened.”

Of you
.

If she admitted that, how would he react? What was such an intimidating non-human capable of? If he knew that she’d figured out his secret, what would he do to her?

Heart pounding so hard she couldn’t hear her own voice, Felicia muttered, “I-I must … repair my lipstick.”

Before he could respond, she tore from his grasp and ran.

As she disappeared up the stairs, Ice, who had been loitering outside the chapel, sauntered across the marble tiles toward Duke. “Apologizing, are you? Not a particularly effective tactic to tell the woman she’s in danger.”

Duke snorted. “You would have grabbed her and run without any thought of alienating your family, causing a scandal, or scaring the hell out of her.”

The other wizard shrugged. “I don’t have any family to alienate, I don’t give a damn if I cause a scandal, and I’d rather have my woman frightened than dead.”

“She’s not mine.”

A sly smile crept across his face. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

“Piss off. I can’t do what you would have done. My situation is more complicated.”

Ice didn’t say a word, just took a long look around him at the marble tile, perfectly plastered walls, and muraled ceilings. The original estate had been built by one of Duke’s ancestors in the mid-sixteenth century. Over the years, the house had been expanded, altered, sections demolished and rebuilt. The chapel was part of that original structure, now overlooking the lush gardens his mother took great pains to oversee. The rest of the house maintained that stiff, museum-quality look. Duke had considered turning the estate over to the National Trust, but his mother loved living here.

Now seeing the estate through Ice’s eyes, a wizard who had grown up in a series of caves … Duke winced. Ice couldn’t possibly understand his responsibilities.

“I always thought Bram had ostentatiousness down to a fine art, but you make him look like an amateur.”

“I didn’t decorate—” Frustration crashed in, and Duke raked a hand through his hair. “Never mind. Focus on Felicia. I don’t want her out of our sight. The Anarki may appear at any moment. We’ll try this your way, but I must persuade Mason to call off this wedding so we can get everyone else out of here.”

Ice raised a dark, bushy brow. “How?”

“No idea.” Regardless of what anyone said, Mason would likely refuse.

Damn it, Duke wished he could simply confess that he
was a wizard. But Mason would only think him a nutter. Even if he could convince his brother, Mason wouldn’t even abide having a Liberal Democrat in the house, so Duke couldn’t imagine what he’d think about someone magical.

With a slap on the back, Ice shot him a pitying look. “Good luck. Would you like me to fetch Felicia?”

Duke’s first instinct was to refuse.
He
wanted to be the one to watch over her, keep her safe from danger. But that wouldn’t stop Mathias from crashing this wedding and potentially hurting his family or guests in his quest to find the Untouchable. He had to empty Lowechester Hall. While he wouldn’t be skimping on the drama, he had to hope the plan saved lives. And that he could avoid the tempting Felicia as much as possible.

“Yes. I’ll have a word with Mason.”

“Make it thirty seconds or less.” Ice bounded down the hall and up the stairs toward the family’s rooms.

Head swimming, Duke darted toward the chapel.

Mason stormed toward him, greeting him at the door. “Where the hell have you been? We were set to start ten minutes ago. You should have been lined up in the anteroom long before. Your friends are disturbing the guests. Mum can’t find Felicia, and somehow I know you’re to blame.”

Entirely
. “I’ll address my friends. Felicia is fixing her lipstick.”
And avoiding me
. “But I must talk to—”

“Did you have anything to do with her lipstick being mussed?” Mason’s dark eyes narrowed.

No, but God, he’d love that. The thought of kissing her made him hard all over. Again. Duke tugged at the bottom of his dinner jacket. “No. She seemed flustered when I ran into her in the hall. But that’s not important. Listen to me, Mason. Felicia is in danger.”

***

In her hiding place behind an armoire door, Felicia listened as Hurstgrove’s words penetrated her brain. She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in a gasp. Truth bathed His Grace’s expression. The absence of a stench or a burning belly told her senses that he believed every word he said.

Danger?

Was he delusional? Mistaken?

Or, God forbid, right?

After slipping past the scary, stubble-headed man, Felicia had sneaked back here. Thankfully, no one had noticed her lurking in the shadowed corner of the corridor. And here she would stay until she was certain Hurstgrove wouldn’t guess that she knew his secret.

Biting her lip, Felicia held her questions. Mason, a barrister well trained in cross-examination, would ask what was necessary. She’d listen and smell and decipher truths from lies. Besides, Mason wouldn’t be rattled by Hurstgrove’s compelling demeanor or the fact that he wasn’t human. Felicia would bet a year’s salary Mason had no clue his brother was anything but a normal man.

“
What?”
her fiancé exploded. “Danger? Of what sort?”

“Felicia is the target of a madman. He will take her from you and by the time he’s done, she’ll beg for death. Any moment, he and his … terrorists will descend.”

Felicia prayed to smell the awful stench that turned her stomach. Only the roses and jasmine of her wedding flowers wafted to her nose. Still, Hurstgrove’s perception didn’t make it reality. She prayed he was wrong.

“Madman? Terrorists?” Mason scowled. “How would
you
know this? Do you have any proof?”

Hurstgrove paused. “I met with one of his underlings, who told me—”

“You, meeting a terrorist’s underling?” Mason shot him a skeptical glare.

Felicia thought it unlikely as well. Except her ability told her his words were fact.

Hurstgrove hesitated. “I know him through my friends. Listen to—”

“Do you?” Mason cocked his head. “The skull-capped thug or the big bloke with the sword?”

“Neither. Did you hear me? This madman
will
torture and kill her.”

Again, Hurstgrove told the truth as he knew it.
Dear God …
Why her? Felicia tried to grapple for any reason why she would have come to a madman’s attention. Retribution for some criminal Mason had helped put behind bars?

“So this person offered you information? And you believed him? Without proof?” Mason scoffed.

“Damn it! He has no reason to lie.”

“Just as you have no reason to ruin my wedding with this ridiculous assertion?” Mason’s voice rang thick with sarcasm. “How could this criminal possibly know Felicia?”

“I … don’t know.”

The scent of Hurstgrove’s lie smacked Felicia in the face. He knew exactly how this villain had come to be aware of her. So why was he keeping the answer to himself?

“She is a bloody nursery school teacher. I’ve known you to go to ridiculous lengths in the past to bed a woman who made your cock twitch, but this is low, even for you,” Mason growled, then shook his head. “A terrorist looking for Felicia. Don’t take me for stupid.”

Hurstgrove hesitated, looking agitated and bleak. “I’m not making this up!”

“Rubbish! You cooked up this fucking charade to ruin our wedding.”

“I’m trying to protect her,” His Grace insisted. “Damn it, we don’t have time to—”

“If she’s in danger, why didn’t you come forward before now?” Mason raised a dark brow, back in barrister mode.

“I just learned of it an hour ago. Mason—”

“Why did you want the guest list if you knew she was in danger?”

Hurstgrove paced the elegant floor, moonlight bathing his strong profile. Felicia’s heart stuttered at the sight. The most insane urge to get close to him, curl up against him, press her mouth to his, overcame her. She shoved the school-girlish reaction aside. He wasn’t human. Her life could be in peril. What the hell was she doing lusting after the man?

“It’s complicated,” the duke finally answered.

Mason raised a dark brow. “I’ll manage.”

Hurstgrove raked a hand through his mussed hair. “We’ve no time for this now unless you want her to die.”

“She’ll be in a whole other sort of danger with you. I’m not budging until you give me proof.”

His Grace clenched his jaw, telling her he fought long and hard for patience. “I knew what they sought, not who. I’d hoped it wasn’t Felicia …”

But it was, as least in Hurstgrove’s mind. Fresh panic set in. Who was this madman? What could he possibly want with her?

Mason scoffed. “How thick do you think I am? What does she have that a terrorist could possibly want?”

Hurstgrove hesitated. “I’ll explain when she’s out of danger. Now, I must take her into hiding—”

“You
won’t take her anywhere.”

“Felicia will
die
if she doesn’t leave with me now!”

She watched their rapid exchange, her heart pounding. Everything Hurstgrove said was true, so she
should
leave. Felicia stepped forward to say as much, but Mason cut in first.

“By all means, you and your shady friends go. If Felicia needs protecting, that is my job and my right. After the wedding—”

“She may be dead before you finish the ceremony! These aren’t your average thugs. You can’t protect her.”

Felicia hung back as a new possibility washed over her. Were these terrorists non-human like Hurstgrove? That possibility showered her in a horrific wave. Dear God, if so, who else but Hurstgrove could keep her safe?

“You have the audacity to suggest we postpone the wedding?” Mason thundered.

“I’m not suggesting; I’m insisting.”

If she was truly in danger, Hurstgrove’s plan sounded not only logical, but imperative. Yet … if she didn’t marry Mason tonight, would she ever? Or would that door close? Without a husband, how would she achieve her dreams of her own home and family? Then again, none of that would matter if she was dead.

“You bastard.” Mason hurled. “You’ve inherited a title, an estate, a vast fortune, and have the world at your feet. You shag a different woman every night. I want
one
for the rest of my life, to protect and cherish. You merely seek to add another notch to your bedpost.”

“That’s not true.”

Murder crossed Mason’s face. “So, you don’t want Felicia?”

Hurstgrove frowned, hesitated. “No.”

A moment later, an overwhelming stench hit her, so debilitating, she clutched her stomach. Her eyes watered. Hurstgrove
did
want her—very badly. Felicia swallowed. His
response was like a flash fire, blistering her veins. She tried to push her reaction aside. Foolish. Inappropriate. Destructive.

How much more complicated could her life become? Loved by one brother, desired by the other, who wasn’t even human …

Suddenly, Hurstgrove’s friends crowded into the corridor like a walking wall of testosterone. Individually, they each spelled trouble. Together, they looked downright menacing.

The trio sauntered toward Mason.

“Where is she?” His Grace demanded of Ice.

He smiled tightly. “Here in the room, eavesdropping on you.”

Felicia gnawed her lip. She’d done nothing to give herself away, but he might not be human either. Did Ice know where she’d hidden? Fear detonated in her belly.

Then the blond one spoke. “Time is up. Duke, now.”

“Then go,” Mason spat and turned back to Hurstgrove. “I will not postpone my wedding based on hearsay. I’m marrying the woman I love tonight. And you won’t stop me.”

“I regret that saving Felicia will further deteriorate our relationship, but not enough to risk her. You shouldn’t either, if you truly love her.”

“How
dare
you suggest …” Fury etched his face, then his voice turned deadly calm. “Leave. You’re no longer invited.”

“Throwing me out of my own house will not keep her safe. This … criminal is more depraved than you can possibly imagine.”

Another truth.