The Rest Falls Away (30 page)

She could put the
vis bulla
back in, in the morning. And perhaps Phillip would grow used to it.

She turned toward the door that joined their bedchambers, and started—for he was standing there, her husband, in all of his naked beauty. Dark hair, heavy blue eyes…lean limbs shadowed with the glow from the candle on her dressing table. Her breath caught for a moment and she felt muzzy-headed again…and this time it was not from the removal of her
vis bulla.

“Come here, darling,” Phillip said, holding out his hands to her. His shoulders flexed easily in the flickering candlelight. “I hope I didn't spoil the mood.” He smiled in a manner that reminded her uncomfortably of Sebastian—a bit wicked, edged with promise…yet there was a tenderness there in his eyes, something she'd never seen in Sebastian's golden ones.

And why was she comparing him to Sebastian? Her husband, on their wedding night? Perhaps it was only normal for one to compare and contrast when confronted with something unfamiliar…and exciting.

She stepped into his arms, glad that he'd come to her and apologized. She felt the warmth of his body, long and textured against hers, and the prod of his erection was gentle against her hip. Her half-donned robe gusted around them, and she slipped it off her shoulders. It collapsed onto the floor, pooling at her ankles as her naked breasts pressed against his chest.

Phillip kissed her along the side of her neck, where her skin was the most sensitive, and where the bare brush of his lips made her toes curl and her breasts tighten. Somehow his mouth didn't stop its tasting of her as he brought them to the bed—her bed, not his—and tumbled her onto it.

“So beautiful, my darling,” he told her, propping himself up on an elbow above her. His body cast a shadow over half of hers, and she watched in fascinated interest as he drew his finger gently down between her breasts, along the irregular line of dark and light. The tingling that had begun in her belly, then between her legs, tightened almost painfully as he bent to draw her nipple into his mouth.

As he sucked and tugged, the sensation grew and ebbed with the rhythm of his mouth and the slide of his tongue. His breathing became deeper, warm and moist over her skin, and when he slipped his fingers between her legs, Victoria didn't know whether to press her knees together…or let them fall away.

“Let me, Victoria, my wife,” he whispered against her neck, drawing his mouth along her jaw as he positioned himself over her. “I will be very gentle…and after a moment, you will feel only pleasure.”

She did. She let him, and opened her legs in a wanton manner, one that would have horrified her if she'd thought about it…but she did not. She let him. Let his fingers stroke and slide, dip and delve, until she did not know what was happening…only that it was pleasure beyond anything she'd imagined.

And then…the pain. The sharp, quick pain as he moved his hips between hers, and then, as he had promised, only pleasure.

Only easy, rising, fulfilling pleasure.

+ 21 +

Wherein the New Marchioness

Proves Herself an Excellent Storyteller

Victoria felt better when
she reinserted her
vis bulla
the next day. It took a little bit of jimmying and tugging to get the silver hoop back in place, but she managed it with a bit of help from Verbena, and once that was done she finished dressing.

She was pleasantly sore from the activities of the night before, and, so far, delighted with her new marital status. Over breakfast, she and Phillip ate kippers and eggs, sausages and biscuits, preserves and clotted cream. And then they boarded his traveling coach, which had already been loaded with their trunks, and embarked on a two-week honeymoon.

When they returned, she was rosy-cheeked and no longer sore.

On the morning after their return, Phillip left St. Heath's Row early to take care of some business in town with his solicitor and banker. Victoria worked diligently if reluctantly on her correspondence, but was saved from an entire afternoon of tedium by a missive from Aunt Eustacia inviting her for tea.

“You look lovely, my dear marchioness,” said her elderly aunt when Kritanu showed Victoria into the sitting room. “Rested and quite happy.”

Victoria bent to kiss her aunt's uncommonly soft, unlined face. “Indeed I am, Aunt. But I am also quite desirous of returning to the task at hand.”

“We are delighted to hear that,” drawled Max, who was standing across the room.

“Max. I never did thank you for agreeing to attend the wedding,” Victoria replied. She had expected him to be there, and as part of her new position, she'd decided she was no longer going to allow him to nettle her. Her happiness made it much easier for her to pity his dark moods and what could only be great loneliness.

He bowed. “I was happy to be of assistance.”

Perhaps he too had decided to be less combative.

“And how was the wedding trip?” Max continued, standing until Victoria took her seat. “I trust the marquess is well and has given no indication he plans to revisit the Silver Chalice.”

Perhaps not.

“We haven't spoken of that evening since it occurred,” Victoria told him, keeping her voice mild.

“Victoria, I realize it's the first day back from your honeymoon, but I felt it necessary to contact you,” interjected Aunt Eustacia. “We've learned a group of vampires has planned a raid of sorts on Vauxhall Gardens early in the morning. Despite Max's expertise, we felt there should be two Venators in order to keep them from succeeding.”

Victoria felt the thrill of the fight tic in her heartbeat, but then she recalled. “I have committed to attend the theater with Phillip tonight. What time would I need to be ready?”

“Midnight, of course,” Max said from the corner. “I am certain you could invent
some
reason for returning to your home earlier rather than later in the evening. Having just returned from your honeymoon.”

Victoria did not allow the flush to warm her cheeks; she stopped it cold. “Indeed, you're correct. I daresay it will be no hardship at all to entice my husband to return home early. Of course, I might be otherwise occupied for a time…”

Max nodded, his eyes dark and cool. “Of course. Is it possible you could perhaps adjust your schedule so I could pick you up at midnight? So too many people aren't killed before we arrive?”

“You don't have to pick me up,” Victoria reminded him, wondering where her resolve had gone. “I can meet you there.”

“I will pick you up. You would never locate me in Vauxhall.”

“I will have to find a way to leave the house without Phillip knowing.”

“I should expect him to sleep quite well after such an evening,” Max said mildly. “Or perhaps you could assist him…with this.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small vial. “If you are concerned he might awaken and find his wife missing.”

Victoria caught it when he tossed it lightly through the air. “What is it?” But she already knew. It was a drug. Max was suggesting that she drug her husband.

“It is called
salvi.
Protection. Safety. It comes in quite handy.”

“As long as you aren't caught administering it and forced to drink it yourself.” Victoria replied archly, then looked at the small vial. Eustacia had been unusually silent during their exchange. It was almost as if she'd realized her intervention would be useless.

Victoria looked back down at the vial. Could she actually drug Phillip?

Was it truly necessary?

If she didn't would he awaken to find her gone? If she wasn't beside him, where she'd become quite used to sleeping in the last two weeks, would he seek her out in her own bedchamber?

The liquid was nearly clear. Just the faintest blue tinged the thin, watery fluid. She would have to. To protect him, she not only had to lie to him…but drug him as well.

For she couldn't chance his awakening and putting himself in danger again.

Never again.

 

+ + +

“I'm feeling rather exhausted,” Victoria murmured into Phillip's ear as they sat in his box at the theater. “I would much prefer to be in bed…wouldn't you?” She dipped the tip of her tongue into the innermost part of his ear—quickly, like a tease—then moved away and returned her attention to the stage. Prim and proper she was then, with her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Phillip shifted next to her in a manner that told her he, too, was thinking of things other than the play…which she was, truth be told, rather enjoying. “We can slip out during the next intermission—ah! What perfect timing,” he amended, as the actors exited the stage.

Victoria clung to his arm as they pushed through the bustle of people leaving their boxes to mingle and be seen.

Phillip handed her into the carriage and climbed in after her. Instead of sitting on the seat across, he settled next to her and drew her near, kissing her with promise.

“My dear, your neck is so cold! Are you quite comfortable?” he asked, pulling away.

“I am not chilled, but oh, Phillip! I left my indispensable in our box; I'm certain of it! And it has Aunt Eustacia's brooch in it…Could you hurry back in and retrieve it for me before it disappears?”

“Of course, my darling. You wait here—I won't be above a minute!”

She hoped that wasn't true, and waited until she saw him hurry back into the theater before she slipped the stake from a hidden pocket in her underskirt and climbed quietly out of the carriage—hoping the footman wouldn't hear her.

The walkway was crowded, more with carriage footmen and hackney drivers than theatergoers. Victoria wasn't certain where the vampire was, but she followed her instinct and hurried around the corner. The street was darker here, and not so busy—but when she approached the third hackney in the row, she knew she'd come to the right place.

A deep, muffled groan came from inside, and seeing that the driver was missing, Victoria flung open the door.

The vampire was a woman and, from the looks of it, had just finished feeding—or, at least, had already started. She was dressed in a dark cloak, and her brown hair was arranged prettily in an intricate coiffure, complete with gemstones and ribbons. In fact, if it weren't for the bright red blood trickling from the corner of her mouth and the odd-colored eyes, she would have looked like an innocent society miss.

“How nice of you to join us,” she greeted Victoria. Quick as a flash she lunged forward and grabbed at her. It took little effort for her to draw Victoria into the hackney—mainlv because Victoria did not resist.

But once Victoria was sprawled, half in, half out of the carriage, she took matters into her own hands and scrambled to a seat on the opposite side.

That was when the vampire saw the stake.

She drew back in fear, and her red eyes widened. “Venator!”

“Pleased to meet you,” Victoria told her as she slammed the stake into her chest.

Poof!
She was gone, and Victoria was alone with the man she presumed was the driver of the hackney, based on the less than elegant clothing he wore.

She shifted his body to examine the bite and determine whether he was still alive and able to be saved. The bite was deep and still running with bright red blood. She felt the other side of his neck, trying to find a pulse…but her hand came away wet. The vampire had already been there too.

If they had come out of the theater a few moments earlier, she might have sensed the vampire in time to stop this senseless death.

But there was nothing she could do for the man. He was already dead.

When Victoria opened the hackney door, she froze, then quickly shut it. Phillip was standing on the street, calling for her.

Damn and blast!

She peered out the window, waiting for him to pass by so she could sneak out and hurry back to their carriage.

As soon as he went beyond the hackney, she did slip out and rush back…but just as she rounded the corner, she realized she was leaving Phillip alone—where another vampire could easily appear.

The back of her neck remained warm, but she still paused at the corner, peering around to watch for him.

To her relief he came back into view, striding along as if to hurry back and search in a different direction. She made her way to the carriage, where Tom, the groom, rushed up to her in relief.

“My lady! Where did you go?”

She did not answer, for at that moment Phillip came around the corner and caught sight of her.

“Victoria! Where did you go? And what is that on your gown? Is that blood?” He stared at her, appalled.

“Let us get in the carriage and I will tell you.” It was nearly eleven, and if she was going to be ready for Max, they needed to get started.

Phillip helped her into the carriage, and Victoria took her seat, thinking quickly. “Did you find my indispensable?”

“No, there was nothing in the box. Victoria—”

“Oh, my dear, here it is! It was under the cushion all along!” she said, retrieving her little pouch. “I am so sorry for sending you on such a goose chase.”

“Yes, just as you were last week when you thought you left your shawl at the inn where we dined.”

“I can't imagine how I've become so fiddle-minded!” Victoria said, and because she recognized that he was only so patient and able to be distracted for so long, she said, “I did not mean to give you a fright, Phillip, but I saw an acquaintance of my mother's and hurried out to greet her. I walked with her and her husband to their carriage—just a few down from ours—and she bade me come in and greet her daughter, and as we climbed in, the door of the carriage slammed into her husband's nose, and it began to bleed quite dreadfully. He was so embarrassed that he bled on my skirt. I couldn't just rush off…so I stayed until I was certain he did not feel at fault. I am so sorry I neglected to tell Tom I was leaving!”