Angelica swallowed again. Had she left the frying pan and fallen into a blazing fire instead?
But yet…this was Voss. Hadn’t he ordered her away from him when he sneaked into her bedchamber? If he meant to attack her, he could easily have done it then. Nor did he have to send for Corvindale when he took her to Black Maude’s, when he stopped his own attack.
No. It was clear Voss didn’t intend to hurt her.
He didn’tintend tohurt her. But the look in his eyes…
“A bath…Oh, yes, please!” she replied, looking down at the once-beautiful rose-pink gown. She’d been wearing it for nearly a week. Torn, stained, the ruffles and trims flattened…the frock would never be the same. She hadn’t had the courage to glance in the mirror, for fear of what she’d see.
“Right,” said Voss, pausing as he dug through a satchel. “I was speaking of a bath for myself…but of course, ladies first.”
She looked over at him, surprised at his lack of chivalry—and then saw that he was smiling in jest. Her mouth softened. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice low. “Truly.”
He looked away, and his face settled with what was surely pain. “I shall call for a bath and leave you to your privacy.”
“No,” Angelica said before she could think. “No, I don’t want to be left alone. Please. I’ll forgo the bath…if you can stand me unwashed.”
Voss laughed this time, and although he moved stiffly, it seemed easier. “Not only do I not wish to ‘stand’ you unbathed, but I also wouldn’t dream of imposing my own unwashed self upon you. I do believe it can be managed with a modicum of propriety, my dear. If you will trust me.”
Those last words hung in the air between them and, as if realizing what he’d said, Voss suddenly turned away.
“There is a screen, you know,” he said, gesturing to the corner.
“Yes,” she replied.
He walked over to a row of four bell pulls, obviously each for different needs, and yanked on the second one.
“What’s wrong with your arm?” Angelica asked, noticing that he’d continued to favor his right side. He’d hardly been able to lift it to reach for the bell pull, in fact.
Voss glanced at her. “Of all the questions you might have asked me, that’s the one you choose? Not, ‘Where did you comefrom, Voss?’ Or ‘How did you find me?’ ‘Why are we here?’ Or even ‘What are we going to do now, Voss?’”
Angelica smiled in spite of herself. She liked this man. “Ah, but I wouldn’t call you Voss,” she replied, her voice dropping in a way that made her flush.
Their eyes met again, stopping her heart, making her belly flip and flutter. Making herwant…something.
His eyes were hot, so hot and so vibrant she could sense the need from him even across the room. Even from that simple connection of gazes. He took two rapid steps toward her, then halted, spinning half away as if he’d been shot.
“It will be well-nigh impossible for me to remain in the same chamber as you,” he said. “Without wanting to…Without wanting…you.” His voice was low, very low, and not nearly as smooth as she was used to. “It’s part of the affliction…the need for blood. We have to have it to survive. But it’s not just blood,” he continued. “It’s you. I’m dying for the need of you, Angelica.”
Her breath clogged and she found herself hypnotized, not merely by his gaze, but his words, as well. Her hand crept to her throat, settling there before she realized it, offering nothing but weak protection.
“And so,” he said, his voice gravelly, his golden eyes burning hot. She even saw his nose lift a bit, as if scenting the air. He closed his eyes briefly, then reopened them. “I had my valet prepare something for you. To help. To help you trust me.”
He gestured to a flat metal case no larger than the palm of her hand. It sat on the table in the center of the chamber; perhaps he had taken it out earlier, or just now when digging through his satchel.
“What is it?”
“Open it. Wear it,” was all he said, and then turned away, bumping into one of the chairs. He paused, his fingers closed around the top of it, whitening as they dug into the upholstery.
She did as he bid, opening the thick silver case. It was lined with lead. Inside, she found a chain intertwined with the stem of a plant. It was a necklace made from some herb, fortified by a gold chain so that it wouldn’t break.
“I don’t understand,” she said, lifting it, smelling the small, oblong leaves that grew in clusters from their stem. They had a faint, licorice-like scent and some of them boasted tiny, fuzzy lavender flowers.
“Wear it and I won’t be able to approach you.”
Before she could reply, there was a brisk, businesslike knock at the door.
“That would be the bath,” he said. “Perhaps you’d like to step behind the screen? And take that with you, if you please.”
