Ian Huntsley almost laughed. He knew his wife's look well. Leaning closer to avoid being overheard, he asked, "My love, what are you up to?"
"Moi?" she said.
Ian arched a brow.
Clair laughed. "You know me so well."
Ian waggled his brows. It wasn't the pale moon that excited him anymore—it was the thrill of his wife. Just the nearness of her had him panting, wanting to howl with delight. "Shall I describe in detail that mole you have on your very cute, very luscious—"
She slapped a hand over his mouth. "Harry Ian!"
He nipped at her fingers. He knew he was in trouble when she called him Harry. "Elbow. You have the most luscious elbows I know."
Clair withdrew her hand. She knew exactly what her husband had truly been going to say. But that was the trouble with Harry Ian: He really was a wolf—and not only every full moon, but in bed, out of bed, on the table, on his desk in the study, in the stables and even on the blue Persian rug in their bedroom. Or at least wolfishly hungry for her. Yes, love and passion definitely burned brightly in their bedchamber, enough to keep them warm on even the frostiest winter night.
Ian chuckled and Clair blushed. "What are you up to?" he repeated.
Clair glanced down the table at the scowling Asher and frowning Jane. Ian followed her gaze.
"Well?" he asked, frowning as well. "What? Asher? As much as I hate to admit it, the vampire saved us both from a vicious blood feud." It had formed a blood bond of sorts between them. But that didn't mean he had to like the bloody pompous bastard.
"Asher needs a wife, and Jane needs a husband," Clair explained. Her eyes were all innocent and wide.
Ian groaned. "No. No, you are not matchmaking again. Please tell me you aren't. Besides, Asher eats females like Miss Paine for breakfast. Literally."
Clair smiled her secret smile. Her husband knew that she was a friend of the famous Van Helsings; she just hadn't told him that Jane was one, having introduced her as Miss Paine. Clair knew that Ian might have one or two tiny objections to her matchmaking a master vampire and a vampire hunter. However, Clair also knew that once the pair fell in love, her slight omission would be a sweet deceit, and Ian would forget all about it… she hoped.
Ian glanced back at the pair, who were busily ignoring each other, and shook his head. "I don't exactly think it's a match made in heaven. But then, with a vampire for the intended, I don't think it could be!"
"Very funny," Clair remarked. "I think it's a fine match. Asher is very lonely, and so is Jane. Jane is loyal and intelligent. Also, she's very clever when she's not nervous. Asher is loyal in his own way, and his wit is piercing."
"Along with his fangs." Ian shook his head. "Clair, they don't even appear to like each other."
"Nonsense! Great-aunt Abby predicted a match for the two of them with her tarot cards."
Ian rolled his eyes. He knew Clair believed in her great-aunt's fortune-telling abilities. He even knew that sometimes Great-aunt Abby was correct. But it was clearly the luck of the draw and not any true clairvoyant ability.
Ignoring him, Clair continued. "I believe they are right for each other, and if I put them into each other's orbits enough, they will feel the gravitational pull."
"And will be satellites for life."
"Exactly," Clair stated. "We'll see them married before the holiday season."
Ian snorted.
As Clair and her husband were arguing, Jane was silently fuming, thinking that if her friend were a vampire, she just might happily stake her too. How could she have been placed in such close proximity to the earl on her first night here? Jane wondered begrudgingly. She needed time to come to grips with what she had to do. She needed time to gather up her self-esteem, for the earl had greatly battered it earlier in the evening.
Jane cursed silently, fidgeting in her chair and knowing that she should not. But Asher was sitting so close, his frosty scent teasing her nostrils, and that made her uncomfortable. How could Clair have placed the most handsome man in the room right by her side? She felt as though everyone were staring at Beauty and the Beast. Of course, in this house of a werewolf, that might mean Clair and Ian.
To make matters worse, Neil Asher's mere presence was causing her heart to beat more quickly and her breathing to speed up. She was scared, and not of being attacked at the dinner table. Even such a debaucher as Count Dracul wouldn't slurp on her in public, not with all twenty-odd guests watching.
She was frightened not of the earl but of herself. She was once again feeling a resurgence of the earl's magnetic sensuality, like she'd felt on the night of the ill-fated masquerade ball. The strange urge was something she hadn't felt since her first suitor, the author, courted her. He had been a handsome young gentleman, and had kissed her three times. The third kiss had involved something scary with his tongue, but it had stirred something deep within her. Not long afterward, her suitor's deceit had been revealed.
Yes, that had been a dismal, heartbreaking discovery: that the man was wooing her only for her family connection to the supernatural in the hope that it might help his career. It had scarred Jane deeply, making her wonder if anyone could ever love her for who she was. She was no beauty, but couldn't someone see past that to the warm, loving person inside who had so much to give?
Since the earl had spoken to her only twice, and both times briefly, Jane turned to her other neighbor, Mr. Warner. The man was rooting about in his food as if he were looking for truffles. His cravat was stained with oyster sauce, or perhaps it was the lentil soup. After two attempts at conversation, and getting mere grunts in return, Jane gave up. Mr. Warner really was a wereboor.
Turning back to the earl and trying hard not be obvious, Jane studied him from the corner of her eye. She watched as he took a small bite of duck. She had never been this up close and personal before with the undead. She had also never seen a vampire eat real food, but due to her lessons, she knew one could. Vampires could eat small amounts of meat and drain certain types of liquor without problem. Much more was not tolerated. Of course, they could bespell a person to believe they'd eaten an eight-course dinner and consumed everything served.
The earl continued to eat in silence, for the moment ignoring everyone else as well as Jane.
Enough was enough, Jane decided firmly. She had a duty to do, in spite of the strange urgings this pompous bloodsucker stirred in her. She had to get him alone with her.
"My lord, I believe you are ignoring me," she said. There, she had taken the bull by the horns, or rather the vampire by the fangs.
Asher turned toward her, his sneer spoiling his aristocratic beauty. Jane couldn't help but smile, wondering if all the blue blood he'd drunk had gone to his toplofty head.
"Madame, are you perchance speaking to me?" he asked. "Are you speaking to me?"
"It appears that I am," she said, batting her eyelashes in what she hoped was a flirtatious manner.
Asher cocked his head, studying her. "Do you have something in your eye?" he asked.
Jane could feel the heat of a blush start in her cheeks. "No, I do not."
Asher gave her a look that was clearly a dismissal, then turned back to his other dinner companion.
Well, that went well, Jane thought in embarrassment. Stabbing at a piece of squab with her fork, she watched in horrified amazement as it flipped off her plate and struck the earl's immaculate jacket. The vampire looked down, slowly shook his head and glared at her.
"Are you intending to ruin another of my jackets?"
Jane groaned, longing to put her head in her hands and weep. But the earl calmly removed the squab from his coat.