"I'm sorry. It just slipped," she said.
"My valet will be quite upset." Asher was about to go on when he noticed that Miss Paine's embarrassed flush had spread to her lovely bosom. It was such a bounteous bosom—slightly marred by the freckles, it was true, but so pale and kissable. But the woman really was a clumsy puss.
"Somehow, when I am around you I seem to do the most foolish things," she remarked.
He shrugged. "I am an earl. People are always toad-eating, doing the most remarkably silly things to gain my attention."
"It's not that you are an earl that had me flustered," Jane remarked.
Asher smiled. "Oh. Well, my looks have been known to distract women and send them to their knees as well."
Jane shook her head. "Such conceit."
Asher shrugged. "Why should I be modest? I'm a grand personage, and well know it."
"Indeed," Jane retorted. "You poor man, having women dropping at your feet like flies. You must be honey laced with vinegar."
He snorted, surprised to find Miss Paine had a clever bone in her body. He wondered which it was. "I must admit, of all the females I have had dropping around me recently, you left the most lasting impression."
"I did?" Jane asked, taken aback. Had she made headway?
"Yes, you left a lasting impression on my jacket. Renfield was quite upset." He gave a short cackle. So much for making an impression.
"I take it Renfield is your valet?" she said.
Asher nodded, noting Miss Paine-in-the-Neck's lips. They were wide and too full, but they were definitely delicious-looking. A stark image hit him squarely between the eyes as he envisioned those too-full lips causing him to ripen and swell as they took him into her mouth and sucked upon him. His rambunctious rod hardened, and Asher shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Had the world run mad? What was he thinking?
"You must think me the most graceless female you have ever met," the woman conceded, both graciously and regretfully. "Please forgive any disquiet I have caused."
Asher remained silent, arching a brow.
Jane's embarrassment began to fade somewhat, her temper beginning to simmer instead. The earl could be easier in his acceptance of her apology, she thought. "Thank you for making me feel so much better about my clumsy nature. I must compliment you on your gift of charm."
Her sarcasm caught Asher's attention. Once again, this little odd duck was acting the shrew. Strange, because most women bent over backwards to please him—and managed some rather interesting positions too.
"You aren't the most clumsy," he admitted. He recalled Ann Boleyn, who used to trip over her slippers constantly. That's how she fell in love with Henry VIII and lost her head.
Cocking his head, he studied Miss Paine more closely, noticing the faint blue lines in her throat, which made him unusually curious whether her blood was sweet or tart, or perhaps a combination of the two. Maybe he would sneak a sip for an aperitif. She was certainly more attractive when her blood was up. So he would anger her some more.
Looking pointedly at the wineglass in her hand, he remarked, "I see you are tippling again."
Her eyes flashed green fire. "Only this glass of wine," she remarked. "I was foolish that first night I met you. But I learned my lesson."
Asher waited, his glass raised to his lips. "Go on. This lesson was… ?"
"You could say that the night of the ball was a first-time experience in overindulgence for me. Most definitely, it was a mistake that will never be repeated," she replied. She shuddered in memory. "I don't know how you gentlemen can drink like that night after night without stopping. I felt like elephants were dancing in my skull the morning after."
"Yes, the aftereffects of overindulgence do not a fine morning make," Asher agreed, thinking of the few times he had drunk shape-shifter blood chased by the blood of warlocks. His preternatural hangover had lasted two nights, and he'd felt as if he were staked out and left to dry. Since then, he'd sworn off the more exotic victims.
"Yes, the morning after is so unpleasant. I wonder why gentlemen so often indulge," she mused.
"Men must have their sport." In agreement with his words, Asher's gaze again took in the modest display of Miss Paine's most outstanding assets. He wondered if her breasts would spill over his large, long-fingered hands? True, he'd been right in earlier thinking she was not his usual style, but maybe a change of pace would help his ennui. Life had lately become too much the same.
With both people and vampires acting the same way century after century, lately Asher's life had begun to stream into one long, endless night. Little children grew old and died. Centuries passed. His dreams as a fledging had already been fulfilled or changed, leaving him agitated and restless, searching for something or someone to elevate his night-to-night existence. Lately he'd been asking himself: Was this all there was to undeath?
Jane shifted nervously, her blood humming. The look in the earl's eyes was electric. She knew why women fell at his feet when he looked at them.
Asher watched her, his expression thoughtful. Miss Paine was indeed a breath of fresh air, and he was a sporting vampire always on the lookout for new adventures. Perhaps he would give her the thrill of her spinsterish life and woo her a little. Enough to get a taste of that intriguing blood and see if those breasts and elegant neck tasted as good as they looked.
He would court her only slightly—enough to stir interest, but not so much that he would be in danger of offering for the plain Miss Paine. Since she was definitely not a diamond of the first water, the guests would be intrigued and gossip, and Asher did so enjoy good gossip. He could also show Clair Frankenstein Huntsley and her fur-faced husband that his love for her was dying a quick death.
He would be very careful, as he always was. He was too wily a foe to be caught by the parson's mousetrap. For too many years he had steered clear of marriage-minded females and virgins. The elevated and titled debutantes of polite society were a danger to bachelors like himself. They could be compromised. And compromised meant married in almost every case, due to honor and society's conventions.
Yes, he decided, as he smiled at his intended victim, he would use Miss Paine and use her very well indeed. It was a shame he couldn't use her completely. But he would leave Miss Paine's virginity intact, since to do as his instincts strongly urged would only result in a hasty and repugnant marriage.
He turned on his most seductive smile, the one that had seduced queens. He had just found a way to liven up the next few nights. Imagine, a master vampire wooing a spinster. The gossips would have a field day!
Seeing the earl's glorious smile turned on her, Jane swallowed hard. "My lord?"
His smile showed perfect white teeth. "Call me Asher," he said quietly. "All my friends do."
Jane swallowed again. She felt as if she were drowning in the blue depths of his eyes. What was this strange feeling that seemed to be eating her? Was this how his victims ended up eaten?
"Asher," she said softly, her lips trembling. When he smiled like that, she wanted to kiss him silly. Her heart beat faster. She wondered if he could hear it.
He leaned closer, almost brushing her ear. "And I may call you… ?" He looked as if he would kiss her.
The force of his magnetism nearly left her breathless.
Silently, she repeated what she knew to be true: Asher was a bloodsucking vampire. In point of fact, he was the prince of bloodsucking vampires. He was also the enemy, and a lady wasn't supposed to want to kiss anyone, much less the enemy.
Jane leaned back in her chair, as far from temptation as she could get. Even though she was an intelligent female, a Van Helsing and almost on the shelf, she was no match for this hot-blooded rake who also happened to be a cold-blooded killer.