Clair's words brought him to his senses. Breathing hard, Ian stepped back, straightening her gown. "Damn, Clair. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"To what? Make love to me on the Benningtons' terrace?" she asked archly, her heart racing and her stomach churning, her body quivering with unfilled desire. She pointed a finger. "The Benningtons' terrace!" she repeated.
Frustrated at the reaction of his body, at Clair, and at himself, Ian ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to get carried away…" He trailed off, his chest heaving.
"On the Benningtons' terrace," she said again.
"Damn it! Can't we get past the Benningtons' terrace?" he asked. "I said I was sorry."
She slid down and onto her feet. "Sorry for trying to make love to me on the Benningtons' terrace?" she repeated a fourth time, wanting to smile at the irritated look Ian shot her. "Or sorry for sending me on a wild goose chase to the duke's? You lied to me, Ian. You looked me straight in the eye and lied."
Ian tightly clasped both her hands. "Tonight I got carried away. I would do nothing to harm your reputation or you. I told you what I did about the Duke of Ghent to keep you away from Asher. He is a dangerous man. I didn't want to see you get hurt, and yet I ended up hurting you. If I could take the lies back, I would."
Clair searched his face, seeking the truth. "You betrayed me. Would you do it again?"
He kissed her gently on the forehead. He knew her belief would either set him free or apart from Clair forever. "I will never betray you again, Clair. In any form or fashion."
Clair gasped. Coming from one of the ton's greatest rakes, here was an oath tantamount to a vow of fidelity. She hated to admit it to herself, but she had been worried about Ian and his reputation as a rake. If she ever gave her heart away, it would be forever. Fidelity was something crucial to Clair. Staring up into Ian's beloved face, she asked cautiously, "Including other women?"
He nodded solemnly. Clair hugged him tightly.
"I will also try to tell you the truth at all times if I can." Ian knew deep in his soul that there was no other woman for him. He had found the perfect mate in an imperfect setting.
The second avowal she wasn't too thrilled with. She dropped her arms. "Try to tell me the truth?"
Ian touched her nose with his finger. "Try, you minx. Sometimes truth is a relative thing. It's the best I can offer." He turned to go. "Sleep on it?"
Chewing her lip, she nodded as Ian walked away. It had been an exhausting night. But her investigation had taken a mighty leap forward. And all in all, Plan B had been one of her most inspired plans of all time, a plan that actually worked brilliantly.
Strange how the bee of jealousy had stung Ian. Rubbing her lips, Clair felt as though she had been stung herself. She grinned, remembering the old saying about the birds and the bees.
The Mirror Has Two Faces
" 'Does the imagination dwell the most upon a woman won or woman lost?' " Asher asked Renfield as he stood in his bedchamber and waited for the valet to finish tying his cravat.
"Tennyson, my lord?" Renfield asked politely. He had been the earl's human servant for over sixty years. With a flourish he finished tying the Oriental, a clever new twist in a long list of cravat styles, at all of which the valet knew he was the master.
"Yeats."
"I take it Baron Huntsley is the reason for your question?"
"As always, you are correct. How does this look?" Asher asked as he glanced into the oval gilt-framed mirror, studying his reflection.
"Outstanding, my lord," Reinfield replied somberly, brushing a speck of lint from a black superfine evening jacket. "I take it you are still annoyed about the opera singer and that unfortunate wager several years ago."
Asher scowled, soothing back a tangle of chestnut hair from his forehead. "She should have been mine. Bloody embarrassing losing the chit to Huntsley, especially after half of White's knew of the wager. Who knew the silly creature would prefer to give her favors to Huntsley rather than me? I had no idea the hussy had such deplorable taste."
"I can't understand it, Master," Renfield replied dryly. He put down the coat and held up two jeweled stickpins. "Diamond or ruby?"
"Ruby, I think, tonight."
"You know, sir, you could have cheated on the wager and mesmerized the singer."
"That, Renfield, would not be sporting. A wager is a wager." Placing the ruby pin in his cravat, Asher turned to face his valet. "How does this look?"
"Perfection, my lord."
Turning back to the mirror, Asher waited for Renfield to slide his evening jacket over his shoulders. "This time, Huntsley will be the one with egg on his face. The baron will be devastated to lose Clair Frankenstein to my sweet seduction. It is the perfect plan. What makes it even sweeter is that Clair is special. She has a quality I've not seen or tasted before." After he uttered the words, Asher felt again just how true they were. Clair was unique, and she would be his. And somewhere deep inside his glacial heart, a tiny sliver of ice melted, warming him. He knew instinctively that Clair would never bore him. She had a passion for life that would remain long after her death and quite likely would spice up their mating rituals.
Renfield made a final yank on Asher's jacket, smoothing its line. "Ah yes, the Frankenstein female. Isn't she the one that chases pigs? Are you sure you want her, my lord? Eternity is a very long time."
Though the valet spoke in a flat tone, Asher could sense the man's disapproval. "Quite." He gave Renfield a thoughtful look. "I am only giving Clair her first mark tonight." He knew his valet was not sure about the upcoming addition to their household. A new mistress would change the routine and rhythm of the house. Renfield would not take that lightly, being the old stick in the mud that he was.
"Hmm… The first mark. That will enable you to read any intense feeling she might have."
"Yes. It will enable me to tell just how passionately she feels for the baron."
"And the other six marks which will enable you to make her your consort? When will those be given?" Renfield asked stiffly.
"Do not fear yet, Renfield. I will give her marks two and three at the house party, but the rest will have to wait a month at least. You know it is dangerous to bring a human over too quickly," Asher said, thinking of the methods of marking a mortal for eternity. Mark two would enable him to read her dreams. Mark three would make her susceptible to his will. Marks four and five would make her stronger, sensitive to sunlight, and entirely under his control. The last two marks would make mind communication between the two of them possible and complete her transformation to the living dead.
"This will be our little secret." The warning was a command, one that Asher's valet could not willingly break.
"I hope the baron doesn't get wind of this. Won't he see the bite on her neck at the houseparty?" Renfield asked worriedly. "And Miss Frankenstein strikes me as a rather independent sort of lady. I don't think she will go gently into that good night. I take it, my lord, that you will be using your mesmerism talents?"
"You are a master of strategy, Renfield," Asher quipped as he placed his wolfhead ruby ring on his finger. "I won't be biting her neck this time, although that is my favorite place. I will choose a less obvious spot, since Huntsley and Clair have not copulated yet. Perhaps those delicious breasts."
Facing the mirror, he scrutinized his reflection, a look of cold pleasure on his face. "What do you think, Renfield? How do I look? Shall I make the fair maiden swoon?"
"You are a god. Miss Frankenstein will be overcome by her good fortune," the valet remarked stoically.
"I don't pay you enough, Renfield. Remind me to raise your salary in the morning."