Alexandra Ivy: My Lord Vampire

It was a home fit for a Countess.

And it was all hers.

The smug satisfaction only deepened as Simone allowed her emerald green gaze to wander over the numerous guests who filled the crimson and gold parlor. Politicians, poets, scholars and aristocrats mingled together in happy harmony. Her salons were famous for assembling only the brightest, most intellectual of London's society, and invitations were battled over more fiercely than any voucher to Almack’s. In fact, she had been forced to hire a large butler who had one time been a champion in the boxing ring to guard her door from those who would force their way into her home. It appeared that anyone who wished to be considered all the rage had to make an appearance at a party hosted by the “Wicked Temptress.”

Not bad for a woman who had spent the past twenty-three years isolated in a remote part of Devonshire and who had never thought to enter society, let alone become the undoubted leader.

“Another stunning success, my temptress,” a low, seductive voice whispered close to her ear.

Simone gave a last glance to ensure all was well before turning to greet the short, portly gentleman who was regarding her like a prospective morsel he longed to have a taste of.

“Good evening, Lord Braceton,” she murmured, tilting her head so that her long, shimmering blond hair tumbled over her shoulders left bare by her dark emerald gown. She heard the older gentleman suck in a breath and she hid a satisfied smile. Since her arrival in London she had discovered her beauty was a potent weapon that could not be underestimated. Along with a bold, determined style and cunning elusiveness she had managed to create precisely the image best to tantalize the jaded members of town. “I trust you are enjoying your evening?”

An intelligence that had led him to be one of the most dangerous and powerful politicians in the House of Lords sparkled in his blue eyes.

“As well as could be expected considering I would prefer to damn this lot of insufferable bores to the netherworld so that we could be alone.”

“Bores?” She arched a golden brow. “I will have you know that I carefully chose each guest for their ability to charm, tantalize or entertain me.”

“Indeed?” The gentleman stepped closer, his gaze sweeping hungrily over her slender curves. “And why was I chosen, my dear? To tantalize, I hope.”

“Comic relief, of course,” she smoothly parried.

He stiffened briefly at the insult, then a grudging smile curved his thick lips.

“Such cruelty from such beauty,” he mourned softly. “Tell me what I must do to win that cold heart of yours.”

Simone gently waved her ivory-handled fan, her gaze returning to study the guests that moved through the room.

“I do not believe it is my heart you seek to win, my lord.”

“Perhaps not.” He gave a chuckle. “A fortunate thing considering that most among society do not believe that you possess the finer sensibilities. The more romantic, of course, presume that you buried your ability to love with your dear, departed husband. The more envious claim you were born heartless.”

It was a testament to her sheer strength of will that Simone managed to appear languidly unconcerned at the charge. She briefly wondered what this gentleman would say if she revealed that she had felt nothing but contempt for Lord Gilbert, and that it had been her own sister who had destroyed her youthful heart.

“Ah, and what do you believe?” she drawled with supreme unconcern.

Lord Braceton shifted closer, risking one of Simone’s notorious flayings.

“I believe you are simply awaiting the proper gentleman to awaken your slumbering emotions. No matter how cold and aloof you might wish to appear you cannot completely disguise the heat that shimmers in your blood. It is why we poor sods continue to flutter about you like moths drawn to the flame. No matter how often you singe our battered pride we simply cannot resist temptation.”

Simone deliberately shifted away from the portly form. Although she was quite willing to indulge in a bit of flirtation, she was always careful to ensure that none of her admirers managed to convince themselves that she would be willing to be seduced.

“How very dramatic you are on this evening intended for frivolous pleasure,” she lightly chastised, her emerald eyes darkening with a hint of warning. “The price no doubt of possessing a flamboyant and highly temperamental actress as your current lover.”

There was a startled silence at Simone’s daring words before his lordship tilted back his head to laugh with rich enjoyment.

“A meaningless distraction until the object of my desire agrees to halt tormenting me,” he assured her with a twinkling gaze.

Simone gave a shake of her head at his persistence. “Really, my lord ...” She began only to tense as she felt an odd prickle race over her skin.

A chill inched down her spine as Simone realized that someone from across the room was watching her. Watching her with such intensity that she could physically feel the relentless gaze as it made a lazy survey of her slender form.

It was a sensation she had never experienced before, and she discovered that there was something unnervingly intimate in the warm heat gliding over her skin.

Thrusting aside the strange sense of unease, Simone forced herself to turn and discover the source of that bothersome gaze.

It took a moment to discover the tall gentleman standing alone in a distant corner, but when she at last caught sight of him, her heart stuttered to a sudden halt.

Although he was properly attired in a black coat, pantaloons and a crisply tied cravat, he bore no resemblance to the other gentlemen that lounged about the room.

Well over six feet there was a raw, elegant power in his lean form that Simone could sense even at a distance. It was in the manner he leaned negligently against a marble column and in the arrogant tilt of his head. Her gaze narrowed as she studied the pale, finely chiseled features that were framed by his long, satin hair the shade of polished ebony.

His male beauty was enough to steal her breath.

Against her will she found herself lingering upon the aquiline nose, the high thrust of his cheekbones and sensuous curve of his lips. There was a compelling strength and unrelenting pride etched into those features that sent a rash of warning down her spine.

This was not a gentleman who could be toyed with and kept at a safe distance. He was a conqueror who would stride through the world and take what he desired.

Then, she lifted her head to meet the black, brooding gaze and her knees nearly gave way.

There was a searing heat in those eyes that flared across the room and swept through her body. Simone reeled in startled bewilderment as she was helplessly trapped by that dark regard.

Suddenly she understood precisely how a fly felt when it stumbled into the web of a spider.

“Dear heavens,” she whispered softly.

At last realizing that he had lost her attention, Lord Braceton turned to follow her gaze.

“What?”

“Who is that gentleman?” she demanded as she struggled to regain command of her shattered composure.

The older man heaved a heavy sigh. “Mr. Gideon Ravel. He just arrived in London with his two cousins from the Continent. Seems he’s related to some aristocratic family or other. They made quite a stir when they appeared at the Croswell’s ball last week.”

A shiver raced through her. She could imagine that this man would make a stir wherever he might be. Even now her guests were glancing in the stranger’s direction and whispering in low voices. Mr. Ravel remained splendidly unconcerned at the obvious interest in his arrival as he continued to regard her with that unwavering gaze.