Alexandra Ivy - My Lord Vampire

She had always considered herself a courageous and even bold woman. Certainly she could be impulsive. But not even her nerve was equal to this task.

So what was she to do?

Allow Mr. Soltern to destroy her life? Flee London and hope to hide herself in a small village where no one would know her?

But surely the vampire would follow her wherever she would go?

Pacing the floor for nearly an hour, Simone at last came to the inevitable conclusion.

She had to go to Gideon.

No matter how often over the past few days she might have told herself that he must either be a monster or a madman, she knew deep within her that he was the only person in the entire world that she truly trusted.

She might not be able to explain why, but with him she felt safe and cared for in a manner she had never experienced before.

Gideon made her believe that she belonged with him, down to her very soul.

Not giving herself time to consider what she was about to do, Simone silently slipped from her room and made her way to the back stairs.

The night was swiftly passing, she realized with a flare of fear, and there was no telling what Mr. Soltern would do if she failed to show at the brewery.

Remaining in the shadows as much as possible she hurried past the rows of elegant town houses, dodging drunken dandies and the occasional servant as she made her way to Gideon’s home. Once there she made her way to the garden and slipped through the narrow door that led to the kitchen.

It was more luck than skill that allowed her to slip silently past the servants who were indulging in a late night dinner and to the back stairs. Thankfully she already knew the way to Gideon’s chambers, and with a hasty prayer that she was not about to make a dreadful mistake she hurried down the corridor and pushed open the door to his chambers.

The room was bathed in shadows, but Simone sensed that Gideon was awaiting her as she cautiously inched her way through the darkness. It was in the thick tension she could feel in the air, and the unmistakable sensation of his dark gaze resting upon her.

She stumbled to an uncertain halt, and at that moment a candle flared to life.

Standing beside the vast bed, Gideon was attired in his brocade robe. With an elegant movement he set the candle on a table and moved to take her chilled hands in his own.

“Simone.”

“Gideon, I ...” She briefly faltered, staring at the starkly handsome features that appeared oddly unfamiliar in the flickering candlelight.

As if sensing her wavering nerve, Gideon gently squeezed her hands, a frown marring his brow as he felt the shudder that raced through her body.

“Simone, what has happened?”

“I received a note from Mr. Soltern,” she admitted bluntly.

He stilled as his dark gaze narrowed. “What did it say?”

“He demanded that I bring my amulet to the brewery.”

“Simone, you cannot allow him to have the Medallion,” he said in commanding tones.

She abruptly pulled her hands free and turned from that unnerving gaze. She could not think clearly when he was so near.

“It is not so simple.”

“What do you mean?” As she remained silent she heard him step forward and felt the warmth of his hands as he gently stroked them over her shoulders. “Simone?”

She closed her eyes, knowing that the moment had arrived when she must confess the truth. That knowledge, unfortunately, did not make the task any more pleasant.

“You have already surmised that I possess secrets,” she said in low tones. “Secrets that I cannot allow others to know.”

“Tristan has discovered those secrets?”

“Yes.” A sob caught in her throat. “I do not know how, but ...”

He gently squeezed her shoulders, his breath touching her cheek as he leaned close to her.

“It cannot be so bad, Simone.”

“Oh yes. It is very, very bad.”

“Tell me, Simone,” he urged softly.

Taking a deep breath, Simone slowly turned. Meeting his steady gaze was perhaps the hardest thing she had ever done. She could not bear to think that the esteem he held her in was about to be destroyed. Perhaps forever.

“I am not Simone.”

Not surprisingly he regarded her with wary puzzlement. “What?”

“I am Sally Jenkins.” The words threatened to stick in her throat and she balled her hands at her sides to keep herself from breaking down completely. “Simone was my half sister, although she would never have acknowledged our connection. I was a bastard, you see.”

Oddly there was none of the shock she had expected to see upon his handsome countenance as he gave a slow nod of his head.

“Your father?”

“Lord Hadwell of Devonshire.”

“And your mother?”

“A mere governess of Simone’s. She died when I was born.”

Without warning his hand reached up to lightly touch her near-white cheek.

“I am sorry.”

His obvious sympathy when she had expected anger and recrimination was nearly her undoing and she was forced to bat back the threatening tears.

“It was not so bad while my father lived. He insisted that I be given a home with him and even a measure of schooling with Simone’s new governess.”

He grimaced as he accurately surmised how her presence in the Hadwell home had been received by Lady Hadwell.

“Which no doubt did nothing to endear you to his wife or daughter.”

She could not prevent her shudder at the memory of those wretched years she had spent at the mercy of Lady Hadwell and Simone. No words could express just how evil and vindictive they had been.

“They hated me,” she at last said with simple honesty. “Lady Hadwell called me a disgraceful slut and Simone did everything possible to make my life a misery. Even the servants thought my presence an embarrassment to the household. Only my father ever showed me a hint of kindness.”

The fingers cupped her cheek. “My poor dear.”

Her eyes darkened as she was forced back to those days she had hoped never to recall.

“It only became worse once my father died. I was commanded to become Simone’s maid.”

His features hardened with anger. “I suppose they hoped to humiliate you.”

“Yes.” She gave a humorless laugh. They had more than humiliated her. They had stolen every hope she had harbored for a future untainted by their spite. “And when Simone wed Lord Gilbert I was taken to that horrid house where I was not allowed to speak to anyone but my sister.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Why did you remain?”

“I had no choice. Simone ensured none of the other servants would help me. And the few occasions I did attempt to flee she made certain I was properly punished.”

“What did she do?”

Simone paused. Never before had she revealed what she had endured at her sister’s hands. It was astonishingly difficult to force the words past her stiff lips.

“She beat me,” she at last managed to admit in harsh tones. “Of course, she beat me for every mistake I made, whether they were real or imagined. But the last occasion ... an infection set in and I nearly died. In truth, I prayed to die.”

His fingers tightened upon her cheek as his gaze darkened to a smoldering ebony.

“Would Lord Gilbert not come to your aid?”

“He was past eighty when they wed and he rarely left his chambers. The only reason Simone wed him was because he was extraordinarily wealthy.”

“And close to death?”

“Precisely.” Simone’s stomach clenched as she recalled her sister’s callous anger when the elderly gentleman continued to cling to life day after day. An anger that she regularly vented on her hapless sister. “She hated living in isolation at the estate and less than six months after his funeral she was packed and prepared to travel to London. She was not about to waste an entire year on mourning a gentleman she barely tolerated.”