My Lord Eternity

"The woman." The man moved forward, suddenly revealing the short but deadly sword he clutched in his hand. "Necklace."

Lucien carefully backed out of reach of the sword. He was an Immortal, but that did not mean he could not be injured, or even knocked unconscious, leaving Jocelyn at the mercy of this soulless man.

"Be gone with you," he ordered in stern tones. "You shall not be allowed to have the woman."

"Pretty necklace," he rasped, moving relentlessly forward.

Realizing that he had no choice but to rid the house of the dangerous intruder, Lucien backed toward the center of the room, where he would have more space to maneuver. Thankfully the man eagerly followed his path, not realizing his danger. Keeping his gaze upon the sword, Lucien feinted with his dagger, leaving himself seemingly open to attack. As expected, the intruder lunged forward for the kill, unprepared for Lucien to swiftly vault to one side and come at him from behind.

Locking his powerful arms about the man, Lucien heaved him off his feet. Then, ignoring the muted struggles and offensive smell, he carried him toward the open window and tossed him through. There was a dull thud as the man hit the ground below. Astonishingly, however, he was swiftly upon his feet and scrambling toward the nearby alley.

Lucien was preparing to slip out and follow the servant back to Amadeus, when he heard Jocelyn suddenly cry out.

"Lucien."

As he hesitated, he felt an unexpected pain bite deep into his shoulder.

Cursing his foolish inattention, he spun around to discover yet another servant standing with the sword that had been dropped.

Blast himself for a fool. He had been so intent upon the intruder, he had not suspected that another hovered out of sight. A near-catastrophic assumption. His lack of wits could easily have allowed Jocelyn to be harmed. The mere thought sent an icy chill through his blood.

Ignoring the blood he could feel flowing from his wound, he clutched the dagger and waited for the servant to attack. It took only a moment as the man gave a mindless growl and heedlessly charged forward.

It was a simple matter for Lucien to dip low as the villain reached him, grasping the fool by the legs and neatly tossing him through the window.

On this occasion he managed to keep his wits about him, and rather than watching the servant plunge to the ground, he maintained a close guard on the room.

Against a far wall he could see the frightened form of Jocelyn, but there were no other shadows in the cramped chamber. Slipping toward the bed, he carefully ensured that there was no one hidden beneath and then moved to search the narrow armoire.

At last convinced that they were indeed alone, he slipped the dagger beneath his jacket and heaved a rueful sigh.

"They are gone."

As if some spell had been broken, Jocelyn gave a low cry and abruptly charged forward.

"Oh, Mr. Valin ... Lucien ... are you harmed?"

He grimaced as he carefully kept his injured shoulder turned away. This maiden was certain to question how he was capable of receiving a deep sword wound and healing within a few hours.

"Only a trifling scratch, and only because of my own foolishness," he assured her wryly. "I was so intent upon impressing you with my skill that I blundered into forgetting there might be a second villain. Thank goodness he was as inept as his partner."

His light words were greeted by a lingering frown of concern. "You are certain you are not in need of a doctor?"

"Absolutely certain."

"At least it must be cleaned," she persisted.

Although pleased by her obvious concern, Lucien realized he needed a distraction. He could not allow her to examine the wound. Already the bleeding had halted and the flesh was beginning to weave a smooth bond.

"I will tend to it later." Firmly he moved to gaze out the open window, not at all surprised to discover that the second villain had disappeared as well. The Inscrolled slaves would be indifferent to any injury, no matter how grievous, in an effort to return to their master. His attention moved to the iron pipe that ran close to the window from the gutters above. That no doubt explained how the intruders managed to enter the house undetected.

"They must have crawled through the window," he murmured.

She crossed to join him. "Yes, it was open when I stepped into the room." There was a startled pause. "They have disappeared."

Realizing that she had expected to discover two broken bodies in her garden, he gave a negligent shrug.

"Yes, the drop is not far."

"Still—"

"At least they are gone," he firmly interrupted, reaching out to grasp her shoulders and turn her to meet his reassuring gaze.

"Yes." A sudden shudder raced through her body. "But why were they here?"

He softly stroked the tense muscles of her shoulders, wishing he could assure her that she need never fear again.

"Desperate thieves, no doubt."

She gave a slow shake of her head, her brow pleated in unease. "They spoke of a necklace.

My necklace."

Lucien sternly kept his expression unreadable. He had hoped that she had not overheard the rasping words of the intruders. It would be difficult enough for her to forget the terror of having her home invaded without worry they might return for the Medallion about her neck.

"Perhaps they noted the amulet when you entered the room and presumed it worth stealing."

"I suppose." Her expression remained filled with doubt. "It is still very odd."

Stepping closer, Lucien carefully encircled her in his arms, hoping to surround her with his strength.

"Let us not dwell upon it, my dove. They are gone and I do not believe that they will soon return."

There was a short pause before she slowly lifted her head to regard him with a somber expression.

"I am relieved you were here."

Lucien stilled, caught off guard by her soft words. Then slowly he smiled deep into her darkened eyes.

"So am I," he whispered gently, wanting nothing more than to ease the fear that lingered within her. This maiden should know only joy, he told himself fiercely. And he would do whatever in his power to see it done. "You see, for a frippery fellow, I do have my uses upon occasion."

To his great relief, a measure of her tension eased and her lips even twitched with reluctant humor.

"Upon occasion, I suppose," she conceded.

He lifted his brow with a wicked glint smoldering in his eyes. "I have numerous other uses beyond rescuing damsels in distress, if you would only allow me to demonstrate."

Despite her best attempts, she could not entirely prevent the faint hint of color that touched her cheeks.

"I believe you have demonstrated quite enough for one evening."

"Ah, but that was only a taste."

"Really, Mr. Valin," she protested in breathy tones.

His hand lifted to lightly stroke the soft skin of her countenance. "I believe you called me Lucien earlier. Such formality is surely unnecessary between friends."

He heard her catch her breath as she abruptly spun away, as if to hide her expression from his searching gaze.

"I think it best if we—" Without warning her words came to a halt and she took a step

toward the bed. "What is that?"

Lucien frowned as she reached out to pluck a scrap of paper from the heavy quilt. "I haven't the least notion."

Holding the paper in fingers that visibly trembled, Jocelyn moved toward the window, where the moonlight offered a silver glow.

"Miss Kingly," she read aloud. "They are dying. Will you save them? It is in your hands."

Five

Jocelyn was uncertain how she discovered herself flat against the wall with Lucien standing directly before her and his hands planted on each side of her head.

One moment she had been slipping on her shawl, preparing to leave for her nightly visit to the streets, and the next she had been swiftly maneuvered toward the wall by an angry gentleman who was currently regarding her with smoldering golden eyes.

"No, Jocelyn," he gritted out between clenched teeth.

With an effort Jocelyn gathered her composure. After a restless night, followed by a long day brooding upon the two thieves who had so rudely intruded into her home, she had been determined to shake off the lingering unease.

Certainly she had been unnerved by the strange thieves. And even more so by the mysterious note they had left behind. But she could accomplish nothing by cowering in her house and fearing every small noise.

She had already learned her lesson in attempting to hide from life. After her scandal, she had done her best to disappear. For weeks she had remained in Surrey, rarely leaving her chambers except when she was certain she would be alone. She had wanted only to flee the pain and embarrassment somehow.

But as the long, dark days had passed, she slowly realized that she was being ridiculous.

Surely she possessed more courage and worth than to dwindle to an old, bitter spinster with nothing but regret to fill her memories?

Perhaps the future that she had thought would be hers was gone, but that did not mean she could not find a purpose to her days.

She would face the world bravely. She would help others. Her life would be filled with more than shame and fear.