My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(20)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

The Medallion.

The pale eyes glittered in the thick darkness.

His desire for the powerful amulet was becoming nearly overwhelming. He could feel it in the distance. A shimmering temptation that taunted him by remaining just out of reach.

"Master."

Amadeus turned to discover his most recent servant shuffling into the dark room.

"What is it?"

"I have brought the glove."

"Ah, yes." Moving forward, the vampire plucked the glove from the man’s outstretched hand.

Earlier in the day he had commanded the servant to slip into Miss Kingly’s home and procure a piece of her clothing. He grew weary of the woman’s stubborn refusal to accept his generous offer of friendship. And even more weary of Lucien’s unwelcome interference. Tomorrow evening he would attempt a more direct means of acquiring the Medallion. But first… "I must hunt another mortal for my experiments. Have this body tossed in the river."

Even for a summer day it was hot.

Golden sunshine bathed the remote meadow in a brilliant afternoon light, the faint breeze spiced by the scent of wildflowers.

But it was not the cloudless sky or the unfamiliar heat that was causing the faint moistness that trickled down Jocelyn’s back.

Oh, she might adamantly tell herself that the rapid pace of her heart and unmistakable fever in her blood came from the sun overhead. And that her mouth was dry from the heat. Unfortunately she could not quite make the thought ring true.

Instead, she very much feared it was the tall, lean gentleman who was currently pressed behind her with his arms around her. Although he was officially attempting to teach her how to shoot the bow and arrow she currently held in her hands, very little of her mind was upon the lesson. How could she possibly concentrate upon anything beyond the delicious curls of excitement that were running rampant through her?

It was indecent; she attempted to chide her wayward reaction to his proximity. She knew nothing of this gentleman who had so swiftly invaded her home and her life. He was as much a mystery as the day he had first walked into her study.

And yet, with every passing hour she discovered herself more and more drawn to his dazzling presence. In just a few days he had awakened within her all those unpredictable passions and thirst for life she had thought safely put behind her. And worse, she was uncertain whether to curse him or bless him.

All she did know was that when she was with him she forgot all the pain and darkness that had marred her life. She did not think of the scandal that had ruined her future among society.

She did not think of her parents, who had turned her out of their home. She did not even think of the danger that suddenly shrouded her in fear.

There was nothing but Lucien and the gentleness of his smile that could reach her very soul.

Seemingly unaware of her growing weakness, Lucien leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek as he pressed her arms higher.

"Now pull back slowly," he commanded, waiting until she had pulled the bow tight. "Yes.

Hold your arm steady."

Glaring toward the target set across the open meadow, Jocelyn grimaced at the low words.

She had already attempted to hit the blasted thing on a dozen occasions. Lucien, of course, had proven to be just as efficient an expert with the bow and arrow as he was at everything else. He had managed to hit the bull’s-eye with every arrow he sent winging toward the target.

It was decidedly maddening.

"I am trying," she muttered.

"Concentrate upon the target."

His fingers brushed over her arms left bare by her blue muslin gown. Jocelyn gritted her teeth at the sharp pleasure that flowed through her.

Concentrate? When he was so close that she could feel the very heat of him searing her skin?

"I see the target," she retorted in tart tones.

"No, concentrate upon it until there is nothing else," he corrected her in that dark, honey voice. "Now breathe steadily."

Knowing that it was impossible to concentrate upon anything but the gentleman pressed so intimately against her, Jocelyn heaved a sigh.

"Surely it cannot be so difficult to fly an arrow toward a target?"

"Do you wish to learn the proper technique or not?"

"I suppose."

"Then, concentrate." Keeping his hands upon her arms to help her aim, he waited until she had managed to steady her swift breaths. "Now."

At his command, Jocelyn abruptly let the arrow fly, thoroughly astonished when it actually managed to head in the proper direction, and even caught the bottom of the target. It promptly bounced to the ground, but she did not care.

"I hit it." Grinning broadly at her success, Jocelyn spun about to confront Lucien. "Did you see?"

An indulgent expression spread across the delicately chiseled countenance.

"Yes, I did see. But you allowed your arm to dip when you released the arrow. Would you care to try again?"

"Good gads, no," she retorted with sincere weariness. "I shall be stiff for the next fortnight as it is."

The golden eyes sparkled at her blunt confession. "Very well."

Realizing that she was standing much closer than propriety allowed, Jocelyn reluctantly stepped from his tall form. It was far too easy to forget propriety when she was with this gentleman, she acknowledged ruefully.

Not that she particularly cared about the rigid rules of society any longer. She had already lost that battle. But, she was still a lady, and she would not allow herself to behave as a common tart. Her honor was all she had left.

"Perhaps we should return," she forced herself to murmur. "Meg will begin to fret if we are gone too long. She can be rather protective of me."

His smile was rueful at her vast understatement. "So I had noticed. Still, it does seem a pity.

It is a beautiful day to be away from the clutter of town." Jocelyn lifted her face up toward the golden sun-shine. It was beautiful. She had nearly forgotten how lovely the English countryside could be. Sur-rounded by the dark, grim streets of London, it was easy to become lost in its depressing gloom.

Now she allowed herself to breathe deeply of the sweetly scented air.

"Yes, it is," she whispered, allowing the peace to soothe her troubled soul. "I forget how quiet it can be."

His golden gaze lingered upon her upturned countenance. "Quiet enough to hear the beat of a heart."

Jocelyn abruptly stilled at his odd words.

No. It was simply not possible. She could not hear, and certainly she could not feel, the beat of his heart. It was absurd. Mad. And yet… there was the oddest sensation within her. As if she were connected with this man in a manner that defied logic.