“No.”
“Well, perhaps it has changed titles.”
Simone was incapable of coherent thought. She had to be alone, to consider this in a rational manner. It could not be true. This could not be Gideon. At least not him in 1520.
And yet, she could not shake the disturbing tremors that raced through her body.
“I must go.”
Mary turned to glance at her in surprise at her sharp tones. “You are pale. Do you not feel well?”
“I am a trifle dizzy,” she replied in all honesty.
“Shall I call for a servant?”
“No.” She pressed her hands to her tightly clenched stomach. “I will return home. Thank you for revealing the portrait. It is quite ... astonishing.”
Mary frowned with concern. “When you get home have a nice, large shot of brandy. It will soon have you set to right.”
Simone smiled but she feared that it would take several bottles of brandy to set her to right. She was uncertain that all of France possessed enough brandy for such a feat.
“Yes, a most tempting notion,” she murmured, turning on her heel to hurry from the room.
She had to ...
What?
Try to pretend that she had not seen the portrait? It was certainly a tempting thought.
She had more than enough to worry about lately.
But she knew that would be impossible. She had seen that portrait and nothing could alter that fact.
For her own peace of mind she had to discover the truth.
Whatever that truth might be.
Chapter 7
From the shadows of the upper gallery Gideon watched as the slender golden-haired woman slipped through the dark foyer and paused to listen for sound that her entrance had been noticed.
He had felt her presence, of course, long before she had even reached the steps of his house. With each passing day he realized that he was more and more aware of the bonds that were being woven between the two of them. Even when she was not near he could sense her in a distant corner of his mind. Almost as if she had been branded upon his soul.
His slender fingers absently toyed with the folds of his cravat.
What had brought her to his home at such a late hour?
Certainly not merely to seek his company, he wryly conceded as she hesitantly edged toward the fine mahogany staircase. She appeared far more like a thief intent on filching his silver than a woman bent upon seduction.
A pity, he acknowledged as his heightened senses caught a whiff of her sweet perfume. His passions ran hotter in the velvet darkness. They swirled through him, searing away the cool logic and leaving him raw with need.
She was here in his grasp. He had only to sweep her in his arms to have her in his chamber. Once there he did not doubt he could soon have her lingering distrust forgotten.
Then he would sate himself in her soft temptation. She would open to him with eager pleasure. And they would join in passions as ancient as time.
Shockingly Gideon realized that his fangs had lengthened even as his body stirred. He wished to believe it was nothing more than the potent bloodlust that lay within every vampire, but he could not make the explanation ring true. He did not desire to feast upon Simone’s blood and watch her die in his arms. The mere thought was abhorrent to him. But if he were to merely taste of her blood and to blend it with his own, they would be eternally linked together. Two souls intertwined ...
He gave a sharp shake of his head.