LOVE BITES Page 0,67

as boring as a wedding were it not necessary for Etienne to go.

Rachel had tried to argue the issue until it was pointed out that she could hardly use her bank card or credit card as either would lead the police directly to her--and she hadn't yet gained control of her teeth, so being found wasn't an option just yet. Promising herself that she would repay the woman once her life was returned to normal, Rachel had acquiesced. And since the woman was paying for it all--even if only temporarily--she felt Marguerite should have the major say in what she wore.

Fortunately, the gown Etienne's mother chose was Rachel's favorite. Created of dark blue lace over a long satin underdress, it was off-the-shoulder, featuring a fitted bodice and long tight sleeves of lace. Rachel felt absolutely beautiful in it, despite the fact that the skirt was a touch long. There were shoes made of the same material. Fortunately, the heel was just high enough that the gown was no longer too long.

"Here you are." The wig girl stopped and opened a door, then held it for Rachel and Marguerite. Rachel led the way into the room. A young woman was seated at a table filled with cosmetics, obviously waiting for them. She jumped up at their entrance and rushed forward to greet them, and ushered Rachel and Marguerite to sit at the makeup table. After ensuring neither of them wished refreshments, the girl asked what they wanted, and Marguerite explained about the wedding, the color of the dress, and so on. Within moments the girl was working on Rachel's face, murmuring over the purity and healthy color of her skin.

Rachel didn't say anything in response to the girl's compliments, rather distracted as she was by gaping at her face. She had noticed that makeup wasn't as necessary anymore, but hadn't really taken a close look. Now, in the magnified mirror the girl held out, Rachel simply stared at herself. Her skin was as smooth and soft as a baby's bottom. She marveled as the girl worked on her face, answering questions rather absently and agreeing with most of the woman's suggestions.

Marguerite suggested a beauty mark be applied to aid in disguising her, and Rachel found herself suddenly sporting one above her lip on the left side. The small addition, combined with Vicki's artistry and the wig, really made a difference. By the time they were done, even Rachel thought she looked exotic. She couldn't stop looking at herself as they moved to another mirrored room where both her nails and Marguerite's were shaped and painted.

"Well, that was fun," Marguerite said as they got back into her limo.

"Yes," Rachel agreed. She felt pampered and pretty, but also a touch guilty that she hadn't paid for any of it. "Thank you."

"You are more than welcome, my dear. And please stop feeling guilty. It was my pleasure to do all this."

The woman put the whammy on her as she gave the order. The guilt Rachel had been experiencing melted away, so she knew it. However, she decided not to resent the woman's slipping into her brain, instead deciding to enjoy it. Guilt was really no fun at all.

"Here we are."

Rachel glanced out the window of the limo as it came to a halt in front of a house. A huge house. Not Etienne's.

"Where are we?" she asked in surprise.

"My home, dear," Marguerite answered. The driver got out from behind the wheel and walked around to open the door for them. "Etienne is going to meet us here to ride to the church. That way I can decide what jewelry you should wear."

"Oh." Rachel followed her out of the car. What kind of jewelry would a vampire own?

Etienne tugged at his tie, then promptly straightened it again, only to tug irritably at it once more. He hated wearing ties. He hated tuxes, too. Why had he agreed to be in this wedding party? He was more a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy, which was why he enjoyed working with computers. He didn't have to wear business clothes to work. He only had to dress up for meetings with the company that produced and distributed his games.

Etienne readjusted his tie and sighed as he paced his mother's salon. He supposed ties were better than the cravats he'd been forced to wear when younger. That fashion craze had been one huge pain. Most of the clothes in the early eighteenth century had been rather foppish, although