Angelica had no idea what he’d planned, but certainly she hadn’t expected to be hustled along to a very proper, very expensive-looking hotel—La Maison—as she was. Voss breezed in through the main door as if he weren’t dressed in the most outdated trousers and his face wasn’t marked with dirt and smoke. Hers likely was as well, Angelica realized, and remembered the blood from her nose. She ducked her head to hide her face, mortification flushing her cheeks. What was he thinking?
Without pause, he directed her up a flight of stairs to a third story, produced a key and flung the door open to a well-furnished chamber. Light from the new sun poured through three tall windows, cascading over two chairs and a chaise, a screened-off corner next to a footed bathtub and a small fireplace. And a large bed. Her body went cold, and then warm, and then shivery. She did not look at him.
“Blasted chambermaid,” Voss muttered, still standing in the entrance. “Told her to keep the curtains drawn.” He looked at Angelica almost sidewise, his lips pressed flat as if he were trying to be casual…yet perhaps a bit discomfited. “If you don’t mind?”
She walked into the chamber, a bit dazed, but realized with a start that he meant for her to close the drapes so that he could enter. Angelica walked over to do so, opening the windows to allow the summer breeze access. One of them was actually a glass door leading to a small balcony, and she walked out onto it to look down over the creamy buildings of Paris. Then she came back in, pulling the light under-drapes closed and leaving the heavy over-curtains pulled back in their original position. Still, the room was much dimmer than when they’d entered.
It occurred to her at that moment what an awful, dark life a vampir must lead.
It also occurred to her that, with the sun rising, they would be safe—at least for the day—from any pursuit by Moldavi’s vampirs.
She turned to look at Voss, who’d come into the room now that it was safe and closed the door behind him. The snick of a bolt told her he’d secured the door, and her heart stopped.
Was he locking someone out, or locking her in?
He stood in the shadowy alcove of the doorway, his dirty white shirt tight over broad shoulders and a V of golden skin showing from where it had come undone at the throat. The purple and red neckcloth she’d recognized from her dream hung loosely around his throat. He was so handsome, a creature of every shade of gold and honey. So warm and rich. Her mouth became dry and she had a flash of the memory of those full lips closing down on hers. He still held the dark bundle of coat in his hands, and she saw him clasp it closer to his belly in a short, quick jerk.
They stared at each other for a moment, their eyes meeting, holding. Even the flare of light in his golden-green ones didn’t send a warning bolt rushing through her.
“Angelica.” His voice was little more than a breath, yet it sounded as if he were in pain.
“Thank you,” she managed to say and broke away from his gaze. What now? What did they do now?
“Are you hurt? At all?” He remained where he was, across the chamber. But his eyes scanned over her as she dropped the cloak, and she felt the weight of them as if they were his hands.
Angelica shivered. If only… “I’m not hurt.” She remembered her bloodied nose, and knew she had bruises elsewhere on her from the horrible horseback ride and her vain attempts to escape. But she supposed her fate could have been much worse at the hands of Moldavi.
“Well, then. A bath might perhaps be in order,” Voss said suddenly, briskly. He turned away, but not before she saw a flash of white at his lips. Fangs.
Angelica swallowed again. Had she left the frying pan and fallen into a blazing fire instead?
But, yet…this was Voss. Hadn’t he ordered her away from him when he sneaked into her bedchamber? If he meant to attack her, he could easily have done it then. Nor did he have to send for Corvindale when he took her to Black Maude’s, when he stopped his own attack.
No. It was clear that Voss didn’t intend to hurt her.
He didn’t intend to hurt her. But the look in his eyes…
“A bath… Oh, yes, please!” she replied, looking down at the once-beautiful rose-pink gown. She’d been wearing it for nearly a week. Torn, stained, the ruffles and trims flattened… The frock would never be the same. She hadn’t had the courage to glance in the mirror, for fear of what she’d see.
“Right,” said Voss, pausing as he dug through a satchel. “I was speaking of a bath for myself…but of course, ladies first.”
She looked over at him, surprised at his lack of chivalry— and then saw that he was smiling in jest. Her mouth softened. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice low. “Truly.”
He looked away, and his face settled with what was surely pain. “I shall call for a bath and leave you to your privacy.”
“No,” Angelica said before she could think. “No, I don’t want to be left alone. Please. I’ll forgo the bath…if you can stand me unwashed.”
Voss laughed this time, and although he moved stiffly, seemed easier. “Not only do I not wish to ‘stand’ you unbathed, but I also wouldn’t dream of imposing my own unwashed self upon you. I do believe it can be managed with a modicum of propriety, my dear. If you will trust me.”
Those last words hung in the air between them and, as if realizing what he’d said, Voss suddenly turned away. “There is a screen, you know,” he said, gesturing to the corner.
“Yes,” she replied.
He walked over to a row of four bell pulls, obviously each for different needs, and yanked on the second one.
“What’s wrong with your arm?” Angelica asked, noticing that he’d continued to favor his right side. He’d hardly been able to lift it to reach for the bell pull, in fact.
Voss glanced at her. “Of all the questions you might have asked me, that’s the one you choose? Not, ‘Where did you come from, Voss?’ Or ‘How did you find me?’ ‘Why are we here?’ Or even ‘What are we going to do now, Voss?’”
Angelica smiled in spite of herself. She liked this man. “Ah, but I wouldn’t call you Voss,” she replied, her voice dropping in a way that made her flush.
Their eyes met again, stopping her heart, making her belly flip and flutter. Making her want…something.
His eyes were hot, so hot and so vibrant that she could sense the need from him even across the room. Even from that simple connection of gazes. He took two rapid steps toward her, then halted, spinning half away as if he’d been shot.