The Demon Count Novels by Anne Stuart

Author:Anne Stuart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2015-05-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two

THERE WAS SOMETHING very wet and icy cold on my neck, interfering with my embarrassingly erotic dreams. I batted away at the hands that were pressing the compress on me, and felt them imprisoned in a strong grasp. Stubbornly I clung to my state of sleep. I was dead, I had no intention of giving up this pleasant dream any sooner than I wished to.

My tormentor thought differently. My hands were loosened, and I snuggled back amid the soft covers, prepared to drift off once more, when I was spattered with myriad drops of cold water. My eyes flew open in rage.

“Hell and damnation!” I began, and then faded out. I was in Luc’s bedroom... the warm candlelight was strong enough to tell me that much. Sitting on the bed beside me and holding a cold compress to my neck was my murderer, an amused, rueful expression on his face. He reached into a golden basin and splashed me with more water for good measure. I was too astounded to say a word, just continued to stare at him in shock.

“Little one, do not look at me like that,” he pleaded, a note of laughter in his voice. “I couldn’t resist; you looked so gullible. I had no idea you would faint.”

His words made no sense. “Am I dead?” I asked with great practicality.

He pulled the compress away, and I could see faint traces of blood on the wet cloth. Dipping it into the basin and wringing it out before reapplying it to my neck, he kept his eyes averted. I squirmed as the icy material touched my skin, and reached out to capture his hand. That was one of many mistakes.

“Am I dead?” I repeated, holding onto his hand like a lifeline.

He smiled that bewitching smile. “No, mia Carlotta, of course not. I let my wicked temper and my even worse sense of humor get the better of me. You were staring up at me, convinced I was all sorts of fiends, and I decided to prove you were right. I only meant to scare you.” He looked truly repentant, an unusual expression for Luc del Zaglia. Repentance and something else played over his expressive countenance.

Without another word I let go of his hand, sitting up abruptly, determined to leave the bedroom. I was unceremoniously pushed back against the pillows. Luc’s contrition hadn’t lasted long.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, and a shiver ran down my backbone.

I struggled against his hand, fury and embarrassment fighting for control. “To my room, of course. You’ve had your amusement at my expense. I want to leave.”

“My dear child,” he said sweetly, tossing the compress in a corner and bending over me, “I have not yet had my amusement with you. You are going to stay in this room until I send you away, and you will not leave a moment sooner.”

As I looked up into his hooded, topaz eyes there was no mistaking his meaning. But I was still unable to grasp it.

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