She looked down. Following her gaze, Jacob saw the arm she grasped was the one he'd cut for her medicine. Now his blood was on her skin and her skirt. When he picked up the towel from the table again, she didn't object as he wiped her palm down. There was nothing he could do for the stain on the skirt. "My apologies."
She nodded, watching him with an oddly mesmerized expression. "You're fortunate I didn't wear white. I would have taken great pleasure in punishing you for staining it."
Such a threat from a vampire should have been terrifying. So why did he only feel arousal as the fingers of her free hand drifted over the .cut?
Get a grip. She needs more than your cock at the moment. Thomas had warned him she had an astounding and often infuriating way of bringing a man's lust into every situation. Right now though, worry was taking precedence.
Her hand stopped drifting, clutched in a sudden spasm. Though she was a petite woman whose head barely reached his shoulder, he was sure he'd have the imprints of her fingers on his forearm and possibly the bones beneath for some time. Pain was part of being a human servant, though. When he'd stood before the altar in the monastery chapel, the blood clotting on his back and making him lightheaded, his body screaming for relief, he'd understood that. Thomas had been preparing him with the flogging. Physical suffering would be part of accepting his lady's regard, and never allowed to distract him from her care.
Therefore, despite the increasing strength in her grip, it was the convulsive movement and the trembling in her hand which shot his attention back to her face. The lines around her mouth had deepened, giving him warning. "My lady."
When she slumped in the chair, he caught her. Her hair tangled in his fingers.
"Take me to the door, Jacob." Her lashes fluttered, showing him her green eyes briefly. "It will be all right then. Driver… Mr. Ingram, should be out there. He'll get me home."
Chapter Five
She wasn't inviting him to go with her. He could get her to the door, maybe to the car, and that was all. He could hardly contain his frustration.
Thomas had said it might take time to gain entry into her household. He'd come up with several different strategies for Jacob to execute over time, the manicure being just the first. So while Jacob had not planned to be unsuccessful this night, he'd been prepared to deal with it if he was. However, Thomas hadn't known there was something wrong with her. Having seen the strange disease which had taken her servant, Jacob felt his heart clutch with dread, his mind filled with questions. All of his plans to be patient were blown away by the fact she obviously needed a protector far more than Thomas had realized.
But the way she'd looked up at him, trusting him at least for this moment, pushed away the disturbing thoughts. He propped her gently in the chair and retrieved from the pine cabinet several things not necessary for a manicure. Forearm gauntlets carrying a variety of silver-tipped wooden shafts and small knives, and a nine millimeter handgun. He shucked the hose, thrust his legs quickly into a pair of worn jeans and tugged on a pair of boots under them before putting the gun in its belt holster on his back waistband. Quickly he laced the gauntlets to his forearms and checked the triggering mechanism. Shrugging on a long-sleeved navy blue shirt, he buttoned enough buttons to hold it on and conceal the gauntlets and gun, though it was loose enough to allow him access to them.
At least there was one good thing about her loss of consciousness. He was certain when he reached for the weapons she would have put his face through a wall, suspecting he was a trap sent by her enemies. The truth might elicit the same reaction. He just didn't feel their first meeting was the appropriate time to mention that among his many past career choices he'd been a vampire hunter. He'd hoped for a more casual and affable moment to interject that into the conversation, though now he was wondering if the woman ever had a relaxed moment.
This one had been forced upon her. Bending, he scooped her up in his arms. As her head rolled inward, her cheek pressing to his chest, he had the gratifying and humbling experience of knowing she'd relinquished all control to him. The gods always had a backwards way of offering opportunities to prove oneself.
When he got to the foyer, he found the limo was in the middle of the parking lot under a lamp. Prompt and ready as she'd said.
"Is she okay?"
Martin, the security guard, spoke from the reception desk. Jacob nodded. "She drifted off. I'm going to make sure she gets home." Trying to sound casual, as if it were nothing unusual. He'd worked it out that Martin had accepted him as Max's replacement for the evening, but he knew this could easily stretch the boundaries if he acted as if anything were amiss. "Max warned me sometimes she nods off like this. Late hour and all. Think she's on some of those designer mood drugs for anxiety."
"She's an odd one, she is. Rich folk." The guard shook his head.
"Her limo's here. Can you go out and ask him to come right to the door?"
Martin immediately rose. "Sure. Be right back."
As the guard left through the glass doors, Jacob felt his charge rouse.
"Put me down."
Glancing down, he saw she was looking at him like an irritable cat who'd found herself in the jaws of a drooling Labrador.
"You fainted, my lady."
A self-mocking smile touched her lips. "Just like a Victorian heroine. Put me down, Jacob."
He let her feet drop to the floor but kept his hands at her waist, supporting her as she swayed. "I'm not living up to the formidable image I'm sure Thomas described," she commented.
"He said you were harmless as a kitten." He recalled vividly the way she'd shoved him to his knees earlier with barely the pressure of two fingers. Responding to her arch look, he added, "I'm sure your past is littered with men foolish enough to underestimate you, my lady. I won't be one of them."
He still saw the traces of red in her eyes like the banked fires of Hell. "It seems I should learn not to make the same mistake about you," she said. "Only time will tell, for both of us. Your hose… where did you learn to wear them?"
It was an odd question for the moment, but he responded automatically. "I used to work the Faire circuit, my lady. As a jouster and sword fighter. Sometimes a juggler and a fool. I've been in the circus as well."
"That's where you picked up your courtly mannerisms." She blinked at him, and he nodded.