Banner by Vampkiss
Banner by Vampkiss
Chapter 32
Spike stared at the Slayer’s reflection as she sat before
the vanity having her hair artfully arranged by one of the Marchioness’
servants. She looked tired – most likely due to the fact that she’d yet to
adjust to the evening social life of the Ton. Instead of sleeping the morning
away to recover from the preceding night’s festivities like most of the upper
crust, she was up with the sun – her occasional naps throughout the day doing
nothing to renew her strength.
With the recent shift in their relationship, and Spike could only assume she’d
settled in and accepted the situation after their activities the past few hours,
he’d have to start keeping her in bed with him while he slept. He didn’t like
seeing her worn out. Made him feel like he wasn’t taking care of her properly.
And, if that thought spoke too much about his softening emotions towards his
wife, Spike just attributed it to the fact that she was his, and it was his
responsibility to look after her welfare. Anything besides…
No, he wasn’t ready to go there yet.
A self-preserving need to escape the delectable Slayer had him throwing over his
shoulder, “I’ll let you finish up here, pet,” before he beat a hasty retreat
from the room.
Downstairs in Renee’s study, he helped himself to a drink from her bar, pouring
several fingers full of the amber liquid into a glass from one of the bottles
and throwing back the contents in one long swallow. When that did nothing to
alleviate the directions of his thoughts, he poured another…and then another.
He’d just poured a fourth when he was startled by the dark-haired vampiress.
“We’re only going to the theatre, mind. No need to get sloshed before we depart.
I hear this one’s quite good, actually,” Renee gently chided the blond-headed
master vampire as she came into the room.
Spike spun around, so deep in though he’d not heard the other approach. Not
responding to the vampiress’ remark, he instead lifted his tumbler, saluting the
Marchioness before sipping at the contents this time.
“Is Buffy about ready?” Renee asked. “We’re dining with the Earl of Valasay and
his wife before attending the theatre. Afterwards, I’ll drop you round your
residence…or Whitt’s.” A delicate arc to her slim brow indicated where she
thought he should go, but otherwise, her outward appearance showed no hint of
her subtle nudging.
“She was getting her hair coiffed and will be down directly. Valasay…they’re
human, right?”
“Yes. You were probably introduced at Buffy’s come-out ball,” Renee replied.
“I’m sure you’ll recall who they are once you’ve a face to put with the name.”
Spike felt the Slayer draw near and glanced away from the vampiress towards the
door. A moment later it opened and he was quite proud that he managed to prevent
his jaw from dropping open in astonishment. When he’d left her, she’d only been
wearing her undergarments, saving her gown for later, once her hair was
complete. It was a good thing too, because right now he wanted nothing more than
to throw her over his shoulder all haul her back upstairs. He closed his eyes
and mentally counted to ten to calm his raging lust…when that didn’t work, he
went to twenty.
It didn’t help. Even with his eyes closed he could still see her. Her blood red
dress as it practically molded to her slight frame, its color an exact match for
the ring and necklace he’d given her.
Renee glanced over at the master vampire and tried not to roll her eyes. Men!
Seeing Buffy fidgeting uncomfortably in the doorway at her husband’s lack of
greeting, she took matters into her own hands.
“Buffy! Aren’t you a vision!” she greeted her friend, leaving William behind and
crossing the room to where she stood.
“Are you sure?” She glanced down at her dress. “Spi-William doesn’t seem to like
it…” Her voice trailed off, somewhat hurt at Spike’s lack of greeting. Here
she’d thought that they’d had a slight shift in their relationship. ‘Just
goes to show you what you know,’ she mentally chided herself.
“Nonsense,” Renee told her. She leaned down, whispering in her friend’s ear,
although she knew the other vampire would be able to hear every word she said,
“Poor man is struggling with his desire to see you both back in bed, is all.”
Her sudden blush matched her gown at the vampiress’ blunt words, but she smiled
nonetheless because her husband had liked her outfit. While planning her
trousseau, she’d come across the fabric, had taken one look at it, and knew
she’d had to have it. Mrs. Rothworth and Renee had exclaimed over the color,
while a couple of the human ladies had blanched at the rich, vibrant red. She’d
not been persuaded, however, even as Elizabeth. Had bought it solely with her
husband in mind, something that would complement the jewelry he’d gifted her
with. And she’d been eagerly waiting the day she’d married him so that she could
put away all the soft pastels she’d worn. Marriage allowing her a broader
selection of color choices in her garments.
She had Renee to thank for retrieving the dress for her. It wasn’t something
that she would have consciously worn tonight, but in hindsight, it was the
perfect ensemble. She’d wanted to please her husband when picking the fabric. By
wearing it now, it proved – to herself at least – that she was ready to make a
go of her situation.
When Spike hadn’t said anything regarding her appearance, she’d become nervous
and embarrassed that perhaps she’d read too much into what had transpired
earlier. Her friend’s reassuring words had set her conflicted emotions to right.
A conspiratorial smile came to her lips then, knowledge known the world over by
women. The power they had over their counterparts by garbing themselves with a
stunning outfit. Oh, yeah…
She’d reduced the Big Bad to a quivering mass of need.
It did things to her.
Naughty things.
“Buffy…” Renee begged her friend. “Dinner…let’s go. Lord and Lady Woodthorpe are
expecting us.”
“All three of us,” she added, in case the other two – who had started to feast
on the other with their eyes – were left in any doubt that they were coming with
her. Looping her arm through her friend’s, she all but pulled her from the room,
leaving the blond-headed vampire to follow.
~*~*~*~*~
Surprised at the Slayer’s reticence at entering the Earl of Valasay’s home, he
was just about to ask her what was wrong when he noticed the other woman gush
over his wife’s gown. Her fingers had been worrying the ring on her finger,
turning it round and round, until Lady Woodthorpe had greeted her so warmly.
She’d relaxed then, smiling once more as the three of them were ushered inside
the sitting room to wait for dinner to be served.
It had only been later, when the Marchioness had gotten a moment alone with him,
that he’d learned the truth about the dress. To say he was ready to forgo dinner
and the theatre had been an understatement. That she’d had something created
just to please him, and had worn it now as their relationship had begun a fresh
start…
No one had ever done that for him before. Dressed purely for his pleasure. It
made him feel warm. Cared for. Loved.
And the ice that was encasing his unbeating heart thawed just a tad bit more.
After the numerous-course dinner – which Spike would have been glad to see
finished about halfway through, even if the food was delicious; no blooming
onion thing, but still rather tasty – the two men had retired to the earl’s
study, while the women had wandered off to the sitting room. They’d shared a
drink and a smoke, discussed business for a few before they’d both pulled a face
at having to be dragged off to some play when they could be at their club.
“The things we do for the women we love,” the earl commented, clapping Spike on
the back, as he led him to rejoin the ladies.
Love? No, not love? Not yet.
‘Did I just say ‘yet’? Like it was some forgone conclusion?’
He stepped into the sitting room, his eyes immediately drawn to those of the
Slayer. He took note of her softening expression when her eyes came to rest on
him.
‘No…won’t love her. Can’t. Can’t be love’s bitch again. I can’t.’
Renee watched the master vampire and was about ready to give him a swift kick in
the pants. If any two people were meant to be together, it was they. Stubborn.
They were both stubborn; although, not so much with the Slayer now. She was more
guarded, as if afraid of William’s rejection. But, she was at least open to the
possibility. It was the vampire she was going to have to work on. Make him see
that loving someone didn’t lessen his status.
~*~*~*~*~
Within the security of his box seat, Spike stifled the sigh that nearly came to
his lips. Beside him, the Slayer was once more sound asleep, her head resting
softly upon his shoulder. The warmth of her skin scorched the length of his arm
where she leaned against him. The swell of her breast as it brushed against him
with every breath she took, causing his earlier lust to return. Not that it had
really abated…not in the least. Every move she’d made since hearing the
Marchioness’ story – the fingering of her ring, which he’d noticed she did when
nervous, the gentle brush of her fingers across his mark, her smile and easy
camaraderie with the dark-haired vampiress – just increased his desire to see
her home. From the subtle looks she shot his way when she thought he hadn’t been
looking, she wanted the same thing.
To be home. In bed. Mouth and hands roaming over each other’s bodies.
Spike twitched in his seat to relieve the pressure against his rock hard cock.
He had to concentrate on something else. Anything that would take his mind off
the sleeping Slayer resting so trustingly against his side. He’d just about
succeeded, concentrating on the scene playing before him on stage, when he felt
her shift, her body snuggling deeper into his side as she attempted to get
comfortable.
‘Bloody hell!’
Behind him, he heard the Marchioness stifle a laugh. And, he swore he’d have
words with her for making fun at his plight. The utter cheek! His only
comfort…knowing that she wasn’t immune to what was going on in the row in front
of her.
But still…
Trying to get the Slayer to stop moving, he slipped his arm around the back of
her, hauling her closer against him. She settled once again, drifting further
into sleep as her body seemed to sense his secure embrace.
Thankful that she’d finally gotten still, Spike stared at the play and allowed
his mind to wander. To the intermission earlier, and the Slayer’s meeting with
his “father.” The Marquee had naturally gushed over his daughter-in-law,
insisting his son’s wife call him “dad” since she’d recently lost her own. Her
eyes had welled up with tears at the comment, something for which he’d have to
question her about later. He didn’t like to see her cry. His demon rebelled at
the thought that someone had hurt what was his, confused because she seemed to
be smiling through her tears while she nodded and blubbered out her affirmative
to his father’s request.
Her heartfelt response had triggered a spontaneous invitation from the Marquess
for the two of them to join him for dinner tomorrow night. His wife had accepted
immediately before turning shamefaced to him at her slip. Spike had just smiled
and nodded his assent, unexpectedly happy at seeing her own hesitant smile in
answer.
Looking around at the masses that were clamoring for both of their attention
during the short intermission, the Marquess had excused himself, his parting
shot about seeing them on the morrow. They’d mingled until curtain call was
announced then returned to their box to watch the second half of the show.
Now, as the last note was sung and the sound of clapping filled the theatre,
Spike heaved a huge sigh of relief that his torture had come to an end. Nudging
the Slayer awake, he gained his feet.
Finally!
Now they could go home, and he could do what he’d wanted to do from the moment
she’d appeared before him wearing that gown.