Chapter 13

After what had seemed like minutes, but had in all actuality been several hours, her lady’s maid, Heather, woke her to get her ready – at her chaperone’s insistence – for a luncheon with a small gathering of a few of her close friends. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Elizabeth didn’t even bother to protest, didn’t ask who these people were, just drug her weary body from bed and slipped into the steaming water that filled the tub tucked behind the privacy screen.

Later, dressing in the gown Mrs. Rothworth had picked out – a soft lime green creation that brought out the color in her eyes – she’d walked down the hall leading to the banister, eyes momentarily lingering on the closed door of her guardian, then descended the steps under the approving eyes of the vampiress.

“You look wonderful, child,” she murmured softly before they both bundled into outerwear to protect them from the pouring rain.

Once inside the carriage for their short trip to the Marchioness of Haversham’s residence, Mrs. Rothworth told Elizabeth about the small gathering of women that would be present.

Buffy listened intently, never before having realized that these monsters… vampires… lived among them.

“So, the Marchioness…Lady Atherton, she’s like you…a vampire?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes. She’s widowed. Has been about five years now. Her husband, he was a vampire as well. Theirs was a love match, but that story will have to wait for another time. Suffice to say, our Renee is one of the Aurelius darlings. And, she’s just going to love you.”

“Really?”

“Trust me, child. Now… there will be other…human members of the ton present at our intimate gathering. Appearances and all. It’ll be a while yet before you attend an all-vampire function. For now, I’ll just point them out as we are introduced.”

Elizabeth just nodded, overwhelmed.

“Now, where was I? Oh… oh yes. Her Grace, the Duchess of Sevring will be there – she’s human. The annual ball she holds will be your first formal appearance…and that’s in a fortnight. Lady Celeste Devlin, the daughter of the Duke of Rutherford...she’s also human, although her brother, The Marquess of Brummidge, isn’t…but, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll just stick with the people we’re meeting today.”

“Yes, please,” Elizabeth whimpered, already confused. It was bad enough having to remember their names, but then to throw in whether they’re vampire…or human – her naïve mind boggled at the mere thought.

“The other two ladies are the Countess of Valasay, who is human, and the Countess of Darderwyne, who is a vampire. Just the crème de la crème of society for your first introduction. As Lord Thornton’s new ward, your entrance has been practically guaranteed among those of society’s unsuspecting. As the claimed human of a master vampire, it’s a given.”

Elizabeth’s mind wandered over the implications of her newfound status. She just prayed those lessons of deportment from long ago would allow her to hold her own – she was just country gentry, the only daughter of a country baron. She wasn’t sure she fit in among the ton’s elite society.

“… has set the tongues to wagging coming back after such a long departure, and his father on his deathbed.”

“Father?” Elizabeth croaked, catching the tail end of her chaperone’s conversation.

“Yes, the Marquess of Chadsworth. I suspect Lord Thornton will hie himself off to Chadsworth Estates for a day or two to check in on the Marquess. It’s probably why he was in such a foul mood yesterday. The two never did see eye to eye. Didn’t help that rather than bow to his father’s dictates, he went out and made his own fortune. The man is rich as Croesus and will have all the mothers and their daughters of polite society in a dither trying to land him.”

“Huh?”

“My dear, your guardian is the biggest catch next to the Duke of Abberly and the Marquess of Eaglethorp.”

“But…he’s mine,” Elizabeth practically shouted at the vampiress. ‘Good Lord, did I just say that?’ Across from her, Mrs. Rothworth laughed delightedly, just as the carriage came to a stop.

“I know that, dear.” She smiled at the brunette girl and patted her hand. “It’s just that everyone else doesn’t. Now, let’s go mingle, shall we?”

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip in hesitation, then nodded at the older woman.

~*~*~*~*~

The pouring rain provided an excellent backdrop to Elizabeth’s sour mood – not that any hint of it showed on her face as she sat among the intimate gathering of England’s well-known nobles. It seemed like it had been almost dawn before she’d finally fallen into an exhausted sleep in William’s study, after having spent half the night tossing and turning in her bed in the room located down the hall from his. She’d waited for him, unsure what she had done to set him off and cause him to storm from the carriage like that, but she’d waited in vain…had finally slipped from her bed and stole down to his study to try and get closer to him.

Well, the essence of him, anyway.

He’d been further away from her last night than he had been when he’d left her waiting in the countryside while he’d gone off alone to London.

Now as the soft laughter of The Marchioness of Haversham broke into her reverie, Elizabeth ignored her feelings of melancholy and tried to make a good impression for the ladies present.

They’d all made her feel right at home, especially Lady Atherton – just as her chaperone had predicted – greeting her warmly, eyes glowing almost yellow as she regarded Elizabeth.

“Does take one getting used to, Renee,” Mrs. Rothworth had whispered to the vampiress.

“Yes,” she’d replied, the fingers of one hand reaching out to trail along the girls cheek. “Smart vampire, our Lord Thornton…keeping the claim strong.”

“Master vampire, Renee.”

“Mmmm… yes. You can smell him all over her.” Elizabeth had blushed at that, but was prepared for the comment, having been told previously about a vampire’s excellent sense of smell.

“So, when do we get to meet our wayward Lord Thornton?” the Marchioness had asked Mrs. Rothworth, reluctantly moving away from her charge. Her smell was intoxicating and she needed to remove herself from the temptation.

“I don’t know the Lord’s immediate plans, although I do know that he’ll be attending the Duke of Sevring’s ball.”

“I should hope so. He’s been absent for far too long,” she’d called over her shoulder, leading them towards the sitting room where the others had been socializing.

She’d introduced Elizabeth with the warm familiarity of a long lost friend and the other women in the group quickly enveloped her in the inner circle. It was all she could do to keep their names, faces, and humanity straight as she greeted one woman after the other, curtseying low to the women around her.

If her chaperone wasn’t absolutely positive of her place among this group, Elizabeth might have cowered among the high-ranking noblewomen surrounding her. As it was, she settled in among the group as if she were assured of her right to be there. She watched the eyes of Marchioness of Darderwyne widen as she was introduced, but other than that, there was no noticeable sign that the vampiresses were any different from the other ladies present.

There had also been a tense moment when Elizabeth had actually met Lady Devlin’s brother – her vamped brother – as he’d escorted her sister to the small gathering before leaving for his club, and almost shuddered at the gleaming light that had come into his eyes as she’d curtsied before him, only to dim slightly as he’d realized that she’d belonged to another. Swallowing at what her fate might have been, she murmured her greetings and practically plastered herself to her chaperone’s side until he’d left.

Now that it was time to leave, she was grateful for Mrs. Rothworth having arranged this little gathering for her benefit. It had proved enlightening to see how they – the vampires – had interacted among the other humans in the group. She felt somewhat better about herself that she wasn’t the only one that hadn’t noticed any differences among the assembled group. The Duchess was just as in the dark as she had once been…what? a week ago?

With a gracious smile to her host and the others, she bade her goodbyes and left with her chaperone, promising to call on them again before the Duchess of Sevring’s ball next week.

~*~*~*~*~

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, child?” Mrs. Rothworth asked as soon as they got out of the deluge and were settled comfortably in the carriage.

“They seemed very…nice.”

Mrs. Rothworth laughed at that. Nice. No not nice, never nice. She liked to think practical. They couldn’t go around killing off all the members of the ton. It was a balance – intermingle with society and feed on the unsuspecting… the unnoticed.

“Oh, you are a delight. Now we must hurry and get home. We’ve an opera to get ready for. Just a little something to get you out in the public eye without anyone really able to engage you in conversation. Although, with the earl back in town, that may prove more difficult than I had planned.”

“Sounds lovely,” Elizabeth replied behind a yawn.

“Maybe a little nap might be in order first. Not sleep well last night.”

Thinking of William and his sudden disappearing act, she frowned, then sighed.

“Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure he’ll make it up to you. He won’t be able to ignore you for long before the lure of your blood calls to him.”

Elizabeth flushed but didn’t say anything. There was nothing she could say. She just prayed that lure, or whatever it was, worked fast. She missed him…and his touch.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike looked down at the sleeping slayer leaning against his side and suppressed a grin. The girl had the right of it. Struggling to hide his own yawn, he deftly hid her snoozing status from any of the prying eyes in the theater. It helped that their box was situated so as to not allow others to see them well.

Praying for intermission, he zoned out as the fat lady sang…literally.

‘About bloody time!’ Spike thought to himself as the curtain finally dropped to the last strains of the aria leaving the woman’s mouth. He carefully nudged the slayer awake as Mrs. Rothworth slipped one arm under the girl’s elbow to assist her in standing.

“Is it over?” she asked William sleepily.

“No, pet, but we are. Time to get you home and in bed. I think we’ve accomplished what we needed to. Am I right, Mrs. Rothworth?”

“Yes, I can safely say Elizabeth will be the topic of discussion amongst the ton this evening.”

“Good. Now let’s get out of here. This damn opera is putting even me to sleep.”

Behind him, Mrs. Rothworth silently agreed. They could have been out having a nocturnal adventure instead of sitting inside and cringing at the overly loud music as it grated over their sensitive ears.

As the trio stepped into the lobby, many tried to stop their exit out into the night sky. Spike’s look stopped all but the most zealous of people. Assuring a few that he’d be by his club tomorrow, he was able to forestall a long conversation with the two gentlemen.

Then they were free of the crowded lobby and outside hailing their driver – who quickly spotted them and moved the horses forward on an intercept course. The coach had no sooner come to a stop that he was scooping the slayer up in his arms and depositing her inside, quickly following behind her so that the vampiress could slip in after him. A quick jab of his cane put the conveyance in motion.

The lulling motion eased the slayer back into slumber and Spike let out an aggrieved sigh before settling the girl in his lap as they made their way back to his townhouse. He buried his nose in her neck and inhaled her scent, completely ignoring the woman seated across from him. After leaving her alone last night, his body radiated with sexual tension…and he couldn’t wait to get home to ease the ache only she seemed to relieve.

Chapter 14

Spike set the slayer on her feet and watched as she glided up the walkway next to the older vampiress.  She looked quite fetching in all of her finery, but he’d gotten used to woman wearing a whole lot less.  Still… 

He turned away from her to dismiss the coachman before following the two women inside.  He nodded to the butler who greeted him with a stiff, “Good evening, m’lord,” and caught a glimpse of the slayer as she moved along the banister and out of sight. 

Figuring that she’d be a while with her maid, Spike walked to his study and poured himself a liberal dose of the brandy.  For being stuck in the past, this situation wasn’t half bad…he could actually get used to the bowing and scraping that came with being a titled nobleman – something that hadn’t been the case when he’d been the poncey William, his pre-vampire days.  Now, with the ton clamoring for his presence, Spike had to grin at the irony. 

Another thought caused the smile to slip away, a frown marring his features.  He knew he had a "father" - but he thought that they were "estranged."  But, apparently the old man was on his deathbed, if the summons glaring up at him from its place on his desktop were any indication.  He eyed the seal of the Marquess of Chadsworth and resigned himself to another visit to the countryside.  Although, what his father would want with him, was anyone’s guess. 

He snorted into his glass before downing the contents in one long swallow.  Crossing to the bar, he refilled his glass and settled behind his desk to go over the correspondence that never seemed to clear from the surface.  All the while, he waited for the sounds of the various heartbeats resounding in his ear to slow, signaling their slumber. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike stepped inside his room and dismissed his valet.  He crossed the interior of the room, his stocking feet making no noise on the wooden floor, as he stood before the mantle of the fireplace.  The flickering flames provided the only light in the room while he sipped idly at the brandy held loosely in his grasp.  He gazed at the fire as his mind drifted over his current predicament. 

He’d been in sticky situations – hell, the incident in Prague had been a close call – but nothing like this.  Since his turning, he’d always had his Sire, but now he found himself alone, only the slayer (and he was still laughing at the irony of that) for company, and his only means of returning.  And the fates, or those bloody Powers, forcing him to claim the girl to keep her alive indefinitely…it was their fault he was feeling this way.  

It went against everything a vampire was, stood for. 

But, as he twirled the amber liquid in his glass before swallowing the remaining contents in one long gulp, he found that he couldn’t seem to care.  And therein lay the rub.  Spike, William the Bloody, Master Vampire of the Aurelius line…was falling for the slip of the girl currently ensconced in her room down the hall.  The slayer of slayers was becoming a traitor to his kind.  His dark princess was fast fading to a distant memory the more time he spent with the girl.  His sire, the dark-haired vampiress that had gifted him with immortality, was just a blurry image in his mind…and he hated it. 

So, he blamed the Powers.  Shoot, he blamed Drusilla for getting hurt in the first place – thus forcing him to come to the Hellmouth in order to seek out her cure.  If he hadn’t come to Sunnyhell, he would never have encountered the slayer, never have lusted after her even while plotting her demise, never have slipped his fangs into her neck and sipped the delicious nectar of her blood, would never have found himself stuck in this internal struggle. 

Refusing to dwell any longer, he pushed away from the mantle with a snort.  Want. Take. Have.  That was a vampire’s motto.  The slayer was his…so, if he wanted her, he’d take her.  And damn the consequences. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Elizabeth was having a wickedly sinful dream.  Her lover was there, in her bed, doing pleasurable things with his hands and tongue.  Somehow her nightgown had been stripped from her, leaving her nude body open to his gaze.  She felt his hands slip lower, felt one finger as it teased the opening of her slit, coating the digit with her desire.  Her hips bucked off the bed as first one and then another slipped inside her passage. 

“More,” she demanded. For in her dreams, she was able to shed the virginal attributes of her upbringing and give in to her baser nature.  She sighed with pleasure when she felt a third finger join the other two…but it still wasn’t enough. 

Showing an uncanny amount of strength, she pushed him to his back and settled herself on top of him.  She heard him growl and glanced down at his vampiric features.  Using both hands, she ran them over the ridges above his brow in a soothing caress.  His eyes closed, shielding his amber gaze from hers, and leaned into her touch. 

Moving her hand from his face, she trailed them over his sharp cheekbones and along his neck muscles.  Emboldened by her lover's reactions, she moved lower, running them over the black leather covering his shoulders, and down along his stomach hid by the black tee.  Her hands hovered over the button to his jeans and she gazed back up at him…unsure how to proceed. 

“Spike, I need…” 

In a flash she was on her back, her legs spread wide as William filled her with his length.  The remnants of her dream blurred, the sudden burst of sensation between her legs forced her eyes open to lock with those of her lover.  Her legs lifted, wrapping around his lower back and holding him in place. 

Spike’s hips pistoned back and forth, suddenly overcome with desire at her brief show of strength and aggression.  He wasn’t going to last long this first time, could already feel his balls tightening with his impending release. Slipping his hand between their joined bodies, he stroked her clit.  His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt her inner walls clench around him as her orgasm slammed through her body. 

Gritting his teeth, his pace increased until he too gave into his body’s demands.  With a hoarse shout, he sunk his fangs into her neck, drinking her blood as his cock pulsed with his spendings. 

The second penetration coaxed another orgasm from her body, and she could do nothing but hold on tightly as the sucking sensation at her neck triggered an answering thrum at her core. 

He collapsed on top of her and Elizabeth gloried in the feel of his weight.  She winced slightly as he pulled his fangs from her neck then sighed in pleasure as his tongue laved the fresh marks. 

“Mine,” she mumbled, “don’t care what she says…” 

With a contented sigh, she drifted off to sleep…only to be awoken an hour later by her insatiable vampire.    

~*~*~*~*~ 

“What are your plans for today?” he asked the vampiress. 

Mrs. Rothworth looked askance at him eating “human” food, but didn’t comment.  Far be it for her to question the habits of a master vampire.   

“Actually, we’re staying in.  Going to let the excitement build as far as Elizabeth goes.  Although, I suspect we’ll receive a few visitors from the small gathering we attended yesterday.” 

Spike grunted.   

“I’ll be gone a few days to Chadworth Estates.  I’d prefer if Elizabeth were to stay here, inside, while I’m gone.  Throw a small party here…whatever.  Just stay inside.” 

The vampiress gazed at the master vampire, but seeing the set features of his face, wisely chose to nod her head in assent.   

Spike, for his part, hated to leave the slayer…worried that her memories were going to come back while he was rusticating in the country with his father, answering the demand for his presence.  He would have taken the slayer with him, but he’d already be flying by the seat of his pants once he confronted the Marquess – he didn’t need the added mix of his “ward” thrown in as well.  Really, he would have preferred to not show at all, but he couldn’t very well ignore the summons from the old man. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

He knew it was the slayer before she even knocked on his door seeking entrance.  Rather than call out, he walked over and opened the door to his sanctuary. 

“You wanted something, pet?” he asked, holding the door open so she could enter. 

She walked into the room as he shut the door behind her, taking in the masculine décor of the space.  She stopped, not facing him, hugging her arms about herself to ward off a sudden chill. 

Turning, she watched him as he leaned against the closed door, arms folded over his chest as he smirked at her.  She didn’t know what was wrong with her…how the thought of him leaving her – again – could make her feel this way.  And the idea of all those women throwing themselves at him…she just couldn’t stand it. 

Unshed tears in her eyes, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms about his waist as she allowed them to fall. 

For his part, Spike looked down at the slayer, arms held out wide as she latched onto him.  He felt her shoulders shaking and sighed in resignation as his arms closed around her back, holding her close. 

“What’s this, kitten?” he murmured into her hair. 

Disjointed words of “mommas” and “catch” drifted up to him in between her sobs, but it was the “mine” and “miss you” that got to him.  Sliding an arm beneath her knees, he lifted her up against his chest and crossed to the chaise lounge.  He sat, settling her on his lap, and proceeded to stroke her hair as he held her close while she cried. 

The sound of her tears was doing crazy things to him.  Her heartfelt sobs were affecting him in ways he’d yet to fathom…made him want to tear out the heart of whoever caused them. 

“It’s ok, luv.  I’m only going to be gone a few days.  I’d take you with me but I don’t think he can handle seeing my ward just yet.  But, I’ll be back before you know it.  Mrs. Rothworth will keep you so busy with callers and such that you’ll barely even know I’m gone.” 

Slipping his left hand up under her chin, he urged her to look at him.  He brushed lips across her forehead, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear.  There he went again, being all soft with her.  But instead of getting angry and storming away, Spike just pulled her close and held her. 

The two remained that way for several moments until reluctantly, he set her away from him so that he could leave. 

“Behave, slayer,” he told her, then was gone. 

Elizabeth watched him leave, her hand held high as she waved goodbye.  He never saw; he didn’t turn around.

Chapter 15

Spike glanced out his carriage and snorted like the prodigal son he was rumored to be.  The cloudy sky cast a gloomy pall over the palatial building and a reluctant smile pulled at his lips that his “father” would exile himself to such a dismal setting.  

The summons he’d received had been unwanted – when he’d read over the small packet of papers given to him by the half-breed demon he’d been thankful that he wouldn’t have to worry about interacting with his “family” – something he thought he wouldn’t have to deal with.  Just one more thing to grumble about.   

They’d been estranged, or so the papers had indicated.  For all intents and purposes, William had turned his back on his father – his wealth and his title – and gone off and made his own fortune.  Spike had to laugh at that…just like him to thumb his nose at tradition.  But, when he’d “returned,” society had easily slipped into calling him the Earl of Arundel…probably at the PTB’s manipulations. 

It was with a heavy dragging of feet – very like a child called on the carpet for some devilry – that Spike stepped down from the carriage and climbed the sweeping staircase to the main doors.  Naturally, the thing swung open before he even had a chance to knock.  

“Good afternoon, m’lord,” the butler intoned in a nasally voice as Spike swept across the threshold.  He didn’t pause, just barked out, “Where is the old man?” 

“I believe the Marquess is in his study, m’lord.” 

“Of course he is,” he mumbled then stopped, unsure where exactly his father’s study was located.  

“This way, m’lord,” the butler spoke after softly shutting the main door.  The old man walked down the hallway, bypassing several doors, before stopping before one near the end of the hall.  He knocked briefly, and at a terse, “Come in,” immediately opened the doors and announced Spike. 

Spike rolled his eyes and sailed into the room as the butler formally announced him to his father.  He glanced at the feeble old man, took note of his narrowed gaze as he settled himself into a seat before the desk at the older man’s gesture.  He was somewhat surprised at the condition of the man – his father.  His vampiric hearing could detect the slowed heartbeat, the wheezing breath that the other tried to hide, but failed. 

He leaned back nonchalantly in his chair and waited for the older man to speak – boredom oozing from his frame as he lounged. 

A reluctant smile came to the Marquess’ lips as he regarded his son. 

“Drink?” he asked, trying his best to ease the tension but retain some sense of authority of the situation.  After nearly ten years of absolutely no contact with his son – the harsh words he’d uttered so long ago, and spoken in haste, that he’d prayed he could call back causing a breach between the two – he didn’t quite know how to begin.  But, as he looked at his son, successful in his own right, he couldn’t prevent the fatherly pride that filled his being. 

Spike, for his part, just nodded and crossed to the bar and poured himself something, waving off the servant that hovered inside the room.  The Marquess saw the gesture and quickly dismissed his servant, leaving the two alone. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” the older man spoke once Spike had resumed his seat. 

A quirked brow was his only response.  Hell, he didn’t know what else to say.  For once, he held his tongue and let the other speak. 

“’M dying, son,” the Marquess stated without preamble.  As if to prove the validity of his words, the man broke into a fit of coughing that eventually ended with blood liberally coating his handkerchief.  Spike just watched the man with unblinking eyes. 

Changing the morbid topic for the moment, the Marquess asked, “So, who’s this ward…a Lady Elizabeth Summers…that I’ve been hearing about?  She actually your ward, or something more?” 

Spike nearly joined the old man in a coughing fit as the bourbon he’d just swallowed caused him to nearly choke. 

“Bloody hell, old man! Who told…” then a, “What’s it to you anyway?”  

In a rare show of spryness, the Marquess just laughed and said, “Come now, William.  The ton is nothing but a bunch of gossiping old biddies…But, actually, you have your friend to thank for putting that little tidbit in my ear.  All my other sources state that Lady Elizabeth is just that…your ward.” 

As if beckoned, there was a brief knock at the door before the butler opened it and announced, “Lord Allen Francis Doyle, Viscount Tellidyne, m’lord.” 

“Lord Doyle, come in.  William, just got here. Why don’t you join us for a drink.” 

Doyle stepped inside and cautiously made his way towards the – he could only assume – silently seething vampire and his “father.”  But, it wasn’t his fault.  He was just the damn messenger.  Fucking Powers and their meddling, leaving him holding the bag! And dealing with a pissed off vampire.  Talk about needing your hazard pay. 

“Lord Thornton…William,” he greeting, grabbing some liquid courage and sitting next to the vampire. 

“Doyle,” Spike murmured softly to the half-breed, leaving no doubt as to his mood.  His quirked brow at the other silently indicated their need for a discussion once the two were alone. 

The vampire was grateful when the old man dropped the topic currently under discussion and settled into more mundane, less personal, subjects.  He couldn’t wait to get the Irishman alone to give him a piece of his mind…to leave him floundering with this situation with his “father” when he’d been given information that the two hadn’t spoken in ten years…he was ready to feed off the older man to save himself the hassle.  He’d surprised himself at the restraint he’d exhibited thus far, and attributed it to the fact that things were done a little differently in this time than when he’d been turned as a vampire. 

And again he wondered what had happened to cause them to stop circulating with humans and retreat to the shadows of the night.  Mentally shrugging, he turned his attention to the other two and grimaced as the Marquess succumbed to another round of coughing and excused himself to retire for a while. 

The two younger men stood when he did and watched as he shuffled to the door. 

“Stay for dinner, William?” the old man asked, his voice weary with fatigue.  Spike glanced up to where he stood by the door, looking at him filled with hope.  He glanced at Doyle to gauge his reaction – the other demon just watched him and waited.  He turned away and glanced at his “father,” could see his face fall as if sensing a denial, and something in him couldn’t stop the agreement from passing his lips. 

The Marquess beamed at him before leaving the two alone, announcing that dinner would be at 8:00pm.   

Once the door closed, Spike turned and was ready to tear the hide off of Doyle.  Opened his mouth to do just that, but the half-breed beat him to it. 

“Don’t look at me…I don’t know what they were thinking!  They’d picked the Earl because of  his estrangement from his father.  Who knew that on his deathbed the old guy would have a change of heart?” 

Just listening to that excuse leave the other’s lips caused Spike to snort in disgust.  He’d had just about enough of these Powers and their plans.  And, why the bloody hell had he thrown the old guy a bone.  He was evil for fuck’s sake!  What did he care if he hurt the wanker…it’s what he lived for – hurt, mayhem, and destruction – all of which seemed to have gone to hell in a hand basket once he’d been sucked back in time. 

“So, tell me, mate.  Why does my “da” think I’ve got something going on with my ward?” The softly spoken question in no way detracted from the menace currently oozing from the vampire.  Beside him, Doyle gulped and held up his hands in innocent supplication.   

“Remember? Me?  Messenger here!” Doyle began, backing up as Spike slowly stalked him.  He looked skyward in entreaty murmuring, “A little help here guys.” 

Spike didn’t even hesitate, just stalked towards the other demon as he continued to back away.  His face shifted, clearly indicating how brassed off he was at being stuck in this current situation – catering to an old man who seemed at death’s door. 

“Spike…look…it wasn’t me.  The Powers…” his voice trailed off as Spike pinned him up against the wall. 

“I think the Powers have done enough.  You’ve dealt me this hand, and I’ve agreed to play it so I can get back home.  But, I’m tired of the aces appearing up your sleeves.  You want me to play nice, you need to back off and let me run the show as I see fit.  No more manipulating me…or the situation.  I’ve done what you asked and claimed the slayer, now back off.  I’m running the show, in case you ‘aven’t noticed.  And, if you wanna see your slayer returned alive and in one piece, you’ll leave me to it.” 

It was an empty threat on Spike’s part, but the other didn’t need to know it.  

“Alright…alright…I’ll relay your message.  Now, can you let me go?” 

Spike snarled once more for good measure then finally shoved the other man away from him.  He didn’t really want to fight with Doyle, but he had to make his position clear to these Powers that seemed to want to keep fucking with his unlife – he kinda liked the half-breed.  Other than the brief stint in the club, he’d yet to really socialize with anyone and he found himself bored.  He was used to action, especially the 21^st century variety and Doyle represented a piece of that – even if he was batting for the other side.  But, beggars can’t be choosers and Spike figured he’d while away the time till dinner with the demon. 

Doyle breathed a sigh of relief that Spike had let him off so easily.  He was shocked as hell when the vampire invited him to sit for a game of chess.  The two spent the afternoon drinking, talking about old times, and playing the strategic board game. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“I trust you had a pleasant afternoon,” the Marquess asked once the first course had been placed before them. 

Spike mumbled a reply which the older man no doubt didn’t hear due to the fair amount of distance separating them as they sat at the respective heads of the table; Doyle was situated at a spot midway down its length between the two.  The vampire rolled his eyes – and in a moment of irony – prayed for deliverance.  With a scrape of his chair he stood, then – much to the astonishment of the servants scattered about the room – he grabbed his plate and walked past the twelve chairs lining one side and sat down on his father’s right.  Doyle also stood and seated himself across from the vampire. 

The Marquess was shocked, yet oddly touched by the gesture, completely overlooking his son’s mumbled remarks about not being able to hear one another as spread out as they were. 

The meal flowed much more easily at that, well…after Spike snorted at Doyle as the half-breed gaped at him for eating human food.  Just because he was a vampire and didn’t need to eat, didn’t mean he wasn’t supposed to eat – he could appreciate a well-cooked meal just as much as the next bloke. 

The three men discussed politics and business - as well as a host of other topics - that kept them entertained long after the three had finished their meal and retired to the Marquess’ study.  Then, the Marquess brought up his reason for summoning his son to his estate, and Doyle swore he could hear the proverbial pin drop in the room.  He nearly laughed at the incredulous expression on the vampire’s face, but one look from said vampire’s face wiped the forming smile right off his mouth. 

“You want me to do what?” Spike roared in his incredulity. 

“I want you to get married, and secure the line of the Thornton’s,” the Marquess roared back, coming to his feet and bracing his arms on his desk as anger overtook him – completely forgetting about how his machinations had alienated his son so many years before. 

“Doyle,” he growled low in his throat as he pinned the man with his glacial stare. 

Doyle raised his hands in an act that claimed his innocence as he slowly backed away from the pair.  “Maybe I should leave you alone…sounds like this is a family matter.” 

“Oh no you don’t!  You’re staying right here,” Spike demanded, eyes narrowed on the other demon until he nodded back his compliance.  Momentarily satisfied, his gaze swung back to his father and he opened his mouth once again to blast the man for trying to interfere in his life once again. 

“Please, William,” the older man finally begged, slumping back into his chair.  “I don’t have long, and I’d like to see you settled – at least with a wife – before I die.  Please.  Grant your father this…” 

Doyle waited to see what the vampire would do.  He watched as the two men eyed each other not saying anything – one pleading, one furious.  And, he knew the vampire was pissed.  He stood there, his body taut, as he fought an internal battle with himself.  Doyle didn’t think he’d do it – had told the PTB's that they were pushing Spike enough as it was and that it would all backfire in their collective faces.  But, they’d been insistent that they could get the vampire to bend to them in this and so had sent their emissary – him – to see if their predictions were right.  More like get his ass killed, but they didn’t find any humor in his prediction.  So, he’d suited up and quickly found himself a guest in the Marquess’ home as they waited for his long lost son to show himself.  

~*~ 

‘Well, Spike?’ 

‘Shut up, I’m bloody well thinking here.’ 

‘You know you’re gonna do it. Besides, you’ve already claimed her.  May as well make her your wife.’ 

‘And what makes you think it’s the slayer I’ll be having?’  But, even as he thought it, images of her flitted before his eyes – her snuggled in his chair, clutching his pillow to her breast.  He could practically smell her scent wash over him as the vision unfolded.  Then, images of her asleep in his bed assaulted him, her heat wrapping around him as he slept the morning away.  Yeah, he could get used to that. 

Fuck. 

He was going to do it. 

“Alright.” 

The Marquess stared, unsure that he’d heard his son right.  “You’ll do it?” 

“I just said so, but I say who and when…My choice of bride won’t be open for discussion.” 

The older man just nodded fervently, not caring if he married a chamber maid so long as he married someone. 

“Now, I’ve got to return to London.  ‘ve a ward to look after and her parents to find.” He turned to the half-breed.  “Doyle, I’ll see you back to the city.”  His tone brooked no argument.  The Irishman just nodded, flummoxed that the Powers had been right all along. 

“I’ll follow in a few days and set up residence in my townhouse.  I suspect I’ll see you at the Duke’s ball?” 

Spike nodded and left the room, Doyle following on his heels. 

After his son was gone, the Marquess bellowed for his butler. “Hodgkins!” 

The dower old manservant opened the study door at the other’s summons.   

“Ready the essential staff.  We’re going to London for the season.  I want to be there in two days!” 

“Very good, m’lord,” he replied, and backed out of the room. 

The Marquess of Chadsworth leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile on his face.  Not even the sudden attack of coughing could detract from his good mood.  His son was back after ten years, and he was going to get married, too.  It was more than he’d ever thought possible.

Chapter 16

The look Spike cast his way dared the half-breed to say something.  Doyle was a smart man – he kept his mouth shut.  For the entire ride back to London, the interior of the carriage lay quiet but for the sounds of the wooden wheels rolling over the graveled road.  The vampire was silently contemplating his “coming” nuptials while the other tried to make himself invisible so as not to warrant the former’s regard. 

In the ensuing quiet, Doyle waited for divine intervention from the Powers as to what in the hell he was supposed to do now.  Apparently, he was still needed, or he would have been whisked away as soon as everything was as THEY wanted it.  But, he had no clue as to what it might be. 

‘A little help here,’ he pleaded, his gaze glancing heavenward in silent entreaty. 

The monotonous rumbling of the wooden carriage was his only response.  Fine.  If that’s the way they wanted to play it… 

With a furious frown upon his face, he settled his arms across his chest and leaned back – as best he could – into the plush seat. 

Spike glanced at the disgruntled demon and couldn’t help but smirk.  It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one having his strings yanked.  He could almost feel sorry for the other demon.  Almost.  But, as what he’d just agreed to do made its presence known, he quickly changed his mind.  Misery loved company, and Spike was lonely.   

~*~*~*~*~ 

Rather than face the slayer and tell her about their forthcoming marriage, he chickened out and dragged Doyle to the club with him.  Well, not chickened out.  Big Bads weren’t chicken.  Far from it.  They were mean, and evil, and all with the “grrr.”  And, he about smacked himself in the head for his stupid internal ramblings.  It’s just…she was in bed, and it was easier to allow the girl to sleep. 

Nodding, he realized he was being kind.  It was the nice thing to do. 

Then he nearly kicked himself… again.  Big Bads were not nice either.   

Fuck it.  He just wanted to get drunk.  Wallow in pity at becoming the Powers’ latest bitch.  Maybe by downing a few bottles of liquor, he could figure out how to not have them manipulate him so. 

As the carriage pulled to a stop before Whitt’s, Spike stepped down, grabbing the half-breed’s arm to make him follow. 

“Be back before dawn,” he told the driver before the two ambled towards the entrance. 

His presence was noted by several nobles, both human and vampire, as soon as he stepped inside.  He left his overcoat with the butler and nodded to several men as he and Doyle made their way towards two vacant chairs, away from the masses.  A servant appeared moments after the two settled themselves in their seats, and Spike asked for two glasses of bourbon. 

“And bring the bottle,” he growled. 

“So, mind telling me what I’m doing here, Spike,” Doyle asked. 

“’S easy.  You wanted me to marry the bint, so you’re just gonna have to stay around and make sure that I do.” 

“Wha?  But I thought you said…” 

Spike quirked his brow at the other man. 

“’M evil, I can always change my mind.  You’re here to keep me company and make sure I don’t.” 

“Fuck.” 

“M’ sentiments exactly.” 

Just then, the servant arrived with the tumblers and requested bottle.  Doyle beat the vampire to the serving tray and snagged the bottle and an empty glass – quickly filling it to the brim before swigging a healthy dose.  The vampire laughed at his gesture, taking the other glass and holding it out for the other demon to fill.  Doyle complied, raising his half-filled glass in silent salute. 

“Ta’ my forthcoming nuptials,” Spike mumbled sardonically, clinking his glass against the others.  Little did he realize that his words managed to carry and news of the Earl’s forthcoming marriage – and a little speculation on who the lucky girl might be – spread through the club like wildfire.  Instead, the two demons proceeded to get thoroughly trashed, both lamenting their current situation. 

~*~ 

“Is it me, or is everyone looking at me kinda funny?” Spike slurred some time later.  He poured the last of the second bottle of bourbon into his glass and eyed the contents contemplatively. 

Doyle glanced around, his blurry eyes taking in the demeanor of several men scattered around the club.  His eyes squinted as he tried to bring their faces into focus. 

“Dunno,” he replied drunkenly, his Irish brogue heavily pronounced. “Can’t rightly see ‘em.  They’re fuzzy.” 

Spike snorted.  “Bloody lot of good you are, mate.  Come on.  Sunrise’ll be here in about an hour, we should prolly get ‘ome.” 

So saying, the vampire staggered to his feet, weaving slightly until his head stopped spinning.  He glanced down at the half-breed as the other tried to make his way to his feet, lost his balance, and tumbled back into his chair. 

“Whatsa matter?  Can’t hold your liquor, mate?” Spike slurred.  Finally, Doyle gained his footing and the two demons stumbled their way through the club towards the exit. 

His carriage was waiting out front, as requested, and the two made a spectacle of themselves as they tried to gain the interior. 

“Bloody ‘ell, quit movin’, you blasted contraption!” Spike roared at the stationary coach.  His hand finally located the handle, latching on and giving a tug downward.  The door swung outward towards him nearly knocking him on his ass – the horses didn’t seem to care for the drunken antics of their master and started to prance causing the carriage to shift slightly.  Spike nearly had his arm torn from its socket at the sudden movement because he still had a tight grip on the handle.  He heard what sounded like snickering coming from behind him and he turned around and pinned Doyle with a glare. 

The Bracken demon, in his drunken state, snorted at the vampire’s attempt to look fierce.  His eyes widened innocently as Spike finally let go of the handle and moved threateningly towards him.  Doyle took the opportunity to hurry around the other side and climb – rather more successfully – into the carriage.  Grumbling under his breath about disrespectful demons, Spike also climbed inside. 

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

“Why do I gotta stay ‘ere again?” Doyle asked drunkenly after almost falling out of the carriage in front of Spike’s townhouse. 

“Because, if I’m gonna be miserable, so are you.  Besides, ‘m evil remember?  You gotta make sure I actually do marry your bloody slayer.” Spike nodded as if that explanation made perfect sense.  “Now come on, I don’t need to become a crispy critter just cuz you can’t ‘old yer liquor and keep falling down all over the place.” 

“Fuck.  Damn Powers…always messin’ with a man.  I could be back home, in real clothes, drinking at a real bar.  But no!  Instead, I’ve got to wear this pansy-ass getup and baby-sit a damn vamp.”  He looked skyward and shouted, “Why am I still here?” 

The vampire’s snort was his only answer. 

Finally, the two managed to stumble their way up the walk and let themselves inside Spike’s home. 

“Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep it off,” Spike told him as he started his way to the second floor.  “You’re about the same size as me, so I’ll get my valet to drop you by a change of clothes.” 

Spike walked down the hallway a bit, then stopped before an empty bedroom.  He threw the door open and gestured to the half-breed. 

“Here ya go, mate.  When you wake up, find me in the study and we’ll go over the particulars.”  He turned away and moved off towards his own bedroom.  Right now, the vampire wanted nothing more than to sleep off the alcohol he’d consumed and pray that today had just been a dream and he’d wake up to find things the status quo. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Elizabeth, completely unaware that her guardian had returned just hours before she’d risen, sat surrounded by several of the women from the previous days’ social gathering.  Even though she maintained an outward calm, inside, she was silently crying.  All everyone could seem to discuss was Lord Thornton’s impending nuptials – and who the lucky girl might be.   

Only the three vampiresses had any inkling of her feelings, their being aware of the master vampire’s claim, but they were hard-pressed to comfort the girl because, to the humans present, she was just his ward, albeit one of a marriageable age.  So, Elizabeth smiled when she was supposed to and answered truthfully, if somewhat somberly that no, she wasn’t aware of who his intended might be. 

A few hours later, her guests finally left.  Celeste stopped before exiting and invited her to an early dinner party her father, the Duke of Rutherford, was having for a few close friends.  Elizabeth, unsure about attending, hesitated a moment in answering, and it was her chaperone that replied that they would be there.  The young girl looked relieved at her acceptance before hurrying down the steps, her own chaperone by her side since her brother had been unavailable to escort her.   

Elizabeth turned towards the vampiress and asked, “Do you think that’s wise?  Didn’t the Earl want us to stay home?” 

Mrs. Rothworth chuckled before grinning like a Cheshire cat.  “My dear, he only said yesterday.  Nothing was mentioned about today.  Besides, we need to whet the ton’s appetite for you and an intimate dinner party will be just the thing.” 

Still unsure, but bowing to the older woman’s wisdom, Elizabeth nodded.  Then, telling the other that she was going to lay down for a while, she quickly fled up the stairs to wallow in the misery of her vampire lover’s impending marriage. 

The vampiress watched the young girl leave and she felt a moment of sadness.  Being human, her charge was unused to the ways of vampires.  It wasn’t uncommon for vampires to take several lovers, except in the rare instance of a dual claiming – and even then, monogamy wasn’t a guarantee.  The girl didn’t realize that just because her guardian was getting married didn’t mean that he wouldn’t still come to her – she was his to do with as he wanted.  His claim on her saw to that.  She just worried about how the girl was going to respond; she’d already argued about the master vampire being hers, and the vampiress could see where the girl was coming from.  In the short time she’d been around her, she’d come to enjoy her wit and childlike innocence – so rare for her nowadays.  She’d hate to see the girl punished over something so contrived as a bit of jealousy.  Although, with the peculiarities the master vampire exhibited, who’s to say that he would actually punish the girl for not being aware of her place? 

Shoving those thoughts aside, she sought her own room.  She, also, could do with a nap, as this was normally the time when she would sleep.   

~*~*~*~*~ 

The sun had just set when the two women left the townhouse for the short ride to the Duke of Rutherford’s dinner party.  When they arrived, the coachman pulled to a halt to allow the Duke’s servants to open the coach doors and assist the women to the ground.  Elizabeth was taken aback by the amount of carriages lining the drive. 

“I thought it was supposed to be a small gathering,” she whispered in an aside to the vampiress as the two made their way towards the front door. 

“Child, he’s a Duke.  Fifty people is a small gathering to him.” 

“Maybe we should go back…I’m not ready…I don’t know…” she paused in her steps, uncertain. 

“Now, none of that.  You look lovely and you’re going to astound them with your grace and poise – both human and vampire alike.  And, I’ll keep the masses away with my overbearing duenna act so that they can look but not touch.  We don’t want the ton knowing too much about you yet.” 

Realizing she had no choice in the matter, Elizabeth allowed herself to be led inside.  She smiled somewhat when she saw Celeste waiting for her, and nearly breathed a sigh of relief when the girl rushed over, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the throng of people gathered near the entrance. 

“I’m so glad you came, Elizabeth,” the girl exclaimed once the two were alone.  “My brother got out of attending and I’m probably the only one here not over two score years.  If you hadn’t come, I would have been bored to near tears!” 

“Well, I’m glad I could keep you from the boredom,” Elizabeth responded before the two dissolved into giggles, momentarily forgetting her upset in the other girl’s presence. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike woke two hours after the slayer had left – the excessive amounts of alcohol he’d consumed and the short amounts of sleep he’d been getting since being thrust into this time period had tapped his reserves until his body had shut down in protest.  He lay in bed, unmoving for a moment, as he waited for the drums banging around in his head to quiet.  Groaning quietly, he vowed – not for the first time – to never get quite that drunk anymore. 

Once the pain subsided somewhat, his other senses kicked in, and he inhaled deeply as the scent of free blood filled his nostrils.  He turned slowly to his right and nearly licked his lips as he eyed the glass filled to the rim resting on his nightstand.  A shaky hand reached out to grab the sustenance, bringing it to his lips to down the contents in one long gulp. 

His bloodlust momentarily slaked, Spike climbed out of bed.  His nude body glistened in the firelight, the taut muscles rippled along his legs and ass as he made his way toward the bath beckoning in the corner.  With a grateful sigh, he slipped down in the heated water until his head was able to rest upon the ledge – his eyes closed in pleasure as the hot water heated his skin.  A reluctant smile graced his lips when he realized that soon he’d have the slayer’s body to keep him warm as he slept. 

Finished with his toilet and now that the water had started to cool, he reluctantly pulled himself from the tub and snagged the towel from the chair.  His manservant still hadn’t shown himself, having been told in no uncertain terms that he was more than capable of bathing and dressing himself.  When Travis had started to object, sensing that he was about to lose his position, Spike had relented and told him that he could still have everything prepared and laid out for him.  His servant agreed wholeheartedly, once more secure in his position, and the two had settled into a routine. 

Finally dressed, Spike let himself out of his room and made his way to the lower level and his study.  As he passed by the room he had given the half-breed, he grimaced when he realized he couldn’t hear the other still inside.  He’d probably never hear the end of it from the other demon.  But, to his credit, he’d drunk far more and he bet he’d had far less sleep than the other these last few days. 

The vampire stepped inside his study and felt better when he saw the condition of the other man.  Although freshly bathed and dressed, the demon still looked worse for wear after his drinking binge.  Doyle was reclined, somewhat, on the chaise lounge situated near the fireplace holding a drink in his hand.  Spike watched as he took small sips from the liquid as if fearing that the contents may not stay in his unsettled stomach.  Chuckling, he fixed himself his own drink and took a seat behind his desk. 

“Remind me to never drink with you again,” Doyle groaned.  “Just kill me please.” 

“Killing you would end your suffering, and ‘m evil, remember?” 

“Fuck you, Spike.” 

The blond vampire cocked his eyebrow at that remark. 

“What?” Doyle remarked at the other’s astonished look.  “Oh please.  You’re not going to kill me and you know it. You like having me around.” 

“Look… just because we had a few drinks…” 

“Oh, stuff it.”  In too much misery – his head was pounding unmercifully and he’d spent the past hour dry-heaving so that there was absolutely nothing left in his stomach – to care about the vampire’s protestations, Doyle cut him off.  Truth be told, he actually liked the vampire; he had a wicked sense of humor, even if it was a tad on the macabre side, and he could play a mean game of chess. And for all his outlandish pre time-travel attire, the vampire could speak intelligently on any number of topics.  “You know I’m right.  It’s probably why the damn Powers have kept me here.” 

Spike refused to agree with the demon even if he may be right.  Ignoring his comment, he changed the topic to his forthcoming nuptials. 

“We’re gonna have to do something about her parents,” Spike commented. 

The abrupt change of topic momentarily confused Doyle causing him to just utter a, “huh?” 

“Her parents, you git.  If she agrees…when she agrees… to marry me, she’s gonna want her parents here.” 

“Oh hell.” 

“Yeah.  So, we’re gonna hafta’ tell her somethin’.  That can be your job.” 

“Wha?  My job?  Why does it have to be my job?” Doyle whined. 

“Because, it’ll be my job to comfort her afterwards when you inevitably fuck it up.” 

“Gee, thanks!  Wait…so, what am I going to tell her?” 

“I don’t know.  Ask your bloody Powers, they seem to have all the answers so far.” 

“Yeah, right.” 

“Come on, it’s getting late, I’m sure dinner is about to be served.  You can say hello to the slayer and meet her chaperone.” 

Doyle looked a little green around the gills at the mention of food, but managed to pull himself to his feet nonetheless.  Maybe he would just smell it, rather than eat it.  Right now, he didn’t think his stomach could handle anything but the small sips of brandy he’d been consuming for the past hour or so. 

Upon walking into the formal dining room, Spike was surprised to see only two places set at the rather long table.  Figuring cook didn’t realize he’d returned – although it seemed highly unlikely given the gossipy nature of the staff – he told Doyle to take a seat while he walked towards the door leading into the kitchen. 

Mrs. Wadsworth, the cook who’d followed him to the city, gasped slightly at having her domain suddenly invaded by Lord Thornton.   

“I see there are only two place settings on the table, Mrs. Wadsworth.  Did word not reach you that I’d returned?” 

“Oh, yes, m’lord.  That’s why there are two place settings.” 

“I’m not following…” 

“See, your ward and her chaperone left for the Duke of Rutherford’s for a small dinner party about two hours ago.  I knew you and your guest would be wanting to eat, so I cooked up something special just for you two.” 

Spike didn’t say anything, just turned around on his heels and left the spacious kitchen.  Out of range of the cook, he let his temper get the best of him, causing Doyle to react as his demon momentarily sprung forth. 

“What is it?  What’s wrong?” Doyle asked. He’d yet to see the master vampire truly angry, having taken off before seeing Spike’s reaction to his pronouncement that he’d be stuck in the past for a while, so he was somewhat scared.  For the life of him, Doyle couldn’t figure out what the vampire would be so furious about – and there was no doubt the vampire was mad, stalking to his chair with barely concealed rage, the muscles in his neck pronounced as he clenched his teeth together. 

“Nothing that won’t be dealt with once they return,” Spike ground out.

Chapter 17 

Elizabeth spent most of the early evening in the company of the Duke’s daughter, Celeste.  She was glad she’d come even if her heart wasn’t really into having fun.  After hearing the gossip of her guardian’s forthcoming wedding, she wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball on her bed and cry herself to sleep.  The earl’s absence the day before just made hearing the news even that much harder to bear.  She wished he was here so that he could tell her it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t planning on marrying some nameless chit of exceptional breeding and beauty. 

It wasn’t like he was going to marry her, the unwanted ward of modest nobility.  He’d not even wanted to be her guardian, was only persuaded by the Viscount when she’d found herself alone and away from her family. 

Her family. 

Maybe he’d found them, and now free from his burden, could busy himself with getting on with his life.  Who knew, after today, she’d probably no longer be staying at his home.  No longer need the vampire chaperone he’d provided. 

After the recent revelation that vampires walked among the ton like ordinary creatures, she didn’t think she’d be able to stay in London.  Maybe her parents would swoop in, reclaim their daughter whilst thanking the earl for his generosity, and then whisk her away, back to the countryside where she felt most comfortable. 

True, she’d made several friends her – all with lineage much more noble than hers – but she couldn’t face seeing them again and perchance running into her guardian and his soon-to-be wife at the functions they’d both, no doubt, receive invitations to. 

Better to go back to her safe world.  In the country.  Away from the fast-paced city that boasted of vampires in its midst. 

Elizabeth gasped in sudden dismay as the bite mark on her neck erupted with invisible tingles, then nearly staggered as a wave of rage washed over her small frame.  Unlike the unconscious calling the earl had sent before, this feeling – this overwhelming anger – seemed generated towards her.  She needed to find her chaperone and make her apologies; she needed to get home. 

Home. 

Why was it that that was the term that sprang to mind?  The earl’s townhouse wasn’t her home; it was just a temporary arrangement until her parents were located.  If she didn’t start remembering that then she was going to be distraught when she finally did go home. 

~*~ 

Mrs. Rothworth took one look at her charge as she approached and knew immediately that there was something wrong.  Making her excuses to her host, she called for their cloaks and settled the trembling girl in the carriage that made haste back to the earl’s townhouse. 

Thankfully, the roads were fairly deserted and the two pulled up not ten minutes after exiting the Duke’s residence. 

As they stepped down, Elizabeth clung to her chaperone, feeling decidedly weak-kneed at the feelings of rage running rampant throughout her body. 

“What’s happening to me?” she whimpered to the vampiress, barely able to support her own weight.  “I can feel him…he’s so angry.” 

“It’s my fault, child, and I’ll take the brunt of his anger from you.  After all, it was I that decided to accept the invitation, so I’ll be the one to bear the consequences.” 

The elder woman’s hand reached over to brush a soothing touch across her charge’s cheek. She’d let the status of being this claimed girl’s chaperone get to her and now she’d have to face whatever punishment the master vampire deemed fit.  And, if the trembling girl’s drawn features were any indication, angry didn’t even begin to describe the earl’s temperament. 

As the two stepped inside, the vampiress was proven right.  The earl was standing alone near the end of the entryway.  The place was deserted of servants – probably advised by the former to make themselves scarce.  The vacant room wasn’t the indication of his mood, however.  It was the vamped features and the coiled tension that permeated the other’s countenance that gave his true feelings away. 

Leaning down, Mrs. Rothworth shooed her charge off to her room with instructions to have her maid prepare her for bed.  She just prayed whatever rage the male vampire was exhibiting diminished before he sought out the girl. 

Amber eyes followed the slayer’s retreat until she’d reached the top of the staircase and disappeared from sight.  Then, they locked on her, and the vampiress suppressed the shiver of fear that had suddenly gripped her body.  The demon in her quaked in apprehension as the blonde-headed vampire pushed himself away from the wall with a lazy grace and slowly stalked towards her. 

As soon as he reached her, his arm shot out and gripped her neck, easily lifting her several feet in the air. 

“This must be the slayer’s chaperone,” a voice drolled from behind them. 

“Bloody hell, Doyle, not now,” Spike growled, eyes never leaving the frightened facial features of the vampiress held suspended from his grasp. 

“Slayer?” the woman gasped. 

“Figure of speech.  Bloke’s a Bracken demon and they think they’re bloody comedians. Havin’ a spot ‘o fun at my expense,” he replied, referring to the wedding he and the slayer were soon to be having.  He shook off his demonic features, blue eyes narrowing on the vampiress as he set her back on her feet and removed his hand from her neck while speaking over his shoulder to Doyle.  “Tell the lady here what a kidder you are.” 

Doyle, realizing his blunder, straightened away from the study’s doorjamb as the two vampires made their way towards him to afford the threesome more privacy as they spoke.  

“Lord Frances Doyle, Viscount Tellidyne,” he announced by way of introduction.  “And, he’s right… although, I am known the world over for my comedic value, I’ll have you know.  So, where is the chit?” the half-breed asked as he settled himself in a chair in front of Spike’s desk next to the vampiress while Spike walked around and sat behind his desk. 

“Upstairs…” Spike growled. 

“In bed, probably crying her eyes out…” Mrs. Rothworth replied honestly. 

The two vampires spoke at once. 

“This keeps getting better and better,” Doyle responded after a quick glance at the blond-headed vampire. “Whatever has happened to distress the girl so?”   

Spike saw the demon’s look and snorted.  

“Don’t look at me.  I haven’t seen her in two days. Remember?  And, you should know since you were with me.” 

The two males glanced at the vampiress – causing her to squirm uncomfortably in her seat – waiting for her to respond. 

“We had a small intimate gathering here, earlier today.  Just a few acquaintances from Lady Atherton’s tea party.  Unfortunately, the topic of discussion didn’t center around gowns and the Duke of Sevring’s forthcoming ball.  Instead, the tale that made its way around the room was the Earl’s forthcoming nuptials.”  

She paused at the master vampire’s “bloody hell” followed shortly by the other demon’s laughter. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“’S not funny,” Spike muttered as he glared at the half-breed, who didn’t look like he was going to wind down anytime soon.  With a look of disgust at the other man, he excused the vampiress to seek her dinner. 

Mrs. Rothworth made haste leaving the master vampire’s study, not wanting to call attention to her disobedience of earlier.  She thought she was in the clear until the vampire’s words halted her hand upon the doorknob. 

“Disobey me again like that, and your back will forever be bathed in red,” Spike promised softly, yet the calm way with which the words were spoken brought chills to her spine. 

She looked over her shoulder, nodding, before quickly departing the room. 

“Would you really?” Doyle asked him, sobering from his amusement. 

“Bloody well right I would!  Can’t have these younger vamps thinking they can be disobedient to a master vampire.  I’m cutting her a little slack because I don’t want to fuck up my chances of getting home.  But, if we were back in my time, she’d be dust right now for what she pulled.” 

Just thinking about the vampiress’ blatant disregard for his orders had Spike fuming again – so much so, that he almost got up and went after her.  But, the news that the slayer was aware of his impending marriage didn’t sit well with him.   

Mrs. Rothworth was right.  She was upstairs crying her eyes out.  Had been for the last hour they’d been talking.  A small part of him wanted to rush upstairs and comfort the girl, reassure her that it was she he planned to marry.   

Which was exactly why he didn’t move. 

He didn’t like the direction these feelings of his were taking.  She was a means to an end, and if he had to constantly remind himself of that fact, so be it. 

‘I’ll not cater to the slayer’s emotions like some poncey git my poof of a grandsire turned out to be.’    

Instead, he sat with Doyle in his study, playing poker and making plans.   

~*~*~*~*~ 

Upstairs, Elizabeth wept softly as the finality of the earl’s marriage hit her.   

She’d stayed awake, believing he’d come to her, reassuring her that the rumors were just that – rumors.  That he was going to keep her like he’d said.  But as the lateness of the night progressed with no sign of her vampire, the last thread of hope snapped, causing her to fall towards an uncertain future. 

Heart broken, she cried herself to sleep. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

In the study, Spike sat back, the tension releasing from his tightly coiled body, when he finally heard the slayer’s cries stop as she slipped into a deep slumber.  Unable to concentrate on the card game he was playing with Doyle with the girl’s ragged weeping, he’d steadily lost money until he’d just about stomped away from the table in frustration. 

Doyle, the bloody bastard, had just taken advantage of him  – even bluffing with a pair of twos when he himself sported a flush.  At that point, Spike was well and truly ready to eat the half-breed. 

“Finally go to sleep?” Doyle asked, sensing the vampire relax back into his seat. 

Spike growled a response, at which the other laughed heartily. 

“Face it, Spike.  You’re starting to care about the girl.” 

“’M not.  And, take that back right now!” 

“Ya know, now that I think about it, I think the Powers were right all along.  They’ve got you pegged.  Maybe you were meant to slip back in time, for reasons unknown.  Maybe that’s why you cornered the slayer when you did.  Did you ever think of that?” 

“No, and if you want to keep your head on your shoulders, you’ll drop it.” 

“Fine.  I’m just sayin…” 

“Well, don’t.” 

They stayed in the study playing cards until late into the night, neither wanting to brave the club – Spike, because of the apparent leak in his forthcoming marriage; Doyle, because without Spike with him, he really didn’t want to venture out alone.  When the half-breed began yawning into his cards in the early morning hours, Spike called a halt to their play and sent the other off to bed. 

Still locked within his private space, Spike walked around the room for a bit, trying to work off some nervous energy – warring with himself about whether or not to go upstairs.  He scanned the rows of books hoping for something to catch his eye and take his mind off the slumbering girl resting a floor above him.  Doyle’s words played over in his mind, and he refused to give credence to the half-breeds hypothesis by going upstairs. 

Because if he climbed the staircase, he wouldn’t be going to his room…he’d be going to hers. 

So he paced the confines of his self-enforced prison, back and forth like the kept lion that prowls the length of his cage – desperate not to give in to his need to see her.  His demonic countenance faded in and out as he debated the situation, until with a growl he vaulted over the chair that happened to be in his path on his way to the door. 

Spike practically ripped the door off the hinges in his haste to exit the room.  A burst of speed saw him to the base of the staircase and his eyes lifted upward as if he could see her from where he stood.  

“Face it, Spike.  You’re starting to care about the girl.” 

Doyle’s words taunted him. 

With a savage snarl, he whirled away from the stairs and stormed off into the night.

Chapter 18

He had no destination in mind as he flew out the front door and down the walk.  He only knew that he needed to put as much distance between himself and the slayer before he did something stupid – like apologize.  The city was quiet in the predawn hours, most people either currently ensconced at some party or such, or tucked away in their bed, sleeping the sleep of babes.  The town proper was nowhere he wanted to be.  He had frustrations to work off and the peaceful quiet currently surrounding him wasn’t helping his plans at taking his mind off his troubles. 

The slayer.  She was trouble in all caps.  Making him soften towards her, making him practically deny what he was, so much so, that he’d started to look forward to this marriage of theirs.  Was opening himself up to her feelings and wanting to see her happy. 

But, it was an illusion.  Right now, sure, she was all with the lovey dovey.  But as soon as her memories came back, he’d be dealing with one brassed-off slayer, one that would throw stakes first and ask questions later.  It was probably one of the reasons he’d tried to maintain his distance.  He didn’t want to open himself up to her rejection. 

And, what the hell… 

He was doing it again. 

He would not feel for this slayer.  Would not allow her soft hazel eyes and pliant form sway him from his purpose.  She was a means to an end, and he would do well to remember that.  He had to stop thinking with his “little head” and concentrate more on the matter at hand. 

Use her till he needed to lose her.  That was the way he needed to be. 

He was William the Bloody.  Slayer of slayers.  He’d bide his time until he was back home and then finish what he’d started in that abandoned warehouse before being sucked back into this mess. 

At least that’s what he told himself, and he hurried off into the night seeking a little action before the sun came up. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike wasn’t surprised when he found himself down near the docks.  If you’re looking for a little action, the seedy bars and strumpets eyeing their next potential customer, was definitely the place to be – it was the three “F’s” that would appease his demon. 

Fighting, fucking, and food. 

A sinister grin played over his lips as he took in the various commotions going on all around him.  A movement off to the right in the alley caught his attention and he moved in that direction.  He stepped into the alley, his vampiric features quickly sliding to the fore to better able him to watch the proceedings. 

Two fledglings – very young judging by their amateurish attempts at subduing their prey – struggled to feed on two barmaids while simultaneously trying to silence their screams.  The only thing the two had going for them was the fact that screams in this part of town were commonplace and rarely, if ever, fretted over. 

Disgusted with their lack of finesse, and reminded once more of his own frustrations he needed to rid himself of, Spike slipped out of the alley and ducked into one of the seedier bars.  The raucous sounds of a brawl had piqued his interest, and he swaggered inside, quickly ducking the drunken punch aimed his way. He crowed in delight, taking off his coat to avoid getting it torn before joining the fray. 

All around him the sights and sounds encouraged his demon. Chairs broken over bodies. Empty bottles shattering and used as weapons. The smell of human blood upon the air was like the finest wine, and he licked his lips in anticipation.  Not yet, but soon.  Right now, he needed to pummel with his fists to release the pent up energy that had gripped his being upon finding out that he’d been disobeyed.  Wanted to rail against the fates that were tightening the noose about his neck and forcing him to wed the slayer.  If he couldn’t fight with her, the least he could do is take out his aggression on some unsuspecting drunken sailors. 

He even pulled his punches to make the fight last longer than it should have.  The master vampire was in his element, even if his opponents were sadly under matched.  He didn’t care.  The demon was appeased. 

When his latest punch sent the last of the bar’s inhabitants to the floor in a drunken heap to move no more, Spike stood and straightened his clothes.  His shirt had come untucked and he hastily set himself to rights and ambled over the bodies littering the floor to get a pint of ale.  He was about to get his own cup when he sensed a movement, then watched as the bartender gained his feet and shakily asked him for his order. 

A mug was placed in front of him and the vampire quickly down the watered-down contents as he turned to survey his handiwork.  Blue eyes scanned over the masses trying to find the worst off of the lot as barmaids reappeared and attempted to put the room back in order.  They cast looks his way, impressed that he’d managed to come out on top seeing how he wasn’t the largest of men.  The bolder ones eyed his expensive clothes and cock-sure attitude and entertained thoughts of a tumble…or two. 

His head cocked to the side, his tongue automatically curling behind his teeth as he assessed the second – and possibly third – “F” on his agenda for tonight.  A lusty blonde caught his attention and he gave her a pointed stare and gestured with his head towards the stairs.  She put down her tray, whispered something to the girl beside her, and moved off towards her room above the bar.   

Spike walked over to his coat and snagged it off of the chair he’d placed it earlier.  His hand delved into an inner pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, enough to cover the ale and the damages made in the bar. 

The barkeep eyed the money, his wide-eyed expression filled with shock that the lord would deem to pay for the damages.  When the first punch had been thrown, he’d crouched behind the bar and lamented about how he’d pay for the latest round of damages done to his place. 

“For the damages,” Spike told him before moving off to follow the girl.   

“Er…thank you, m’lord!” he gushed, as he hoarded the money close in case any of his customers decided to waken from their drunken slumber. 

The vampire nodded and moved off.  It was time to pay the girl a visit… 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Halfway up the stairs he stopped.  He ignored the hazel eyes that seemed to haunt him, vigorously shaking his head as if to dispel the images.  One way or another he was going to break this hold the slayer seemed to exert over him.  Better to take his pleasures wherever and whenever he wanted – and if it happened not to be the petite brunette, so be it. 

He was evil, and it was time for him to remind himself of that. 

He started back up the stairs, using the aroused sent of the barmaid as a guide.  He’d lose himself between her legs then finish her off as a nice snack.  Prove to those powers wanting to manipulate him that he was evil to the core… lest they forget.  Show them how much he hated to be made to act the puppet. 

Faint sounds came to him as he paused before her door.  He could hear the chit’s accelerated heartbeat, could smell the arousal perfuming the air as she moved about the room.  The door had been left ajar and he pushed it all the way open so that he could see inside.  He must have scared her – he was a lot quieter than the drunken louts that normally sought her favors – if the startled gasp was any indication.  But, it quickly fled as she assessed his lean frame, her features taking on a more purposeful veneer.   

She crossed the room towards where he stood framed in the open doorway.  The exaggerated sway of her hips did nothing for him.  The hungry look in her eyes paled in comparison to another.  He found himself ignoring this willing creature as a petite figure superimposed itself over the barmaid.  Dry, mousy hair giving way to soft, glimmering locks that cascaded down her back.  Pale arms lifted and pulled the hair up and away from her neck, and all Spike could see was the marks upon her neck.  His marks. 

Shaking his head to dispel the vision, he glanced down at the woman before him.  She’d lifted her hair, jutting out her chest to display her bosom to his gaze.  But, she wasn’t what he wanted…wasn’t what his demon craved.  Disgusted with himself, he threw a few coins her way and stalked off.   

He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he didn’t want to settle for a substitute when he could have the real thing.  And, there was no reason for him to deny himself, other than spite.   

The bar was quickly left behind as he hailed a hack for the return trip home.   

~*~*~*~*~ 

He could feel the demon raging inside and the carriage had no sooner slowed to a halt before his townhouse that he was out the door, flicking a few coins at the driver, and racing up the steps.  The only thing his brain seemed to focus on was the marks permanently etched upon her neck. 

His marks.  His slayer.  His. His. His. 

The door opened as if by magic as he neared and he grunted at the “Good Evening, m’lord” intoned his way.  He took the stairs two and three at a time, the servant forgotten as chants of “mine, mine, mine” played cadence to his stride.  Now that he’d returned, now that he’d decided to have her, he was impatient to re-stake his claim.  

Feet moving at a brisk pace, he bypassed the half-breed’s room on the way to his master suite.  All lay quiet within but he wanted to divest himself of the various trappings of his station.  Wearing just his white, billowing shirt, that hung open from neck to hem exposing his pale skin for anyone to see, and his breeches; he slipped from his room, his bare feet making no sound on the carpeted floor as he rushed towards the slayer’s. 

He could make out her ragged breath as he neared, as if she’d been crying – which she had – for hours on end and had fallen into a fitful sleep.  The knob made no sound as he turned it and slipped inside.  His eyes immediately sought her out, a small huddled form lying in a ball in the center of the huge bed.  She was turned away from his gaze, but he knew her face was probably swollen from her crying. 

He didn’t care. 

He didn’t. 

He was just here to reassert his claim with cock and fangs, spend himself deep within her body, so that he could sleep for a few hours. 

He was. 

Spike stalked towards the bed, removing his shirt and pants and tossing them onto a chair.  He threw back the bedcovers – they would only get in the way and end up on the floor anyways – and climbed onto the bed.  She hadn’t moved from her tightly curled position, didn’t sense the danger that slowly stalked her.  

In a matter of moments, she lay bare to his gaze, her nightshift lifted over her body and discarded like so much garbage.  The slayer twitched fitfully in her sleep as the cool air of the room brushed over her naked limbs, and she tried to huddle even tighter into herself. 

He was having none of that. 

Grabbing her legs, he wrenched them apart and buried his face in her flavorful musk.  His tongue licked a path along her slit, delighting at the tangy nectar that flooded his mouth.  The semi-hard erection he’d sported since leaving the barmaid came to life as he buried his tongue between her folds.   

She tasted like a slice of heaven, and he eagerly lapped at her center.  He heard her moans, felt the restlessness of her body, and knew she was waking.   

The demon’s lust had overtaken his body.  He needed to have her.  Bury his cock deep inside her and feel her inner walls sheath his length in velvety fire.   

Spike pulled his head away from her mound and surged up her body and buried his shaft deep within her pussy.  Her eyes flew open, jolted awake at the near painful invasion.  Her body relaxed when she realized it was him.  Her vampire lover.  The tension in her face eased, even though he never stopped his relentless pace, driving into her as if he could exorcise the voices in his head that taunted him for his weakness, his softening nature.   

Her arms moved to hold him close, but he easily pinned them with one of his hands, denying her.  He didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to care.  Just wanted to use her body because it was his.  His.  His canines elongated, the ridges above his brow became pronounced, and his amber gaze watched the slayer beneath him.  

There was nothing gentle in this possession.  His intent was to mark.  When he heard his name float over him, he struck.  Buried his fangs in the mark he’d placed upon her neck, painfully so.  He heard her gasp in pain, but then nothing else.  She made no move to throw him off, readily submitted to his dominance… 

Because she was his.  Was telling him so with her body, in the only way she knew how.  By lying docilely in his arms.  Trusting him. Letting him do with her as he will. 

And, just like that, his demon was appeased. 

His movements stilled and he lay flush against her body.  The punishing grip on her wrists fell away to grip the back of her neck and hold her close.  He felt her hesitate about holding him again, but when her hands finally started kneading his bare back, he purred his delight into her throat.  He’d stopped sucking her blood the moment his movements had stilled, but he couldn’t bring himself to release her just yet.  And, if the sighs escaping from her lips were any indication, she didn’t seem to mind either.  Actually tried to wheedle her way closer so that his fangs would sink deeper.  The rumble in his throat got louder. 

She tasted so good, his slayer.  He could get drunk off the taste of her.   

The throbbing in his cock made its presence known.  He needed release, and soon.  His hips twitched involuntary and he began to move.  Slowly at first, until he felt her legs shift wider before they lifted and wrapped around his back.  He removed his fangs from her neck as his pace increased, blood dribbled down his chin to collect on her chest.  His tongue licked across her flesh, cleaning the trail, then flicked over one distended nipple before sucking it into his mouth.  Her back arched off the bed, causing his fangs to puncture her soft flesh.  

Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the new bite, it wasn’t deep, it was just the first time he’d bitten her there, and she found she liked it. A lot. 

Spike released her breast from his shallow bite so that he could flick and tease the other.  The dots of crimson welled up slightly and some of the holes oozed blood down onto her puckered nipple.  He was torn between wanting to return to it so that he could lick up the stray spots of blood, or let them bleed and attend to the other. 

His movements stilled as he contemplated, and Elizabeth thought she’d die if he didn’t start moving again.   

“Please, William,” she begged, her body writhing beneath his to increase the friction on her swollen clit.  “I need…” 

She clutched at him, her nails digging into his back.  Suddenly, he surged back into her, and her nails scored down his back, drawing his own blood. 

Spike’s demon loved it. 

The scent of their blood combined in the air and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he inhaled deeply.  His pace increased as he thrust into her, his pants mimicking her own.  He could feel her body tense as she neared her orgasm.  She keened her delight as he ravaged her body, her arms and legs tightened further, locking him in place above her. 

He watched the emotions play across her face. Knew the moment he hit her spot when she bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming.  But, Spike was determined to make her scream.  At least for him.  He angled his hips so that his cock hit it over and over again.  Felt the moment when the sensation became too much and she climaxed around him.   

Her inner walls tightened around his shaft, the clenching motion quickly bringing him off.  He buried his fangs back into the open holes on her neck, taking a deep draw of her blood as he flooded her womb with his seed. 

Exhausted from her earlier weeping and her guardian’s vigorous lovemaking, Elizabeth’s limbs fell limply at her sides.  Her eyes closed as she breathed deeply to calm her erratic heartbeat.  She felt him shift and move off of her, and if she weren’t so tired, she would have cried out in anguish that he was leaving her already.  Then she felt his arms draw her close and she nearly purred in contentment as she drifted back to sleep. 

The thought of him marrying another never invaded her dreams. 

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