Again she pulled away, but not so harshly. His fingers were surprisingly strong; it was an effort to break his grip. And then she opened her hand so that he could see the amulet shining in her palm. "I am quite glad you asked. I believe this is yours?"

Taking it, he needed only a glance and then turned his eyes back to her, still standing close enough that she could smell cloves, see the sprinkling of golden-brown hair beyond the cuff of his shirt. "Do you know what this is?"

She shook her head, and his expression eased a bit.

"Ah. So why do you attribute it to me, if you do not know what it is?"

"I found one at the Silver Chalice, and then one here tonight. You are the only common factor in both places."

"Thus and so you came to the conclusion that this was mine. In that case, perhaps I'll choose not to be offended. You found one at the Silver Chalice you say? When? Where?"

She explained, and included the fact that she'd met and beheaded a demon.

"A demon? With a vampire?" He turned away, moving from her side and breaking the intimacy his proximity had given. "Nedas has taken no chances."

"Are you going to tell me what it is, or are you going to mumble to yourself about things I don't understand—and thus can't help with?"

"Ever the impatient one, aren't you?" A quick smile brought the dimple into relief; then it disappeared as his expression sobered. "This amulet belongs to a member of the Tutela. Do you know anything about the Tutela?"

"No."

"The Tutela is a secret society, an ancient one. Hundreds of years old, as I've heard it told. Started in Rome, probably in the catacombs right next to the Christians, if you can believe the irony."

Standing across the balcony from her, he shrugged off his coat, letting the dark material crumple into the shadows at his feet. Now his white shirt, buttoned but not cravated, caught the moonlight and fairly glowed in the darkness that was his backdrop. "Oh, do not fear, I am not preparing to ravage you. This jacket is rather stifling, and it's not as if you haven't seen my shirtsleeves in the past."

Instead of the grin she expected, he merely gave her a look that sent her stomach to tingling. When she made no response, he continued, "The Tutela protect vampires." He unfastened the wrists of his shirt with great nonchalance. "They have done so for centuries."

"Protect them? How? Like offering an establishment where the vampires can come and drink with mortals?" Victoria replied archly.

Although his broad shoulders and darker, muscled arms glowed in the moonlight as he rolled up his sleeves, his face was in shadow again. How did he manage to do that—show off his physique while hiding his expression?

Or perhaps it was merely that Victoria could not help but notice the way his shirt clung to his waist and molded the very same shoulders she had had occasion to hold on to. And perhaps she didn't really want to know what was going on inside his head.

"Now there you go, bordering on insult again, my dear. Surely your aunt has taught you better than that. No, their purpose leans more toward providing mortals for vampires to feed upon. Bringing innocent people to the undead for their pleasure and nourishment. And gadding about during the day and protecting the interests and secrecy of the vampires while they stay safe in the darkness. Doing the evil work that the undead cannot, or will not, do in an effort to stabilize and increase their power. Members of the Tutela are the whores of the undead."

"But why? Why would anyone do that?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Such an innocent you are still, even with all that you have experienced and seen. I do not know if I would wish for that to change or not." He braced his hands back on the rail. "There are some people who yearn for immortality. Who find pleasure in being fed upon by an undead. Who believe that if they protect the vampires, they in turn will be protected from the evils in this world."

The flash of a memory stunned her. Bodies, bloody and ravaged, mutilated from the neck to the legs… the blank eyes, the gashes below the jaws, the tears in the chests, the rank, dull smell of blood. The sight she'd faced after the only time she'd been too late to stop a vampire raid last summer, shortly after she and Phillip had been married. It still had the power to send oily nausea into the back of her throat.

When she relived that image, she could not understand—could not fathom—how any man or woman could protect such creatures, let alone fraternize or mingle with them. "I cannot comprehend it," she finally said, when the memory eased and the silence had stretched long enough.

"Victoria, I kept the Silver Chalice as a vehicle to allow the undead to congregate so that any important information might be gleaned from them whilst in their social moods. As I said to you before, I prefer to have them where I can see them, and spy on them, rather than have no idea what they plan. I am not, and never was, a member of the Tutela. Regardless of any of my other actions, I hope that you believe at least that of me."

She couldn't see his face, blast it! How could she know what to think? "Move into the light, where I can see you."

"My pleasure." He stepped away from the balcony, but did not stop at one or two, or even three paces. He stopped when he had her upper arms in his hands, his boots touching her slippers. "Victoria." The French of his voice hung on the syllables, and her breath stilled.

He bent toward her and she closed her eyes, waited. It had been over a year since a man's hands had been on her. A year since she'd been touched with any affection or sensuality. She'd given no thought to how much of a dearth it made in her life. But now she knew.

A tiny huff of breath escaped her lips before he brushed his mouth over hers, back, and then again. Fitted to her lips just perfectly, just enough that her fingers wanted to close over his arms.

And then he pulled away, released her, and opened his eyes. For the first time that night she read the message there, and it made her want to step away… or drag him back for more.

He was back to his cool, charming self. "Don't believe for one moment that I didn't want more, Victoria," he said lightly, as though to deny the fact. "But there are more pressing matters to discuss."

"Pressing matters?"

As if shaking off a slumber, he turned and paced back along the balcony, rolling up a sleeve that had fallen back to his wrist. "Since you found the amulet at the Chalice, that means someone involved with the Tutela was there… likely the demon or vampire you killed, or perhaps both. There are no other vampires in London, are there?"

"When I left this morning, it was after two weeks of patrolling every night. I found the demon and vampire at the ruins of the Chalice, and I saw one other vampire, who got away… and no others. Lilith has not returned." She looked up at him in question. "I don't know where you've been for the last year, Sebastian, but you may not be aware that Lilith took her followers and returned to her hideaway in the mountains after she did not succeed in getting the Book of Antwartha."

"I am aware of that, although I have not been in England. I made my way to the Continent quite rapidly after my visit from the vampires at the pub." He looked out over the gardens below, then turned back to Victoria. "They're looking for Polidori. And someone is here. Someone from the Tutela. Someone must have dropped that amulet. But there aren't any vampires here."

"No, there aren't. Nor demons either, I don't believe."

"You can sense demons as well, then. Good. Polidori will be relieved to hear that."

"Are you going to tell me why they are after him? Or shall I guess?"

His charming smile was back. "I'm certain it won't be difficult for you to figure out."

"It must be his book. The Vampyre. It reveals too much about the truth of vampires. And you are traveling with him for what reason? Surely not to protect him."

"Now, Victoria… do not besmirch my capabilities; particularly since you aren't acquainted with the vast array of my talents." What little seriousness was left on his face shifted away, and his eyes locked on hers. "Though it is not for lack of desire on my part that you remain uneducated. At any rate, yes, I met him in Italy. Byron dismissed him from his service, not because he didn't need a physician any longer, but because he was afraid for his life." He sighed. "I will let John tell you the story; he has all of the details. Suffice to say, I do not expect this to be a quiet and safe house party. Someone is here from the Tutela. Whoever it is, they will be after Polidori, and I should not be far from him until we determine who it is."

"Why doesn't the doctor just leave?"

"That is what he has been doing for the last year—trying to stay ahead of them. Somehow, they must have found out I was involved; hence, they were looking for me at the Silver Chalice." He pushed away from the railing. "At least no one knows that there is a Venator in our midst," he said, his lips twitching crookedly. "Polidori will be relieved to hear that; and with you in attendance, he won't be in any hurry to leave. He's safer here with you than anywhere else."

"That is true. Can you arrange for me to speak with him tomorrow?"

"Of course. If you join us on our hunt in the morning, we should be able to take a few moments to speak alone where no one can hear."

"Very well, then."

He started to go, moving toward her, and she suddenly felt exceedingly aware of… him, herself, the quiet and intimacy of the night. Victoria could have shifted out of his path, or opened the doors and slipped into the room before him… but she didn't. His approach sent her gaze up into his face as he neared, and her belly pitched unsteadily.

"If you continue to look at me like that, Victoria, I'll be most happy to give you what you want." The edge in his voice was unfamiliar and brusque. "After all, you are no longer an innocent."

She stood her ground and reached up to touch his cheek with light fingertips. She'd never voluntarily touched a man before… except Phillip. She wanted Sebastian's arms around her, not just a brush of mouth over mouth. She wanted to feel and to forget. She wanted to be more than a Venator, more than a widow, more than a sedate marchioness sipping tea whilst discussing the weather and who was fornicating with whom.