He sat up, letting the light sheet fall away from his body, and stared out in the darkness. She was a lot like him. Except she was also a vampire, which meant she wouldn’t hesitate to lie to a human, to him, if she felt it was in his best interest. Wouldn’t even flicker a guilty eyelash over it. The supercilious, blond, blue-eyed delicious pain in the arse.

She was going after Ruskin alone. He’d bet his life on it.

Thank God there was phone service. He got the shipping company in Adelaide on the wire in the morning and verified his lady had indeed chartered a Dakota back to her place. He was thinking himself a bit paranoid when the clerk added, “And we’ve still got her down for another trip out to the Top End.”

Dev froze, his fingers squeezing down on the heavy receiver. “When?”

“Oh, right, sorry. Actually I should have said we did have her down for that trip. Plane should have picked her up for that last night.”

Dev swore, and hung up. “I need a car,” he told the dispatcher. “Where can I get hold of a fast one?” It was full daylight when Dev got to Lord Alistair’s home. Dev asked to see Thomas. When the monk appeared, Dev wasted no time on greetings, explaining the situation in terse sentences.

“She’s gone after Lord Charles Ruskin on her own,” he concluded. “I know she has. She’ll have some strategy in her head, but she’s . . . I think we need to be there.”

Thomas rubbed a hand over his face. “I sympathize, Dev, but if you think Lord Alistair will involve himself in another Region Master’s territory fight, you haven’t learned enough about vampire politics.”

“What about Lady Lyssa?” he persisted.

Thomas gave him a look. “Dev,” he said gently, “we can’t interfere—”

“Oh, bollocks,” Dev snapped. “I saw how it is between the two of them. Will Lady Lyssa sit by while Danny is torn apart by Ruskin and his pack of vampire puppies? Call it vampire politics and let it go? Because that’s what will happen.”

“I think you underestimate her.”

Dev turned to find Lady Lyssa standing in the shadows of the darkened dining room. She wore a velvet dressing gown that clung to her curves, her dark hair waving around her face like a sorceress’s tresses. Jesus, apparently vampires didn’t even wake up looking bad, except when they’d been burned half to a crisp. It was an interesting thought to contemplate, if he’d been willing to spend several centuries with Danny.

“No,” he said. “I don’t. I know she can fight like a tiger, and she’s more than a fair hand with a blade. But I think Ruskin will cheat.

And she doesn’t cheat.” The irony of Lord Charles’s purported adherence to the code of the English gentleman, and Danny’s actual observance of it, was not lost on him. Or Lyssa, he would guess, from the spark in her eyes.

“I’m not asking any of you to interfere,” he said carefully, fighting his own impatience. He suspected if he told the high-ranking vampires to get a move on and rattle their dags, it wouldn’t go over very well. “I do understand that much. But if you’re there, you can guarantee it’s a fair fight. If she loses”—he swallowed—“then she loses. But if she loses, you’ll ensure he makes it quick.” Lyssa raised a brow. “You think she would go, knowing she’d be killed?”

“She’s no coward,” he asserted.

“No, not in the least,” the vampire queen returned. “But there are two things to ensure that will not be the outcome if she loses.

One, she is worth far more pleasure and satisfaction to Lord Charles alive, not dead. If she makes this aborted attempt on his life and fails, he will force her to offer her blood and submit to his will, in a variety of ways.” Dev’s eyes grew hard, sea glass in truth. “That’s not going to happen. She’d let him take her head first.”

“No, she won’t,” Lyssa responded. “Reason two. Danny would not have risked this if she thought it would truly end in her death.

Because of you.”

“Because of . . .” He cut it short, remembering. Oh, Christ. “So she’s given herself no out. She’s either got to win or she becomes his plaything as long as he wants to treat her that way.”

“Yes. A fate far worse than death to a beautiful, independent spirit like Danny. She is young, but she’s not as inexperienced or gullible as might be thought.” Her gaze fastened on Dev. “I think she gauged your character true. You will come with us?”

“You couldn’t keep me away,” he said grimly. He shifted his glance to see Alistair now standing behind Lyssa.

“Lyssa, I can’t join in this. I won’t leave Nina alone, and she can’t make a trip like that.”

“Yes, I can, my lord.”

Dev was surprised to see Nina step out of the shadows behind Alistair. The heretofore quiet and deceptively meek servant had a look in her dark eyes that was pure determination, reminding him of what Danny had said.

Nina is very capable . . .

“Lady Danny needs our help, and I won’t be the cause of her falling to the likes of Lord Charles Ruskin. I am strong. The baby is strong. We will all go together. And Thomas will watch after me.” At his expression, her own softened, and she reached out a hand. “My lord, please. You are being overprotective, and I am grateful, but I think we should do this. Not that I would ever presume to overstep my place,” she added.

“Of course not,” he said dryly. “I am keeping a tally of how many beatings you deserve, once you are no longer carrying this child of mine.”

She gave him a smile, dipped her head. “I am ever yours to do with as you will, my lord.” Alistair turned his gaze back to Dev. “As Queensland Region Master, I will not interfere with the fight itself. Only if Ruskin does something to weigh the odds unfairly in his favor. We will not allow you to do so, either. Those are the conditions of my participation.”

Lyssa glanced at Dev. “I must abide by it as well, but for more reasons than form. She has chosen this course, and will want to do it herself. It is a matter of honor and pride. You have accustomed yourself to much that is unusual about female vampires, compared to human women. You must accept her right to defend herself.”

“I met her in a hotel bar, where no human woman I know would be,” Dev said wryly. “I think she pretty much set that standard from the beginning.”

As Alistair began to make arrangements for their transportation, Dev did something he hadn’t, in a long, long while. Stepping outside, he cast a defiant look at the sky.

Get me there in time, so she’ll know I’ll stand with her. So she’ll know she can accept death instead of defeat, if she has to do so. I won’t live, knowing she’s under the thumb of that murderous bastard.

Let me be there in time, so she doesn’t have to face it alone, no matter what happens.

Danny studied the tarmac at the Darwin Aerodrome. The town was struggling to survive, like so many in the Western gold territory, its heyday come and gone. However, she’d lived long enough to see such things turn around and wouldn’t be surprised to see it become a thriving city again in the decades in the future, particularly with its beautiful curve of beach and proximity to the Asian coast.

The pilot had engaged her in some brief conversation. Since it was unusual for someone to pay the exorbitant amount it would cost for a nonstop flight, most of these small plane runs necessarily performing mail stops or pickups of stockmen between stations, he was naturally curious. However, Danny made it clear she had a great deal on her mind. So in time, he just enjoyed the unusual pleasure of flying over the bush on a moonlit night, leaving her with her own thoughts.

She’d sent a telegram ahead to Lord Charles through the radio exchange, telling him she had business to discuss with him and her approximate arrival time, and received an acknowledgment that he would be in attendance at his Darwin estate. Upon reaching the ground, she found that he’d sent a car for her, which told her he’d used his informants to keep him apprised of her movements, since the plane’s arrival time couldn’t be easily predicted. There were about three more hours of night left, and Darwin was of course silent and still. The driver was a silent sort himself, who simply got out at her approach, took her one bag, tipped his hat and held the door for her to get into the second seat.

Lord Charles had a stunning place built out on one of the cliffs overlooking the sea. Unlike the bungalow and Victorian architecture of the other homes, after the WWII air raids, he’d built it in the likeness of an English manor, underscoring again how closely he felt tied to the country he considered home.

While she suspected he might have enjoyed the slight of not meeting her at the door, he was too much of a British gentleman to abandon that courtesy, and so Lord Charles was in the drive when she pulled up. She noted there were four men with him, and off to the right she saw the large cluster of outbuildings, which she was sure held his various twisted entertainments, such as his “pack.” He wore riding breeches, a well-cut broadcloth coat and linen shirt beneath, along with polished boots and spurs. His ice gray eyes revealed little as his man moved forward to open her door. Not himself, underscoring his status as ruler of this domain. While it was undeniable that all male vampires reflected masculine beauty, she remembered the ugly snarl twisting his face as he forced her to the floor and tried to intimidate her with a turgid cock. She could be nothing but revolted by the sight of his face.

With that in mind, she coolly ignored the hand he extended as she approached. Not just in calculation. If he kissed her knuckles, even a brush of lips, she was fairly sure she’d vomit. “Thank you for responding to my telegram, Lord Charles.” He dropped his hand. “Did you come merely to insult my hospitality, Lady Daniela?”

“No. I have other matters, in addition to that.” She raised a brow, pursed her lips and glanced at his men. “You insulted me deeply, at my home. You attacked my person, made free with it in a manner that I cannot overlook.” He rolled his eyes. “So what, do you again go whinging to the Council? Give them more pathetically weak reasons to remove me?