“What has occurred?” he demanded. “Is it Tristan?”
The old gypsy’s lips thinned at the mention of the renegade. “That is one vampire who could use a good strapping,” she said in short tones. “He could never be satisfied with what he possessed. Like a child, he always desired what he could not have.”
Gideon recalled the deadly mind snare that had been set to trap him.
“He is rather more dangerous than a child.”
Nefri gave a slow nod, her expression becoming somber. “Yes, I suppose he is, at that.”
“Has he left London?” Gideon demanded, knowing that Nefri would be keeping careful guard on all the traitors.
“For a time. However, he returned before dusk far more dangerous than when he left.”
Gideon stilled at the undoubted warning. More dangerous? He had already murdered helpless innocents, had Simone kidnapped and had set a trap for him that had been forbidden for centuries.
How could he possibly be more dangerous?
His features unconsciously tightened with determination. Whatever surprises Tristan had devised, he would not be allowed to harm Simone. Nor to get his greedy hands upon the Medallion. No matter what Gideon had to do to halt him.
“Then I will seek him out and destroy him,” he said in even tones.
Nefri regarded him steadily. “He will not allow you to find him until he is prepared. And you must recall that at the moment his powers are greater than your own.”
Gideon grimaced with impatience. “I cannot simply wait until he attempts to harm Si ... Lady Gilbert once again.”
A sudden smile touched the lips of the older woman at Gideon’s revealing slip of the tongue. A smile that was more than a bit worrisome.
“She is a dear child, is she not?” she demanded in sweetly innocent tones. “But so fragile with the burdens she carries. She needs a strong gentleman she can depend upon when she is forced to confront Tristan.”
Although he sensed he was being ruthlessly maneuvered, Gideon did not hesitate in his response.
“I will be at her side.”
Surprisingly, Nefri gave a slow shake of her head. “No, I fear you will not.”
Gideon stiffened in annoyance. Did the powerful vampire believe that he would fail Simone when she needed him the most? Or that he perhaps feared to face Tristan?
It was unconscionable.
“What do you mean?” he rasped sharply.
“She will not turn to you for assistance if she does not trust you.”
With a jerk Gideon was on his feet. Damnation. Nefri had managed to strike at him where he was most vulnerable. Simone did not yet trust him. Even when she had lain in his arms through the long night he had felt the barriers that she kept between them. There were still too many secrets, too many reasons to remain wary of one another.
“I have done all in my power to win her trust,” he said defensively.
Nefri gave a slow shake of her head. “You have not yet told her the truth of yourself.”
He shoved his fingers through the long hair that he had not yet tied back.
“If I tell her the truth she will be more terrified of me than ever. You know as well as I do how mortals react to the mere mention of vampires. Most do not believe we exist, and those who do consider us monsters.”
“Until there is truth between you there can be no trust,” she retorted with unshakable logic.
Gideon turned about as his stomach twisted in dread. As much as he disliked the wariness he could sense within Simone, it was far preferable to watching her flee from him in disgust.
She would never understand, he told himself as pain lanced through his heart. The myth of vampires being savage beasts who preyed upon hapless humans was too deeply ingrained. And the very fact that Tristan was ravaging his way through St. Giles would only add to her fear.
If he confessed, he would lose her forever.
He sucked in a sharp breath. He could not bear the loss.
“It is impossible,” he said in tortured tones.
“I thought you once said that very little is impossible, Gideon,” Nefri lightly teased.
Caught off guard by the realization that the woman had somehow heard the words he had spoken to Simone only last evening, Gideon spun about to confront her, only to discover the room was once again empty.
He released his breath with a loud hiss.
Since coming to London he had hoped that Nefri would seek him out. Not only because she was a legend among vampires, but because he had presumed she could help him to discover some means of luring Tristan back to the Veil without forcing him into a battle.
Now he wished that she had never appeared.
It was obvious she was warning him that he must confess the truth to Simone. And that without her trust he would somehow fail.
The mere thought made a shudder race through his body.
There was a discreet knock on the door before a footman stepped into the room.
“Sir, your carriage is waiting to take you to the boot maker.”
Gideon clenched his hands at his sides. Nefri had claimed that Tristan was once again in London. He could not put off the evil hour, no matter how much he might wish to. There was no telling when the desperate traitor might strike.
“There has been a change in my schedule,” he said briskly. “Inform the coachman that we will be calling upon Lady Gilbert this morning.”
“Very good, sir.” With a bow the footman turned to leave the room.
Once alone Gideon reached for a ribbon to tie back his hair.
Only weeks ago he would have scoffed at the mere thought of feeling uneasy at confronting a mortal. He was a vampire. A gentleman far above lesser humans. What did he care if a woman was frightened or horrified by his presence?
His arrogance, however, had been thoroughly punctured by a golden-haired temptress who had managed to capture his heart in a manner he had never before experienced.
He could not lose her, not now.
With a final tug upon his cuffs, Gideon forced himself to leave his chambers.
It was time that Simone discover that the gentleman she had shared a bed with last evening was a creature out of her worst nightmare.
With a practiced skill Simone lightly sketched the outline of a walking dress with a hint of military crispness in the tailored skirt and square neckline.
Putting aside the last of the material she had neatly folded and stacked on the table in the back drawing room, Daisy moved behind Simone and heaved a sigh of appreciation.
“Oh, my lady, ’tis perfect for the dark blue satin,” she said.
“Yes, with a touch of gold braiding upon the bodice and sleeves,” Simone replied absently, her pencil still moving over the sketchpad.