would have known her by sight and they would never leave Devonshire. And in truth, Simone and I look a great deal alike. I believe that was one of the reasons she hated me with such passion. Every time she looked at me she could see herself and she detested the knowledge that a mere bastard could resemble her so closely.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” he said dryly, unable to accept that Simone could ever have been as lovely as this woman. Such a black soul would surely have marred any beauty. “Still, it was a risk to boldly act the part of your sister.”
She gave a short, unsteady laugh. “I have discovered that people see what they wish to see.”
Gideon’s own lips twitched in reluctant amusement. He was quite familiar with the gullibility of humans. Not one had questioned his arrival in London, nor his claim of being connected to European royalty. As long as he looked and acted the part the Ton was satisfied.
“True enough.”
“But now ...”
Her eyes darkened as she regarded him with desperation. Gideon was abruptly recalled to the reason she had sought him out in the first place.
“Now Tristan has discovered the truth?”
She gave a slow nod of her head. “I do not know how, but he managed to discover a miniature that had been painted of Simone only a month before Lord Gilbert died. He also knows of Sally Jenkins.”
“He must have traveled to Devonshire,” he murmured, suddenly realizing why the murders had so abruptly halted.
She bit her lip with enough force to draw a drop of blood. It was a revealing gesture of just how distressed she was.
“If he begins spreading gossip that I am not Lady Gilbert the truth is bound to come out. I will be ruined. Perhaps even thrown in prison.”
Gideon reluctantly stepped from her trembling body. He needed to concentrate on Tristan’s latest gambit. An impossible task when he was close enough to feel the silken heat of Simone surrounding him.
He was far too conscious of the large bed directly behind him, and just how easy it would be to scoop her off her feet and onto the mattress. He did not want to think of the renegade vampire or the danger that surrounded Simone. All he desired was to have her in his arms so that he could reveal the untold depths of his need for her.
With an effort he thrust away the dark desires swirling through his body and turned his thoughts to the traitor who was even now waiting to destroy this woman.
“Nothing will happen to you,” he assured her in firm tones.
“But, unless I give him the necklace ...”
“No,” he interrupted sternly. Although he would do anything for this woman, sacrifice his very soul if necessary, he could not allow the Medallion to fall into Tristan’s hands. Not only would the vampires suffer from his demented lust for power, but every human would soon discover fear that they never dreamed possible. Besides, he knew that the moment she no longer possessed the Medallion to protect her, Tristan would do just as he promised. Simone would be dead before she could even attempt to flee. “You must trust me. Can you do that?”
There was a long, tension-filled silence before Simone at last gave a nod of her head.
“Yes.”
Relief, as sharp as a rapier, flared through him, and without considering his actions, Gideon moved forward to place a soft, lingering kiss upon her lips.
He had waited so long for the barriers to be lowered. And after he had revealed the truth he had very much feared that this moment would never come.
How could she ever trust a gentleman who claimed to be a mythic creature she did not even believe in? Or if she did believe, had been taught to fear?
But there was no mistaking the shimmering certainty in her eyes and Gideon felt the heavy despair that had plagued him for the past three days suddenly being lifted from his heart.
With the hope he could someday teach her to love him as he loved her he knew he could face anyone or anything.
Including Tristan.
Pulling back he ran a hand over the soft satin of her hair.
“Go down to the foyer. I will attire myself and collect the carriage.”
“We are going to the brewery?” she demanded.
“Yes. It is time that Tristan and I settle this once and for all.”
“I—” Her words broke off as she regarded him with obvious fear.
“What is it, Simone?” he demanded, before abruptly grimacing as he realized he had used her sister’s name. “I am sorry. That is simply how I think of you.”
Her lips twisted at the irony of becoming the woman she had once hated.
“It is how I think of myself now. It is as if Sally Jenkins never existed. Odd, is it not?”
“No.” He smiled deep into her troubled eyes. “You have become the woman you longed to be using that name.”
“But it is not mine.”