Heartless

Lady Maccon, never one for shilly-shallying even when her life wasn’t in danger, got straight to the point. “You can stop with all your uncouth attempts at execution. I have decided to give this child up for adoption.”

“Oh? And why should that make any difference to us, Lady Maccon?”

“The lucky father is to be Lord Akeldama.”

The vampire lost his sulky expression for one of genuine shock. He most certainly hadn’t expected such a bizarre revelation. The surprise sat upon his face as precariously as a mouse on a bowl of boiled pudding.

“Lord Akeldama?”

Lady Maccon nodded, sharply, once.

The vampire raised one hand and fluttered it slightly from side to side in a highly illustrative gesture. “Lord Akeldama?”

Lady Maccon nodded again.

He seemed to recollect some of his much-vaunted vampire gravitas. “You would allow your progeny to be raised by a vampire?”

Alexia’s hand, still clutching her gun, didn’t waver one iota. Vampires were tricky, changeable creatures. No sense in relaxing her guard, for all Lord Ambrose seemed to have relaxed his. He still held the garrote in his other hand.

“The potentate, no less.” Alexia reminded him of Lord Akeldama’s relatively recent change in political status.

She watched his face closely. She was giving him an out and knew that he must want an out. Countess Nadasdy, Queen of the Westminster Hive, would want one. All the vampires had to be uncomfortable with this situation. It was probably why they kept bungling the assassination attempts; their little hearts simply weren’t in it. Oh, not the killing—with vampires, that was but one step up from ordering a new pair of shoes. No, they would want to get out of having to kill an Alpha werewolf’s mate. Lady Maccon’s death at vampire hands, whether provable or not, would bring a whole mess of trouble down upon the hives. Trouble of the large, hairy, and angry variety. It was not that the bloodsuckers thought they would lose a war with werewolves; it was simply that they knew it would be bloody. Vampires hated to lose blood—it was troublesome to replace and always left a stain.

Lady Maccon pressed the point, figuring that Lord Ambrose had had enough time to cogitate her revelation. “Surely you can do nothing but approve so tidy a solution to our current predicament?”

The vampire pursed his full lips over his fangs. It was the very elegance of Alexia’s proposal that had him seriously considering it. They both knew that. “You would not contemplate allowing Countess Nadasdy to be the infant’s godmother, would you?”

Alexia placed a hand on her belly, taken aback. “Well,” she hedged, trying for the most courteous response, “you know I should be delighted, but my husband, you must understand. He is already a little flustered by Lord Akeldama’s parental undertaking. To add your hive into the mix might be more than he could stomach.”

“Ah, yes, the sensitivities of werewolves must be taken into account. I always forget that. I can hardly countenance his approval of the scheme in the first place. He is amenable to this arrangement?”

“Unreservedly.”

Lord Ambrose gave her a look of disbelief.

“Ah, well,” Lady Maccon made light of the situation. “My dearest spouse has some reservations as to Lord Akeldama’s ideas on schooling and, uh, proper dress, but he has approved the adoption.”

“Remarkable powers of persuasion you possess, Lady Maccon.”

Alexia was rather flattered he should think it all her idea, so she did not bother to correct him on the matter.

“You will make it fully legal, put the adoption in writing, file it with the Bureau?”

“Indeed. I understand Queen Victoria is agreeable. Woolsey is intending to lease the house adjacent to Lord Akeldama’s to keep an eye on the child. You must allow me some level of motherly concern.”

“Oh, yes, yes, entirely understandable. In writing, you said, Lady Maccon?”

“In writing, Lord Ambrose.”

The vampire put his garrote away in a waistcoat pocket. “Given such a proposed arrangement, Lady Maccon, you will excuse me for the time being? I should return to Westminster at once. It is taxing to be so far away as it is, and my queen will want this new information as quickly as supernaturally possible.”

“Ah, yes. I thought the hive’s range extended only to parts of London proper.”

“Praetoriani has some advantages.”

With a gleam of pure mischief in her brown eyes, Lady Maccon remembered her manners. “You are certain you won’t stay? Take a drop of port? My husband keeps a small stash in the carriage amenities compartment for emergencies.”

“No, thank you kindly. Perhaps at some future date?”

“Not the whole killing thing, I hope? I should like to put that well behind us.”

Lord Ambrose actually smiled. “No, Lady Maccon, the port. After all, you are taking a house in town. You will be in our territory now, won’t you?”

Alexia blanched. Westminster Hive did hold sway over the most fashionable parts of London. “Why, yes, I suppose I will.”

Lord Ambrose’s smile became less friendly. “I will bid you good evening, then, Lady Maccon.”

With that, he let himself out of the carriage, tossed her parasol in, and vanished into the night. Mere moments later, Lord Maccon, looking none the worse for his porcupine-herding activities, let himself back inside and unceremoniously swept Alexia into his arms. He was naked, of course, and Alexia had no time to reprimand him for not changing out of his clothing before he shifted form. Yet another jacket ruined.

“Where were we?” he rumbled into her ear before nibbling on it. He slid his arms about her, as far as they would reach, which admittedly wasn’t far these days, and rubbed up and down her back.

Lady Maccon’s increasing girth had rendered most bed sport impossible, but this did not stop them from what Conall affectionately referred to as playing. Despite Alexia’s protestations that she was in perfect health, modern medical science banned connubial relations during the final months, and the earl refused to risk his wife’s well-being. He had, Alexia discovered much to her distress, unanticipated powers of resistance.

She slid her gun out from between them and pushed it away along the bench. Time enough to tell her husband about Lord Ambrose later. If she told him now, he’d get all flustered and distracted. At the moment, she preferred to be the cause of both his flustering and his distraction.

“No lasting harm, my love?” She slid her hands along his sides, enjoying the silkiness of his skin just there and the way he writhed under her touch.

“Never.” He kissed her mouth in a heated embrace.

Alexia wondered that even after so many months of marriage she still could get utterly lost in kissing her husband. It never became unexciting. It was like a rich milky tea—comforting, revitalizing, and delicious. Though she wasn’t certain how he would take such an analogy, Alexia Maccon was very fond of tea.

She touched his chin with both hands, encouraging him to kiss deeper.

Moving house, thought Lady Maccon, must be the world’s most incommodious undertaking.

She, of course, was not being allowed to physically help, although she did toddle about pointing at objects and indicating where they should go. She was enjoying herself immensely. Her husband and coconspirators having sallied off about their own business several days ago, she felt much like a chubby general in sole possession of a field of glittery battle, directing a mass invasion of foreign soil. Although, after having to mediate a head-to-head between Boots and Biffy over the efficaciousness of velvet decorative pillows, she suspected generals had it easier. Conall and Professor Lyall had arranged for her dominion over the relocation operation in order to distract her, but as she was well aware of the manipulation and, as they were well aware that she was well aware, she might as well have fun.

What made it particularly pleasant was that it had to be covert. They didn’t want it known that Lord and Lady Maccon were actually taking up residence inside Lord Akeldama’s house. The vampires had only reluctantly agreed to the Maccons moving in next door, frightened that a