As Shadows Fade

“You are going to the barrister, instead of him calling here? Why that’s simply not done, Victoria! Not by a marchioness, indeed not. And where are your gloves? I daresay-”

“Mother,” Victoria said, enunciating clearly, “I must not be late for my appointment. Was there something you wished to speak with me on?”

“Why… why… and did you say going to Rome? To handle business? But, Victoria, that’s why you have a barrister to manage all of the inheritance from your aunt. There’s no need for you to dirty your hands with that. Speaking of which, where are your gloves? And”-her voice became more strident as her daughter opened her mouth to respond-“aside of that, the apparent Marquess of Rockley has arrived in London this day… which was why I hurried over to notify you.”

“Thank you for that pertinent information, Mother,” Victoria said drily. She glanced longingly toward the door.

At that moment, it opened and Max stepped in.

Lady Melly looked at him. Up at him. And she took a step back. A slight one, but a step nevertheless. Her attention darted to Victoria, as if to measure her response to the imposing man who’d just entered her home uninvited.

Melly had met Max only briefly over the years that he assisted Aunt Eustacia, and Victoria wasn’t certain whether she even remembered or recognized him.

“Your carriage is waiting, my lady,” Max said in the driest of voices. There was no mistaking him for a footman. Victoria saw a glint of humor in his eyes, and she lifted her chin in an effort not to smile.

“I’m sorry, Mother, but I simply must go. Do give the marquess my best wishes.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I shall likely be leaving for Rome tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Lady Melly shrieked.

Victoria winced.

Max grimaced, and Victoria slipped past him through the open door. Her mother’s words followed her like the screech of an owl, and Victoria dimly registered something about a welcome ball for the presumed marquess.

“You must give him my regrets, Mother,” she said over her shoulder, certain that Melly would at least seize upon the excuse to speak to the marquess if she didn’t have a daughter to thrust at him.

To Victoria’s surprise, Max followed her to the carriage. He spoke briefly to the groom, and then stepped inside. The door closed, and as the vehicle started off with a gentle lurch, Max settled in the seat… across from her.

Apparently, old habits died hard.

For a moment, the only noise was the rhythmic clopping of hooves on the cobbled street and the faint creak of the carriage springs. Victoria studied him, feeling as though at last she’d earned the privilege of watching him as long and as hard as she wished.

As he often did, Max gazed out the small window, giving her little more to look at than the profile of a strong, straight nose and solid chin, now clean-shaven. And his mouth.

Her own mouth dried just a little, as she remembered with perfect clarity all of the wonderful places those lips had been, and all of the breathtaking things they’d done. Victoria’s belly did that little flip that settled into a warm tingling through her limbs, and she swallowed.

“Rather a shame to hitch up the horses for a drive around the block,” she commented drily, breaking the silence at last. “But I knew that, short of leaving the house, I’d not escape from Mother.”

“I thought perhaps you might have another use for the carriage.”

Victoria looked sharply at him, but he still peered out the window. She couldn’t tell from his profile whether that glint of humor… or heat… was there in his eyes.

But heat definitely warmed her cheeks.

“Such as?” she asked.

He lounged back into a corner of the blue velvet squab, resting an arm along the top of it. At last he turned to look at her. A dangerous glint lingered in his dark eyes, but he merely replied, “A visit to Fleet Street? Don’t you need some fripperies or furbelows for your trip to Roma?”

“Why, Max, do you mean to say you wish to go shopping with me?” She batted her eyelashes coyly. “How unexpectedly accommodating of you.”

Max’s response was a snort that sounded suspiciously like “Like hell,” but those beautiful lips tightened as though trying to keep from smiling. “I had plenty of bloody shopping when I courted Sara.”

“Ah, yes, you would have done.” Now Victoria couldn’t hold back a smile. She no longer cared about Max’s false courtship with Sara Regalado, and could find humor in the thought of him dutifully following the fashion- conscious Italian girl from shop to shop. Max would do anything in the name of duty.

Anything.

Victoria sobered. “Max, you don’t have to take the vis bulla again. It doesn’t matter to me.”

His face stilled, matching hers in seriousness. “It does to me.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said, unable to hold the words back. Blast. She sounded like a weak woman! She, Illa Gardella. Was this what love did?

Max gave a humorless laugh. “The feeling is quite mutual, Victoria. But the fact is, something is much more likely to happen to me if I don’t take the vis.”

He was right, of course. Max wouldn’t stop fighting vampires without the power of the vis bulla, and so far his lack of Venatorial strength hadn’t kept him from being coveted by Lilith. Only three weeks earlier, Lilith had had Max in her possession and Victoria and the other Venators had helped him to escape.

“And to you,” he added. His dark eyes settled on her, and she felt a burst of warmth. And fear.

This emotion, this tingling, sparking connection that bound them frightened her-it was strong yet uncertain.

And the future was frightening, for she couldn’t imagine it without Max.

“Max,” she began, but he cut her off.

“What you fail to understand, Victoria,” he said, his voice low, cool, “is that I now have no choice. I will go through the Trial, and I will succeed.”

“Are you saying that I’ve forced you into it?”

“Of course not.” His mouth flattened.

“Why did you decide to stay last night?” she asked boldly.

“I was previously… Well, I had no desire to share you. With anyone.”

As she had suspected. “You thought that I would linger in Sebastian’s bed and then come to you?” Victoria wasn’t certain whether to be angry or insulted. So she kept her voice steady.

Max’s eyes turned flat and black. “You forget that I’ve observed you and your various beaus over the last two years. You never seemed to settle on one for long.”

She could have allowed the righteous fury to burst forth, skewering him with her words, but Victoria sensed something unspoken beneath his comments. Something he masked very well. So she chose bald honesty. “I never have. Until now.”

The belligerence in his eyes died. His mouth relaxed. But he didn’t speak.

“Max,” she began, unsure what was about to come from her mouth… and then her breath trailed off. Because he was looking at her again like he had last night… through hot eyes filled with intent and boldness.

“I begin to see the attraction of carriage rides,” he said, and reached forward to close his fingers around her wrist. “The rhythm, the privacy…”

She saw the flash of a decidedly wicked smile before she flowed across the divide, into his arms.

“Most definitely the privacy,” she murmured after a moment, pulling a bit away from the long, sleek kiss. “No Verbena to interrupt us. Poor girl,” she said, paused for a lovely little mash of lips, then continued. “She’s half terrified of you anyway… and you bellowed at her this morning.”

He smiled against Victoria’s mouth, his fingers already loosening the buttons at the back of her gown. Efficient in everything he did, of course.

Then suddenly, he stopped and gathered her close. One strong hand curved around the back of her head, fingers sliding into the loose knot there, palm cupping the base of her neck, and the other at the center of her back,