The loud voices on the other side of the door stopped abruptly, and Maia fancied it was because of her appearance on the threshold of whatever chamber they’d entered.

Some loud and violent noise sounded as if someone stood, shoving away a table or knocking over a chair, and then there was the sharp symphonic clink and clank of, perhaps, glasses or bottles on a table that might have been bumped or moved, and an abbreviated scuffle.

Dewhurst didn’t release her arm, and she felt his fingers tighten as if in readiness. “Don’t be a fool,” he said sharply. She knew he wasn’t speaking to her. “Did you think I would be so foolish as to come unprepared?”

Impatient, she yanked off the hood and found herself standing at the entrance to a small, windowless room that boasted less than half a dozen occupants. Before she could identify any of them other than—oh dear—Chas, an aggrieved sound drew her attention.

“You.” Corvindale, of course. He was half-seated at a table with one hand flat on wood shiny with some spilled liquid, and a few glasses. One was on its side. He was staring at her with a mixture of shock, fury and disgust. Chas stood just to his right, and Maia thought she recognized the other gentleman, but it wasn’t Mr. Cale. The female vampire Narcise was nowhere in sight; the remaining occupants were men who appeared to be footmen or other servants and they seemed to melt into the shadows as if to remain unnoticed.

Dewhurst tugged Maia closer, her hem brushing his trousers, and she saw that he’d shifted the flaps of his coat. A large ruby winked in the center of his neckcloth. He smiled coolly at Corvindale, who looked as if he were about to fly across the room, but had been halted in midtrajectory.

“Of course I wouldn’t come unprotected, knowing just how you feel about me,” Dewhurst was saying. He nodded at Chas, who, Maia noticed, was holding a stake in his hand, and then Mr. Cale. “Keep your distance, and no one will get hurt.”

“Maia,” Chas said, his voice sharp and steely. “Are you all right?”

“Other than worried to illness for the safety of my sister, while the rest of you sit about and visit at your club? Yes, I am fine.” She made no effort to hide the bite in her voice. “If it weren’t for Lord Dewhurst, I would still be standing at the door, arguing with the butler. It was he who helped me gain entrance.”

“How convenient,” Corvindale said. He sank back into his chair, but his gaze flashed, burning at the man standing next to Maia, and all at once she lost her breath.

Impossible.

She stared at the earl, her heart pounding hard and her head light. Impossible, but…it rather made sense. His eyes had burned. Red.

How could she have been so blind?

It was no wonder he wanted all of the curtains drawn, even in his study. Why his sister hardly knew him, and even in moments of great urgency called him by his formal name. And why he had been chosen by their brother to take care of them in his absence.

Who better to protect his sisters from a vengeful vampir than another vampir?

“I cannot believe your incompetence, Dimitri. I sent you the warning,” Dewhurst was saying as Maia came back to reality. His voice was cold with fury; no longer smooth and rich as it had been before. “And you, Woodmore. Another disappearing and then reappearing act? Are you here to take care of your sisters or not?”

No. She didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it.

They were the wards of a vampir? My word, were they everywhere?

And…her brother worked for him? A vampir hunter was the associate of a vampir? Her head began to hurt.

“Oh, aye, I got your message—along with two bloody pairs of ruby earbobs, you sneaky bastard.” Corvindale had stood again, and a vein at the side of his temple throbbed so hard she could see it from across the room. He would have lunged if Chas hadn’t thrust an arm out in front of him.

Dewhurst shifted a bit, then thrust his chin belligerently and this time Maia saw a flash of—dear God, fangs? “It was a jest, nothing more. I warned her not to wear them in your presence.”

“Damn your soul to Lucifer, it’s your bloody fault she’s been taken,” Chas said. “You and your cursed jests and games, Voss.” The stake shifted and the next thing Maia knew, the tension in the chamber snapped, and the place was in an uproar.

Something strong and powerful whipped her off her feet, gathering her up and spinning her away as Chas flew toward Dewhurst. The two men tumbled to the floor as Maia fought in vain to pull away from the strong hands that held her.

“Release me, you idiot man,” she said, jamming her elbow into the vicinity of Corvindale’s belly. She must have missed, for whatever she hit was solid and hard and made her gasp with pain. And he didn’t release her, merely holding her firmly away from the fray and muttering vile things under his breath.

Her brother and Dewhurst were on the floor, and then back on their feet, squaring off, facing each other, half crouched and wild-eyed. Chairs flew, crashing onto tables and sending glass flying. Dewhurst’s eyes blazed with fire, and Maia could, for the first time, clearly see the jut of his fangs. He seemed to favor his right shoulder, unable to lift his right arm as high as his left, wincing with pain when Chas flung him into the wall, cradling that arm. Dewhurst stumbled and tripped over Corvindale’s outthrust foot, somersaulting into the wall.

The stake rose and Chas followed and Maia stifled a gasp as it whipped down toward Dewhurst’s torso, hiding her face even as she cried, “Don’t! Chas!”

There was a loud noise, a scuffle and then…silence. Followed by the sound of a muttered curse. Maia realized suddenly that her face was buried in a broad, cotton-covered chest, warm and solid and very, very wide. It smelled fresh and sharp and like some pungent herb. A sudden vision of that very same chest, dark and bare and muscular, half covered beneath his bedclothes, rose in her mind.

At just about the same moment as the blast of embarrassed heat rushed over her face, Corvindale said, “I do hope you aren’t wiping your nose on my shirt, Miss Woodmore.”

The realization that, while she was still clutching him, he was no longer holding her added to her mortification and Maia spun away. She opened her eyes, fully expecting to see the bloodied corpse of a staked vampire on the floor.

Did vampires bleed?

But Dewhurst stood, brushing easily at his own shirt and Chas faced him, menace in his eyes, stake in his hand. Not a drop of blood in sight, and both men panting as if they’d been running.

“Armor?” Chas said, looking chagrined. He shoved the stake into some interior pocket or sling.

“After a fashion,” Dewhurst replied. “I warned you I’d come prepared—for all of you. Now, if you would cease attacking me, I would appreciate the opportunity to assist you in retrieving Angelica.”

“Your assistance is neither wanted nor needed,” Chas told him. “Aside of that, I want you in no vicinity to any of my sisters. A different country would be preferable. Just because you were prepared this time doesn’t always mean that you’ll escape my stake.”

Dewhurst gave a short, biting laugh. “I didn’t believe you were that foolish, Woodmore. In fact, I’m the only one who can assist you in saving Angelica.”

Corvindale snorted and walked over to stand next to Chas. He picked up one of the glasses. “Not bloody likely.” The earl sipped.

Dewhurst made a sound of great exasperation. “Very well, then.” He shrugged and glanced at Maia. “Best of luck to all of you.” He turned toward the door.

“Wait!” Furious, Maia stomped her foot. “Are you just going to allow him to leave?” she demanded, glaring at Chas. “Without hearing what he has to say? Angelica’s in danger and all you care about is…is whatever insults you’ve given to each other in the past. I vow, the three of you are like little boys fighting over a ball.”

“I don’t need his help,” Chas said, puffing up his chest and giving her a dark, older-brother look. She ignored it and opened her mouth to speak.

“Perhaps the lady is right.” The calm voice came from the corner and Maia whirled to see…Mr. Cale. He appeared so comfortable in their presence that she could only assume that he, too, was a vampire. Although he’d remained out of the fray, now he was the recipient of a frigid glance from her brother. “At least hear what the bastard—pardon me, Miss Woodmore—has to say. Then turn him out.”

“It’s because of me that you even knew they were to attack this evening,” Dewhurst said, looking at Corvindale meaningfully. He glanced at Maia and once again, she thought she recognized real concern or even anguish in his eyes as he spoke to her. “I was fortunate enough to cross paths with the vampire Belial, who is the one sent by Cezar Moldavi to find either your brother…or someone else that could be used as hostage. One of the serving girls at the Gray Stag complied with my…request,” he added, flashing his burning eyes, “and got him talking and bragging about his plans for tonight. I assumed a warning to you would be sufficient, Corvindale, but apparently not.” He cast a brief, pointed glance at the earl and then gestured lazily at Maia. “When I arrived here to find her arguing with the butler, rather than leaving her on the doorstep where she might have been otherwise noticed, I thought it best to bring her within.”

“They had ample opportunity to abduct her as well as Mirabella this evening,” Corvindale said from between clenched teeth. “They chose not to. It was Angelica they were after.”

Dewhurst nodded. “Because they’d already identified her. I’m certain, for by now, Moldavi has heard of her unusual ability. Angelica wasn’t very secretive about it, at least among her friends. Not only does Moldavi want to use her to bring her brother into submission, but also to put her to work. He can force her to tell him what she knows about the person who owns any item he brings to her.”

“You’re wasting time,” Chas said. “We’ve just about finished our plan to search the city and now you’ve set us back.”