Be Still My Vampire Heart

CHAPTER 8

Angus materialized in a familiar place—the Parisian office of Jean-Luc Echarpe. Emma stumbled, and he steadied her. An alarm went off, one that Angus had installed himself, that she couldn't hear. Jean-Luc heard it, though, for he jumped from his desk with a dagger pointed at them.

"Merde." He lowered the dagger. "You should warn me when you're coming."

The door burst open and Robby MacKay dashed in, his claymore drawn. "Och, tis you."

He hit a button by the door to turn off the alarm.

"Bonsoir, mademoiselle." Jean-Luc's gaze shifted to Emma. He looked her over curiously.

Angus kept an arm wrapped around her and gave his old friend a warning glare.

Jean-Luc responded with a slow smile. "Bravo, mon ami."

"Jean-Luc, Robby, this is Emma Wallace," Angus announced, keeping her close to his side. "Emma, this is Jean-Luc Echarpe."

"The famous fashion designer?" Her eyes widened. "Then we are in Paris?"

"Aye." Angus motioned toward the kilted Scotsman. "This is Robby, who works for me and guards Jean-Luc. He's something like a grandson."

"We forget how many greats should be in front." Robby bowed. "A pleasure to meet you, miss." He gave Angus a questioning look.

No doubt, they were wondering why he was teleporting about with a mortal woman. He was usually all business. "I… thought I'd take Miss Wallace on a picnic. Could ye find us a basket of food, Robby?"

Robby's mouth dropped open. "You? On a picnic?"

Jean-Luc chuckled. "Ask Alberto. He'll know what to do."

"Verra well." Robby left the room with a stunned expression.

Angus winced inwardly. They acted like he'd never courted a woman before. Well, it had been a century or two. And it wasn't like he was courting Emma for romantic purposes. He merely wanted to gain her friendship and trust so they could work together against their common foe.

Then why did he still have his arm around her, claiming possession? He released her.

"Miss Wallace needs… something to wear."

"Indeed?" Jean-Luc's eyes twinkled with mirth. "I hadn't noticed."

Emma glared at Angus and whispered, "I knew this would be embarrassing."

"Come." Jean-Luc led the way from his office. "The storeroom is downstairs. I'm sure we can find something suitable for a… picnic." He glanced back at Angus with a grin. He was going to get teased about this for a hundred years, Angus realized. Showing up in the wee hours of the morning with a barefoot, half-naked mortal woman.

Jean-Luc showed them the official showroom where a handful of his latest creations were on display. Then he took them to a large room where rack after rack of clothes were stored.

"Oh my God," Emma whispered as she studied a price tag. "I can't afford this."

"Doona worry. I can."

Her eyes widened. "I can't accept a gift from you. It's against regulations."

Jean-Luc snorted. "Come, you two. That is no way to start a night of romance."

"This isn't a date," Emma insisted.

The Frenchman smiled. "How about this—I will loan you anything you want for the night, and Angus can return it later." He slanted Angus a teasing look. "As long as it is not torn."

Angus scoffed. "I'm no' going to tear her clothes."

"A pity," Jean-Luc muttered, then motioned to the racks. "Help yourself, mademoiselle."

"That's very kind of you." Emma wandered off.

Jean-Luc drew closer to Angus. "You old dog. I never knew you had such good taste."

Angus folded his arms across his chest. "This is business."

Jean-Luc snorted. "I wasn't born yesterday."

"I mean it. I'm gaining her confidence so she'll stop slaying."

Jean-Luc's mouth dropped open. "She's slaying vampires?"

Angus nodded. "Doona be fooled by her sweet face and beautiful body. She's a fierce and clever warrior."

Jean-Luc regarded Angus in silence.

Angus arched a brow. "What?"

Jean-Luc shrugged. "Nothing." He turned away, then muttered, "First Roman, and now you."

"There is nothing happening between us."

"Right." Jean-Luc patted him on the back. "I wish you two the best."

Angus snorted and walked away. Jean-Luc was making too much of this. He located Emma three racks down. She was studying some black dress pants.

Pants? Why did she always cover up her lovely legs? Something in a golden-amber color caught his attention and he grabbed it off the rack. "I like this. It reminds me of your eyes."

She gave it a dubious look. "It's a dress. A gorgeous dress, but I don't wear dresses."

"Sweetheart, this is no' a karate tournament ye're going to. 'Tis a picnic."

"A picnic in Paris, wearing designer clothes?" She shook her head. "It's all a bit hard to believe." She stepped closer. "Are those other guys vampires, too?"

"They're my friends, Emma. Are ye planning to kill them?"

"No, I'll behave." She swatted his arm. "Besides, where would I hide stakes in my underwear?"

He smiled. "I could pat ye down just to be safe."

"That doesn't sound very safe."

He chuckled and handed her the dress. "Will ye try it?"

Ten minutes later, she was looking grand in the golden dress with a pair of sparkly golden sandals.

Robby had their basket of food ready. He grinned, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Jean-Luc liked to live more dangerously. "Enjoy your date," he called after them as they headed for the front door.

Angus shot him a glare that promised retaliation in the near future. Jean-Luc merely laughed.

They emerged from Jean-Luc's studio onto the Champs-Elys. The street was lit up and noisy, even at four in the morning. The Arc de Triomphe gleamed in the distance.

Emma grinned. "This is great! Sure beats sitting on a plane for eight hours."

"Aye." Angus pointed at lights in the distance. "That looks like a good spot."

"The Eiffel Tower?"

"Aye." He wrapped an arm around her. "Hold on."

Blackness swirled around them for a few seconds, then melted away. They were standing on the top level of the Eiffel Tower, looking down at the City of Lights.

Emma peered over the railing. "This is cool." She hugged herself. "But a bit chilly."

"Here." Angus offered her his coat. While she put it on, he flipped open the tartan blanket Robby had placed on top of the basket.

Emma sat and rummaged through the basket. "Wow, real food." She removed bread, cheese, and grapes. A bottle of wine. "I hope there's something in here for you."

He found a bottle. "This is for me." He popped the cork. Foam bubbled out, so he held the bottle to the side.

"It looks like champagne." Emma handed him a glass.

"'Tis called Bubbly Blood, a mixture of champagne and synthetic blood." He filled the glass. "Would ye like some?"

"No way." She watched him curiously as he drank. "I've seen the commercials for Fusion Cuisine on DVN, but I thought it was a joke' cause I've seen vampires feeding off humans."

"Those are the Malcontents who refuse to drink from bottles. They enjoy torturing mortals." Angus opened her bottle of wine. "They're our sworn enemies. We've been fighting them for centuries."

"Then Shanna Whelan's claim is correct? There are two factions of vampires?"

"Aye." He filled her glass with wine. "Ye see, Emma, we share a common enemy, the Malcontents. And our goal is the same, too—protecting the innocent." He handed her the glass. "We should be… good friends."

She accepted the glass. "I'll have to think about it."

"I understand." He leaned back against the grill-work. "Ye were just trying to kill me an hour ago."

She nibbled on some cheese. "I'm struggling with this idea of good vampires. I suppose Jean-Luc and Robby are like you?"

"Aye. Robby is a descendant of mine. I found him dying on the field at Culloden."

Angus closed his eyes briefly. "I lost so many of my family that day."

"I can't imagine witnessing something so horrific." Emma shuddered.

"Ye witnessed yer parents' murder, did ye no'?"

She flinched. "I don't want to talk about it." She sipped some wine. "Tell me about yourself. When were you born?"

"In 1480."

"And you have descendants? So you… were married?"

"Aye. Three children." Angus quickly changed the subject. "I was mortally wounded at Flodden Field in 1513. Roman found me that night. I was barely alive. I thought I was dreaming when I heard this voice asking me if I was willing to continue the fight against evil. I thought it was an angel. I said yes." He smiled. "And not just because I wanted into heaven. I was pissed about dying so young. I really wanted to do more."

"Were you upset when you realized you were a vampire?"

He shrugged. "I was a bit surprised. I dinna know such creatures existed. But I never felt bad about it like Roman. I realized early on that death hadna changed me. I was still the same, only much better."

She threw a grape at him. "Vampire arrogance."

He smiled. "'Tis only the truth. We can do things a mortal could never do."

"You can't go out in the sun."

"But we can live for centuries."

She pulled off a hunk of bread. "Tell me about the past—places you went, people you met."

Angus launched into some of his favorite stories about meeting Mary, Queen of Scots, and hiding Bonnie Prince Charlie. Emma was full of questions, and he enjoyed seeing how comfortable she now was in his presence. She was able to laugh with him and tease him.

After an hour, he corked his half-empty bottle of Bubbly Blood and set it in the basket.

"I'm afraid dawn will come soon, and we need to go."

"All right." She gathered up the remnants of her meal and returned them to the basket.

"I… hate to admit it, but I really enjoyed this."

"You mean our date?"

She shot him an irritated look. "This is not a date."

He chuckled. "I'm satisfied as long as ye know I'm no' yer enemy. Ye can trust me."

He'd enjoyed it, too. More than any evening he could remember.

She stood and brushed bread crumbs off his coat.

He jumped up and folded the blanket.

"I made a mistake." She folded her arms, frowning. "I got carried away, listening to all your stories about the past."

He placed the blanket in the basket. "There was nothing wrong with that."

She shook her head. "I should have gathered more information about the Malcontents. I should have found out where you're holding Shanna Whelan."

"Holding her? She's a happily married woman."

"My boss thinks she's been brainwashed. His first priority is to rescue her."

Angus snorted. "She's perfectly happy where she is. Is it that hard to believe a mortal woman can love a vampire?"

Emma's eyes widened.

Angus swallowed hard. Deep inside, a need was growing. An impossible desire. He wanted what Roman had. The love of a mortal woman.

Emma picked up the basket. "How do we get down from here?"

"Ye let me hold you." He stepped closer. "And ye hold on to me."

She smiled nervously. "Or we could always take the stairs."

He wrapped his arms around her. "It will only take a moment."

She looked sad as she looped an arm around his neck.

Blackness enveloped them for a mere second, then they were standing on the ground in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Emma released him. "Thank you, Angus."

He stepped back. "Ye're welcome."

They strolled silently down the gravel path in the small park. Angus frowned. The atmosphere of friendship they'd shared during the picnic had melted away. The air between them seemed strained and sad. As if something was missing. As if friendship wasn't enough. He glanced at her, wondering if she felt it, too.

A noise came from behind some bushes. Angus halted. Emma stopped beside him with a questioning look. She'd probably not heard it yet. He raised a finger to his lips and eased forward. She stayed beside him.

More noises emanated from the bush. A grunting noise. A female gasp. A French Malcontent, possibly, attacking an innocent woman. Angus leaned over to retrieve a knife from under his sock. He motioned to Emma to stay behind him.

With an annoyed look, she shook her head.

Stubborn woman. But he admired her bravery. She set down the picnic basket and retrieved the wine bottle. Holding it upside down in her fist, she went to the left. He headed around the right side of the bushes.

He jumped out. "Release her and back away!"

Emma leaped into position.

Angus winced. They'd interrupted a couple making love. Emma was standing at their feet, rather his feet, since the woman's feet were wrapped around the man's bare rump.

Angus was by their heads, his dagger pointed at the man.

With a gasp, the man scrambled off the woman. He grabbed his discarded pants to cover up his crotch. He yelled something in French about avoleur, then yanked his wallet from his pants and tossed it at Angus's feet.

Angus ignored the wallet, for he'd noticed something awful. The woman had pantyhose wrapped around her reddened neck. "I should gullet you! Ye're strangling this puir woman."

The man motioned to the woman on the ground, who was busily covering herself up with the man's shirt. They both babbled in French so fast, Angus had trouble understanding.

But the evidence was clear. "Ye're strangling her!" Angus stepped toward the man, his knife aimed at the man's face.

"Good heavens," Emma whispered.

"Don't hurt us, please," the woman gasped in accented English as she unwound the hose from her neck.

"Hurt you?" Angus gave her a baffled look. "I'm trying to save yer life. This bastard was choking you."

"I asked him to!" The woman glared at Angus, then at Emma.

"We should go." Emma motioned for Angus to follow her.

"Nay! I canna leave a defenseless woman with a strangler."

The man and woman cursed profusely.

"Angus!" Emma grabbed his arm and pulled. "Come on."

"But—" He glanced back at the French couple, who were still hurling curses at them. "Is it safe to leave her?"

"Yes." Emma retrieved the basket and hurried down the gravel path, tugging him along with her. "He isn't going to kill her. At least, I hope he won't."

"But he was choking her."

"She asked him to." Emma let go of his arm and fiddled with the basket. "They do it for… an erotic thrill. The choking causes heightened responses during sex. She'll have a bigger orgasm, I suppose. Not that I would know, but that's what I've read about it."

He halted. "She asked him to hurt her?"

"Yes."

Angus was stunned. He stared at Emma in disbelief, then strode down the path.

Emma followed him. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head and quickened his stride.

"The woman will be all right. It really was consensual."

With a growl, Angus tossed his knife. It embedded with at hunk into a tree. "I doona understand." He marched toward the tree. "I have lived too long. I no longer understand this world."

"I know it's a bit weird, but people do strange things—"

"Nay!" He ripped the knife from the tree. "A man should never harm a woman. Not even if she begs him to. There is no honor in hurting a woman!"

"Well, I—"

"I canna believe it." He leaned over and stuffed his knife into the sheath around his calf.

"If a man loves a woman, how can he bear to harm her?" He jerked his jeans down over the sheath, then straightened. "How could he do that to her?"

Emma shrugged. "She asked him to."

"Why? What kind of man would pleasure his woman by hurting her?" Angus paced across the path. "'Tis a man's duty, nay, his privilege, to give his woman all the pleasure she can bear. She should be panting and writhing with pleasure."

Emma remained silent, staring at him. Did she not believe him?

He walked toward her. "A real man would take all night if need be to make sure his woman was fully sated. She should be screaming that she canna endure any more."

Emma's eyes widened.

"It should be a man's greatest pleasure to see his woman shuddering in the throes of passion."

She took a deep breath and shifted her weight from one foot to another.

He paced back and forth. "Only when she is begging for him, should a man see to his own needs. And he should never, ever harm her." He stopped in front of her. "Am I totally wrong in this?"

"No," she squeaked.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "Och, lass, ye shouldna look at me like that."

"I'm not looking." She turned away. Her cheeks flushed with pulsing blood. Her heart was racing, he could hear it.

"Emma."

"I think we'd better get back home." She looked at him, her eyes glimmering with desire.

He stepped closer. "Yer heart is pounding."

"Your eyes are turning red."

"Ye'll have to face the facts, Emma. This is a date." He touched her cheek.

The picnic basket she was holding tumbled to the ground. With a low growl, he pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.

He wrenched every ounce of pleasure from the kiss. He tasted Emma's lips, skimmed them with his tongue, and nibbled them till every curve and texture were embedded in his memory for all time. He held her tightly so he'd know exactly where her breasts pressed against him. He smoothed his hands down her back to learn the exact curve of her spine, the delicious way it sloped inward and then flared out again at her hips.

He nibbled down her neck. Her pulse throbbed just beneath her tender skin, filling his senses with the fragrance of blood and desire. Her breath puffed against his cheek in tiny, feminine gasps. Her sweet body melted against him. The scents, the sounds, and the sensations clouded his brain till he could no longer think, only feel joy, passion, and a hunger that demanded more and more.

With a groan, he returned to her mouth and demanded entrance. She opened without hesitation, and that moment of surrender sent a surge of heat to his groin. He'd been struggling with arousal since she'd first straddled his lap that evening. And now, with her soft and compliant in his arms, and her tongue touching his own, he began to ache with need.

He planted his hands over her sweetly rounded arse and ground her hard against his erection. She broke the kiss with a gasp. The look of alarm in her eyes should have warned him, but he was too hazy with lust to take heed.

"I want to make love to ye, Emma."