He could see her clearly through eyes that had watched his own life span wither and die. Isolde was superficial, selfish, convinced that the only way to prove her femininity was to spread her legs and also convinced that life revolved around fucking. She had aged well and was still an attractively sensual woman, but the idea of bedding her left Nick cold.

He possessed a strong urge to mate, of course. Fucking gave him pleasure and release, especially when coupled with the act of feeding his thirst for blood. Thérèse had seen to that.

Nick clamped down on his errant thoughts and focused instead on Isolde’s excited face. “You shall accompany us, Nicky. Ride with us as we return home. Give us your protection for the rest of our journey and set dear Bellemère’s mind at rest. Then you can stay at FitzAdams Towers before continuing your journey instead of in this dingy place.” She blinked wide blue eyes at him. “Do say yes…oh please do say yes?”

Nick knew he had no choice. To refuse would be to occasion comment and questions he did not wish to answer. Yet to agree would be to reenter a world he’d purposely left a long time ago.

Then the Dowager’s companion moved slightly and once again he received a quick glance from a pair of large warm brown eyes.

He turned to Isolde. “How can I possibly say no?”

* * * * *

Verity Chandler knew her hands were shaking as she took the empty brandy glass from the Dowager’s grasp. Why this man should affect her so, she had no idea. He was dangerous—of that she had no doubt whatsoever.