“I believe Will is watching your house. Your brother and sister will be safe.” Esme grinned. “The water’s piped in. And sinfully hot. I keep some scented soaps as well, though Blade disdains to use them.”

The idea of this woman’s tall, curvaceous body in Blade’s bathtub stopped Honoria in her tracks. “You’re his thrall,” she said.

Esme’s eyes widened. “He didn’t explain?”

“I know he has them, but…you’re certainly not Mrs. Faggety.”

“You weren’t expecting me to be here.” Esme’s tone softened. “I’m his housekeeper, dear. I look after them all, and yes, I…I provide blood for him.”

There’s only two as share me bed…

Honoria had the horrible, burning suspicion that the beautiful Esme was one of them.

Esme started the bath running, the hot water splashing into the copper tub. The floor was a checkerboard of black and white, and luxurious, fluffy white towels hung over a gold rack. In the corner was a music box with a large, curled horn.

“He doesn’t strike me as someone who enjoys music.”

Esme was sitting on the lip of the tub, swirling her fingers through the bubbles. “Or baths. Or cats. Or his family.” Her smile deepened. “Keep your eyes and heart open, Honoria, and he may just surprise you. He doesn’t very often allow a stranger in here. Especially one he’s known for so short a time.”

Honoria frowned. “He’s spoken of me?”

“No. But the house is astir. Will’s been in everybody’s ear. Says Blade’s got a lady-love.”

“I’ll bet that’s not all he’s been saying.”

Esme laughed. “The boy’s protective. Blade saved him from a horrible life when no one else gave a damn. And verwulfen tend to be very overzealous of their families—their packs.”

“Will doesn’t like me.”

“If he didn’t like you, then you wouldn’t be here,” Esme said. Her smile slowly died. “We’re all protective of Blade. In our own ways.”

The woman gave her a long, slow look. Honoria turned away, then gasped. There was a mirror in the corner. Staring back at her was a dirty ragamuffin with tangled hair, coal-streaked cheeks, and a dress that hung off her like a potato sack.

It had been a long time since she’d seen herself in a mirror. It wasn’t an expense either she or Lena needed, and she’d been so busy at the academy that she’d rarely bothered to glance in the mirror that Mr. Macy made the girls practice their posture in front of.

She looked…awful.

“I’ll fetch you a comb while you’re soaking.” Esme reached over and turned off the faucet. “There you are. If you’ll disrobe, I’ll see if I can find something clean for you to wear.”

Though she’d been brought up in Caine House with various servants to see to her every whim, it had been a long time since she’d undressed in front of another woman. Especially one who shared a master with her.

At least the room was warm. And when she stepped into the steaming water, she nearly collapsed in relief. “Oh. My. Goodness.” Sinking up to her throat, she couldn’t prevent a sigh.

“This is one of Blade’s finest ideas,” Esme said. “A bathtub big enough for two.”

Honoria splashed herself, trying not to think about where the other person would fit. Trying not to think, indeed, what that other person would be wearing, or just how much the bubbles wouldn’t cover.

“How long have you been his thrall?” she asked, to distract herself.

Esme looked surprised as she swept up Honoria’s dirty clothes. She blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Eight years. My Tom died in sixty-seven, and I lasted nearly a year before I was forced to accept Blade’s thrall contract.”

“He’s kind to you?” It wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, but it would do.

Esme thought for a moment, then put the clothes aside. “He’s very careful with us. And he makes an effort to make it as painless and comfortable as possible.”

“He doesn’t insist upon flesh rights?”

Silence greeted her. Honoria looked up.

A flush of color swept over Esme’s cheeks. “Not unless we want it too.” She pressed a hand to her cheek. “I shouldn’t say such a thing, but I suppose you have a right to ask. And I remember how frightened I was when I first agreed to it, knowing nothing of what it would be like.”

“What is it like?” Honoria asked.

“Wonderful,” Esme said. “It hurts, I won’t lie. But it also feels…very good.” She gave a helpless shrug. “Words cannot describe it, Honoria. But you shouldn’t be afraid. He would never hurt any of us.”

“Even when his eyes go dark?” she asked dubiously.

“Go dark? I don’t know what you mean.”

“When his hunger overtakes him,” she said.

Esme slowly picked up the clothing again. “I’m afraid I’ve never seen his eyes go dark. He’s always so very much in control. I’m fairly certain none of the others have seen him in such a state either.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Perhaps…perhaps Will’s right. Perhaps you aren’t very good for him.”

***

Blade poured himself a tipple of blud-wein, listening to the brisk footsteps coming toward him. Esme. And in a mind to give him a lecture. He could tell from the distinctive swish of her skirts.

She peered into the room, in her hand a silk nightgown that had been spoils of war. Blade’s crew did a brisk trade in the rookery, fencing stolen goods. Some of them he kept, like most of the furniture that filled the warren. Some of it—like the nightgown—was stored in the cellar for redistribution.

He eyed it warily. “You ain’t givin’ ’er that to wear, are you?” Honoria would have conniptions if she caught even a glimpse of that filmy scrap of lace. And he wouldn’t be able to sleep for days without thinking about her in it.

“It’s the only thing I could find that would fit her.”

“She ain’t stayin’.”

Esme looked surprised. Then nodded sagely. “Not for lack of trying, I assume?”

He growled under his breath and swallowed a mouthful of blud-wein. “It ain’t none o’ your business.”

“Of course it is. We’re all concerned after the drivel Will’s been filling our ears with over the last few days. I was almost expecting a lady of the Echelon crooking her finger at you.”

“I don’t dance to no one’s tune.” Bloody Will. The whole lot of them didn’t have enough to do if they were earwigging over his private affairs.

Esme put the nightgown aside. He could hear the sudden nervous pounding of her heartbeat. Hell. Here came the lecture.

“She wanted to know what you were like as a master,” Esme said. “And what I did when your eyes went dark. What did she mean by that?”

He drained the blud-wein. “It ain’t nothin’.”

“Blade.” She caught his arm. “Is she a danger to you?”

“I lost control for a moment. It won’t ’appen again.”

Esme’s eyes widened. “I see.”

Blade cursed under his breath and put the glass down. He knew she would be straight in Will’s ear with this. He sank down into his chair and scraped a hand over his face. “It ain’t bad.”

“Have you checked your blood levels?”

“Of course I ’ave,” he snapped. He did a virus count daily, just to make sure he wasn’t getting closer to the Fade. “First thing I did when I got ’ere. They’re still ’oldin’ out at seventy-eight percent. It ain’t like I’m goin’ to start tearin’ the walls down anytime soon.”

“They’ve been high for months.” Esme knelt in front of him, resting her hand on his knee. “I’ve heard of these new colloidal silver injections—”

“Ain’t worth a pinch o’ frog shite. If they were, every bleedin’ blue blood’d be on ’em.” He shook her off and took a few steps away. “I’ll let you know if they hit eighty. Then you can tell Will to keep an eye out.”

“Blade—”

“’Adn’t you better find that dress? She’ll be all shriveled up like a prune.”

Esme slowly gathered her feet underneath her. “Well, we can’t have that, now, can we? All that soft na**d skin, shriveled up. It’d be a shame.”

And that was for him. Esme always had had a bit of bite to her. His c**k jumped at the thought, and he glowered at her. “That’s plain mean.”

“Stop looking like a drawn dog,” she said, “and make yourself useful. She’s afraid of you, especially after tonight. You need to be gentle with her, show her that you aren’t the monster she’s afraid you might be.”

“Ain’t my fault,” he snarled. “I ain’t the first blue blood she’s known.”

Esme gathered up the nightgown. “A word of advice, then. She’s young and she’s wary, but she’s still a woman. Court her. Be charming. I know you have it in you when you want to be.”

“I’m tryin’,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve been bloody careful as kittens with ’er. It don’t get me anywhere. She’s still holdin’ me at arm’s reach.”

“Answer me truthfully. Do you want her in bed, or do you want her to stay?”

“What’s the difference?”

“All you need to do is lie to her and charm her if you want her in your bed. But if you want something more, then I would suggest other tactics. I would help you if you were sincere.”

He knew she just wanted him to admit the depth of his interest in Honoria so that she could spread it over the house’s gossipmongers. And yet it was apparent that Honoria had barely thawed toward him at all. The look on her face as he kissed her tonight had said it all. She would give him his kiss because she owed it to him. But only because of that.

“She don’t want me,” he said.

“Do you want her?”

He shot her another glower and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Aye.”

A beatific smile spread over her face. “Then go and fetch my comb. You can play lady’s maid.”

***

Honoria shrugged into the silk Oriental robe that Esme had located from somewhere. It was far too large and the crimson-colored skirts dragged the floor, but it felt terribly nice on her skin. It had been a long time since she’d worn silk.

Don’t get used to it. She sighed and wiggled her toes into the fur-lined slippers. Again they were too large, but if she crooked her toes she could walk in them.

The girl staring back at her in the mirror was a different creature from the one who’d been there before. Her brown hair tumbled over her shoulders, almost to her waist. She needed to cut it badly, for the ends were ragged, but she’d not given it any thought in months. There was no need.

A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” she called, turning in a swirl of Esme’s rose-scented soap. Hopefully Esme had found her some undergarments, for she felt a little na**d with nothing but the robe and nightgown to cover her skin.

It wasn’t Esme. Blade stood in the doorway holding, of all things, a comb. He opened his mouth to speak and then seemed to see her for the first time.

“Bloody ’ell.” It sounded like the reverent whisper of a man of worship.

Honoria froze and clutched at the neckline of the robe. “I wasn’t expecting…you.” She looked past him, but the room was empty.

“Aye.” He hovered in the doorway, dressed in a clean white shirt that billowed at the sleeves and a tight leather vest that buttoned down his left breast. A red scarf was tucked into his neckline, and he’d washed the coal dust off his face. Dust, she was suddenly certain, that had come from her.

“Esme sent me,” he said, holding up the comb. If she wasn’t suddenly nervous herself, she’d almost have thought he looked anxious, standing there in the doorway. “She’s tryin’ to find you somethin’ to wear.”

“Then you’re not here to claim your kiss?” The words were out of her mouth before she could think.

Blade scowled and stepped inside the bathroom. “You don’t ’ave to kiss me if you don’t want it. I weren’t meself. I won’t ’old you to it.” He dragged a low chair in front of the mirror, then looked around. “Sit.”

Honoria sat stiffly. What did he mean he wouldn’t hold her to it? Just how long had Esme been gone from the room anyway?

“I made a promise,” she said.

The mirror gleamed in the candlelight. Blade stepped behind her, his blond hair tousled. He picked up a piece of her hair and started combing it, carefully untangling the knots. Though he barely touched her, she shivered, her ni**les tightening against the silk robe.

“I don’t want you to kiss me because you owe me,” he replied, concentrating on a knot. “I want you to kiss me because you want to.”

Their eyes met in the mirror.

Honoria flushed. The backs of his fingers brushed against her shoulder as he scraped up another handful of hair. She didn’t know how to answer him. And strangely enough, a part of her felt a little disappointed. Lazing in the bath, she had been prepared to kiss him, going over and over in her head how she would approach it. Just a light brush of her mouth, a hint of her lips, and then she could back away, owing him nothing once more.