Darius looked out over the sea of people in the Vanderlines’ ballroom with dismay. “I though you said it would be a small affair, Bernadette.”

“A small affair?” Bernadette’s throaty laughter rose to the high, painted ceilings of the cavernous ballroom. “Silly man.” The Vanderlines’ youngest daughter is coming out tonight. Nothing but the best will do; that means all of London will be attending.”

“Is she pretty, this Vanderline daughter?” he asked with a wink.

Bernadette gave him a sharp glance. “Do not get any ideas, Darius. You are mine tonight—make no mistake about it.” She smiled coolly. “Do not think I have not noticed the other women in the room watching you. I have, and I do not care for it.”

He had received his share of flattering looks since stepping into Lord Vanderline’s mansion a half hour before. It had been so long since he had last been to a social gathering that he felt sorely out of touch. “I believe those women you speak of are actually looking at you, my dear. You are so beautiful that they are sizing you up as competition.”

The words seemed to appease her. She tapped her fan playfully against his chest. “Flatterer.”

Bernadette glanced over her shoulder at the small crowd that had gathered nearby, but not so close they could see beyond the strategically placed potted palm trees.

Three in all, they served as a wall of sorts, and now Bernadette made good use of that wall. She went on her toes and whispered in his ear. “Should we find an empty room?”

“I understand your husband is due to arrive shortly,” he said with a smile. “I do not think it wise for the both of us to go missing.”

She sighed heavily. “He could be hours. You know how he loves the card rooms. No doubt he is losing the rest of his fortune.”

“Even so, I do not think you should open yourself up to gossip.”

“No one blames me for taking lovers, especially since Harold loves no one but his cards.”

“I am sure he cares for you, Bernadette.”

“Yes, he tells me he cares for me but rarely shows it. Miserable man. I wish he would die already,” she whispered under her breath.

Darius intentionally stared at the impressive emerald nestled between her ample breasts. One of Harold’s many gifts to keep his beautiful wife happy.

How sad that people married for money and not for love. How fortunate he had been to choose his own bride. She had been the only woman he had ever loved, and he had not found her equal these five centuries since.

Perhaps that in itself was why he only took married women to his bed. They were eager to please and expected no commitment. Only mutual satisfaction. They were the safest lovers of all. Always appreciative, and not overly possessive, though he did have to end a few liaisons when the women became too demanding or attached.

“What are you thinking?” Bernadette asked, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “You were a million miles away just then.”

Someone coughed and she dropped his hand. Thankfully, it was only a footman and not another guest.

“I do wish your brother and his friend would not have chosen tonight to meet up with you.” Her ruby red lips turned down at the corners as she spotted someone across the room. “Harold has arrived. I hope to see you later?”

“Perhaps,” he said, walking away, making his way farther into the room.

He had not missed this. The senseless chatter, everyone sizing each other up. Smiling when inside they were trying to find something wrong in each and every person. He missed the days of old. Days when men had honor.

An intense ripple rushed down his spine.

He smiled. Demetri had arrived.

The two of them had always shared a sixth sense, even before they were given the dark gift. Now as vampires that bond had grown even stronger, an intuition all vampires shared.

Scanning the crowded room, Darius spotted his brother standing in the doorway, which led out to the veranda. Dressed in his usual attire of severe black, Demetri planted his hands on his narrow hips and looked out over the crowd.

His twin’s long hair was held back by a black ribbon that only served to draw more attention to his sharp cheekbones and light blue eyes. The only difference between the two of them was the scar above Demetri’s right eye from where he had fallen as a boy and cut his brow. The hair there had never grown back. Ironically, that slight mark had ended up being one way their parents could tell them apart.

To his brother’s immediate right stood Remont. As light as Demetri was dark, their maker wore buff-colored breeches, a gold coat made of fine silk, and a snowy white shirt with an elegantly tied cravat and large diamond stickpin. One would never guess Remont had been just nine and ten, a messenger in the Austrian court of King Leopold when his maker had taken one look at him and made him into a vampire.

He rarely spoke of that day, only to say he had loved his life before becoming a vampire.

Darius had little doubt that was the reason Remont had asked him over and over again if he had wanted his help at Bannockburn. Had Demetri not pushed him, he probably would not have gone through with turning Darius.

His brother and their maker stood talking to two older gentlemen. Remont abruptly turned and his haunting green gaze locked with Darius’s. The tall blond grinned.

Following Remont’s gaze, Demetri turned and his gaze landed on Darius. His lips curved into a wide smile.

Darius could not help but grin as he crossed the room, leaving Remont talking to the older men. He embraced his brother, holding him tight. “How good it is to see you. I have missed you these past months.”

“Come, greet me with the same enthusiasm with which you embraced your brother, Darius. I have missed you, my friend.”

Darius released his brother and embraced Remont, not at all surprised that the same rush of emotion raced through him yet again. “And I have missed you as well.”

“You still have not lost your Scottish brogue.”

“I never will,” Darius said, laughing under his breath. “The Highlands will always be my home.”

Demetri had little brogue left to his voice, no doubt from centuries of living abroad with Remont. His twin grabbed glasses from a servant’s tray “Thank you, my dear,” he said with a wink, his gaze lingering on her impressive cleavage.

The young woman’s gaze kept shifting back and forth between the two of them, and then settled on Remont. Her thoughts were risqué.

It was obvious Demetri had seen the vision as well, because he leaned forward and whispered in the woman’s ear, “Have you ever had three men at the same time, lass?”

A blush raced up her cheeks and her eyes widened. She shook her head so vigorously, she almost upset the tray. “No, not yet,” she said breathlessly.

Demetri’s gaze slid down her body and then up again, his lips pursed together. “Tonight might be the night you experience paradise.”

Her chest rose and fell heavily. “Oh, I do hope so,” she said with a wicked grin before she disappeared into the crowd.

Demetri laughed under his breath and turned to Darius with a sly smile. “I am enjoying myself already, but I can tell you are anxious to know why I summoned you here.”

Darius nodded. “Aye, you know me too well, brother.”

“Well, I missed you for one.”

“And secondly?”

“I asked you to meet me here tonight because I want you to meet a young woman who will be attending this evening.”

His brother had done his best to play matchmaker through the centuries. “Who is she?”

Demetri smiled softly. “Her name is Gabrielle Fairmont. She is young, and you shall love this—she is fresh out of the convent. I was fortunate enough to see her at the opera a few nights ago, and I think she is perfect for you.”

Darius laughed under his breath. “What gave you the impression I was in need of a lover?”

“I would not laugh so fast, brother. You wait and see. Anyway, as I was saying, this lovely young woman is set to marry Vincent Lemory, the sixth Viscount of Sutherland.”

“Sutherland?” Though Darius lived in the Scottish Highlands, he still read the London newspapers, even if the news was history by the time they reached his home. “Is he the lord who killed a wife or two?”

“Actually, it was four,” Demetri replied drolly. “Gabrielle is a rare beauty, and far too young to marry someone as old and depraved as Sutherland.”

“Then why does she?” Darius asked. “If she was living in a convent, then I am assuming she was either there because she wished it, or because she had no one else to care for her.”

“Indeed, and this is the case in this situation. Gabrielle’s mother died two years ago and no family stepped forward to take her in until recently, when the half-brother decided to visit his long-lost niece. His visit comes after a long night of gambling, in which he loses the title to the only real estate he has left, a rundown townhouse in dire need of repairs. So he visits the convent, and immediately upon leaving the meeting he goes straight to a friend’s house.”

“Let me guess, Lord Sutherland is his friend?”

Demetri nodded. “Yes, and conveniently he is old, widowed, and one of the wealthiest men in London. Plus, he does not expect or need a dowry. He agrees to the marriage without even seeing Gabrielle.”

The footman at the top of the stairs cleared his throat loudly. “Lord Sutherland and Miss Gabrielle Fairmont.”

Demetri’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, perfect timing. Turn around, brother, and see for yourself why I asked you to meet me here tonight.”

Intrigued, Darius turned and saw the old viscount at the top of the stairs. The man’s jowls mingled with his intricately tied cravat, and his thin lips curved into a greasy smile as he turned to the young woman at his side.

Darius’s breath caught in his throat. “Rose,” he whispered, unable to believe his eyes.

Demetri’s hand rested on Darius’s shoulder as he leaned in. “Amazing, is it not? I could scarcely believe it when I first set eyes on her. Such a striking resemblance to your Rose.”

Darius’s throat was too tight to reply. In fact, he could scarcely breathe.

Dressed in a lovely short-sleeved gown of light green taffeta that fit a bit too snugly over her full breasts and a bit loose on her slim waist, Gabrielle Fairmont was truly a vision to behold. Her pale hair had been adorned in a high coiffure with an assortment of tiny pale flowers and a string of small, cream-colored pearls. She was without question the most attractive woman in the room, and yet he sensed from her flushed cheeks and shy smile she had no idea how truly astoundingly beautiful she was.

“I wanted you to see her with your own eyes, brother. I knew telling you in a letter would not do her justice.”

“I cannot believe the resemblance,” Darius said, wondering if this woman could be his Rose reincarnated. After all, if vampires existed, then why could a person not be born again in the same, or this case, similar body? If that were the case, and this Gabrielle was his Rose, would she remember him?

Dear God let it be.

“I do not know if Gabrielle is your Rose, Darius, but I will do what I can to help you capture her heart if that is what you desire. I am completely at your disposal.”

“We are completely at your disposal,” Remont corrected.

Darius glanced at them and nodded. “Thank you, brother. Thank you, Remont.”

Demetri grinned wolfishly. “Does that mean you want her?”

“Aye, you know I want her, but let us start by meeting her,” Darius said, a million different emotions racing through him, most of all excitement and an exhilaration he thought never to feel again.

“Then you shall have her,” Demetri said with firm resolve.

How confident he sounded.

“But we have an obstacle.” Darius’s gaze fell on Lord Sutherland.

Remont laughed under his breath. “I think you could persuade her quite easily to leave the current arrangement she finds herself in. Indeed, read her thoughts and you will know the truth for yourself.”

Darius watched Gabrielle intently and though it took effort to calm his mind in his excited state, he finally settled enough to pick up on her anxiousness. She disliked being here in this large group of people who all stared at her like an animal in a cage. She yearned to be anywhere else. Rose had been the same way, preferring solitude to larger crowds. The man at her side disgusted Gabrielle, and she desperately yearned to escape him. Suddenly, an image hit him, hard and fast.

Darius could see the dark interior of a carriage and plush, velvet seats. He saw Gabrielle, but she wasn’t wearing the gown she now wore, even though her hair looked to be adorned the same way. Could it have been from earlier tonight? Anxiety and fear rushed through his body—at the same time the viscount touched her, his hand on her leg.

Darius’s hands tightened into fists at his sides as the vision changed, and now they were in a dark bedchamber. Gabrielle tried to get away from Sutherland and his pawing, but the man would not relent. The image broke away for an instant, and then he saw her again struggling beneath the viscount, who was choking the life from her.

Rage rushed through him. Had the vision happened already, or was he seeing the future?

Darius broke the thought. He did not need to see any more. And although he did not know Gabrielle Fairmont, he would move heaven and hell to get her away from the madman.

“She comes this way,” Demetri said, nudging Darius forward. “Get her attention, and I shall keep Sutherland occupied.”

Darius told himself not to become too hopeful, especially since the woman was already engaged to another. Yet the closer Gabrielle Fairmont came, the more he could not get over the resemblance to his Rose, which had him wondering if perhaps this was not his second chance at happiness.

* * *

The chatter of London’s elite, mixing with the music of the twenty-piece orchestra, made Gabrielle’s heart accelerate. Dear Lord, her corset was too tight. She could scarcely draw breath, and it did not help that every eye in the room was fixed upon her and Lord Sutherland. She heard them talking about her.

To make matters worse, the farther they drew out into the crowd, the tighter the viscount’s hold on her became. His fingernails bit into her skin, as though he knew she wanted to bolt.

Little did he know she would escape, especially since she had heard his conversation with his sister, whose home they had stopped by to borrow a gown that belonged to Sutherland’s grandniece after Gabrielle had soiled hers while saving the boy. “Be ready with the carriage tomorrow morning, sister,” he had said, his voice urgent. “We travel to Gretna Green at sunrise.”

Even Sutherland’s sister had seemed surprised by the news, stammering and stuttering that quick marriages in the small Scottish border town were the things of scandals, but after a firm tongue-lashing from the viscount, she had agreed.

“Straighten your shoulders,” Sutherland urged, pulling her out of her musings. “And for God’s sake, smile. This is not a bloody funeral. I want everyone to know how delighted you are to be my bride.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. The room was enormous and filled with close to five hundred bodies. At least it would make disappearing easier than had it been a small, intimate party. Unfortunately, saving the boy had drained her immensely, and she needed all the strength she could bolster to escape.

“Do you know how many women would love to trade places with you, my dear?” Sutherland murmured.

And I would trade places with any one of them right now if given the chance, you murderous pig.

Without replying, she scanned the room, noting four sets of double doors on the far side of the ballroom, two of which were wide open to allow cool air to circulate in the room. Foliage blocked some of the garden from view. Excitement rippled along her spine. All she had to do was slip out one of those doors unnoticed.

She would run and never look back.

The manor was surrounded by a stone retaining wall. There were also several trees, which should not cause her trouble. She had climbed many a tree in her youth, but not in an ill-fitting gown.

A ripped dress was worth getting away.

“The poor dear thing,” an older lady said, pulling Gabrielle out of her thoughts. The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. “Hopefully she does not join his past wives into an early grave. What a pity.”

Sutherland turned abruptly, his icy gaze shifting over the woman who flipped open her fan and started waving it vigorously. The slight tremor of her hand gave away her false bravado.

To maintain her sanity, Gabrielle tuned out all the voices and focused on what she must do to get away from Sutherland.

Above on the balcony a large orchestra played, and below them guests danced, while others mingled. In an adjoining room, men and women gambled. There were so many people milling about, it would be relatively easy to slip away.

“I would like to introduce you to a good friend of mine,” Sutherland said, escorting her through the crowd that grew thicker by the second. Her hand slipped from his elbow as a small group of young women separated her from the viscount.

Gabrielle turned and ran straight into a man’s chest.

“Forgive me, lass.” Strong hands steadied her.

“It is I who am sorry,” she murmured, looking up into piercing light blue eyes. She opened her mouth to say something else, but hesitated. How handsome he was. His lovely blue eyes framed by long thick lashes were in such contrast to his silky dark hair that fell in soft waves to his immense shoulders. High cheekbones, full lips, strong chin—the man was staggeringly beautiful. Her heart rate accelerated, and try as she might, she could not wipe the smile from her face.

“Forgive me, lass,” he said again, in a pleasant Scottish accent.

As she stared, she saw a flash of a vision of a medieval warrior, who was without question the man standing before her now. But instead of the expensive black suit and silver waistcoat he wore tonight, he wore snug brown leather breeches, a linen tunic, and a plaid sash. His hair was worn long as it was now, but with two braids on either side of his face.

“Have we met before?” she asked, more intrigued than she knew she should be.

His warm smile turned boyish and had her heart skipping a beat. He turned to his companion, and Gabrielle noted the man’s twin, who grinned widely at his brother and a tall, equally gorgeous blond. Indeed, the three men shared a secret smile before he turned back to her.

“Perhaps—a long time ago.”

His words intrigued her, and she yearned to find out exactly what he meant, but reality came in the way of Sutherland’s firm voice. “Gabrielle!”

The handsome men turned to Sutherland, their smiles losing their luster.

“Who are you?” Sutherland asked the men rudely as he reached for Gabrielle’s hand. She tried to use her gifts to send a similar shock, like she had earlier, but this time it did not work. No doubt she had overused her abilities when saving the boy. To her dismay, Sutherland grabbed her hand and pulled her closer.

A blush rushed up Gabrielle’s cheeks.

The Scot glanced at Sutherland and gave a curt nod. “I am Darius McLeod, and this is my brother Demetri and our friend Remont.”

Darius MacLeod. Even his name sounded familiar, but where had she heard it before? She had never been to Scotland, though she had longed to. Years ago she had seen a rendering of the Scottish Highlands. Something about that picture had stirred her.

Demetri asked Sutherland a question while Darius bent down and picked up a fan, which she had not realized she had dropped. His gloved hand brushed up against hers as he handed her the fan, and she saw a vision of an old manor house made of dark gray stone, sitting in a large, heather-strewn valley between two immense hills. The grass-covered hills were so tall, almost disappearing into the thick clouds.

Was she seeing Darius’s home?

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Sutherland said brusquely. “Please forgive us. I have promised to introduce my fiancée to friends. Come, my dear.”

Gabrielle saw Darius’s face change when Sutherland mentioned the word fiancée. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. MacLeod,” she blurted, wishing she could marry the handsome Scot instead.

“Please … call me Darius, Gabrielle,” he said loud enough for her alone.

“Lord Sutherland, perhaps you would like to join us in a game of cards?” Demetri asked, pulling out a pocket watch. “In an hour or so?”

Sutherland’s gaze shifted from one man to the other, no doubt taking in the fine fit of their impeccably tailored clothing. The viscount always had a weakness for gambling. He nodded. “I look forward to it.” Sutherland glanced at Gabrielle. “Come, my dear. There is someone I would like you to meet.” Lifting her hand to his face, he kissed her fingers.

Gabrielle’s face flushed more by the second.

As they walked away, Gabrielle could feel Darius’s ice-blue gaze linger on her. She dared a glance behind her to find him still watching, and the sides of his mouth lifted in a soft grin. Her heart hammered as she smiled back at him. Lucky was the woman who won that man’s heart. If only she could be so lucky. His twin clapped him on the back and grinned widely as he whispered something in his ear.

What did they talk about, those two sinfully handsome brothers and their beautiful friend who had all the women staring at them? She could scarcely blame them for looking.

Even now as she glanced again at both men, she felt something oddly . . . familiar. Again, the image she had seen when she had first met Darius, dressed in medieval clothing, came back to her.

And what of his response to her question about meeting him before, and his comment. Perhaps—a long time ago.

Sutherland stopped and introduced her to a group of his friends. Many were old like him, and the way they watched her made her want to run for the nearest exit. Her saving grace was the wife of one of them, who seemed genuinely kind and even a tad bit sympathetic toward her.

Distracted by her introduction to Darius MacLeod, Gabrielle struggled to stay engaged in the current conversation, which had to do with a popular art exhibit on London’s east side. Gabrielle scanned the ballroom for the handsome MacLeod brothers and their companion.

She found them soon enough, across the room talking to a group of giggling young women. Envy rushed through Gabrielle as she watched Darius grin as a woman leaned into him and rested a delicate hand on a broad shoulder.

Uncomfortable with how jealous she was becoming, she quickly looked away. Silly woman! You have no business being jealous of a man you do not even know.

None of them compare to you, Gabrielle.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She swore she had heard Darius MacLeod speak to her. It had been his voice with that lovely Scottish burr.

She dared a glance at the Scot again. To her shock, Darius MacLeod looked straight at her and smiled softly before turning his attention back to the other woman.

She felt him watch her from the corner of his eye, and suddenly, without warning, an image slammed into her thoughts, blocking out everything else.

Both Gabrielle and Darius lay naked on a large canopied bed. The only light came from the fire blazing in a nearby hearth. She trembled as she lay back on the silky blankets, and he covered her with his large, hard body. His lips were soft as he kissed her gently, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, urging her to open.

Her hands moved up his back, over his strong, broad shoulders, and back down again. Though his skin was smooth, the muscle and sinew beneath were rock hard. She grabbed his high, firm buttocks, her nails biting into the skin, and he smiled against her lips.

His mouth left hers, and he kissed her chin, her neck, her chest, the swell of her breasts, and then he kissed her already sensitive nipple. She wove her fingers through his hair, keeping him anchored there. She sighed as he sucked lightly and then flicked his tongue over the tight nub, over and over again. Her nails dug into his scalp and he groaned low in his throat. She arched her back a little, giving him better access.

His thick manhood felt like steel against her leg, and she shifted, aching for him to fill her. Glancing down, she watched him pleasure her, his long lashes fanning against high cheekbones, his long, pointed tongue making love to her with such skill.

A long-fingered hand splayed against Gabrielle’s belly and she held her breath. A second later, that breath came out in a rush as Darius touched her sex.

He kissed her, his tongue mating with hers frantically before he pulled away. He slipped a finger inside her and she gasped.

His white teeth flashed, and then he bent his head, playing homage to her breasts once more, kissing one while touching the other. Indeed, he had a delicious way of using his teeth with just the right pressure, and his fingers rolled around the nipple just so, then pulled. How could it be that he knew so much about her body, when she’d had no idea doing such things would bring pleasure instead of pain?

No doubt a man like Darius MacLeod had a lot of experience.

“Do you not agree, Gabrielle?”

Gabrielle looked at the woman, who watched her with a quizzical expression. Oh dear. “Sorry?”

The woman smiled softly. “You looked a million miles away.”

If she only knew…

“Forgive me, I thought I saw someone I once knew, but I am mistaken.”

“That is quite alright, my dear.” The woman winked. “I know all these people clamoring for your attention must be overwhelming. And on the eve of your wedding. How excited you must be.”

Gabrielle’s stomach tightened and she forced a smile. She would not lie and say she was excited. So she stayed quiet.

The lady cleared her throat and leaned close to Gabrielle. “Sutherland told us he cannot wait another moment to make you his bride,” she said in a tone that was difficult to read. “Our lips are sealed.”

She wanted to go back to the vision, where she was making love to Darius MacLeod, instead of the reality and hell that her life had become.

Gabrielle took the opportunity to sneak a glance at Darius, who was not where he had been moments before, nor was his brother or the blond.

Disappointed, she looked about, almost frantically. Surely he had not already left?

The woman’s lips curved into a smile. “Oh my goodness, if only I were forty years younger.”

Gabrielle followed the woman’s gaze to find Darius walking toward them, his brother and Remont right behind him.

Her heart missed a beat as the sensual images came back to her in a rush. Oh, the things he had done to her with that lovely, full-lipped mouth and those long-fingered hands.

“I know you are to be married, but any woman, married or no, would give their right hand to have just one night with the two of them.” She tapped Gabrielle’s hand with her fan. “Truth be told, I would be elated to have just one. Though both would prove for a satisfying night to be sure.” The woman’s gaze was positively wanton as she stared boldly at the approaching twins.

Gabrielle’s heart soared when Darius stopped before her and bowed formally. “Miss Fairmont, may I have this dance?”

Before Sutherland could stop her, she nodded and took the arm Darius offered. She felt his muscles clench and flex beneath her hand. “I tried to get your attention earlier, but it looked as though you were a million miles away.”

Dear Lord, could he read her wicked thoughts? “I am guilty of daydreaming.”

“And was it a good daydream?” he asked, his voice low and seductive.

She met his stare boldly. “Yes. Yes, it was.”

He grinned devilishly, and her heart gave another tug. In fact, it was odd how safe and familiar she felt around him, as though she had known him for ages, which was strange, because she rarely felt safe around anyone, particularly those of the opposite sex.

They took their place among the other dancers, and Gabrielle tried not to stare at him, but she could not help herself, especially after her wicked fantasy.

Again, she wondered why could she not marry someone like Darius MacLeod instead of Sutherland.

I want you, Gabrielle. All those images, or daydreams as you call them, are real. That is what we will experience together and more. Paradise. If you will just trust me.

Her pulse skittered, and thankfully the music started and the dance began.

Come away with me, Gabrielle. Far away from London and Sutherland.

Good gracious, what was happening to her? She was hearing and seeing things that could not possibly be real. Was she going crazy, or perhaps hearing what she wanted to hear, and seeing what she wanted to see?

Her mother had always said she had an overactive imagination.

She shook her head and focused on the dance steps. From the corner of her eye, she could see Sutherland talking to Darius’s brother and friend.

She glanced up at Darius and he smiled.

Mind, body, and soul, I shall have you again. Return to me, Gabrielle. Return to me, my love.