She flushed. "Thank you." Then she laughed. "I'm getting a flashback of that scene in Titanic with Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet at the grand staircase, but considering the ending, I guess that's not a good omen."

Spade drew his mouth away from her hand, but didn't let it go. "Not to worry. The only icebergs here are tiny ones served in glasses."

Her eyes roved over him in obvious enjoyment of his matching eighteenth-century attire, but then skidded away when he caught her gaze. An invisible wall seemed to be erected around her even though he still held her hand.

"So, what's the agenda for tonight?" she asked in a businesslike manner, squaring her shoulders.

Take stock of Web. See who his associates are. Have you na**d in my arms before sunrise. "Just appear madly enamored of me, and that should suffice."

She smiled almost bleakly as she tucked her hand in his arm. "Will do."

Spade wondered at her abrupt switch in mood. Was she still cross with him for snapping at her earlier when he couldn't find her? Or was she glum because she believed she was destined to be chained forever to her brands? That must be it, he decided, giving her a sideways look. Soon enough she'd realize he had no intention of resigning her to such a fate.

"We'll greet our guests as they arrive, and then it will be the usual drinking, dancing, and socializing you'd expect from any party. Even though I don't expect unpleasantries, try not to be without me or Alten near you."

As if summoned, Alten appeared, wearing a modern version of a tuxedo and a white mask around his eyes.

Denise let out a small laugh. "What's with the mask?"

Spade pulled out a lavender and crystal creation with combs to anchor in her hair. "This is a masquerade ball, didn't I tell you?"

"No, you didn't," she said, taking the mask and turning it over in her hands. "The whole outfit is so pretty. Who am I supposed to be?"

"Marie Antoinette. And I'm King Louis XVI."

She gave him a pensive look. "They were both executed."

Spade leaned down, brushing his mouth near her ear. "I have no intention of letting history repeat itself with us, darling."

And he didn't. Denise would not suffer the same fate Giselda had by an untimely death. He'd keep her safe. This time, he wouldn't fail.

Denise took a step back, putting more distance between them, her smile a little forced as she focused on Alten.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

Alten grinned, bowing deeply to Denise. "Casanova, of course."

Denise tried to remember names by matching them with their masks, but she quickly realized that with so many people, she'd never get them all straight. For an impromptu ball, Spade had sure managed to fill a room. Or several rooms, to be more accurate.

The only person aside from Spade and Alten that Denise knew she wouldn't forget was Web. He'd almost glided into the house, a tall man with a jet and crystal mask covering tawny hair and a face that was handsome, from what Denise could see of it. His costume was also black, with crystals tastefully accent ing the edges of his sleeves, shoulders, coat, and pants. After Spade made introductions and she'd accepted his compliment on her dress, she asked him about his costume.

"A cosmic black hole," Web explained, his mouth lifting in a smile that was polite and challenging at the same time.

Something deadly and unstoppable; of course Web had chosen that to meet his potential new vampire neighbor. She supposed coming as the largest c*ck of the keep would have been too obvious a statement.

"How fascinating," Denise said. She even sounded sincere.

The woman with Web, whom Denise pegged as a vampire simply because no one could breathe in a dress that tight, didn't look pleased when Web announced that he hoped Denise saved him a dance. Spade had laughed and said he'd try to let her away from him long enough, but underneath the smoothness of his voice, he didn't sound pleased about it, either.

As the evening wore on, Denise kept reminding herself not to focus on Web and who was with him, and not to keep searching for Nathanial's face under every partial mask of every male in the room. What was the point? She'd made her decision to quit looking for Nathanial. And then tomorrow she was leaving, never to see Spade again unless he happened to drop in on Cat and Bones while she was also around. That thought actually bothered her more than being branded for the rest of her life. Despite knowing better, she'd let herself fall for him. It took the eve of her departure for her to truly realize how much he'd come to mean to her. How could she fake being a happy couple when her already-battered heart felt like it was breaking again?

Tonight couldn't end soon enough.

At least the food was delicious. Plus there was so much of it, even Denise was stuffed after her second helping. The party was spread out over the entire ground floor and the second floor, where the ballroom was. After seeing several vampires stop by one of the parlor rooms upstairs, then come out with notably pinker complexions, Denise realized Spade offered a different sort of buffet up there. She wondered if he had special humans lined up as snacks, or if there was just a plasma version of the champagne fountain that flowed downstairs. She decided not to find out.

Alten sat next to Denise, since for the past hour, Spade had been sweeping around the room exchanging pleasantries with Monaco's undead elite. She knew it was useless torture, but she kept looking for him among the crowd, his dark head so easy to spot since he was taller than almost everyone in the room. Spade looked stunning in his vintage formal wear, a complicated knot like a silk waterfall at his neck, resplendent embroidered navy coat, matching pants, waist sword, and knee-high boots.

Wow had been her first thought on seeing him dressed that way, followed immediately by Don't drool. Even now, watching him, Denise couldn't help but lick her lips.

"Denise."

She blinked, returning her attention to Alten. "Sorry, what?"

His mouth quirked when he followed her gaze to Spade. "I asked if you were enjoying your filet mignon."

"Oh yes. Delicious," she replied automatically, and took another bite.

"Good. Enjoy it while you still can."

That turned Denise's attention fully to him. Had Spade told Alten that she was leaving tomorrow? "Why do you say that?"

He shrugged. "Food doesn't taste the same after you turn into a vampire."

Denise almost choked on her steak. Alten instantly began clapping her on the back, but she waved him off, swallowing her bite and then taking a hefty sip of champagne.

"Why would you think I'd do that?" she managed, voice still a little hoarse from the steak nearly lodging in her throat.

Even with the white mask covering half of Alten's face, she could see his expression was dumbfounded.

"Because you're with Spade," he replied, his tone signifying that this should have been obvious to her.

"So?" Denise said, and then remembered that no, she wasn't really with Spade, which made the whole topic moot.

Before Alten could reply, Spade swept up to their table, his mouth set in a tight line.

"Have better care next time," Spade said sharply to Alten before bending down to encircle her from behind. "All right, darling?" he murmured, kissing the back of her neck.

It's only an act, Denise reminded herself. "I'm fine - and it's not his fault I didn't chew my food before swallowing."

Spade exchanged a glance with Alten that she couldn't read. Then he rose, holding out his hand.

"Come, dance with me."

With her fragile emotional state over him, Denise didn't want to, but considering their charade, it would look odd if she refused. She nodded, letting him draw her to her feet.

Chapter Twenty-two

When they arrived at the ballroom, Spade took Denise's gloved hand in his, the other placed at her waist.

"Do you know how to waltz?" he asked, bending low more for the enjoyment of feeling her skin so close to his lips than out of concern for anyone overhearing his question.

"Yes. I - we - took lessons before my wedding," she replied.

A flicker of grief passed over Denise's face before it was gone, replaced by a veiled anticipation that had nothing to do with memories of her slain husband when Spade pulled her closer.

"I was taught when I was a boy. Every nobleman's son was expected to know how to waltz, to ride, to shoot, and to tend to their estate." Spade led her along to the sedate music as he spoke, giving her time to find the rhythm and relax into the steps.

"It's so hard to imagine you as a child." Her mask did nothing to hide the frank inquisitiveness in her expression. "What was it like, back then?"

"The setting was different." He gave her a jaded smile. "But people don't change, not even over the course of millennia. When I was a boy, everything was titles, estates, and royal favor. Today it's degrees, jobs, and retirement portfolios. The motivation remains the same, however; caring for those who belong to you. Protecting them from harm. Trying to carve out a little happiness. It was that way then and it is that way now."

Denise didn't say anything for several moments. Spade studied her, not bothering to hide the intentness in his gaze. Her hair was up, but stray curls had been left deliberately trailing in places, swinging to the music as they moved. Her mask covered from her eyebrows to the top of her nose, curving around her cheekbones and leaving the lower half of her face bare. She licked her lower lip in contemplation, not knowing how that simple gesture inflamed him.

"And you met Bones on the ship to the penal colonies." Her voice lowered. "Can I ask what you were in jail for, if it's not too personal?"

In fact it was very personal. So much that not even Crispin knew the whole story behind it.

"My father was a good man. Stern, perhaps, but that was common for the time. Yet he had a weakness: He couldn't stop gambling. Today he'd be called an addict, but back then, it was seen as lack of sound judgment. He'd run deeply into debt by the time I was twenty-five. I was his only son, his heir, which meant I couldn't take to the sea or the military to garner funds to repay his debts. So I did the only thing I could - I married an heiress."

Denise stopped dancing. "You're married?" she blurted.

Several heads turned and Denise flushed. Spade bit back his laughter.

"When I was human, darling. She's been dead these past centuries."

The vampires around them resumed their dancing. Marriage in undead terms was far more rigid than a human marriage. He'd be risking Denise's life if he were married by vampire law. The punishment for anyone committing adultery with a vampire's spouse was death without reprisal, should the wronged spouse choose to exercise his or her right. With their very long lives, no wonder marriage was an uncommon state for vampires. Humans had enough trouble with marriage when it was only a half-century commitment at best.

Denise's cheeks were still darker than her makeup accounted for. Spade didn't mind her outburst; it pleased him. If she wasn't jealous at the idea that he might be married, then she didn't care for him as he wanted her to.

"You married someone for her money?" Denise whispered, disapproval clear in her tone.

He leaned down. "She married me for my title," he whispered back. "It was mercenary the whole way 'round, I assure you."

"Did you love her?"

As soon as Denise asked the question, she sucked in a breath, looking away. It was clear she regretted it.

He didn't, for the same reason her jealousy had pleased him. "No, nor she me," he replied evenly. "Madeline wanted to increase her station at court and I made no secret about needing her money. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement."

And a miserable one, as many arranged marriages were at the time. "Still, despite Madeline's fat coffers, it was only a matter of time until my father was in debt once more."

The years made it possible for Spade to recount the rest without emotion staining his tone.

"He hid it from me, at first. Explained away the letters from his acquaintances or the mutterings at court. But then when he indebted himself to the Duke of Warwick over a game of whist, and he couldn't pay, the duke complained to the king."

And since his father had also gotten caught bedding the lovely young duchess, Warwick had been in no mood for mercy. He'd rounded up every courtier his father owed, whipped them into a frenzy, and then implored the king for justice on behalf of all of them.

"They came for my father at night, taking him away to Newgate, where he'd rot until every last farthing was repaid," Spade said. "Warwick knew my father wouldn't live long enough for me to find a way to repay his debts. Even young, strong prisoners died all the time at Newgate. He'd done it not to jail him, but to kill him."

"I can't believe he could be jailed over debts," Denise gasped.

Spade let out a wry chuckle, turning her in time to the music. "Indeed, one of the things different back then was that there was no declaring bankruptcy and going on with your life, especially if you incurred royal ire. My family's estate was seized by the crown, Madeline left me since my title was now worthless, and my father grew ever sicker in jail. So I went to the duke to offer him a bargain: Transfer my father's debt to me."

The memory of that day still scalded; Warwick laughing at him, taunting him that soon he'd be burying his father, and then finally demanding that Spade beg for him to transfer the debt. Spade had done it, accepting the humiliation to secure his father's life, not realizing that ultimately Warwick agreed only because he knew this would hurt his father more. It had. His father drank himself to death less than two years after Spade's deportation.