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jumped down. “I can’t believe demons escaped me.”
    Mr. Swift dropped into a crouch at her side as Sommersby stood. His thighs bunched, solid and powerful. Serena looked up into green eyes—darkly lashed green eyes. The lashes dipped. She saw pained concern. She had never seen Mr. Swift look worried—she had never seen him without his cocky confidence.
    “Why did you come to this place?” The growl was Lord Sommersby, now pacing, as he raked his fingers through his hair.
    She couldn’t tell his lordship she feared she was the first child of a vampire. That Lord Ashcroft—his commander—had lied to her. That she needed the Vlad Dracul journal to blackmail the arrogant lord who controlled the Royal Society and force him to give her the truth about her past.
    Lord Sommersby turned on his heel. “You haven’t answered my question, Miss Lark.”
    “Leave her alone, milord .” Mr. Swift snarled the title. “The little lark has had a bad fright.
    She doesn’t need your questions.”
    Little lark? Yet the name sent warmth to her heart. Mr. Swift moved his arms around her and leaned gently against her from behind. The satin of his waistcoat brushed her back. Smooth leather—the gloves covering his palms—skimmed down her arms. He was cradling her! “There’s nothing to fear now.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Swift, but I am able to withstand his lordship’s examination.” She hoped.
    She knew she should draw away from Swift’s touch, but she couldn’t. Straining, she kept her voice even and cool. “I came to find vampires, my lord. I am training to be a vampire slayer, after all.”
    “You did not have permission to come here. You are not yet a vampire slayer.” Sommersby crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. The earl stood six and a half feet tall—with enormous shoulders, massive arms, a huge chest.
    Serena tipped up her chin in answer to his glare, aware she was cradled close to Drake Swift.
    “I did not require your permission.”
    “Yes, you do, Miss Lark. You are an apprentice member of the Royal Society.”
    “You can give me any punishment you wish, my lord, but I’d do it again. I am not a servant any longer.”
    Swift’s low, dangerous laugh rumbled from behind her. “You are always a servant, love,” he said. “In the Royal Society, everyone is a servant to some master.”
    Sommersby shot him a dark look before returning his disapproval to her. “You risk all hunters by such a foolish mission, Miss Lark,” he said.
    “I do know what to do. I came very well armed.”
    “And a lot of good it did you. You have read books. It is an entirely different matter to hunt a vampire.”

    Blood Rose ©Sharon Page 2007 Email: [email protected] 15

    “What I would like to know is where I am now,” she said. “And I would like to know where my clothes are.”
    But Sommersby ignored her question. He dropped to one knee before her and caught hold of her wrist again. In a throaty growl, he urged, “Tell me what they did to you. Why did they not bite you?”
    Sommersby began to stroke her sensitive wrist. Mr. Swift was caressing the bare skin of her shoulders with the familiarity of a lover. Serena gulped, her throat tight. She was reliving every dream she’d ever had about these two hunters. She was so dangerously aware. Aware of the weight of their hands on her skin, aware of the tang of male sweat, the sharpness of their breathing.
    How could she explain why the vampires hadn’t bitten her, the way they would any victim?
    “You do not have to answer his questions,” Swift urged.
    “I can.” She tightened her grip on the robe, knowing her cheeks were pink. “They chained me to the table. They said they were saving me for their master, whom they called Lukos. That is why they didn’t bite me, or…or attack me. He is supposed to be sailing to England.”
    “You are very brave,” Mr. Swift murmured. “Now you should put that robe on properly. I fear it might fall down at any moment. No more