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did he only feel arousal as the fingers of
her free hand drifted over the .cut?
    Get a grip. She needs more
than your cock at the moment
. Thomas had warned
him she had an astounding and often infuriating way of bringing a man's lust
into every situation. Right now though, worry was taking precedence.
    Her hand stopped drifting,
clutched in a sudden spasm. Though she was a petite woman whose head barely
reached his shoulder, he was sure he'd have the imprints of her fingers on his
forearm and possibly the bones beneath for some time. Pain was part of being a
human servant, though. When he'd stood before the altar in the monastery
chapel, the blood clotting on his back and making him lightheaded, his body
screaming for relief, he'd understood that. Thomas had been preparing him with
the flogging. Physical suffering would be part of accepting his lady's regard,
and never allowed to distract him from her care.
    Therefore, despite the
increasing strength in her grip, it was the convulsive movement and the
trembling in her hand which shot his attention back to her face. The lines
around her mouth had deepened, giving him warning. "My lady."
    When she slumped in the chair,
he caught her. Her hair tangled in his fingers.
    "Take me to the door,
Jacob." Her lashes fluttered, showing him her green eyes briefly. "It
will be all right then. Driver… Mr. Ingram, should be out there. He'll get me
home."
    ----
Chapter Five

     
    She wasn't inviting him to go
with her. He could get her to the door, maybe to the car, and that was all. He
could hardly contain his frustration.
    Thomas had said it might take
time to gain entry into her household. He'd come up with several different
strategies for Jacob to execute over time, the manicure being just the first.
So while Jacob had not planned to be unsuccessful this night, he'd been
prepared to deal with it if he was. However, Thomas hadn't known there was
something wrong with her. Having seen the strange disease which had taken her
servant, Jacob felt his heart clutch with dread, his mind filled with
questions. All of his plans to be patient were blown away by the fact she
obviously needed a protector far more than Thomas had realized.
    But the way she'd looked up at
him, trusting him at least for this moment, pushed away the disturbing
thoughts. He propped her gently in the chair and retrieved from the pine
cabinet several things not necessary for a manicure. Forearm gauntlets carrying
a variety of silver-tipped wooden shafts and small knives, and a nine
millimeter handgun. He shucked the hose, thrust his legs quickly into a pair of
worn jeans and tugged on a pair of boots under them before putting the gun in
its belt holster on his back waistband. Quickly he laced the gauntlets to his
forearms and checked the triggering mechanism. Shrugging on a long-sleeved navy
blue shirt, he buttoned enough buttons to hold it on and conceal the gauntlets
and gun, though it was loose enough to allow him access to them.
    At least there was one good
thing about her loss of consciousness. He was certain when he reached for the
weapons she would have put his face through a wall, suspecting he was a trap
sent by her enemies. The truth might elicit the same reaction. He just didn't
feel their first meeting was the appropriate time to mention that among his
many past career choices he'd been a vampire hunter. He'd hoped for a more
casual and affable moment to interject that into the conversation, though now
he was wondering if the woman ever had a relaxed moment.
    This one had been forced upon
her. Bending, he scooped her up in his arms. As her head rolled inward, her
cheek pressing to his chest, he had the gratifying and humbling experience of
knowing she'd relinquished all control to him. The gods always had a backwards
way of offering opportunities to prove oneself.
    When he got to the foyer, he
found the limo was in the middle of the parking lot under a lamp. Prompt and
ready as she'd said.
    "Is she