glacial flames as he stared disdainfully at her, showing Clair his displeasure. Of all the guests at this house party, he was seated next to the very irritating and ordinary Miss Paine. What an insult to him, a connoisseur of great beauty. Not to mention the fact that Miss Paine was touched in the head. Why had Clair chosen her for his dinner partner? Surely she didn’t think he would find Miss Paine of interest. Asher pondered as he glanced sideways at the object of his pique.
He supposed Miss Paine did have a graceful swanlike neck, pale and elegant. And her eyes were very large, slightly tilted and of a silverish green hue he had never seen on a human being before. But her nose was definitely too snub, her hair of a plain brown color, and she had all those tiny little freckles.
Humph, he thought, turning his steely gaze back in the direction of his hostess.
Clair winked at him, then looked at her husband, who was seated on her left. She ignored Asher’s aristocratic huff and, with an expression of utter innocence, gazed into her spouse’s dark green eyes.
Ian Huntsley almost laughed. He knew his wife’s look well. Leaning closer to avoid being overheard, he asked, “My love, what are you up to?”
“Moi?” she said.
Ian arched a brow.
Clair laughed. “You know me so well.”
Ian waggled his brows. It wasn’t the pale moon that excited him anymore—it was the thrill of his wife. Just the nearness of her had him panting, wanting to howl with delight. “Shall I describe in detail that mole you have on your very cute, very luscious—”
She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Harry Ian!”
He nipped at her fingers. He knew he was in trouble when she called him Harry. “ Elbow. You have the most luscious elbows I know.”
Clair withdrew her hand. She knew exactly what her husband had truly been going to say. But that was the trouble with Harry Ian: He really was a wolf—and not only every full moon, but in bed, out of bed, on the table, on his desk in the study, in the stables and even on the blue Persian rug in their bedroom. Or at least wolfishly hungry for her. Yes, love and passion definitely burned brightly in their bedchamber, enough to keep them warm on even the frostiest winter night.
Ian chuckled and Clair blushed. “What are you up to?” he repeated.
Clair glanced down the table at the scowling Asher and frowning Jane. Ian followed her gaze.
“Well?” he asked, frowning as well. “What? Asher? As much as I hate to admit it, the vampire saved us both from a vicious blood feud.” It had formed a blood bond of sorts between them. But that didn’t mean he had to like the bloody pompous bastard.
“Asher needs a wife, and Jane needs a husband,” Clair explained. Her eyes were all innocent and wide.
Ian groaned. “No. No, you are not matchmaking again. Please tell me you aren’t. Besides, Asher eats females like Miss Paine for breakfast. Literally.”
Clair smiled her secret smile. Her husband knew that she was a friend of the famous Van Helsings; she just hadn’t told him that Jane was one, having introduced her as Miss Paine. Clair knew that Ian might have one or two tiny objections to her matchmaking a master vampire and a vampire hunter. However, Clair also knew that once the pair fell in love, her slight omission would be a sweet deceit, and Ian would forget all about it… she hoped.
Ian glanced back at the pair, who were busily ignoring each other, and shook his head. “I don’t exactly think it’s a match made in heaven. But then, with a vampire for the intended, I don’t think it could be!”
“Very funny,” Clair remarked. “I think it’s a fine match. Asher is very lonely, and so is Jane. Jane is loyal and intelligent. Also, she’s very clever when she’s not nervous. Asher is loyal in his own way, and his wit is piercing.”
“Along with his fangs.” Ian shook his head. “Clair, they don’t even appear to like each other.”
“Nonsense! Great-aunt Abby
He supposed Miss Paine did have a graceful swanlike neck, pale and elegant. And her eyes were very large, slightly tilted and of a silverish green hue he had never seen on a human being before. But her nose was definitely too snub, her hair of a plain brown color, and she had all those tiny little freckles.
Humph, he thought, turning his steely gaze back in the direction of his hostess.
Clair winked at him, then looked at her husband, who was seated on her left. She ignored Asher’s aristocratic huff and, with an expression of utter innocence, gazed into her spouse’s dark green eyes.
Ian Huntsley almost laughed. He knew his wife’s look well. Leaning closer to avoid being overheard, he asked, “My love, what are you up to?”
“Moi?” she said.
Ian arched a brow.
Clair laughed. “You know me so well.”
Ian waggled his brows. It wasn’t the pale moon that excited him anymore—it was the thrill of his wife. Just the nearness of her had him panting, wanting to howl with delight. “Shall I describe in detail that mole you have on your very cute, very luscious—”
She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Harry Ian!”
He nipped at her fingers. He knew he was in trouble when she called him Harry. “ Elbow. You have the most luscious elbows I know.”
Clair withdrew her hand. She knew exactly what her husband had truly been going to say. But that was the trouble with Harry Ian: He really was a wolf—and not only every full moon, but in bed, out of bed, on the table, on his desk in the study, in the stables and even on the blue Persian rug in their bedroom. Or at least wolfishly hungry for her. Yes, love and passion definitely burned brightly in their bedchamber, enough to keep them warm on even the frostiest winter night.
Ian chuckled and Clair blushed. “What are you up to?” he repeated.
Clair glanced down the table at the scowling Asher and frowning Jane. Ian followed her gaze.
“Well?” he asked, frowning as well. “What? Asher? As much as I hate to admit it, the vampire saved us both from a vicious blood feud.” It had formed a blood bond of sorts between them. But that didn’t mean he had to like the bloody pompous bastard.
“Asher needs a wife, and Jane needs a husband,” Clair explained. Her eyes were all innocent and wide.
Ian groaned. “No. No, you are not matchmaking again. Please tell me you aren’t. Besides, Asher eats females like Miss Paine for breakfast. Literally.”
Clair smiled her secret smile. Her husband knew that she was a friend of the famous Van Helsings; she just hadn’t told him that Jane was one, having introduced her as Miss Paine. Clair knew that Ian might have one or two tiny objections to her matchmaking a master vampire and a vampire hunter. However, Clair also knew that once the pair fell in love, her slight omission would be a sweet deceit, and Ian would forget all about it… she hoped.
Ian glanced back at the pair, who were busily ignoring each other, and shook his head. “I don’t exactly think it’s a match made in heaven. But then, with a vampire for the intended, I don’t think it could be!”
“Very funny,” Clair remarked. “I think it’s a fine match. Asher is very lonely, and so is Jane. Jane is loyal and intelligent. Also, she’s very clever when she’s not nervous. Asher is loyal in his own way, and his wit is piercing.”
“Along with his fangs.” Ian shook his head. “Clair, they don’t even appear to like each other.”
“Nonsense! Great-aunt Abby
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