Jane Austen: Blood Persuasion by Janet Mullany Read Free Book Online Page A

He tucked the instrument beneath his chin and plucked the new string, grimacing. “I wouldn’t let any girl I know go anywhere with the likes of him.”
    Jane stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her. There were no footmen present; and the gentlemanly guard who had unsuccessfully prevented her from interrupting William and Luke’s conversation was gone also. She stood listening to the sounds of a house creaking and settling as the night air chilled. A candelabra with guttering candles gave off only a dim light. The door to the parlor was ajar, a little grayish-blue moonlight spilling onto the floor, for by now the fire and candles had burned down. All was quiet.
    “Anna?” she called.
    There was no answer. She moved forward into the shadows, her step becoming soft and quiet, a huntress following her prey, and turned into the soft welcoming darkness of the hall.
    She froze. A quiet sound, a breath, a sigh, came from beyond a closed doorway to her left. The room held no light; only the grayish glimmer of moonlight showed beneath the door.
    She closed her hand around the handle and turned it, calf muscles tensing in preparation for the leap forward she might need. No, would need, for the scent of blood, mixed with Anna’s scent of apple blossom, sharp and fresh and young, was strong in the air.
    She flung the door open to see Duval on the bed with Anna motionless in his arms, his mouth dark with blood. He raised his head and snarled.
    “Let her go, damn you!”
    He pushed Anna aside and met Jane’s attack. She went for his throat, but he gripped her wrists and they slid from the bed to the floor, Jane attempting to knee him in the groin. Long ago she’d been taught to fight in an ungentlemanly style, and her training served her well, but she was at a disadvantage against the strength of one fully Damned; moreover, one interrupted while dining, which was much like interrupting a dog at a bone. She broke a hand free and attempted to claw his eyes, but he cursed and thrust her away.
    She landed in a tangle of skirts and petticoats, made worse by the heavy satin bedcover, which had been dragged from the bed by their struggle, depositing Anna, still in a swoon, onto the floor. Duval leaped to his feet, reaching inside his waistcoat; he must have a weapon there. A weapon? The Damned needed no such thing—
    His arm flashed down and Jane rolled to her side and bit his ankle, ripping his silk stockings. She heard a howl of pain as her teeth slid over bone and skin.
    A dull coldness radiated from her collarbone. She was hurt in a way she couldn’t quite define, injured, weakened. No, more than injured: she was fading in a chill grayness like fog where sight and sound slid away.
    Pray for me, Cassandra, I beg of you. Pray for me.

Chapter 5
    “J ane! Wake and speak to me!”
    She was too tired to respond to that beloved voice, and the vigorous shaking to which she was subjected merely annoyed her. The frozen grayness into which she had sunk was not welcoming, but any response would take too much effort.
    “Damn you! Wake!”
    “Pray moderate your language, sir,” she managed. “And have I not already been damned once?”
    “That’s better. Come, drink.”
    The rim of a glass nudged at her mouth, and she opened for wine flavored with the blood that once had been dearest in the world to her, a flood of desire and strength spinning through her body.
    She opened her eyes before she said something foolish of love or of her injured feelings and gazed into Luke’s face. To her mortification she lay in his arms, both of them sprawled on the floor among the bloodstained folds of the satin coverlet. As her strength returned she pushed herself away.
    He held his wrist out to her and a bolt of excitement ran through her, but he merely wished her to button his cuff again. She did so.
    “Anna! Where is she?”
    “William has escorted her back to your family. She is perfectly well. Duval had very little chance to