"Well, I think that's the one."

Rachel stared at herself in the mirror, surprise clear in her expression as Marguerite plucked at some of the blond curls and drew them forward to frame her face. She couldn't believe the difference a wig could make. Rachel hardly recognized herself, and was quite sure that no one else would.

"Yes, this will do nicely," Marguerite decided with a satisfied sigh. She smiled at Rachel in the mirror. "Now you can go to Lissianna's wedding... and so can Etienne."

Rachel managed not to wince. Much to her dismay, she had learned today that Etienne, who was supposed to be one of the ushers, had skipped the dress rehearsal the night before because he hadn't wished to leave Rachel "alone and unprotected." She hadn't even known that he had skipped it until Marguerite arrived today, full of determination to take her shopping. She'd also said: come hell or high water, Etienne was going to be at his sister's wedding even if they had to disguise Rachel as a goat to get her there. The older woman had quickly followed that up with a reassurance that she was quite sure disguising Rachel as a goat would not be necessary; she had simply been making a point.

Rachel herself had been too busy glaring at Etienne to appreciate the woman's soothing words. Now, she stared at herself in the mirror and happily agreed that being disguised as a goat wouldn't be necessary.

"Well, it's makeup and nails next, and then we're done," Marguerite announced. With a pleased sigh, she glanced at the woman who had been fitting Rachel with wigs. "Where is Vicki?"

"Waiting in her room," the woman answered. "I'll escort you back."

"Good, good." Marguerite moved so Rachel could rise.

Following the girl, Rachel wasn't terribly surprised when Etienne's mother fell into step. She would no doubt oversee the makeup session as diligently as the wig selection. Marguerite was definitely a take-charge kind of gal, Rachel decided as she was led into a small room in cream tones.

To be honest, Marguerite had been in charge from the moment they left Etienne's house. She had taken Rachel to her favorite clothing store first. It hadn't taken Rachel long to figure out why the designer was Marguerite's favorite. The shop owner had fawned over her as if she were royalty. The woman was also a vampire--Rachel had recognized it right away. She wasn't exactly sure how; she had just somehow been able to sense it, and supposed it was another instinct no one had bothered to mention to her. It was no doubt a handy skill to have. After all, feeding off other vampires could be quite debilitating, as she had found out.

Rachel had remained silent and agreeable as she was dressed in gown after expensive gown and paraded out for Marguerite's inspection. Etienne's mother had insisted on footing the bill for the excursion, saying that it was her pleasure. Besides, she was sure Rachel wouldn't wish to attend something as boring as a wedding were it not necessary for Etienne to go.

Rachel had tried to argue the issue until it was pointed out that she could hardly use her bank card or credit card as either would lead the police directly to her--and she hadn't yet gained control of her teeth, so being found wasn't an option just yet. Promising herself that she would repay the woman once her life was returned to normal, Rachel had acquiesced. And since the woman was paying for it all--even if only temporarily--she felt Marguerite should have the major say in what she wore.

Fortunately, the gown Etienne's mother chose was Rachel's favorite. Created of dark blue lace over a long satin underdress, it was off-the-shoulder, featuring a fitted bodice and long tight sleeves of lace. Rachel felt absolutely beautiful in it, despite the fact that the skirt was a touch long. There were shoes made of the same material. Fortunately, the heel was just high enough that the gown was no longer too long.

"Here you are." The wig girl stopped and opened a door, then held it for Rachel and Marguerite. Rachel led the way into the room. A young woman was seated at a table filled with cosmetics, obviously waiting for them. She jumped up at their entrance and rushed forward to greet them, and ushered Rachel and Marguerite to sit at the makeup table. After ensuring neither of them wished refreshments, the girl asked what they wanted, and Marguerite explained about the wedding, the color of the dress, and so on. Within moments the girl was working on Rachel's face, murmuring over the purity and healthy color of her skin.

Rachel didn't say anything in response to the girl's compliments, rather distracted as she was by gaping at her face. She had noticed that makeup wasn't as necessary anymore, but hadn't really taken a close look. Now, in the magnified mirror the girl held out, Rachel simply stared at herself. Her skin was as smooth and soft as a baby's bottom. She marveled as the girl worked on her face, answering questions rather absently and agreeing with most of the woman's suggestions.

Marguerite suggested a beauty mark be applied to aid in disguising her, and Rachel found herself suddenly sporting one above her lip on the left side. The small addition, combined with Vicki's artistry and the wig, really made a difference. By the time they were done, even Rachel thought she looked exotic. She couldn't stop looking at herself as they moved to another mirrored room where both her nails and Marguerite's were shaped and painted.

"Well, that was fun," Marguerite said as they got back into her limo.

"Yes," Rachel agreed. She felt pampered and pretty, but also a touch guilty that she hadn't paid for any of it. "Thank you."

"You are more than welcome, my dear. And please stop feeling guilty. It was my pleasure to do all this."

The woman put the whammy on her as she gave the order. The guilt Rachel had been experiencing melted away, so she knew it. However, she decided not to resent the woman's slipping into her brain, instead deciding to enjoy it. Guilt was really no fun at all.

"Here we are."

Rachel glanced out the window of the limo as it came to a halt in front of a house. A huge house. Not Etienne's.

"Where are we?" she asked in surprise.

"My home, dear," Marguerite answered. The driver got out from behind the wheel and walked around to open the door for them. "Etienne is going to meet us here to ride to the church. That way I can decide what jewelry you should wear."

"Oh." Rachel followed her out of the car. What kind of jewelry would a vampire own?

Etienne tugged at his tie, then promptly straightened it again, only to tug irritably at it once more. He hated wearing ties. He hated tuxes, too. Why had he agreed to be in this wedding party? He was more a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy, which was why he enjoyed working with computers. He didn't have to wear business clothes to work. He only had to dress up for meetings with the company that produced and distributed his games.

Etienne readjusted his tie and sighed as he paced his mother's salon. He supposed ties were better than the cravats he'd been forced to wear when younger. That fashion craze had been one huge pain. Most of the clothes in the early eighteenth century had been rather foppish, although they had shown his muscular legs to good advantage.

He grinned at that slightly egotistical thought as the tap of high-heeled footsteps in the hall made him glance toward the door. Probably his mother. Marguerite had always been quick at getting ready for such occasions. He wasn't sure if it was hundreds of years oi practice, or simply that it took very little work to make her beautiful, but she had been quick at the task for as long as he could recall.

But it wasn't his mother. It was the most incredible blonde Etienne had seen in his life. It took a moment for him to register that it was Rachel in a wig. She floated into the room, a vision in blue lace and silk.

"Your mother sent me down to tell you Lissianna's almost ready. She also said it's getting late, and you and Bastien should go pick up Greg and Lucern and get them to the church."

"That's a good idea." Bastien entered the room. Rachel turned and offered a smile to the man. He smiled back, a tinge of surprise on his face as he took her in. "You look lovely, Rachel. Just as lovely as a blonde as you are as a redhead."

"Thank you." She blushed prettily, then moved around him and left the room, leaving Etienne to stare after her. Suave devil that he was, he hadn't said a word about her appearance. That was when Etienne realized that, for all his centuries of knowledge, he was a first-class idiot.

"Nice move there, Etienne," Bastien said, grinning. "I can see the old silver tongue is working hard."

Grunting, Etienne flopped into a chair.

Bastien merely laughed harder at his disconsolate expression. Walking over, he clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on. Lucern probably has his hands full with a nervous Greg about now. We should go help him pack the groom in the car and get him to the church."

Etienne heaved himself to his feet. Following his dark-haired brother out of the room to the front door, he glanced about, hoping he might spot Rachel again and perhaps get to give her the compliment he should have--but of course she was nowhere to be seen. He'd missed his chance. And if there was one thing Etienne had learned in his three-hundred-plus years, it was that life rarely gave you second chances.

"They make a cute couple, but it isn't him she wants." Etienne stopped glaring at the dance floor where Bastien was, in his opinion, holding Rachel far too close, and turned to scowl at his cousin. Thomas had paused beside him and was watching the couple dance too. Etienne glowered at him for his trouble and turned back to watch, trying to ignore the jealousy and resentment rising within him.

The wedding had gone without a hitch. The meal was over and the reception was in full swing, yet Etienne hadn't been able to share a single word with Rachel yet. He really wanted to correct his earlier flub and tell her she looked beautiful... among other things. Unfortunately, as one of the ushers, Etienne had been forced to sit at the head table with the rest of the wedding party. Rachel had been placed at Jeanne Louise and Thomas's table. He'd felt bad about that at first, but she'd seemed to enjoy herself--at least, every time he'd looked her way Rachel had been laughing at something, so he assumed she'd had a good time. He himself had been bored to tears and impatient to rejoin her. Unfortunately, Bastien had been quicker, and had reached Rachel first. He'd immediately scooped her up and onto the dance floor--which Etienne felt was kind of a crappy thing for a brother to do.

"They're just dancing, Etienne," Thomas said. He sounded vastly amused.

He didn't appreciate Thomas poking inside his head, but then Etienne was already a bit cheesed off at his cousin. Getting to enjoy Rachel's company during the meal was one reason, but he knew his jealousy was ridiculous, so he ignored it and said, "I have a bone to pick with you, cousin."

"Uh-oh." Thomas couldn't even dim his grin. He obviously wasn't too concerned. "What have I done now?"

"Sweet Ecstasies?" he asked, scowling. "What kind of setup was that?"

"Well, it was obvious what you two needed," his cousin said unapologetically. "And it worked, didn't it?"

When Etienne remained silent, Thomas laughed and clapped him on the back. "You're welcome. I'm sure you would have managed it without the drinks eventually. You're just a little rusty, so I decided to give you a little push."

"Well, what if she hadn't wanted--"

"Not a chance, dude. I read her thoughts. Dudette was way hot for you." He shook his head. "Even I--despite being the reprobate that I am--was almost moved to blush at the thoughts she was having."

"Really?" Etienne asked.

"Oh, yeah." He grinned widely, then arched an eyebrow. "But why the flak now? You didn't say anything when I delivered the blood to your house. Is there trouble in paradise already?"

"No." Etienne glanced toward Rachel, his eyes devouring her body in its blue gown with both heat and knowledge. Then he turned to his cousin again and added, "I would have ragged you about it the day you brought the blood and we were locked out, but I wasn't really in any shape."

"No, I guess you weren't," Thomas agreed. "You were pretty drained. In more ways than one." He burst out laughing, then walked away, leaving Etienne with a scowl.

"You should cut in."

Etienne turned to find his mother, a soft smile playing about her lips. He temporarily ignored the advice and commented, "You look happy."

"I am," she agreed. "The first of my babies is married and settling down. Finally."

Etienne chuckled at the emphasis. He'd heard humans complain about their children taking forever to marry and settle down. They didn't have a clue.

"So, are you going to cut in or not?" Marguerite asked. "She wants you to."

"Does she?"

Marguerite concentrated for a moment, a smile curving her lips, then she nodded and said softly, "Oh yes, son. Rachel enjoyed dinner and is having a nice time but would definitely rather be in your arms. She'd rather dance with you. Bastien knows it too, and his ego is suffering for it. You should go save him."

Etienne let his gaze drift out to Rachel again, nodding. "Thank you." Without another word, he crossed the dance floor to the slowly moving couple.

"Brother." Bastien greeted Etienne solemnly as he reached their side, then he released Rachel, gave her a polite, courtly bow, and left the dance floor.

"Hi," Rachel said softly.

"Hi." Etienne opened his arms in invitation and released a breath when she stepped into his embrace. It was where she belonged. He could feel it. In three hundred years no other woman had felt so right. He'd made the right choice in turning Rachel. She was meant for him.

"You look absolutely breathtaking," he murmured by her ear. "I've never seen a more beautiful woman in all my days."

He caught her blush out of the corner of his eye, then she cuddled closer against him and said, "I find that hard to believe, Etienne. You've seen a lot of women."

"But none of them were as lovely to me," he assured her solemnly. "Even as a blonde."

Rachel stopped dancing and peered into his face as if doubting him. Smiling softly, she simply said, "Thank you." Then she grinned and added, "You're pretty hot yourself."

"You think so?" Etienne asked.

"Oh, yes," Rachel assured him. "You're very handsome. Sexy as hell, really. You have wicked eyes, a mischievous smile, and you're very intelligent. I've always had a weakness for intelligent men, Etienne."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "You like smart guys, huh?"

"Mmm." She nodded, amusement curving her lips. "Intelligence turns me on."

"Yeah?" Etienne raised his eyebrows and smiled mischievously. "Onomatopoeia."

Rachel blinked.

"Enkephalin."

Rachel's bewilderment grew. What was Etienne doing? Thanks to her medical background, she knew that Enkephalin was a substance similar to morphine that could be found in the brain and was thought to help control pain response. But she had no clue why he spouted it. Before she could ask, he added, "Oxymoron."

"Er... what are you doing?" she asked.

"Spouting big words to impress you with my intelligence." Grinning, he asked, "Are you turned on yet?"

Rachel was so taken aback, a loud burst of laughter slipped from her lips, drawing the attention of those around them.

Etienne smiled and nodded at the other dancers, then turned back to her. He gave a sniff and feigned a scowl. "You aren't supposed to laugh at a guy when he's trying to woo you."

"Is that what you're doing?" she asked.

"Yes. Is it working?"

Rachel chuckled and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm not sure. Maybe. Why don't you try a couple more big words?

"More, huh?" He wrapped his arms tighter around her. "Hmm... let's see. Ginormous. Dunnock."

"What's that?" Rachel lifted her head to ask. It was the first word she hadn't known.

"A hedge sparrow."

"Ah."

"Shall I continue?" he asked.

"Please don't."

Both Rachel and Etienne straightened in surprise at that dry request from Lucern. The dark-haired man was standing beside them on the dance floor, his solemn face pained. "I've been sent to inform you that Uncle Lucian wants a word with Rachel."

Aware of the way Etienne stiffened, Rachel glanced at him curiously. "You have an uncle?"

"Yes." He released a pent-up breath of resignation. "And he's a nasty old cur too."

"That he may be, but he's also the head of the clan," Lucern commented. "And he wants to talk to Rachel."

"And what he wants, he gets?" she guessed.

"I'm afraid so," Etienne said apologetically. His arm went protectively around her.

Rachel smiled reassuringly. "It will be fine, Etienne. I'm very good with people."

"Uncle Lucian isn't people," he said in grim tones. But, removing his arm, he took her by the elbow instead and led her across the dance floor. Lucern immediately fell into step on her other side.

Rachel smiled at the show of loyalty. She felt very protected as she was led to the head of their clan. Yet she was sure she didn't really need it. Rachel hadn't been kidding when she said she was good with people. She was quite confident that she could handle this nasty old cur just fine... and she continued thinking it right up until she was led to a table where a good-looking blond sat next to Etienne's mother.

It was the tense and anxious expression on Marguerite's face that finally shook Rachel's confidence. She had never seen it, and it didn't seem a good thing. Straightening her shoulders, Rachel forced a polite smile for the man she presumed was Etienne's uncle.

Lucian Argeneau was a very handsome man. He was easily the handsomest man in attendance at the wedding. With his ice-blond hair and chiseled features, he would have fulfilled anyone's image of a Greek God. But, as he surveyed her, his expression was arctic, without a hint of any of the softer human emotions. If this man had ever felt anything like caring or love, those feelings had died or been killed off ages ago. The eyes he turned on Rachel were as empty as black pits.

She met his gaze and waited for him to offer a polite greeting, but there was none forthcoming. It didn't take but a moment to understand why. The man was reading her mind. That was a polite way to phrase it. In truth, he was raking her mind, searching every thought and feeling with a ruthlessness and lack of concern for her feelings that left her breathless. She could actually feel him in there, poking about and sifting through her thoughts. And he didn't care.

"You haven't spoken to her yet." Lucian Argeneau's first words were addressed to Etienne, though he didn't take his gaze off Rachel.

"No." Etienne made the confession just as coldly.

"You didn't want to anger her," the man went on. "You've been trying to woo her to your side in the hope that she would concede to your wishes."

Rachel gave a start, her gaze shooting to Etienne only to see his expression closed. He wasn't denying the accusation, however, and she felt all her enjoyment in the evening leak out of her like air from a balloon. Had all their laughter and passion been nothing more than a means to an end?

"You're one of us now."

Rachel jerked her eyes back to Lucian. That comment was meant for her, and she acknowledged it with a grim nod. "Yes, I am."

"If you want to stay one of us, you'll do what's best for the clan," she was informed.

"Really?" Rachel asked archly. "Is this reversible, then?"

"Death is the only release."

"Is that a threat?" she asked.

"It's a statement of fact," he said simply. "You've been given a gift. If you appreciate that, you'll act accordingly."

"Or?" she queried, her eyes narrowed.

"Or you'll be treated like a threat."

"Removed?"

"If necessary." There was no shame or apology in that statement. It was a simple fact, stated the same way he might say the sun would rise in the morning. The words were all the scarier because of that.

"I see," Rachel said slowly, then asked, "And what is it I'm to do?"

Marguerite suddenly put a hand on Lucian's arm, and though Rachel couldn't hear it, she knew that a silent conversation took place. Whatever Etienne's mother said must have been persuasive. Lucian Argeneau nodded once, then announced, "Etienne will tell you. And if you know what's good for you, you'll listen."

"There you are!"

Rachel gave a start when that cheerful cry intruded. It was followed by the arrival of a slender blonde who appeared at Lucian Argeneau's side and began to pet his shoulder and arm as if he were a cat. Rachel couldn't help noticing that while the woman was petting Lucian, she was the one purring.

"Lissianna," the blonde said, "you really should have told us what handsome men you have in your family. Your brothers are beautiful, and your cousin is absolutely scrumptious."

Rachel was surprised to hear Lucian Argeneau referred to as a cousin until she remembered that all the older relatives had been relegated to such connections to hide their ages from Greg's side of the family. There would have been too many questions had Marguerite been introduced as mother and Lucian as uncle. As far as the Hewitt clan was concerned, the Argeneaus were made up of the younger generation with absolutely no surviving older relatives.

Rachel wasn't terribly surprised that several of the single women in Greg's family were fawning over the Argeneau men in a way that was almost painfully embarrassing to witness.

"I grew up surrounded by them, Deeanna. I hardly notice their looks anymore. I only notice them now when they act like coldhearted bastards."

Rachel glanced over her shoulder to see Lissianna and her new husband, as well as Bastien, had joined their small party and were all standing behind her. She hadn't heard them approach. Cold fury filled the bride's face. Lissianna wasn't happy with her uncle, and she had no problem showing it.

"Come," Etienne murmured, taking advantage of the distraction. He pulled Rachel away.

She followed in silence, her mind whirring. Etienne was wooing her to try to get her to do something. The thought kept flowing through her mind as he escorted her out of the reception hall. If there was one thing Rachel hated most in this world, it was being used.

She got into the car when Etienne unlocked the door. She did up her seat belt as he walked around the vehicle to get in, then sat in stony silence as he started the engine and began to drive.

They were headed to his house, of course, to discuss whatever it was he wanted her to do. Rachel knew this. She also knew that the conversation they would have upon reaching his home was going to be unpleasant, no doubt terribly painful. While she wasn't looking forward to it, Lucian Argeneau had made sure there was now no way to avoid it. That being the case, all Rachel could hope for was that she might escape the conversation with at least her pride. She doubted very much if her heart would survive.

Etienne cursed his uncle silently all the way home. The man had always been a hardass. The rest of the family had often questioned whether he even possessed a heart, but tonight had taken the cake. If Etienne stood any chance at all with Rachel anymore, he would be very surprised. Lucian had just made his life incredibly complicated.

Unfortunately, it was all his own fault, and Etienne knew it. If he had just broached the subject of Pudge with Rachel before the wedding, as he should have done, this wouldn't be a problem. But he hadn't and, now he not only had to try to convince her that claiming Pudge had kidnapped her was the smartest move, but he had to get past her anger to do it. And Rachel had a lot of anger at the moment. A lot. Tons. While he couldn't normally read her thoughts, high levels of passion apparently opened her to him like a book--and apparently not just sexual passion. Right at that moment, she was broadcasting her anger like an FM radio at top volume.

Etienne parked in his driveway and shut off the engine, then sat still for a moment while Rachel undid her seat belt. When he made no move to get out, she paused and waited with what might have seemed patience--if he weren't being blasted by her thoughts.

"I didn't sleep with you to convince you to do what we wanted," he said finally, since that seemed to be the fear she broadcasted most strongly.

"Then why did you sleep with me?"

He wasn't fooled by her calm tone. She didn't believe him and was still furious. Etienne was silent as he sought an answer to her question. Why had he slept with her? That had to be one of the stupidest questions a woman could ask. Or perhaps it wasn't with a normal man. One of them might have answered, Because you were willing, or simply, why not? But Etienne had long outgrown the stage where he would sleep with anything that moved. Sadly, sex had turned out like food over the ages--thrilling and exciting at first with its variety, but then more of a bother than anything. Or so he had thought until Rachel. Then his appetite had been revived and he had wondered, what bother?

Just the memory of the heated moments between them was enough to arouse him. Hell, he was sporting wood now at just the thought. But how did he explain all that in a way she would believe? He glanced down at his lap, then to Rachel, and inspiration struck. Reaching out, Etienne caught her hand, drew it across the car, and placed it firmly over his suit pants. "Because you do this to me."

Rachel snatched her hand away as if she'd been burned and scrambled out of the car.

"Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best argument," Etienne muttered. The car door slammed. Obviously, for all his three-hundred-plus years, he hadn't yet lived long enough to understand women.

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