Patrick stood from the chair he had been sitting in for the better part of the morning and came around his desk. The scent of blood drew him to the far end of the bookshelves.

Pushing aside five books with identical red bindings, Patrick pressed on the bottom corner of the wood background and moved his hand as it swung free. The decanter of blood and crystal glasses stood inside the secret cupboard.

Pouring himself a glass, he put the books back in their places and crossed over to the high windows. Outside several fashionable ladies walked passed the gate of his town house, their hands flittering in the air as they discussed some matter of hilarity.

Violet's hands never flittered. They were always calm and graceful. He had only seen two incidents where those hands moved with speed; when she was playing her violin and when she was caressing him.

Why was he unsatisfied? He should be feeling relieved, after all Violet was coming to him tonight and his solicitor was already searching for rooms in a nearby area that would be appropriate for her. So, why had the urgency not left him?

Patrick acknowledged the reason with some frustration: he didn't know why she had agreed. He had told himself to be glad Violet had finally accepted the arrangement he proposed and damn the reasons. But he couldn't ignore the fact that he just didn't know what had changed her mind. The sudden capitulation...it just didn't fit with anything he knew about her.  

Violet was independent and stubborn and courageous and well, she never did what she was told. But last night, just like that, she had agreed...

"My Lord?"

Patrick turned from the window and towards the door which was the slightest bit ajar. Mrs. Devon knew never to enter his study without permission.

"Yes Mrs. Devon?"

"There are three ladies to see you my lord. Shall I tell them you are not in and send them away?"

The corner of his mouth lifted at Mrs. Devon's stress on the word ladies. Obviously his house keeper did not approve of these women. His housekeeper didn't seem to approve of any female.

Patrick knew of only one group of three women who would come calling without an invitation. "That's alright Mrs. Devon. Show them in."

"As you wish my lord." The elder woman sounded less than happy as her footsteps receded towards the front door.

Patrick downed the rest of the contents of his glass and set it on top of the table before going around and sitting behind his desk.

It took only a moment for the study door to open once more. The three Vampires that stepped inside were dressed in gowns so low cut, their breasts were at risk of spilling over. Mrs. Devon must have been shocked at the sight since even he was less than impressed by the display. Rowena and her two hangers on were hungry for attention as always.

"Leader," Rowena stepped forward, her head bowed in deference.

Patrick leaned back, his hands folded in front of him as he regarded her. Her pale blond hair hung loose over one slender shoulder, her eyelashes lowered demurely. Patrick knew from experience that there was nothing demure about the woman in front of him. She was determined, aggressive and sometimes even violent in her sexual appetites.

The silence in the room continued as his eyes took in Rowena's red dress and then surveyed her friends. Both as blond as Rowena, their pale cheeks were tinged with rouge.

"How can I help you ladies?" Patrick said at long last, his acknowledgment of their presence giving them permission to speak.

Rowena stepped forward, her blue eyes shining as she gave him a feigned look of regret. He remembered that look well. It was what had put him off the brief affair they had enjoyed upon his arrival in London.

"We heard that Elisabeth was no longer in your favour and wanted to come by Leader, to make sure you were alright."

Patrick watched Rowena with amusement. Ordinarily he would have accepted what the three of them were offering and enjoyed it, but he found himself surprisingly unaffected.

"I am fine, thank you for your concern," Patrick put enough meaning into his words to let Rowena know he was rejecting her unspoken offer. "I am busy ladies, so if there is nothing else?" 

Rowena's friends looked disappointed, but determination was the only emotion he read in in the ringleader's eyes.

"Leader," she stepped forward until she was leaning over his desk. The sight of her rosy nipples peaking over the scant material covering her chest was designed to ignite his lust. For the first time during the encounter Patrick felt uncomfortable. Rowena's personality was lacking, but her body was gorgeous, why was he not reacting?

"We are always at your service," Rowena whispered enticingly.

Patrick mustered an appreciative smile. "I will keep that in mind Rowena. Now ladies, I wish you a pleasant day."

Rowena's eyes glinted with anger, but she controlled it quickly and bowed. Patrick stood as the women left with pouts on their red tinted lips.

Now what? He thought somewhat moodily after the study door clicked shut. The Ottoman Vampires that were supposed to arrive this afternoon had been delayed by a storm in the channel. Ismail had written him a note earlier to that effect and said the two women would likely arrive the next day.

Ismail was sure to be disappointed, but the delay left Patrick's schedule open after a visit to the blood warehouse to check supplies. He crossed to the door. He was not sure if Violet would be performing this evening. He had made it clear that she wouldn't have to work anymore, but something told him the Lady Violin would be gracing the circus stage despite that.

The urge to watch her was strong.

Grabbing his coat off the rack by the door, Patrick walked into the cold London afternoon and signalled his waiting driver to bring the carriage.

When the vehicle drew up to the Circus several hours later, the sky was a dark shade of blue and the North Star was peeking through high clouds. Patrick crossed quickly towards the brightly lit canvas in the centre of the green. Heat radiated from the cream coloured structure, hinting at the crowd that he found when he entered a moment later. 

Every seat in the spacious tent was full and many stood along the outer edges of the seats for the chance to see the show. Patrick's eyes roamed over the well dressed front rows and focused on the object of his desire.

She was dressed as he had seen her only once before, in all white. The peasant blouse came down to just below her naval stopping short from touching the gypsy skirt that sat snuggly on her hips.

Her eyes were closed as she swayed with the sad music she made. Then suddenly, those green eyes opened and Violet was looking straight at him. It didn't matter that she couldn't actually see him. Patrick knew without a doubt that Violet was aware of his presence.

Suddenly, a man walked onto the stage drawing Patrick's gaze away from Violet. He was tall and muscular with sharp blue eyes that peered out of dark skin. Patrick watched the man with growing annoyance as he drew closer to Violet, a violin in hand.  

A musician, Patrick concluded and a gypsy by the looks of it. The man lifted his violin when he was only a few feet from Violet and played. He was good, Patrick acknowledged grudgingly, though nowhere near as magical as Violet.

The two of them played for a few moments, Violet leading, the man following without qualm and then suddenly a sharp note from Violet's violin pierced the air and both instruments went quiet.

Patrick found himself holding his breath alongside the rest of the audience. The energy coming from the pair on stage was palpable even to the most insensitive watchers.

"Romano Kheliben!"

Patrick recognised the loud proclamation that came from Violet's lips as ancient Romany. He was familiar with the tongue, had heard the language spoken by traveling bands of gypsies in the Scottish highlands. He shouldn't be surprised that Violet spoke Romany, she had told him once before that she was gypsy, but he was surprised nevertheless. It was the way she spoke English...she did not speak like a gypsy. She spoke like a woman who had had tutelage under a governess, and yet that couldn't be.

It annoyed Patrick that there was so much he didn't know about her. He wanted to know her inside out.

The large gypsy male answered the call by raising his violin and beginning a slow melody. The notes melded in the way of gypsy music, tugging at the listener's stomach, raising the pulse bit by bit. 

Violet lay down her instrument and grabbed fistfuls of her skirt. Patrick moved forward on the isle that led to the stage.She was swaying, her feet moving to the pace of the music, her skirts brushing just under her knees as she moved. 

The music grew faster. Violet raised one hand.

Patrick sucked in his breath as her blouse inched up, revealing a small expanse of her flat stomach. She spun and dipped and he felt himself grow hard.

Damn it, what the hell was she doing?

Black hair streamed in a circle as the pace of the music grew ever more urgent. The unmistakable scent of desire filled the tent and Patrick knew that not a single man watching Violet was left unaffected.

Jealousy grew along with desire as Violet let go of her skirt. Both hands in the air, her golden bangles moved with abandon along her swinging arms. The excitement in the air grew as the dancer finally acknowledged the musician. She danced up to the man and then away before spinning circles around him.

Patrick's anger boiled when Violet threw herself at the mans' feet in a flurry of skirts and the gypsy played the final note.

The applause was deafening, the audience jumping to their feet with energy humming through their veins. Patrick did not clap. He watched as the man on stage helped Violet to her feet and scowled.

If that bastard ever touched Violet again, Patrick was going to have to hurt him, bad. The first and most important law of the Vampire Clans rang in his head, no human is to be harmed. Patrick growled in frustration.