When she hadn't been able to figure it out by listening to him speak, she had tried to place his ethnic origins by examining his features—but that hadn't really helped, either. His dark good looks could have been almost Mediterranean, but his pale skin tone didn't bear that out. As for his name: Bastien Argeneau was definitely French. Kate had mentioned that the family was from Canada, but they resided in Toronto, which Terri knew was in Ontario. Still, she supposed the family could be French Canadian. And perhaps what she thought was a hint of an English accent was simply Canadian. She'd met a couple of Canadians in her life, but hadn't really paid much attention to their accents.
Finally admitting that she couldn't figure out his accent, Terri had determined to ask Kate later, and had given up the matter to concentrate on their conversation. For the most part, they'd touched on topics that were relatively neutral, like the weather and the wedding: safe topics that revealed nothing personal, and that Terri knew were geared to make her feel comfortable and at ease with this relative stranger with whom she would be staying. He took pains several times to reassure her that she was welcome in his home, following that up with assurances that he was terribly busy, not likely to be around much and so wouldn't make a nuisance of himself.
Terri had felt pretty relaxed about the whole deal by the time they pulled into the underground parking garage of the Argeneau building. They had still been chatting lightly and laughing as they gathered her luggage. Lucern had even put away his scribbling and joined the conversation as he took her carry-on again and followed Bastien into the secured elevator to the penthouse. They'd all been smiling at Bastien's gentle teasing of his brother for being "blinded by love," when the elevator doors slid open and he'd started to lead the way into his home. Then he'd stopped dead so that Terri had bumped into his back, whirled around with a panicked expression and shouted "Get out!"
So much for being welcome in his home. "Bastien?" There was a question in Lucern's voice as he set down Terri's case and moved past her. "What…"
The way his voice trailed off as he looked into the room beyond—a room Terri couldn't see into, because Bastien's broad shoulders blocked the way—told her there was something of great interest inside. "Vincent!" Lucern barked. "Let Bastien's housekeeper go!"
Well, that was too much for Terri. Stepping around Bastien, she peered into the living room and at the couple there. At first glance, it appeared that they had interrupted a passionate embrace, but that was only for the first second. Then Terri noted that the man—Vincent, she presumed—was wearing a black cape. And what she saw wasn't so much an amorous act but the classic vampire embrace. It looked like the fellow was biting the old woman's neck.
Terri felt her eyebrows fly up, even as hands settled heavily on her shoulders. They were Bastien's hands, she guessed, since Lucern was in front of her, but she hardly noticed before Lucern was barking again. "Damn it, Vinny! Let go of that woman."
"You know I hate being called Vinny, Luc. Call me Vincent. Or better yet, call me Dracul," the caped fellow corrected in a very bad Transylvanian accent. He straightened from the older woman and turned to them. His eyes held irritation for a moment, then his gaze landed on Terri. His expression gave way to a seductive smile.
Leaving the maid swaying on her feet, Vincent glided across the room to stand before Terri. His smile was a sexy curve of the mouth, his irises were silver blue and held a hungry look that captured her attention. He enveloped one of her small hands in his, and raised it to his lips. "Enchante," he growled.
Terri opened her mouth to respond, but paused in surprise when the man turned her hand over and pressed his lips to her wrist.
"Stop that!" Bastien stepped to the side, tugging Terri away from the man with a hand on her elbow even as he used the other to slap Vincent in the back of the head. If the fact that all three men sported those unique silver-blue eyes and dark good looks hadn't told her, that gesture—one only an irritated relative would use—told Terri this man was obviously an Argeneau. "What the hell are you doing here, Vincent?"
"Dracul," he insisted with a sniff, then turned and walked to the nearest chair. Grasping his cape, he held it out slightly so that it swirled around him as he turned. Then he dropped dramatically to sit. "I have the lead role in Dracula. The musical."
"Dracula the musical?" Bastien echoed in disbelief. Vincent grinned. "Yeah. Cool, huh? The lead." He nodded. "I'm a stage presence."
"Dear God," Terri heard Bastien breathe. He seemed horrified by the whole ordeal, but she was fascinated. She volunteered a lot of time to the local community theater, and she loved this kind of stuff. Pulling away from her host's light hold, she moved to the couch and perched on the end of it to ask, "Are you a method actor?"