Be Still My Vampire Heart(37)

 

"Merde." He lowered the dagger. "You should warn me when you're coming."

 

The door burst open and Robby MacKay dashed in, his claymore drawn. "Och, tis you."

 

He hit a button by the door to turn off the alarm.

 

"Bonsoir, mademoiselle." Jean-Luc's gaze shifted to Emma. He looked her over curiously.

 

Angus kept an arm wrapped around her and gave his old friend a warning glare.

 

Jean-Luc responded with a slow smile. "Bravo, mon ami."

 

"Jean-Luc, Robby, this is Emma Wallace," Angus announced, keeping her close to his side. "Emma, this is Jean-Luc Echarpe."

 

"The famous fashion designer?" Her eyes widened. "Then we are in Paris?"

 

"Aye." Angus motioned toward the kilted Scotsman. "This is Robby, who works for me and guards Jean-Luc. He's something like a grandson."

 

"We forget how many greats should be in front." Robby bowed. "A pleasure to meet you, miss." He gave Angus a questioning look.

 

No doubt, they were wondering why he was teleporting about with a mortal woman. He was usually all business. "I… thought I'd take Miss Wallace on a picnic. Could ye find us a basket of food, Robby?"

 

Robby's mouth dropped open. "You? On a picnic?"

 

Jean-Luc chuckled. "Ask Alberto. He'll know what to do."

 

"Verra well." Robby left the room with a stunned expression.

 

Angus winced inwardly. They acted like he'd never courted a woman before. Well, it had been a century or two. And it wasn't like he was courting Emma for romantic purposes. He merely wanted to gain her friendship and trust so they could work together against their common foe.

 

Then why did he still have his arm around her, claiming possession? He released her.

 

"Miss Wallace needs… something to wear."

 

"Indeed?" Jean-Luc's eyes twinkled with mirth. "I hadn't noticed."

 

Emma glared at Angus and whispered, "I knew this would be embarrassing."

 

"Come." Jean-Luc led the way from his office. "The storeroom is downstairs. I'm sure we can find something suitable for a… picnic." He glanced back at Angus with a grin. He was going to get teased about this for a hundred years, Angus realized. Showing up in the wee hours of the morning with a barefoot, half-naked mortal woman.

 

Jean-Luc showed them the official showroom where a handful of his latest creations were on display. Then he took them to a large room where rack after rack of clothes were stored.

 

"Oh my God," Emma whispered as she studied a price tag. "I can't afford this."

 

"Doona worry. I can."

 

Her eyes widened. "I can't accept a gift from you. It's against regulations."

 

Jean-Luc snorted. "Come, you two. That is no way to start a night of romance."

 

"This isn't a date," Emma insisted.

 

The Frenchman smiled. "How about this—I will loan you anything you want for the night, and Angus can return it later." He slanted Angus a teasing look. "As long as it is not torn."

 

Angus scoffed. "I'm no' going to tear her clothes."

 

"A pity," Jean-Luc muttered, then motioned to the racks. "Help yourself, mademoiselle."

 

"That's very kind of you." Emma wandered off.

 

Jean-Luc drew closer to Angus. "You old dog. I never knew you had such good taste."

 

Angus folded his arms across his chest. "This is business."

 

Jean-Luc snorted. "I wasn't born yesterday."

 

"I mean it. I'm gaining her confidence so she'll stop slaying."

 

Jean-Luc's mouth dropped open. "She's slaying vampires?"

 

Angus nodded. "Doona be fooled by her sweet face and beautiful body. She's a fierce and clever warrior."

 

Jean-Luc regarded Angus in silence.

 

Angus arched a brow. "What?"

 

Jean-Luc shrugged. "Nothing." He turned away, then muttered, "First Roman, and now you."

 

"There is nothing happening between us."

 

"Right." Jean-Luc patted him on the back. "I wish you two the best."

 

Angus snorted and walked away. Jean-Luc was making too much of this. He located Emma three racks down. She was studying some black dress pants.

 

Pants? Why did she always cover up her lovely legs? Something in a golden-amber color caught his attention and he grabbed it off the rack. "I like this. It reminds me of your eyes."

 

She gave it a dubious look. "It's a dress. A gorgeous dress, but I don't wear dresses."

 

"Sweetheart, this is no' a karate tournament ye're going to. 'Tis a picnic."