On the other hand, she had noticed his pallor on the porch before he'd ever hit his head. Or had that been the lighting? It had been nighttime, and the light on the porch had been one of those neon jobbies. That might have simply made him appear pale.
She mulled over the matter briefly, started to slip her feet off the bed to go check on him before she went to sleep, but then she paused at the sound of a closing door. Stiffening, Kate listened to the soft pad of feet down the hall, then forced herself to relax and lie back down. The footsteps had been soft, but otherwise normal. Lucern didn't sound to be staggering or unduly slow. He was fine. She would stick to her plan to check him in an hour.
Relaxing, she lay back and closed her eyes. She wasn't going to get much sleep tonight and knew it. In truth, she'd really rather be in a hotel somewhere sleeping soundly. And she would be—head wound or no head wound—if she weren't so afraid that once he got her out of the house, Lucern Argeneau wasn't likely to let her back in. Kate couldn't risk that; she just had to convince him to do one of the publicity appearances. Any one of them would do. She very much feared that keeping her new position as editor depended on it.
"You're kidding? She really thought all that blood was from a little bump on the head?" Etienne gave a disbelieving laugh.
"Well, she would hardly imagine it came from a bag of blood in his fridge," Bastien pointed out, but he was chuckling too.
Lucern ignored his brothers' amusement and sank his teeth into the second bag of blood Rachel brought him. He'd already ingested the first. He had insisted on doing so before explaining why he'd shown up at Etienne's home pleading to be fed. The first bag had allowed him to get over his surprise that Bastien was there. It had also given his brothers time to explain that Bastien had come by to help sort out some last-minute problems with the wedding. Which explained nicely why Lucern hadn't been able to reach him.
"What I don't understand," Bastien said as Lucern finished off the second bag and retracted his teeth, "is why you didn't simply get into her head and suggest she leave."
"I tried," Lucern admitted wearily. He placed both empty bags in the hand Rachel held out, then watched her walk out of the room to dispose of them. "But I could not get into her mind."
The silence that followed was as effective as great gusty gasps would have been from anyone else. Etienne and Bastien stared at him, stunned.
"You're kidding," Bastien said at last.
When Lucern shook his head, Etienne dropped onto the chair across from him and said, "Well, don't tell Mother if you don't want her pushing you two together. The minute she heard that I couldn't read Rachel's mind was the minute she decided we'd make a good couple." He paused thoughtfully. "Of course, she was right."
Lucern grunted in digust. "Well, Ms. Kate C. Leever is not perfect for me. The woman is as annoying as a gnat flying about your head. Stubborn as a mule, and pushy as hell. The damned woman has not given me a moment's peace since pushing her way over my doorstep."
"Not true," Bastien argued with amusement. "You managed to give her the slip long enough to come here."
"That is only because she was tired and went to bed. She…" He paused suddenly and sat up straight, recalling her promise to check on him every hour to be sure his head injury hadn't done more damage than he believed. Would she really do that? He glanced sharply at his brothers. "How long have I been here?"
Bastien's eyebrows rose curiously, but he glanced at his watch and said: "I'm not positive, but I'd guess you've been here about forty, forty-five minutes."
"Damn." Lucern was on his feet at once and heading for the door. "I have to go. My thanks for the drinks, Rachel," he called loudly at the other room.
"Wait. What… ?"
Bastien and Etienne got up to follow, questions slipping from their lips, but Lucern didn't stop to answer. He'd locked his office door before leaving the house, and Kate might assume that meant he was in there, but if she really did check on him hourly and got no answer when she knocked on the door, the damned woman might decide he'd died or something and call the police or an ambulance. She might even break down his office door herself. There was just no telling what that woman might do.
He came up with a couple of doozies as he hurried home.
Fortunately, she hadn't done any of them by the time he returned. She was up and trying to rouse him, though—that much was obvious the moment he opened the front door. He could hear her shouting and banging on his office door all the way downstairs. Rolling his eyes at the racket she was making and the panic in her voice as she called his name, Lucern pocketed his house keys and jogged upstairs. He came to an abrupt halt at the top of the steps.