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The purple hue of twilight filled the heavens as stars climbed higher in the sky, while Jane Van
Hesling trudged through the inky blackness towards her dismal duty. The wind whipped through
the trees and blew several dead leaves westward where they caught, crackling in the tall wrought
iron fence to Jane's right.

"My father is having partridge pie with lemon tarts tonight and I'm having to stake for dinner, " Jane
grumbled with hearty discontent..."How I hate the smell of burning vampires in the night or the
metallic smell of spilt blood," Jane muttered, recalling to mind the Earl's attractive countenance last
night at the masquerade ball before it got all blurred...

Scared, Jane realized that her waist length braid was caught in some of the branches of the oak.
"Horsefeathers! Will nothing go right this night?" She murmured as she yanked at her braid, finally
managing to free it.

Approaching the massive oak, Neil Asher, Earl of Wolverton, was in innocent bliss of his impending
doom by the diabolical threat of a Van Helsing. Heat surged into Asher's groin, h im mind ignoring
the slight sounds of the night as he focused on reaching his paramour. Once there, he would coax
her into kissing him all over, making his battered heart better. His mind involved with racy delights,
he dismissed the noisy thump behind him, never looking back to seee a short, spread-eagled figure
leaping from a tree; skirts flying with her eyes closed and clutching a Van Helsing Model II stake,
hit the ground with a loud bump. (page 85)

"Shall I kiss you now?" Asher asked passionatley.
Before Jane could answer, she felt something crawling up the back of her neck.
Tiny little feet.
Spider feet.
She shoved at Asher and began swiping at her neck as she jumped up and down. "Oh, it's on me!
It's on me!" She howled as if the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.
"Get off! Get off!"
"What the bloody hell are you doing? He had heard of nervous virgins before, but this was
ridiculous. He stepped back a cautious distance.
She continued to jump up and down like a demented woman as she howled, "It's a spider on me!"
Taking one last mad swipe, she sighed with relief. "It's gone."
Rubbing her neck, she shuddered. "I have a slight aversion to them."
"Slight?" Asher asked feeling dumbstruck. His second impression of her was right. The woman was
touched in the head. (page 162)