Chapter Fifteen
Bryony smiled as she fed Daisy a bright red apple.
The mare was her only link to home. She had stopped asking Stefan when he was going to take her back.
The last time she’d asked, he had said ‘a few days’ but that had been weeks ago.
In a way, she was reluctant to leave him.
He treated her well and granted her every wish.
Plus, he needed her, though that was hard to believe.
He was strong and self-assured to the point of arrogance.
A law unto himself. In spite of everything, she cared for him a great deal, might even be falling in love with him.
It would certainly be easy to do. There was no doubt that she craved his touch and yearned for his kisses.
She loved the sound of his voice, the husky way he said her name.
When she was in his arms, there was nowhere else she would rather be.
In his embrace, she felt cherished, desired. Needed.
If only he would tell her what he was hiding.
Why did he never share a meal with her? She found it hard to believe he had some rare skin disease that kept him out of the sun.
But what other reason could there be? He lived in a big, beautiful house that rivaled her father’s, yet he didn’t seem to have any visible means of support.
The servants respected him, but none of them appeared to know very much about him.
And then there was the fact that he was a witch, a fact that didn’t bother her as much as it should have.
She found it fascinating that he could light a fire with a thought and transport the two of them from one place to another in mere moments.
It amazed her that he could walk in the rain without getting wet.
And read her mind. That was one thing she did find troubling.
Another thing she found curious was that he didn’t sleep in the house.
Where was his bed? Where did he bathe? Where did he keep his clothes?
Sighing, she scratched Daisy’s ears. Dinner would be ready soon. Maybe Stefan would take her riding again tonight. With that thought in mind, she closed the door on her questions and hurried back to the house.
As usual, Stefan arrived shortly after sunset. He joined her at the table while she ate, accepted a crystal goblet of red wine from one of the maids.
“How was your day?” he asked, his nose wrinkling at the scent of brisket and potatoes.
Bryony shrugged. “The same as usual. How was yours?”
“The same as usual,” he said, with a smile. “Is there anything you would like to do this evening?”
“Yes,” she said eagerly. “Could we go riding again?”
“Have you come to love the night?” he asked.
“Not really. But it’s the only time we can ride together.”
Her words touched him deeply. She did care for him, he thought, else she would ride during the day with one of the grooms. “I will go tell James to ready the horses while you finish your supper and change your clothes.”
Her smile was warmer than the sun. “I am finished!” she exclaimed. Pushing her plate away, she stood and kissed him on the cheek before running up the stairs to her bedchamber.
Stefan lifted his hand to his cheek. He felt the warmth of her touch in every fiber of his being.
How could he ever let her go?
It was full dark when they rode out of the yard.
The sky was midnight blue, the moon and stars so bright, it seemed earlier than it was.
They rode side-by-side, close enough that Stefan could reach out and touch her arm, which he did from time to time.
Her scent was all around him—the fragrance of her hair, her soap, her perfume, and her own unique womanly scent that was like no other.
The beating of her heart was like the sweetest symphony.
The bouquet of her blood, warmed by her excitement, tempted him like the finest wine.
He felt her gaze on his face. What was she thinking? The need to know would not be denied. He smiled inwardly as his mind brushed hers. She was wondering if he would kiss her before the night was over. Oh, yes, he mused. There was no doubt of that.
Bryony couldn’t stop stealing glances at Stefan. He sat the horse like a knight of old, his profile clean and sharp in the moonlight. Just looking at him took her breath away. He was so very handsome, so very…male. Everything female within her responded to his nearness.
A short time later, Stefan drew the grey to a halt and she drew rein beside him. He dismounted, then put his hands at her waist and lifted her from the saddle, her body sliding intimately against his as he lowered her feet to the ground.
She stared up at him, waiting, hoping, her eyelids fluttering down as his lips brushed hers. He groaned her name as he kissed her again and yet again.
She clung to him, lost in the wonder of his kisses.
Once, she opened her eyes, surprised to find they were lying on the grass locked in each other’s arms. She didn’t remember moving.
He rained feather-light kisses over her face, her throat, pressed his lips to her breast. Heat shot through her like summer lightning as his hot breath penetrated her clothing.
“Bryony, Bryony.” He murmured her name as he gazed deep into her eyes.
There was no need to ask what he wanted. She read the desire in his eyes, felt the heat of his arousal. It frightened her even as it cooled her passion.
A muscle throbbed in his jaw. Sitting up, he turned his back to her. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice little more than a growl. The way she came alive in his arms sometimes made him forget she was a maiden.
Biting down on her lip, Bryony placed her hand on his back. She sought for something to say but words failed her. Was he angry? Or just disappointed? She didn’t like the tension that stretched like an invisible gulf between them, leaving her no way to cross it.
“Just give me a minute,” he said, his voice gruff.
Her hand slid tentatively down his back and fell away.
Damn! He was about to rise when he felt her hand on his back again.
“Stefan, please don’t be angry with me.”
He blew out a breath, and counted to ten before he turned to face her.
“I am not angry.” He swore softly when he saw the tears glistening like raindrops in her eyes.
“Ah, Bryony,” he murmured. “You are so young.” He took her in his arms again, meaning only to hold her, to comfort her.
She came to him willingly, lifting her face for his kiss, and he was lost. He crushed her close, his mouth ravaging hers, his hands moving over her, molding her body to his.
Her blood sang to him. He ran his tongue along the length of her neck, felt his fangs lengthen, and lacked the will to resist.
Holding her close, he bit her as gently as he could, his whole body responding to the sweet warmth of her blood as it spread through him.
Bryony’s eyes flew open as she felt his teeth at her throat. With a wild cry, she twisted out of his grasp and sprang to her feet. For a stretched moment of eternity she stared at him, her eyes wide with horror and disbelief. His eyes glowed red. Her blood was on his lips.
With a wordless cry, she grabbed the reins, vaulted onto Daisy’s back, and jammed her heels into the mare’s side.
The horse took off at a gallop. Bryony held tight to the reins, one hand tangled in Daisy’s mane as they flew through the night.
She had no idea how to find her way back to the house, but she didn’t care.
All she knew was that there was a red-eyed monster behind her and she had to get away before he devoured her.
Stefan muttered an oath as he watched her race away.
He was tempted to ride after her, but he was the last thing she wanted to see right now.
Still, he couldn’t let her ride into the night alone.
He gave the grey a slap on the rump, knowing the horse would go home.
And then he followed Bryony’s scent through the darkness.
With his preternatural speed, it took only moments to catch up with her.
Once out of his sight, she had apparently stopped her headlong flight.
Daisy was now at a walk. Bryony leaned over the mare’s neck, sobbing.
A quick look into her mind told him she was trying to convince herself that she hadn’t seen what she’d seen.
But the blood on her fingers when she touched her neck pretty much verified what had happened.
And she was terrified, which came as no surprise.
He faded into the shadows when she reined Daisy to a halt.
Leaning forward, Bryony stroked the mare’s neck.
“I think we’re lost,” she said in a voice that quivered.
“What should we do now?” She glanced around, hoping to find a landmark she recognized, but it was dark and nothing looked familiar.
Had Stefan followed her? She glanced around, seeking a place to hide.
What if he found her and bit her again? Was he watching her, even now, just waiting to pounce?
Oh, Lord, she had never been so afraid in her life.
Dismounting, she sat on a deadfall, the reins held tight in her fist. “Maybe we’ll just stay here until the sun comes up.”
Guilt tore at Stefan’s insides as she began to cry softly, each tear like a knife in his heart. His insatiable hunger had done this to her.
After a while, Bryony tied the mare’s reins around her wrist, then stretched out on the barren ground and closed her eyes, praying that she would survive the night.
He waited until she was asleep before he moved forward.
He spoke to her mind, assuring that she would sleep until morning before he lifted her onto Daisy’s back.
Holding Bryony in place, he swung up behind her, his arm secure around her waist as he took hold of the mare’s reins and transported them home.
He left the mare in the barn, then transported himself and Bryony to her bedchamber. She stirred in his arms, but a thought sent her back to sleep.
Bryony bolted upright in bed, a cry trapped in her throat as she fought her way out of a nightmare. A horrible nightmare where Stefan had fangs and glowing red eyes. Her hand flew to her throat. He had bitten her with those fangs. Bitten her and drank her blood. She had to get out of here!
She pressed her hand to her heart as she glanced around.
How had she gotten back here? The last thing she remembered was riding wildly through the night, frantic to get away from Stefan…
and then she had stopped to rest… She must have fallen asleep.
Someone had obviously found her and brought her here.
She greatly feared that that someone had been Stefan.
Daisy. Where was Daisy? Had Stefan left her behind?
She took several slow, deep breaths. She was probably safe for now, since he never appeared until near or after dark. Rising, she dressed and went downstairs.
“Miss Bryony,” exclaimed Mrs. Mulgrew, obviously flustered. “I had no idea you were awake. I’ll have Cook prepare your breakfast right away.”
Bryony shook her head. “I’m not very hungry this morning. Just tea and toast, please.”
Moving into the dining room, Bryony sat at the table, her thoughts churning.
Maybe she could ask James or Hawkins to take her home.
Assuming they knew where her father lived.
River North was a small town on the coast. Not many people had even heard of it.
She had never been more than a few miles from there, until now.
Constance arrived a few minutes later with her breakfast. Once she started eating, Bryony discovered she was hungrier than she’d thought. When the maid came to clear her dishes, Bryony asked for eggs, ham, fruit, and more toast. And hot cocoa.
Bryony shook her head when the maid left the room. Why was she so hungry?
After breakfast, her worry for Daisy drove her out to the barn yard. She knew a moment of relief when she saw the mare in the corral. She stopped in mid-stride when she spied Hawkins repairing a harness. Maybe he could help her get home. He stood as she approached.
“Hawkins, do you know how to get to River North?”
Frowning, he scratched his head. “No, Miss, I’m sorry. Never heard of the place.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I was born here, at the manor. I’ve never been anywhere else.”
“Do you think James would know?”
Hawkins shrugged. “Perhaps, Miss. Most of the help was born here. Lord Stefan would know,” he said, smiling. “You should ask him.”
Bryony nodded. “Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you.”
Shoulders slumped, she turned and walked toward the corral. After last night, she dismissed the thought of riding off on her own. She had no idea which way to go, no inkling of how far away her home might be, or what obstacles or dangers she might encounter along the way.
Daisy trotted up to her when she neared the corral. “Hey, girl. How did you find your way back here?” Had she ridden Daisy home without knowing it? She patted the mare’s neck for a time, promising to return later with an apple.
Back at the house, she went into her sewing room, grabbed a canvas and placed it on the easel.
She put on the smock Stefan had bought her, mixed her colors, then stood there a moment, undecided on what to paint.
Nothing came to mind and then, abruptly, she began to sketch, her brush strokes quick and sure, as if her hand had a mind of its own.
Hours later, she stood back and stared at the canvas. Stefan stared back at her, his dark hair ruffed by the wind, his eyes blazing red, his lips peeled back, revealing sharp white fangs stained with blood.
He wasn’t a witch or a warlock or a magician, she thought, her heart pounding erratically.
He was a vampire.