At dusk, Stefan left his underground lair and climbed the stairs to the main room. He had expected to find Bryony at dinner, but the kitchen was empty. Lifting his head, he took a deep breath and followed her scent up the stairs to the master bedchamber. He found her there, asleep in the chair by the window. The book she had been reading had fallen to the floor. He picked it up. And grinned.Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.No doubt the lovely Bryony sometimes felt like she, too, had fallen down a rabbit hole.
He had intended to take her home to River North tonight, but one look at her and he knew he would not. She was the only thing in his life that made it worth living.
Placing the book on the foot of the bed, he leaned down and ran his knuckles along her cheek. Soft. So soft. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a riot of honey-gold silk. It pleased him that she wore it down. He had never understood why women wanted to coil their hair in tight buns or trap it in an ugly knot on the top of their heads. A woman’s hair was her crowning glory. Why hide such beauty?
He lifted a lock of her hair and let it sift through his fingers.
She stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. For the briefest moment, she seemed happy to see him. And then she frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No, my fair Bryony.”
She stretched her arms over her head and sat up straighter. “Did you want something?”
“Only your company.” He shoved his hands into his trousers’ pockets to keep from pulling her into his arms.
She made a shooing motion with her hands and when he backed up a few steps, she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I’ve not yet had my dinner.”
He made a sweeping motion toward the door with his hand. “Do not let me keep you.”
He followed her out of the room and down the stairs. In the hallway, she turned left toward the kitchen.
Stefan turned right and entered the library. Taking a book from the top shelf, he settled into the chair behind the desk. He opened the book but didn’t read it. Instead, he listened to her movements in the kitchen. He didn’t have to be there to know what she was doing. He followed her footsteps from cupboard to stove, listened to the rattle of pans, inhaled the disagreeable scents of meat and vegetables as she warmed a bowl of stew.
He left her alone while she ate, listened as she washed the dishes, tracked her footsteps when she moved into the main room and settled on the couch.
He joined her there a moment later. “Is there anything you would like to do tonight?” he asked.
“I’d like to go home and see my family.”
“Ah, that again.”
“Yes!” she snapped. “That again. I guess it doesn’t mean anything to you, since you have no one to care for, no one to care for you.” Seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, she was immediately sorry for her harsh words. He really didn’t have anyone. That was the reason she was here. Not meeting his eyes, she murmured, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes,” he said. “You did.”
Tension stretched between them, a palpable presence in the room.
Bryony wished she could call the words back, but it was impossible. How could she have been so cruel? She toldherself he deserved it. He was keeping her here against her will. But it didn’t ease her guilt. She felt like she had kicked a wounded puppy.
She risked a glance in his direction. He was staring into the hearth, his dark eyes unreadable, his lips compressed in a tight line. She flinched when the logs in the fireplace suddenly burst into flame.
Feeling uncomfortable, she cast about for something to say to break the unbearable tension, but nothing came to mind.
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he said quietly. “I am accountable for the choices I have made. If I am alone, I have only myself to blame. Keeping you here is also my decision. If there are consequences, so be it.”
Consequences for him? she mused. Or for her?
A faint smile touched his lips as he lifted her to her feet and drew her into his arms. She stared into his eyes, those dark, unfathomable eyes that seemed to mesmerize her as his hand cupped the back of her head. He boldly claimed her lips with his in a searing kiss that threatened to steal the breath from her body. How could something as simple as a kiss be so powerful? She felt the heat of it flow through her like lightning and although she knew she should push him away, she folded her hands over his broad shoulders and kissed him back, tasting him on her tongue.
Briefly, he lifted his head and gazed into her eyes and then he was kissing her again, kissing her boldly until the world spun out of control and she was lost in his touch. Jumbled images flashed through her mind—images she realized were quick glimpses of Stefan’s life. Violent images of blood and death and pain. What did it mean?
His kisses became more tender. He murmured to her in a language she didn’t understand as his hands lightly caressedher back, skimmed the curve of her breast. His fingers threaded through her hair as he continued to rain kisses on her cheeks, her brow, the valley between the swell of her breasts. She started when she felt his tongue lave her neck.
Abruptly, he let her go.
Bryony blinked up at him. Why had he stopped? And why was she sorry? She told herself she hated him. He was a horrible man, a monster, keeping her here against her will.
He smiled at her. A sad smile, she thought. And then he took her in his arms again.
