She let out a cry of denial when, abruptly, he rose from the bed and vanished through the window. Puzzled, she stared after him. Why had he left? And then she heard her father’s footsteps outside the door, his whispered voice as he called her name.
“Bryony?”
She lay there, still as a statue, her heart racing like a tiger’s caught in a trap. Had he heard them?
He called her name a second time and then she heard his footsteps moving away, receding down the corridor.
Relief washed her like a flood, leaving her feeling limp and exhausted.
Turning onto her side, she took a deep breath. And smiled. Because Stefan’s scent lingered in the bedclothes. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was still there, beside her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Excitement fluttered in the pit of Bryony’s stomach as she dressed the following evening. Stefan hadn’t said he would come by, but she wanted to be ready, just in case. Earlier in the day, her father had called her into his office and tried yet again to convince her to stop seeing Stefan.
She had sighed as she listened to the long litany of Stefan’s faults. He was a vampire. A monster. Not fit to associate with decent people. He was a killer. He drank human blood to survive. She would never be safe with him. And on and on and on.
She knew everything her father had said was true and yet she could not abide the thought of sending Stefan away and never seeing him again. He loved her. He treated her like a queen. His kisses filled her with delight and when he drank from her… She sighed, wondering again how something that should have been disgusting and repugnant could make her feel so wonderful. But she didn’t really care. She knew only that he was ever in her thoughts when they were apart and in her dreams at night. And he needed her. She had felt his sense of isolation more than once.
Anticipation sprang to life within her when she heard a knock at the front door. He was here! Odd, that she could sense his presence, she mused, as she flew down the stairs
Alistair gave her a bow as he closed the door behind Stefan and left the room.
“Bryony,” Stefan murmured, taking her hands in his. “How lovely you look this evening.”
“So do you.” For once, he wasn’t attired all in black. His coat and trousers were midnight blue, his shirt white, his cravat a dark, dark red.
“What would you like to do this evening?” he asked.
“I don’t care, as long as we’re together.”
“Then let us go dancing so I can hold you in my arms.”
She smiled up at him, then sobered when she heard her father clear his throat.
Stefan bowed in Barrett’s direction. “Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening,” Barrett replied, his voice gruff. “Where are you taking my daughter tonight?”
“Dancing,” Stefan said.
Barrett grunted. “Have her home before midnight.”
“As you wish.”
Bryony went to her father and gave him a hug. “Good night, Father.”
“Don’t be late.” He glanced at Stefan, then turned on his heel and left the room.
Stefan sighed. If looks could kill, he’d be dead on the floor. “Are you ready, love?”
With a smile, she took his arm. Moments later, they were at an exclusive club in the city.
Stefan led her to a table where they ordered drinks—a glass of sherry for her, red wine for him.
Bryony couldn’t help noticing that all the women stared at Stefan. It happened everywhere they went. Not that she could blame them. He was the most handsome of men.
But he never looked back.
