“I’m not sure.” Either a black witch had woven a spell of protection around him, or he carried an enchanted talisman of some kind that blocked preternatural power from invading his mind.
Pulling Bryony into his arms, he kissed her. “You will see the difference in the others tonight.” He kissed her again. “Now, I must go down and knock at your front door.”
Bryony nodded uncertainly. She watched him leave by the balcony and then hurried downstairs, wanting to be there when Alistair let him in.
Her parents were in the drawing room. A fire blazed in the hearth. Her father was reading a book, her mother was perusing dress patterns.
“Bryony,” her mother said, smiling. “Come look at this wedding gown.”
Bryony went to sit on the couch with her mother, her heart pounding as she waited for Stefan to arrive. At his knock, Alistair went to the door. He returned a moment later to announce their guest.
“Show him in,” Barrett said, laying his book aside.
Bryony held her breath as Stefan entered the room. Her mother smiled as Stefan took her hand in his and kissed it. For a moment, Stefan and her father regarded each other, the tension between them almost tangible, though her mother didn’t seem to notice. Stefan took the seat her father offered and Bryony spent the next forty minutes feeling as if she was watching a stage play. Her mother was cordial, her father cool but polite. Veronica and Eli dashed in and out, both havingprevious engagements. When Stefan asked if he might take Bryony for a walk in the gardens, her father reluctantly gave his permission.
“We still have a problem,” she said, as they stepped outside. “What if my father refuses to let us wed?”
“We will worry about that if it happens,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “If worse comes to worse, we will elope, as you suggested.” Taking her by the hand, they walked in the moonlight. When they reached the gazebo, he drew her inside and they sat down. “You dreamed of me last night,” he said.
“How did you know?”
“I was drawn into it.”
“It was so real.”
“Indeed.”
“Did you really turn someone who then killed herself?”
A muscle throbbed in his jaw. “Yes.”
“How dreadful that must have been.”
He nodded. It had been far worse than dreadful.
“I’ve seen you in the sun’s light. Why doesn’t it hurt you?”
“My mother concocted a magical potion that allows me to endure the sun’s light. It tastes vile but it allows me to walk in daylight when I wish. Fortunately, I do not have to take it often.”
“And you’ve never turned anyone else?”
“No. Let us talk of something else.”
She pressed her lips together. “Veronica and I thought we would like to marry in the Fall, if it’s all right with you and Robert.”
“Not sooner?”
“There’s much to be done. Dresses to be made. Invitations to be sent. A menu to plan.”
He grunted softly. “Anything you wish to do is fine with me.” His gaze met hers. “A taste before I go?”
She sighed as she swept her hair out of the way. His bite was gentle, as always. Her eyelids fluttered down as pleasure poured through her, warm and sensual. All too soon, he ran his tongue over the tiny wounds and lifted his head.
Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her, a slow, sweet kiss that gradually grew deeper, more intense. Abruptly, he eased away from her. Rising, he murmured, “I am not sure I can wait until Fall, fair Bryony. Will I see you tomorrow night?”
“You’d better.”
A smile, another soul-shattering kiss, and he was gone.
