“You do? How can that be?”
“I have my ways. Do not worry. I will think of something. The debt is not due for months.” Earlier, he had considered kidnapping her, but that would solve nothing. Bloodworth could still insist on payment and though Stefan cared little forwhat happened to Barrett, the man was Bryony’s father. She would never be happy if her father was sent to rot in debtor’s prison or they lost the family home and their good name.
“I fear I must marry him,” Bryony said, sounding resigned.
“I will not hear of it,” he said firmly. “I will kill him first.”
“Stefan!”
He shrugged. “It was just a thought.”
“Well, think of something else.”
“Just now, all I can think of is you.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. “Soft. So soft.”
He brushed her lips with his, then murmured, “Sweet, so very sweet.” He kissed her more deeply, his hand stroking lightly up and down her back. He could make love to her here and now, he thought. When she was no longer a virgin, perhaps Bloodworth would no longer want her. It was a tempting thought, but he dismissed it immediately. He would not steal her virginity to keep another man from taking it.
He rained kisses over her face and neck, lingering on her lips, the curve of her throat.
Bryony clung to him, caught up in the magic of his kisses, the husky sound of his voice whispering that he loved her more than life itself.
“A taste?” he asked, his voice hoarse with wanting.
It was what she had been waiting for. Eagerly, she brushed her hair out of the way, closed her eyes as he bit her, unleashing wave after wave of sensual pleasure, leaving her to wonder if anything could be more wonderful, or more satisfying.
Stefan grinned inwardly as he read her thoughts.Ah, my fair Bryony, he mused as the warmth of her blood spread through him like liquid sunshine.You have no idea.
The next afternoon, at her father’s request, Bryony donned her best gown and applied a light dusting of powder to her face. Her maid, Olivia, artfully arranged her hair.
At precisely one o’clock that afternoon, Lord Timothy Bloodworth came calling. He was seated in the back parlor with her father when Bryony entered the room. One look at the man filled her with dread. Dressed in a bright green coat and buff-colored breeches, he was every bit as unappealing as he had been the last time she had seen him, and even more obese than before, if that was possible.
When he rose to his feet, she curtseyed and offered him her hand while her stomach churned with revulsion.
When Bryony took her seat, Bloodworth resumed his.
“I have informed Lord Bloodworth of the wedding details,” her father said, not meeting her eyes. “He has no objection.”
Bryony forced a tight smile.
She thought the next hour would never pass. One of the maids entered the room carrying a tea tray, another with a China plate of sweet cakes and tarts. Bloodworth helped himself to two of each. Her father kept up a steady stream of conversation, most of which Bloodworth ignored as he was too busy stuffing his face and leering at Bryony through his little pig eyes.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the hour was over and Bloodworth finally rose to take his leave. Standing in front of Bryony, he reached for her hand and kissed her palm. “Good afternoon, my dear. I look forward with great eagerness to our wedding day. And night.”
Bryony smiled weakly. “Good day, my lord.”
When her father escorted Bloodworth out of the room, she slumped in her chair. Stefan had better think of something and soon, she thought, because she would rather throw herself off the manor house roof than marry that horrible man.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The six hunters gathered in their favorite pub. “So, what’s our next move?” Charles asked. He had been appointed the nominal leader of the group, having the most kills to his name.
“Barrett doesn’t want us to do anything while the vampire is with his daughter, or while they are at the manor.” Jeffrey Allen remarked, with a sneer. “No bloodshed on the family grounds.”
“The man’s a fool,” Albert Sinclair muttered. “The vampire is there all the time. I know Barrett is ‘retired’ from the business, but what the hell? He’s in the best position to take the bloodsucker’s head.”
There were murmurs of agreement all around.
Charles held up his hand for silence. “I can’t argue with that, but we have to honor his request. To that end, we need to find the vampire’s lair. Since he transports himself back and forth, that presents a problem. He’s done a damn good job of covering his tracks. Except for a few people in that village where he used to live, no one knows anything about him—not his last name, or where he came from, or where his other lairs might be. I checked the Guild record book. There’s nothing on his page but his name. Whoever started the record estimated his age to be four hundred and fifty.”
