Muttering an oath, he wrapped the towel around his waist and strolled down the hall to his room. Moving to the window, he stared out at the night, drinking in the myriad sights and smells that were unknown to humankind. How he loved the night! The way the darkness enfolded him, the way the night wind whispered secrets in his ears. A deep breath carried the scents of mortals and animals alike, the pungent odor of smoke wafting from a chimney a mile away, the cloying smell of a tart’s perfume, the musky scent of her customer’s lust.
He turned away from the window and imagined Bryony beside him. He was eager to show her the wonders of the world—the Taj Mahal in India, the Great Wall of China, the Eiffel Tower in France, the Great Sphinx in Egypt, the Parthenon in Greece, the Blue Lagoon in Iceland, the Colosseum in Rome. He had viewed them all, time and again, as he traveled the world, but always alone. How much more satisfying it would be to share such beauty, such magnificentcreations, with the one he loved. It would be like seeing them all anew through her eyes.
Bryony.Body and soul, he ached for the touch of her hand, her kiss, the breathy way she murmured his name when he held her close.
Bryony sat up, her gaze darting around her darkened bedchamber. “Stefan? Stefan, are you there?”
Disappointed, she slumped back against the pillows when there was no reply. She could have sworn he was in the room. How she wished he was there, holding her close, murmuring that he loved her, his tongue playing over her lips, his fangs nipping at her neck, his bite filling her with warmth and pleasure. Her Stefan. She missed him desperately when they were apart.
I am with you, my fair Bryony. Go to sleep and dream of me.
It was startling—and oh, so exciting—to hear his voice in her mind. To know he was thinking of her. She refused to succumb to her earlier fears, reminding herself that in all the time they had been together, he had never hurt her. No, not once.
Sliding back under the covers, she closed her eyes and summoned his image to mind—devil-dark eyes, a body she loved to touch, and kisses that could drive her to distraction. She was smiling when she fell asleep and he was there, in her dreams, waiting for her.
Bryony woke early the next morning, eager to tell her father the good news. She knew he always spent an hour or two in his study before breakfast and she wanted to catch him alone. She didn’t take time to dress, just pulled on her favorite wrapper, stepped into a pair of slippers and hurried down the stairs.
She found him sitting behind his desk, perusing some important-looking papers.
He glanced up, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw her. “You’re up early,” he said. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Everything is wonderful.”
“Is it?”
Nodding, she sat in the ladderback chair beside the desk. “Stefan said he’s willing to repay the Bloodworth loan. He said it would be my wedding gift.”
She had expected him to be relieved, happy, even. Instead, he stared at her, his eyes narrowed.
“I would rather go to prison for life than accept help from that bloodsucking monster. And I will send you to a convent before I let you marry him. Is that clear? I’ll find a way to settle the debt.”
“But…”
“I mean what I said. And one more thing, he isn’t welcome in our house any longer. Tell him so.”
“I can’t believe you’re willing to force me marry a man I don’t love, a man old enough to be my father, rather than accept help from the man I love. The man who loves me! I will never, ever, forgive you for this! And if you force me to marry that dreadful man, I will never speak to you again as long as I live!”
Without giving him a chance to respond, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
She fretted over her father’s stubbornness the rest of the day. Did he hate Stefan so much that he would truly rather go to prison than accept help freely offered? Was it hatred or pride that prevented him from accepting Stefan’s offer?
Pleading a headache, she spent the day in her bedchamber. Her mother came in and fussed over her. Veronica read to her fromIvanhoe. Eli brought her a rose he picked in the garden. She was grateful for their attention, but her misery remained.
That night, she watched for Stefan from her balcony. As soon as she saw him striding toward the front door, she whispered his name.
He looked up, a smile on his face when he saw her.
She gestured for him to come to her, watched in amazement as he jumped from the ground and over her balcony to take her in his arms.
“Good evening, princess,” he said, with a teasing grin. “Do you need rescuing?”
“You have no idea. My father refused your offer. He said he’d rather go to prison than accept help from you.”
Stefan grunted softly, thinking he should have seen that coming.
“There’s more.”
“I am no longer welcome here.”
