The thought of going anywhere with him was disconcerting, which was odd, since they were alone in the house. She was no safer here than she would be anywhere else. But the thought of being in a shop surrounded by books was too tempting to pass up. “I…I would like that.”
“Very well. Get your cloak while I ready the buggy.”
With a nod, she bounded off the couch and ran up the stairs. She was going to the city!
Bryony felt a rush of excitement as the buggy pulled up in front of Ye Olde Book Shoppe. She had loved books since she was a child. Her mother had read to her every night before bed, legends of gallant heroes and brave heroines, stories of hope and faith from the Bible, and fairy tales, which had been Bryony’s favorite when she was young.
Stefan handed Bryony out of the buggy and followed her into the shop. He watched her face light up as she perused row after row of books. Her choices fascinated him—Jane Eyre,David Copperfield, Ivanhoe, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.AndFrankenstein. He grinned inwardly. Little did she know she was living with a real-life monster.
Bryony carried the leather-bound volumes to the counter where a clerk wrapped them and added up the bill. Stefan paid for them without comment.
“Would you care to stop for tea?” he asked as they left the bookshop. “Or perhaps dessert?”
Bryony felt her mouth water at the thought of sweets.
Grinning inwardly, Stefan stowed the books under the seat of the buggy, then took her hand in his, partly because he liked touching her, partly to keep her from trying to run away.
Bryony walked beside him, acutely aware of his presence. He was a tall man, well-proportioned and strong, yet light on his feet. Next to him, she felt small and helpless.
When they reached the tea shop, he stood behind her as she scrutinized the pastries.
Bryony licked her lips. So many to choose from. How was she ever to make up her mind?
She finally decided on a raspberry tart and a cup of green tea.
“Aren’t you having any?” she asked, as they found a table near the front window.
“I have no taste for tea.” His gaze moved to the hollow of her throat. “Or sweets.” At least not the kind she meant.
Bryony ate slowly, refusing to let him spoil her enjoyment. Leanora was a good cook, but she didn’t often make rich desserts.
Stefan watched her surreptitiously as she ate, felt his desire spring to life as she licked a bit of raspberry from her lips, wishing he could do the same.
When she finished, he again took her hand.
He needn’t have bothered, she thought, as they walked along the sidewalk. She had no intention of trying to run away. What was the point? She was sure he could easily overtake her. And who knew whether he would punish her for trying to escape?
Stefan shook his head as he divined her thoughts. She truly believed the worst of him, he mused. And then sighed. If she knew who he was, what he was, fear would swiftly over-ride her caution and she would run screaming from his presence.
Afraid he might surrender to the desperate need to take Bryony in his arms and make love to her until sunrise, Stefan bid her good night at the door. She was a constant temptation and it was driving him crazy. Never before had he wanted a woman the way he wanted her. Not for the first time, he told himself to let her go before he did something he would regret. And knew he would not.
When she was safely inside, he strolled through the night, his thoughts turned inward. Lost in self-recrimination, he didn’t sense the presence of the hunters until it was too late. He let out a harsh cry as pain speared through his back. A wooden stake. It missed his heart by inches.
They were on him in an instant, silver-bladed knives slicing through cloth into his arms, his back, his chest. Silver weakened him, but never like this. His reflexes were slow, sluggish…as if he had been drugged. The silver, he thought, dully. They had done something to it. For a moment, he thought they would prevail and he stopped fighting. Why not let them win? He had lived long enough. Seen it all. Done it all. Maybe it was time to surrender.
But then he thought of Bryony and knew he had to see her, hold her, one more time before he took his last breath. He screamed his pain and his fury as he grabbed hold of one of his attackers and broke his neck. The second hunter was a fighter. He managed to rake his blade across Stefan’s belly before Stefan hurled him against a tree, breaking his back. The third hunter turned and ran.
Bleeding from numerous cuts, Stefan stared at the two lifeless bodies. He hated drinking from the dead but he needed blood badly to heal. He was bending over the nearesthunter when he heard hoofbeats and the raucous hoots and laughter of men in their cups.
Cursing under his breath, he dragged himself into the brush at the side of the road, the need for blood the most exquisite kind of torture. It left him weak, his body throbbing in agony. His vision blurred into a red mist. A low groan rose in his throat as he summoned the last of his waning strength and transported himself to his lair moments before the darkness engulfed him.
Chapter Five
In the morning after breakfast, while Leanora dusted and swept and mopped, Bryony went upstairs and arranged her new books on the mantel in her bedchamber. Save forFrankenstein,she had read them all before. And eagerly looked forward to visiting old friends again.
She tapped her foot as she glanced at the titles. Something old? Or something new? She picked up the Shelley book, wondering whatever had possessed her to choose it, and put it back. She didn’t like monsters or scary stories. Perhaps she would save it for last. Or maybe she could return it and exchange it for something else?
She pluckedJane Eyrefrom the mantel. It was one of her favorites. There was something so heart-breakingly romantic about the relationship between Mr. Rochester and Jane. The ending always made her cry.
