He grunted softly. "Indeed." How like her, he thought, to be able to see the good and ignore the rest. Perhaps he had survived too long. Perhaps it was time to end it before the bitterness growing inside him devoured him.
Jaw clenched, he stood up and reached for his cloak.
"Where are you going?"
"Out." He gestured at her plate. "You've had your dinner, and now I must go hunt my own. Something thick and hot."
"You're doing it again," Rhianna said accusingly. "Trying to shock me, to make me think you're some kind of monster. Why? Why do you keep doing that?"
"It's what I am." He ran a hand through his hair, guilt and regret and self-reproach rising up within him. She brought out the best in him, he thought ruefully, and the worst, as well. He wanted to be worthy of her love and yet, for some perverse reason he didn't understand, he found himself trying to provoke her hatred.
"Very well, my lord," she said angrily. Pushing the tray away, she got to her feet, rounded the table, and stood in front of him. "You think yourself a monster." She titled her head to the side and drew her collar away from her neck, exposing the curve of her throat. "Prove it."
He looked at her as if she had gone mad. "What are you doing?"
"I want you to prove to me what a monster you are. Go on, rip out my throat. Drink your fill."
He stared down at her, his nostrils filling with the scent of her anger. He could hear the blood thrumming in her veins, hot and heavy, hear the rapid beat of her heart.
His gaze locked on the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. He licked his lips, remembering the sweet taste of her blood on his tongue.
"I'm waiting." She stared back at him, her blue eyes daring him to take what she was offering.
He felt his fangs lengthen, felt their sharpness against his tongue. His breathing grew harsh, his hands clenched into fists as he felt the hunger rise up within him, urging him to wrap her in his embrace, to drink and drink and drink.
It's what you are, the hunger urged. Why fight it any longer?
His hands reached for her. As if they belonged to someone else, he watched his fingers curl over her shoulders. She was so fragile, he could easily break her in two. Slowly, he drew her closer, closer, until her face filled his vision. Her eyes were wide, deep blue pools filled with love and compassion and acceptance.
He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of fear. It struck him with the force of a mortal blow, overpowering the hunger within him.
"Rhianna." With a harsh sob, he sat down.
Drawing her into his lap, he crushed her against him. "You foolish girl."
"You only proved I was right, my lord," she said, her hand caressing his cheek. "You're not a monster at all."
She glanced over his shoulder as the door swung open and Bevins entered the room.
"Ah," he said, clearing his throat. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to disturb you.
"It's all right," Rayven said. He set Rhianna on her feet and stood up. "I was just going out."
"Will you be needing anything else this evening?"
"No, Bevins. Good night."
"Good night, my lord. Lady Rhianna." With a bow, he went into the small room that adjoined their suite and closed the door.
"You've said you don't like the blood of sheep," Rhianna remarked. "Why don't you take what you need from me instead?"
Rayven shook his head. "No." His voice was harsh, not with anger, but gratitude.
"And if I were to insist?"
"No, Rhianna. I would not use you so." There might be a time when he would need her blood to survive, a time when he might need more than the very small amount he allowed himself when they made love, but he would not drink from her as he drank from others, would not use her to satisfy his hunger, tempting as it might be.
She placed her hands flat against his chest. "Would you let me eat locusts and ants if it was unnecessary, my lord?"
"It's not quite the same thing, my sweet," he said ruefully.
"Please don't refuse me, Rayven. It's something I want to do for you. Something I need to do."
At a loss for words, he shook his head.
"Rayven…"
"No, Rhianna. I'm grateful for your offer, more grateful than you'll ever know, but I cannot accept."
She studied his face, wondering why he was being so stubborn. 'Very well, my lord," she said. "But the offer stands."
He nodded. "I shan't be gone long," he said, and gathering his cloak, he left the room.
She was asleep when he returned. It had taken him longer than usual to find someone suitable for his purposes; after he had quenched his hunger, he had walked through Hyde Park, comfortable in the darkness.
Now, he stood at the foot of the bed, watching her for a long while, marveling anew at her generosity of spirit. No other woman in all the world would make such an offer, he mused, and he loved her the more for it. In desperate times, he had taken blood from Bevins, but that was in payment of an old debt. Rhianna had offered out of love.
With a sigh, he went to stand in front of the fireplace, his arm braced against the mantle as he stared into the cold hearth. A fire sprang to life at the blink of his eye and he stared, unseeing, into the flames.
Who would have thought that one young woman could make such vast changes in his life in such a short time?
How would he ever let her go?
Chapter Twenty-two
They stayed in London another two weeks, and then returned to Millbrae.
Rhianna felt a growing sense of anticipation as the carriage climbed the long, fog-shrouded hill to the castle. Once, the fortress had loomed cold and forbidding; now it was home.
Rayven helped her from the carriage, his gaze sweeping over the grounds. He had taken residence in a great many lands in the last four centuries; of them all, Devil Tree Mountain and its stark castle had always been his favorite abode, and yet he had never thought of Castle Rayven as home until now. Until Rhianna.
Swinging Rhianna into his arms, he opened the front door and carried her into the hall. "Welcome home, Lady Rhianna."
Rhianna laughed softly as he carried her down the corridor into the study.
The weeks they had spent in London had been wonderful. It had, she thought, been the best time of her entire life. She had slept at Rayven's side during the day, toured the theaters and concert halls with him in the evening.
Twice she had talked him into taking her blood, not just a sip, but enough to soothe his hunger. He had not wanted to, had argued against it, but, in the end, she had convinced him it was something she needed to do, wanted to do. And because he hated to deny her anything in his power, he had relented. The experience had left her feeling weak as a newborn babe, but she had found a deep satisfaction in nourishing him with her life's essence.
Setting her on her feet, Rayven dropped a kiss on her forehead; then, with a glance, he lit the lamps and started a fire in the hearth.
He could hear Bevins moving through the house, carrying their trunk and then Rhianna's valise into the tower room, making another trip to the carriage to unload the things she had purchased for her family.
Rhianna stood in front of the fireplace, shivering against the chill in the room, until Rayven put his arms around her, drawing her into the deep silken folds of his cloak.
With a sigh of contentment, she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. This was where she wanted to be, where she belonged.
"Tired?" he asked.
"Not really." She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to be closer, wishing she could climb inside his heart and soul and discover the secrets he refused to share.
"Hungry?" He stroked her hair lightly, all his senses vibrantly attuned to her nearness.
"No." She drew back a little so she could see his face. "Are you?"
He smiled down at her, his eyes filled with such love that it made her heart skip a beat.
"No." He had taken her blood twice in the last two weeks. He dared not tak
e more so soon, nor was there any need.
At first, he had refused to drink from her. It was one thing to savor her sweetness in the throes of passion, another to take enough of her precious blood to still the hunger that burned within him. In the end, because he found it impossible to deny her anything within his power, he had done as she asked. Savoring the sweetness of her blood had made him realize anew just how much he had loathed the blood of sheep.
It was difficult now to remember that he had bought her for the sole purpose of satisfying his hunger. Miraculously, a few sips of her precious blood pacified his hunger far more effectively than had the blood of countless other women, women whose names and faces he could no longer recall.
"Will you be needing anything else tonight?" Bevins asked.
Rayven shook his head.
"Would you mind if I…" Bevins cleared his throat. "Would you mind if I took the carriage this evening?"
"Of course not," Rayven said, then frowned. "Where are you going?"
"I…" Bevins cleared his throat. "I thought I'd go look in on Mistress McLeod."
Rhianna glanced over her shoulder. "You're going to see my mother?"
"If you've no objection, milady?"
"No, of course not," Rhianna said.
"I, uh…" Bevins ran a finger around the inside of his collar. "I just thought perhaps she might like to know you're well."
"Of course," Rhianna said. "Give her my love. And tell her I'll be by to see her soon."
"I'll do that," Bevins said. "Good night, my lord. Lady Rhianna." With a slight bow, he left the room.
"Well," Rhianna said, "what do you make of that?"
Rayven shook his head. For the first time, it occurred to him that he had thoughtlessly condemned Bevins to endure the same lonely life he himself had lived.
"It was never my intention to rob Tom of a normal life," he remarked. "And yet that is what I've done. I spent so much time worrying about protecting my own existence, I never gave any thought to how lonely he must have been all these years."
"You had good reason to worry, my lord," Rhianna said.
Rayven shook his head. "It was wrong of me. Why did I not realize it sooner?"
Ada McLeod blinked in surprise when she saw Tom Bevins standing at her door. Her first thought was that something had happened to Rhianna.
"What is it?" she asked anxiously. "What's that monster done to my daughter?"
"Miss Rhianna is quite well, madam."
"Thank the Lord." She peered over Bevins's shoulder. "Did she come with you?"
"No, Mistress McLeod. I, uh, I just wanted to come by and assure you that she is well, and…" He tugged at his collar, then cleared his throat. "Quite well."
"Would you care to come in and sit a spell, Mr. Bevins?" Ada asked, alarmed by the sudden flush in his cheeks.
"Yes, thank you, madam."
"Come along, then."
Bevins followed her into the kitchen, sat down at the table at her invitation.
"Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. Bevins?"
"Yes, thank you."
Lifting a pot from the fire, Ada filled two cups. She placed one in front of Bevins, then sat down across from him. She didn't feel comfortable having the man in her house, but she was eager to hear news of her daughter. "Sugar?" she asked. "Milk?"
"No, thank you, madam."
"Now, then, sir, what brings you here at this late hour?"
"I was wondering if I might have permission to, uh…"
"To what?"
"I should very much like to call on you, Mistress McLeod."
"Call on me?" Ada stared at him in disbelief. She was forty years old and the mother of five children. Long past the age when men came courting.
"Yes, madam."
Ada folded her hands in her lap, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. "I don't know what to say."
"Say yes, Mistress McLeod."
Ada shook her head. "I can't allow you to come calling, Mr. Bevins."
"I see." He shook his head. "No, I don't see. I thought, that is… Why not?"
Ada lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. "I have no liking for the man who employs you. I don't trust him. He's evil. He has bewitched my daughter."
Bevins shook his head. "Mistress McLeod, I assure you that the rumors you've heard about my master are false."
"I think not. There's something peculiar about him." She shook her head. "I know not what it is, but I know he's not like other men."
Bevins let out a sigh of resignation.
"You admit it, then?"
"My lord's ways may seem strange to you, Mistress McLeod, but he is a good man."
"I've heard nothing of his goodness."
"The stories told in the village are lies," Bevins said, wondering how to steer the subject away from his master.
"They can't all be lies," Ada argued. "And even if they are, it's been my experience that most lies are based on an element of truth. There's something odd about him, I'm thinking, something that doesn't ring true. I've lived in the valley all my life, and never once have I seen that man in the village in the light of day, nor has anyone else that I know of. 'Tis an evil man who shuns the light, who has no friends." She stared into her tea cup, sadness dragging at her features. "I fear for my daughter's well-being."
Bevins fidgeted in his chair. "Mistress McLeod, my Lord Rayven may not live like other men, but he loves your daughter, and while she lives with him, no harm will befall her. I can promise you that."
"You're very loyal."
"He saved my life many years ago."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, madam." Bevins stood up. "I'm sorry to have troubled you, Mistress McLeod."
"Good evening to you, sir."
Bevins started toward the door, then turned back, knowing if he didn't speak now, he would never have the courage to do so again.
"Mistress McLeod, I came here tonight because…" He took a deep breath and finished in a rush, "Because I'm lonely, and I thought maybe, if you were lonely, too, you wouldn't mind my company. I know you don't approve of my master, but can you not look past that and judge me on my own merits?"
Ada blinked up at him, somewhat taken aback by his impassioned declaration. "I don't know what to say."
"I should be getting back," Bevins said, his courage deserting him as quickly as it had come. "My lady said to tell you she will be coming to visit you very soon."
"Thank you," Ada said. Rising, she followed Bevins out of the kitchen to the front door of the cottage. "Give Rhianna my love."
"Yes, I will."
"Mr. Bevins?"
"Yes, madam?"
"I should be honored to have you call on me."
Bevins bowed from the waist. "It will be my pleasure, madam."
Ada stared after him, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Tom Bevins knew a great deal about Castle Rayven and its dark lord. If she was careful and clever, she might yet learn the secrets that lay hidden within the mist-shrouded walls of the castle.
"He's home," Rayven said.
Rhianna glanced up from the embroidery in her lap, her eyes filled with curiosity. "I didn't hear anything."
Rayven smiled; a moment later, Bevins entered the study.
"Yes, my lord?"
"I believe Rhianna wishes to talk to you."
"Yes, milady?
Rhianna looked at her husband. He was watching her, his dark eyes alight with mischief.
"I was just wondering if all is well at home."
Bevins nodded. "Quite well, milady."
"Won't you sit down, Tom?" Rhianna asked, gesturing at the chair across from Rayven.
"No, thank you, milady."
"Did you have a nice visit with my mother?"
"Yes, milady. She said…" Tom cleared his throat. "She said I might call on her again."
Rhianna met Rayven's amused glance.
"That is, if you have no objection, milady."
"No, of course not." Rhianna smiled at Bevins
. "I think you and my mother suit rather well."
"Thank you, milady. Will either of you be needing anything further this evening?"
"No," Rayven said, answering for them both. "You may retire."
"Thank you, my lord." Bevins bowed, then left the room.
"Is he always so formal?" Rhianna asked.
Rayven nodded. "Why do you ask?"
"The two of you have been together so long, it just seems strange, that's all. I'd think you'd be friends by now."
"I made it clear from the beginning that I would not welcome his friendship."
"Oh? why?"
"I've let no one close to me since I became Vampyre," he replied quietly. "No one, but you."
Rising from her chair, Rhianna went to sit in his lap. "I wish I could make you forget the past," she whispered, caressing his cheek. "I wish I could make you happy."
"You make me happy, beloved," he replied. "Never doubt that for a moment."
"How can I help it, when you always look so sad?"
He smiled faintly. "Do I?"
Rhianna nodded. "You try to hide it from me, but I can see it in your eyes, even now. What is it that troubles you so, my lord husband?"
With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, his face pressing against the warmth of her breasts. What hurt more? he wondered. The thought that he would soon have to release her from her vows? The certainty that she would one day marry another? Or the knowledge that she would grow old and die while he stayed forever as he was?
"My lord?"
He took a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the warm sweet scent of her perfume, her hair, her skin, the blood that was the very essence of her being. Hunger and need stirred to life within him.
"Rhianna?" Her name whispered past his lips, soft as a sigh.
She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Yes, my lord?"
His hands slid down her back as he cursed the darkness within him, the hunger that made him weak. He wondered how she could love him when he asked so much of her and gave so little in return.
Rhianna drew back a little so she could see his face. "Rayven?"
"I need you."
Smiling, she tilted her head to the side, then swept her hair over her shoulder, baring her throat. "Then take what you need, my lord."
Midnight Pleasures Page 23
