Dark Rapture

by Hauf, Michele

  Scarlet grabbed the swiftly passing footman as he headed toward the front door. He paused, long enough to eye her fingers pinching his dark blue cotton coat. Releasing him, she reiterated her request with a hopeful nod of her head and the man replied dryly, “He is on his way to town, mademoiselle. But if you hurry you might catch—”

  “Thanks.” She hiked up her skirts and sped past the footman to the door. She spied the half-door on the carriage swinging shut and the coachman mounting his perch. Rushing down the steps she made it across the twenty feet of pebble drive just as the horses began to move. “Sebastian!”

  His gloved hand appeared out the window and the coachman pulled the horses to a stop. He peered out, smiling when he saw her. “Elisabeth! I had hoped to be back before you noticed me gone.”

  “Oh, Sebastian, I’m sorry.” She had to tell him. Didn’t she? “I hope you weren’t in a hurry.”

  He released the gold swing lock on the carriage door and stepped down to her side. The wind took the lace around his neck and swung it over his shoulder, revealing the first of three diamond-encrusted buttons on his white and silver brocade frock coat. For a moment Scarlet could only stare at him. He was her knight in shining armor.

  “I hope you don’t mind, Elisabeth, but I’ve a few errands to run for mother. I should be back soon and I’d offer to bring you along, but I’ve so many stops to make and I didn’t want to inconvenience you.”

  Didn’t sound like such a bad excursion.

  “I want to save Paris for when we can spend a leisurely day strolling the streets and end it in a night of dreams come true. Is that agreeable?” He held her hand, ready to kiss it as soon as she agreed.

  Though she didn’t want to let him out of her sight, Scarlet knew she could tell him everything when he got back. If she was going to tell him. Yes, maybe it would be good for him to go. Then she would have time to devise a plan.

  “I agree. On one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “You’ll come for me as soon as you get back. I don’t want to miss one minute that I can spend with you.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He kissed her open palm. “I’m sure mother would love to spend some time with you in the garden and—oh yes, I almost forgot.” He smiled like a Cheshire cat. “I have a condition for you, too.”

  “Really?” she drawled out teasingly.

  “You will spend the time to think about my proposal?”

  She’d almost forgotten. Not that it mattered anymore. “I will. I’ll give you my answer tonight. I think that sounds fair, hmm? No reason for you not to suffer a little.”

  “Ah, you are a wicked one, Elisabeth Montrose. Your thorns are showing again. All right, it is agreed. Now I must be going before too much time is lost. I wouldn’t want to miss out on what you have to say later.”

  He stepped into the carriage, then turned and stepped back down, circling his arms around her waist. “I love you, Elisabeth. I’ll hurry back.” He brushed her lips with his finger and then kissed her deeply until she felt her knees weaken and her legs begin to bend.

  "Au revoir, ma cherie.”

  She waved until the carriage disappeared past the gate at the entrance to the estate. When she could no longer hear the rattling wheels rolling over the packed road she wandered to the first step and sat down, spreading her striped skirts across the marble and over the grass.

  “Hurry back, my love,” she whispered.

  ***

  “Shall we rent a car?” Francesco plucked up his overnight bag from the baggage carousel and sprinted after Vince, whose long legs carried him swiftly across the airport concourse.

  “No, my car’s in the lot. I’ll give you a ride home, okay?”

  “Certainly, but why don’t you drop me off downtown? I’ve some business to take care of.”

  Vince threw his army duffel into the trunk and pulled Francesco’s small leather bag from his shoulder. “This late? It’s ten o’clock.”

  “Yes, well, there is someone I have to see.” Francesco waited for the door to unlock and then slipped inside the car.

  “You never told me you had a girlfriend.” Vince switched the air-conditioning to high, adjusted the rear view mirror, and they were off.

  “A girlfriend? Yes. There is a woman who has become important to me recently.”

  Francesco pictured Scarlet’s image in his mind. She was beautiful, quite uncommon. But then, Sebastian would never pick any woman, he knew that. Sebastian had never been one to go for the plain or ordinary. Be it women or music, he always chose only the finest.

  “So, tell me about this woman that you like, Vince.” Redirecting the air vents to blow away from his face, Francesco watched the highway slide beneath the car, all the while keeping Vince’s enticing profile in his peripheral view. “What’s she like?”

  Flipping the radio dial so the heavy metal whispered quietly, Vince’s mouth stretched into a grin and he gestured grandly. “She’s so beautiful, man. I mean, I’ve seen a lot of pretty women, you know, on the road. Groupies and screaming demons is what we call them. But Scarlet is different. She’s, like . . . elegant, delicate, and natural, and . . . Man, you just have to see her, I could never do her justice with words.”

  “An Aphrodite?” Francesco questioned, feeling a twinge in his heart for her already.

  “Aphro—who?”

  “The goddess of love and beauty.”

  “Yeah, I’d say Scarlet is a goddess. At least I think so, I don’t know about anybody else. Everyone has their own idea of perfection and beauty.”

  Watching Vince’s hands tell the story was a joy. Francesco wanted to reach over and clutch them to his heart, pull the man closer, and then . . . kiss him. “So I take it Scarlet likes your heavy metal music?”

  “Sure she does. But Gary is her brother, so she was pretty much raised on the stuff. Why the face? There’s nothing wrong with my music.” Vince flashed him a look and shook his hand from side to side. “Give it a while. It’ll grow on you.”

  “I suppose I have heard worse.” Francesco rolled his eyes. No, he hadn’t. “But now, what is your plan to woo this Aphrodite you’ve worshipped only from afar? I remember you telling me that she was seeing Sebastian DelaCourte, so she is not available, I assume?”

  He’d struck a nerve. Vince’s hands clung to the steering wheel. “I don’t know what to think about him anymore, you know? Sebastian and I used to be friends. Hell, we were this close to having him play on the album. But he hurt her, man. And right now, whether I was interested in Scarlet or not, all I want to do is get her away from him.”

  Francesco wondered now if Vince knew that Sebastian had transformed the object of his affections into a vampire. “How did he hurt her?”

  “He nearly raped her one night. Scarlet came running home from his house barefoot and with bruises all over. I had to tape up a cut on her forehead. I can’t believe she’s still seeing him!”

  Feeling Vince’s anger crawl up his neck, Francesco nodded in agreement. What sort of control was Sebastian exercising over this woman? He had never been the violent type when Francesco had known him.

  “Women are often seduced by the forbidden, Vince. The bad boys, the rebels. Obviously Sebastian’s jaunt in the public eye has enough drawing power to attract her. Though I can’t imagine what would hold her to him after a rape, that bastard.” He spit the last word out, pleased that he was able to play along so easily.

  “You don’t like Sebastian very much, do you?” They’d stopped at a red light, having entered the city.

  “I find you to be in a situation similar to one I was once in, Vince. Sebastian was once the thief of my heart. He had an affair with my only love.”

  “Yeah?” Vince tapped the steering wheel and pondered Francesco’s revelation.

  At the sound of horns honking behind them, Francesco motioned for Vince to continue driving. “You can pull into that parking lot ahead. From there I’ll be on my way.”

  “If t
hat’s what you . . . want.” The pain emerged with no warning, and Vince jerked forward in his seat, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

  Francesco was acutely aware of his struggle, but he held back, looking out the side window as if nothing was wrong. Closing his eyes, he could hear Vince’s breathing, heavy and occasionally hitched by another pain. Concentrating intensely, he could see the vicious red havoc that coursed through Vince’s body. A pain that was familiar to him.

  “Right here?” Vince stopped under a street light in the center of an abandoned parking lot. Past a scruff of unattended tall grass was the back of a red-brick business building, but darkness prevailed within ten feet of the car.

  “Yes, this is fine, I’ll get my bag.”

  Vince turned the ignition off and handed the keys to Francesco, keeping his face tucked to his chest. Stepping into the welcome dry air, Francesco breathed deeply, feeling relief at getting out of the humid climate of Minnesota. He peeked back in the car, finding Vince’s arms hung over the wheel and his forehead against it. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry about me. Just a headache. It’ll pass.”

  “You’re sure? I could stay a while, if you’d like. Just until you feel up to driving.”

  Vince was silent for a while and then reached down to open his door, kicking his feet out. “Maybe you could stick around for a while.”

  “Certainly.” Francesco closed his door and went around to the trunk. The urge to get on with it, to take Vince that very instant, was strong. He clutched the leather handles on his bag and glared hard at the trunk door, sensing Vince’s pain on the other side.

  But this wasn’t the time or the place. No, he had to have absolute control over the situation. “I’ll give you my address so you know where to find me.” He strolled around to Vince’s side and pulled a scrap of paper from the rubbish on the floor of the car.

  With his head in his hand Vince reached down, producing a mangled pen from the space between the seat and the shift. “Here.”

  Scribbling down his address, Francesco realized that he lived quite a distance out of town, though it was close to a freeway; he had noticed the intermittent glow of headlights from his favorite window. So he quickly drew out a map.

  “You should be able to follow this easily.” He tucked the paper in the front pocket of Vince’s shirt, lingering over the heat that emanated from the man’s body. “I live in a secluded area. Most likely you’ll think you’ve come upon a haunted house when you arrive. I haven’t had time to fix the place up yet.”

  “Sounds like you’re in the same boat as me. Gary and I just . . .” Vince grimaced, letting the pain ride out. “. . . finished fixing up my place. It was a mess when we moved in.”

  “Perhaps I could use your newfound expertise.” Settling back on his haunches, Francesco watched as Vince fought the pain. It seemed to start in waves from his gut and travel to his head where it forced Vince’s eyelids shut. “You’ll have to come over and give me a hand fixing the place up.”

  “That would be great—oh shit!"

  He was losing this battle. Vince’s head jerked to the side, nestling into the driver’s seat, his eyes closed tightly, the sweat dripping down his face. His hair and the shoulders of his t-shirt were already saturated.

  I can help you with this, Francesco thought. He flipped Vince’s hair over his shoulder, allowing the breeze to cool his fevered skin. Tremors of desire shot through his hand spreading to the core of his body. His heart pounded madly against his chest, demanding nourishment. But he knew it wasn’t time yet. Unless . . .

  Vince sat motionless, his breathing growing more shallow. He appeared to be on the verge of unconsciousness. That was good at least he wouldn’t feel the pain, Francesco thought.

  “Maybe just a little treat before the feast,” he whispered and moved closer, resting his knees on the inside of the car frame until his body was in between Vince’s parted legs. Wasn't as if he hadn't already taken a taste.

  Looking past his sleeping victim, Francesco scanned the parking lot for signs of life. Fortunately he had chosen a spot well out of the business district, though he knew that his business was just an excuse for Vince not to come home with him tonight. No one was around.

  “Vincent,” he whispered in the man’s ear, daring to let his lips feather the delicate folds of skin.

  “Hmm,” he answered groggily, not moving or opening his eyes.

  “When the pain comes again, and it doesn't stop, you seek me out.” He used vampiric persuasion so that his words would not be forgotten, only stored in Vince’s subconscious for later retrieval. “You must promise that you will come to me. I can help you, Vincent.”

  “Come to you,” Vince muttered. “Francesco can help.”

  “Yes. Don’t forget. Promise?”

  “Promise ...”

  Another spasm of pain threatened to wake his sleeping victim. Quickly, Francesco plunged his teeth into Vince’s neck, matching the pain with his own brand of sadistic pleasure.

  With a moan of unexpected pleasure, Vince’s head sank back into the seat and he passed out completely while the vampire fed on his blood.

  ***

  Having enjoyed a leisurely dinner with Angelique by the bay windows in the study, Scarlet was now content and happy. Angelique excused herself for an afternoon nap, encouraging Scarlet to explore the gardens, where Sebastian would be sure to find her. Everyone else in the house was busy. Roland and Jacques had gone to town before breakfast to tend to ‘business,’ as Angelique put it. Gregoire was off, God knew where, with his companion. And the house servants, though not in sight, were bustling around making sure that all was clean and fresh.

  “Well, this is my chance to think about things,” Scarlet said to herself as she wandered across the lawn, her skirts kissing the delicate blades.

  But she knew already what had to happen. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else since Sebastian left this morning.

  “ Francesco! ”

  “Elisabeth Montrose.” Approaching across the yard, he bowed elegantly, clutching a sword to his chest as he did. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I must apologize for not returning the other night. My services were needed for much longer than I had expected.”

  “That’s quite all right.”

  “I see that it is.” He looked down, pushing the point of his rapier into the grass at the toe of his boot. “So, you did get to meet Monsieur LeReaux after all.”

  “Yes, I made Sebastian’s acquaintance, and he offered me a place to stay. Being in an inconvenient situation, I accepted.”

  “Yes, and I hear that you have accepted more than that.” His hand swung out, forming a triangle of space between his body and sword. “I’m sorry,” he said seeing her irritation. “I had no right. Please forgive me, mademoiselle. I wish only for your friendship and for your future happiness with my friend.”

  She accepted his apology, letting him kiss the top of her hand. He looked almost villainous, dressed in black velvet and white lace from head to toe, and sporting a weapon.

  “So, I can rest assured that you haven’t come seeking vengeance against Sebastian?” she asked, with a nod toward his sword.

  “Pardon? Oh!” He slashed the blade through the air, making two quick thrashing noises. “No, dear lady. Sebastian and I engage in a friendly sparring match a few times every week. I’m teaching him the sport. But it seems I’ve missed him today. Annalise tells me he departed after breakfast on errands for his mother. But when I heard that you had been staying here I simply wanted to come and see you again. You don’t mind, do you? It seems I’ve lost you before I was ever given a chance at winning your heart. You cannot deny me your friendship.”

  Scarlet forced a smile. “I think that sounds fair. But I’m not sure when Sebastian will be back. It could be a while.”

  “It’s just as well, I must be going soon. I’ve some rent to collect from my father’s tenants and I’ve only an hour or so.
Would it be an imposition if I stayed and talked with you?”

  Seeing no way out of this one, Scarlet agreed. Not knowing what exactly to talk about, she eyed his blade. “Will you show me a few things with your sword? I’ve always admired a man with his sword thrust forward in defense of his honor. It’s so romantic.”

  “Being run through by your opponent’s blade is not romantic, my dear.” Francesco offered his hand and walked her to the center of the courtyard near the pink granite fountain. “But it would be a pleasure to show you some moves. Who knows, perhaps they may come in handy some day, should you find yourself in dire straits. There’s another sword hanging on the wall in the ballroom. Let me go and fetch it.”

  He sauntered across the yard and Scarlet looked to the maze, wishing she’d gone in before Francesco found her.

  “Here we are.” He handed her a sword with a fancy handle. The knuckle guard was of three strands of pounded silver braided together. On the pommel, the tip of the handle, there was a ruby encased in thinly-spun silver.

  “I’ve chosen a lighter one for you. God knows these things were not invented for a woman to use, but you should have little difficulty handling this one.”

  Scarlet took the sword. It was heavier than she expected, but no worse than brandishing a vacuum cleaner hose to clean the cobwebs from the top of her walls.

  Francesco tucked his weapon under his arm and began to straighten her grip. “Hold it this way.” He turned the steel until the guard was over her knuckles and the base of the grip was pressed into her wrist. “There, that will protect you, since a cut to the hand will certainly end up in disarmament. And if you keep a good grip, not so stiff and tight,” he squeezed her hand “then you’ll have much better movement. Good. Let me see now, what shall I show you?”

  Flexing her wrist, Scarlet played with the feel of the sword and slashed it through the air as Francesco pondered where to begin her education.

  “If you will.” He handed his sword to her, then removed his coat, tossing it aside to the ground.

  Retrieving his sword, Francesco’s hand rested on Scarlet’s for a moment longer than necessary. She looked away quickly.