"I'll leave a note before I seek my own sleeping quarters and explain that you're my guest." A wave of his hand opened the front door, and they stepped inside. Unable to see much in the dim light, she glimpsed enough to get the impression of wealth and opulence.
Beyond the entrance hall, winding stairs led them to the second floor, where Gaderian guided her down a long hallway and opened a door on the right. Preceding her into the room, he set her satchel on top of a wooden chest at the foot of the bed. The fragrance of fresh linens and potpourri scented the bedchamber.
He held her lightly by the arms. "Make yourself at home, dearest. I apologize that I will not be able to introduce you to my housekeeper, but I hope you understand my need for haste." He nodded toward the window, where a pink glow lit the west. "No doubt you will want to sleep now. As I said, I'll leave a note for my housekeeper, and by the time you rise, she'll have breakfast for you." He kissed her quickly. "I'll see you this evening."
She looked around the bedchamber, able to see now in the early morning light. A large canopied bed dominated the room, its bedspread a deep red velvet, and draperies to match. A large chest of drawers stood at the opposite wall of the spacious room, with a large mirror above it and a glass bowl of potpourri atop a lace doily. Overwhelmed by all of the night's events, she sank down on an upholstered bench that sat to the side of the wide window. She sighed, surrendering to her exhaustion, to the strangeness of her new home, and she wished Gaderian were with her now to share the time and the bed with her. But of course, she understood; he mustn't let the sunlight catch him. Where did he sleep? she wondered. In the cellar, no doubt.
For now, she was too tired to think, to do anything but sleep. She slipped off her shoes, then stood to draw her dress over her head. Clad in her linen shift, she pushed the bedspread back and crawled into bed. Time enough later to ask Gaderian all the questions that taunted her.
* * *
Hours later, Fianna awoke, disoriented as her gaze darted around the room. The events of the previous night came back in a rush: Angus's attempted capture of her, Gaderian's rescue, then their journey back to his home. Unsure of the time, she glanced around the room and saw an hour glass resting on the bedside table. Early afternoon; she'd had a long sleep. Shivering in the chill air, she pushed the bedspread aside and stepped out of bed, then opened her satchel to don her only woolen dress. After buttoning her dress, she stepped into her shoes and left to go downstairs.
There, she saw what she had missed in the early morning darkness. A splendid living room stood to her left and to her right appeared to be another such room, this one not quite so formal. The hall stretched the length of the first floor, and some other time, she'd love to see what rooms lay behind her, but for now, her stomach growled, her hunger getting the best of her. She stood in shy indecisiveness and saw nothing to do but go in search of food.
An older woman emerged from down the long hallway. "Ah, there you are. Mr. Wade wrote me a note, telling me to expect you to wake up sometime this afternoon, so I've been checking the stairs every now and then." She smiled. "I'm Birgit, the housekeeper, and I'll wager you're hungry." A short, plump woman clad in black, with gray hair, she had a friendly face, immediately relieving Fianna's mind, for if this was to be her new home, she needed a friend.
She swallowed. "Hungry, yes, madam–uh, Birgit."
"Well, then," Birgit said briskly, "follow me." She led her down the hall, past a large dining room on one side and a Treasury of Knowledge across from it. A few more steps took them to a smaller dining room. Birgit pulled out a chair for her. "Mr. Wade mentioned that you would want breakfast when you awoke, but I'm wondering if you'd rather have a late lunch, considering the hour."
Fianna sat down and drew the chair closer to the table. "Whatever is easier. A late lunch sounds fine, something simple." Her gaze took in the magnificence of the room and indeed, of the whole house. And this was the smaller dining room! A spicy fragrance scented the air, a pleasant surprise this time of the year.
"Very well. I'll be right back." She hustled off with no-nonsense, quick steps.
The highly-polished table held a place setting for one, with brass candelabras in the middle of the table, and a brass bell at her right. The soft, light green sheepskin rug, so thick her feet sank into them, matched the draperies at the wide window. Beneath the window stood a long table, a glass bowl of potpourri in the center, the source of the lovely spicy fragrance. The wooden walls of the room gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight, but the sun was sinking fast, since it was autumn. A large bronze plaque graced one wall, its curvilinear design barely visible at this hour, the only ornament she saw in the room. Within a couple moonphases, complete darkness would descend on the country at this hour. Two oil lamps dangled from the ceiling, casting a warm glow on walls and furniture.
The housekeeper returned with a steaming bowl of soup on a tray, along with a basket of warm bread and a glass of red wine. She set Fianna's lunch before her and stepped back, a questioning look on her face.
"If this isn't enough, you must let me know." She indicated the bronze bell. "Just ring the bell and I'll come."
"Thank you, Birgit, this looks fine, and I'm sure it's quite adequate." She caught the tantalizing scent of aromatic onion soup, and her stomach growled again.
"Well, then, if you're sure . . . I'll be back later to get your things when you're finished."
"Thank you." She dipped her bronze spoon into the bowl and took a tentative taste of the soup as the housekeeper left. The aroma and taste of bay leaves was another pleasant surprise, the best soup she'd had in a long time, or perhaps her hunger made it seem so. She reached into the covered basket and broke off a piece from the warm, fragrant loaf of oat bread, strong with the scent of yeast. She sighed with bliss; she didn't know what awaited her in this strange house or what her future held, but at least she would eat well, than the Goddess for small blessings. She sipped her wine, the best elderberry wine she'd ever tasted, and assumed it was homemade. As she ate and drank, the shadows in the room darkened, a chill in the air.
Finished with her repast a short while later, she left the dining room and trod up the winding stairs to fetch her shawl. In her bedchamber, she saw someone had been in her room while she'd eaten, for an oil lamp glowed beside her bed. Reaching into her satchel, she found it empty. She opened the dresser drawer behind her and found her clothes–the few that she had–neatly put away. They must think I'm a pauper, she mused, retrieving her shawl from the drawer and wrapping it around her shoulders.
She stood in silent reflection for a few moments as she absorbed the full force of her situation. She was living in a strange house with a man she knew little of, no matter how much she loved him. A vampire. In the name of all the gods and goddesses, how could she adjust her life to his, and would he try to reconcile his life to hers? No, of course not; how could he? A hundred questions sprouted in her brain, problems for which she had no ready answer. She wondered what the servants thought of Gaderian. Did they realize he was a vampire? Surely they must, if they never saw him during the day, and he emerged from the cellar at night. And what did the servants think of her? No matter what they thought of her or Gaderian, they obviously respected him, for she had seen no evidence of surliness or poor service in the little she'd seen of the employees so far.
Tightening the shawl around her, she headed down the long hallway and on downstairs, both hallway and downstairs rooms lit by oil lamps, for complete darkness had settled over the land. She wondered what lay in store for her, living with Gaderian. Something told her she would soon find out.
She stepped outside to wander around the grounds but saw little in the darkness, nor did she see anyone. First thing tomorrow morning, she'd go for a long walk to see the other houses nearby, get a feel for the area. A cold wind swept across the land, and trees and bushes tossed their leaves to the ground. Seeing little in the dark, she mounted the steps and headed back inside.
* * *
&nb
sp; "I don't want you to go outside unless I can accompany you," Gaderian said later that evening, as if he'd known she'd stepped out earlier in the day. They sat in the small dining room–the same in which she'd had her late lunch–with Gaderian at the head of the table and she at his right. A plate of roasted chicken stuffed with almonds sat before her place, while Gaderian sipped white wine.
"What?" Her face warmed. For one stunned moment, she remained speechless, but then her indignation caught up with her mouth. "That means I can't go outside at all during the day! Am I to be a prisoner here?" Before he could reply, she went on, "What is the reason for this prohibition?"
He spoke calmly, as if unaware of her pique, or possibly too well aware. "I doubt if we've seen the last of Angus Kendall. There is nothing to stop him from discovering where I live, and he may well hunt you down here. No matter how loyal the undead are to me–and some of them remain a question–there are far too many of them who can't keep a secret. Gold talks, you know." He sipped his wine and set the glass down, giving her a look of stern remonstrance. "I can't take a chance on having something happen to you." He reached over and clasped her hand. "You mean too much to me."
She squeezed his hand in return but remained unmollified. She swallowed. "I was looking forward to going for long walks, seeing the other houses and the countryside. I can't stand being cooped up." The chicken, tender and juicy, broke off easily with her spoon, and she raised a bite to her mouth. No matter how upset she was at his pronouncement, it would do no good for her to starve herself.
He spoke with a sympathetic but firm voice. "Believe me, I understand how you feel. I'd feel the same. Let us hope that Kendall will soon tire of his pursuit. But his kind doesn't give up easily, one thing I've learned in my life. Possibly I should have used stronger persuasion when I evicted him from the tavern."
She reached for her wine glass. " 'Stronger persuasion'? Like what?"
He raised his glass to his mouth and smiled above the rim. "Roughed him up a little."
"Are you sure you didn't kill him?"
"Positive. The man is no doubt prowling the streets of Moytura now, trying to discover where you are."
She nodded, fearing she had no choice but to follow his suggestion about staying inside. "Very well, then. I stay inside. What shall I do, help the servants clean the house?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice.
"Hardly that, but I have quite an extensive Treasury of Knowledge. Didn't you see it earlier?"
"Not closely."
"Well, I think you will find that there is plenty of extensive reading material there." He paused, fingering his glass. "This one concession I will make. You can go riding as long as you have a groom with you."
Relief infused her. "Thank the Goddess for that! I've missed riding so much. The last few times I rode–to see you when you were sick, and to Magh Eamhainn–were not exactly pleasure trips. I would love to ride just for the sheer joy of it." She ate with more gusto now, chewing on the almonds and dipping her spoon into the steamed broccoli.
He drained his wine glass. "Very well, I'll make arrangements with my most trusted groom, but only south of here. I don't want you riding in the direction of Moytura."
She sighed, already missing the sights and sounds of the capital but accepting Gaderian's admonitions. Hungrier than she'd thought possible, she cleaned her plate. If she didn't watch out, she'd gain weight during her residence here. Residence. The word taunted her. Was her time in Gaderian's home to be only temporary? Would he soon tire of her and ask her to move out? No, she knew Gaderian better than that, knew he was sincere in asking her to live with him. Yet she still questioned her chance for a happy future with a man who lived by night and slept by day.
He glanced at her plate. "Dessert, if you like."
She placed her hand on her stomach. "No, thank you. I've had enough of a very good meal."
He shoved his chair back and rose to hold hers, then drew her into his arms. His strong arms felt so good around her, his love an anchor and a lifeline for the troubles that surely stretched ahead.
"I must leave you for a while," he whispered against her cheek.
"Already?" She looked up into his face and saw all the dear features that meant so much to her, his straight nose and firm mouth, those dark eyes whose gaze held such love for her. Questions still swirled around in her mind, of what lay in store for her, living with him, of what kind of agreement they could ever reach, if he wanted her as his wife.
"Must see Cedric to explain your absence and compensate him for the loss of your service." He ran his tongue along his lower lip. "Also, need to see what–if anything–I can find out about Angus Kendall. Don't worry, I'll be discreet," he said when he saw her frown. "But we need to know."
"Yes, of course, I should have realized you'd need to talk to Cedric." She wrapped her arms around his back and rested her cheeks against his shoulder, then leaned back to stare into his eyes, wishing she could read his mind, fathom the secrets hidden there.
Gentle fingers caressed her cheeks, easing strands of hair from her face. He looked long and fully into her eyes, as if he could never get his fill of her. He held her ever closer, their bodies molded as one, leaving her with no doubt of the passion that lurked within him, a passion that matched hers. His kiss was long and hard, his arms tight bands of steel. Ah, she wished the kiss would go on and on, that he didn't have to leave her this night. She wanted more than just his kisses and caresses, ached to have him inside her. Let him think she was a wanton; she didn't care.
He cupped her buttocks and held her against him until she thought she couldn't take another moment of this sweet torture, a torment that sent a rush of heat to every nerve ending in her body. She feathered kisses on his mouth and cheeks, then up to his forehead, and down to his mouth again.
"My darling!" He drew away and stood still for silent moments, his eyes closed, breathing deeply. Then he opened his eyes and looked down at her. "If I stay any longer, I'll never be able to ride to Moytura." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'll be back later," he murmured in his husky voice. "Wait up for me, if you can."
"I'll count the minutes."
He was gone then, leaving her alone and throbbing for more.
* * *
Later that night, Fianna sat at her dresser, brushing her hair until it shone. Clad in her white cotton long-sleeved nightgown, she wondered when Gaderian would return, for he had been gone for hours. She'd spent the intervening time exploring the house, especially the Treasury of Knowledge, looking forward to the next day, when she would have enough light for reading. The two oil lamps emitted insufficient light.
A light tapping on the door jarred her from her musings. She set her brush down and turned toward the door, her heart beating faster, an anticipation of she knew not what.
Gaderian stepped inside, a hesitant look on his face. "I wasn't sure if you'd still be awake." He wore a crimson silk tunic with a silver chain belt, and black trousers, with leather boots just past his ankles. His dark hair tousled, he was as handsome as ever, with his regular features, those dark eyes, and his sinewy, athletic build. Shoulders thrown back, he came toward her in that confident walk of his.
"Waiting for you," she said breathlessly, yet shyness colored her voice. She had no idea what to expect; she'd never lived with an unmarried man before. She eased the stool aside and went to him, her heart pounding each step of the way. Warmth rushed to her face and spread down to her toes.
He drew her hand to his chest, then bent low to kiss her palm, a look of wonder and adoration on his face. She gloried in his love, his devotion, for she had never known such a feeling as this, a sure knowledge that she would love this man until she died. But would he always love her?
Heat grew inside her, a yearning that suffused every part of her body and settled in her most private part, a sensation so new and overwhelming she feared her legs would give out under her.
He released her hand and stepped back. "I paid Cedric an ample amount." She won
dered if his shyness matched hers, but surely not. He must be used to women, she thought, a handsome man such as he, who has known many women throughout the centuries. "Cedric misses you. Everyone at the tavern does."
"And I miss them, not that I regret coming here," she said hastily when she saw the question in his eyes. She wondered why they were discussing such mundane things, for surely he wanted her as much as she wanted him. "And Angus?" She held her breath.
"Haven't seen him, which doesn't mean he's gone. No, I don't expect him to give up so easily." He made an impatient sound, then crushed her to him. "Ah, Fianna, do you have any idea of how much I want you?"
"Um, I think I do," she said teasingly. She feathered kisses on his neck and earlobe and on to his cheeks. Their lips met in a long, lingering kiss, her arms around his neck, her body enclosed in his tight embrace.
Releasing her, he indicated a long bench that sat beneath her window. "We must talk," he said in his deep voice. His arm around her waist, he led her to the bench, where they sat down, side by side.
He turned away for a moment, resting his hands on his thighs, then turned toward her again. "There's something I've thought about for a long time, far longer than you know." He paused.
"Yes?" If her heart pounded any harder, she feared it would burst from her body.
He spoke in a rush. "Surely you know I want to marry you."
"You do?" Pure happiness engulfed her, a never-ending cascade of dreams and wishes, of deep desires and things she could only imagine.
He slipped his arm around her waist, his fingers playing across her back. He looked deeply into her eyes, as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. "But do you want to join your life with one such as I, who lives by night and sleeps by day? Who must gain sustenance from the blood of others? These are factors we must discuss."
Avador Book 2, Night Shadows Page 20
