At Twilight
Page 10
fingers.
“It’s French, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Your accent.”
“I wasn’t aware I had one.”
God, she was beautiful.
Her eyes in the moonlight seemed luminous, and he noticed again the
thickness of the lashes surrounding them.
“It’s very slight. I barely notice it myself. I’ve been trying to
place it. Am I right?”
He nodded.
“I was born in France.”
“Where?”
He smiled down at her, amazed that she even cared to ask.
“Paris. I haven’t been back there in… years.”
“You sound as if you’d like to go, though,” she said, studying his
face.
“Why haven’t you?”
“Bad memories, I suppose. My father was murdered there. I nearly
suffered the same fate, save for the intervention of a good friend.”
He saw her eyes widen.
He’d vowed to be as honest with her as he could without giving away the
secret.
He wanted her to feel she knew him.
Her hand clutched his upper arm more tightly.
“That’s horrible.”
He nodded.
“But a long time past, Tamara. I’m recovered.”
“Are you sure?”
He met her intense scrutiny.
“Have you talked it out with someone, Eric? These things have a way of
festering.”
He tilted his head, considering his words.
“It was… political.
and utterly senseless.
It left me without any family at all, and if not for Roland, I’d have
been without a friend, as well.
” He looked down to see her listening raptly.
“I never had many to begin with, you see. I always felt separate—set
apart from my peers.”
“You didn’t fit in. I know exactly what you mean.”
He looked deeply into her eyes.
“Yes, I imagine you do.”
“Tell me about your friend.
Do you still keep in touch?
” He chuckled.
“It is sometimes a long time between letters, or visits. But Roland
happens to be staying with me at the moment.”
Her head came up, eyes eager.
“Could I meet him?”
He frowned.
“Why would you want to?”
She had to give her answer a long moment’s thought before speaking
it.
“You… said he saved your life. I…”
Her gaze fell to her hand, resting on her knee.
“I’d like to thank him.”
Eric closed his eyes at the warmth her words sent through his heart.
“He’s a recluse. Perhaps I can arrange it, though. Unlike me, he
still has a residence in France, though he rarely lives there. He owns
a sprawling medieval castle in the Loire Valley. He hid me there for a
time after we fled Paris.”
When he glanced at her again it was to find her gaze affixed to his
face as it had been through most of the ride.
“You are a fascinating man,” she whispered.
“I am a simple man, with simple tastes.”
“I’d love to see your home.”
“Another time, perhaps. If I took you there while my reclusive friend
was in residence, he’d likely throttle me.”
He slipped his arm around the back of the seat, and squeezed her to his
side.
“It is furnished almost exclusively in antiques.
Electric lighting is there, of course, but I seldom use it.
I prefer the muted glow of oil lamps to the harsh glare of those white
bulbs, except in my laboratory.
” “You’re a scientist?”
“I dabble in a few projects that interest me.”
Her lovely eyes narrowed.
“You are being modest, I think.”
He shrugged, gave a tug on the reins to stop their progress and reached
beneath the seat for the thermos he’d brought along.
“You told me once, a very long time ago, that your favorite beverage
was hot chocolate. Is it still the case?” For the first time in years
Tamara felt completely at ease with another person. The hours of the
night flew past almost without her knowledge. They talked incessantly,
touching on every subject imaginable, from music and art to politics.
He fascinated her, and the more she learned about him the more she
wanted to know.
Through it all she was constantly aware of the physical attraction
that zapped between them.
She’d deliberately sat close to him, so her body touched his.
She liked touching him, so much so that she felt cold and alone when
they hit a rough spot in the road and she was jarred away from his
side.
Without hesitation she resumed her former position.
He seemed to share her need to feel her close.
He touched her often.
He kept his hard arm around her, managing the reins with one hand.
When they passed beneath an overhanging branch and a handful of snow
dusted her, he stopped the sleigh and turned to brush it away from her
shoulders and her hair.
Their eyes met, and she felt the irresistible pull of him.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers with infinite
tenderness.
He held himself in check, though.
She sensed his forced restraint and knew he was determined to go slowly
with her.
to give her time to adjust to what was happening between them.
She wondered exactly what was happening between them.
She knew that it was intense, and that it was real.
She knew that she’d never felt this way toward another human being in
her life.
And she knew that whatever it was, she didn’t want it to end.
She wanted to tell him so, but didn’t quite know how.
He left the sleigh in the same spot near the end of the driveway when
they returned to the house.
He walked her to the door, and stopped as she fit her key into the
lock.
Her heart twisted painfully at the thought of leaving him.
The lock released, but she didn’t open the door.
She turned and gazed up at him, wondering if he knew.
“I’d like to see you again,” she said, suddenly shy and awkward with
him, which seemed strange considering all that had passed between them
before.
“I think it would be impossible for me to go a night without seeing
you, Tamara,” he told her.
“I will come to you again… do not doubt it.”
She bit her lower lip, searching his face.
“I’m a grown woman. It’s silly to have to sneak around this way. You
know you could end this foolish notion Daniel has about you, if you
wanted to. Just come to the house during the day. He’d have to
realize then” — “He would only assume I had some protection against
the daylight, sweet.
Nothing can change his opinion of me.”
He looked away from her briefly.
“I have my own schedule—one that is vital to me. Should I alter that
to accommodate the whims of a man determined to persecute me?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that!”
She sighed, feeling deflated.
“It’s just that I hate deceivi
ng him.”
“If you tell him you’re seeing me, Tamara, he’ll find a way to prevent
it.”
She met his gaze again, and saw the hint of impatience vanish as he
regarded her.
“Let me amend that. He would try to find a way. He would not
succeed.”
She believed that he meant it.
“I’m glad you said that,” she admitted.
She knew he would kiss her.
She saw the heat come into his luminous eyes in the instant before his
arms imprisoned her waist.
Her lips parted as his descended.
The restraint he’d shown earlier dissolved the instant her arms
encircled his corded neck and her body pressed to his.
His lips quivered as they covered hers, and she accepted his probing
tongue enthusiastically.
Even with her heavy coat between them she was aware of the heat of him
touching her, as if his hands touched her naked skin.
He explored her mouth, and his fingers moved lightly over her nape,
sending exquisite shivers down her spine.
She’d experimented with sex.
In college, though she’d lived at home at Daniel’s insistence, there
had been plenty of opportunities and no shortage of eager tutors.
Her times with men had been few, though, and inspired more by curiosity
than passion.
Tonight, with Eric, she wanted it.
A hunger like nothing she’d known existed made a cavern inside her a
vast emptiness that only he could fill.
It gnawed at her mercilessly, and the longing made her groan deep in
her throat.
He straightened, and she knew he saw the need in her eyes.
His own closed as if he were in pain, and his arms fell away from
her.
“I must go,” he rasped.
He reached past her and threw the door wide.
There was no tenderness in his touch when he pushed her through it.
She felt tears stinging her eyes when he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER SIX At 7:00 a.
m.
she sat across the table from Daniel, nursing a strong cup of coffee
and a pounding headache.
“It’s probably just a bug,” she repeated.
“I’m tired and achy. I’ll spend the day in bed and be myself again by
tomorrow morning.”
His lips thinned and he shook his head.
“I’ll call in, make arrangements to work at home today. That way—” “
I don’t need a baby-sitter.
” “I didn’t say you did. I only think I should be here, in case—”
Tamara slammed the half-filled cup onto the table, sloshing coffee over
the rim, and got to her feet. ” Daniel, this has to stop.
” “What? Tam, I’m only concerned about you.”
“I know.”
She pushed a hand through her hair, wishing she could ease the
throbbing in her temples.
She felt like a wrung-out rag this morning, and in no shape for a
confrontation.
“I know it’s love that motivates you, Daniel—I know you care. But for
God’s sake, look at me. I’m not an orphaned little girl anymore.”
She kept her voice level, and moved around the table to press her hands
to his shoulders.
“You and Curtis are smothering me with all this concern. You hover
over me as if I’m Little Red Riding Hood and there are wolves behind
every tree.”
Daniel looked at the floor.
“Have we been that bad?”
“Worse.”
She squeezed his shoulders gently.
“But I love you, anyway.”
He met her gaze, and slowly shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Tam. It’s not that I think you need watching, like a
child.
It’s.
it’s this thing with Marquand, dammit.
I’m terrified he’ll try to see you again.
” She let her hands fall away from him, and straightened.
Eric had said he believed Daniel knew of the connection between them.
Could he have been right?
“Why would you think that?”
He sighed as if she were stupid.
“Tamara, you’re a beautiful woman! Curtis said the man was obviously
attracted that night at the rink. He’d have to have been blind not to
be.
These creatures have a sex drive like rutting animals.
Even one as old as he is.
” She turned away from him, trying not to laugh.
Eric was not a “creature,” nor was he old.
The skin of his face was smooth and tight.
He moved with a grace beyond anything she’d seen before, and yet his
strength was obvious.
His body rippled with hard muscles and kinetic energy.
Shaking her head, she reached for her coffee.
“Just how old is he?
” “Two hundred and thirty something. I’ve traced him to the French
Revolution, when he was imprisoned and should have been beheaded in
Paris.
His father was, you know.”
Tamara had lifted her cup to her lips, but now she choked on the sip
she’d taken.
Eric had told her his father was murdered in Paris!
He’d said it was “political.”
My God, could Daniel possibly be right—no.
No, that was utterly ridiculous.
But I’ve never seen Eric during the day.
She shoved the doubts aside.
This was nonsense.
Absolute nonsense.
“He’s dangerous. Tam. Clever as a wizard, too. I wouldn’t put it
past him to use you to get to me.
And he says you ‘re using me to get to him, she thought.
Aloud, she only said,
“I’d never let that happen.”
“I know. Tam. But promise you’ll tell me if he tries to make
contact. We have to be careful. He’s evil” — “Yes, you’ve told me.
He’s the devil himself. Okay, I’ll let you know. Happy?”
He studied her face before he nodded.
“Go to work,” she told him playfully.
“He can’t bother me during the day, right?”
She tried not to let his words replay in her mind, over and over again
all morning.
She only wanted to go back to bed and get some much-needed rest.
That was impossible to do, though.
She supposed she wouldn’t act so impulsively if she’d had a decent
amount of sleep in the past several weeks.
If she’d been in a normal, relatively sane frame of mind, nothing could
have convinced her to do what she suddenly decided she must do.
Unfortunately, her sanity was in question, and she thought if she
didn’t answer the questions in her mind once and for all, it would slip
away from her completely.
She had to prove to herself that Eric Marquand was not a vampire.
She thought that made about as much sense as trying to prove the earth
was not flat, or that the moon was not made of green cheese.
Yet several hours later she sat in her pathetic excuse for a car
alongside the road in front of Eric Marquand’s estate.
She glanced at her watch.
Only an hour or so left before sunset.
Part of her wanted to put this off until tomorrow.
Part of her wanted to put it off permanently.
Still, she was here, and she k
new if she didn’t go through with this
now, she never would.
Getting the address hadn’t been easy.
She couldn’t possibly have asked Daniel or Curt without sending them
both into hysterics.
She couldn’t show up at work and tap the DPI computers.
Her security clearance wasn’t high enough to get her the correct access
codes.
She’d spent most of the day at the county seat, scouring the records
deemed “public domain.”
She’d struck out on birth certificates.
He didn’t seem to have a driver’s license, or a car registered in his
name.
He did, however, have a deed to his home.
She found the information she needed in the property tax files.
His address was there, and she frowned to note it was only a few miles
southeast of Daniel’s house, on the northern shore of the sound.
She’d spent the entire drive back arguing with herself.
Was she about to shore up her sanity, or had it already been buried in
an avalanche?
Would any sane person visit a man’s home during the day to prove he
wasn’t a vampire?
Too late now, she thought, pulling her car around a bend in the road
and easing it close to the wood lot on the opposite side.
I’m here and I’m going in.
She left the keys in the switch, and walked back to the towering
wrought-iron gate.
She peered between the bars and the crisscrossing pattern of vines and
leaves writhing between them, all made of flattened metal.
The pattern was the same as far as she could see in either direction.
Beyond the fence a cobblestone driveway twisted its way toward the
house.
Huge trees lined the driveway, so she had to move around a bit to get a
glimpse of the building beyond them.
When she did she caught her breath.
The house towered at least three stories high.
It was built of roughhewn stone blocks, each one too big for three men
to lift.
The windows—at least, the ones she could see—were arched at the tops,
and deep set.
They reminded her of hooded eyes, watching but not wishing to be
seen.
She touched the gate and at the same instant noticed the small metal
box affixed to a post just inside.
A tiny red light flashed in sync with her pulse.
This was no antique fence, but a high-tech security device.
She drew her hand away fast, wondering how many alarms she’d set off
simply by touching it.
She waited and watched.
No sound or movement came from within.
When she could breathe again she glanced up.