by Ranae Rose
He took a single step toward her, eliminating all but an inch of the space between their bodies. His breath stirred her hair, which was loose around her shoulders, and he clasped one of her hands in his. Intensity flared in his dark eyes, and for a moment she thought he meant to lower her onto the bed and take her. It would have been easy enough – she was wearing a thin silk robe she’d never seen before, and the slide of the sensuous material against her skin let her know she was naked beneath it. The revelation sent a fresh pang of desire through her. “Now I finish the deed,” he said. “Now I make you my wife.”
The skin between Elsie’s thighs tingled, though she knew it wasn’t the physical act of consummation he referred to. That had been done thoroughly, but they had yet to be married.
“Time is of the essence,” he said. “We will exchange our vows today.”
Vows. Elsie’s knees threatened to wobble, and only knowledge of her new strength gave her the power to keep them steady. To think that Damon Remington – quite literally the man of her dreams – was looking at her with such intensity, telling her that they needed to marry as soon as possible… “Today?” she breathed, forgetting her arousal for a moment. “Is there time?”
“I have everything ready: an ordinary license from a bishop, a gown…” He turned on his heel, picking up the lantern again while still holding her hand.
She let him pull her along, taking in the features of the room as the soft yellow light revealed them so clearly that the lamp might as well have been a miniature sun. Not only could she see again, but her vision was better than it had ever been. The modest light the lantern put off revealed as much to her healed eyes as daylight would have before. “We’re in your bedroom!” she gasped, stumbling when she saw the painted dressing screen she’d collapsed behind.
He nodded as he steadied her with a confident hand and strolled forward, pulling her in his wake. “Of course we are.”
“I thought we were still in London.”
“Then you don’t remember. I brought you here after I began the transformation, after we finished making love.” His grip on her hand tightened for a moment, as if his body was just as susceptible to memories of their joining as hers was.
“In the carriage?” She frowned as she remembered the state of her dress, torn from the neckline nearly to her navel. “Whatever did the driver think?”
“On horseback,” he corrected her. “I held you in front of me, in the saddle.” He smiled faintly at her over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I covered you with my coat.”
“I don’t remember anything from last night – at least, not after you bit me,” she said, searching her mind for some bit of memory of being held tight against his chest, bathed in moonlight as the horse rocked beneath her. None came.
“Not last night. Three days have passed since we left London.”
Elsie stopped in her tracks, which was just as well, because Damon had stopped too. “Three days? I’ve been asleep all that time?”
“Yes. It takes time for a body to undergo such a drastic transformation. That’s why I changed you in the garden back in London instead of waiting to bring you here. I wanted it done as soon as possible.” He squeezed her hand again, fixing her with a look that made the breath catch in her lungs. “And now we must marry immediately, before anyone finds out what I’ve done. Here, what do you think?”
Elsie stifled a gasp as he swung the lantern, illuminating a white gown that hung in an open wardrobe. Long, pristine and trimmed with lace at the sleeves and low neckline, it looked elegant and expensive. A wide silk ribbon, also perfectly white, tied below the bust. Tiny pearl buttons ran in a neat line down the middle, more for show than function. “You mean for me to wear this?”
“If it’s to your satisfaction.”
“Of course it is. It’s beautiful.” It was far more decadent than anything she’d ever worn.
“Excellent. I borrowed it from my sister.”
“It’s not her wedding gown, is it?” Elsie was suddenly cautious. “I would never dream of taking the dress she intends to wear on her wedding day.” Lucinda wasn’t engaged – at least not to the best of Elsie’s knowledge – but the dress was so fine, it hardly looked like something that had been designed for mere everyday wear.
Damon shook his head with a dismissive snort that was somewhere close to laughter. “No. She has no plans to be married, though she has a distinct fondness for fine dresses, especially white and blue ones. I think she intends to have a thousand such gowns made, to be sure she knows what she wants to wear when she finally marries someday. But don’t say anything about it to her – she would never admit it.”
“I won’t,” Elsie agreed as she took the dress out of the wardrobe, reverently caressing the lace.
“You two appear to be roughly the same size. I think this will fit, but if it doesn’t we can try another.” He took it from her hands and held it aloft, as if waiting for her to do something.
Fighting down a wave of nervousness, Elsie realized he was waiting for her to undress. Though her thin robe left little to the imagination, a thrill of daring shot through her as she grasped the belt and prepared to pull it undone. Perhaps it was silly after the way they’d made love the night before, but she couldn’t imagine ever undressing in front of him and not feeling the vaguely naughty wave of excitement. She tugged on the ties and the neck loosened, gaping open to expose a generous portion of cleavage. Considering the way her nipples peaked against the thin fabric, she might as well have bared her breasts entirely. “I’ll need undergarments,” she said, pausing.
“I borrowed a clean chemise for you.” He lifted an airy garment from the wardrobe.
She eyed the nearly diaphanous shift and nodded, swallowing a comment on the sparseness of the fine undergarment as she finally opened her robe.
He eyed her from head to toe, taking his time as his gaze traveled over her naked body. Her nipples hardened as she remembered the press of his mouth against them, and her channel began to dampen, tightening in memory of being filled by him. He was dressed in pantaloons and a clean white shirt, but one look below his waist confirmed his desire. The outline of his rigid cock sent a wave of clenching longing through her, fueled by vivid recollections of their joining.
With a wistful sigh, he surrendered the delicate chemise. “You had better put this on. Though I am not quite human, I am no less susceptible to your beauty than a normal man, and it has been three long days.”
A pleasure that had nothing to do with physical sensations flared within Elsie as she took the garment and pulled it over her head. When she’d finished, her eyes met his again for half a moment before his gaze plunged below to her breasts. Her nipples showed clearly through the fabric, and if the ghost of a growl that rose from his throat was any indication, they were perhaps more of a temptation now than they had been before. “Help me into the dress,” she said, reaching out to touch one of its lacy sleeves.
He helped her into the gown with admirable restraint, pausing to caress the curves of her hips for only a moment before beginning to do up her buttons. When he finished he laid his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You look beautiful.” He brushed her mouth with a light kiss that smacked of restraint. “My bride.”
****
“Close your eyes.” Damon held Elsie’s head in his lap, smoothing a stray curl off her temple.
She nodded, despite the fact that she’d squeezed her eyes shut almost as soon as they’d climbed into the carriage. Doing so had done little to ease the pain that throbbed between them. The horses were moving at a brisk clip, and every bump in the road sent a fresh wave of misery rolling beneath her skull. “Is it always like this?” she asked. Back in the bedroom, she’d felt energized and refreshed. Now she felt weak and sickly, and her teeth had become blunt and ordinary once again.
“It won’t always be as intense,” Damon replied, smoothing her hair. “It’s not our nature to be out and about during the daytime, and the sunlig
ht weakens our bodies. The good news is that the more our bodies are exposed to it, the more used to it they become – to an extent, anyway. Your head will always ache when you’re exposed to the sun, but in time it will become no more than a dull pain.”
Elsie pressed her fingertips against her temples in a desperate attempt to quell the agony. She’d thought it strange when Damon had guided her through his darkened room with a lantern, neglecting to open the thick curtains, but she’d understood his actions as soon as they’d left the dark sanctuary. “You and your family, how can you all bear it? You often go out during the daytime.”
“We must, to conduct business and to maintain the appearance of normality. But we are used to the light, as you will soon be. Here, let me do that.” He gently pried her hands from the sides of her head and began to steadily massage her temples.
She moaned faintly into his lap. His touch was so much more soothing than her own.
“We’re almost there,” he assured her. “Will you be able to walk into the church?”
“Yes.” A fierce determination welled in her heart, as sudden as it was strong. A small army would be hard-pressed to stop her from making her way to the altar, excruciating headache or no. Her eagerness wasn’t due to fear for her safety, as Damon’s was, but excitement. Only a few weeks ago, she never would have dared to so much as daydream about becoming Damon’s bride. Even her wildest fantasies had only featured a tumble with him in an empty bedroom, nothing more. Butterflies burst into flight inside her stomach each time she considered the secret torch Damon had carried for her all along – a hidden passion to match her own. The fact that their unlikely love was about to be set in stone made her feel as if she might burst at the seams. For a moment, she even forgot her pain.
“Here we are.” The carriage rolled to a decidedly sudden halt, and the horses’ stamping hooves rang against cobblestone as they snorted. Damon lifted Elsie’s bonnet from the seat and placed it on her head, tying the ribbon beneath her chin.
Damon took her by the hand and helped her out of the carriage. Peering out from beneath the wide brim of her bonnet, which Damon had adorned with rosettes cut from the bushes in the garden, she focused on her pale skirts, which rustled around her feet as she stepped to the ground. Her headache throbbed against the inside of her skull, but couldn’t quell her giddy excitement, which was mounting with every step. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to have picked up on her mood and launched themselves into acrobatics. Damon’s strong but gentle grip on her arm helped to keep her grounded in reality – however dream-like it seemed – as they climbed a set of stone steps and glided through a gracefully arched doorway.
The interior of the modestly sized church was blissfully dim in comparison to the sunny morning outdoors. What light managed to permeate the building streamed through stained glass windows, the colorful panes of which dulled the glare and cast a pleasant patchwork of illumination across the pews. Elsie’s headache ebbed a bit as she surveyed her surroundings, which were empty save for a middle-aged priest who seemed to be waiting for them. No doubt Damon’s money had ensured that the man would be ready and the facility otherwise empty, just as it had ensured that no one questioned Elsie’s age – not that she had parents to approve her marriage, under twenty-one or no.
The driver and the footman followed behind the couple – the two required witnesses. Though they were respectfully silent, Elsie wasn’t completely sure that Damon had in fact told them the exact nature of their roles. But if they didn’t know already, they would soon enough. With a peculiar feeling that rested somewhere between solemnity and unhampered joy, Elsie stopped at the priest’s left side, opposite of Damon, who stood at the man’s right hand.
With a wordless nod, the clergyman plunged into the ceremony, speaking in a practiced monotone that hid any curiosity or sense of surprise he might have felt. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocence…”
Elsie let the steady hum of the priest’s words wash over her as she looked away from him and to Damon. His gaze locked with hers, dark and intense, the same look that had originally caused her to sigh after passing him in hallways and fantasize about his touch as she drifted to sleep, alone in her narrow maid’s bed at night. She couldn’t help but think back to the breathless turning-point that had set this seemingly fated paring in motion… Images and sounds remembered from her time behind the dressing screen tumbled through her mind as the priest continued to recite the ceremonial words that would bind her and Damon together forever. A glimmer passed through Damon’s black gaze, and she wondered if he somehow knew her thoughts. Was he as glad as she was that they’d been brought together by the set of decidedly unconventional circumstances that’d spanned the past seven years? As hopeless as life had seemed when she’d been a newly-bereaved girl, she couldn’t bring herself to regret that she’d ended up at the altar with Damon.
Elsie’s thoughts were interrupted by the realization that the ceremony seemed to rapidly be approaching the point where she and Damon would give their vows. “…I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed…” Both were silent when the time came to confess any reasons why they should not marry. In what seemed less than the span of a heartbeat, the priest was asking Damon whether he would have Elsie as his wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy state of matrimony.
“I will.” Elsie stood still and rapt as Damon promised, with just two words, to love, comfort and honor her, regardless of sickness or health, and lastly to remain faithful to her as long as they both lived. Considering their immortality, the promise held a private weight that Elsie was supremely aware of. She didn’t doubt Damon’s ability or intention to keep it though, not for a second. After all, he’d already shown her more love and comfort than she’d ever expected to know from any man, and had become her personal savior when he’d healed her deadly illness.
“I will,” she echoed when the priest asked her to make a similar promise.
Damon must have spoken to their two unusual witnesses after all, for the footman stepped up rather gallantly to assume the roll of giving Elsie away to Damon. Though he was a servant, he was very handsome, and dressed unusually well. Elsie fought a grin at the sight of his proud face, and the tiny winged creatures in her middle burst into frenzied flight again. The minister received her and Damon’s hands, and then proceeded to give them over to each other.
One after the other, they swore to act as a man and wife should until death did them part – which would hopefully be never.
Finally loosing hands, Damon slid a golden band onto Elsie’s fourth finger at the minister’s cue. The metal felt surprisingly warm against her skin, perhaps because of what it meant. Damon’s eyes gleamed as he spoke, warmer than the precious metal. “With this this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Chapter 10
“Is this more blood?” Elsie eyed the tea tray speculatively from where she sat on the edge of Damon’s bed, safely returned to the darkness of the curtained bedchamber. They hadn’t lingered at the church, but departed as soon as they were legally married. She still wore the wedding gown.
“No,” Damon replied, pouring from the fine china pot. “It’s real tea this time.” Wisps of steam rose from the delicate cup, evidencing his claim. “You’ve tried this before. Lucy discovered it – it helps with the headaches.”
She took the cup and sipped the herbal mixture as Damon poured one for himself. “You’ll feel better soon, between the darkness and the tea.”
And what then? A shiver ran down her spine, causing her nipples to harden against the thin fabric of her dress and shift. It wasn’t night yet, but they
’d just been married, and they were alone in the bedroom. Remembering the look in his eyes when he’d helped her to dress for the ceremony, she wanted to believe that they’d make love again when the tea was gone. But would they? She realized for the first time that she had no idea what being Mrs. Damon Remington entailed. Damon hadn’t said what would come after the ceremony. Now that she was safe – now that she was his – uncertainty that had been temporarily suspended by urgency came crashing back down around her again.
“Would you like more?” Damon stood poised over the tray, not joining her on the edge of the bed as he drank.
Elsie let him take her cup. Warmth flared throughout her being when his fingertips brushed hers, negotiating the perfectly curved bone china.
She probably didn’t need the second cup of tea. Already, her headache had subsided to a dull pain she hardly noticed, occupied by thought as she was. She drank it anyway, mulling over who she’d become in the eyes of God and the Church of England, and what that meant. “No thank you,” she said when Damon offered to fill her cup again. “I feel much better.”
He carefully lowered the painted pot back onto the silver tray. “Let me help you with your buttons then.”
She turned, putting her back to him as he sank onto the edge of the bed. Her stomach fluttered as his fingers settled on a button, brushing her spine as it came undone. Did he mean to make love to her, or only to take back the gown he’d borrowed from his sister, assumedly without her knowledge? Her nipples were hopelessly stiff against the delicate fabric, and her core ached for him when she thought of their joining three days before. Remembering his passion then, she felt stupid for doubting his intentions now. However foreign her new role as his wife seemed, there was at least one duty that she understood and looked forward to fulfilling. With the buttons halfway undone, Damon slipped a hand beneath the silk and reached around her side to cup one breast. She moaned in a combination of desire and relief – it felt good to be sure of what he expected of her, at least for the next hour or so.
