by Brooklyn Ann
He nodded.
“And does my uncle know that Madame Renarde and I have been abducted by another vampire?” she prodded.
“No.” Rhys said with a satisfied smirk. “And that is probably why he’d rather try to hunt me down than simply pay the ransom. He thinks he is dealing with a human, thus his pride prevents him from allowing me to win.”
Madame Renarde coughed again. “Then this is your trump card. Letting Lord Thornton know that his foe is on equal footing. But if he has the same abilities as you do, why are you so confident that he won’t find you?”
“That danger will increase once he is apprised of what I am,” Rhys allowed, sipping his tea. “However, we are quite far from Blackpool, for one thing, and for another, Lord Vampires encounter difficulty travelling because they must secure permission as well as hunting rights from the Lord of each territory he passes through.”
“What if he were to send one of his subordinates?” Madame Renarde asked, then blew her nose with her handkerchief.
Rhys shrugged. “He would still have to ask permission for their passage.”
“And who was your Lord Vampire to grant you permission to travel to Lord Thornton’s territory and abduct his kin?”
Rhys’s eyes widened and Madame Renarde smirked. “Ah, you do not have a lord, do you? You’re an outlaw even with your own kind.”
Had Rhys’s visitors the other night been outlaw vampires as well? While Vivian was certain that information would prove to be useful, another matter had her confused. “How is Uncle to learn that you’re a vampire? Are you going to send him another letter?”
“Sending him a letter by post would have been ideal, though I would have to take care with the language in case it fell into the wrong hands.” Rhys leaned back on his cot and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You will write something, but I’m afraid the method of delivery will be different.”
He was dallying, trying to draw out his words. Vivian’s father did the same thing any time he had to deliver unpleasant news. “And what method will that be?”
The vampire heaved a sigh. “I am sending Madame Renarde back to Blackpool.”
“What?” Madame Renarde’s face went white as talcum powder as she set down her teacup. “You can’t!”
“I have to,” he said. “You’re falling ill. I don’t know if you feel it yet, but you have a fever. I can smell it. I will not be responsible for your death.”
Madame Renarde did look feverish, Vivian realized. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks ruddy, and beads of sweat gathered on her forehead.
Madame Renarde crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I cannot leave Vivian alone with you! That would mean I failed in my duties.”
“You’ll fail if you die,” Rhys replied bluntly. Apparently, he was done prevaricating. “If it will reassure you, Lord Thornton will be concerned about other matters than Miss Stratford’s virtue when you tell him what I am.”
Vivian remembered something else he’d said: Just because I do not wish to sever your finger does not mean that I am incapable of doing other things that would horrify your uncle and that you would doubtless find unpleasant. “Are you talking about draining my blood or turning me into a vampire?”
“The latter, of course,” Rhys said. “It takes effort to drain a human, for one thing. For another, your uncle should rightly assume that I won’t kill my hostage.”
Before Vivian could recover from that gruesome information, Madame Renarde leapt back into her previous bone of contention. “And what if I am concerned with her virtue?”
Heat rose to Vivian’s cheeks as she relived their almost-kiss before the duel, but Rhys seemed unaffected. “I’m a monster, but not one who ravishes maidens against their will. And now that Miss Stratford knows that I’m a monster, I don’t think she will be in a hurry to welcome my touch.”
Vivian nodded, more to reassure her companion than out of confidence in Rhys’s words. Though she truly should be revolted at the thought of a vampire touching her. Any normal woman would be. Yet this was still Rhys. The man who’d captured her dreams with his kiss, the man who was trying to save his family’s farm while doing as little harm as possible. The man who’d laughed with her, taught her foul language, and did everything he could to see to her comfort.
She couldn’t help but notice that he emphasized two terms to place distance between them. He called himself a monster, and for once bowed to propriety in referring to her as Miss Stratford. Was he fighting the attraction as badly as she was?
Yes, she may be in danger to succumbing to his charms should he decide to work them on her. And the thought of being alone with him in this cave for lord knew how many nights did set her heart to pounding in a most improper manner. This was the first time she’d felt any stirrings with a male, the first time when a chaperone could be needed for her own good.
But Madame Renarde was ill. Damp climates never agreed with her, and Vivian had never heard such an ugly cough. There was no question, Madame Renarde must return to Thornton Manor, where her uncle could summon a doctor.
“No,” Madame Renarde said, as if reading Vivian’s thoughts. “I must stay.”
Vivian realized there was another facet in her friend’s stubborn refusal to leave. Madame Renarde did not allow doctors to examine her, lest her secret be discovered.
With that in mind, Vivian reached over and took her friend’s hand, squeezing her palm in reassurance. “If you need treatment, my uncle will have to find a doctor who is discreet. After all, he has a bigger secret for you to hold over him.”
Madame Renarde looked so hopeful that it was heartbreaking. “Do you truly think so?”
“I am,” Vivian said with genuine confidence. “If he’s survived so long as a vampire in the nobility without being found out, he must be well-versed in discretion.”
Rhys nodded. “She’s right,” he said softly.
Hope gleamed in Madame Renarde’s pale eyes, but her lips twisted in a frown. “What if he kills me or throws me out?”
Before Vivian could respond, Rhys spoke. “For the most part, it is illegal for a vampire to kill a human. Furthermore, although I will ensure that you do not know where this cave is, you have enough information for Blackpool—er—Lord Thornton for him to find it prudent to keep you healthy and safe.”
Madame Renarde opened her mouth, whether to agree or to argue, they never found out, for she doubled over with another fit of coughing.
Rhys patted her back with a sympathetic frown and then took her teacup. “I’m going to give you some laudanum. It helps with coughing too.” He fetched his brown bottle and poured a few drops into the tea. Then he went to the basket containing the fruit he’d stolen a few nights ago, took a lemon, then sliced it, adding a segment to the tea. After he added a large dollop of honey, he handed her the cup. “The lemon and honey will mask the laudanum and ease the pain in your throat. Now drink up, for you need to rest for our journey.”
Vivian’s heart clenched at Rhys’s tender care for her friend. Her body warmed all over as she realized that he would treat her with the same gentle consideration, if she had fallen ill.
He may call himself a villain and a monster, but he acted like a hero. Vivian couldn’t stop pondering the contradiction.
Once Madame Renarde finished her tea and was bundled up in her cot, Rhys built the fire to a cheery blaze that chased away the remaining chill of the cave.
“Thank you for caring for her,” Vivian said softly as her companion’s snores echoed off the stone walls.
Rhys gave her a slight bow. “It is nothing. Now I need you to compose the letter for your uncle.” He rose and went to one of the shelves, fetching foolscap, quill, and ink.
When the writing implements were set before her, he dictated what he wanted her to write. Vivian fought to keep her hand from shaking as she penned the short missive, coded to inform Uncle Aldric that she knew what he was. Rhys didn’t want her to say any more than that, explaining that the conseque
nces of Aldric not paying the ransom were implied. Vivian added her own coded plea for her uncle to be discreet and merciful with Madame Renarde.
Rhys read the letter and nodded with satisfaction. “This will do. Now I must go out and feed before the sun rises. If I come across some food or goods that you may enjoy, I will fetch them for you.”
A laugh escaped Vivian’s lips, though it held a hysterical edge.
The vampire cocked his head to the side. “What is so amusing?”
“You’re going off to drink someone’s blood and collect sweets or fripperies on the way.” She shook her head. “I suppose it’s not amusing, but you must admit it sounds odd.”
“I suppose so.” He chuckled and started toward the door.
“Rhys?”
He turned. “Yes?”
“Do you hurt them, when you....?” She trailed off with embarrassment, not quite ready to describe his fangs sinking into someone’s neck. Her own flesh tingled at the memory of his bite.
His face contorted in what looked like pain, then he softened, regarding her with a long, almost tender stare. “No, I do not. Now you should sleep too. I extended our duel longer than I should have and you must be sore and exhausted.”
She was, and she ached all over from her exertions. Never had she pushed herself so much. She remembered wondering why Rhys barely seemed winded. Now she had her answer. Vampire. The word whispered in her mind as she watched Rhys walk out of the cave to seek his next victim. Though if it was true that he didn’t harm them, maybe victim wasn’t the right word.
Donor, perhaps?
With a long shake of her head, Vivian pulled down the bamboo privacy screen, shrugged out of her gown and into the oversized night shirt that Madame Renarde had laid out for her before the duel. Then she lay down on her bunk and stared at the shadows and dancing firelight across the screen.
Madame Renarde snored on. The laudanum had put her out like a lamb. Too bad Rhys hadn’t offered any to Vivian.
Sleep, Rhys had told her. Ha! How was she able to close her eyes after first learning that he was a vampire and her uncle was one as well? And then discovering that her best friend was ill? To top it all off, with Madame Renarde returning to Thornton Manor and informing Uncle Aldric that a rival of his kind held Vivian, and of all that had transpired, who knew how her uncle would react?
Which led to the most alarming realization that kept Vivian wide awake. After tomorrow night, she would be alone with Rhys, unchaperoned. Sleeping, bathing, eating, talking. All of those things would take on a different sort of intimacy, despite Rhys’s assurances to Madame Renarde.
Alone with a vampire. Her heart thudded beneath the blankets.
Rhys’s words earlier whispered in her mind: “...now that Miss Stratford knows that I’m a monster, I don’t think she will be in a hurry to welcome my touch.”
But was that true? Vivian recalled their kiss, then the times when he helped her mount the horse, the moment he pulled her against him to challenge her mocking his lack of villainy...and the closeness of their bodies as they’d dueled. Her belly fluttered as she relived each moment.
She wasn’t so certain.
Chapter Sixteen
Sleep came hard for Rhys. Vivian’s gaze had seared every inch of his body when he’d undressed to bathe. He hadn’t realized that the tub was set back far enough that it wasn’t hidden by the privacy screen. Had she seen... everything?
Lustful dreams plagued him whenever he managed to doze off. Even then, he was awakened constantly by Renarde’s coughing. Dusk had him sitting up with a groan and rubbing his eyes.
He lit the lantern and saw that Renarde had already risen and dressed. Vivian remained asleep, her heart a steady beat, her breathing an even rhythm. Should he awaken her? He supposed he should, so she could say goodbye to her companion. But what if she told Renarde that she’d seen him undress? He could well imagine the companion’s disapproval at that.
And then there was the constant reminder that when he returned from the journey, he and Vivian would be alone together.
Before he could speculate on the potential delights of that scenario, Rhys doused them with cold reality. He had to take Madame Renarde back to Thornton Manor tonight. Crossing territories was always dangerous, though as a rogue, he’d had many years of experience. But his progress would be slowed carrying a human.
And then there was the more alarming fact that Vivian would be completely alone. Fresh worries plagued him at that. What if another rogue vampire came by? Many would seek refuge with Rhys from time to time. Of course, if any had approached with Renarde watching over Vivian, it would have still been slim protection. He still worried that Andrew and Lucy, the fellow rogues who’d asked for refuge the other night, would gossip about Rhys’s human guest to the wrong ears.
Madame Renarde broke through his fruitless musings. “Can you discern if she has caught my illness? You were able to smell mine.”
Rhys nodded and carefully ducked beneath the bamboo curtain. The slumbering Vivian was a delightful sight, with the rise and fall of her breasts and her lush, parted lips. He bent down and the urge to kiss her ravaged him like a pack of lions. Restraining himself, he inhaled her scent. All he could detect was the sweat from last night’s sword play, smoke from the fire, and her intoxicating womanly scent that was unique to her alone.
Before temptation overtook his senses, Rhys ducked back out. “She smells healthy.”
“If that changes?” Renarde brought his attention back to more serious matters.
“I have ways of healing her,” he said. “But I did not want to risk them on you. Your affliction is deep in your lungs, but you knew that, didn’t you?”
Renarde nodded and muffled another ratcheting cough. “I’ve been stricken with pneumonia several times in my life. And I was a sickly child.”
Rhys’s heart constricted with sympathy. His mother had also suffered constant ailments of the lungs. “I hope you get well soon. I honestly mean that. Now bid your farewells to Miss Stratford.”
He gave them a few minutes of privacy to spare himself from witnessing feminine displays of emotion, but unfortunately, when he returned to the cave to collect Madame Renarde, he discovered the two in a tearful embrace that tugged at his hardened heart. Poor Vivian was clearly desolate at the prospect of losing her closest friend, and Madame Renarde’s brave front looked ready to crumble at any moment.
But Rhys would not have this unique woman’s death on his conscience. Just because he was a rogue vampire didn’t mean he lacked morals. “It is time,” he said firmly.
Madame Renarde accompanied him outside with her satchel. “Are we taking the horses?”
Rhys shook his head. “It will be faster if I carry you. I will have to blindfold you.”
Renarde nodded in comprehension. “So that I cannot lead Lord Thornton to your cave.”
“Precisely.” He tied a scarf around the companion’s eyes.
When he lifted Renarde, he noticed with a pang of alarm that the stout lady’s companion was quite a bit lighter than she’d been when he abducted her. He hoped he hadn’t waited too long in deciding to send her back. As he ran with his preternatural speed, he also worried about the toll the chill wind took on her.
Halfway to Blackpool, he stopped near an inn and removed Renarde’s blindfold. “We both need rest and sustenance.”
The companion nodded, her ashen countenance alarmed him. At the inn, Rhys ordered a cup of hot tea, soup, and a tot of brandy to warm her. While she ate, he found an easy meal in a shadowy corner, where a drunk dozed in a chair.
Although Rhys knew they should resume their journey, he wanted to give Renarde more time to warm her chilled bones.
“When did you realize that you were meant to be a female?” he asked.
Renarde laughed. “Everyone who knows my secret asks me, and Vivian is one of the only people I’ve told. But very well, since I know your secrets, you may as well hear some of mine.” She coughed and swallowed anoth
er spoonful of soup before she continued. “My father was a cruel, hard man. He wanted me to be the epitome of manhood, hard, unfeeling, and violent. Though I excelled in my fencing lessons, I failed in all other things. I loved poetry, music, and keeping the company of my mother, sisters, and female cousins. With them, I felt accepted for who I was.”
“Your father sounds like he was an ass,” Rhys said. He hadn’t been particularly close with his own, either.
“He was. The first time my father caught me trying to learn embroidery from my sister, he thrashed me soundly and then forced me to wear a dress for the rest of the day.” Madame Renarde smirked as if holding a secret triumph. “He thought I cried from the humiliation, but I cried because Mama was distraught over it. Dressing me as a girl became his preferred punishment for whenever I behaved in what he deemed a feminine manner. But something strange happened. I felt so much more comfortable in women’s clothing than in shirtwaists and breeches.”
Rhys suppressed a shudder at her father’s cruel punishment. If his father had forced him to dress like a girl, he would have despised it. He was glad that the cruel action backfired in Renarde’s case.
“During one such incident, my sister smuggled me out of my room while Papa went hunting for boar. She took me to her chamber and adorned my face most prettily with her paints, rogue, and kohl. Then she placed one of her powdered wigs on my head.” Renarde beamed at the memory. “She thought it was quite the lark, but when I looked in her mirror, I saw the beautiful maiden reflected before me and thought, ‘this is who I am supposed to be.’”
Rhys thought of how he’d felt when he first stood on the deck of a ship. Probably a poor comparison, but that was the closest he could come to relating.
Renarde continued her story. “We then went to call on one of her friends. My sister introduced me as her cousin, and we had a lovely time. Never had I felt so natural and free.” Her smile dissolved into a frown. “But it wasn’t until later when I was able to live my life as I wished. I was at a fencing club when I met Le Chevalier D’Eon. Her story was a revelation. We became constant sparring partners and close friends and she told me of how she’d first lived as a woman in the Russian court, acting as a spy. She then managed to secure me a position working for the King of France before she was exiled to England. I lived and worked as a woman, but my duties became too rigorous as I got older and the pneumonia afflicted me further. When the revolution began, I fled to England, but sadly, there was no royal pension for me as there was for Le Chevalier. So I hired myself out as a lady’s companion and that is how I came to be with Miss Stratford.”
