Midnight Embrace

by Amanda Ashley

  She didn't awake until after two that afternoon, woke remembering the heat of Alesandro's lips on hers as the sun chased the moon from the sky. She sat up, smiling. He had said he loved her. Excitement rippled through her. Alesandro loved her!

  A moment later, there was a knock at her door. "Are you awake, miss?"

  "Yes, come in, Sally."

  Analisa watched the maid as she opened the drapes, laid out a change of underwear. It was easy to see that Sally was deeply in love. Her eyes glowed; she smiled all the time now, was often lost in a world of her own.

  Analisa grinned, wondering if her own eyes held the same glow.

  "Will you be wanting breakfast this afternoon?"

  "Yes."

  "Anything in particular?"

  "No. Tell Cook to surprise me. Sally, we need to talk."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "Mrs. Thornfield was looking for you last night."

  "Oh?" Sally's voice was suddenly wary.

  "Sally, please be careful. I should hate for you to be dismissed."

  "I've done nothing wrong," the maid said defensively, but there was no mistaking the guilt in her eyes or the flush that stained her cheeks.

  "I saw you, Sally. With Robert."

  "You didn't tell Mrs. Thornfield?"

  "No, but—"

  "Please don't tell her." Sally dropped down on her knees beside the bed. "Please, miss. I've no place to go if she sends me away! I love Robert, and he loves me. Here, at the Manor, is the only place we can be together."

  "Of course I shan't tell her," Analisa said. "But she already knows how you feel, and she's not blind."

  "Oh, bless you, miss."

  "You must be more careful."

  Sally nodded. "You're right, I know. But we have so little time together."

  "Perhaps I could speak to Lord Alesandro," Analisa suggested. "I'm sure he could arrange for the two of you to be together."

  Tears filled the maid's eyes. "You'd do that for me? Oh, miss, I don't know what to say."

  "You don't have to say anything. People in love should be together."

  Sally grabbed Analisa's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, miss." Rising, she blinked back her tears. "I'll go get your cocoa and tell Cook to prepare your breakfast."

  Rising, Analisa washed her hands and face. Sally came back a few minutes later. Analisa sipped her cocoa while Sally brushed her hair and then helped her dress, and all the while Sally thanked her over and over again for not telling Mrs. Thornfield about her rendezvous with Robert the night before.

  When she finished dressing, Analisa went downstairs to breakfast, leaving Sally to make the bed and tidy up the room.

  Analisa loved the Manor. It was so much brighter, so much more cheery, than the Hall. The grounds outside the window were all green and gold.

  She ate slowly, wishing Alesandro were there with her, that they could share the day together, go for a walk in the sun…

  Overwhelmed by a sense of guilt for even wishing such a thing, she quickly put the thought from her mind. Giving up walks in the sun was a small sacrifice to make. She would give up much more just to be with Alesandro. He was the most fascinating man she had ever known, even though he had told her time and time again that he was not a man at all.

  She spent an hour in the library with Mrs. Thornfield, who declared she had made such wonderful progress in reading and writing that there was nothing more she could teach her and suggested that Lord Alesandro might hire a tutor for her if she wished to pursue her education further. But Analisa had no interest in furthering her education. It was enough that she could read and write. When Mrs. Thornfield went to see to her other duties, Analisa perused the bookshelves. It was mind-boggling, the number of books Alesandro owned. Two libraries filled with books, and no two volumes the same. Of course, she mused, he'd had many, many years to collect them. As at Blackbriar, there were books here in many languages—medical books, history books, ancient texts and scrolls, books on art and music. And on vampires.

  She plucked one of the books about vampires from the shelf, then made herself comfortable in his chair in front of the fireplace. She thumbed through the pages, reading a paragraph here, a paragraph there, fascinated by the various facts and myths. Some people believed that crossroads were unhallowed ground and therefore travelers should not approach them at night, as they were meeting places for vampires, ghosts, witches, and other supernatural creatures like trolls and demons. In some parts of England, suicides were buried at the crossroads.

  Reading on, she found a chapter on how to destroy a vampire. Driving a stake through the heart or cutting off the head were considered the most efficacious methods. Both thoughts left her feeling slightly sick to her stomach, especially when she imagined such a thing happening to Alesandro. Fire was another option, as was immersing the vampire in water. She frowned at that. Alesandro bathed, didn't he?

  Another chapter gave opinions on how one became a vampire, such as being born the seventh son of a seventh son, or being born on a holy day or when there was a new moon, though why that should cause one to become a vampire was beyond her comprehension. Being a werewolf, practicing witchcraft, eating a sheep killed by a wolf, or committing suicide could lead to becoming a vampire. It was also believed that a person might turn into a vampire if he died by drowning, or if he was killed by a vampire, or if a cat jumped over his grave, or a candle was passed over his corpse.

  Analisa shook her head. Did anyone really believe such things?

  She turned one page after another, pausing when she came to a section on the supernatural powers of vampires. Could Alesandro do all these things? She knew he was capable of transporting her from one place to another in the blink of an eye, but could he turn into mist? Control the elements? Transform himself into a bat? Or a wolf?

  She frowned, remembering the black wolf that had run alongside the carriage when she arrived at Blackbriar, the wolves in the paintings in Alesandro's bed-chamber here and at Blackbriar. She had heard the howling of a wolf late at night from time to time. Could that have been he? Perhaps tonight she would ask him.

  On another page, she found several drawings of what vampires were supposed to look like. They were depicted as hideous creatures, with sunken eyes, enormous fangs, long fingernails, hairy hands, and pointed ears.

  Distressed by the sight, she closed the book and set it aside. Alesandro was not like that. He wasn't the spawn of the devil. He wasn't a ruthless killer… and yet she couldn't shut out the memory of his voice, or his words, the night he had told her what he was.

  "I am a vampire, Analisa. Much of what people say of my kind is untrue. What is true is that I must have blood to survive. I cannot bear the light of the sun, and I am vulnerable during the hours of daylight. I am constantly at war with what I am, constantly struggling to survive. We are predators, hunters. Killers."

  Feeling suddenly chilled, she went outside and stood in the sun, letting its warmth seep into her bones. How beautiful the sun was! How good it felt on her skin. She walked along the narrow path that wove through the gardens. It was hard to imagine there was evil or ugliness in the world on such a bright and beautiful day. Poor Alesandro! To think he had not seen the sun or felt its touch in over four hundred years. She sat down on a bench, the same bench Sally had shared with Robert, and stared into the distance, thinking of all the things Alesandro could no longer enjoy, like watching a flower lift its face to the sun, the taste of rich, warm cocoa on a cold night, bread fresh from the oven, one of Cook's airy soufflés, a glass of cold buttermilk. Poor Alesandro. How had he survived so long? How had he endured the loneliness?

  She sat there for a long time, thinking of him, of the night he had first come to the hospital. For all that he considered himself to be a monster, if not for him she would be dead now. She knew he had killed in the past, but she could not hold him guilty. She couldn't imagine how horrible it must have been for him to accept what he had become, nor could she imagine the awful hunger that dro
ve him. But, as bad as it was, he had overcome it, learned to control it, even learned how to use his powers to help others. She considered the blood he took from her a small price to pay for regaining her life.

  Her Alesandro. He was a hero in her eyes. Not like that fiend, Rodrigo, who killed for the love of it.

  A sudden chill made her realize the sun was going down. It would soon be time for dinner. And then Alesandro would come to her. Alesandro.

  Rising, she hurried back to the house, eager to see him again.

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  Analisa sat at her dressing table while Sally brushed out her hair, then swept part of it up in a thick coil on the top of her head, leaving the rest to fall in waves down her back. She knew without asking that Sally was planning to meet Robert later that night. She could tell by the way the maid's hands trembled, the way she jumped when the clock chimed the hour.

  "How's that, miss?" Sally asked, her head cocked to one side as she admired her handiwork.

  "It looks fine, thank you."

  Rising, Analisa shrugged out of her robe and stepped into her dress. It was a deep green watered silk with fitted sleeves, a square neck, and a slim skirt gathered in back to fall in graceful folds to the floor. She turned her back so Sally could fasten it. Biting down on her lower lip, she tried to decide whether she should say anything to Sally about sneaking off to meet Robert. Was it even her place to do so? Aside from Mrs. Thornfield, Sally was the closest thing she had to a friend and she didn't want to say or do anything to ruin that.

  Analisa frowned. If she was the mistress of the house, and if she didn't see anything wrong with Sally meeting Robert, then maybe it was all right. Or maybe she should talk to Alesandro about it. It was really his decision, after all.

  She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She would talk to him tonight, and let him decide what should be done.

  He was waiting for her when she descended the stairs. He smiled at her, a light burning in his deep blue eyes as his gaze swept over her.

  "Good evening, my lord," she murmured, feeling her cheeks flush under his frankly admiring gaze.

  " 'Lisa, you grow more beautiful each time I see you."

  "Thank you. Will you sit with me while I dine?" she asked, slipping her arm through his.

  "You will be dining out tonight."

  "I will? Where are we going?"

  "I have decided it is time for you to meet your neighbors. You spend far too much time alone."

  She shook her head. She had no desire to mingle with anyone. And if she occasionally felt lonely, well, there were worse things than being lonely. She would never fit in with her neighbors. They were people who had been born to wealth and position, who always knew the right thing to say whatever the situation, people whose manners were beyond reproach. She had been born in a poor part of the country and she had no desire to let others discover just how ignorant she was.

  "You are far too young to spend all your time alone, hidden away here at the Manor or at Blackbriar," Alesandro said in a reasonable tone. "One day you will wish to marry and…"

  She shook her head again, more vigorously this time. "No, my lord, I will not."

  " 'Lisa, listen to me—"

  She took her arm from his. "No, my lord. You listen to me! If you will not have me, I will not marry at all."

  "You are being foolish and stubborn."

  She glared up at him, her hands fisted on her hips. "No, it is you who are being foolish and stubborn. I love you. You say you love me, yet you stand there and speak of my marrying someone else, as if you didn't care at all!"

  He might have laughed at her impertinence if they had been discussing a subject less serious. "It is because I care that I wish for you to find a young man, one who can share your whole life, give you children, one who can grow old with you."

  "But I—"

  He stilled her protest with a wave of his hand. "Do you honestly think this is easy for me?" he demanded. "To think of you being with another man, bearing his children? I may be a monster, 'Lisa, but not so great a monster that I would keep you by my side and deprive you of the life you deserve."

  "You promised! You promised you wouldn't send me away!"

  "I am not sending you away. You may stay here until you find a man who suits you. I will give you a generous dowry and a wedding you will never forget."

  She shook her head, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "You can't make me get married, Alesandro. You can't make me fall in love with someone else." She took a deep breath, her arms falling to her sides in a gesture of defeat. "If you don't want me, I'll leave here tomorrow and you'll never have to see me again."

  " 'Lisa!"

  She stared up at him, her hands fisted in the folds of her gown, her heart hammering as she waited to see if he would call her bluff. And if he did, what then? What would she do? Where would she go?

  He was looking at her as if he had never seen her before. It was the first time she had known him to be at a loss for words.

  "Very well, I'll leave in the morning," she said, and turned toward the stairs, her tears falling freely down her cheeks. She had gambled, and she had lost.

  "Analisa." Just her name, spoken ever so softly, the way a man whispered the name of the woman he loved.

  Heart pounding, hardly daring to hope, she turned to face him.

  He held out his hand. "Come to me, 'Lisa."

  She walked slowly toward him and placed her hand in his, aware that, from this moment forward, things would be forever different between them.

  His hand curled over hers, his skin firm and cool, his touch gentle, belying the preternatural strength he possessed.

  "Never doubt that I want you," he said quietly. "You will never know how difficult it is for me to leave you when dawn approaches."

  "And I want you, Alesandro. You must know that."

  He nodded, his dark eyes filled with anguish, his expression troubled.

  Going up on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his. In an instant, his arms were around her and he was crushing her body to him, his mouth quickly taking control of hers. She could feel the hard press of his desire, taste it in his kisses, in the rapid pounding of his heart against her own. He had never kissed her quite like this before. It was frightening, exhilarating. Her body's response was immediate. Heat flowed through her, hotter than a brushfire, burning away every other thought but the need to touch him and be touched in return.

  Muttering an oath, he swept her into his arms and carried her to his bedchamber. The door opened as if by magic, and he carried her swiftly inside.

  The door closed behind him.

  A fire sprang to life in the hearth.

  He crushed her close, murmuring her name, raining kisses over her face, her throat, the curve of her shoulder, the hollow between her breasts.

  She moaned softly as his tongue slid over her skin.

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her, his deep blue eyes ablaze. "Are you sure this is what you want, Analisa? If you are not, you must say so now, before it is too late."

  "Make me yours, Alesandro," she whispered tremulously. "Now. Tonight."

  He carried her to the bed and laid her down upon it. His eyes never left hers as he removed his cloak and tossed it over the back of a chair. Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress.

  She watched his every movement. No one else moved the way he did. Like smoke, she thought, fluid, graceful. He made hardly a sound as he removed his cravat, his shirt, removed his shoes and socks, to stand before her clad in nothing but a pair of black trousers. The firelight caressed his broad shoulders and chest, cast red highlights in his hair. His eyes burned hotter than the flames in the hearth.

  He was beautiful, magnificent. She could feel his power fill the room, feel it flowing over her like the sizzle in the air before a storm.

  He moved toward the bed. Her heart pounded ever faster as he removed her shoes and unfastened her gown. She shivered with anticipation as h
is fingers, so long and strong, whispered over her skin, sliding her gown over her shoulders, down her arms. He tossed her dress on top of his shirt. Her petticoat and drawers came next, and then he unfastened her garters and removed her stockings, first one, then the other, his hands sliding sensuously down her thighs, her calves. When she wore nothing but her chemise, he stretched out beside her and drew her into his arms.

  She trembled at his touch, wanting more, and yet afraid of what she wanted at the same time. She knew nothing of intimacy or what went on between a man and a woman, knew only that she wanted Alesandro to be the one to teach her.

  She placed her hand on his chest, her touch shy and uncertain, until he covered her hand with his own, urging her to explore to her heart's content. His skin was cool, smooth, unblemished. His stomach was hard and unyielding; his muscles rippled at her touch. She leaned over him, measuring the breadth of his shoulders with her hands, running her fingertips over the corded muscles in his arms, thinking that his biceps were larger than her thighs. There was a fine sprinkling of curly black hair on his chest that narrowed to a fine line until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. She traced it with her finger, slipped her hand beneath the cloth.

  He groaned softly as she continued her exploration.

  She stopped, her gaze searching his. "Am I hurting you?"

  "In ways you cannot imagine," he said, his voice thick, and then, before she quite knew how it happened, she was lying naked beneath him. He bent his head. She shivered when she felt the brush of his fangs against her throat.

  Alesandro went still as only a vampire can be still. Lifting his head, he gazed down at her, his eyes probing the very depths of her soul.

  "It's all right," she said, knowing somehow that if she changed her mind now, he would be lost to her forever.

  And still he hesitated. She read the torment in his eyes, his fear of hurting her. Murmuring his name, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. At the first touch of her lips to his, he lost whatever battle he had been waging within himself. He surrendered with a groan that was part pleasure, part pain.