Nick scrubbed at his hair. “I paid them a little visit one night after you’d fallen asleep.”
“Ah.” She waited patiently.
“They—and their guests—well, it was the same old Isolde. Orgiastic sex and lots of it. With the addition of their…stimulants.”
Verity sighed. How well she knew the smell of those stimulants. Cloying and herbal, it had clung to her clothing, stubbornly scenting them for days. She could not afford the perfumes that Isolde used to mask the odor, nor would the servants clean the dresses of a humble companion.
“I remember.”
“Don’t.” Nick’s voice was firm. “‘Tis past. Gone. Something we need not recall. Ever.”
“Very well. But just tell me what happened.” Verity was insistent. She was going to learn the truth if it took her all night to pry it out of Nick. “Then I can let it go.”
She folded her arms around her legs, rested her chin on her knees and watched Nick from her little cocoon of feather down. She did not really need the warmth, but was comforted by it nonetheless.
They could have been a simple married couple enjoying a night’s repose. She was bathed and tucked into bed while he finished his own bath. Soon they would bank the fire, douse the candles and slumber, curled around each other, a picture of marital bliss.
But of course, they were not. They never would be.
She sighed. “Spit it out, Nick. I have all eternity to wait for your answer.” Wasn’t that the truth? “And I have the patience to go with it.”
Nick closed his eyes for a moment as the truth of Verity’s words poured over him like a cold shower. They did have eternity, as near as he could tell. And facing it with a woman who had questions unanswered—well, some things didn’t bear thinking about.
He grinned at her. “You win.”
She smirked. “I know.”
“I crept into the Towers that night. Isolde was entertaining her guests with some sort of dance that involved her removing her clothing. The rest of them were already mostly naked. And exceedingly drunk.”
Verity wrinkled her nose. “Ah. That dance.”
“Fortunately, they were in the grand salon. I wondered if she’d bring out her herbal stimulants, so I slipped up to her room and there they were. All set out on a tray, ready to be taken to the party. From that point on…” He lifted one shoulder. “It was easy.”
“It was?”
“Absolutely. One summer I studied some of those compounds. They were familiar. Pretty common, actually. Essence of poppy—which is the basis for laudanum—some wild plants, they can be burned as incense or smoked or added to tea—one came from Egypt a while back with the troops who returned from the Nile and surrounding areas.”
“Oh.”
Nick was pleased to see that Verity looked suitably impressed. “I simply…er…adjusted the quantities.”
“Good God. You poisoned them?” Her eyebrows flew up.
Nick looked offended as he finished drying himself off, blew out the candles and slid into bed beside her. “Certainly not. I would not stoop so low as to dirty my hands with those two. Although I must confess to a rather strong urge to rip their throats out.”
He leaned back, enjoying watching her as she struggled with her own emotions, finally huffing out a breath of disgust. “Unfortunately, I sort of agree with you. Those two…I can’t find any good reason for their existence. Although I suppose there has to be one somewhere in the overall scheme of things.” She turned on the pillow and looked at him. “So this adjustment you made…what was it?”
He looked back at her. “Verity, I wanted to kill them for what they did to you. Make no mistake, the urge was there. Strongly there. I can’t find a reason for them to take up space on this planet and I could easily have killed them without a second thought. Or a backward glance.” He paused. “But I couldn’t—something held me back. I simply couldn’t kill out of anger, no matter how terrible their deeds. Do you understand?”
“Of course I do. It’s who you are, Nick. You have changed in many ways, but the essential part that makes you you, is still there inside. You’re no murderer. You taught me to feed without taking more than I need. That took work and I’m sure it was no easy skill to master for you in the beginning. But no matter what you became, Thérèse’s influence never altered your fundamental character. She may have recreated you physically, but spiritually the good man I once knew is still there.”
“I hope so.” Nick shrugged. “I suppose time will tell.”
“Finish your story.” Verity nudged him.
“Oh, yes. Isolde. Well, I made an adjustment to the quantities of the chemicals, that’s all. If they chose to abstain, they would have been totally unaffected. If they overindulged—” He raised both eyebrows, knowing he need say no more.
“Oooooh, Nick. ‘Tis poetic justice indeed. Their own lusts and depravity dictated their fate. How…how…symmetric.” Verity looked at him approvingly. “I must say that was quite brilliant of you.”
“Thank you.” Nick dipped his head in acknowledgement and stole a quick kiss while he was at it. “Which reminds me.”
He slid out of bed and rummaged in his bag, returning with a small pouch. “Here. You wanted this, I believe?”
Verity shook her head in amazement as the tiny cache of jewelry winked in the candlelight. “You are quite astounding.”
“Aren’t I?” He grinned at her.
“Funny thing is, they seem so unimportant now.”
“Next to what we’ve found together, yes. I agree.” He snuggled against her. “I’m glad I got your clothes. These were an afterthought. For some reason, covering your body seemed far more important than bedecking you with your ill-gotten gains.” He grinned. “Other men may look at baubles. But not at you.”
Verity melted beside him and reached for his shoulders. He held her close. “Curb your desires for this night, my love.”
“Er…must I?”
“Yes, wanton temptress, you must. I would not leave our host and hostess with the sounds of your screams ringing in their ears. You are rather loud when you come, you know.”
Verity’s delicate flush of color enchanted Nick. In spite of all their lovemaking, she could still—now and again—blush.
“Such a pity to waste this lovely bed too.” Her eyes twinkled in the darkness. “Hmmm.”
Nick narrowed his eyes. “Now it’s my turn. I know that look.”
“Good. Then perhaps you’ll know what I have in mind.” She slithered beneath the covers and Nick jumped as he felt her mouth on his cock.
“Verity…” He hissed her name, ready to pull away from her. But, mortal or human, he was as helpless to resist her actions as any other male would have been.
“Mmmm.” The mumble rattled his balls and sent shivers of pleasure up his body. There would be no feeding tonight, no massive crashing orgasm that rocked them both off the surface of their world.
But perhaps there could be a simple give and take of affection. Perhaps for tonight they could pretend—pretend to be just two people deeply in love.
Which of course they were.
So Nick lay back and allowed himself to enjoy the pleasure of Verity’s tongue and lips and mouth, all of which she used with great enthusiasm on his cock and his balls. She found his sensitive spots, coaxed his cock to a fullness that was nearly painful, then took him deep into her throat and slid her hand down to the base, squeezing the soft velvet skin and tugging a little.
It was divine torture—exquisite agony—and when Nick knew he couldn’t take much more, he shifted beneath her mouth.
To his surprise, she refused to let him go.
“Verity, sweetheart. I can’t hold on much longer.”
“Then don’t.” Her voice was a muffled whisper around his cock, dampened even further by the bedclothes. He couldn’t make her out at all, simply relying on his senses and her lips. It was the strangest arousal—disembodied sex and Nick thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.
But to come? He didn’t know…wasn’t sure…
Verity didn’t let him think. She sucked him strongly, far back into her mouth, energetically pumping his cock, drawing his orgasm to its peak. He exploded helplessly, spurting between her lips in a release that was sweet in its simplicity.
There was no roar of completion, no savage lust for feeding. There was only—Verity.
And afterwards, he smiled as he returned the favor, buried tight against her pussy and loving her clit with his tongue. He wanted to laugh as he saw her grab a pillow and hold it to her face, muffling her cries of pleasure.
Even without their fangs, it seemed his woman could not stop shrieking her climax to the world.
He held her tightly, feeling the shudders that racked her and the spasms around his face.
It was a precious moment for Nick.
A brush with the humanity he’d thought lost to him forever.
He had no regrets about his treatment of Gawain and Isolde. He’d spoken nothing but the truth when he said he’d wanted to kill them—exterminate them like the vermin they were. His fury had known no bounds as he’d ridden to the Towers, making his hands shake on the reins.
But when he’d arrived and found them at their play, it was as if he looked at them through new eyes.
He’d observed them, watched their antics and at last seen them for what they were. Two stupidly brainless people with only emptiness and lust where intelligence and love should be.
He felt no pity for Gawain. He had to have ingested a vast amount of the drugs to do such damage to himself. And Isolde too must have overindulged. Nick knew his way around such chemicals. Their regular consumption would have rendered them sick and impotent, for a while at least. Punishment enough in Nick’s opinion.
But their greed for sensation, their continued descent into drug-fueled depravity had brought about their sad state. As Verity had said, there was indeed a certain symmetry to it. Allowing them to be the instruments of their own destruction.
At least Nick could rest in the knowledge that they would never again inflict such pain on another human being. That their desires would no longer threaten those around them.
For the rest? He cared not. It was, as he’d told Verity, in their past and he was content to let it stay there.
As they settled for their rest, Verity turned to Nick. “I love you.” She leaned into his shoulder finding the most comfortable spot for her head. “I wanted you to know. In spite of everything, whatever else lies ahead—none of that matters. I love you. Whether for this moment only or for eternity. That will never change, Nick.”
He blinked away moisture, something suspiciously like tears flooding his vision. “I love you too, Verity. I don’t know how or why we’ve ended up together, but I’ll forever thank the Fates for uniting us.”
His heart was in his throat as he spoke.
Nick Blaine had accomplished what he’d considered impossible for a vampire. Where there had been only darkness, now there was light. Where there had been emptiness there was now joy.
And where there had been solitary desolation—there was now love.
And Verity.
Chapter Seventeen
The moon was rising as they got their first look at St. Chesswell’s.
There were lights glowing from many of the windows and even though the grey and weathered stone was solid, the entire place gave off a welcome—a beacon in the darkness against the glittering sea beyond. A dark strip on the horizon divided the waves from the sky—the Isle of Wight most probably.
“That’s it. Journey’s end.” Nick gazed at it.
“It looks nice enough.”
Verity’s voice was calm, but he could sense her nervousness. He was nervous too, an odd sensation somewhere deep in his gut that had driven him to this place without knowing quite why he had to be there.
He shrugged. “No point in staring at it. We might as well go and find out who—or what—is within.”
The salt air was soft around their faces as they rode down the gravel drive to the massive doors. This was a place that was linked to the sea, perhaps built as a fortress or something, that had become a home to the St. Chesswell line. Nick knew nothing about them, he’d heard the name at some point in his travels, but other than a vague memory…he was heading into this quite blind.
It wasn’t a feeling he relished, when coupled with his unsettling apprehension.
“I think there’s a chyne around here.”
“A what?” Nick glanced at Verity.
“A chyne. You know, one of those places where a river cut through the land to the sea. It’s a sharp valley type thing. I remember reading about them in smuggler’s tales when I was a little girl.” She frowned. “Damn it. I can’t recall the details…”
“No matter. I suppose we’ll find out.” He dismounted and tied his horse to a convenient tether post at the foot of the steps.
Side by side they walked to the door.
Nick looked at Verity. “Are we doing the right thing?”
She gazed steadily back. “It’s late, yet there are lights on. We will not be waking the household if that’s what you’re worried about. As far as doing the right thing? You tell me.”
“I cannot. And that’s troubling me.”
“I trust your instincts.” Verity reached for the heavy knocker and let it fall with a resounding thud. “There. Now it’s no longer your decision.” She smiled at him.
Before he could frame a suitable response, the door creaked open and a man stood there, silhouetted by the glow of candles inside. He was elderly and leaned on a sturdy cane.
“Good evening. May I help you?”
The voice was courteous and correct, betraying simple interest, no more.
“We’re looking for St. Chesswell’s.” Nick answered in equally polite tones.
“You’ve found it.” He looked around him. “My butler’s hiding somewhere, I suppose. Probably asleep by now.” Turning back he took a long look at the couple standing before him. “I’m Chesswell. Sir Sidney Chesswell. What can I do for you?”
Nick ran his hand through his hair. “We apologize for the lateness of our arrival. In truth…” He paused uncertainly. “I don’t exactly know why we’re here…”
Sir Sidney continued his appraisal of them, his gaze finally reaching their faces and pausing.
Nick held his breath.
“So you don’t know why you’re here?” Sir Sidney tilted his head to one side and smiled gently. “I do.” He stepped back and opened the door wide. “Come in.”
Verity followed Nick into St. Chesswell’s, her curiosity matched by her confusion. The place was welcoming, lamps and candles brightening what would otherwise have been a gloomy hall. Sir Sidney was very polite and seemed friendly, his smile hinting at some private amusement.
“Would you come into the salon? There’s a nice fire going and I can probably scare up some refreshments. Not that you’d need them, of course, but it is the hospitable thing to do, isn’t it?”
Totally at a loss, Verity simply did as she was bid, taking comfort from Nick’s presence and the sense that he was as confused as she was.
They walked into a large room where the promised fire burned brightly in an old and blackened fireplace. Thick drapes blocked out the night and there was an air of cozy contentment pervading the scene.
Two people were already there.
They stood as Sidney walked in. “We have visitors.” He stepped aside.
Verity caught her breath.
Four gazes met and clashed in astonishment. She found herself staring at the couple by the mantel—a man, dashingly dark and handsome, standing next to a woman with fiery rich red hair. His arm was reaching protectively for her as the couples sized each other up, then paused.
Verity felt the impact of the man’s look like a punch to her gut. His eyes were black—just like Nick’s. Just like hers.
Silence reigned, broken only by the pop and crackle of logs in
the fireplace.
Finally Sir Sidney cleared his throat. “Well, somebody has to make the introductions.” He moved to the fire and turned to Nick and Verity. “This is my son, Adrian. And his wife, Katherine.” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Astounded.” Nick cleared his throat.
The man called Adrian chuckled. “You’re not the only one.”
His deep voice recalled Verity to her wits. “I’m sorry. This is Sir Nicholas Blaine. I’m Verity. Verity Chandler.”
Katherine Chesswell moved then. “Hello. Welcome, Sir Nicholas, Miss Chandler. Come to the fire and sit. You both look as if you’ve traveled a great distance.” Her smile was sincere and Verity found herself accepting the outstretched hand, allowing herself to be drawn to a chair and seated. They might have been guests arriving for tea.
But they weren’t.
Nick voiced all their thoughts. “I never dreamed I’d meet another.” He stared at Adrian.
“Nor I.” Katherine’s eyes twinkled. Katherine’s very dark blue eyes.
“Good Lord. You too?” Verity blinked.
“Yes. Me too.”
“Well, I’ll be—” Nick bit off the expletive.
“We all are.” Katherine settled her skirts. “Damned, that is. Although Sir Sidney hasn’t suffered the same fate. He just looks out for us.”
Nick was struggling with this strange new development. “Thérèse?”
The word reverberated around the room and the smile fell away from Katherine’s face as she nodded. “Yes. She’s responsible for Sir Sidney’s injury too.”
Verity turned to see the older man lower himself cautiously into a chair, assisted by his son.
He waved away Katherine’s comment. “‘Tis nothing. I’m an old man. Not quite so quick on my feet as I once was.”
“How—when—” Verity stumbled over her words as questions flooded her mind.
“If I may—” Sir Sidney interjected. “You need a room. You need to relax a little. You are among friends here and I can imagine the questions that plague you must be overwhelming.” He smiled gently at Verity. “Let Katherine settle you both. Then come back and we shall talk of things that must be said. I’m up all night these days. A habit I’ve picked up from my son.” He glanced briefly at Adrian, a glance full of affection.
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