by Kit Tunstall
His praise broke her concentration, and she stumbled. He was there to catch her, and she crashed against his chest. Their faces were inches apart, and Emily’s breath caught in her throat when she met his eyes. She could see and feel how strongly he believed she was beautiful. It made her feel beautiful and sensual, as if she was a creature of sensation, without consequence. She wanted to sink against him and feel his lips on hers. She wanted more than that, and her body clamored for her to give in to her urgings. Her own desires frightened her more than his. She cleared her throat and pushed against him. His arms dropped away, and he took a step back as she swayed unsteadily for a second before regaining her balance.
He took her hand again, and they continued down Bleecker. As they passed the alley, a wave of fatigue swept through Emily, and her head started pounding. Her legs turned to jelly and refused to move her forward.
“You must be starving and exhausted.” Nicholas put his arm around her waist and led her to the front of the brownstone. She leaned heavily on him, unable to muster the energy to walk on her own. “I hadn’t planned on your fall, or I would have rations on hand. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do.”
She didn’t bother to ask for clarification as they entered the foyer and bypassed the rows of mailboxes. Nicholas took her straight to the elevator and propped her against him while they waited for the car to appear. She questioned how suddenly the wave of exhaustion swept through her, but was too tired to focus on what was happening or even be suspicious of Nicholas. Part of her suspected he was manipulating her again, but she didn’t care right then. All she wanted was to sleep for years. Her stomach growled, reminding her she wanted to eat too. Her mouth watered when she thought of blood. Intellectually, her reaction disgusted her, but she couldn’t deny she craved the taste.
On the fourth floor, Nicholas lifted her into his arms and carried her to apartment 4-A. He rang the bell with his elbow, and Tremont opened the door within seconds. He looked alarmed as they walked past him, and he followed behind.
Emily wanted to reassure him, but couldn’t lift her head from Nicholas’s chest. It was too comfortable being held in his arms, and she wanted to tell him to put her down, but was afraid of falling. A part of her didn’t want to lose the connection with him. She quickly squashed that thought.
Nicholas pushed open the door to her room and laid her on the bed before he turned to Tremont. “Bring blood.”
“There’s only a tiny bit left from the last shipment you received from the blood bank, master.”
“Blood bank?” Emily asked in a daze.
He smoothed the hair off her face. “They believe I suffer from a rare illness that requires constant transfusions. It’s convenient to sustain us, but we still need fresh blood.” He turned back to Tremont, saying, “Bring what you can find. It should tide her over until tonight.”
Emily’s tongue felt thick when she asked, “What happens tonight?”
He removed his sunglasses and hung an earpiece in the pocket of his jeans. “It’s time you learned to feed on your own.”
She feebly shook her head.
He touched her cheek. His tone was firm when he spoke. “You will hunt and eat if I have to force the blood down your throat.”
She wanted to protest his dictate, but couldn’t find the energy. She didn’t even fight when Nicholas took off her sunglasses and hoodie. She put up her hands when he pulled at the T-shirt, but he pushed past her weak resistance. She tried to roll off the bed when he went to the dresser for pajamas, but didn’t make it far.
He treated her like a recalcitrant child as he removed her jeans and slid on the pajama pants. His dark eyes burned brightly when he removed her bra, but his fingers were quick and efficient with the top. Soon, she was dressed and under the covers.
“I want to shower,” she whispered.
“Later.”
Tremont knocked on the door and entered with a wineglass of deep-red liquid. Nicholas took it from him and sat on the bed beside her. He lifted and propped her against his arm, then held the glass to her lips.
She consumed the blood eagerly, blotting out the part of her urging to spit it in his face. Emily drained the last drop and whimpered, wanting more. She licked the rim of the glass, then her own lips, catching his eyes as they followed her tongue. She heard him groan, and a small smile teased the corners of her mouth. He pulled the glass away, and she reached for it. “More.”
“Tonight,” he said in a soothing voice. “Sleep now and recover some measure of strength.” Before he had even gotten up from the bed, she was asleep.
1664, Virginia
Elspeth looked up from the hearth as Griselda burst into the room. She tucked a strand of auburn hair escaping her mobcap behind her ear and stepped away from the hot fire. “It is about time you showed up. I do not want to stand here all day.”
Griselda waved a hand, ignoring her sister’s rebuke. “He is here.”
Her eyes widened. “Whom?”
“Vallsade, the trapper.” A teasing glint appeared in her blue eyes. “But I suppose you do not care, sister?”
Elspeth’s cheeks bloomed with color, and her eyes darted to the doorway. “Shush,” she hissed. “You cannot speak of such things. What if Johanna heard you? She would run to the master.”
Griselda lowered her voice. “I heard him tell Abel he would stay the night if Lord Tremont permitted. He is passing through on his way to Jamestown.”
A giddy sensation swept through Elspeth, and she had to fight back a giggle. She longed to tear off her apron and run to greet Nicholas properly, but couldn’t. Instead, she returned her attention to the bubbling stew and struggled to appear calm. “Mr. Vallsade always has such interesting stories.”
Her sister giggled and started to say more, but Johanna’s arrival caused her mouth to close with a click.
The housekeeper eyed them both with displeasure, pursing her mouth. As always, an immaculate striped dress and roomy apron covered her rail-thin body. Not a strand of her mousy brown hair peeked out of the lap cap. “You appear short of tasks, Griselda. Allow me to fill your time.”
“I—”
She ignored the interruption. “The hearth in the main hall needs a good cleaning.”
Griselda grimaced. “But I cleaned it two days ago.”
Johanna’s smile was cold. “Clean it again.” She cast a disparaging glance at Elspeth. “Heaven knows Lord Tremont would not wish your sister to leave the kitchens for something so menial as scooping cinders.” Her mouth twisted. “He values her culinary skills too highly.”
With a sigh, Griselda inclined her head and scurried from the kitchen.
Elspeth’s shoulders tensed as she awaited instructions and scathing remarks from the slightly older woman. The last thing she wanted to do was stand there during one of the housekeeper’s tirades when Nicholas was so close.
“Culinary skills,” she repeated in a low voice. She shook her head. “Lord Tremont will have a visitor this evening. Ensure you have proper food, and not the slop from last night.”
She bit back a retort about the slop from the night before, because she didn’t have permission to speak unreservedly to Johanna, who was a freewoman. “Yes, ma’am.”
With another sniff, Johanna left the kitchen. When she was gone, Elspeth laid the ladle on the wooden table and sat on a stool. She cast an anxious glance at the door leading out the back of the cross-plan house. She wondered if Nicholas would try to see her immediately. As much as her heart yearned for a glimpse of his face, she knew it would be too risky. If Lord Tremont caught them, he might extend the length of her contract as punishment for disobeying him.
She rose from the stool and went to the bowl of dough, lifting the cloth and removing the lump to knead it briskly. A small smile darted across her mouth when she imagined Johanna’s face on the bread dough. How satisfying it would be to pound her against the table a few times.
Nicholas didn’t try to see her before dinner, so Elspeth slipped from
the kitchen to her small room on the third floor. She changed the plain black dress for a white one with small yellow flowers and tied a matching pocket to the waist of the dress. She had only the white apron she had worn during the day, so retied it around herself. As a final step, she brushed out her hair and redid the bun before securing the white mobcap over her hair. As usual, her hair was too thick and long to fit comfortably under the confines of the bonnet, and she knew Johanna would rebuke her for a messy appearance.
Tonight, she didn’t care. She had thoughts of soon seeing her lover to sustain her. It had been over a year since their last meeting, and she found herself impatient for the dinner to pass so she could be with him again.
She took the back stairs and reentered the kitchen to find Johanna sampling the stew. She stiffened when the other woman spat out the bite onto the floor.
“Terrible swill. It has no flavor.”
“You hold the key to the spice cabinet, Johanna. I cannot add salt if you will not part with it.”
She glared at Elspeth. “A good cook would not require such large quantities.”
She tried to let the insult roll over her as she busied herself with taking bowls from the cupboard and stacking them on a wooden tray. Johanna watched every move, as if waiting for her to make a mistake. She pushed past the other woman and lifted the ladle. Elspeth hissed and dropped it when it burned her hand. She whirled around to confront Johanna, who smiled. “Are you pleased, Johanna?” she made herself ask in a calm voice. “I assume you held the ladle to the fire in the hearth until it was sufficiently heated?”
Johanna nodded. “Aye.”
She closed her eyes and forced down her anger by picturing Nicholas’s handsome face. “Next year, when my contract has ended, I will say all the things I have saved these past three years, Johanna.” She kept her voice deliberately light.
Johanna’s spine stiffened, and her anger was palpable. It was disconcerting when her lips curved from an angry expression to a smile. “Lord Tremont will find a way to keep you bound. You know he will not let you go.”
She didn’t bother debating. Instead, Elspeth said, “And he will never look at you the way you wish him to as long as I am around. You are only the housekeeper to him.”
Johanna’s hand connected with her cheek with a resounding crack. “Bite your tongue, wench. I am a freewoman.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she winced at the throbbing in her cheekbone. “Now,” she bit out. “Two years ago, you too were indentured.” Elspeth took a deep breath. “Why do you not leave? You could have married long ago and collected your land when you received your freedom dues.”
Johanna’s chin raised a notch. “I will be mistress of Tremont Plantation.”
Elspeth sighed and lifted a cloth from the table before retrieving the ladle. She knew of Johanna’s aspirations. She hoped Lord Tremont would fall madly in love with his housekeeper—once her contract ended. As unpleasant as Johanna was as a supervisor, she couldn’t imagine tolerating her if she was mistress of the plantation.
She dished the stew into the serving bowl and set it on the tray. Johanna stood in her way, and she eased past her. “I must serve,” she said in a neutral voice, although her stomach churned with excitement. Nicholas was only a few feet away.
She hurried into the hall, where Lord Tremont sat at the head of the table. Elspeth kept her expression bland as her eyes danced briefly over Nicholas. His hair had grown longer, and he wore it confined with a leather thong. His buckskins were clean, but in need of repair. He looked as if he had spent the last year in the wild, trapping animals. In reality, he had probably returned to England, where sustenance was plentiful.
Bartholomew Tremont’s eyes followed her every move as she set the serving bowl on the imported French table and put bowls before the two men. Elspeth tried to ignore the way her skin crawled as his eyes bored into her. After three years of having the man visually devour her, she should be accustomed to it. Most times, she didn’t notice, but tonight she was keenly aware of Nicholas watching Tremont watch her. She could sense his anger, which frightened her. He could destroy Tremont easily, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want Nicholas to be condemned as a murderer or recognized for what he was.
“Another excellent meal, I am certain,” Tremont said in a smooth, clear voice. His voice was just as handsome as the rest of him. He took pride in his neatly groomed blond hair, deep brown eyes, fine European clothes, and cultured accent. He was a tobacco farmer by trade, but retained the airs of the nobleman he had been when he lived in England.
Elspeth gave him a brief smile and curtsied to both of them before leaving the hall. She hid in the kitchen, waiting for the meal to end, and the house to retire. She could already feel Nicholas’s arms around her.
Griselda had quietly arranged to share a room with Agnes, the other household servant, so Elspeth had the bed to herself. She lay under the covers tensely, waiting for the sound of Nicholas at the door. Her heart stuttered when she heard him rap lightly, and she slid from the bed to let him in. Her nervous fingers fumbled with the latch for a moment, and then the door swung open with a creaking sound. They both froze for a second, waiting to see if anyone would investigate.
Finally, he moved forward and closed the door. He frowned. “I dislike the need for secrecy.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him. “Please, let us not argue tonight.”
Nicholas frowned, but his arms encompassed her. “Aye. We have precious little time.”
“I have dreamed of you every night we have been apart,” she whispered, hiding her face against the scratchy wool of the shirt he had changed into.
“You could have been with me,” he said, with a trace of bitterness.
Elspeth groaned. “We agreed not to argue.”
He tilted her chin and kissed her lips. His tongue darted into her mouth, and he moaned. “You taste like Heaven,” he said when he lifted his head. “How can I bear to part from you tomorrow for months on end?”
She closed her eyes, briefly tempted to run away from her obligations so they could be together. For fear of recklessly giving in, she said only, “Let us not think on this now. Make love to me, Nicholas.”
His hands were warm when they pulled at the ties on her chemise, indicating he had recently fed. A flush of desire on his cheeks was more proof. She wondered who had been his victim, but her thoughts wandered from Nicholas’s dinner to what his hands were doing at her breasts. She arched her back as she pulled at the buttons on his shirt. A year of abstinence lent her fingers an urgency that allowed her to have him stripped of the garment in seconds. Even the burn on her hand didn’t impede her ability.
She ran her uninjured palm down his chest, tracing the line of his ribs where they poked out slightly. “You have grown thin, my love.”
“I pine for you,” he said against her mobcap.
Elspeth hid her smile of pleasure against his chest, while continuing to stroke him, letting her hand slip lower. His hands were equally busy. “I have missed you,” he said as he removed the mobcap to reveal her long fall of auburn hair. “I ache for you.” Nicholas ran his hands through her hair, lifting strands to his face to rub against his cheek. Her chemise and petticoat quickly followed the route of the hair covering.
She brushed against the placket concealing his cock, although it pushed insistently against the fabric of his knee breaches. Elspeth palmed him, while letting her other hand drift to his buttocks, where she squeezed lightly.
He growled low in his throat before tipping back her head to claim her mouth. His kiss was urgent, but tender, coaxing her mouth to soften as her lips parted. She met his tongue eagerly with her own, engaging his in a duel for supremacy that ended only when she pinned his tongue between her cheek and teeth, before nipping him.
He jerked in reaction, swatting her on the buttocks, as he disengaged her tongue. “Minx.”
“You bring out the animal in me,” she said against his lips, nippi
ng him again. She ran her tongue across his teeth, pausing to flirt with his fangs. A shiver ran down her spine, anticipating the day she would be free to allow him to change her to a vampire so they could live together forever.
“I would rather bring something into you.” Nicholas cupped her pussy in his palm, caressing the outer lips, where moisture dripped from her. “I thought I would die without you.”
She nodded, equally anxious for his possession. It had been too long since the last time he made love to her. He paused only to strip off his knee breaches before lifting and carrying her to the narrow bed.
“As did I. I cannot wait, my love.” Once on the bed, Elspeth spread her legs for him, welcoming him with little preparation. Her body was wet and waiting for his cock. Later, there would be time for slow loving and whispered words. Right now, she wanted to feel him inside her.
She had almost forgotten how big he was. A gasp escaped her when his cock filled her pussy, stretching her almost beyond endurance. As her sheath relaxed, accepting the unaccustomed presence of him again, Elspeth pulled him tightly against her, listening to his heart race against her ear. He whispered her name several times as he thrust in and out of her. She met his thrusts with her own, straining for fulfillment. When his hand slipped between their bodies to stroke her clit, swollen with need and begging for attention, she barely bit back a cry.
He massaged her clit in rhythm with his thrusting hips, making it difficult for Elspeth to remember to thrust in time with him. She closed her eyes and held onto him, counting on Nicholas to guide her to the peaks of pleasure. Her pussy throbbed with spasms, mirroring his, and release was near. She almost didn’t want it to come, preferring to stay just like this with her lover forever.
As an orgasm swept over her, seconds before he found satisfaction, her eyes pricked with unshed tears. She didn’t know how she would stand to watch him ride away tomorrow. Her only consolation was, at their next reunion, she would be a freewoman. She would have fulfilled her contract and received her freedom dues. As soon as they married, she could get her land, and they would have the life she dreamed about. Nicholas would realize she didn’t want to return to England when she maintained her resolve to stay in the Colonies.