by Anne Ireland
“I have loved you for hundreds of years . . .”
Was her lover the man she was seeing in her new dreams? Had she been brought to the castle to play out an old tragedy? Was the girl who had been married to a man who had treated her ill actually Angelina in another time—and what would happen next in the story she was witnessing through dreams?
Angelina was almost fearful as she went back to the bed. She longed to know the outcome, and she ached for Raphael to come to her again. Something told her he would not until the story was played out to the end.
* * * *
“Raphael . . .” Angelina was awake and waiting for him as he came through the secret passage. “I was beginning to think you would not come.”
“Frederick kept me talking as we rode. It was not until we had traveled more than ten leagues that he allowed me to leave his side and I was able to slip away. I came as swiftly as I could.” “Oh, my love . . .” Angelina moved towards him, her hands outstretched. “I long to be with you forever. Should we leave at once, before Frederick suspects anything? If we go swiftly, we may escape before he can stop us.”
“You should not fear him.” Raphael smiled confidently. “Trust me, my beloved. I have sworn on all I hold dear that I shall never fail you. Your husband plans to be gone for three days. We shall leave early in the morning. There is time yet for me to love you . . . to show you that we were meant to be together.”
“Raphael . . .” Angelina took his hand and led himto her bed. She stood looking at him as he removed her night rail and threw it to the ground. His eyes feasted on her softly flushed body, a breath of adoration on his lips. She trembled as he knelt before her and kissed her feet. He buried his face against the dampness of the dark curls that covered her mound and inhaled her scent. His touch made her quiver with sudden need. “Raphael . . . my love . . .”
He kissed the insides of her thighs, sliding himself up her body to caress each separate part that he touched. The touch of his flesh against hers was so sweet, burning her, making her near faint with pleasure. When he finally stood before her and took sweet possession of her mouth, she leaned into him, feeling herself melt in the swirling heat of theirmutual need.
“My love . . .” he murmured huskily. “Now I want to gaze on your beauty once more.”
He bent over her, and his hand moved sensually down the length of her body, his touch so light and soft that it was almost reverent.
“So beautiful . . . more beautiful than any woman I have seen.” “You are beautiful too,” she whispered as her body seemed to dissolve in the heat of his eyes. She was becoming a part of him, her soul entwining with his, as if they had somehow fused into one being, one entity that could never be parted. A little moan left her lips. They parted on a breath of wanting so fierce that she felt she was being swept away by a rushing wind.
Raphael divested himself of his hose and tunic. His thighs were like the trunks of small trees, his body strong and muscular, the skin a deep olive color that seemed to have the sheen of satin in the candlelight. She could see the proud, rampant evidence of his arousal. He was so big and hard, and so beautiful, like a young god come to Earth. As he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, Angelina whimpered, her lips parting on a sigh of pleasure. She lay looking at him as he bent over her, beginning his assault with his tongue and hands.
Never had she expected to feel so much pleasure. Her body quivered as she arched and moaned, the tumult of delicious feelings so sinfully delightful that she could hardly bear them. His tongue teased and laved her nipples, which had peaked as desire flamed.
Angelina ran her hands over his shoulders, down the satin skin to the hollow of his back, stroking him as he stroked her with his lips and tongue. She heard him groan with pleasure and knew that she had aroused similar feelings in him as those that raged through her. Her body was dissolving in liquid flames as she arched and whimpered beneath him. The hard length of his rod pressed against her thigh, his breath quick and fevered as he continued to touch and caress her, her legs spread wide for him.
“Yes . . . please . . . yes,” she whispered. “I want to feel you inside me, Raphael. I want you deep inside me. I want to go with you to the ends of the earth. I love you so much . . . so much . . .”
“I love you,” he murmured. “You are all I could ever desire.”
His hand moved at her sensitive nub, bringing her to such bliss that she cried out and her nails raked his shoulder as she opened wide for him. Suddenly, he placed his hand over her mouth.
“Horses!” he said and started up. “I think your husband has returned.” He rolled from the bed and walked to the narrow window, then looked down at the activity in the courtyard below. Her eyes devoured the beauty of his strong body, the long legs, strong back, and smooth rump that looked so deliciously firm that she wanted to bite it. Raphael’s next words sent the sinful thought fleeing from her head.
“It is your husband. He thinks to trick us,” he said. “He must have suspected something . . . perhaps hopes to catch us asleep in each other’s arms.” “You must go,” Angelina urged, desire fleeing before her fear for him. “Go the way you came, quickly.” “The passage leads to the tower,” Raphael told her. Come with me, Angelina. He will come here to your chamber. We may yet escape him.”
“No, you must go,” she said, terror in her eyes. “Go now, or it may be too late. You must slip away from the castle. Tomorrow I shall come to the tower . . . but go quickly, or he will find you here, and he will kill us both.”
“Remember I love you. I shall return.” Raphael took one last kiss and left her. She watched as the door closed behind him and her heart broke. If Frederick suspected she had a lover, he would make certain she remained his prisoner for the rest of her life.
Chapter Three Angelina was troubled by the dreams of the previous night. She had experienced Raphael’s loving through the eyes of the woman who had betrayed her husband, feeling her pleasure and her fear as her lover fled.
What had happened next? She suspected that she knew. She had experienced a premonition the first time she came to this room, seeing a young woman wearing a white gown fleeing from a man with a sword. Mrs. Macintyre had told her that there had been a terrible murder in the castle centuries before. She very much feared it had been herself—that in a previous life a jealous husband had murdered the woman she had been then. For she was certain that the Angelina who had met a cruel death was her in another life. It must be so. Why else would she have been given these visions?
Why had Raphael not saved her? Poor Angelina of that time . . . she had placed her trust in her lover, and he had failed her. Hearing the awful sound that she had thought was wind, Angelina shivered. It did not sound like wind in the clear light of day, but a soul in torment. Was that why Raphael had been so desperate when he came to her, night after night, before she returned to the castle?
Because she had returned? The dreams had been too vivid to be merely that, she was sure. She was being led towards the climax of the story, and what would happen then? Was she meant to die all over again—or would Raphael save her this time?
“Help me, my love,” she whispered. “Please do not let me die.”
“I shall not fail you.” The answer was like the whisper of wind in the eaves, so faint she was not sure she had heard it. It seemed that her lover’s power was strongest at night. Now he was just a faint echo in her thoughts.
Who or what was he? Or was she losing her mind?
No, she must cling to the belief that Raphael was here—that he would come to her and they would find that wonderful sensual pleasure in each other’s arms. Going downstairs, Angelina sought out the housekeeper. She was busy at her work in the huge kitchen, which had been modernized by the addition of a new cooking range and various other improvements, but still looked like something from an age long passed. It had high vaulted ceilings, stone flags, and a spit over the fire in the hearth.
“Was there something you wanted, my lady?”
Mrs. Macintyre looked at her almost fearfully, as if she were apprehensive of her answer. “I wanted to speak to you about the rats,” Angelina told her. “My father was bitten the first night he slept here. He advised me to get a cat or a good ratting dog to get rid of them.”
“I’m sure I was not aware of rats, my lady. We keep a clean house here, and I’ve seen no sign of them.”
“I saw the bite myself,” Angelina told her. “I believe the house to be clean, but we shall have it cleaned thoroughly before the marquis returns—and we shall have a ratter bring his dogs to clear out any vermin. When he has done his job, we shall have a cat, or perhaps two. There is plenty of room for them both to find work in a house of this size.”
“Very well, my lady. I shall see that your orders are carried out.”
“Thank you.” Angelina left her and went outside. It was the first time she had bothered to leave the house since her arrival. She was fascinated by the old tower, which she believed must have been a part of an older castle that had stood on the site centuries earlier.
Mrs. Macintyre had warned her never to go there, but Angelina felt that the key to the mystery lay within its ruined walls. Perhaps if she were brave enough to venture inside she might discover its secret?
She was making her way towards it with new determination when a servant came running up to her.
“My lady, there is a visitor come with a letter from the marquis.”
Angelina turned away reluctantly. A messenger from the marquis could not be ignored. She must return to the house at once. The secret of the tower must wait for another day.
* * * * Angelina read her letter again, feeling the excitement it had aroused once more. Her husband had written that he hoped to be with her sooner than he had believed possible. He said that he had given instructions for a new wardrobe of clothes to be made for her, and that she was to be prepared to leave soon after his arrival
If things go as I hope, madam, we shall journey to London, where we shall entertain and mix with society . . . If only it could be so! A little sigh left her lips. She had thought she might be doomed to a life of loneliness, tied to some kind of monster, but her husband’s letter had given her new hope. She had always longed to be taken to London . . . but what did he mean if things went well? Was it some kind of allusion to what was happening here?
* * * * Angelina rose from her bed and put on the night-robe Raphael had discarded earlier. He had gone through the secret passage and must be safe now. She was trembling, for she knew that her husband would come to her room at any moment. If he tried to impose himself on her, she could not bear it. To endure his vile touch after Raphael’s sweet, sensual caresses was too much. Her mood hardened. He had bullied her for long enough. She would never let him near her again.
Angelina’s heart stopped as she heard the sound of heavy footsteps and then the door of her bedchamber was flung open and Frederick entered. Black-haired and stocky, dressed in the long gown of a nobleman, his ugly face frowned at her. She knew at once from his look of disappointment that he had expected to find her in bed with her lover, and she felt a cold knot form in her stomach
“Witch!” Frederick’s eyes blazed with hatred as he strode towards her. “What have you done with him? I know my cousin was here, for my spies followed him back to the castle. Damn his cheating soul to hell! He thought to deceive me and steal my wife, but I am no fool.”
“I . . . do not know what you mean,” Angelina said, her breath catching with fear. “I have not betrayed you, sir.” “Lying bitch!” he said, grabbing her by the arm. His fingers dug into her flesh, and she knew he meant to hurt her. He would fling her on the bed and rape her, as he had on other nights when she had displeased him. “I'll teach you to make a fool of me.”
“No. No, I shall not let you use me.” Angelina wrenched away from him, her mood of defiance giving her courage. “I will never be yours again.”
She fled past him, leaving him staring in surprise. Not once in their marriage had she defied him, and her new defiance had taken him off guard, but the advantage did not last long. “I will kill you!” Frederick yelled and drew his sword, chasing her down the narrow corridors towards the stairs that led to the great hall. “Come here, faithless wife. Adulteress. You shall die. I swear, before this night is out, you shall die!”
Angelina had reached the great hall, but her husband was close behind. She turned and saw him raise his arm to strike her down, and then she heard the great roaring sound that she had heard before, and a dark shadow seemed to come from somewhere above their heads. It swooped down on the man and covered him with its wings, bearing him to the ground. Angelina trembled as she heard Frederick scream several times. His arms and legs were twitching, and then he lay still.
She held the scream inside her as the dark shape seemed to become smaller and the wings became a black cloak and then the thing took form of a man. As he turned towards her, she saw the face of the man she loved . . . but there was blood at his mouth, and his fangs were sharp like a wolf's.
Angelina was shaking. She wrapped her arms about herself, trying to control her fear.
“W-Who are you?”
“You know who I am, Angelina.”
“Raphael . . .” She took a hesitant step towards him, but he held out his hand to stop her. “I do not understand . . . Who . . . What are you?” “I am a creature of the damned, condemned to live only at night and to feed on blood. This is what I became when I failed you.”
“Raphael . . . the curse . . .” Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to go to him, but what she had just seen terrified her, and she did not know what to do. “You saved my life . . . but you are damned to a terrible existence.”
“To eternal torment,” he said. “I have lived six hundred years and searched for you in the corners of the earth. Once I thought I had found you, but I was mistaken, and she died for my mistake. I am a vampire, a creature of evil, but in my heart I am still the man who loves you.”
“The girl who fell from the tower . . .” Angelina’s pulse throbbed. “I was warned never to go there.”
“Yet you must if the curse is to be broken.”
“It can be broken?” She moved towards him eagerly, but once again he warned her to stay back.
“I need blood to live. If you come too near, I may be tempted. I would die rather than harm you, but I have only so much control over the beast within.”
She halted, looking at him uncertainly. “Tell me what to do.” “You must set me free. There is only one way. You must strike a wooden stake through my heart just before I wake. Come to me before the dark of night, and do what you must. Only then can I be rid of this curse.”
“Drive a stake through your heart? No, I cannot do it. Please do not ask it of me.”
“Then I am doomed forever . . .”
* * * * Angelina woke with a start. She was alone in her room, and it was growing dark. She shivered as she recalled the terrible dream. It was a nightmare . . . Surely it was a nightmare?
Yet it had seemed so real, as if it were happening to her. Her candles were still burning. She rose from her bed and then looked down at herself. She was wearing the white gown she had been given for her wedding, and it was stained with blood.
How had it gotten like that? Suddenly, she remembered going to Frederick and bending over him, the hem of her gown dipping in blood on the ground by his side. Then she had turned and run away . . . but that meant it wasreal.
How could such a dream be real? She heard one of the many clocks downstairs chiming the half hour. It was half past eleven, and the household was sleeping. Angelina should be in bed too, but she dare not go back to sleep. Turning, she saw the wooden stakeand a hammer lying on the bed. She picked it up and saw that the pointed end was very sharp.
Who had put these things here? Why had she woken at this hour? Raphael wanted her to drive the stake into his heart so that he would be free of the curse that had haunted him so many years.
How
could she kill the man she loved? Yet if she refused this thing he asked, he would be condemned to his torment for perhaps another hundred years. It came to Angelina then that this was what it had all been about. Raphael had taught her the meaning of love between a man and a woman. He had come to her in her dreams every night, because he could not—or dare not—come to her in his present form.
He was afraid that if he visited her as a vampire, he might lose control of the beast within and do her harm. She had only heard vague whispers of such creatures, hardly believing they existed outside the realms of legends, but now she knew it was true.
Her heart ached for Raphael's torment. He would rather be dust than continue as the vile creature the curse had made him—and it was her fault. Had she gone with him through the secret passage that night, the tragedy might have been avoided.
To live without him, the pleasure he had given her, for the rest of her life was unthinkable. She must do as he asked. Picking up the stake and the hammer, Angelina left her bedchamber. She went slowly down the stairs, looking anxiously about her lest she was seen. Candles were burning throughout the house, and she understood why. The servants must know that something evil lurked here during the dark hours, and they hoped to keep it away by keeping the candles burning.
Leaving the main house, Angelina shivered in the cold night air. She had forgotten to put on her cloak, but it did not matter. She must hurry, or it would be too late to release Raphael from his torment this night.
The tower was in darkness when she entered it, but as she climbed the stone steps to the top room, a ray of moonlight entered through the slitted windows. She was trembling, her heart racing with fear. What would she find when she reached the chamber where Raphael lay?
What had happened to the girl who came here a hundred years previously? Would they find Angelina’s body at the foot of the tower in the morning? She almost turned tail and ran, but then a breath of air touched her neck, and she felt a shooting surge of sensual pleasure, almost as if she lay with her lover in her bed. Raphael was helping her as much as he could, giving her courage. This was what she must do if she wanted him to come to her in the flesh—if she were ever to know the happiness of lying with him, she must set him free.