Night's Kiss

by Amanda Ashley

  "Only if you do," she said again.

  "I would be honored to have you as my wife," he said quietly. "I will love you as long as you live."

  As long as she lived. The words hit her like a blast of cold air. In time, she would grow old and feeble. Her skin would wrinkle, her hair would turn gray, her hearing and eyesight would grow dim. But time had no claim on Roshan. In twenty years or a hundred, he would be as he was now—strong and healthy and vigorous, a man forever in his prime.

  Roshan watched the play of emotions on her face, the doubts that rose in her eyes. He didn't have to use his preternatural senses to know what she was thinking. A moment later, her words confirmed his suspicions.

  "Will you still love me when I am no longer young?" she asked, her gaze searching his. "How will you feel when I am old and you are not? When that time comes, will you leave me for someone else? Someone younger?"

  "I will never leave you, Brenna, I swear it. Young or old, I will love you as much as I do tonight."

  Easy words for him to say, she thought. How would she feel when her youth was behind her? Would she resent all that she had given up to spend her life with him? Would she look back and be sorry that she had given up the chance to be a mother? Would her arms forever ache for the children and grandchildren she had never had? When she was an old woman and the fires of youth and passion no longer burned within her, would she grieve for the life she had given up, for the posterity that had never been born? Would she hate him then because he did not age? Would her hatred destroy the love she felt for him now?

  You do not have to grow old. The seductive words crawled through her mind. You have only to become as he is. If she became a vampire, she would stay as she was. They could be together forever. But did she want to be a vampire? To exist only at night, to survive on the blood of others?

  Unbidden, Anthony Loken came to mind. Perhaps there was another way…

  "Brenna?"

  "Yes, Roshan DeLongpre, I will marry you."

  "Name the day, my sweet."

  "Can we have a big wedding?"

  "As big as you wish, though I fear the guests will be few."

  She had not considered that. Strange, she hadn't really missed having friends in this place, she thought. And then she smiled. What need had she for friends when she had Roshan? He filled her every thought, waking or sleeping.

  "I have no need for guests as long as you are there."

  "Only name the day and the place."

  "Oh!" The smile faded from her face and she bit down on her lower lip.

  "What is it? Have you changed your mind already?"

  "No, but… that is… I should like to be married in a church and… can you… you won't… ?"

  "Go up in a puff of smoke? " he asked with a wry grin.

  She nodded, a faint blush pinking her cheeks.

  "A church will be fine," he assured her. "You find yourself a pretty dress and a church you like and leave everything else to me."

  Lying in bed later that night, though she supposed it was actually morning, since the sky was turning light, Brenna thought about all that had happened during the night past. After talking about the wedding, they had made love again, and then Roshan had carried her upstairs. They had taken a quick shower and then Roshan had put her to bed, tucking her in as though she were a child instead of a woman grown. Whispering that he loved her, he had kissed her good night, then left the room.

  Brenna ran her fingertips over her lips, remembering the sweetness of his kiss, the light in his eyes when he told her he loved her. It all seemed unreal somehow. Everything that had happened since the night she first saw him seemed impossible, like something out of a dream. How could she be here, in this place, in this time? If not for Roshan, she would have died at the stake, dead these past three hundred and thirteen years. Instead, she was living in a house unlike anything she had ever known, and she was going to marry a vampire. Strange, how none of what she had believed about vampires seemed to be true where Roshan was concerned. He wasn't a monster with no conscience who killed indiscriminately. He wasn't a horrible creature with foul breath and a misshapen body. Quite the contrary. He was tall and handsome, more handsome than any man she had ever met.

  And he loved her.

  The knowledge filled her with an inner warmth that made her heart glow and brought a smile to her lips.

  He loved her.

  It was her last thought before sleep carried her away, and her first thought when she woke seven hours later.

  Flinging the covers aside, she slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, then dressed quickly in a pair of jeans, a peacock blue sweater, and a pair of boots.

  Going downstairs, she ate a quick breakfast. Grabbing Roshan's car keys and the money he had left for her, she hurried out of the house and headed for the mall. She was going to be a bride, and a bride needed a dress.

  She'd had no idea that finding a dress would be so time consuming, or so much fun. She tried on dozens of gowns, surprised and pleased by the fashions of the day. There were racks and racks of dresses, long white gowns of satin and silk and taffeta. Some were quite daring. Cut low, they bared her arms and her shoulders and an expanse of cleavage that, in her time, would have-been considered scandalous. Others, with modest necklines and long sleeves, were so demure that even Granny O'Connell would have approved. Brenna tried them all on, long and short, modern and old-fashioned, finally settling on a silk gown with a beaded bodice, long sleeves, and a slim skirt with a short train.

  Next, she tried on veils. Some were shoulder-length, others trailed gracefully down her back to the floor. They came with a variety of headpieces, some elaborate, some simple in their elegance. The veil she decided on was shoulder-length, the headpiece a simple beaded circlet.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, she wondered what Roshan would think. Would he have preferred a more revealing gown? Something with a lower neckline and a shorter skirt?

  Brenna looked at the saleslady. "Do I look all right?"

  "Oh, my dear, you look like a princess out of a fairy tale."

  Brenna smiled at her reflection. "I'll take it," she said, for her life was nothing these days if not a fairy tale.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 20

  Anthony Loken prowled through his laboratory, his brow furrowed. His experiments on Roger West had proved most disappointing. Having the boy drink the vampire's blood had not proven any more successful than injecting it straight into the boy's veins. In the end, West had died a rather gruesome death. His body had violently rejected the vampire's blood and he had slowly shriveled up until, at the end, he had looked rather like a human dried apple.

  Loken had tossed what was left of West's body into the hearth. The ensuing stench had been most unpleasant.

  Loken filled several clean vials with the vampire's blood and placed them on a rack, which he then placed in the refrigerator, along with the rest of the vampire's blood.

  The examination table was clean.

  The blood was ready.

  All he needed now was a new guinea pig.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 21

  Brenna paced in front of the hearth, sat down, and stared at the images on the television screen, only to rise and pace again.

  Where was Roshan? She was eager to see him, eager to share her day with him. Why, tonight of all nights, did he have to be so late?

  Sensing her apprehension, Morgana meowed loudly from her perch on the back of the sofa.

  "He will be here," Brenna told the cat. "He probably went out to… you know. Eat or drink or whatever he calls it."

  "Indeed, he did."

  Whirling around at the welcome sound of his voice, she flew across the floor into Roshan's arms.

  "Miss me, did you?" he asked as she showered him with kisses.

  "Maybe a little," she confessed.

  He lifted one black brow. "Only a little?"

  "All right, more than a li
ttle." Taking him by the hand, she led him to the sofa. Sitting, she drew him down beside her. "Where have you been?"

  "Just where you think. It's not so easy to find prey in the early part of the evening. Far easier to hunt late at night."

  "Then why did you not wait until later?"

  "Because I don't trust myself to be alone with you when I've not fed," he replied candidly.

  "Oh."

  "So, tell me about your day."

  "It was wonderful!"

  He smiled at her, charmed by her exuberance and the way her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Indeed? What did you do that put that glow in your eyes?"

  "I went shopping, of course. Oh, Roshan, I bought the most beautiful gown! Wait until you see it! And shoes. And a veil. And underwear," she added, her cheeks turning pink. Such scanty undergarments, hardly more than a few scraps of white lace sewn together.

  "If it makes you blush, I can scarcely wait to see it."

  "There is not much to see." The admission made her cheeks grow hotter.

  He laughed softly. "Did you find a church, as well?"

  "Not yet."

  "We can look this evening, if you wish."

  "Will they not be closed at this time of night?"

  He lifted one dark brow.

  Brenna grinned ruefully. Of course. He was a vampire. Locked doors meant little to him.

  "Have you eaten?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Shall we go then?"

  She had expected to take the car, but he assured her he knew a quicker means of travel. With his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he transported them to one of the churches in the city. And when it wasn't to her liking, he took her to another and then another.

  In spite of Roshan's assurances that he wouldn't go up in flames, she watched him carefully every time they crossed a threshold. She had been told that vampires couldn't enter churches, that crosses repelled them. More falsehoods, she thought.

  "But what about holy water?" she asked as they walked down the center aisle of a beautiful Catholic church.

  "Holy water burns, if you'll pardon the expression, like the very devil, and renders me helpless for a short time."

  She laughed in spite of herself. It seemed wrong to laugh in such a place. Even the statue of the Virgin Mary seemed to be frowning her disapproval as the sound echoed eerily off the walls and the vaulted ceiling.

  "So?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "It is beautiful but cold."

  Moments later, he had transported them to a small chapel far from the city.

  Brenna loved it immediately. The altar and the pews were carved from oak. Moonlight shone through a stained glass window above the altar. The carpet was a deep blue. But it was the sense of peace that she found most appealing.

  "I had a feeling you'd like this one," Roshan remarked.

  "Then why did we come here last?"

  "Because I knew you wouldn't be happy until you'd seen them all."

  "Oh, you think you are so smart!"

  Drawing her into his arms, he hugged her. "No, but I do think I know you pretty well."

  She looked up into his eyes. Desire sparked between them and only the fact that they were in a church kept him from making love to her then and there.

  Leaving the building, they walked hand in hand in the moonlight. It was a pretty spot. Tall trees and lush greenery surrounded the church, which looked almost ghostly in title light of the full moon. The air was filled with the fragrant scent of evergreens and rain-dampened earth. Night birds called to each other, their cries combining with the chirp of crickets and the croaking of a bullfrog to create a midnight symphony.

  "Where will we find a priest to marry us?" Brenna asked as they followed a narrow trail through the trees.

  "I know someone," Roshan replied.

  "A vampire," Brenna guessed.

  "Yes. He was a priest before he was turned. I'm not sure the marriage will be legal in the eyes of the state."

  "It is more important that we be married in the eyes of the Lord," Brenna replied, then frowned. "I thought you said you did not have any friends among the vampires."

  "I'm not sure Father Lanzoni qualifies as a friend. I haven't seen him in the last thirty or forty years."

  "Mayhap he will not wish to perform the ceremony."

  "Not to worry," Roshan said, squeezing her hand. "Just name the day." He grinned at her. "Or should I say the night?"

  "Would tomorrow night be too soon?"

  "I don't think so. I'll call Father Lanzoni when we get home."

  Brenna's heart swelled with excitement. Tomorrow night she would be Roshan's wife. Mrs. Roshan DeLongpre. "Oh! Will we not need someone to stand up with us to witness our marriage?"

  Roshan grunted softly. "I suppose so."

  "I have no friends in the city save for Myra at the bookstore. Would it be all right for me to ask her?"

  "Sure, if that's what you want."

  "Who will stand beside you?" Brenna asked.

  "That's a good question. Perhaps Father Lanzoni knows of someone."

  "Mrs. Brenna DeLongpre," she murmured. "It sounds pretty, does it not?"

  "It sounds perfect," he said, drawing her into his arms. As always, she pressed herself against him, her face lifting for his kiss, her eyes shining with love and happiness.

  He gazed down at her a moment, wondering at his good fortune in finding her. Had it been the hand of fate that made him chose Ancient History and Myths, Fact or Fiction from the shelf the night he had been thinking of destroying himself? Was it possible that he and Brenna were always meant to be together? Had Zerena cursed him with the Dark Trick so that he would be able to travel back in time to save Brenna from the flames?

  He shook his head, amused by the turn of his thoughts.

  "What are you smiling at?" Brenna asked.

  "I was thinking about us," he said.

  "That always makes me smile, too."

  He laughed softly, his hands lightly kneading her shoulders and then, unable to wait any longer, he lowered his head and kissed her.

  Sweet, he thought, sweeter than the wine of the gods. Sweeter man the barely remembered taste of his mother's plum jelly. He ran his tongue along Brenna's lower lip, savoring the taste, the softness, before plundering the sweetness within. Desire sparked between them and he cupped her buttocks in his hands, pressing her body closer to his.

  She moaned softly, her tongue dueling with his. She ran her hands over his chest, down his arms, reveling in his strength, marveling that a man as strong and powerful as Roshan could be so tender, so very, very gentle. His strength excited her, made her feel small and helpless, but in a good way, because they both knew she wasn't helpless.

  With a sigh of regret, Roshan put her away from him.

  Brenna made a soft sound of protest deep in her throat. "Why did you stop?"

  He shrugged sheepishly. "I don't know. It just seems wrong to ravish you the night before we're to be married."

  She made a face at him. "But it was all right last night?"

  "Indeed it was, but don't ask me why."

  She smiled up at him. "I had no idea you were so gallant," she said, linking her arm with his. "I wonder what else I shall discover about you in the nights to come."

  "I can't imagine," he muttered.

  Walking back to the church, he couldn't help thinking that marriage to Brenna Flanagan was likely to be a great deal of fun, something that had been sorely missing in his life these past two hundred and eighty-six years.

  Brenna arrived at the bookstore shortly after it opened the following morning.

  Myra greeted her warmly. "You're early today." She tilted her head to one side. "You look as if you've swallowed a piece of the sun. Tell me, what has put that glow in your eyes?"

  "I came to ask you a favor."

  "Well, as long as it isn't illegal, consider it done."

  Brenna bit down on her lip. Roshan had said the marriage wouldn't be recognized by the st
ate.

  "You're not planning a bank heist or anything are you?" Myra asked.

  "No, I am getting married."

  "Well, no wonder you're grinning like the Cheshire cat. Congratulations! Who's the lucky man?"

  "His name is Roshan. I do not know anyone in this city and I… well, I need someone to stand up with me, and I was wondering, if you are not busy, if you would… ?"

  Myra took Brenna's hands in hers. "My dear, I'd love to."

  "Oh, thank you."

  "So, when's the happy occasion?"

  "Tonight, at nine." She had found a note from Roshan on her bedside table this morning. In it, he had told her that he had spoken to Father Lanzoni and the priest had agreed to marry them that night.

  "Tonight!" Myra exclaimed.

  Brenna nodded. "I know it seems rather sudden but…" She felt herself blushing. "We did not want to wait any longer. I know I should have given you more notice, but"—she shrugged—"neither Roshan nor I have any family, and…"

  "I quite understand," Myra said, patting Brenna's shoulder. "Young love and all, but my dear, that hardly gives me time to find a dress, let alone shoes! Sarafina," she called, "cover for me, won't you? I'm going shopping."

  After giving Myra directions to the church and bidding her farewell, Brenna returned to the house. Too excited to sit still, she dusted the furniture, vacuumed the carpets, did a load of wash, put away the dishes in the dishwasher, and still she had hours to wait until sundown.

  Finally, she sat down on the sofa and turned on the television, hoping to find a movie that would distract her. After flipping through the channels, she settled on a movie she had seen before. She knew the title now: Ladyhawke. There was something haunting about the story of a gallant knight and a woman who had been cursed by an evil clergyman.

  Moments later, Morgana jumped up on the sofa, demanding her attention.

  Brenna smiled at the cat as she scratched her ears. "Do you know that I am getting married tonight?" she murmured. "Think of it I will be Mrs. Roshan DeLongpre."