He tapped his signet ring with a soft tink…tink against the glass. “It’s important you answer the question, though I understand it’s quite personal.”
“Why is it important?” she asked in a tiny voice.
He’d taken a lock of her hair and was twining it loosely around one finger. Brenna’s spine was so stiff she thought it might crack if she moved an inch.
“Because sharing your blood with me is an intimate act. I only take bleeders who are completely and utterly free. In order to avoid messy complications with jealous lovers, of course.”
Brenna clenched her hands in her skirt, her heart pounding like that of a hunted doe. There was no possible way to conceal her chest rising and falling too quickly.
“So I ask again, Miss Snow. Do you have any lovers?”
Chapter Two
Mmm. Miss Snow. She looked absolutely delicious, even in that horrific frock, and especially since he’d knocked her completely off-center. Raven-black hair, cream-white skin, rosebud lips that were slightly parted as she tried to catch her breath. He longed to lean forward and open her mouth wider with his own to get a good, long taste.
To say Friedrich was delighted to see her accidentally stumble into the Rose Courtyard was an understatement. And now she looked like a sweet little kitten who’d tumbled into the lion’s den, all bright-eyed and startled. He was more than ready to play.
He knew why she’d come to the castle. She’d been here on at least three other occasions. He’d told Grant what information to let slip to his woman, Sylvia. He wasn’t sure what Miss Snow’s involvement with the Black Lily was, but he sure as hell planned to find out. With his uncle, King Dominik, sending his own spies to watch him, he’d take no chances which side she was on till he was absolutely certain. If she’d been coerced to spy for his uncle—or worse, been bitten and was under the influence of his powerful elixir of persuasion—Friedrich aimed to discover it. A miscalculation could mean his own death.
Two times, he’d visited the schoolhouse in Terrington. Once, a sweet little blonde girl had painted a black lily and mentioned that an unknown “she” would save them all. Miss Snow had tried to swiftly cover for the girl’s wild imagination as she’d called it. The second visit was shortly after he’d left the Glass Tower, seeking more information on this rising resistance. But the only thing he got was an earful of his shortcomings as duke of the region since the children suffered most. Specifically, the many orphans she taught. She was feisty, impertinent, and stubborn. And fine, passionate, and clever. She was also uniquely beautiful. Like a rare night flower that only bloomed under the moon—so cool and dark and white.
And now he’d finally caught her in a position out of her control. He should be merciful and offer her some sort of escape. She wasn’t there to offer herself as a bleeder. But how long would she uphold this pretense to avoid telling him the truth? Would she go through with it? His fangs ached at the thought. He was enjoying this far too much to let her slip through the net easily.
“Are you well, Miss Snow?” He twined a silky lock of hair around his finger, tugging softly to remind her he was there. “Oh, I see.” He took one of her dainty hands in both of his, resting them on his knee as he stroked her knuckles. “I apologize. This will be your first time as a bleeder, won’t it?”
She had the widest, sweetest brown eyes. Warm and innocent, but also intelligent. They suited her well. Always keen and searching. Except now. He’d knocked her senseless with his untoward questions. He might’ve felt guilty if he wasn’t enjoying the sound of her hummingbird heartbeat pulsing in that slender, pale throat of hers.
“Do not worry,” he assured her, brushing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles again, noting that her palm was sweaty against his fingers. “The prick is a little painful. At first. But you’ll only remember the pleasure.” Then he smiled, and those guileless eyes widened even further, her lips forming a surprised O, which made his cock stiffen in his trousers. “And I will be gentle. I promise.” The first time anyway.
She tugged her hand free and shot to her feet, letting her shawl fall to the chaise then paced toward the hearth. “Your Grace. There is something I must tell you.”
“Oh?”
“I—I did not come here to be your bleeder tonight.”
“You didn’t?” He tried to sound surprised.
“No.” She turned to face him and lifted her delicate chin. “It was the only way I thought I could meet with you privately with your busy schedule.”
“Really? I certainly would’ve made time for you if you’d only asked.”
She winced. It was a lame excuse. She stumbled forward anyway.
“I wanted to speak to you…about the children.”
“Your pupils? What about them?”
“They um. I mean, that is, we uh”—she stopped her pacing as if she’d finally figured it out and turned resolutely, eyes bright—“we need a new stove.”
“A new stove.”
“Yes. A new wood stove for warmth.”
He stood and moved toward her with unhurried steps, holding her gaze. Propping an arm on the mantel, he realized how much larger he was than her. So petite yet curvy in the right places. He could wrap both hands around her waist and touch his fingers on both sides. Yet even as he towered over her, she didn’t back away. Rather the opposite, that impertinent chin lifted higher. Wonderful.
“What you’re telling me,” he continued, noting the delicate lines of her collarbone as her breath quickened, “is that you volunteered yourself at the Rose Courtyard in the hopes that I might choose you for the night, because you wanted my undivided attention to ask me to provide the schoolhouse with a new wood stove.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for one second then opened them. “Yes. And, well, to be quite honest, we need new flooring as well. You see, the winters are so cold and the old building is drafty. The children can hardly focus on reading or their sums when they’re freezing.”
While he thought at first this was a ruse, the sincerity in her expression told him it was not. His wayward thoughts flicked to the children, his gut clenching at the idea of them fighting to keep warm. It was his responsibility to maintain and look after the welfare of the village schoolhouse, as well as the post office, the town hall, and the courthouse.
“I’ll send workers at dawn. The renovation will be complete in three days. You’ll instruct the children’s parents not to send them until it is done. Understood?”
Her eyes widened impossibly more. She nodded. “Th-thank you.”
“But know this, kitten.” He lifted his hand and curled his fingers around her delicate neck, resting his thumb on her collarbone. Leaning close to her ear, he grazed his lips on the small shell. “I know this is not the reason you came here tonight.” Unable to resist, he swiped his tongue at the spot below her ear. Her soft whimper made his cock press painfully against his trousers. “I’ll get the words I want from your sweet mouth. I’ll get a whole lot more before we’re finally done.” He opened his lips and gave her a tender, suckling kiss on her rose-in-winter scented skin, stifling a groan.
He stood straight, still improperly close, staring down while visions of her pale, beautiful body writhing beneath him, his fangs and cock deep inside her, threatened to overwhelm him. That wasn’t his original goal when he’d seen her in the courtyard and decided to play with the straight-and-narrow Miss Snow. But now that he’d stolen a brief taste, he knew himself well enough to know she had no chance of escape now.
“Grant!”
The man stepped inside in a blink. “Your Grace?”
Still holding her shocked gaze, he ordered, “Get Mixon to bring a carriage around and escort Miss Snow home safely.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Miss Snow, if you’ll follow me.”
She broke from their trance and turned robotically for the door. Before she reached it, he stopped her.
“Miss Snow.”
She froze but didn’t turn. Lifting her shawl from where it had f
allen, he stepped up behind her and wrapped the ends across her chest, squeezing her arms and holding her within his embrace for a moment before he dipped his mouth to her ear again.
“Good night, kitten. Sweet dreams.”
She made not a sound. All he heard was the rapid thrumming of her birdlike pulse, confirming his effect on her was more than she let on.
He released her and watched as she scurried out the door without a backward glance. Grant arched a brow at him. Friedrich chuckled.
“Report back after you see her home.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Then he disappeared after her.
He wanted a full accounting of her life for the hunt ahead. She wasn’t the kind of woman to give herself easily. But she’d never known a man or vampire like him. He always got what he wanted. And right now, he wanted nothing more in the wide world than the complete and absolute submission of the lovely Miss Snow.
Chapter Three
“Seven?” Friedrich could hardly believe it as he leaned back in his desk chair.
“Aye,” said Grant with a grin. “Seven children.”
“But bloody hell, how? She can’t be more than five and twenty years old.” She’d have to had started having children when she was a young teenager. “And what sorry excuse of a man would saddle her with seven children?”
“She’s twenty-three,” added Grant. “And she gave birth to none of them.”
Friedrich took in his amused grin, realization dawning. He wanted to throttle the man. “You bloody bastard. I was about to go hunt down the man who couldn’t keep his cock in his pants long enough for her to breathe.”
Grant laughed. “That’s a lie. You wanted to kill the man for beating you to it.”
Friedrich couldn’t deny it. “I take it those are the orphans she scorned me about a month ago.”
“Aye.”
“She has a house large enough for them all? What kind of salary do I pay the schoolteacher anyway?” His estate manager, Henley, handled the organization and salary payments for local businesses he supported as part of the dukedom.
“She doesn’t make enough to keep the house she has with that many children on her own.” Grant’s jovial demeanor melted into a serious one. “But I have an idea where she may be getting more money.”
“I don’t like that look. Tell me.”
“I’ve been watching the house for a fortnight now as you asked. Ever since the second time she asked Sylvia for information. I stay till ten every night. Last night, as I was about to leave, she had a late visitor.” Grant’s gaze shifted away from him. Not good.
“Out with it.”
“It was a man. But not one from around here.”
A flame of anger licked up Friedrich’s spine. He knew it was jealousy, which only made him angrier. An unfamiliar emotion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman he couldn’t have the instant he desired her. Actually, he wasn’t sure he’d experienced envy for the sake of a woman. Ever. How peculiar.
“Go on. Tell me what you know.”
Grant leaned forward, elbows on knees. “He came at ten and left promptly at midnight. She fussed about him at the door. Tucked his traveling pack closed, made sure his coat collar was tight about his neck. The older daughter stood at the door with her, then he was off.”
That was somewhat of a relief. This man didn’t feel an ounce of what Friedrich felt for her if he said farewell without even a kiss. Still, the fact that another man was paying late-night visits set his blood boiling. It didn’t bode well for the hunt if she was in a settled relationship.
“How do you know he wasn’t from around here?”
“I know everyone from Terrington.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall. Black hair. Not a big fellow, but not small, either. Maybe a field hand somewhere in another town. I figure he might help her with the expenses for the young ones, maybe. Or he travels and picks up jobs where he can. That pack of his looked like it had gotten some use, and he seemed accustomed to being on the move.”
“Which direction was he headed?” asked Friedrich, not liking this tall, dark fellow at all.
“He took the west road. Toward Ferriday.”
Friedrich tapped his forefinger bearing his signet ring on the desk. “So we have a schoolteacher who moved here three years ago shortly after her father died in Korinth. She has money or some income to keep a large house big enough for seven children whom she clothes and feeds while also holding a position as our local schoolteacher. And she has a mysterious man who visits on occasion in the secret of night.”
Grant gave a deep nod. “That about sums it up.”
“And where is she now?”
He shrugged. “I imagine she’s at the schoolhouse. Been there every day since the renovations started.”
“Good.” Friedrich launched to his feet and started moving. “It’s about time I checked in on the renovations myself.”
Once mounted on his favorite horse, an Arkadian-bred stallion named Ramiel, he tore out of the castle gates toward Terrington. A clean sheet of snow blanketed the rolling hills and dusted the trees lining the road down into the village beneath Winter Hill. His dukedom extended as far west as Ferriday and east to Millerville.
Terrington was a pretty town with white-washed stone buildings and dark thatched rooves, the shutters painted bright red—the color of his arms as well as that of King Dominik—starkly contrasting with the stone and almost constant snow. This far north, there were very few months without a layer upon the ground.
Slowing Ramiel as he trotted through town, he tipped his hat to those bustling here and there.
“Mornin’, Your Grace,” called the town bailiff with the tip of his hat, his silver-white hair shining.
“Morning, Mr. Kerrigan.”
Smoke unfurled from every chimney. The people were smiling. Terrington seemed untouched by the darkness of the blood madness Marius had told him had infected the region around the imperial palace, the Glass Tower. And yet, Miss Snow’s orphans puzzled him. What happened to their parents? He’d need many conversations with the lovely schoolteacher to determine whether his region had in fact been touched by this vampire disease taking root and stealing innocent human lives. He trotted past the milliner’s shop, the last as the road broadened and forked onto homesteads. The red-painted schoolhouse was a bright beacon in a land of white, fields rolling away behind it. One loan elm tree, naked of any leaves, stood in the front yard. Underneath this tree, masons gathered for what appeared to be their break for luncheon. Head mason, George Dawson, nodded with a smile at his approach. Friedrich dismounted and wrapped the reins on the hitching post.
“Good morning, Your Grace. Come to see our progress?”
“Yes. How is the work coming along?”
“All finished,” he said with pride. “In three days as you requested.”
George was a young man, much too young to be head mason, but his father, who was the former head, died from a fever last year and the Masonry Guild voted him to be the best for the position.
“Great work. And Miss Snow, has she been to see the results?”
“Miss Snow?” The man’s eyes lit up, his smile creasing wider with a nervous laugh. No, an infatuated one. “Oh, yes. She’s been here every day. Restocking books now,” he said with a look of longing toward the schoolhouse.
“Good day, then.” He strode to the front porch.
It seemed Miss Snow had another admirer. And why wouldn’t she? Beautiful didn’t describe her properly. Lovely. Stunning, more like. The contrast of her pale skin, dark hair, and red lips could make a man lose his senses. Her petite frame belied the sweet curves she hid beneath that horrible gray frock she always wore, covering too much of her breasts and not showing enough of the rounded hips he detected when she walked and her skirts moved with her feminine sway. What was even more attractive was her complete obliviousness to her effect on the opposite sex. She had no idea what men were thinking when they la
id eyes on her. But he did. He glared back at the head mason still staring at the schoolhouse.
Taking the steps in one bound, he was up and across the porch and through the door when he suddenly felt like he’d been hurled into a brick wall. There she was across the room on her hands and knees, pert, round ass in the air as she stacked books on the bottom shelf. His cock went stone hard in an instant. His fangs pricked.
“Good morning, Miss Snow.”
She started and looked over her shoulder. Now that position gave him all manner of filthy ideas. Then she was on her feet, wiping her hands in the apron she wore over her ghastly gray frock. Her dark hair was pulled back as usual. He longed to see it down around her shoulders. Her naked shoulders. One day.
As he moved closer, he sensed the steady rise in her heart rate.
“Your Grace.” She dipped in a curtsy, her hands still wringing out her apron. “I can’t thank you enough for the renovations.” A smudge of dirt smeared the apple of her cheek.
“My pleasure.” He held her lovely brown gaze for a moment before walking along the shelves. “And do they all meet with your approval?” He sighted the larger heating furnace he had installed in the corner near her desk, pleased that it seemed to warm the room nicely.
“Oh, yes. I can’t feel a chill at all under my feet. The children will be delighted.”
Joy suffused her voice. A pretty blush flushed her cheeks.
“I am happy you are happy.” He found that to be true more than mere polite conversation.
She cleared her throat and smoothed her apron. “Well, thank you for checking in. As you can see, the renovations are superb.”
Stepping closer, “Are you dismissing me, Miss Snow?”
Brown eyes widened. She kept her ground as he moved into her personal space. “No, no. Of course not.” She watched him raise his hand but didn’t flinch away.
“I’d like to speak with you further about the school.” He lightly cupped her face and swiped the dirt from her cheek with his thumb before dropping his hand. “And the orphans you’ve mentioned.”
The White Lily (Vampire Blood series) Page 2