“No.” The word broke from his throat. She had to stay. It had taken every ounce of strength he possessed to compel her to come. He didn’t know if he would be strong enough to bring her back again.
* * * *
Abby dragged her knees closer to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. What was happening to her? Instead of rushing around the room trying to find something to wear, she sat on the bed wondering about the man who’d left her at her request.
Though he’d come across as overbearing and demanding, she sensed no malice in him. And she’d always been able to trust her instincts which were always eerily accurate.
Her grandmother had told her she’d been an intuitive child, and over the years, that gift had only gotten stronger. Abby could read people, know almost instantaneously what they wanted out of life, the means they’d take to achieve their goals, and how much evil resided within them.
But it had been tougher to read the Duke. She’d seen desperation in the depths of his eyes and something more—a touch of pain, which made her want to stay, to find out what had caused the it and if she could somehow ease it. She had no idea why she’d wanted him to kiss her, though.
One second she had been prepared to lambast him, and the next…her face flushed. She’d had few relationships over the past years, preferring to focus on her career. Her last date had been some time last year which was a little pathetic now that she thought about it.
But Nathaniel. He was different. She wanted so much more than just one kiss. Something about him mesmerized her. Took her by surprise and suppressed her will so she’d succumbed to his.
And with just one kiss he’d made her feel alive and sexier than she’d felt in the longest time.
Shaking her head, Abby dropped her legs to the side of the bed and stood, testing her own strength. Grateful the dizziness had passed, she padded across the solid flooring toward the door. With one hand closed around the doorknob, she swung open the hard wood and stepped out into the hallway.
The corridor was dark and uninviting, but Abby moved with sure steps toward the parlor, instinctively knowing where Nathaniel was. He’d shocked the hell out of her with his words, and now that she’d had the chance to regroup, she needed answers.
The door to the study was open, and she saw him standing by the gothic window, his back to her. His broad shoulders obliterated her view of the panes, and she found her eyes traveling down to his muscular backside encased in snug-fitting black pants. Her mouth watered.
“I’ve been expecting you.” The Duke’s voice didn’t startle her, and Abby wondered if she’d dropped into some alternate dimension.
“For someone who insists he knows what I want, you’re a little dense. You didn’t think I’d want answers after you dropped that bombshell on me?”
“You were not ready.”
“Why do you get to decide that?” Her voice held censure as well as curiosity.
“It wasn’t difficult to deduce.” He still hadn’t faced her, and irritation propelled her forward. “I felt your panic. Destiny frightens you.”
“There’s that word again.”
He turned, and his eyes, hot chips of blue, blazed into hers. “Not talking about it won’t make it go away. “
“Obviously not, but harping on it will make me go away. And will you stop looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to kiss me.” She paused. “Again.”
Nathaniel moved away from the window, toward her. With infinite grace, he swept out a hand toward the nearest chair. “I’ve always heard that asking for seconds was a compliment to the chef.”
Heat raced up her neck and enveloped her face. Good Lord. Did the man have a manual, something telling him the right thing to say to disarm a woman? Abby sat, afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her for much longer. “Why did you welcome me home after we kissed?”
“Because that’s where you are.”
“Your home. Not mine.”
He nodded slowly. “I knew you would need time to absorb my words.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” She blew out a breath. “Will you tell me why you don’t want me to leave?”
His face hardened, and he sat down across from her, dropping his hands between his splayed knees. “You would not understand.”
“Do you really think keeping me in the dark is going to convince me to stay?”
He inclined his dark head. “Perhaps not.” Nathaniel shifted, his muscles bunching beneath his shirt. His hard features, chiseled from stone, softened momentarily. “But maybe it would be best to give you some time to adjust.”
Abby sat up straight in the chair, every muscle in her body attuned to his words, every nuance. “Time to adjust to what?” She managed to swallow past the lump in her throat but didn’t take her eyes off his face. She saw no deception there, just blatant honesty. That scared her more than the thought of a lie.
“Your new life.”
Her heart began a rapid thump inside her chest. “You mean here?”
Hands folded, he met her stare boldly. “Yes. Now that you’re here, Abigail, I can’t allow to you leave.”
Abby struggled to breathe as her Irish temper flared. “You cannot allow. I see. Your Grace, are you aware of what year it is? Are you aware that women can make their own choices now? I don’t know if you fell asleep and woke in the wrong century, but here, we have freedom to come and go as we please. We can walk away.” She stood, brushed her hands down the front of the flimsy nightgown she still wore. “Which is exactly what I’m going to do.”
He had approached her again without her knowledge. That thought alone was enough to frighten her into backing against the closest wall. She wanted to push him away, but his closeness was overpowering, drugging, almost. Her hands came up to rest against the span of his chest. The steady beat of his heart should have reassured her. He was alive, a normal male. Okay, well, maybe not normal, but he was at least a male, a man who with the sheer magnetism of his presence was attempting to overwhelm her.
Gathering her resolve, Abby began to inch along the wall. “So if you will excuse me, I’ll just be…”
Nathaniel had moved swiftly, one hand pressed against the door to prevent her escape. “Abigail, I need you to stay.”
She blinked up at him, and her world tilted slightly. She couldn’t have mistaken the catch in his voice. “Tell me why.”
“It is a long story.”
“It would appear I have all night.”
“I am cursed,” he spoke harshly, stepping away from her, his hands dropping to his sides. He spun around, presenting his back.
Abby bit down on her lower lip and considered his words carefully. “Cursed how? You mean like possessed or do you just have bad luck?”
He gave a cold laugh which chilled her. “Bad luck? No, this is far more than bad luck.” He pivoted to face her in slow motion. “I was born July 3rd.”
Her brow furrowed. “Okay. So that makes you, what, a Cancer? So what?”
“1702,” he added.
The furrow deepened. “1702? What about it?”
He sighed, though it came out more like a huff of air. “I was born July 3, 1702.”
Abby laughed. “Yeah. Right. And I’m Joan of Arc. That would make you over three hundred years old, and while I watch a lot of strange television shows, I’m not so stupid as to believe a man could still be living, looking as good as you do, at three hundred years of age. So nice try, but you can’t be that old. It’s physically impossible.”
The Duke didn’t speak, simply stood, arms folded, waiting for disbelief to segue into belief, for Abby to step into a world where impossibilities existed.
Her eyes widened. “That’s impossible.”
“That is my curse.”
“Age is your curse?”
“Immortality is my curse, at least a portion of it.”
Perspiration pooled between her breasts. “Could you speak in English here because, while I’m
open to the supernatural and unusual phenomenon and all that stuff, I’m really having a hard time with this one?”
“As well you should.” He was back in front of her. How was he able to move without her seeing him? Yet, each time he drew near, she felt him, the heat from his skin.
“Are you going to explain it to me?”
“I think I’ve told you enough for the night. You should rest.”
“Like I’m going to be able to sleep until you tell me the rest of the story. Come on. You can’t expect me to go to sleep with this hanging over my head. I mean, you tell me you’re a three hundred year old immortal with a curse and then expect me to count sheep.” Abby hardened her own voice, her determination strong. “I want some more answers, and I mean the entire truth. I think, at the very least, you could give me that much.”
Nathaniel muttered a curse. “You know how to try a man’s patience.”
“It’s a gift. Now let’s have it.”
“Abigail, there are things in this world that cannot be explained, things that mere mortals should not know.”
“Let me guess. I’m one of those mere mortals.” Abby folded her arms, determined to keep a brave face regardless of the secret the Duke held up his elegantly tailored sleeve
“You would be better of not knowing…at least not yet.”
“You’d rather I leave then? Because I can have a cab here like,” she snapped her fingers, “that.”
He walked away from her, his back ramrod straight. The dimness in the room his most of his body from her, but she could still make out the silky length of his hair. Her fingers itched to touch it, and she almost hated herself for that.
She knew precious little about this man, and yet, she felt strangely drawn to him, like he could give her information about herself even she didn’t know. As crazy as it sounded, Abby had to know what he was hiding before she left.
“It is not always as easy to hear the truth. In fact, sometimes it’s more difficult than revealing it.”
“Give me more credit than that. You just told me you’re three hundred plus years old, and I didn’t fall headfirst into hysterics.”
“That is the least of my life, Abigail. Trust me when I tell you it’s better to receive the information a little at a time.”
“Oh, I see. You get to spout things like destiny and curses, and I’m supposed to just take it docilely, just let the big, strong man tell me what he thinks I need to know.” She marched over to where he stood and tapped his chest with her index finger. “Well, step into the 21st century. I’ve been all across this world, have seen some of the worst tragedies known to mankind, and very little scares me.”
Nathaniel moved so suddenly she felt the wind as he pushed her against the wall. His hands bracketed her as his hard body pressed into her curves. His eyes when they stared into hers were an endless pool of fire and fury. And his voice, when he spoke, was deep, guttural and exceptionally dangerous. “You haven’t asked me how I can be immortal, Abigail.”
She swallowed. A lump lodged in her throat. She tried again, but her mouth was too dry. Perhaps, she really didn’t want to know, after all. Wasn’t this always the part in the movie where the woman made a dignified exit? “I thought you said that was your curse.”
“Actually,” he smiled, his lips parting enough to allow her a brief glimpse of sharp, white fangs, “this is my curse.”
She willed herself not to faint. She would stay upright. Fainting was for sissies and women who waved fans in front of their faces, while batting their eyes at brawny men in armor. She had more strength than that…she hoped.
Questions flowed through her mind, some she wasn’t sure she wanted answers to. Biting her lower lip, she looked up into the dark eyes that now held desperation and a hint of resolve, like now that he told her, he knew she’d run.
A very large point of her wanted to, that part that held common sense, but there went those damned instincts again.
Think, Abby. He’s not going to kill you. You’d be dead by now if that was his intention. So what other nefarious purpose does he have in mind for you, if any? “You can’t be a vampire. I heard your heartbeat, felt your breath.”
“I didn’t become a vampire in the customary manner.”
“Oh, yes, how could I forget that? You were cursed, and now, you drink blood. I guess this is always the part where the woman runs screaming down the hall, and you miss out on another supper.” Sarcasm had always served her well in times of desperation. Things couldn’t be more desperate than they were at that exact moment.
Nathaniel drew back and blinked at her, momentarily taken aback, which was a plus for her.
If she could keep him off-guard, maybe she’d find out the whole story about because her instincts were telling her there was so much more to Nathaniel’s change than just a bite on the neck. Whatever the tale, he’d had plenty of time to offer her to drain her blood, and since she was still walking around in one piece, that had to mean she wasn’t in any danger…at least not imminent danger anyway.
Or maybe just a different kind of trouble. The way he looked at her now clearly said he had other plans for her. Probably something dark and dangerous. Sensual. The one word sent a tingle from the top of her head to her toes. Well, she’d stuck it out this far, she might as well hang around for the ending
Nathaniel surveyed her with a steady gaze. “You’re not afraid.” The statement held a tone of awe which she waved away.
“Should I be?”
“Most women would be.”
“I’m not most women.” She tapped her chin with one finger. “Your expression told me I was right, that were cursed as a vampire. Does that kind of stuff actually happen?” Her shoulders lifted as she laughed. “What am I asking? I’m standing in the same room with a vampire asking if curses really exist.”
“The hour is late.” Nathaniel interrupted her conversation, cupped her elbow in his hand, and began to tug her toward the door. “We will have plenty of time to discuss this later. For now, you are exhausted. I can see it in your eyes. You need to sleep.”
She shook her head. “Like that’s going to happen.” She broke free of his embrace. “If you truly are a vampire, then the night is just beginning for you. And now that I’ve seen fangs, I want facts. Are you keeping me here so that your stomach won’t rumble? I just want to know if I’m supposed to be your dinner for the next few evenings.” A little dose of humor was her way of getting him to open up…and reassuring herself she wasn’t on the menu.
He smiled. “No. I will not be drinking your blood this evening.”
“You’re supposed to add or any other evening,” she pointed out with a touch of edginess in her voice. When the vampire remained stoically silent, she winced. “Okay, so eventually, you’re going to drag me into the world of the undead. I’m sure you’ll pardon me for asking. Why? Why me?”
“Whether or not you can see it now, you are my destiny, and I am yours. I would never do anything to harm you. Is that not sufficient enough reassurance?”
She would have preferred a “no, I’m not going to drain your blood until you join me on the dark side”, but she’d take what she could get. “I just need to know if you intend on changing me.” Like he hadn’t already. She doubted her life could ever be the same after this. How often was it a woman met an 18th century immortal duke?
He took her hand and began leading her to the door. “Go to bed now, Abigail. I have provided you with enough information this evening.”
“I’ll go when I’m ready.” She peeled his fingers away from her arm. “Do you sleep in a coffin?”
The question brought a smile to his face. “You have watched Dracula, I see.”
“Yeah, well, it was the in thing when I was young.”
Capturing her arm again, he continued his trek back down the corridor. Reaching the bedroom Abby had occupied before, he swept a hand toward the bed. “You shall sleep here.”
“And what about you? Going to pull your coffin up nex
t to me?”
He moved his hand over the bed, and the blankets rolled back. “Would that alarm you?”
The thought creeped her out actually. “You don’t seriously sleep in one, do you?”
The smile broadened. “No, I do not. I sleep in a bed just as you. In fact, if you are in need of evening companionship, I would be happy to join you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Could you be any more obvious?” Abby plopped down on the edge of the mattress. “Tell me about this curse. Who did it? Why was it done?”
All humor fled from his face. “No. That is not information you require.”
“I’m sorry. Did I not just ask the question? That means it’s information I require.” Her ire on the rise, she stood up again. “You know, I’m getting really sick of these chauvinistic traits of yours, and I’ve been in your company for less than twenty-four hours. Destiny, my ass. I couldn’t see myself spending another day with you much less an eternity. Close the door on your way out.”
Nathaniel sighed and swept a hand behind him. Flames flickered in the marble fireplace, adding a soft glow to the hard lines of his face. “There is much about me you do not understand, Abigail, but know this. You are safe here. No harm will come to you, and should you wish to leave in the morning, I will not stop you.”
As he started to walk away, she called him back. “Why not?”
He didn’t turn around. “Because I will not force anyone to endure the hell that is my life. Good-night.”
Abby sat on the bed with only the flicker of the flames for light. Her heart had begun to soften in just a few short hours, and that, to her, was very dangerous. What would happen if she stayed another day?
Chapter Three
“She will never love you.”
The cold chill of the witch’s voice raised the hairs on the back of Nathaniel’s neck. He didn’t need to turn around to know she was there. “You know nothing about her.”
“Ah, but I do. She’s a regular woman who wants to lead a normal life. Can you offer her that, Nathaniel? What can you give her beyond the cold walls of this castle?”
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