Weddings From Hell

by Maggie Shayne

  And from the darkened garden below, Rupert Villiers watched in astonishment.

  Chapter 6

  Payen did indeed return by dawn. Violet heard him on the stairs—and knew whatever noise he made was for her benefit.

  When he came to her door, he was silent and stealthy once more. Violet felt his presence rather than heard it, but she knew he was there, separated from her by nothing more than a slab of wood that wasn’t even locked. What good would a lock do against a being who could crush rock with his bare hands? But more to the point, why would she ever lock her door against the man she loved?

  The only thing that kept Payen from coming into her room was himself, and that took some of the shine off what pleasure his return gave her. She lay in her bed, still and listening. She wasn’t sure exactly when he walked away, but eventually she realized that he was no longer near. Perhaps she imagined the entire thing. Still, Violet didn’t close her eyes and attempt to sleep again until the first pale light of dawn crept through her bedroom window. She could rest now, knowing that Payen was her prisoner at least until sunset.

  When she woke a few hours later, it was with a renewed sense of hope. She wasn’t certain how one engaged in a battle of wills with a centuries-old being, but she was spoiling for the fight, regardless.

  His loyalty—outdated as it was—was admirable. Violet hadn’t any concerns that he would be just as loyal to her. His feelings for her weren’t the problem. The problem was in his head, in his thinking that he couldn’t love her, be with her, and still keep those ancient vows.

  Surely the people who gave him those vows never intended that Payen should not have happiness in his life? Surely they didn’t mean that he couldn’t turn his mate into a vampire if he so chose? If they had, then they were wrong.

  Her convictions and determination firmly in place, Violet rose and rang for her maid. Then, she washed, slipped into her undergarments, and stood still while her maid laced her into her corset. The fine boning nipped her waist in a flattering manner, but lifted her breasts far too prominently. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it.

  Payen seemed to like them. He had practically worshipped them the night before with his mouth and hands. Ah, the feel of his hot, wet tongue against the sensitive ache of her nipples…

  “Are you all right, miss?” Her maid questioned. “You look a little flushed. Are your stays too tight?”

  Mortified, Violet shook her head. “I’m fine, Anna. Thank you.” No more thinking of Payen and the pleasure he gave her. But a little shiver raced down her spine at the thought of being able to enjoy that pleasure forever.

  Immortality didn’t frighten her, although it must be terribly lonely for someone who spent their nights alone. She wouldn’t allow Payen to continue that way.

  A rose and cream striped morning gown came down over her head, interrupting her thoughts, and Violet slipped her arms into the snug sleeves. It was a new gown, very pretty and feminine. It was stylish, but without a lot of the frills and trimmings that were so popular these days. A woman her size didn’t want ruffles around her hips and derriere—a bustle was bad enough. Still, Violet had to concede that the colors were very flattering to her complexion and that the high neckline took the emphasis off her bust. She couldn’t change that she was tall and statuesque, but this dress—part of her wedding trousseau—made her feel pretty and almost delicate.

  Perhaps Payen might rise early enough to see her in it.

  It must be awful to be the only vampire amongst a house full of humans. Not only because of the obvious temptation, but it had to be terribly lonely. Ostracized from company because of the sun’s deadly light, forced to walk the night when most country folk were asleep in their beds.

  Payen needed someone to share the night with—someone who accepted him for what he was, and had no misconceptions about how different life at his side would be. Someone who understood what it was to be alone.

  Violet hadn’t been so young when her parents died that she didn’t remember them. She remembered them vividly and with great love and sorrow. Henry and Eliza had been very good to her, but they had never presumed to take the place of her parents—and they had their own children, both of whom were married now and about to make the earl and countess grandparents.

  The Rexleys had never made her feel unwelcome, just the opposite, but Violet was old enough to miss what she once had, and always feel as though she didn’t quite belong.

  Until Payen. She belonged with him—as surely as the moon belonged to the night. She just had to make him admit it. No, she had to make him accept it.

  It was with this thought in her head, this determination in her heart that she went downstairs to face the bright light of day and the scandal that her canceled wedding had become.

  The papers tended to sympathize with Rupert, despite most of the accounts having been written by women. They just couldn’t understand why Violet would jilt such a lovely man.

  Then again there was one writer who cheerfully announced that she’d leave her husband for a man who looked like Payen as well.

  “If Payen doesn’t marry me I’ll never be able to show my face in London again,” Violet surmised, not without some bitterness, as she lifted her cup of coffee.

  Eliza watched her over the rim of her own china cup. “Do you want to marry Payen?”

  “I’ve had no other ambition since I was sixteen years old.” She took a sip of hot, rich coffee. “He loves me, Eliza. He just won’t allow himself to be happy.”

  Her guardian—her friend—didn’t look convinced. Did she think Violet too young? Too foolish? She might be four and twenty years old, and perhaps her experience of the world was limited, but she knew her heart. And she knew Payen. In fact, she’d wager that she knew the vampire better than Henry himself, who had known Payen since he was a boy.

  Henry didn’t know the truth about Stephen Rexley’s death. That little reminder to herself took the sting out of Eliza’s dubious expression and gave Violet the confidence to keep her head high at the other end of the breakfast table.

  After breakfast, she went to see how many gifts were left to return, and busied herself there. When Eliza came in an hour later and told her that Rupert had come to call, Violet was surprised, to say the least.

  “Do you want me to see to him?” Eliza asked, placing a firm but gentle hand upon her arm.

  Violet patted those little fingers. Eliza might not be her true mother, but she had much of a mother’s protectiveness—a fact Violet appreciated and loved her for. “No. I’ll do it. I owe the poor man that much at least.” She glanced around at the piles of gifts that had yet to be returned. “But perhaps in the parlor, where it won’t be a constant reminder of my betrayal.”

  “He’s already there.” Eliza’s grip tightened. “It would have been worse to marry him and betray yourself.”

  A truth Violet knew in her heart, but it made her happy to hear it said aloud all the same. She used that happiness to give her strength when, a few moments later, she entered the parlor where her former fiancé waited.

  She straightened her shoulders at the sight of him. “Good morning, Rupert.”

  He looked surprisingly well for a man who had been jilted by his bride-to-be. “Violet. You look lovely.”

  “Thank you.” She frowned. “To what do I owe the…pleasure of this visit?” Poor choice of words, but she was working with a befuddled brain at the moment.

  Rupert glanced behind her at the closed door. “Is Mr. Carr here?”

  “He’s indisposed at the moment.” And thankfully so, as the sunlight pouring into the room would kill him. “You needn’t be afraid of him, Rupert.” The moment she said the words Violet realized the light in Rupert’s eyes wasn’t fear at all. It was excitement—a glitter that formed a lump of unease in her stomach.

  “I would like to speak to him,” he said suddenly, turning on her with those spooky bright eyes. “I understand Mr. Carr’s misgivings about my affiliation with the Silver
Palm, but we’d like to assure him that the Order of today is nothing like the one he often fought.”

  “We?” The unease grew…

  “Yes, the Order.”…and became a full blown brick of fear. “You told the order about Payen.”

  “Of course.” He talked like it had been the most natural progression. How deep was he into the Order? Had he pretended his ignorance the night Payen arrived? Or had someone decided he deserved to know more once they heard of Payen’s arrival? And dear God, what did modern men know about a seven-century-old vampire?

  “Why would you tell them about Mr. Carr, Rupert?”

  He gave her a sly look. “You know what he is, Violet, don’t play coy with me. I saw him leave your room this morning. Very impressive. Shocked me at first, but afterward I realized what a marvel he is.”

  How had Payen left her room? By the balcony. Oh God. Violet pressed a hand to her churning stomach. He had flown, and Rupert had seen him.

  “Were you spying on me?” It hardly mattered, but it was something to channel her anger into rather than the fear that Payen was in danger.

  “Of course.” His smile faded a little. “Didn’t take you long to let the vampire into your bed did it?”

  Oh no. Now was not the time for weakness. She had to think of Payen. She forced an expression of confusion. “The what?”

  He came toward her, that patient smile on his lips once more. It was all she could do to flinch backward, away from his touch. “I don’t blame you. I imagine he can be very seductive. Masterful even.”

  Now, that was just unsettling. “He’s none of your business. This is between you and I, Rupert.”

  “Yes. And I think it would be of benefit to all of us if we remained friends.”

  I think you should be committed to Bedlam. “Regardless of my infidelity?”

  Light fingers stroked her arms. “I can forgive your indiscretion.”

  “Why would you want to?” Then it hit her. “You want to get closer to Payen. Why?”

  He didn’t bother to pretend. “My fellows in the Order would love to talk to him, study him. He’s a walking encyclopedia of historical knowledge, Violet. Imagine what we could learn.”

  Academic curiosity did not put such a predatory gleam in the eyes of a man who used to shudder at anything scholarly, Violet knew that much. She also knew better than to underestimate a member of the Order of the Silver Palm. Regardless of her own opinion of Rupert, she knew Payen’s history with the sect, and she knew how much he hated them. They had to hate him almost as much. Rupert’s interest was predatory and she would protect her lover at any cost.

  “You and I don’t have to be friends for you to talk to Payen, Rupert.”

  “No, but I think it would help him to trust me. And it would quiet all those ugly rumors about you, my dear.” His fingers tightened slightly on her arms. “I adore you, Vi. I hate to see you injured in anyway.”

  He had certainly changed his tune since the other night when he accused her of practically being a slut. There was a glimmer of truth in his eyes—enough to make Violet feel like dirt. And just enough lie to make her spine tingle with fear. Was he threatening her, or was it just her wild imagination?

  “I’m sorry, Rupert. Truly I am, but I think you should go now.”

  Not one to give up easily, he gave her arms another squeeze before releasing her. “Trust me, Violet. Think of Lord and Lady Wolfram. I want what is best for you.”

  And for himself, she suspected. He had been badly hurt the night their wedding plans were destroyed, and she knew him well enough to know that he hadn’t reconciled with it at all. He hadn’t forgiven her. He never would. He was driven by what he felt she could do for him, rather than what he felt for her. Just as she had been when she agreed to marry him. She had given up hope for Payen even though she dreamed of him coming for her.

  What Rupert was doing now wasn’t for her, and perhaps it wasn’t even truly for himself, but it was for the Order of the Silver Palm. They wanted Payen.

  Oh God.

  “I’ll think about it.” It was a lie, but it seemed the easiest way to get rid of him.

  Rupert smiled, obviously believing her. “Good.” He leaned in for a kiss. She turned her head, giving him her cheek.

  “We’ll talk later,” he said as he moved toward the door.

  “Of course,” But as she saw him out, Violet’s head was filled with one thought alone.

  Getting Payen the hell out of England.

  Payen was in the bath, shoulder deep in hot, sandalwood-scented water when Violet slipped into his room. The sun had barely slipped over the horizon on its long, late summer descent when he caught the subtle scent of her perfume, heard the not-so-subtle pounding of her heart.

  “Checking to make sure I’m still here?” He called out with a touch more annoyance than he meant. “Did you think I would run away?”

  She barged into the bath with a rustle of skirts and shallow breath. It was the fear radiating off of her that had him sitting up, sloshing water over the sides of the tub. “What is it?”

  “You have to leave.” This would have been amusing after all her talk of chasing him if he ran were it not for the insistence in her voice, the wide appeal in her eyes. She fell to her knees beside the bath, heedless of the water that would soak her pretty gown.

  He caught one of her cold hands in his. “Easy, pet.”

  She stared at him, hazel eyes huge and round. “Rupert. He knows what you are. He says he wants to be friends now. Payen, I think you’re in danger.”

  “From Rupert Villiers? Not likely.” The words were more for her peace of mind than his own. Rupert Villiers might not be a threat on his own, but in the company of several other men skilled in combat who knew a vampire’s weaknesses…

  Her other hand clutched at his shoulder, her fingers digging into the muscle beneath his wet flesh. “You have to leave. Tonight.”

  She was afraid for him. More than that, she was terrified. When had anyone been concerned with his well being? Decades at the very least. Most people assumed he was indestructible, or at the very least nigh on impossible to kill. Not his Violet. Perhaps he should be insulted that she thought so little of his abilities, but he wasn’t that stupid. With an odd clarity he knew that her concern sprang from her feelings for him, and not any doubt as to his physical prowess.

  The realization was as humbling as it was arousing, and he rose from the tub with a heart full of an emotion he couldn’t name, and a cock so hard he could use it as a battering ram.

  Violet noticed it, of course. How could she not? She stood as well, her hand still in his.

  “I don’t think you’re taking my concerns seriously at all,” she informed him with a tight jaw, but her gaze slipped back to his erection with an interest that had the damn thing twitching in anticipation.

  “On the contrary,” Payen replied, stepping out of the tub and pulling her tight against him. “I take everything about you seriously. You’re like a sword hanging over my head.”

  She glared at him. “What a lovely compliment.”

  He wrapped his fingers around the thick knot of hair coiled on the back of her head, holding her so she couldn’t turn away. “I can’t get away from you, and I know it’s just a matter of time before you cleave my heart.” As far as compliments went, he knew it wasn’t a pretty one, but Violet understood. She always understood, damn her.

  Warmth shone in her face, but there was sadness in her eyes. “You could just let me have it, you know. Then I wouldn’t have to cut it out of you.”

  He smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  She didn’t return the smile. “I don’t have time to wear you down.”

  He swallowed against a strange lump that was forming in his throat. “I thought you were going to chase me.”

  “Until I died. I’m going to die someday, Payen. Do you really want to live with that regret?”

  He had forced himself not to think about it, but here it was, tossed in
his face like last night’s wash water.

  Violet and death was not something he thought about if he could help it. She was so young, how could he think of her ending? And yet, he knew it would come. He had seen it so much in the past.

  No more Violet. No more hazel eyes and sweet lips. No more driving him insane with questions and demands. No more sword above his head.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Soft fingers brushed his cheek. Violet’s fingers came away damp. “I’ll take that as a no,” she whispered.

  Then she was up on her toes and her lips claimed his with an urgency that eased the ache in his chest and directed it south. He was hard with wanting her, and if she let him, he was going to have her.

  But when he was on his back on his bed, Violet straddling him with her skirts billowing around them, Payen realized that it was she who was going to have him. He guided himself between her spread thighs, to the slit in her thin drawers where the fabric was damp with her juices. Her body accepted him readily, slick and hot as she took him inside, tightly sliding down the entire length of him, so that her buttocks rested on the top of his thighs.

  It was quick and urgent, with her grinding herself against him as he clung to her hips beneath the mountain of petticoats and gown. All he could do was arch his hips and groan, beg her to take him all the way, to let him come inside her as she came for him.

  And when it happened, it was sharp and intense, almost violent as they climaxed together, voices mingling as they cried out in joy.

  Afterward, with Violet collapsed on top of him, Payen realized that he was lost. He would have to find some kind of compromise within himself, between the vows he took and his feelings for this woman, because there was no way he could let her go again.

  She stroked his jaw with her fingers, her chest pressed against his. He could feel the beating of her heart, even through the layers she wore. It tripped in time with his own.