Miss Austen's Vampire

by Monica Knightley

  When he turned his eyes back to Jane, he smiled to see her biting her lip—the lip he had kissed not an hour ago. Without raising her eyes, she took a sip of her tea. Now there was no mistaking it. Her hand was certainly shaking as it raised the china cup to her lips.

  Truly insufferable! If she had not thought him so insufferable earlier in the conversation, she certainly did now. What in heaven’s name was that about spending the night? Was the man so vain and proud to think she would give him her virtue? After knowing him less than a day? Not that the time was of consequence. The issue was his thinking he could have his way with her by simply wishing it so.

  Insufferable!

  Or did the man assume that she was no longer a virgin? Perhaps he had concluded she had previous carnal experience. But how could he possibly come to such a conclusion? Her writing? Did her way of writing the truth about men and women and falling in love make people assume she knew of what she wrote? The thought horrified her. She would need to find a way to let Mr. Augustine know, in no uncertain terms, that she was not the kind of woman who let men do such things.

  Jane risked a quick glance at Gabriel. His eyes were on her, watching her from under the long, thick, dark lashes. He didn’t avert his eyes when caught, and though she knew propriety demanded she look away, she found she could not. She allowed herself a moment to take in all of his extraordinary features: the dark wavy hair, a lock of which always wanted to fall to his forehead, the long straight nose, square chin, prominent high cheekbones, the shadow of the beard he did not allow to grow, the fine hands with long, tapered fingers, legs that never ended. If she ever were to give away her virtue, a man such as Mr. Augustine would make the experience most pleasurable, she mused. But then, there were no other Mr. Augustines in the world. At least, not of flesh and blood, her Mr. Darcy being the only other man who could compare to Mr. Augustine that she could bring to mind.

  Narrowing her eyes at him, and turning up one corner of her mouth in a rueful half-smile, she shook her head. She hoped the message was clear. Or was her message going to be thought flirtatious? She was at a loss, as this was a game at which she had little experience.

  Tearing her eyes from his, Jane turned to Agatha and asked an unimportant question about the arrangement of the landscaping and gardens. She didn’t listen to anything Agatha said in answer, but feigned interest with nods and smiles. No, her thoughts were all of Gabriel.

  That smirk. That naughty little half-smile. Was Miss Austen playing this game with him? Was it too much to hope that this most intriguing and perplexing lady wanted to be his lover? Even if she did not share this hope of his, the game was entertaining and a most pleasant distraction.

  Leaning toward her, Gabriel said, conspiratorially, “While I would hate to take you from this most fascinating discussion of knot gardens, Miss Austen, I was curious if you ride. It is just that I was thinking about your fondness for the outdoors, and this estate being so large I thought you might enjoy going for a ride with me, and I can show you much more of the fine grounds of Dartfourd than can be seen on foot.”

  Miss Austen answered Gabriel with a friendly glare. Then smiling politely, she said, “That is a very considerate offer, Mr. Augustine. You do seem quite intent on my spending more time out of doors. I think for today I have had my fill of fresh air, but perhaps tomorrow. May I let you know in the morning?”

  With a theatrical frown, he said, “Ah, Miss Austen, you dare deprive me of such an enjoyable afternoon?” Jane tilted her head and shrugged. “Well, if I am to be deprived so, I do hope that tomorrow will find you in a mood to ride.” Gabriel let his eyes run up and down her figure, which was nicely displayed in the pale blue dress, and he again enjoyed the low cut of the neckline, and allowed himself another tantalizing peek at the swell of her breasts. He took a moment to imagine what those breasts looked like unclothed.

  “Mr. Augustine, do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you.” This time there was no mistaking the smirk that accompanied this remark.

  Gabriel laughed louder than was thought to be appropriate for such a quiet gathering, and pointed at Miss Austen, wagging his finger. Agatha appeared once again to be mortified by her brother’s actions.

  “You, my dear Miss Austen, are quoting yourself! That was from your Pride and Prejudice.”

  Jane stared at Gabriel, her mouth open in astonishment.

  He gave her a rueful smile and raised his brows.

  Finding her voice, Jane said, “Did you, Mr. Augustine, commit to memory my entire book?”

  Still smiling at her, he said, “I do believe I told you yesterday how very much I enjoyed and admired your book. That I have committed to memory several of my favorite lines should not be a surprise to you.”

  “I must confess I am stunned.”

  “Are you stunned enough to promise me that ride tomorrow?”

  Jane looked down and muttered, “Considering what an admirer of my work you are I dare not deny you.” She slowly raised her eyes to his and held his gaze.

  This time Gabriel was certain the double meaning was intentional.

  Chapter 6

  Safely ensconced in her bedchamber later that night, Jane collapsed on the bed. The dinner, while less glamorous than the previous night, was still more elegant than she was accustomed to, and the banter at the table was just as lively and vaguely disconcerting as the afternoon visit had been. Her only relief during the evening had been that she was not seated next to Gabriel. In fact, she was almost as far from him as she could be at the table of nine guests. Yet somehow he had managed to orchestrate the table conversation in such a way that much of it had been centered around the two of them. Each time she attempted to start a more private conversation with her seat partner, Gabriel would interrupt it, making his comments in such a way that everyone had to direct their attention to him. Throughout the dinner Jane saw expressions on Lady Dartfourd’s face that signaled her irritation with her brother’s atrocious manners.

  Laying on the bed, watching the play of the candlelight on the ceiling above her, Jane let out a long, slow breath. Gabriel Augustine. Insufferable man. Charming man.

  She recalled his smile, directed at her and no one else at the table. Eyes half-closed, he admired her as a lover might. Jane shivered at the memory. She felt something tighten in her abdomen as she brought to mind his eyes on her. Closing her eyes, she remembered the morning in the copse, and gently ran a finger over her lips.

  Sitting up abruptly, Jane said, “Jane Austen, you silly woman. Mr. Gabriel Augustine is playing with you as a fisherman might play with a trout on the line. He has no interest in an old spinster. Stop this foolishness now.”

  She blew out her breath, got up, and started to undress for bed. The sooner she was asleep and safe from thoughts of Gabriel Augustine, the better.

  While Jane was in her room considering her evening, Gabriel was determining how best to quench his thirst. He walked around the gardens near the house, pondering his options. While last night’s kitchen maid had not yet been found, he thought it best not to go back to that well quite so soon. He also decided against any of the house servants. Finding someone in the village was a possibility, though doing so carried with it some risk. He could ride over to his own house and drink from one of his servants. Of course Francis would be there which could complicate that particular option.

  Without making a firm decision he mounted Greystone and set off in the direction of Herrifield Court. Earlier he had come to one important decision in regards to his meal. He would not let it include anything sexual. First, to enjoy satisfying that appetite required taking more risks of discovery. Second, it felt wrong after spending a day with the lovely Miss Austen. Being around such purity all day made his carnal lusts seem depraved. No, he would limit himself to the most demanding appetite.

  When he found himself outside his house he looked up at the ancient building and sighed. Home. It had been months since his last visit. Since before his change.
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  The risk of being there was not a wise one to take, but now that he was there Gabriel knew he would have to find sustenance within the estate. His hunger was guiding all his actions now, leaving him with no choices. He dismounted Greystone, and headed to the still lit kitchen. Whoever was so unfortunate to still be working, would be his unwilling donor. Hopefully it was someone who was employed by him prior to his change and who would readily recognize him, making the inevitable that much simpler.

  Yes, to be recognized would make the matter simple.

  But, of course, it would require that the unwilling donor not be left to share her knowledge afterward.

  Following the hasty burial in the woods, Gabriel forced Greystone to gallop the full distance back to Dartfourd. Were his absence to be noticed he would have a difficult time making excuses. Energized by his meal, he leapt off the stallion’s back, hurriedly placed him in a stall, and ran back to the house, letting himself in through a servants’ entrance. He took the stairs three at a time, and entered his room quietly. When he had come in he’d heard some of the guests in the drawing room, but knew that now was not a time for him to be around others.

  The blood, a full body’s worth, not only acted to energize him but also awakened his other appetite.

  Not just awakened. Made every part of him scream with need.

  Hours earlier, during dinner, Gabriel had been able to enjoy the charms of Miss Austen as any human man would have. Yes, he admired her figure, and the way she moved when walking across the room, but mostly he was attracted to her wit and intelligence. He had delighted in the repartee the two of them had engaged in.

  But now, under the influence of the feeding, his thoughts of Miss Jane Austen were much more base, carnal. He imagined her naked body moving under his, his chest pressed against her breasts, her legs wrapped around his back. He could hear the sounds she would make as he gave her as much pleasure as he took for himself. More depraved sexual acts crossed his mind as well; acts women like Miss Austen would never have heard of.

  Gabriel’s breathing became faster and shallower as each vision led to another more graphic than the last. He stood in the center of his room, afraid to move for fear he would leave the room and go find her bedchamber. Fully aroused, his erection pressed against breeches that now felt much too confining. He closed his eyes, and let the visions wash over him. Some of the acts were ones he had only heard of—had never dared partake of himself, but now he was imagining Miss Austen engaged in these most degenerate of acts.

  Forcing his eyes open, Gabriel eyed the sumptuous bed, and slowly made his way to the feather-soft mattress. He fell to his knees, leaned on the bed, and covered his face with his hands. Fearful that any other actions could lead him to despoil Miss Austen, he prayed to a God long absent from his life, imploring him to come to his aid.

  Not for himself, but for the pure, good Miss Austen.

  Jane lay in the bed, intensely aware of the soft fabric of her nightgown as it caressed her body. She had been turning and tossing trying to find a position that would lead to sleep, but to no avail. Each time she lay still, eyes closed, she saw Gabriel Augustine. His laughing, teasing eyes, his tousled hair, his lips as they moved to her to kiss her. Then she felt the lips, the tongue, and remembered the fire she felt during the kiss.

  She flopped over onto her stomach with a grunt. This would not do, she thought. She started to whisper the books of the Bible, and when she made it to Revelations she started over. Three times she recited the books, before turning to the familiar prayers in the Book of Common Prayer. She fervently prayed every prayer she could remember. They began to lose meaning upon the second time through, but the familiar cadence began to work its magic and she felt her body begin to relax.

  She sighed.

  And saw the image of Gabriel on horseback, his long legs straddling the beast, his broad shoulders straining the coat, his strong hands holding the reins.

  Genesis, Exodus . . .

  Prayer failing him, Gabriel got up and paced the room. Somewhere in this house, he knew Miss Austen was asleep in a bed, her head resting upon goose-down pillows, a thin nightgown covering her soft, warm body, gentle breaths escaping from between puckered lips. His pacing became more rapid, and with each trip around the room he removed one garment, with the thought of soon trying for the oblivion of sleep. By the time he was wearing only his shirt, he felt a degree more relaxed, and considered falling into the bed. He looked down at the hem of the shirt, falling to just above his knees, and laughed at the state in which he still found himself. Obviously the erection was going nowhere, but he could not allow it to rule his actions.

  Gabriel glanced at the bed, then over at the door. He knew he should try to sleep, though he only slept a couple of hours a night now. But sleep would be the safest alternative at this point. Again he laughed. In his state of blood satiety, sleep would not happen.

  His eyes went to the door, and he again imagined opening it, walking down the hall, and finding the delectable Miss Austen in her bed.

  Thirty minutes later, Gabriel was pleased with himself as he lay in his own bed. Still fully alert with little hope for sleep, he forced himself to stay where he was. He would make sure Miss Austen remained safe from the monster tonight. His thoughts turned to tomorrow’s ride. At least he had that time with her to look forward to.

  Smiling, with the pleasant images in his mind, he heard something outside his door and sat up, alerted. By the light of the one candle still burning in the room he could just make out the doorknob and watched as it slowly turned. The door opened a crack, then stopped. Staying where he was he waited for further movement, and several seconds later the door opened a few more inches. A face appeared in the opening, peeking into the room. All Gabriel could ascertain in the brief second it was there was that it was a woman with long dark hair cascading over the top of what appeared to be a nightgown.

  More than a little intrigued, he wanted to leap up and run to the door and see who was daring to open the door to his bedchamber, but instead he remained motionless, waiting. A full minute went by before the figure opened the door fully, stepped inside, and quickly shut the door behind her.

  In the flickering candlelight, he took in the vision that surely had to be a hallucination, for it could not possibly be reality. The woman was wearing her thin, white nightgown opened at the throat, waving brown hair falling over her shoulders and covering her breasts, feet bare. Even from where he sat Gabriel could see she was shivering.

  “Miss Austen.”

  A small sound was all the affirmation he would get.

  The desire to run to her, throw her on the bed, and make love to her was overwhelming, and it took reserves of determination he did not know he possessed to stay where he was.

  Jane was breathing deeply, breasts rising with each inhalation. Still she stood by the door, unmoving and silent, eyes fixed on Gabriel’s.

  One bare foot took a step away from the door, toward the bed, but then she stopped again. Under her breath, she muttered, “Oh dear.”

  Then she ran across the floorboards, crawled up onto the high bed, and pressed herself against him. His arms went around her and he held her tight.

  “Oh yes,” she cried.

  “Miss Austen?” Gabriel whispered into her ear.

  Her answer was a kiss, a hungry kiss, a kiss that had no pure intentions in it.

  He broke it off momentarily, to allow himself to look into her face. Her eyes remained closed, and her breaths were rapid and shallow, lips parted awaiting his return. Gabriel took her face gently in his hands.

  “Miss Austen . . . Jane. Please look at me.”

  Her eyes slowly opened partway. Unfocused, they sought out his eyes. Gabriel moved his hands from her face to her shoulders, one of which was bare, the neckline of the gown having slipped off her shoulder.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  She nodded quickly and sighed.

  “But, you have never been with a man, hav
e you, Jane?”

  Jane’s eyes opened fully now, as she slowly shook her head.

  “You deserve a man who will be gentle with you for your first time, and I cannot promise that. I’m afraid I would not be capable of being as gentle as you will require.”

  Panic showed on her face. Her eyes were open wide, her mouth slightly open.

  “It is all right. I will not hurt you, if you hurry back to your room. We shall pretend this visit never happened.” Even as he spoke, he wondered at his ability to say the words.

  “No!”

  Her mouth was back on his, her tongue exploring his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

  Gabriel sighed. The poor woman was making a dangerous mistake. And even as he tried one last time to make himself stop, he knew he wouldn’t be stopping.

  He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, then took the hem of Jane’s gown and lifted it up over her thighs, hips, abdomen, breasts, and off over her head. Her virginal body was soft and curvy and smooth. Pink nipples stood out from round, full breasts, and he bent over to kiss each of them. This little touch elicited a quick intake of breath followed by a small squeal from Jane.

  Gabriel pressed Jane down onto the bed and leaned over her. This lovely woman needed to be made love to properly, and he wanted to give her every pleasure he could, but he feared himself incapable. The monster in him was taking the upper hand and once that demon ruled him he wouldn’t be able to control his desires and needs.

  He would fight it. He had no choice.

  Starting with a gentle kiss on her mouth, he moved his lips to her neck then breasts. He lifted each arm to kiss her wrists and the soft, tender inside of her elbows, where he paused to inhale her scent, as he pressed his lips to the sweet skin. His tongue traced down the center of her abdomen, from breasts to pubic bone. Each touch made Jane squirm and make little noises. He looked up at her after circling her navel with his tongue, and saw her lick her lips. The sight elicited a deep groan from Gabriel.