Byron nudged Jacques. “Antonietta has a sound room. I bet we could persuade Josef to cut an entire rap CD for Mikhail. I would not mind a copy for myself, just to put on every once in a while to watch Antonietta’s face when she hears his lyrics.”
“A brilliant idea,” Jacques agreed. “Just the thing for that brother of mine.”
“Byron! Jacques!” Eleanor was horrified. “Do not dare encourage Josef.”
Byron wrapped his arm around her. “I think encouraging art is a wonderful trait.”
“You will answer to me if you do such a thing,” Vlad said in his severest voice.
Byron and Jacques exchanged a quick grin. Shea hid a knowing smile, shaking her head at their antics, pleased they were falling back into their old camaraderie.
A single knock sounded on the door, and Franco stuck his head in the room. “It’s time, Byron.”
Byron took a deep breath. “Has anyone noticed it’s hard to breathe in here?”
Eleanor kissed him. “Do not disgrace us by being a baby about this. I will see you in the chapel.”
“No running away now,” Shea cautioned. “Your lifemate looks unbelievable.” She followed Eleanor out.
Byron looked at Jacques. “There is something about standing up in front of a crowd. Why do women like these things?”
“To torment us,” Jacques said.
“You have that right.” Vlad opened the door and waved his brother-in-law through.
The night was crystal clear, the calm sea gleaming like glass. Night flowers bloomed along the pathway, bringing bright colors to light the way. The chapel sat in the midst of a small grove of trees. Lit from within, Byron could see the stained glass windows in all of their vivid beauty. The breeze touched his face, cooled his skin, carried with it the smell and taste of the sea. He inhaled deeply, appreciating that Antonietta had chosen a setting close to nature, close to his world. The three men wound their way through the gardens to the entrance that would lead them directly to the altar.
Byron walked in through the side door, Jacques and Vlad at his side. Hundreds of candles set the chapel softly aglow.
They were all there. Her family. His family. The people he had grown to care about. Franco with Vincente and Margurite. Eleanor sat beside the two children, whispering something in Margurite’s ear. Diego sat with his young children, staring enraptured at Tasha, who was already at the altar with Marita, waiting for the bride. Paul and Justine held hands. Byron was especially pleased to see that Shea was sitting very close to Josef, and whatever she was saying to him wiped the wicked, teasing grin from his face. Byron’s heart contracted at the sight of them all sitting together with no separation between them.
There was music, but Byron could only hear the wild thunder of his heart. He stood, his hands folded in front of him. Waiting. There was a soft rustle at the entrance to the chapel. A second heart found the perfect rhythm of his. He turned as their guests rose to their feet.
Antonietta stood at the back of the church, one gloved hand tucked into the crook of Don Giovanni’s arm. She wore exquisite Italian lace, a dress that clung to her enticing curves and fell in graceful folds to her ankles. Her abundance of hair was swept up in some intricate knot with curling tendrils everywhere. She looked straight at him and smiled.
His heart stuttered. His breath caught and was trapped in his lungs. For one moment he was certain he was locked in a dream. She couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be his. Music filled the chapel. Byron locked his gaze with hers, willing her to come to him. Time stopped for him. The world forgot to turn. He felt Jacques’s restraining hand and realized he had started to move toward her. And then Antonietta started up the aisle toward him. His pounding heart returned to its natural rhythm. The air moved through his lungs.
Jacques. Do you have the ring? Byron spent hours in secret, fashioning the perfect ring of rubies and diamonds, using an ancient threading technique. The setting was unique, made just for Antonietta and her sensitive fingertips. Feeling was more important to her than vision, and he had formed a ring of texture in hopes of pleasing her.
Jacques patted his pockets, looked alarmed, than laughed softly. Of course I have the ring, you dolt. Shea would have my head if I messed up.
I’m listening. Antonietta reminded, her smile widening.
So am I, Shea added.
Byron stepped forward to meet his bride. Don Giovanni kissed his granddaughter and placed her hand in Byron’s. “I give her into your keeping.”
“And she will always be safe,” Byron promised solemnly.
Byron turned back to the altar and, together with Antonietta, faced the priest, his heart swelling with joy. He had found his life mate, a woman of courage and compassion who would spend eternity at his side.
The marriage ceremony was solemn, the priest’s words eloquent. Byron felt the words in his heart and in his soul. He knew it was right that they had married in the way of her people. They were blending two worlds together, and each mattered equally. He spoke his vows in a clear voice, meaning every word. Antonietta’s voice was low and played over his skin like a caress.
“I love you, Byron Justicano. I will always love you,” Antonietta whispered softly as he placed his ring on her finger.
The priest pronounced them man and wife.
Byron bent his head to hers as she lifted her face. Her expression of love was so passionate, his heart moved in his chest. He kissed her with exquisite tenderness. I have always loved you, Antonietta.
And I, you.
“I give you Signor and Signora Justicano.”
Byron and Antonietta turned and faced their families together, hand in hand. The roar of happiness and joy spilled out of the chapel to reach up to the heavens and down to the sea.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dark Secret
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2005 by Christine Feehan
This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.
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ISBN: 1-101-14672-9
A JOVE BOOK®
Jove Books first published by The Jove Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
JOVE and the “J” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.
Electronic edition: June, 2005
For my sister, Bobbie King, and for Cassandra and Donna Kennedy-Hutton.
Because no vampire has ever met an honest-to-God cowgirl before.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Cheryl Wilson and Manda Clarke as always, I would never have managed without you. And to Maria Atkinson for her help with the Portuguese language.
For My Readers
Be sure to go to www.christinefeehan.com to sign up for my PRIVATE book announcement list and receive a FREE EXCLUSIVE animated screensaver. Please feel free to email me at [email protected]. I would love to hear from you.
Contents
Acknowledgments
For My Readers
Prologue
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10
11
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Epilogue
Prologue
“Come on, Colby,” Sheriff Ben Lassiter yelled, feeling like a fool running alongside the tractor. “You have to be reasonable. Get off that damn thing and listen to me for once in your life. You’re being stubborn!”
The ancient tractor bounced along in the gathering dusk, shooting up clouds of powdery dirt to spray over Ben’s immaculate sheriff’s uniform. Colby waited until he was totally out of breath and at a complete disadvantage before she stopped the tractor and sat staring moodily out over the field. Very slowly she pulled off her leather work gloves. “I’m getting tired of these visits, Ben. Just whose side are you on, anyway? You know me. You knew my father. The Chevez family don’t belong here and they certainly don’t have the right to try to force me to turn over my brother and sister to them.”
Ben swiped at the dirt covering him, gritting his teeth against his frustration. He took several deep breaths before he answered her. “I didn’t say it was right, Colby, but the Chevez family have the De La Cruz brothers on their side, which means a lot of money and power. You can’t just ignore them. They aren’t going to go away. You have to talk to them or they’re going to take you to court. People like the De La Cruz brothers don’t lose in court.” He raised his hands to grasp her small waist before she could jump off the tractor by herself. Resisting the urge to shake some sense into her, he lifted her down easily, retaining possession for a moment. “You have to do this, Colby. I mean it, honey, I can’t protect you from these people. Don’t put it off any longer.”
Colby pushed away from him, a small gesture of impatience, swinging her head so her disheveled hair spilled out from under her hat, hiding the sudden sheen of tears swimming in her eyes. Ben quickly looked away, pretending not to notice. A man would have to kill for her if she cried, and anyone witnessing her tears would be very likely to take the brunt of her anger.
“Fine.” Colby began moving across the field at a fast pace. “I presume you have the entire lot of them camped on my porch?”
“I knew Ginny and Paul were gone tonight.” Ben had ensured his sister-in-law invited Colby’s sister and brother over for homemade ice cream.
“Like that was hard to see through.” Colby tossed the words sarcastically over her shoulder at him. She had known Ben since kindergarten. She was certain he persisted in thinking of her as a wild, untamed little girl, not quite bright, when she was perfectly capable of running a ranch all by her little lonesome and had been doing so for some time. She wanted to box his thick skull.
“Colby, don’t go in there like a powder keg. These people aren’t the type to be pushed around.” Ben easily kept pace with her.
“Pushed around?” She stopped so abruptly that he had to rock back on his heels to keep from running her over. “They’re trying to push me around. How dare they come here acting so arrogant I want to sic the dog on them! Men!” She glared at him. “And another thing, Ben. Instead of kissing up to Mr. Moneybags and his entourage, you might consider what is going on out here. All my equipment keeps disappearing and some little gremlin is messing with the machinery. That’s your job, isn’t it?—not escorting the rich and infamous around.” She began moving again, her small feminine body radiating fury.
“Colby, you and I both know it’s a bunch of kids playing pranks. Probably friends of Paul,” Ben said, trying to soothe her.
“Pranks? I don’t think stealing is a prank. And what about my missing person’s report? Have you even tried to find Pete for me?”
Ben raked a hand through his hair in sheer desperation. “Pete Jessup is probably off on a binge. For all you know that old man stole your things to pay for his alcohol.”
Colby stopped again, and this time Ben did run into her and had to catch her shoulders to keep from knocking her flat. She slapped his hands away, a fine outrage smoldering in her. “Pete Jessup quit drinking when my father died, you turncoat! He’s been invaluable around here.”
“Colby,” Ben said, his voice persuasive and gentle, “the truth is you took in that homeless old coot out of the goodness of your heart. I doubt if he did more than eat your food every day. He’s a broken-down cowboy, a drifter. He’s just taken off somewhere. He’ll turn up eventually.”
“You would say that,” she sniffed, truly aggravated with him. “It’s just like you to let the disappearance of an old man and sneak thieves go by the wayside so you can mix with some rich idiots who are here to try to steal my brother and sister.”
“Colby, come on, they proved they’re relatives and they claim they have the children’s best interests at heart. The least you can do is listen to them.”
“You probably agree with them, don’t you? Paul and Ginny are not better off with that group. You don’t know anything about it, or them. Paul would end up just like them, so arrogant no one could stand him, and poor little Ginny would grow up thinking she was a second-class citizen because she’s female. They can all go straight to hell for all I care!”
Although it was early evening and still relatively light, the sky suddenly darkened as ominous black clouds boiled up out of nowhere. A cold wind arrived on the wings of the dark mass, tugging sharply at Colby’s clothes. A shiver of apprehension blew straight down her spine. For a moment something touched her mind. She felt it, felt the struggle for entrance.
“What is it?”
Colby could see Ben was clearly uneasy as he turned in a slow circle to scan the surrounding area. He had his hand on his gun, unsure what was stalking them or where the threat was coming from, but he obviously felt it as well.
Colby stayed very quiet, not moving a muscle, like a small fawn caught in a hunter’s sights. She immediately sensed she was in mortal danger. It wasn’t hostile toward Ben, but she could feel the malevolence directed at her. Whatever it was struck directly at her mind, seeking entrance. She took a deep slow breath and let it out, forcing her mind to stay blank, thinking of a wall—high, impregnable—a fortress nothing could enter. She focused completely on the wall, keeping it strong, impenetrable.
The thing seemed to withdraw for a moment, puzzled perhaps by her strength, but then it struck again, a hard spearlike thrust that seemed to pierce her skull and drive right for her brain. Colby uttered a soft cry of pain and dropped to one knee, holding her head even while she forced herself to breathe evenly and calmly. Her mind was strong, invincible, with a wall so thick and high no one would ever break it down. Whatever malevolent thing was after her would not be allowed to breach her defenses.
She became aware, after a few minutes, of Ben’s large hand on her shoulder. He was bending over her solicitously. “Colby, what is it?”
Cautiously she lifted her head. The presence was gone. “My head, Ben. I have the headache from hell.” She did, too; it wasn’t a lie. She’d never experienced anything quite like the attack. She actually felt sick to her stomach, and she wasn’t certain she could walk. Whatever it had been was strong and terrifying.
Ben took her elbow and helped her to her feet. She was trembling—he could feel the continuous shivering beneath his hand—so he held on to her. Colby didn’t pull away from him like she normally would have and that worried him. “You want me to call an ambulance?”
Her emerald green eyes laughed at him even as they mirrored her pain. “Are you crazy? I have a headache, Ben. The mere thought of contact with the Chevez family gives me major headaches.”
“Your brother and sister are both members of the Chevez family, Colby. You would have been too if the adoption had gone through.”
Colby ducked her head, his words hitting her dead center in her heart. Armando Chevez had never adopted her. He had confessed his reasons on his deathbed, hanging his head in shame, tears swimming in his eyes while she held his hand. He had wanted his grandfather to relent, to accept him back into the family. Due to t
he circumstances of Colby’s birth, Armando had known if he adopted her, his grandfather in Brazil would never allow him to come back to the family. It had been too late, then, to push the paperwork through. Armando Chevez was ashamed that he had betrayed her unconditional love for him for a family who had never answered a dying man’s letter. Colby had remained loyal and loving, nursing him, reading to him, comforting him right up until the day he died. And she still remained loyal to him. It didn’t matter that he had died before the adoption—Armando Chevez wasn’t her biological father, but he was her father all the same. In her heart, where it counted.
The way the Chevez family hated her had never mattered to her, but she loved Armando with every fiber of her being. She loved him with the same fierceness with which she loved her brother and sister. As far as she was concerned, the Chevez family didn’t deserve Armando and his children. And the two De La Cruz brothers, guardians and bullies for the Chevez family, could go straight back to whatever hell had spawned them. They were directly responsible for Armando’s grandfather’s bitter hatred of her. She wasn’t good enough to be a member of the Chevez family. Neither was her beloved mother. Armando’s grandfather had pronounced they would never be accepted into his illustrious family and his reasons had been abundantly clear. Colby’s mother had never married her father, there was no name on Colby’s birth certificate, and Armando’s grandfather would never accept an Anglo harlot and her bastard into his pureblood family.
As she and Ben moved around the vegetable garden toward the ranch house, Colby slowed her pace, turning her mind inward for a moment to focus her strength of will on control. It was important to stay calm and relaxed and to breathe naturally. She tilted her chin and walked with her head up to meet the all-powerful De La Cruz brothers and the Chevez family members who had come to steal her brother and sister and their ranch.
Christine Feehan 5 CARPATHIAN NOVELS Page 37