The Highwayman's Bite

by Brooklyn Ann

  Aldric’s countenance softened, and he reached across the table and patted her hand. “I understand your concern, but allow me to reassure you that things are different in the country. Many gentlemen here do not care for the bustle of the Season. And there are likely gentlemen who would not care a whit about your so-called scandal. I daresay, some may even admire you for having the backbone to stand up for your own honor.” He withdrew with a look of slight surprise, as if he were unaccustomed to affection. His reassuring smile deepened. “And if there are any qualms, they can easily be assuaged if I increase your dowry. Your father has a respectable sum set aside, but I think some land would hold more appeal.”

  Fitz, the butler, interrupted the talk of marriage and dowries by announcing the arrival of the merchant. For a few blissful hours, Vivian forgot about her marriage prospects and delighted in her new fencing costume and mask as Uncle watched her duel with Madame Renarde in the ballroom.

  The tight, though protected, knickers gave her freedom of motion that she’d never imagined, and the padded vest granted a sense of security and confidence to attack and defend without holding anything back. Uncle also surprised Vivian and her companion with new practice swords, foyles, that had small ball tips to avoid one being hurt. Madame Renarde’s swords lacked those tips, so they always had to hold back on their thrusts.

  Vivian smiled at her uncle before saluting Madame Renarde. This new practice sword felt perfect and well-balanced in her grip, but she still preferred the real, unsharpened rapier that she’d wielded against the highwayman. It had given her power.

  Now, as she sparred with her companion, she fantasized about a rematch.

  Chapter Five

  Rhys stood on a large rocky outcrop overlooking Thornton Manor. Even with his preternatural vision, he had to squint to see the forms of Vivian and her companion practicing with their rapiers. This time, there were no skirts to encumber them, for both wore fencing uniforms of white breeches and jackets with protective padding. With the meshed masks that covered their faces, only Vivian’s slim form made her identifiable.

  She moved with such grace and precision that Rhys’s chest tightened with awe at her beauty. The outdoor lanterns placed around the lawn made hers and her companion’s shadows dance like mythical beings, further emphasizing the perfection of the scene.

  Rhys caressed the hilt of his own blade at his hip, wishing to spar with her again. He hadn’t felt so alive, so... stimulated, in decades. And if he were being completely honest, he would very much enjoy kissing her again.

  Alas, that could not be. Not with the plan he had in mind.

  Forcing the memory of Vivian’s soft lips from his mind, he returned his attention back to her deft movements. If Rhys was still human, she may have posed a challenge to him.

  Her teacher had trained her well, and for an aging man—woman, this Madame Renarde was impressive in her prowess. Renarde wasn’t the first male Rhys had encountered that preferred to live as woman. It was an odd proclivity that Rhys would never understand, but he wasn’t one to judge how others chose to lead their lives.

  Rhys was only curious as to how Vivian’s father had come to hire such an eccentric person to be her lady’s companion. Or did her father know that the companion was more than she seemed? Somehow, he didn’t think so. When not fencing, Renarde’s appearance and movements gave the appearance of a genteel matron.

  Yet Vivian’s uncle knew and must not have any qualms. From all Rhys had heard, the Lord Vampire of Blackpool was a stern and implacable ruler over his small territory and even smaller populace. Only twenty vampires lived in this small borough. Which made it easier for Rhys to avoid them. From the week he’d been watching the manor, he already knew when Blackpool’s second in command would come ’round to patrol the Thornton estate and when Blackpool himself did his own inspection of the perimeter.

  As long as Rhys stayed away during those times, he was able to remain undetected and spy on Lord Thornton and his niece.

  In the last few nights, he learned much. Unlike many other mortal descendants who came to stay with the Lord of Blackpool from time to time, Lord Thornton seemed to genuinely adore Vivian. Aside from accepting Vivian’s unorthodox companion and not telling her father, Lord Thornton also permitted her to fence. Through the windows, Rhys observed them often talking together in the study, reading together in the library, or playing chess in the game room. Rhys had even seen the cold and stringent Lord Vampire embrace her. That meant that Blackpool now had a weakness to exploit.

  And exploit it Rhys would.

  Vivian and Renarde saluted each other with their rapiers and removed their masks. Rhys sighed in appreciation as Vivian shook out the rich, dark tumbles of her hair. He still remembered how soft those tresses felt between his fingers.

  With heavy regret, Rhys watched them walk back towards the manor. He could have watched Vivian for hours. When they instead sat on a wrought iron bench on the rear terrace, he smiled in relief.

  Their voices carried on the wind, but Rhys moved closer to hear better. This was what he was supposed to be skulking around for. Information.

  Madame Renarde regarded Vivian with a concerned frown. “You seem out of sorts tonight, Cherie. Is something amiss?”

  Vivian’s despondent sigh made Rhys move forward, as if he could comfort her. “I confess that I am not at all looking forward to the Galveston ball.”

  “Why not?” Madame Renard placed her hand over Vivian’s. “You love dancing.”

  “I know I do, but...” Vivian trailed off with a shrug. “For one thing, I have been enjoying the peaceful quiet in the country far more than I’d anticipated. For another, I’d assumed that Father sent me here to keep me hidden away until the scandal is forgotten.”

  Rhys’s eyebrows rose. Scandal? What scandal? He shoved back his curiosity and the surge of jealousy in wondering if it involved a man, and returned his attention to the conversation.

  “...and so I thought the husband hunting would be put to the side for the time being,” Vivian was saying. “But Uncle said that he intends for me to try and find a suitable match while I’m with him.”

  “That is reasonable of him,” Renarde said. “Some of the respectable families here may not have heard of the scandal. After all, the Waverlys and the Brightons didn’t seem to know about it when they paid us a call yesterday. And I am sorry to say this, but time is of the essence. This was your third season and you are growing close to the age of spinsterhood.”

  “I do not care,” Vivian said coldly. “Spinsterhood doesn’t sound so terrible.”

  Renarde’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you do not wish to wed?”

  Slowly, Vivian nodded. “I don’t think I do. I’ve been thinking of it ever since Father sent us here. In fact, I think that was why I recklessly ruined my reputation.”

  “Why do you not wish to marry?” The companion prodded gently. “I’d thought you’d enjoyed conversing and dancing with gentlemen when we were in London.”

  “Sometimes I did,” Vivian said. “But most of the time, I was uncomfortable when they looked at me like I was someone, maybe something else. None truly saw me. And when I think of marriage, I am filled with such terror that I almost feel ill with it. The idea makes me afraid, though I do not know why.”

  “Do you fear the marriage bed?” Madame Renarde asked softly.

  “A little,” Vivian answered with a tight shrug. “But not any more than the average maiden. At least I don’t think.”

  Rhys’s face heated with guilt. This was a very intimate conversation and one that he did not need to hear for his purposes. Except, perhaps that she was still a maid. Unreasonable pleasure filled him at the knowledge, and not because it was useful.

  “I’ve told you what happens between men and women, but I can elaborate further,” Renarde said. “And reassure you that most women enjoy it.”

  “I am not so green that I do not know that some find pleasure in the act.” Vivian looked down at her lap as if
embarrassed. “If that were not the case, married women would not carry on with affairs. Perhaps you can enlighten me further another time. Right now, I wish to think of a way to dissuade Uncle from seeking to get me leg-shackled.”

  Renarde shook her head. “Part of my responsibility is to see you make a good match, and though I care about you too much to pressure you into doing what you do not wish to do, I feel I must understand the situation more, so that I can better help you find happiness.” The companion leaned forward, and Rhys had to strain to hear the next question. “Are you perhaps romantically interested in women?”

  “Goodness, no!” Vivian laughed lightly, but with no disgust or malice. “My second cousin, Elizabeth, once tried to show me the ways of Sappho and I had no interest. I did recently hear that she has taken up residence with the widowed Lady Mortimer and they are very happy together.”

  “Splendid for them.” Renarde beamed and clasped her hands together. “I didn’t think that was your inclination, especially after observing your response to the highwayman’s kiss, but one never knows unless one asks. Now that we’ve established that you have no physical objection to marriage, we can explore what lies in your heart and mind.”

  Masculine pride swelled in Rhys’s chest. Vivian had responded to his kiss. He hoped she would never forget. In case she did, he would give her one more before he never saw her again.

  The pleasure of that thought was doused with another. He’d had no idea that Madame Renarde had left the carriage and watched him duel with Vivian, much less that she’d seen Rhys kissed her. That unnerved him. No one, human or vampire had caught him unawares before. A darker realization filled him. And Renarde must have had Rhys’s gun, for he’d dropped it in the carriage.

  He could not afford to have Vivian distract him like that. Not with everything that was at stake.

  “Yes,” he heard Vivian say, “That kiss will haunt my dreams for the rest of my days.”

  Damn it.

  “But,” she continued, “Men like that cannot be found in Society. And besides, what are passionate kisses worth when you’re consigned to a lifetime of thing-hood?”

  Madame Renarde’s brows rose to her hairline. Or was that a wig? “Thing-hood?”

  Vivian nodded. “Yes. Wives in Society are basically things to their husbands, expected to look attractive on their arms, bear an heir and a spare, and host balls.”

  “You would be in charge of the household,” Madame Renarde countered. “There is power there.”

  “That is true, and I do not mind that aspect. After all, I’ve done it for Father.” Vivian fell silent a moment, stroking her chin before she turned back to her companion. “Perhaps I could stay with Uncle Aldric forever and care for him. I like it here.”

  Rhys shook his head. There was no chance for that. Although the Lord of Blackpool often allowed his mortal descendants to stay with him, he never allowed them to remain long, lest they discover what he was. No wonder Lord Thornton was so eager to have his niece married off. Still, after only having Vivian with him for a week, the viscount seemed to be in a rush.

  Unfortunately for Lord Thornton, his match-making plans would have to wait.

  “Well,” Madame Renarde said as she rose from the bench, “I do not see how attending the Summerly ball will harm your chances of remaining in Blackpool. In fact, you may make a friend or two.”

  “You’re right.” Vivian rose as well and held her fencing mask to her chest. “It is not as if I’ll receive an offer after one ball anyway.”

  The rear door of the house opened, and Lord Thornton emerged to join them. He paused a moment and scented the air. Rhys froze and thanked the heavens that he was downwind.

  “Good evening, Vivian,” Thornton said with what sounded like genuine affection.

  Rhys wasn’t fooled, though. If the cad was so eager to get rid of his niece, he clearly didn’t care for her much.

  Sure enough, the point was proven as Blackpool continued. “I hope you are not too disappointed that I will not be able to escort you to the Galveston ball.”

  She was disappointed. Rhys could tell from the pained hunch of her shoulders before she straightened them. “Of course, not. I am certain that Madame Renarde and I will have a lovely time in spite of your absence.”

  Rhys’s fists clenched at his sides. What sort of cold-hearted man would decline escorting his own niece to a ball?

  Blackpool shuffled awkwardly on the flagstones, at least looking shame-faced. “I am sorry, Vivian.” Suddenly, he paused and sniffed the air.

  Rhys slipped away before he was detected.

  As he trekked to the village to hunt, he gnashed his fangs in irritation. Here Rhys was, trying to save his only living relations that the Lord of Blackpool was trying to force from their homes. All the while, His Lordship was talking about some superfluous ball where he would auction his niece off to the highest bidder.

  Vivian’s words echoed in his mind. “...when I think of marriage, I am filled with such terror that I almost feel ill with it.”

  But Lord Thornton didn’t care. Rather than allowing one of his only relations to remain with him awhile and care for him and then give her enough money to live out her life as she chose, Lord Thornton was in a rush to rid himself of her shortly after she arrived. How could anyone be so cold-hearted?

  Shortly after feeding from a merchant outside a pub, Rhys scented the approach of some of Blackpool’s vampires. Two of them, from the smell. If necessary, Rhys could probably take them in a fight.

  He flattened himself against the wall of a narrow alley and listened to their conversation as they passed.

  “What do you suppose tomorrow’s Gathering will be about?” the first asked.

  “Probably the usual listening to mundane petitions, inquiries on rogue sightings, and a possible acknowledgement for our service,” the second said, sounding bored. “Though he may deign to mention the niece he has visiting him. Warn us to keep our distance and all that rot.”

  “Oh, I’d forgotten.” The voices faded as the pair made their way out of the village. “I do not understand why he continues to bother with his descendants like that. Nothing good can come of it.”

  “Makes him quite open to weakness, if you ask me.”

  A bitter smile curved Rhys’s lips as Blackpool’s vampires passed out of earshot. No, he hadn’t asked that vampire, but Rhys had already discerned the Lord of Blackpool’s weakness. And he fully intended to exploit it.

  Once he determined that there were no other Blackpool vampires in the area, Rhys ducked out the alley and left the village in the opposite direction the others had went. As he walked, he thought about what he’d heard.

  There was to be a Gathering tomorrow night. Tomorrow, while the Blackpool vampires were there, Rhys would gather all the supplies he required for his plan. Normally, Gatherings put Rhys in a cheerful mood, for it was the only time that he was free to roam a territory without the fear of being caught and arrested as a rogue vampire. This time, however, his mind was preoccupied with its struggle between his plotting and his unhealthy fascination with Vivian. The Gathering must be the reason why the Lord of Blackpool would not accompany his niece to the ball.

  Rhys remembered the hurt in Vivian’s eyes when he’d told her that she and her companion would have to go alone to this ball she didn’t even wish to attend, and his anger increased with every step. Lord Thornton didn’t deserve such a vibrant, talented young woman in his life.

  And Vivian didn’t deserve to be handed off like an unwanted burden.

  His fury ignited to a blaze when he paid a visit to his cousin.

  “He was here again,” Emily said the moment she admitted Rhys into the farmhouse. From the sight of her fearful eyes and wringing hands, she did not need to say who he was.

  Worry churned his insides. “But he was only here a week ago! Is he taunting you?”

  “He said he has plans for the property, but that I may remain in hopes that the new owner will give me a po
sition as a housekeeper.” Emily looked down at her threadbare slippers, avoiding his gaze. Was there a note of consideration in her tone? Did she think of accepting such a degrading offer?

  “But it’s not the end of the month yet!” Rhys shouted and shrugged in apology when Emily frowned at the stairs. He would have hell to pay if he woke the children.

  “Does it really matter?” Emily said bitterly. “It’s not as if I’ll have the money by then. At least Lord Thornton is being merciful in not throwing me and my children off the land straightaway. Perhaps I will have gainful employment before winter.”

  Rhys closed his eyes against a haze of red. “Mercy.” He chuckled drily. “The whoreson is wealthy enough that he could have allowed you to make payments and keep the family farm.”

  “No man would be so generous,” she scoffed. “Even with your contributions, the payments would take longer than my lifetime to recompense.”

  “That is about to change.” Rhys spoke through gritted teeth. “This is Berwyn land and I intend for it to remain Berwyn land until the end of the world. Do not speak of surrendering it to Thornton and working as his servant. I have a plan.”

  “What?” Emily began, but he held up a hand to silence her.

  “It is best if you know nothing. I must go now. I will return as soon as I am able.” With that, he donned his slouch hat and headed out the door without a backward glance.

  He would have to act sooner than he’d planned. However, thanks to Blackpool’s Gathering tomorrow, he could carry off his scheme that night.

  Chapter Six

  Vivian tried not to be sullen as she and Madame Renarde were handed up into the Thornton carriage. She even managed a smile when Uncle bent to kiss her cheek. But the truth was, she did not at all feel like dancing and being introduced to countless new people and socializing with the few she’d already met. All she wanted was to curl up in the cozy overstuffed chair in the library and finish the novel she’d started this afternoon.