by Brooklyn Ann
Vivian’s rebellious countenance softened. “Are you going to Change me into a vampire then?”
He sighed and buried his face in his hands. Mentoring a youngling was among the last things he wanted to do for the next few decades. “I do not yet know what I am going to do. Blast it! What am I going to tell your father? You were supposed to return to London in the Spring, but now, you cannot.”
“Father never cared for me much.” Although her tone was sublime indifference, there was a flash of old hurt in her eyes. “Before I’d learned that you were in a rush to marry me off, I’d planned to ask you if I could remain with you at Thornton Manor and care for you in your dotage.”
“My dotage?” He snorted. “I may be there already.” The remainder of his words registered. “You didn’t wish to wed?”
“I did not.” Vivian crossed her arms over her chest and stared daggers of accusation in his direction. “Something easy to discover had anyone bothered asking me what I wished.”
A twinge of remorse pricked him, but Aldric shrugged it off. “Well, now you are spared the parson’s mousetrap,” he said with a sigh. At least the settlement he’d prepared for Vivian’s dowry also included a trust with a provision for it to belong to her, in case she remained a spinster. A settlement that would bring justice to her, though she wouldn’t know it. “And I suppose you may write to your father and express your wishes to remain in Blackpool. If he refuses, I’ll convince him to change his mind.”
Vivian’s mutinous countenance softened. “Do not look so dismal, Uncle. I am sure we will get on well enough.”
“You’re the one who looks dismal,” Aldric fired back. Madame Renarde’s concerns rang in his mind. “The rogue didn’t bed you, did he?”
“What would it matter if he had?” The crimson flood in her cheeks proclaimed the truth. “I was already compromised. You said so yourself.”
Aldric’s fists clenched at his sides as he rose from his desk and paced the study. “It matters because you’re a highborn lady and your virtue should be reserved for the bonds of matrimony. It matters because you’re my niece and I care very much if some blackguard takes advantage of you.”
“He did not take advantage,” Vivian said through gritted teeth. “I was willing. But I find this conversation to be unseemly and do not wish to speak of something so personal.”
“It’s not the conversation that is unseemly. It is this whole sordid affair.” Still, Aldric didn’t truly wish to know the intimate details. He had his answer. Vivian had indeed fallen for the rogue vampire, the rogue had reciprocated her feelings and as Madame Renarde had predicted, the two had succumbed to temptation. The only positive aspect of this disaster was that at least vampires were sterile, so Aldric did not have to worry about her carrying a bastard. “You are right. We will not discuss this further. The sooner you can forget about that blasted rogue vampire, the better.”
And Aldric would do his best to ensure that she did indeed forget. He gathered his power, fixed Vivian with his gaze, and commanded her to forget all about vampires. “Forget that you loved your captor. He was nothing but a lowly thief and now that you are home, you only wish you get on with living a normal life.”
Vivian blinked and rubbed her temples. Aldric held his breath and silently prayed that his mesmerism has worked just as effectively as it had with Madame Renarde.
“How dare you!” she hissed. “How dare you try to make me forget the only love I’ll ever know?”
“For your own safety.” Aldric returned to his desk and slumped in his chair, defeated. His last hope of eliminating Vivian’s involvement in his world had drifted away like gossamer in the wind. She’d spent too much time with the rogue vampire, had learned too many secrets, and had been intimate with him. Just as Aldric had feared, the memories were permanently etched in her mind and heart. “Didn’t your ‘love’ tell you that a human who learns about vampires must be killed or Changed?”
Vivian crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes,” she said quietly. “He even told me you’d try to make me forget. But I can’t forget. Not after all I’ve been through and what I’ve shared with him.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. “Did you banish Madame Renarde’s memories?”
“Yes.” Aldric shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with Vivian’s display of emotion for a vampire who’d ruined her life. “She only remembers that you were abducted by a highwayman and that I paid the ransom and that we must be discreet lest another scandal breaks out. Please do not say anything to her that could make her remember any other details. Her life depends on it. A vampire can only Change one human every hundred years.”
“I won’t breathe a word,” Vivian promised. “May I go see her now?”
Aldric nodded. “She is in her room. I will have the servants draw you a bath while you visit with your companion.” Now that Aldric had the rogue’s scent, he wanted it washed away from his niece as soon as possible.
Vivian darted from the study, in a rush to see her friend. Aldric shook his head. Only a fortnight away, and she’d already forgotten how to speak and walk like a lady. He took a deep drink of wine before ringing for the housekeeper.
His previously peaceful life had been upended beyond comprehension. His niece had fallen in love with a rogue vampire who’d abducted her for ransom to prevent Aldric from evicting a widow who couldn’t manage the land she lived on. Aldric had spent the past several nights nursing a woman who’d been born a man. And now that he’d finally gotten Vivian back, his niece had been flat out hostile towards him.
What would he do with her? When he’d taken his niece under his wing, it was supposed to have been a brief idyllic reconnection with family and a satisfactory endeavor of finding her a prosperous match and ensuring his family line could continue.
Now he couldn’t return Vivian to her father, he certainly couldn’t marry her off to a mortal, he couldn’t even give her the land he’d settled on her, for as long as she knew his secrets, it was too dangerous for her to leave his home. He would most certainly have to Change her, and spend the next few years teaching her and helping her adjust to life as a vampire.
But to Change her, he’d have to petition the Elders. That was the law for all Lord Vampires. Aldric shuddered with dread at the prospect of corresponding with the oldest and most powerful vampires in the world who oversaw the laws of their kind. Although it was unlikely that whatever lie he fabricated for his reasons to bring his niece into the fold would be detected, there was always the slim chance that the Elders would send a representative to hear the case in person.
After he ordered Vivian’s bath to be drawn, Aldric left his office and looked in on Vivian’s reunion with Madame Renarde. He prayed Vivian was holding to her vow to keep her silence about all things pertaining to vampires.
He paused in Madame Renarde’s doorway and watched the two exchanging an affectionate embrace. Madame Renarde’s palpable joy and relief to see Vivian brought an unexpected lump to Aldric’s throat. How long had it been since he’d felt such a closeness for someone? At least two hundred years. Vivian had burrowed her way into his heart and Renarde had gained his respect and admiration in ways Aldric had not anticipated. As he observed Vivian’s protective concern over her companion’s illness and listened to her questions about how she was treated, he felt a pang of melancholy.
That was yet another tangle in this disastrous affair. Vivian’s foray into the vampire world would cleave their friendship like a stone slowly cut by rushing water in a river. No longer could she talk with her companion about everything in her life. Only Aldric would be safe to talk to and since he’d separated Vivian from her lover, he didn’t anticipate her confiding with him.
Especially when he was finished dealing with said lover. Damn that rogue to hell.
Vivian rose from Madame Renarde’s sickbed and levelled Aldric with an accusing glare as she strode to the door. “You cannot grant me a moment’s privacy with my companion?”
Aldric ignored the sting h
e felt at her angry tone. “Actually, I only came by to let you know that I must go out tonight and ask you to remain here with Madame Renarde.”
Her stormy countenance softened slightly. “Oh. Well, have a satisfactory hunt, then.”
“Lower your voice,” he admonished with a whisper. “And you are not to leave the house until I’ve decided what to do with you.”
Vivian visibly bristled once more. “I recant my words regarding our prospects of getting on well together.” Before she could utter another biting set-down, the housekeeper appeared in the corridor to announce that her bath had been prepared. Vivian gave him one last furious glare and flounced to her chambers.
Aldric’s shoulders slumped with despair. He had to find a way to repair their relationship before he Changed her. Alas, there was little chance of that, for if Vivian discovered his next course of action, she would hate him for all eternity.
Chapter Twenty-five
Rhys hugged his arms as he trudged through the mud to the Berwyn Farm. He could have used his preternatural speed to cover the miles from his cave to Emily’s house, but he simply did not have the spirit to run. He knew he should feel happy and victorious that he’d managed to secure the money to save his family farm as well as cause havoc with the Lord of Blackpool for his cruelty in trying to force Emily and her children from their home.
Yet after spending time with Vivian, reading, talking, and laughing with her, kissing her, making love to her, and ultimately falling hopelessly in love with her, the victory felt hollow.
A cold, ragged hole resided where his heart used to be. If not for his duty to protect his kin, Rhys would have been tempted to take Vivian and flee England. Leaving her at that inn had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.
Almost as difficult as lying to her had been. Rhys knew that Vivian’s uncle would never forget the insult borne against him. The Lord of Blackpool would ensure that Rhys would be hunted by every vampire Blackpool could employ. If Rhys didn’t leave the country before dawn, his life was likely forfeit.
Remembering that fact, he willed his feet to carry him faster, running in a blur until he entered Blackpool’s territory. For a moment, the temptation to turn towards Thornton Manor to see Vivian and make sure she was safe reverberated in his bones. But he knew that was folly. Blackpool would most certainly have his vampires guarding the perimeter. Still, his constant worries refused to abate. Had Vivian been Changed? If so, how was she coping with the situation? Would her uncle be a compassionate mentor?
Or if Lord Thornton had decided against Changing Vivian, what did that mean for her future? Would Vivian be kept a virtual prisoner, isolated from the world so that she couldn’t tell anyone of the existence of vampires?
What about Madame Renarde? While Rhys knew that Aldric wouldn’t kill his own niece, he wasn’t so certain that Vivian’s companion would be spared.
God, he’d been such a fool. Although revealing himself and Lord Thornton as vampires had certainly resulted in Aldric capitulating to the ransom, Rhys should never have endangered Vivian’s and Madame Renarde’s lives with such a dangerous action.
But there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing he could do was fulfill his original mission and take care of his own family.
He paused at the edge of the Berwyn Farm and scented the air. A shuddering sigh of relief escaped him when he didn’t smell any other vampires. He’d knock on Emily’s door, give her the money, and have her awaken the children so he could tell them all goodbye.
His chest tightened as the fact sank in that not only would he never see Emily, Jacob, and Alice again, he’d also never set eyes on any of his mortal descendants again. Not so long as the Lord of Blackpool lived.
At least the farm remained in the Berwyn family. Rhys had made certain of that. He reached in his pocket and felt the reassuring weight of the hundred and ninety-eight pounds in coins. Two pounds had gone to Vivian’s room and meals at the Owl Inn and Rhys would give all but five pounds to Emily, so that not only could she pay off the mortgage, she’d also be able to purchase food and perhaps seed or livestock to begin the arduous process of making the land profitable as it once was.
That would be the only comfort Rhys would have as he lived the rest of his doubtlessly short life running from the Lord of Blackpool and his allies. With a heavy sigh, Rhys started forward to deliver salvation and bid his farewells.
Suddenly, he was seized from behind. Firm hands gripped his upper arms like iron manacles.
“You didn’t think you’d be able to win this game, did you?” a cold voice hissed in his ear.
Rhys’s stomach sank with dread. “Blackpool.”
“The very same, but you will address me as Lord Thornton.” The other vampire jerked his arms further back, and then real manacles were clamped over Rhys’s wrists. “And you are Rhys Berwyn, a rogue vampire. You are under arrest for kidnapping, extortion, and the cardinal crime of revealing our existence to not one, but two mortals. You also compromised my niece. Although that is not technically a crime, I will see that you pay dearly for it. To start, I am foreclosing on that farm tomorrow.”
As Rhys was dragged away, his soul contorted in agony. After all his efforts, sacrificing what little honor he’d had left, and sacrificing the love of his life, he’d failed.
Berwyn Farm was lost to his family, Emily and her children would be tossed out into the cold, and Rhys would die in vain.
“I did it for love,” Rhys muttered. “Every bit of it.”
“Save your prattle for when I question you,” Aldric growled before he shoved Rhys into the luggage boot of his carriage.
Rhys closed his eyes and sighed with yearning as he detected a hint of Vivian’s scent. At least she’d been brought home safe. Had her uncle Changed her yet? Rhys doubted it, for there wouldn’t have been much time between the transformation and the first feeding before Aldric had tracked Rhys down and arrested him. Not to mention that Lord Thornton would have been weakened by the process. From how easily the vampire had restrained Rhys, he must have conserved his strength thus far.
When the carriage halted, Rhys was hauled outside. For the first time in his life, the sight of Thornton Manor did not inspire a sense of hatred. Instead, abject longing emanated from his heart like a beacon before a storm-swept ship. Rhys lifted his head and smelled the air, desperate to take in his last scent of Vivian. She was here, his senses screamed, and every cell of his being surged to break free and go to her. He caught Madame Renarde’s scent as well, faint, and not as sickly as before. Thank God Aldric hadn’t killed her. Vivian’s love would have twisted to loathing if he’d been responsible for the demise of her dearest friend. He looked up at the windows, wishing more than anything for one last glimpse of Vivian.
Aldric’s fingers clamped down on the back of his neck, breaking off Rhys’s search. “If you make a sound, I will forego your trial and put a bullet in your brain.”
A trial? A jagged laugh caught in Rhys’s throat. What was the point? He was guilty as sin. The Lord of Blackpool must be a stuffed shirt indeed to bother with such an empty formality. Unless, Rhys thought with dawning horror, Blackpool’s idea of a trial involved torture.
Yet still, Rhys did not struggle, for in case Vivian was peering through the window, he didn’t want her to see him killed right then and there.
Lord Thornton led him to a stone staircase at the rear of the house and hefted Rhys over his shoulder so suddenly, it knocked the wind out of Rhys’s lungs.
He carried Rhys down the steps with one arm as if he weighed no more than thistledown. Rhys probably could have struggled free, but the smell of a gun—no doubt holstered near Thornton’s free hand—told him what would happen if he tried.
Instead, Rhys remained still as Aldric unlocked an iron door and carried him into a pitch-black cellar. Even with preternatural sight, it was hard for Rhys to make out the details of his surroundings, though the creak of metal hinges was familiar enough.
Withou
t warning, Aldric tossed Rhys across the room. Rhys’s back slammed against a solid wall and he grunted, the wind knocked out of him.
Stars danced before his eyes as he heard the strike of a match. Lord Thornton’s unforgiving features were illuminated as he lit a lantern outside the bars of the cell he’d tossed Rhys into. Rhys glanced around at the sturdy, stone walls and blinked in surprise at the sight of a pallet on the floor and the clean floor. Blackpool’s dungeon was far more comfortable than Manchester’s.
Still, Rhys noted the thick iron rings bolted into the ceiling, made for suspending a captive in the air. Comfort did not promise mercy.
Aldric reinforced the notion when he strode across the dungeon and opened a cabinet, pulling out a massive gun meant to shoot elephants on safari. He entered Rhys’s cell and aimed the gun at his chest. “Why were you exiled by your original lord?”
The question threw Rhys off guard. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am asking how you came to be a rogue,” Blackpool snapped from behind the enormous gun barrel.
Rhys leaned against the wall, unable to see why it mattered. “Because I continued to leave my lord’s territory without a writ of passage.”
Lord Thornton raised one eyebrow. “Why?”
“My great-grand niece needed me.” Rhys glared at the other vampire. “Her wastrel husband had mortgaged the family farm before cocking up his toes. I was giving her money so that she could stave off eviction. I thought you already knew this, being that you hold the mortgage and denied my application to move to Blackpool so that I could help her.”
“I’ve received dozens of applications over the last decade.” Aldric’s frown deepened. “I can only accept so many, since my territory can only safely sustain a limited number of vampires. If your disobedience was mentioned, or if you had no references to recommend you, I would have issued my standard rejection.”
Rhys’s former best friend, John, was supposed to have written a commending reference. Now Rhys realized that John had betrayed him. There could be no other explanation, as Rhys had obeyed his lord until his application to Blackpool had been denied. And now, Aldric’s indifferent tone rubbed further salt in the old wound. Rhys’s future and the fate of his family had been nothing but a jot of discarded paper to him.