The Highwayman's Bite

by Brooklyn Ann

  “Who was your former lord anyway?” Thornton asked, oblivious to Rhys’s pain.

  “Manchester,” Rhys spat the name. “Are you going to turn me over to him?” If so, then at least perhaps he could curse John to the lowest circle of hell before he was executed.

  “And deprive myself of making you answer for your crimes against me?” Aldric snorted. “I think not.” He stalked around Rhys like an angry lion, keeping the elephant gun trained on him the entire time. “It is unfortunate that you chose robbery and extortion as your effort to help your family. Although I frown on disobedience, I would have been willing to listen to an appeal, and at the very least, granted your niece an extra year to catch up on her payments. I am not an unreasonable man.”

  “How was I supposed to know that? You rejected my petition when I thought you knew that I had mortal kin in your territory who needed my help.” Rhys pulled at his chains. “You care for your family, why don’t you understand that I care for mine?”

  Lord Thornton regarded him with an imperious glare. “If you truly cared for them, you would have done something other than extort the money needed from the very Lord Vampire who held the mortgage. A Lord Vampire who was bound to catch you in the end. Your spite won over your reason.” He pointed the gun like a wagging finger of condemnation. “Did you target me because you thought it clever to bilk me out of the money for a mortgage that I held, or was it out of anger that I denied your petition for citizenship?”

  “Both.” The admission tore from his lips.

  Crippling humiliation forced Rhys to his knees. Lord Thornton was right. Rhys’s pride and anger had made the choice to target the Lord Vampire of Blackpool for ransom money. If he’d set aside his anger for one moment, he would have chosen a safer course of action. Robbed a mortal nobleman, perhaps. Hell, he could have sneaked into one of London’s hallowed clubs and cheated a thick-pocketed earl in a game of cards.

  But Lord Thornton wasn’t finished with his castigations. “And on top of all that, you forced my niece into our world, thus destroying any hope of a normal future for her. You defiled her body and broke her heart.”

  “I did not rape her!” Rhys would not allow that untruthful abomination to be laid at his feet. “She gave herself to me willingly. If I could have wed her first, I would have gladly. I love her!”

  Lord Thornton bared his fangs and growled. “The thought of a union between my precious Vivian and a low-born, thieving scoundrel like you makes me ill!” He strode toward Rhys, eyes glowing red with unholy wrath. “Bloody hell, I can still smell her on you.” The vampire closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, visibly struggling to collect himself. “I think I’ve questioned you enough. “I, Aldric Cadell, the Lord Vampire of Blackpool charge you, Rhys Berwyn, of kidnapping, extortion, theft, trespassing, and revealing the secrets of our kind.” Thornton pressed the gun barrel to Rhys’s heart. “How do you plead?”

  “Guilty,” Rhys stated flatly. “To all charges.”

  He closed his eyes, awaiting death. “Goodbye Vivian,” he whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Three days later

  Vivian wiggled her hairpin in the lock and cursed as it once more skittered uselessly in the keyhole. Her fingers ached like the devil, but she refused to give up.

  A cough sounded behind her. “What are you doing?” Madame Renarde asked in a chiding tone.

  “I’m trying to get inside Uncle’s study,” she answered through gritted teeth. “As soon as I can pick this bloody lock. And you should be resting. The doctor only permitted you to be out of bed yesterday.”

  Although Vivian was pleased to be reunited with her best friend, and relieved that Uncle hadn’t killed her, she still felt a sense of loss. Because Uncle had banished Madame Renarde’s memories of everything pertaining to vampires, Vivian not only couldn’t tell her closest friend about the true depths of her heartache, and uncertain future, she also had to endure Madame Renarde rubbing further salt in the wound by admonishing her to forget about the wicked thief who’d seduced her.

  And oh, how Vivian missed that wicked thief. Rhys haunted her dreams and every waking thought. She would give anything for one last glimpse of him, her very soul for one more moment in his arms. Had he gotten away safely? Was he thinking of her? Did love always hurt so much?

  Madame Renarde interrupted Vivian’s inner mourning. “Why are you trying to break into Lord Thornton’s study?”

  “Because I need to look at his ledgers and deeds. I need to know if Rhys’s niece received the money and had her farm restored to her.” As the nights passed with no visitors from solicitors and no word from her uncle about the farm, Vivian’s worry grew. She had to know if Rhys’s family had been saved. That at least the consequences of her abduction had been worth it. It was the only closure Vivian could hope to receive.

  Besides, Rhys would want her to make sure that Emily and the children were all right. Since he had to flee England, he had no way of knowing.

  Madame Renarde made a tsk of disapproval. “You have that pin bent all wrong. Give me another one and let me try.”

  Vivian blinked in surprise. Was her companion an ally after all? From the way Madame Renarde spoke during suppers with Uncle Aldric, Vivian thought that her companion hated Rhys for what he’d done.

  Only seconds after Vivian handed Madame Renarde a new hairpin, her companion bent the slim piece of metal, inserted the pin, and with a twist, the lock clicked free.

  “I’ve picked dozens of locks of this style,” Madame Renarde said with a smirk.

  Vivian smiled for the first time since Rhys left her at the inn. Sometimes, it was useful to have a companion who’d once been a spy.

  Together, they entered Lord Thornton’s office. Vivian lit the lantern on the desk and Madame Renarde closed the door behind them and locked it in case a servant overheard them. Vivian made her way to Uncle’s large mahogany desk, but her companion stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “He will likely keep property deeds in a locked box.” Madame Renarde scanned the room. “Probably in that cabinet.”

  Vivian found four locked boxes in the cabinet. Madame Renarde had a bit more difficulty unlocking them, but she managed to spring the first one, which contained a fortune in bank drafts. The deeds were in the second box. Vivian’s eyes widened at the formidable stack as she carried them to the desk to read. Her uncle owned farms and estates not only all over Blackpool, but also in London, Scotland, and even property in Italy and France.

  Madame Renarde rifled through the papers with a frown. “The majority are deeds he owns outright.” She came to a smaller stack with different seals and signatures. “Ah. Here are the mortgages. But how are you to know which one belongs to Rhys’s family when we don’t know his surname?”

  “His niece’s name is Emily.” Vivian’s heart sank. “But it would have been her husband who mortgaged the place. Rhys only referred to him as a wastrel. Which he most certainly was, to sell off his wife’s land like that.”

  Madame Renarde continued to scan the documents. “Lord Thornton may have had her sign it if he was allowing her to make payments before. Ah!” She held up a paper. “Berwyn Farm, first signed by a William Horne, then later by Emily Berwyn Horne.”

  “Rhys Berwyn.” At last, Vivian knew her love’s full name. “He was Welsh.”

  Her companion arched her brow. “Do not tell me that you broke into Lord Thornton’s study simply to discern that thief’s surname.”

  Vivian suppressed her wistful smile and shook her head. “No. I want to know if Emily had the farm restored.”

  “Since the deed is still here, signed over to Lord Thornton, I’d say not.” Madame Renarde shrugged. “However, there is no telling if or when Rhys was able to deliver the money. Furthermore, I imagine it would be difficult for a widow with two small children to have the time and ability to make her way here to deliver the payment. She may be waiting for your uncle to come to her.”

  “Then there is o
nly one way to find out.” Vivian took one of her uncle’s quills and a sheet of parchment from his desk drawer and wrote down the address of the farm from the deed. “I shall have to pay her a visit.”

  Madame Renarde fixed her with a stern frown. “Your uncle said you were not to leave the house.”

  For a moment Vivian almost slipped and said that her uncle wouldn’t be able to stop her, since vampires could not go out in the day. “If he rises before I return, you will know nothing about my leaving or anything disturbed in his study. You’re supposed to be resting. I will take Jeffries with me.” She stormed down the stairs before Madame Renarde could protest.

  The footman, unfortunately, was also privy to her uncle’s orders and tried to refuse. It was only when Vivian threatened to saddle her own horse and go alone that he complied. “His Lordship will hear of this, Miss,” he admonished.

  “I expect he will,” Vivian replied and dug her heels in the horse’s flanks.

  The afternoon sun was painfully bright after weeks of only being out at night. Still, the day was beautiful and green, the sky blue as cornflowers and the November sun surprisingly warm on her back. Vivian shivered as she realized that soon she would never be able to experience the daylight again.

  That was, if Uncle would indeed Change her. He’d avoided the subject for the past several nights, instead trying to charm her into their previous congenial interactions as if her time with Rhys had never occurred. Vivian couldn’t be swayed by the act. Not only because she was still angry at him for his callous dismissal of her feelings, but also because it was impossible to observe frivolous niceties when her future was in purgatory.

  Berwyn Farm lay only four miles from her uncle’s estate. As she and Madame Renarde rode up the rutted drive, Vivian’s first sight of the farm made her stomach sink. The cottages meant for the field hands had tumbled down, their timbers rotted away. The gray wood of the barn was swollen and warped, its roof had a gaping hole where the beams had collapsed.

  Yet Vivian remembered the fondness that had radiated from Rhys’s features when he’d spoken of the place. “The property is forty-three acres. I spent half my childhood working them, and the other half climbing trees in the orchard, swimming in the pond, and fishing in the brook.”

  After uttering a silent prayer, Vivian dismounted and bade Jeffries to remain at the end of the drive with the horses and approached the farmhouse. Despite its peeling grey paint and missing roof shingles, she could see the cozy charm of the home.

  When she knocked on the door, Vivian drew in a breath, wondering what Rhys’s niece would make of her. Cousin, she corrected herself. Rhys told her they were cousins.

  The door opened to reveal a tall auburn-haired woman. Even her shabby, tattered dress and the lines of exhaustion around her eyes and mouth couldn’t obscure her breathtaking beauty. Copper eyes, the same color as Rhys’s, narrowed on Vivian and her companion with suspicion. “Who are you?”

  “I am Miss Vivian Stratford.” Vivian curtsied.

  Emily’s suspicion warped to outright malice. “Come to admire your dowry already? Lord Thornton may have foreclosed on me day before yesterday, but he gave me another fortnight to make arrangements for myself and the children.”

  Foreclosed? Vivian’s heart clenched as her worst fear was confirmed. “Rhys didn’t bring you the money?”

  Emily’s eyes widened, as her mask of bitterness melted into panic. “You know Rhys? Have you seen him? He was supposed to come by three nights ago.”

  Vivian didn’t know what she could say to reassure the woman, but she had to say something. Furthermore, she also wanted to know why Emily assumed this farm was her dowry. Marriage was out of the question for her. “Ah, may I come in?”

  “Please do.” Emily’s face was white as linen.

  Once they were seated at the scarred maple dining room table, Emily poured two cups of cider with shaky hands. “Tell me how you know my cousin.”

  Vivian hesitated. “Where are your children? This is a subject too delicate for their ears.”

  “They’re in the barn, playing with the kittens.” She peered out the window just in case and lowered her voice. “You know what means he used to support me, don’t you? Was he arrested by a constable?”

  Vivian shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.” Though she feared that if her uncle or another Lord Vampire had caught Rhys, an arrest by human authorities could be the only explanation offered to this poor woman. “As to how I know him, he abducted me for ransom.”

  Emily gasped. “He thought to bilk Lord Thornton out of the funds needed for the mortgage that he himself held?

  “Yes.” Vivian tasted her cider. It was delightfully sweet for such a bitter conversation. “And he succeeded, to my knowledge. My uncle paid Rhys, and he returned me the following evening. He was supposed to come straight to you to deliver the money.”

  “And he never arrived.” Emily fell into a pensive silence and sipped her cider. “But why have you come if you thought I’d paid off the mortgage?”

  “Because Rhys said he’d have to leave the country after what he’s done, so I thought he would want someone to make sure that his family was safe.” Vivian’s throat tightened as she stared into the woman’s copper eyes, remembering how he’d looked at her the same way when they’d discussed the mysteries in the “Two Hills” stories. “We fell in love, you see... and—”

  “Oh my!” Emily exclaimed, hand over her throat. “My cousin is a good-hearted man, despite his thieving ways, and quite charming, so I can see why a maid would lose her heart to him... but the circumstances are tragic. I imagine His Lordship was furious.”

  “Absolutely livid.” Vivian agreed with a bitter smile.

  “And yet you care enough to come here to see if I had received the money,” Emily said softly. “Even though if that were the case, this land would not be yours.”

  “I’m not certain it is mine,” Vivian said. “Uncle never said anything to me about it and as I told you, I am quite compromised. What makes you think the farm is my dowry?”

  “Because he told me he intended to give it to you when he came to tell me that I had to pay by months’ end.” Emily frowned over the rim of her cup. “He said that he would ask that your husband would allow me to stay and work for you as a housekeeper.”

  “Housekeeper?” Vivian echoed in outrage. “When you’re the mistress of this land? I hope you threw that insulting offer back in his face!”

  Emily chuckled. “Rhys said the same before he announced that he had a plan. I never imagined that it involved kidnapping Lord Thornton’s niece.” She shook her head, a mirthful smile just like Rhys’s curving her lips. “I do not think you are supposed to be on my side.”

  “Well I am,” Vivian declared. “I will speak to my uncle tonight and try to convince him to return the deed to your land, or at the very least, grant you more time. Perhaps Rhys is merely delayed.”

  “Or perhaps your uncle had him arrested.” Emily’s face was etched with worry.

  “I will find out,” Vivian promised. “No matter what, I promise that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you do not lose your home.”

  Emily sighed and shook her head. “Women have no power in this world.”

  “Then we should all do our utmost to change that.” Vivian rose from the table. The sun hung low in the sky and would set in less than two hours. “I will return when I have news.” She held out her hand and was gratified when Emily shook it. “It was an honor to meet you. Rhys has told me so much about you.”

  Emily managed a watery smile. “You will have to tell me more about yourself and the tale of how you came to love him.”

  “I would like that.” Vivian curtsied one last time before departing. On her way back to the horses, she silently vowed to continue Rhys’s mission to protect his family, no matter the consequences.

  Jeffries protested as Vivian raced her horse back to Thornton Manor, but she refused to slow and left the footman in the dust.
What had happened to Rhys? And if Uncle Aldric intended on giving her Berwyn Farm for a dowry, what did he intend to do with it now that Vivian could no longer wed?

  If she’d only known about the dowry, she would have eloped with Rhys. Then he could have given the deed to the farm back to Emily. Uncle would have still been angry, but at least it would have been legal.

  Or at least, it would be if Rhys hadn’t been a vampire.

  Madame Renarde waited in the parlor, wringing her hands, an embroidery hoop in her lap. “Did you meet Mrs. Horne?”

  “I did.” Vivian reached into the sewing basket for something to do while she waited for her uncle to rise for the night. “Rhys didn’t deliver the money on time and Uncle Aldric foreclosed on the farm.”

  “Oh, that is unfortunate.” Madame Renarde said with genuine sympathy. “That means he risked his life for nothing.”

  “Uncle Aldric intended on giving me the land for my dowry.” Vivian threaded a needle and blinked back tears at the memory of mending Rhys’s clothes. “I am going to see if I can find a way to restore the land to Emily.”

  “You would truly take up that man’s quest?” Madame Renarde gaped at her in surprise.

  “My conscience depends on it.” Vivian stabbed the needle through the hoop. “And since we cannot be together, this is the only way I can display my love for him.”

  Before Madame Renarde could respond, Aldric entered the parlor.

  Vivian tossed her embroidery aside and stood. “Uncle, may we speak in private?”

  The wary look in his eyes indicated that he heard the cold anger in her voice. “Very well. Let us head up to my study.”

  The moment they were alone, Vivian slapped her palms down on Aldric’s massive desk. “Why didn’t you tell me that you intended to give me Berwyn Farm for my dowry?”