"Analisa, my sweet, you are such a joy to me."
"And you to me."
"You are sure you want to stay here with me, to spend the rest of your life with me? Think carefully on your answer, 'Lisa, for once you are truly mine, I will not let you go. The only thing that will part us is death. Yours, or mine."
"I've done nothing but think of it," she replied. "Don't you know that?"
" 'Lisa."
He spoke her name with such love, such emotion, that she couldn't stay her tears.
He was at her side in an instant, drawing her up into his embrace, his lips moving in her hair as he whispered that he loved her, would love her all the days of her life.
She clung to him, her arms tight around his waist, knowing, in the deepest part of her being, that she was where she belonged.
She offered no protest when he swung her into his arms and carried her swiftly up the stairs to his room.
He placed her on the bed, his eyes hot as they moved over her. She smiled with anticipation as he closed the door, shutting out the rest of the world.
"Will you now make an honest woman of me?" she asked.
She was lying on top of him, her arms folded across his broad chest, her chin resting on her arms.
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes, very much." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "Will you marry me, my lord doctor?"
"Whenever you wish."
"Truly?"
"Truly." He smiled as her face lit up like a child's at Christmas. "Where would you like to be wed?"
"I don't know." She hesitated a moment. "Could we be married in a church? With lots of flowers and candles?"
"If you wish."
"Oh, I do, very much."
"I shall arrange for the church. You will need a dress. Have Mrs. Thornfield take you into the city."
"She still loves you, doesn't she?" Analisa stroked his cheek. "Someday I'll be as old as she is," Analisa murmured, her expression troubled. "Will you still love me then?"
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "I will always love you. Your outer beauty may fade, but you will always be beautiful on the inside. And I will always see you as you look now, your eyes filled with love and your skin glowing and your lips swollen from my kisses."
In a single fluid move, he rolled over and tucked her beneath him. "So, Analisa, my sweet, you need but name the day."
She frowned thoughtfully. "A week from Sunday? That should give me time enough to have a dress made, shouldn't it?"
He shrugged. "With enough money behind you, anything is possible. Spend whatever you wish." He smiled down at her. "Buy yourself a whole new wardrobe."
"Won't it be painful for Mrs. Thornfield to go shopping with me?" she asked. "I know if I were in her shoes, I should hate to watch another woman getting ready to marry the man I loved. Maybe I should take Frannie instead."
"No," he said adamantly. "She is too young. You will take Mrs. Thornfield. And have Farleigh accompany you as well. He can wait for you outside."
She looked up at him with a faint expression of alarm. "Why do I need Farleigh to stay with me? What are you afraid of?"
"Nothing. I am only being cautious—"
"Because of Rodrigo? But surely he can't hurt me during the day. Can he?"
"No, 'Lisa, but the city can be a dangerous place. I am not willing to take any chances, not now." He gazed down at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Will you stay the night with me?"
With a nod, she drew his head down and kissed him, all else forgotten but the need that burned so brightly between them.
When she woke in the morning, she was alone in his bed. Troubled, she wondered why he had left when he had asked her to stay. And then she saw the note. And the single red rose with the thorns cut away. Smiling, she unfolded the sheet of paper.
I love you, my sweet Analisa, and count the hours until I can hold you in my arms again. Yours in life and death.
Alesandro
Laying the note aside, she picked up the rose. It was blood-red and perfect, the petals as soft as velvet against her cheek.
She rang for Frannie, knew as soon as the maid entered the room that Alesandro had informed the household of their upcoming nuptials.
"Cook is preparing your breakfast," Frannie said. She held out a robe for Analisa. "Your bath is ready. Farleigh will have the coach at the front door by the time you've finished breakfast."
"Thank you." Analisa belted the robe at her waist, picked up the rose and the note, and left Alesandro's chamber.
She found a dozen red roses in a crystal vase on her dressing table, as well as another note, which simply said, I love you. A.
Tossing her robe on the bed, she took a leisurely bath. She wished Alesandro were there to share it with her, wished she could feel his skin against hers, his hands moving over her. She blushed from head to heel as she imagined the two of them in the same tub, their bodies covered with soap suds.
Frannie came to help her dress and do her hair, and then Analisa went downstairs to a very late breakfast. There was a vase of red roses in the center of the dining room table, and a note that said, I am dreaming of you, even now. A
Lost in thoughts of Alesandro and the night she had spent in his arms, she paid little attention to what Frannie placed in front of her. Alesandro. Just the mere thought of him brought a smile to her face even as she wondered why he had left their bed. She had looked forward to waking beside him even though it was disconcerting to see him lying so still.
Too excited to finish her breakfast, she was about to leave the dining room when Mrs. Thornfield came in.
"The coach is ready whenever you are, miss."
Was it her imagination, Analisa wondered, or did the housekeeper seem more remote than usual? "Thank you, Mrs. Thornfield. Are you ready to go?"
With a nod, the housekeeper put on her cloak and bonnet and followed her out the door.
Definitely aloof, Analisa mused as she descended the front steps. Farleigh was waiting beside the coach. He opened the door and helped both women inside, then climbed up on the box. A moment later, the coach lurched into motion.
Analisa had known the housekeeper would be upset when she learned that Alesandro intended to marry. Analisa couldn't blame the woman for the way she felt. Still, she couldn't help being hurt by the housekeeper's reserve. Mrs. Thornfield had been the closest thing to a friend Analisa had had since leaving the hospital. The woman had made her feel at home, taught her to read and write, praised her efforts. Now she wouldn't even meet Analisa's eyes.
It was a long, silent ride. Analisa gazed out the window, watching the passing countryside, wishing she could think of something to say to ease the tension in the coach, but nothing came to mind. She felt that she owed the housekeeper an apology, but she wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though she had stolen Alesandro from her. According to Alesandro, there had never been any commitment between him and the housekeeper. It wasn't Analisa's fault that Alesandro hadn't loved the other woman. Analisa hadn't even been born at the time. Yet still she felt guilty.
With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Alesandro's image immediately sprang to mind. She pictured him in the stone cottage, his body trapped in sleep. Did vampires dream? She would have to ask him tonight. She smiled, thinking of the hours she would spend in his arms. Alesandro. Sleep and dream your girlish dreams, and I will make them come true. She had heard him whisper those words once. At the time, she had thought she had dreamed them, but now… now she wasn't so sure. But, imagined or not, he had indeed made her dreams come true.
She woke at the cessation of movement. Peering out the window, she saw that Farleigh had stopped the coach in front of an exclusive dressmaker's shop.
Farleigh opened the door and handed Analisa out.
Then, instead of staying with the coach, he accompanied Analisa and Mrs. Thornfield to the door of the shop. Mrs. Thornfield followed Analisa inside.
As soon a
s they entered the building, a tall woman hurried forward to meet them. "Welcome to Womack's," she said, extending her hand. "I am Madame Devereaux. How may I help you."
"I'm getting married," Analisa said, taking the woman's hand. "I need a dress."
"She is also to have a whole new wardrobe," Mrs. Thornfield added. Mrs. Devereaux beamed at Analisa. "It will be a pleasure to serve you." Her gaze moved swiftly and professionally over Analisa's figure. "Have you any preference for a wedding gown?"
Analisa shook her head. "I don't know."
"Let me show you some sketches," the modiste suggested, and for the next hour, Analisa looked at sketches and fabrics, finally settling on a simple gown of white silk with long, fitted sleeves, a square neckline, and a full skirt with a modest train. She chose a full-length veil made of delicate lace.
Madame Devereaux took the necessary measurements and promised the gown would be ready in time for the wedding, then went on to show Analisa a number of other dresses, as well as undergarments. Lastly, Madame Devereaux showed her several lovely nightgowns, one so diaphanous it was like wearing little more than a whisper of black silk. It was quite the most provocative thing Analisa had ever seen. The thought of wearing it, of having Alesandro see her in something so immodest, brought a blush to her cheeks.
Madame Devereaux smiled knowingly as she added the nightgown to Analisa's purchases.
By the time Analisa signed the bill and arranged for everything to be sent to the house, her head was spinning.
Outside, she took a deep breath.
"Are you ready to go home, miss?" Farleigh asked.
"Not yet." She moved down the street, with Farleigh and Mrs. Thornfield trailing behind her. When she reached a cafe, she went inside and ordered a cup of tea and a hot buttered scone. Mrs. Thornfield refused to enter the establishment and waited outside with Farleigh.
Analisa sighed as she poured milk into her tea. Life was going to be quite unpleasant if Mrs. Thornfield continued to be so disapproving and aloof. Perhaps Alesandro would know what to do.
She was about to leave the cafe when Geoffrey Starke paused at her table.
"Miss Matthews," he exclaimed.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Starke."
He gestured at an empty chair. "May I?"
Slightly flustered, she nodded.
"You're looking quite well," Geoffrey remarked, taking the seat across from her.
"Thank you."
"Will you have another cup of tea?"
"No, thank you." She glanced out the window, suddenly aware of the time. "I really should be going."
"Please," he said. "Stay a moment."
She didn't want to be rude, so she nodded and agreed to stay long enough for one more cup.
"I had hoped to call on you before this," Geoffrey remarked. "But, alas, my mother was taken quite ill and I've been afraid to leave her."
"I hope she's feeling better."
"Yes, thank you. Lady Fairfax is hosting a musicale next month. I should be most pleased if you would accompany me."
Analisa took a deep breath. She would never have a better opportunity than this. "I'm sorry, Mr. Starke, but I'm afraid I can't accept. You see, I'm going to be married."
Geoffrey stared at her. "Married? To whom?"
"To Lord Avallone."
"Avallone?" Geoffrey looked at her as if she had suddenly grown another head. "Dear Lord, you can't be serious!"
"Why not? He's a fine… a fine man."
"Don't tell me you've never heard the stories about him?"
"What stories?"
Geoffrey shook his head. "They say he's a ghoul, that he performs experiments on his patients, that he's looking for the secret of eternal life."
She laughed softly. "Surely you don't believe that."
He shrugged. "Perhaps not, but there are too many stories. There is likely some truth there, somewhere."
"I live in his house," Analisa said. "I've seen no evidence of such nonsense."
"His house?"
"Yes, didn't you know?"
Geoffrey shook his head. "I was told he rarely left Blackbriar."
"Then you've never met him?"
"No."
Analisa smiled faintly. "He was my escort at your masquerade."
"The tall man," Geoffrey murmured. "The one dressed as Satan?"
"Yes."
"And now you intend to marry him. Why?"
"Because I love him, of course."
"It happened rather suddenly, didn't it?"
"No. I've loved him for quite some time. He has only recently come to feel the same."
Geoffrey grunted softly. "Who can blame him?" He rose from the table, his tea grown cold and now forgotten. "I wish you all the best, Miss Matthews."
"Thank you, Mr. Starke."
He looked at her for several moments, dropped a few coins on the table, then turned and headed for the door.
Analisa stared after him, then quickly left the cafe. She had one more stop to make before she returned home. She glanced at the sky. She would have to hurry, she thought; the sun would be setting soon.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-five
Analisa felt a growing sense of apprehension as the carriage left the city behind. A thick fog covered the coach and spread out over the countryside like a dark shroud. Shivering, she drew the lap robe across her legs.
It would be full dark soon.
She glanced at Mrs. Thornfield. The other woman was staring out the window, her face pale, her brow furrowed.
Analisa heard the crack of the whip, felt the coach lurch forward as the horses increased their pace. Home, Analisa thought; soon they would be home. She smiled, thinking of the elegant dressing gown she had bought for Alesandro. It was blue, the same deep indigo blue as his eyes.
She was picturing how handsome Alesandro would look in it later that night when she heard a hoarse cry from the top of the carriage. Frowning, she peered out the window, screamed as Farleigh's body plunged over the side of the coach.
Analisa looked at Mrs. Thornfield. "What's happening?"
Mrs. Thornfield shook her head, her eyes wide. "Highwaymen, perhaps," she replied. "Just give them whatever they ask for."
Analisa clasped her hands in her lap. Farleigh was dead. She was sure of it. The thought filled her with pain, and fear for her own life and that of Mrs. Thornfield. It was not unusual for carriages to be robbed. She had never worried about it when she was with Alesandro, knowing that he would protect her. She wished suddenly that he was there now. He would know what to do.
She glanced out the window again, but there was nothing to see. Whatever lay beyond the coach had been swallowed up in the thick gray mist.
She looked back at Mrs. Thornfield. "Why aren't we slowing down? Who's driving the horses?"
The housekeeper shook her head.
Analisa felt a growing sense of terror as the carriage continued at breakneck speed. This was no ordinary robbery, she was certain of that. And, judging by the expression on Mrs. Thornfield's face, she knew it, too.
The carriage turned off the main road and onto a narrow, rutted lane. Tall trees lined both sides. Leaning out the window, Analisa saw they were approaching a house made of stone. A house that seemed to have no windows.
Moments later, the carriage came to a halt in front of the house. Analisa was reaching for the carriage door when it opened, revealing a bulky man clad in a heavy cloak.
"Get out," he said, his voice gruff. "The master is waiting for you."
Frannie clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. She'd had little to do with the master of the house, and for that she was grateful beyond words. Seeing him now, his face dark with rage, his eyes blazing like the fires of hell, she hoped she would be as fortunate in the future.
"N-no, my lord, I… I haven't heard from Miss Analisa," she stammered. "She left this… this afternoon with… with Mrs. Thornfield. She… she said they would be home before dark."
Frannie watched
him pace the floor, his long strides carrying him swiftly, silently, from one end of the parlor to the other. There was something passing strange about Lord Alesandro de Avallone, she mused, though she could not have said why she thought so. Something about the way he moved, as if his feet didn't quite touch the floor. The light of the fire cast eerie shadows over his face and hair; for a moment, it looked as though he were drenched in blood.
He stopped abruptly, turned, and stared at her. It was a look that chilled her to the marrow of her bones.
She took a step backward, her hand going to her throat. "No—"
"Come to me, Frannie."
She tried to speak, tried to shake her head, tried to run from the room, but her feet refused to obey. She was horrified to find herself walking toward him. His gaze never strayed from her face. Try as she might, she could not draw her gaze from his.
And then she was standing before him. She cried out, her voice little more than a shrill squeak of terror as his arm slid around her waist. It was like being encased in iron. She thought she might melt from the intensity of his gaze.
"Do not be afraid," he said. "I will not hurt you."
She stared up at him, mesmerized by the slow seduction of his voice. She could hear the sound of her own heart beating wildly in her breast as he bent his head toward her. There was a sudden pain that was not quite pain just below her left ear. She felt herself being drawn into a swirling crimson vortex, and then she felt nothing at all.
Analisa stood beside Mrs. Thornfield, the older woman's hand clasped in her own as she glanced at her surroundings. They had been ushered into a large, well-furnished room that looked like any other room in any other well-kept house, except that it had no windows. A fire blazed merrily in the hearth. There were expensive paintings on the walls; a plush carpet covered the floor. A comfortable-looking sofa faced the hearth. A large mirror hung over the mantel.
She had tried the door as soon as they were left alone. It was locked, as she had known it would be, but she'd had to try.
"Where are we?" Analisa wondered aloud.
Mrs. Thornfield shook her head.
Midnight Embrace Page 21