Bound by Night

Page 11

When she unwrapped the silverware, she found a note, which read:
Elena, my sweet, the city awaits.
Be ready at sundown.
Your loving husband.
She ran her fingers over his bold signature. Your loving husband. If only it were true.
Shortly after sundown, Drake rapped on Tavian Dinescu’s front door. It was opened moments later by Dinescu himself.
“Yes?” Dinescu said gruffly. “How may I help you?”
Drake sketched a bow. “I’ve come to introduce myself,” he said formally. “I am Lord Drake of Wolfram Castle.”
Dinescu straightened slightly, impressed by Drake’s demeanor and title in spite of himself. “Please, won’t you come in?”
“No, thank you. I merely came to inform you that I have taken your niece, Elena, as my bride.”
Dinescu stared at him, mouth agape.
“I came here to set your mind at ease. She is quite well, and wishes to thank you for the years you supported her.”
Dinescu found his voice at last. “I’m glad to know she’s all right, but—Lord Wolfram, is it? Didn’t she tell you she was engaged to me?”
“I am aware you offered to marry her,” Drake replied with a wry grin. “However, since she is now my wife, I think we can assume that her answer was no.”
Dinescu’s eyes narrowed as an angry splash of red climbed up his throat and spread into his cheeks.
Gathering his preternatural power around him, Drake murmured, “Do not pursue the matter. I can assure you it will not end well if you do.”
Dinescu took a step backward under the weight of Drake’s steady gaze. Hands clenched tightly at his sides, he hissed, “What are you?”
“Your niece’s husband,” Drake replied mildly. “Good evening to you, sir.” Turning on his heel, Drake slid behind the wheel of the Porsche, keenly aware of Tavian Dinescu’s malevolent gaze on his back.
Elena stood in front of the wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. The gowns from Madame Raschelle were too fancy, jeans and a T-shirt not fancy enough. She settled on the light blue silk that Drake had given her.
Ears twitching, Smoke sat on the foot of the bed, watching through avid yellow eyes as she changed into clean underwear, then slipped the dress over her head. She packed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and a change of underwear in a small valise Drake had left for her, along with her nightgown and robe, her comb and brush and pins for her hair.
She was putting on her shoes when, with a flick of its tail, the cat jumped off the bed and left the room.
A moment later, Drake appeared in the doorway. Clad in gray trousers, a white shirt open at the collar, and a long black broadcloth coat, he looked every inch the lord of the manor.
She felt her cheeks grow warm under his blatant regard. “Good evening, my lord husband,” she murmured, mimicking the formal language he always used with her.
“Good evening, my lady wife. Do you still wish to visit the city?”
“Yes, very much. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“Not at all.” He tucked her valise under his arm, then held out his hand. “Let us be on our way.”
“How long will it take to get there?” Elena asked. They had been driving for perhaps an hour. Drake had said little in that time. To be fair, she hadn’t said much, either.
“Another hour,” he replied with a glance in her direction. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yes.” Enena watched the miles slip by. “Your cat is very strange,” she remarked a short time later. “Sometimes I think he understands every word I say.”
“I do not own a cat.”
“You don’t? Then who owns that big gray tom? He seems quite at home in the castle.” And in my bed, she thought ruefully.
“No one owns him,” Drake said. “He comes and goes as he pleases.”
“He brought me a dead rat the other day.”
Drake laughed softly. “Indeed?”
“It’s not funny! It was disgusting.”
“He has never brought a rat into the castle before.”
“It was probably my fault,” she admitted. “I told him to go out and earn his keep.”
“You know what they say,” Drake said, grinning at her. “Be wary what you ask for lest you get it.”
She glared at him, then burst out laughing. A warm glow suffused her when his laughter mingled with hers.
She was still smiling when the faint glow of streetlights came into view.
Drake pulled up in front of a large hotel with an old-fashioned ambiance. After turning off the engine, he got out of the car, then came around to open her door for her. Taking her by the hand, he ushered her into the hotel. After securing a room, he asked if she was ready to dine, and when she said yes, he escorted her into the hotel’s elegant restaurant.
It was quite the loveliest place she had ever seen. The lighting was subdued, the walls papered with an elegant rose and cream stripe. The tables were laid with rosecolored damask threaded with gold, gleaming silverware, and crystal goblets. She looked at Drake, her brows raised, when all he ordered for dinner was a glass of red wine.
“Don’t tell me you’ve already eaten?” Elena said, disappointment in her tone. “I know you like to eat alone, but I thought you might make an exception tonight.”
“Sorry, sweet wife, but do not let my abstinence spoil your supper. I am told the cuisine here is quite good.”
The roast, country potatoes, green beans, and bread looked good, smelled wonderful, and tasted even better, but when she offered Drake a bite of roast dipped in gravy, he refused.
“I don’t understand why you won’t eat with me,” she said with a pout. “Are you embarrassed by your table manners or something?”
“Yes,” he said with a wry grin. “Something like that.”
She made a face at him. “I don’t believe you.” He was so polished in every other regard. His clothing was always impeccable, his speech refined. She decided then and there that, one way or another, she would discover what he was hiding.
After dinner, he took her walking down Republicii Street, which was lined with quaint storefronts reminiscent of days gone by. Most of the smaller shops were closed for the evening, but a few of the larger ones remained open. They passed stores that sold clothes, books, souvenirs, jewelry, electrical appliances, and even art, as well as cafés and restaurants. No cars were allowed here, which made it ideal for an after-dinner stroll.
Elena was treated to more evidence of Drake’s generosity when he insisted on buying her another new dress—this one the color of a ripe plum. He also bought her a pink sweater, a pair of shoes, and a fur-lined jacket, and instructed the clerk to send it all to the hotel.
“Is there anything else you would like?” he asked as they continued down the street.
“I need a mirror. I can’t believe you don’t have any in the castle.”
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard him swear softly. And then he smiled at her. “Of course.”
He bought her a full-length, antique, stand-up mirror framed in polished mahogany. When she protested, insisting it was too costly, he silenced her by saying, “Consider it my wedding gift.”
She could hardly argue with that.
After leaving the shop, he asked if she was tired. Elena shook her head. She felt as if she could walk for miles. It felt good to stretch her legs, to feel the breeze on her face. To feel Drake’s hand holding hers.
They crossed the street at the corner and walked back toward the hotel. Elena paused to peer in the window of an old-fashioned tea shop, charmed by the unusual teapots and cups, the old-fashioned tins of tea. Moving on, they passed a bridal shop, several restaurants, and an ice-cream parlor.
A narrow alley took them away from the city. There were no lights here. Elena clung to Drake’s arm, visions of muggers racing to the forefront of her mind.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, glancing nervously from side to side.
Drake quietly cursed himself. What was he thinking, bringing her here? His only excuse was the scent of prey being carried to him on an errant breeze. It quickened his hunger, made his fangs ache with need. But he couldn’t hunt now, not with Elena on his arm.
An abrupt turn and he headed back toward the hotel.
“But I’m not ready to go to bed,” she protested as he escorted her up to their room. “I’d like some dessert and a cup of coffee.”
“I need to go out.”
“Where are you going at this hour?” she asked, glancing at her watch. “Why can’t I come with you?”
The lie came quickly to his lips. “I’m going to one of the clubs.”
“What kind of club?” she asked suspiciously.
“A casino.”
“Why can’t I go? I’ve never been to a casino.”
“Stay here and behave yourself. I won’t be gone long.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Elena stared after him. He was lying, but why? Was the truth so horrible? Before she could change her mind, she followed him down the stairs, determined to find out where he was going.
She hadn’t expected it to be so easy to follow him, had been certain that, within minutes, he would discover she was behind him and send her back to the hotel. But he appeared to be lost in thought as he walked quickly down the street, his hands shoved into his pockets. She trailed behind him, her gaze darting right and left. What was she doing, following him down dark streets in a strange city? Sometimes it seemed as if he wasn’t real. His black attire made it easy to believe he was a part of the night, like the darkness and the shadows and the mare’s tail clouds drifting across the moon.
Ahead, Drake turned right, into a park. What was he going to do there at this time of night? Was he meeting someone? But who? A woman? The thought of Drake with another woman hurt more than she would have believed possible. Still, she had no one to blame but herself. She had told him she wanted a marriage in name only, certain, at the time, that she meant it. But that had been before the wedding. And even though it was just a sham, she was his wife and he was her husband.