Midnight Embrace

Chapter Twenty-three

She woke early the following afternoon after a night spent tossing and turning. When she had finally slept, her dreams had been dark, fragmented, filled with blood-red eyes and dripping fangs, of a child's arms reaching out to her, of an empty crypt and a round stone cottage. She had awakened once, just before dawn, certain she heard a wolf howling out in the gardens. The sound, so lost, so lonely, had sent a shiver down her spine.
Now, in the light of day, she knew it had only been a dog barking. There were no wolves in the city.
She rang for Frannie, hoping she'd feel better after her cocoa and a hot bath.
The maid arrived a few minutes later bearing her chocolate. Dewhurst filled the tub, and while Analisa bathed, Frannie laid out her clothing for the day. Sensing Analisa's pensive mood, the maid said little as she helped Analisa dress, then brushed her hair.
"Will that be all, miss?" Frannie asked.
Analisa regarded herself in the mirror. Frannie had arranged her hair in a neat chignon at her nape. It made her look older, more mature. Would Alesandro think so? Would she even see him tonight? Would she ever see him again? Whatever had possessed her to talk to him the way she had last night?
Oh, but he made her so mad, always trying to be so noble, to do what he thought was best for her. And even if leaving him wasbest for her, she didn't care. Alesandro might have centuries, but she didn't. Life was too short to spend even a year without him.
Despite all that was on her mind, the day passed surprisingly fast. She spent an hour reading and another hour working on her penmanship. She went out and walked through the gardens, spent a quiet few minutes in the arbor watching a bird build a nest in a tree.
She went in for lunch, worked on her needlepoint, and then took a nap. She rang for Frannie when she woke, picked out the gown she would wear that evening, had the maid touch up her hair.
Sitting at the dinner table, she grew increasingly tense, waiting, wondering if Alesandro would appear, or if he would again avoid her, as he had in the past.
After dinner, she went into the parlor and sat in front of the hearth, trying to decide what she would do if Alesandro sent her away.
Her options were much more promising now than when she first arrived. She could read and write, she knew proper etiquette, her table manners weremore refined. She might be able to find a position as a governess, or, at the least, a lady's maid.
Or she could accept Mr. Starke's marriage proposal...
She stared into the flames. Mrs. Geoffrey Starke. She could do worse, she thought. He was a handsome man with pleasant manners and a lovely home. As his wife, she would want for nothing.
She looked up as Mrs. Thornfield entered the room.
"Can I get you anything, miss?" the housekeeper asked. "Cook made a lovely trifle. Perhaps you'd like some with a nice hot cup of tea?"
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Thornfield, that would be wonderful."
With a smile, the housekeeper started toward the door, then paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Is everything all right, miss?"
"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"
"You've fallen in love with him, haven't you?"
She didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Yes, I have. Does it show?"
The housekeeper nodded. "I recognize the signs."
Analisa studied the other woman for a moment, then murmured, "Oh, my," at the expression in the older woman's eyes. "You love him, too, don't you?"
Mrs. Thornfield nodded. "Yes."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know - "
"How could you?"
Analisa looked at the housekeeper as if seeing her for the first time. She must have been beautiful once, she thought, for she was still an attractive women in spite of her years and the gray in her hair.
"How long have you been with him?" she asked.
"Forty-seven years."
Analisa knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. "How old were you when you met him?"
"I had just turned seventeen."
"But that would make you - "
"Sixty-four on my last birthday."
"But..." Analisa would have guessed the housekeeper to be in her early forties.
"But I look younger. Yes, I know." She lifted a hand to her neck in a gesture that Analisa knew she herself had made on more than one occasion. "When I was younger, there were times when I provided Lord Alesandro with what he needed. And once, when I was very ill, he saved my life, much as he saved yours."
"And that's why you - "
"Yes. Whatever it is in his blood that makes him what he is also has the power to slow the aging process in mortals."
"That's... I don't know... incredible."
"Yes, but true, nonetheless."
"And you've kept his secret all these years."
"Of course," the housekeeper replied softly. She lifted her head, looking past Analisa toward the door. "Good evening, my lord."
Now that she knew, now that she was looking for it, Analisa wondered how she had ever missed the tenderness in the housekeeper's eyes when she looked at Alesandro.
"I'll bring your tea directly," Mrs. Thornfield told Analisa, and left the room.
Heart pounding, Analisa waited for Alesandro to join her on the sofa. As always, he moved soundlessly, appearing on the sofa beside her almost as if by magic. He wore a white shirt, open at the throat, buff-colored breeches, and calfskin boots.
He looked at her, one brow raised inquisitively. "What is it?"
"I wasn't sure I would see you tonight, my lord."
He grunted softly. "Something troubles you. What is it?"
"I... nothing."
"Tell me, 'Lisa."
"Mrs. Thornfield, she said... I didn't know that... I mean that you and she were..."
"Ah. She told you, did she?"
Analisa nodded. "She must love you very much."
"She did." He grunted softly. "1 suppose she still does."
"Did you love her, too?"
"No. When I learned of her feelings, I intended to dismiss her from my service, but she begged to stay. She has been a loyal and trusted servant for many years."
"Forty-seven," Analisa murmured. She bit down on her lip, feeling suddenly self-conscious when the housekeeper returned with her tea and a bowl of trifle. Had Mrs. Thornfield overheard them discussing her?
"Would you care for a glass of wine, my lord?" the housekeeper asked, and there was nothing in her expression or her manner to betray her feelings.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Thornfield."
"Will you be wanting anything else this evening, miss?"
Analisa shook her head.
"Very well, I shall bid you both a good night, then."
"Good night," Analisa said. She stared after the housekeeper, thinking how awful it must be for her to have loved Alesandro for so long, to live in his house knowing he did not return her affection. And yet, how much worse to leave and never see him again.
Her hand was trembling when she picked up her teacup. She sipped slowly, her thoughts in turmoil.
Alesandro stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. "You gave me a rather stern ultimatum last night."
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as she set the cup on the saucer.
"You want to stay here, with me?"
"Yes."
"You are sure this is what you want?"
"Yes, my lord."
"You say you are not afraid of me, of what I am."
His words, casually spoken, filled her with a sudden sense of unease. She met his gaze, waiting.
" 'Lisa?"
"I'm not afraid of you."
"We shall see."
Her heart slammed against her chest. "What do you mean?"
"We shall put it to the test, my sweet Analisa."
She looked up at him, her mouth suddenly dry, her palms damp. "And if I fail?"
"If you fail, you will no doubt be gone from my house by tomorrow."
Her heart was pounding so hard, so fast, she thought she might faint. She had seen him when he was wounded and in need of blood. Surely nothing could be more frightening than that.
"I thought I heard a wolf last night," she said, and wondered what had prompted her remark.
"Indeed?"
"It was you, wasn't it?" She waited, hoping he would deny it, knowing he would not.
He sat beside her, vampire still, his dark eyes watching her.
"The paintings in your bedroom at Blackbriar and at the Manor, they're you, too, aren't they? Both man and wolf."
Still he said nothing, only continued to watch her out of fathomless indigo eyes.
She swallowed, her hands worrying a fold in her skirt. "The night I came here, a wolf ran alongside the carriage. I thought I imagined it, but I didn't, did I? It was you."
He rose in a single fluid motion, moved several paces away, and faced her. A dark aura seemed to surround him. His eyes darkened, his body shimmered, blurred, and a wolf stood before her. A large black wolf with indigo eyes.
She stared at him, a dozen thoughts tumbling through her mind. It was impossible. It was fantastic. How did he do it? Did it hurt? Would he understand her if she spoke to him? Were all vampires capable of shape shifting? What of Rodrigo?
She blinked, and Alesandro stood before her again.
"Lisa?"
"Yes, my lord?"
A faint smile lifted a corner of his mouth. "Are you going to faint?"
"I don't think so. Do all vampires have the power to change shape like that?"
"No." He sat down beside her once again, picked up her teacup, held it to her lips. "Drink this."
The tea had grown cold, but she did as he asked. Doing such a normal, everyday thing had a calming effect on her.
"Is that it?" she asked shakily. "Did I pass the test?"
"Nothing so simple as that, my sweet."
"What, then?" she said, her trepidation growing ever stronger. "Tell me."
"I want you to spend the night with me."
"That's all?"
He nodded, his expression solemn.
She stared at him, her mind racing. What could be so bad about spending the night with him?
"And the day," he said. "Until after sunrise."
And then she knew what he meant, knew what the test was.
He read the knowledge in her eyes.
"Not..." She bit down on her lower lip, knowing her words would be seen as a sign of weakness. "Not in the cottage?"
He shook his head. He would spare her that much, at least.
"When?"
"Tonight."
Spending the night with Alesandro. It seemed a simple thing, something she had yearned to do. To fall asleep in his arms after making love. And they would make love tonight. She knew it, felt it in every fiber of her being.
He blew out the lamps in the parlor, lifted her into his arms, and carried her swiftly up the stairs and down the long, dark corridor to his room. The door opened at his silent command and closed the same way. She heard the key turn in the lock; a moment later, a fire sprang to life in the hearth.
He was still holding her in his arms. Now he gazed down at her, his expression impassive. "If you wish to change your mind, you must say so now."
She shook her head.
Letting her body slide intimately down his own, he placed her on her feet, and then backed away from her. "I have instructed Mrs. Thornfield to unlock the door at half past eight tomorrow morning."
Analisa nodded.
"If you are gone when I rise in the evening, Mrs. Thornfield will contact you."
She started to ask how Mrs. Thornfield would know where to find her, then stayed her tongue. Alesandro had taken her blood. He would always be able to find her.
"You are certain you wish to do this, 'Lisa?"
"Yes."
"Then come to me, Analisa."
She had known, when they made love the first time, that her life would be irrevocably changed, but that paled in significance to this.
She moved slowly into his embrace, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears she was certain everyone within the walls of the house could hear it.
She gazed up into his eyes as he lowered his head toward hers, his lips claiming hers in a kiss that was at once achingly tender and violently possessive. His tongue plundered her mouth, his hands moved up and down her back, slid down to cup her buttocks and draw her close against him. He was fully aroused.
He carried her to the bed and lowered her onto the mattress, followed her down, his mouth never leaving hers. She clung to him, caught up in a maelstrom of yearning and desire, of overwhelming need to cradle him in her arms.
Their clothing disappeared as if by magic. Vampire magic. And then he was pressing her down onto the mattress.
His skin felt cool against the heat of her own, his hands urgent as they caressed her, arousing her until she moved restlessly beneath him.
"I love you." She whispered the words as his body slid into hers. She arched upward, wanting more of him, all of him.
He groaned softly. " 'Lisa, 'Lisa. Four hundred years I have waited for you."
"I'm here." She cupped his face in her hands.
His gaze burned into hers, hotter than the flames crackling in the hearth.
"Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me you love me."
"I love you." He moved deep within her. "I will always love you."
"And I you."
She saw the doubt in his eyes, the fear that she would not be strong enough to endure what was to come.
Her hands moved restlessly over his back and shoulders, sliding up and down his arms, reveling in the strength that trembled there.
"Don't think of it now, Alesandro."
His tongue laved her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Let me."
She closed her eyes and turned her head, felt his fangs at her throat. Pleasure and ecstasy mingled inside her. She felt what he felt as his body moved within hers, knew that for this small space of time, the beast within him lay quiet, sated by her blood and by the desire building, cresting, exploding in the deepest part of her.
A low growl rose in his throat as he thrust into her, and for a moment, just a moment, an image of the painting hanging over his bed at Blackbriar Hall flashed through her mind, the images of man and beast melding into one as Alesandro followed her over the edge of desire.
Afterward, feeling blissfully content, she lay in the circle of his arms, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her fingers playing in the thick black silk of his hair.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly.
"No, of course not." She smiled at him, her heart swelling with love and tenderness. Always, his first thought was for her. She looked at him, awed to be loved by such a man. A man who had lived over four hundred years, who could summon fire with a thought, who could crush her with a look. He had such strength, possessed powers she could not begin to imagine. Yet he held her gently in his arms and adored her with his eyes.
Lifting himself on one elbow, he gazed down at her, one brow arched. "What are you thinking about, 'Lisa?"
"Don't you know?"
He shook his head, his gaze intent upon her face.
"I thought you could read my mind."
"I do not make a habit of it."
She raked her fingernails lightly down his chest. "Afraid to know what I'm thinking?" she teased.
He nodded, his expression somber.
"Alesandro, I have nothing to hide from you, no secrets you cannot share. But something troubles you. I can see it in your eyes. You look so sad sometimes, so lost. Is there nothing I can do to help?"
He closed his eyes as if he were in pain, and then with a low groan he crushed her to him. He spoke to her in a language she did not understand, his voice low and ragged, filled with self-loathing.
As the words moved over her, her mind filled with images of Alesandro. He held nothing back. He showed her all the horror of his first days as a vampire. She felt the excruciating pain that engulfed him when he refused to satisfy his hunger, felt his agony when his sister went mad, his hurt and his rage when Rodrigo turned on him, his sadness when he left his home for the last time, never to return. She felt his isolation from the rest of the world, the loneliness that had been his companion over four centuries. And his need - she felt it in every part of her, the pain, the relentless need, and then the cessation of pain when at last he gave in to his thirst. It was a pleasure unlike anything she had ever experienced, as necessary to his survival as the air she breathed to live.
She felt the wetness of his tears on her cheek as he fell silent. She hugged him to her, one hand stroking his hair, until comfort became need and need became desire and they made love again, tenderly, so tenderly. The gentleness of his touch only made her love him more. Tears filled her eyes. Her heart swelled with love until she thought it might burst.
Held tightly in his arms, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the weariness that engulfed her.
Alesandro watched her all through the night, wondering if he would ever see her again, wondering what her reaction would be when she woke beside a body that was virtually lifeless.
He smelled the dawn, knew the sun was rising. His body grew heavy, his mind sluggish. He should have prepared her, he thought, warned her... too late now... too late...