Night's Touch

Chapter 39

When they reached Cara's house, Vince paid the limo driver, then lifted his bride into his arms and carried her up the walkway. The door opened at his command and a fire sprang to life in the hearth.
Cara's breath whispered against his neck as she murmured, "Oh, my."
"Better than witchcraft," Vince said, smiling down at her.
She nodded. "It's a little scary, finding out all the supernatural things you can do."
"There's nothing for you to be afraid of," he murmured. "Nothing at all."
He carried her into the bedroom and eased her to the floor. Someone, Brenna he supposed, had been to the house earlier. The new sheets Cara had bought were on the bed, the covers already turned down. A bottle of red wine and two glasses waited for them on the bedside table. A crystal vase held a bouquet of long-stemmed white roses; a basket of fruit sat on the dresser.
He saw it all in a glance, but it was Cara who held his gaze. How was it possible for her to grow more lovely every time he looked at her? He removed her veil and tossed it over a chair, then drew her into his arms, one hand reaching behind her to unfasten her gown. She stepped out of it and he tossed it aside as well, then he took a step back so he could look at her.
Cara blushed beneath his heated gaze. True, they had made love before, but he had never looked at her quite like this, and they hadn't been married at the time. For some reason, it made her suddenly shy to stand there wearing nothing but her bra, panty hose, and heels.
Vince whistled softly. "You're the prettiest, sexiest thing I've ever seen."
"And you," she said, "are overdressed."
"Well, if you don't like it, you know what to do."
He didn't have to tell her twice. In minutes, his coat, cummerbund, tie, shirt, and trousers were on the floor, leaving him attired in a T-shirt, briefs, and his shoes and socks.
Vince looked down at himself and grimaced. "I look pretty silly."
"Well, the shoes have to go," she said.
"Right." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his shoes and socks. "Come here."
She moved toward him and he removed her heels, then slowly peeled off her panty hose. Her bra came next, then his T-shirt.
Cara watched him, her body trembling with anticipation as he tossed his briefs aside, then drew her down on the bed beside him, their bodies Fitting together perfectly, like two halves of a whole.
She felt like purring as his callused hands moved over her willing flesh, stroking, teasing, arousing her until she thought she'd go mad with wanting him. She slid her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, loving the way his muscles quivered at her touch. It was a heady sensation, knowing that her touch aroused him as much as his aroused her.
Raking her nails down his back, she murmured, "Now, Vince!" She sighed with pleasure as he rose over her, his body melding with hers, easing into a slow, steady rhythm that made her cry out, her hands clutching his shoulders, her body arching beneath him, until that one beautiful moment when she couldn't tell where he ended and she began. It was like flying through a rainbow, drowning in waves of ecstasy...
As from far away, she heard Vince's voice, filled with soft entreaty. "Let me taste you."
For a moment, she didn't know what he meant, and then she felt his tongue lave the side of her neck.
"Please?" His voice was rough, filled with longing.
"I'm afraid."
"I won't hurt you, I swear it."
She loved him with all her heart, how could she refuse him anything? How could she agree?
"Never mind," he said quietly.
Guilt washed over her. "It's all right."
"Are you sure, darlin'?" His breath was warm against her neck. She could feel the tension in his body, hear the need in his voice.
"I'm sure," she said, and closed her eyes.
He kissed her, long and slow, his hand gliding up and down her thigh, gentling her, she thought. She stilled as his tongue warmed the skin below her ear, felt a tiny prick as his fangs pierced her flesh. She had expected to feel horror and revulsion; instead, she felt only a kind of sensual pleasure that was over too soon.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked.
Cara's eyelids fluttered open. "No," she murmured. "It felt wonderful. Can we do it again?"
Clad in a pair of jeans, Vince sat on the porch stairs, gazing up at the stars. He had left his bride asleep in her bed after making love to her one more time. Never in his life had he felt so at peace. Cara was his for as long as she lived. Perhaps, in time, he would be able to convince her to accept the Dark Gift. He could think of nothing better than spending the rest of his existence, however long that might be, with her at his side. He would spend this night here, with his bride, though it made him uneasy. He didn't like being vulnerable while he slept and there was no way to secure her house against intruders. Starting next week, he would take his rest at the garage until they found a house of their own, and then he would take the necessary precautions to protect his new lair.
A stir in the air brought his senses to immediate alert. A moment later, Mara materialized at his side.
Moonlight haloed her long black hair; her full-length gown, also black, outlined every curve. Once, he had thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but that had been before Cara entered his life.
"Good evening," she murmured.
"Hey."
"Lovely night for a hunt, don't you think?"
"Not tonight."
"No?"
Vince shook his head.
"Why is that?" Sitting down, Mara spread her skirts around her, like the petals of an ebony rose. "Your little mortal is asleep. She won't even know you're gone."
"It's my wedding night," Vince said with a smile. "How would it look if I went off with another woman?"
"You married her?" Mara exclaimed.
"Yep."
"Unless you bring her across, she'll just die and leave you."
"Is that why you never married?" Vince asked. "Because he'd leave you?"
She sighed softly. "I lied to you before. I did marry once, many years ago. I knew I would regret it, but I loved him and he refused to bed me without the blessing of the church." She laughed softly. "Truly, a man unique among men."
"Were you happy together?"
"Yes, for many years, until he began to grow old and I did not, until he began to hate me. The older he got, the stronger his hatred became, until it soured everything between us."
"What happened to him?"
"One night, as I held him in my arms, he drove a knife into my heart. Had it been a silver blade, I wouldn't be here now. When he realized he hadn't killed me, he ran out of the house. A passing carriage struck him and killed him instantly."
"I'm sorry, Mara."
"As I said, it was a long time ago." She looked at him, her eyes filled with pain. "You'd think it would have stopped hurting by now."
Uncertain of how she would react, Vince slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. She stiffened in his embrace, and then she relaxed. It took him a moment to realize she was crying. Two large teardrops slid down her cheeks like crimson rain. Vince captured them on the tip of his finger and carried them to his mouth. It was like tasting liquid fire.
Turning her head, Mara kissed him on the cheek. "I hope you will be happy," she said, and vanished from his sight.
No sooner had she gone than he heard the door open behind him and Cara stepped out onto the porch.
"Vince?"
"I'm here, darlin'."
"I thought I heard voices."
Rising, he kissed her on the cheek. "There's no one here but me," he said, and taking her by the hand, he
led her inside and locked the door behind him.
The next week was the most wonderful of Cara's life. She took a week off from work and Vince closed his shop. They stayed up late and slept late. He reached for her when he woke up and they made love late in the morning.
He read the paper while she ate breakfast and then they made love again; she went shopping or cleaned house or took a nap while he took his rest. At night, they went to the movies or for walks, stayed home and watched TV, or just went to bed early. She never tired of touching him, watching him, or being near him.
They spent Christmas Eve widi her parents. Cara ate dinner before leaving the house. They spent a pleasant few hours with her mom and dad. After they opened their presents, they shared their favorite Christmas memories.
Later, back at home, Vince and Cara sat in front of the fireplace, sharing a glass of red wine while they admired the lights on the tree. Christmas carols played softly in the background.
They spent Christmas morning in bed, making love. Later, while Cara made herself something to eat, Vince called his folks to wish them a merry Christmas.
Cara was putting the dishes in the dishwasher when Vince came up behind her. "Close your eyes," he said.
"Why?"
"Just do it, darlin'," he said, and when her eyes were closed, he slipped a gold bracelet onto her wrist.
"Okay, you can open them now."
"Oh, Vince," she cried, "it's lovely!"
"Just a little something I thought you might like. Merry Christmas, darlin'."
"Merry Christmas."
"Don't I get a kiss?" he asked.
"Oh, yes!"
It was the best kind of kiss, one that led them back into the bedroom, and back to bed.
Life would have been perfect, Cara thought a few days later, except for her constant bouts of nausea in the morning. She didn't mention it to Vince or her parents, didn't want to think what it might mean. Had Vince been mortal, she would have thought she was pregnant, but such a thing was impossible. She couldn't help thinking of all the horrible possibilities, all of them fatal, but if she was dying, she didn't want to know.
She managed to hide her illness from Vince until he rose unusually early one morning and caught her vomiting in the bathroom.
He quickly wet a cloth and handed it to her, his brow furrowed with concern. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing," she lied as she wiped her mouth.
"Did you eat something that didn't agree with you?"
She shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know. I'm fine now."
Lifting her to her feet, he gazed into her eyes. "Has this happened before?"
Her gaze slid away from his. "No."
"Cara, don't lie to me."
She looked up at him, her eyes welling with tears. "Every morning this past week. Oh, Vince, I'm so afraid!"
"Shh, there's nothing to be afraid of," he said, drawing her into his arms. "It's probably just the flu or a bug of some kind."
She sniffed. "But I don't feel like I've got the flu. I don't have a fever..."
"Have you called the doctor?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid of doctors. They never give you anything but bad news."
"Well, we're calling one now."
She tried to change his mind, but he was adamant, and because she refused to call, he made the appointment for her.
"Four o'clock tomorrow," he told her, "and I don't want any excuses. It's Monday, and you don't have to go to work." He took her chin in his hand. "And don't think about missing it. If I have to, I'll make the appointment for later in the day and I'll take you myself."
"You can't go out during the day," she retorted, "and they close at five, so you can't make me go."
"Then I'll just have to suffer the consequences, won't I?" The thought of Vince going outdoors when the sun was up was enough to insure that she would keep her appointment.
The next day, at five after four, Cara pulled into the parking lot at her doctor's office. She was sitting in the car, gathering her courage, when she happened to look in the rearview mirror. A cold chill ran down her spine when she saw a car pass slowly behind her, a car driven by a woman that looked vaguely familiar. It took Cara a moment to place her and when she did, she jumped out of the car and ran into the doctor's office. The driver had been one of the gray-clad women she had seen before.
"Miss, are you all right?"
Cara looked up to find the receptionist staring at her. "What?"
"Are you all right? You look like you're going to faint."
"No, I'm fine." She took the papers the receptionist handed her, willed her hand to stop shaking as she filled out the necessary forms. In spite of her promise to Vince, she was sorely tempted to leave without
seeing the doctor, and only the thought of the pain he would endure if he carried out his threat to bring her here himself kept her from running out of the building-that and the fear that someone might be waiting for her in the parking lot.
Fifteen minuets later, she was wearing a paper gown and seated on an examining table. A nurse recorded her weight and took her blood pressure, and then the doctor came in. He looked at her chart, listened to her symptoms, and concluded that she was pregnant.
Cara shook her head. "I can't be."
"You're a married woman," the doctor said, referring to her chart. "Is your husband impotent?"
"No," Cara said quickly, and felt her cheeks burn at her enthusiastic reply.
"Then I assume you have relations with your husband?"
"Yes, but..."
He asked her a few more questions, like the date of her last period and other intimate details, and then he examined her.
Forty minutes later, Cara left the office, wondering how she was going to tell Vince he was going to be a father and wondering how she would ever convince him that the baby was his.