Blood Marriage (49 page)

She gave him a watery smile. "I think I've been letting you make me fully yours since our wedding night, and you've been doing an impressive job of it."

He grinned against her mouth. 

She moved beneath him in slow, undulating invitation. He put one hand to her hip, holding her still, allowing himself the pleasure of her smooth, lush warmth, but no more. She mewed in protest, trying to arch against him, but he held her in place, still, beneath him. It would be so easy to get lost in the sweet heaven of her body. But his need for her went beyond that.

"I've tasted your blood twice,
mea amor
. Allow me to taste you a third time. Let me give you life and health, Elizabeth. I can heal you as my clan has so many others, without making you vampire. Or..."

He felt her joy turn to fear as clearly as if the she had turned to stone in his arms. "Or?" she asked.

"Or that third bite could make you half-vampire, like me. Either way, there is no going back. I cannot do the treatment twice. If I heal you, I cannot later make you vampire. The changes I will have wrought in your body will not allow it. If I make you vampire--"

"Half," Elizabeth interjected, a quiver in her voice. 

"Half," Nicholas agreed. 

Her body trembled against his. 

"If I make you half-vampire tonight," he said, "you cannot go back."

"I would crave blood and prey on other people?" Her trembling increased until she was shaking. Goose bumps rose on the smooth skin beneath his hand.

Nicholas's heart clenched. She hadn't refused. Not yet. But it was there in her eyes. Fear. He sighed and started to pull away. 

Her hands splayed across his spine, pulling him back. He nipped down the line of her neck and she gasped, her pulse throbbing with such intensity beneath his tongue that even without breaking the skin he could taste the erotic cocktail of sensual anticipation and primal fear. A ghost of the madness he'd felt on their wedding night threatened to possess him. He drove it away with a dozen memories: Elizabeth laughing and serious, strong and trusting. He pulled away once again, adjusting his position so that he lay on his side next to her, propped on one elbow. Allowing the silence to lengthen between them, he grazed his fingers gently over her, exploring her breasts and belly, hips and legs. His fingers touched lightly on the healing puncture wounds where her leg and hip joined.

He could take her easily enough, ignore her right to choose. He had the strength to force her to endure his bite. He had done so once before, to save her life beneath the oak. She would be angry, feel betrayed, but she would live. And he'd have a lifetime to make it up to her. He could force her.

But he wouldn't. 

Whether she stayed with him, and how she stayed, must be a decision made of her own free will. Otherwise, it would haunt them both. 

He shouldn't seduce an answer out of her either, but that bit of gallantry would be considerably harder to achieve. He stilled his fingers, which had been playing in tiny swirling circles up her womanly curves. He would give her the truth, and time. 

But not too much time. 

"You would crave blood," he conceded, not meeting her eyes, afraid if he saw rejection there he might not have the courage to respect her choice. "But that is not something to fear. And we do not prey on people. At least my clan does not. We are healers. We pay for the blood we consume with the gift of life. It's not an evil thing, Elizabeth, to restore health and life and hope where before only sickness, death, and despair existed. And though we could feed frequently, we don't. Not unless there are many who need us."

"Would I die?" She shivered. 

Reluctantly he reached for the bed covers, pulling them up to cover her, but he was unable to resist letting his knuckle skim one pink nipple along the way. He pressed his warmth closer to her and slipped his hand beneath the covers. His fingers trailed down her side and over her hip. He let the palm of his hand cup the two sets of wounds he'd made on her in the short time since their marriage.

"Vampires are not immortal, my love -- not the true ones, anyway. But their life spans are longer. They age so slowly that they seem immortal to others."

"I meant would I have to die to become like you...a vampire?"

"No. You will not die and be resurrected as a vampire. That is how the
diavol varcolac
, the evil undead, are created. If I infect you, it will be more like catching the flu, permanently. Except instead of making you sick, it means you will never be sick. It also means I need never again feel the terror I felt when Lucy had you in her grasp."

"The same terror I knew when that stake entered your heart," she whispered, pressing her hand to the now unblemished skin of his chest.

"Yes." He captured her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingertips one after the other, then nipping gently at the pulse on the inside of her wrist and breathing in the sweet scent there. "I would know that just as I have come back to you tonight from the very edge of death, so you would always come back to me as well."

Elizabeth was quiet. Beneath the warmth of the covers, she still shook slightly. Fresh tears swam in her eyes and sparkled against her lashes. The image of her face, frozen in terror in that moment on the moss beneath the oak tree when she'd first seen the truth of who he was and known what he was about to do to her, flashed in his mind. Fear gripped his heart. Would she refuse his bite entirely? Not even allow him to heal her? What if she chose, as his mother had, death over what he could offer?

He'd promised himself he'd respect whatever decision she made. But he'd made no vows not to plead his case, not to work hard to influence that decision. His eyes locked with hers, trying to read what was in her heart. Deep emotion clouded their violet depths, but what it was, how she felt, he couldn't tell.

"Please don't leave me, Elizabeth. I love you." He covered her mouth with his.

The tears that had been brimming in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. Their wet warmth dampened his chin. He released her mouth and pushed up on his arms, arching his back.

"Please, Elizabeth."

She drew one of her legs up the length of his until her thigh rested against his hip. Then she raised her arms, tangling her fingers in his hair, drawing him down until his lips hovered just inches above hers. Her eyes held his. 

"How could you think I would leave you if there was any way to stay?" she asked, her voice whisper-soft with reproach. "There've been too many good-byes in my life already. I couldn't bear another. I love you, Nicholas Devlin, and I want to spend a lifetime with you."

"A vampire lifetime?"

"Any lifetime."

Chapter Fifty

Encircled by lush green forest and domed by a clear blue sky, the Devlin family graveyard was surprisingly charming. At least by daylight. Centuries old crypts, built half above and half below ground, dotted the close-cropped lawn like storybook houses, each reflecting the architectural preferences of its era. Neatly kept footpaths of white pebblestone wound between them like little roads, creating the impression of a village in miniature -- if one ignored the gravestones scattered here and there along the way.

Elizabeth flinched as the first shovelful of dirt hit the top of the cherub-etched coffin, her mother's coffin. Vlad closed his book and placed a fatherly arm around her shoulders. Elizabeth smiled her gratitude at the old priest, noting the lines of exhaustion fanning out from his eyes and etching his brow. If he'd seemed older than his years when first she'd met him, the last few days had only added to that impression, transforming him from an old man into an ancient one. His beard seemed whiter, the furrows in his face deeper. His movements remained limber and graceful, but somehow they'd become more studied, more somber.

And no wonder. While she and Nicholas had slept yesterday away, Vlad had been putting things to rights.

Word had spread quickly that the runners had solved the case. The murders had been the work of a madwoman, one of the Duke of Marlbourne's house guests. None of the residents of Heaven's Edge had been involved and the murderess had died avoiding capture. Feeling safe again, the servants had returned as quickly as they'd left. Vlad had welcomed them back with open arms and long lists of tasks left undone in their absence.

When Doctor Bergen and Lennie had fetched Leo home from the vicar's house, bringing Margaret and Katie back as well, Vlad had been the one to see to Leo's comfort and care. When Fielding had announced that he and Lennie would be returning to London following the private burial this morning and the duke had insisted they take his best traveling coach -- the one denied the Glenburys -- Vlad had seen to it that Cook packed a generous hamper for their meals and the footmen loaded their baggage with care. 

Those were tasks the old priest had done by the light of day. 

During the hours of darkness he'd gone with the other men to Maidenstone. They'd gathered the ashes from the funeral pyre and placed them in the cherub-etched coffin. Then they'd come here to the Devlin family cemetery, dug a single grave, and erected eight headstones in a circle around it -- one for each woman whose body burned in the flames. 

To avoid gossip, all had been done without the knowledge or help of the servants. Even now, though the duke's large traveling coach and four strong horses stood at the edge of the graveyard ready, the coachman who would drive it to London waited at Maidenstone. 

Marlbourne wanted no witnesses. 

Perhaps future generations would look at the circle of headstones and wonder who these women had been and why the graves were set in such an unusual arrangement. But they'd have no reason to suspect those named on the headstones were buried, not in a sunburst pattern as the headstones made it appear, but in a single grave at the circle's center.

Elizabeth no longer flinched as shovel after shovel of dirt struck the coffin. Lennie, Fielding, Nicholas, and Sebastian stood inside the circle of headstones, working at a quick yet respectful pace. Leo, still recuperating, sat in a chair nearby. Marlbourne stood beside Leo's chair, his injured arm nestled in a silk sling. 

Several yards away the carriage horses stomped and snorted. A pair of their flashy brethren, hitched to the landau that Elizabeth, Nicholas and Marlbourne would return home in, neighed in response. Princess, who'd been left un-tethered, meandered along the side of the road searching for clumps of grass, her little trap rattling behind her. 

Out in the forest birds called and leaves whispered. The mid-morning sun poured warmth from the perfect blue sky and the gleaming coffin disappeared beneath the chocolate earth. Gradually the harsh sound of dirt striking oak was replaced by the muted thud of dirt falling on dirt. 

Vlad sighed. Princess lifted her head from the grass and looked at her master. Elizabeth looked at him as well. Compassion tugged at her heart. He could not have slept much in the two days since Lucy had been vanquished, not with all the tasks that had demanded his attention. And yet as tired as he must be, he'd delivered a serene and eloquent eulogy for the victims of the
diavols
-- one of whom had been the sister he'd loved so dearly and killed all those years ago. 

Elizabeth put the palm of her hand against the old man's cheek and drew him close, placing a gentle kiss just above the line of his beard. 

"Take Princess and go home, Vlad. Rest," she said. "It's over, and everyone," she looked down into the grave that held Lucretia and the women, then at the duke, and finally directly into Vlad's weary eyes, "
everyone
is forgiven."

Vlad nodded, but made no move to leave.

Together they stood in silence outside the circle of headstones, watching until the last shovel full of dirt had been added to the grave. The men stepped back. 

The duke helped Leo stand. All heads bowed. Vlad said a final prayer and then began taking his leave of the departing guests, embracing the doctor in an especially hearty hug. To Elizabeth's surprise, Sebastian returned the embrace without a trace of his usual mockery.

Lennie gathered the shovels and went to tuck them into the boot of the landau. The duke picked up Leo's chair with his good arm and followed Lennie, stopping to scratch Princess's pretty snout as he passed her. Nicholas kissed Elizabeth's temple and his eyes scanned her face as if reassuring himself she was all right. He glanced over at the new grave.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save her, Elizabeth." His voice was tender with regret -- regret that her mother's cancer had been so far advanced, her condition so weakened, that she would not have survived even one healing bite, let alone three. "I wish--"

Elizabeth covered his mouth with her fingertips and rose on her toes to brush her lips to his. Then he and Vlad assisted Leo to the waiting carriage.

Nicholas had been adamant Leo stay and recover completely before attempting the trip to London. But Leo was anxious to see Amanda. He'd stubbornly insisted on returning to the city with the runners. Marlbourne's traveling coach could carry six in easy comfort and Doctor Bergen had announced his intention to accompany Leo home and impose on his hospitality for a while. That had satisfied Nicholas somewhat. Though it hadn't stopped him from treating his friend like an invalid. 

Leo batted Nicholas's hand away in good-natured indignation when he tried to steady him across a patch of rough ground. He gave it an even stronger swat when Nicholas would have helped him up the carriage steps and into the vehicle. Once seated in the carriage though, Leo opened the window and Nicholas leaned against the side of the vehicle, the two men talking with the natural ease of lifelong friendship. 

Vlad was fussing over Princess's harness, checking and rechecking its comfort. Only Bergen and Fielding remained at the graveside with Elizabeth. They stood in silence staring at the earth mounded at the center of the eight headstones.

Finally satisfied Princess was comfortable, Vlad climbed into the trap and clucked his tongue, turning her onto the road leading out of the cemetery. The little pony trotted smartly past the plain landau horses, but slowed as she came alongside the matched chestnuts standing ready before the traveling carriage. She tossed her blonde mane, flicked her tail, and raised her head higher. All four of the carriage horses turned their heads to watch her prance past. Nicholas and Leo paused in their conversation as well, grinning at the little horse.