Be Mine Tonight (24 page)

H
er funeral was two days later.

The day was bright and sunny, the kind of day between late summer and early autumn that was clear and crisp but still retained the sun’s warmth. It was the kind of day Pru had loved. The sun shone down upon the family crypt not far from the estate. The service had been held at the estate chapel, where every family funeral had been held since Rosecourt came into Thomas’s family.

There was a large crowd of mourners, as befitting a family such as the Rylands. People who hadn’t seen Prudence in months, or even years, came to pay their respects and partake of the refreshments served later at Rosecourt.

There were those who were sincere in their
sympathy and Thomas Ryland appreciated their kind words, even though he merely wanted to be left alone with his family. There were others—and there always were—who viewed the funeral as a social occasion, a time to catch up on gossip and comment on the fortunes, or misfortunes, of others. Those people wisely avoided Thomas and his family unless speaking was necessary.

Prudence had been sick so long, some of the more sincere of them said, it was a blessing that she was finally at rest. Yes, Thomas agreed. At least she didn’t leave a husband or children behind. Yes, Thomas agreed with that as well. In time the pain of his loss would lessen and he would embrace life again. After all, Pru was in a better place.

In that, Thomas heartily agreed.

It was late when the last of the mourners left. When the family was finally alone, Thomas dismissed the servants, giving them the rest of the day off to mourn. He left word that the family was not to be disturbed. The servants, many of whom had known Prudence since she was a child, offered their condolences, and received his in return.

Thomas joined the rest of the family in the library. It was almost dark now. He motioned for James to pull the drapes.

Caroline poured her father a drink and handed it to him as he sank into his favorite chair. “Thank God that is over. When I die, I don’t want a funeral. Just stick me in the ground and be done with it.”

Soft laughter came from the door. “Wouldn’t the village matrons love that.”

All heads turned as Chapel and Pru entered the room. Her family’s smiles were like beacons, drawing her closer.

“Finally awake, eh? Must be nice to sleep through your own funeral.” It was Marcus who teased them. He and Father Molyneux had made a special trip back to England especially for this day.

Pru merely dismissed him with a good-natured wave of her hand. “You’ll sleep through yours as well, Marcus.” Now that she wasn’t dying, it was easy to joke about death.

Caroline brought them both a drink. Her pregnancy would soon prevent her from going out in public, but for now her belly was a welcome sight. “I knew your funeral would be difficult, dearest, but it was all the more so for you not being truly dead.”

Pru cast a sideways glance at Chapel. “Yes, funny about that, isn’t it?”

Was that a blush that colored his cheeks? And was it possible that he was even more gorgeous to her now than he had been the first night they’d met? Maybe it was her improved vampire vision that made him look so fine, or perhaps it was that she loved him so much she wanted to shout it from the cliffs.

“I never thought this day would come,” Father Molyneux said from his seat near the fire. “I am glad to see it has.”

“Are you ready, then, my friend?” Chapel asked him.

The priest nodded. “I am.”

Butterflies danced in Pru’s stomach as Father
Molyneux positioned himself before them. They stood facing each other, their profiles presented to the occupants of the room. Chapel was smiling as he took both her hands in his. He wasn’t even nervous, the cad! She was shaking like a leaf. Even dying hadn’t affected her like this.

Of course, it wasn’t every day that a girl pledged to love someone forever with the expectation that it really would be forever!

Chapel didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned about making the same vow. The realization warmed her and calmed her nerves.

What he had done for her was a miracle. He didn’t tell her what in particular made him change his mind, only that he had decided that there was no way he could go on another six centuries without her by his side. Jokingly she had told him that if that was his intention, then he’d better get down on one knee and ask properly.

He had. And she said yes.

Then he told her she’d have to falsify her death because the entire parish was expecting her to die. Dr. Higgins might find it strange that she made such a complete recovery, especially since he knew the full degree of her condition. She had been little more than skin and bones when she “died” and now she was as fit and curvy as she had been before getting sick. There was no way she could explain that—not even with a miracle.

So they’d let everyone—even the servants—think she was dead and arranged her funeral—no viewing, of course. During that time she and
Chapel were sequestered in his room, where they spent their waking hours indulging in the pleasures their bodies offered. It was so wonderful that Pru couldn’t bring herself to feel the least bit guilty for it.

She also learned that they could feed from one another. It wouldn’t sustain them for long, but it cut back on how much human blood they needed to survive. Chapel took her to London, to a brothel where the madam knew of their kind, and taught her how to properly feed.

The prostitutes seemed pleased to see him, a fact that both amused and annoyed her. It was then that he told her about visiting this place the night he saved her from the poison. Without the blood of these women, they never would have made it out of the cellar alive, either of them.

That alone made everything all right in Pru’s mind. Besides, she had no need of jealousy. She knew how much she meant to this man and she knew that no other woman could compare. The thought could have made her arrogant, but it humbled her instead.

Feeding was easier than she had thought it would be. Instinct took care of most of it. Once she managed not to think about it, it came quite naturally to her.

“Do you, Severian de Foncé, take this woman to be your wife?” Molyneux went through the vows. “Until death do you part?”

“Death already tried,” Chapel quipped, grinning at Pru. “It failed.”

Pru laughed as Molyneux actually rolled his eyes. “I think I preferred when you did not try to make jests,
mon ami.
Answer the question.”

Chapel gazed at Pru with a look so rich and warm it hurt to look at him. “I do.”

Good Lord, she’d actually been holding her breath! What had she been thinking, that he’d say no?

Father Molyneux asked her the same question. She didn’t make any jokes, just said yes.

And then Chapel kissed her and nothing else mattered.

“Do I have to call you Madame de Foncé now?” Georgiana asked later as they dined on a supper of cold meats, salads, bread and cheese. Of course, there was cake to follow.

Pru wrinkled her nose. “No. I don’t think so.”

“You don’t like my name?” Her husband laughed before taking a sip of his wine.

“
You
don’t even use your name. Why should I?” She plucked a tiny tomato off his plate and popped it into her mouth. It was delicious. Food tasted so much better to her now—as though her sense of taste had been heightened along with everything else.

After dining they said their good-byes—most of which were tearful—and left for London, where they would spend the remainder of the night and the next day before setting off to Paris. It would be safer for them there—no one to recognize Pru as someone who was supposed to be dead.

She promised Caroline they would return when the baby came and told the rest of the family that
she would come home whenever she could. They were all welcome in Paris as well, she reminded them. Matilda seemed to like that idea. They apparently had good shopping in Paris.

“Take care of my little girl,” her father told Chapel as he shook his hand. The rift between the two of them had been easily repaired. And although her father had a bit of trouble accepting that she was now immortal, his joy at seeing her alive and healthy overshadowed whatever else he might feel. She knew he was happy for her.

Someday she would have to face the mortality of her family, but not today, and not for a very long time. It was something everyone had to face in the course of a lifetime. She would be fortunate enough to have reminders of them as they continued on in children and grandchildren. Somehow, she would know them all, even if she had to reveal the truth of what she was.

“I will,” Chapel promised her father. “Although I think most of my time will be spent keeping her curiosity under control.”

“I am not curious,” she insisted.

He grinned at her. “I have a present for you.”

She practically clapped her hands. “What is it?”

Her entire family laughed as she proved him right. “You are right,” Pru commented dryly to Father Molyneux. “I too liked him better when he didn’t try to make jokes.”

They were in Paris before Pru got her “present” from Chapel. It was a pretty little townhouse in a
fashionable neighborhood not far from the Eiffel Tower—a structure that amazed her.

She loved their house, their home. It was already decorated, but she would add some personal touches of her own. That was going to be the difficult part—trying to shop at night. She had yet to get used to not being able to go out during the day. It was the only downfall to her new life.

Certainly finding out that Chapel had made himself a massive fortune over the past six centuries made the transition easier. She wasn’t an overly material person, but there was something comforting in knowing that they could do whatever they wanted. Also in knowing that Chapel was smart with finances so that they could continue doing whatever they wanted for the decades to come.

“With enough money you can make people adapt to your lifestyle,” Chapel informed her as they unpacked the belongings that had been sent on before them. “You’ll be surprised how many shopkeepers will be more than happy to accommodate the eccentric de Foncés.”

“The eccentric de Foncés, how lovely.”

He swept her into his arms and kissed her as she squealed and laughed. He was so much happier than he had been before. Happier because of her.

“I love you,” she told him.

He squeezed her, his eyes as bright as newly minted gold. “I love you.”

She spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It was a small package on the table. “What is that?”

Releasing her, Chapel went to the parcel and picked it up. “I don’t know. It came while I was gone.”

“Don’t you think you should open it?”

He slid her a seductive gaze. “I thought I might open you first.”

With a delighted giggle, Pru grabbed the package from his hands and raced for the stairs. She almost careened into the wall, as she had yet to get used to just how fast she could move. She ran up to their bedroom and turned to face him with a grin.

He caught her in his arms and kissed her. His mouth and tongue teased and excited her, drawing her deeper into a sensual spell so sweet and joyful she thought her heart might burst.

God, how she loved this man. How alive she felt with him—more alive than she ever dreamed possible.

Chapel trembled with the force of his desire for Pru. His fingers refused to work properly as he fumbled with the buttons on the front of her gown. Finally he tore the offending garment in half, sending buttons flying in every direction. Pru merely laughed and tore his shirt in a similar fashion.

The rest of their clothes followed suit—some garments survived better than others. Chapel didn’t care. There would always be new clothes.

There would always be Pru.

She was his, forever.
Forever.
Would she want him for that long? She damn well better, because she was stuck with him. He was going to spend the
rest of eternity worshiping, cherishing and loving her until she couldn’t imagine life without him.

She talked as though he were the one who had given her something, but it was she who gave so much to him. She had given him life where before he had only an existence. She had put light where before there had been only darkness.

Naked, he lifted her onto the bed. Her skin was so pale and pearlescent against the dark blue of the quilt. There was so much color in their new home, not like his cell at the church. There were windows as well—with heavy drapes, of course, but at night the drapes would be open, letting the beauty of the night inside.

Pru stretched on the bed, reaching her arms up for him to join her. She was so damn beautiful to look at. He had always thought her lovely, but her rebirth into vampire had changed her. Where sickness had made her thin and frail, her new vitality made her soft and strong. The scars on her abdomen were gone, and her skin seemed to glow and her body was curved in all the right places, lush and sweet against his when he held her in his arms. He hadn’t thought it possible for her to be more beautiful than she had been the first night he met her, but she was. She was so beautiful that he was in awe of her.

He could deny her no longer—and why would he want to? He climbed onto the bed beside her. A wave of pleasure washed over him as he watched her gaze travel the length of his nude body. In her eyes he saw the same hunger and wonder that he felt when he looked at her.

Bracing his knees outside her thighs, his palms on either side of her head, he kissed her neck, the warm hollow of her throat where her pulse fluttered against his tongue. He tasted her there, where she smelled faintly of roses and clean skin, and lower—down her chest to the baby-fine skin between her breasts. Soon he would sink his fangs into the sweetness of her. He would bite her as her orgasm approached.

And she would bite him. They would be joined as one—body, blood and breath. It was a union no mortal being—or no immortal one, for that matter—could ever put asunder. Only death, and even then he’d find her.

He cupped the weight of her breasts in his hands, lightly dragging his thumbs across the tight peaks. A shudder raced through him as Pru gasped in pleasure. Her nipples were so sensitive, so incredibly receptive to his slightest touch. Chapel lowered his mouth to one, sucking it between his lips, pinching it gently with his teeth. She writhed beneath him, lifting her hips toward him. He lowered his pelvis to hers so she could push the heated dampness of her flesh against the eager hardness of his cock, and shivered.