Beloved Forever (3 page)

“We will be at our destination in a matter of hours. She’ll have time to recover from this experience then. An eternity, in fact.”

His hard laugh accompanied her into a state deeper than unconsciousness.

Chapter Two

Within minutes, she had drifted out of the deep coma-like state. Emily’s senses remained keen, even though she couldn’t open her eyes. She was conscious of a long period of pain. Like acid pumping through her veins, it coursed through every inch of her body, soaking her skin with perspiration, and feeling as though a fire burned inside her. She moaned, but no sound emerged. She still seemed to be caught in that frozen state Vallsade’s will had imposed upon her.

At some point, he carried her outside. A cool breeze whipped across her hot skin, but she couldn’t draw in a deep breath to cleanse her insides. Nor could she open her eyes. She could smell the mingled scent of sandalwood and blood emanating from him, and feel a solid mass beneath her when he laid her down, but didn’t identify it as the backseat of a car until she heard the engine turn over.

Sometime during the ride, the swaying and gentle rocking of the vehicle lulled her back into deep unconsciousness. She fell into a dream, tossing and turning. She whimpered and tried to force herself to awaken, but the dream overpowered her.

England, 1215

Emma opened her eyes at the furtive sounds issuing from the shadows of her room. She sat up in the massive four-poster bed, shivering as the cold air in the bedchamber invaded her warm cocoon. She pulled the fur coverlet up to her neck and scanned the recesses of the room.

She gave up on seeing anything and slid from the bed to light the candle on the table. Her bare feet touched icy stone, reminding her of how cold the room was. She frowned when she realized the fire had gone out. The chambermaid wasn’t tending to her duties, and would face reprimand in the morning.

Emma reached for the candle and gasped when someone arrested her hand in mid-motion. She opened her mouth to scream, and a cool hand clamped across her face. Her deep-green eyes widened when someone turned her around. Shock made her sway when she saw her betrothed standing before her.

“Leave off the light,” he whispered.

As soon as he dropped his hold, she took an involuntary step back. Her feet sank into the thick fur of the wolf hide draped across the floor, given by Nicholas one afternoon long ago. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a chill seized her spine. She crossed herself.

Nicholas frowned, taking a step back. “What troubles you, my beloved?”

“You are dead. News was brought by your kin upon his return.” She took another step back. “William told us you were killed in a battle near Jerusalem.” She heard him light the candle and a moment later, he was dimly illuminated.

“Do I look dead, Emma?”

She eyed him in the dark-blue tunic, yellow hosen, and leather boots. He looked much as he had when she last saw him in a hauberk and surcotte, before he left England for the Crusades two years ago. His dark hair was several inches longer now, flowing over one shoulder, and his dark eyes seemed haunted. His skin was also paler than she had ever seen. Nicholas was a man who enjoyed the outdoors—hunting, practicing with his men and riding his stallion at breakneck pace through green pastures. His pallor gave her doubt of his good health.

“Well?”

“I cannot tell, sir.”

He frowned. “How could I be dead and stand before you?”

Emma shrugged and took another step back as he approached. She stopped only when she felt the chill from the stone of the fireplace at her back, shivering when he walked to her, pressing his body against hers. She yelped and tried to push him away. “’Tis indecent.”

Nicholas sighed. “We have wasted much time with being proper. Let me taste you, Emma. Join me.”

Her eyes widened at his seductive drawl, and she groped on the mantle for the cross she kept there. She felt an urgent need to hold it. “I know not if you are a fevered dream or my own heart’s longings, but you must leave, sir.”

“I am here and real.” He touched her bare arm, unprotected by the square-necked, sleeveless sleeping gown fashioned from white cotton. “Feel me.”

She cried out when he pulled her into his arms, pressing her against him. She could feel the coolness of his skin even through the thick tunic. Emma could hear his sluggish heartbeat where her ear pressed against his chest. She lifted her head, trying to keep any trace of fear from her voice. “I pray you will come back tomorrow, good sir. Father will surely wish to speak with you and make arrangements.” She forced a shaky smile, while keeping her eyes averted from his. He mustn’t see how desperate she was to have him gone. “’Tis a miracle you are alive. There is no reason to postpone our union.”

He grinned, displaying flashing white teeth. They seemed sharper than when she saw him last. “My thoughts mirrored, sweet Emma. I thought of naught but you while in distant lands.”

Her heart ached at the words, for she had thought of him every day for the two years he had been gone. Six months ago, when his brother brought news of his demise, she had thought her heart would never mend. Without William’s steadfast support these past few months, she couldn’t have endured the pain. “My heart wept without you.” She relaxed in his embrace, temporarily shoving aside her misgivings. Her body warmed to his touch, aching for something she didn’t know how to articulate.

“Oh, my love,” he whispered in an urgent tone, “I cannot be without you for even another day.”

Even in the swell of passion that threatened to overwhelm her, she stiffened when he pushed aside one of her braids and placed his lips against her neck. He still felt colder than he should have, even for moving about in the middle of the night in midwinter. She renewed her search for the cross. Her fingers brushed against the smooth wood, and she grasped the large symbol in her hand. Nicholas seemed not to notice as he licked her neck, murmuring words she didn’t understand. His hold tightened abruptly, and she whimpered.

Nicholas raised his head. “Do not fear. It shall not pain you for long.”

Emma thrust the cross into his face, causing him to recoil. She stepped around him and away from the fireplace, keeping the cross extended. “I implore you to leave. Now.”

His face reflected pain and fear, and he moved farther away from her and the cross. “Cast aside that cursed thing,” he snarled. “Be not afraid of what I have become, Emma. ‘Tis wondrous in many ways.”

It did not look wondrous. Pain contorted his expression, with his upper lip skinned back to expose elongated fangs. He appeared to be suffering. She wanted no part of it. “Leave now or I shall scream. Father will send you back to the Hell you have come from if he finds you here in this form.”

Nicholas took a single step toward her. “You are my betrothed. My promised one. Do not forsake me, beloved.”

She forced aside her pity, refusing to acknowledge the pain in his eyes or the desperation in his stance. She wouldn’t let his anguished tone or the clamoring of her own body affect her. Her immortal soul was much too precious. She had no name for what her former fiancé had become, but knew it must be evil. God Almighty must surely have turned his back on Nicholas. “Go now. I shall give you a chance to flee before I scream.”

He gave a mocking bow, and all traces of hurting disappeared from his face. His haunted eyes turned cold. “So kind, m’lady. Mayhap we should see how well you scream with your throat torn out.”

She swallowed heavily and opened her mouth to cry for help, but hesitated. Once the words left her, she couldn’t call them back. She closed her mouth with a click, without shouting. “Go now, Nicholas. Do not be foolish. Father will slaughter you.”

His lips twisted. “My existence cannot be undone by one such as your father.”

Emma forced her voice to emerge clearly and confidently, denying what her heart told her. Her soul’s urgings were stronger. “I could not love you as you are now. Leave me to my life with William.”

He froze, as if rendered from stone. Finally, his lips moved, though barely, to ask, “What do you speak of?”

She met his eyes, knowing she could not betray a trace of fear. “William kindly offered to act in your stead. He has been my lord husband for a fortnight, Nicholas. I was reluctant when he first offered, but I love him now.”
Never as I loved you
, her heart cried out, but she ruthlessly suppressed the betraying words. He would use any weakness against her.

He shook his head, sending long waves of black hair flowing around his sharp, devastated face. “I do not believe you.” His brow furrowed. “’Tis not possible. You would be at Vallsade Manor were it true.”

“William has been dispatched on an errand for King John.” She hugged herself. “Vallsade Manor is too large, and I have not taken command of the household yet. Nor do I wish to without his support. I opted to stay with Father until his return.”

Nicholas seemed to shrink before her eyes. He was normally tall and imposing, but his shoulders slumped forward, and a tear hung motionless from his lashes before falling down his cheek when he bowed his head.

Emma’s heart twisted with his pain, so closely mirroring her own. Why now did he return, just as her heart had begun to embrace another? She took a hesitant step toward him, reaching out her hand. “I did not know you lived still.”

“Lived?” He raised his head quickly. Rage distorted his features, and his eyes burned a dark shade of red. “You call this living? I am undead, my beloved.” He spat the final word. “I was desperate to return to you. I would have done anything.” His mouth curled. “I became this to return to you, only to find you wed to my brother.”

She jumped when he smashed his fist into the fireplace. Horror consumed her when he lifted his hand to examine the damage. A thin smear of blood marred the injured knuckles. Even as she went to him, she saw the bones in his hand moving under the skin—repairing and reforming to their former state. She froze inches away from him. “What have you become, Nicholas?”

He lifted his head, turning his gaze from his hand to her. “Vengeance given form, my faithless wench.”

She yelped when he jerked her into his arms, causing her to drop the cross. Emma beat her fists against his chest, but she might as well have been a fly for all the damage she did to his solid frame. He easily subdued her, crushing her against him in so tight an embrace that she could barely draw breath. Coldness emanated from him, seeping into her bones, and making her become limp. Deeper inside, a fire that had simmered swelled to an inferno, urging her to ignore her misgivings and surrender.

“Look into my eyes.”

She shook her head, barely finding the energy to do so.

“Do not defy me. Look into my eyes, Emma.”

Against her will, she felt her neck curving and her head lifting. Her dark green eyes locked with endless pools of scarlet-tinged ebony. She could see her own death reflected back to her. “Please, have mercy,” she whispered.

He ignored her plea and broke eye contact to place his mouth against her neck. His lips moved against her skin with feathery softness, evoking sensations that raced down her spine. Despite herself, she moaned when his tongue traced the vein pulsing in her throat. She arched her neck further, offering him more. The voice of reason was fading to a shadowy whisper she could barely hear.

Emma stiffened when his teeth penetrated her skin. A flash of sanity returned, and a scream built in her throat, but she couldn’t give it voice. Her body was no longer her own. She lay helpless in his arms, aware of every prick of his fangs as he greedily sucked her blood, and each corresponding shiver of pleasure her body gave in response. Soon, she was floating. His husky laugh brought a measure of lucidity, and she struggled to focus on his face when he lifted his head.

“From bridegroom to widower in a fortnight.” His eyes were cold, and he wore a humorless smile. “William has tasted but one of your delights, beloved. Before the night is through, I shall taste them all.”

She wanted to cry as he carried her to the bed, but the tears remained locked in her throat in a thick ball when he lowered her to her feet beside the bed. Her body responded when Nicholas’s hands molded to her breasts, caressing her nipples through the dressing gown. She leaned against him, hiding her face against his chest, ashamed of her reaction. How could she let her body lead her to damnation?

His harsh inhalation as one hand slid lower to massage her hip returned Emma’s attention to Nicholas, instead of her introspection. She lifted her head to meet his eyes, seeing urgency burning there, but also tenderness. Anger emanated from him, but not in greater quantity than the love she could sense. It wasn’t desire leading her astray. It was love. Whatever he was, she could accept it, couldn’t she? Better that than to face another separation without end. When he had departed for the Crusades, her heart had broken, not knowing if she would ever see him again. Upon word of his death, she had wanted to die herself. Having him back now, no matter what he was, should be savored as a gift.

“My love,” he whispered, before moving his mouth down her neck, toward her breasts. “So long…”

“Yes.” Too long. Why hadn’t she spoken up when he announced his plan to join the holy wars? Would he have listened if she had sacrificed her pride and begged him to stay? What would have been different in their lives? For one thing, she wouldn’t feel a frisson of fear underlying the pleasure created each time he touched her.

Emma gasped when Nicholas stripped off her gown before taking one of her nipples into his mouth, as both of his hands went to her buttocks, cupping and pressing them to bring her pelvis in snug alignment with his. His cock pressed against the moist entrance of her pussy, held at bay only by the cloth of his hosen. When he flicked his tongue across her nipple, she could feel her own blood from his mouth as he smeared it over her body. The wound on her neck wept rivulets of life force in a steady stream. She reached up to touch it, almost jilted from the idyllic interlude, but his hand left her buttocks to catch hers before she could reach her neck. Nicholas lifted his head from her breast.