Midnight Embrace (27 page)

Fearing she might be rebuffed, she cupped his cheek in her hand. "Alesandro?"

"What am I to do with you?" he asked quietly.

"Only love me, as I love you."

Did she truly love him? he wondered. Or was she enamored of his preternatural powers?

" 'Lisa, I am going away."

"What? When? Where?" Her gaze searched his face. "Why? What have I done?"

"You have done nothing. I am going away for a year, to give you time to yourself—"

"No! No! You made me come here. You made me see other people, other men—"

" 'Lisa I—"

"No!" She stood and faced him, her hands clenched at her sides. "I will not let you go away from me. I love you. I do not need to see other men to know that it's you I love. I will not stop loving you if you go away. I will not love you any less if you are not here."

He rose to his feet in one lithe movement to tower over her. But she refused to be intimidated. Holding her ground, she stared up at him. "If you do not want me, if you do not love me, then I'll go away and you need never see me again." She held up her hand when he started to speak. "I'm going to my room. Don't follow me. Think about it, Alesandro. I know what I want. I don't want to see you again until you know what you want. Good night."

With all the dignity and grace of a highborn lady, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room.

Alesandro stared after her, stunned by her outburst. She had grown up in the past few months, he mused, smiling faintly. She was a woman who knew her own mind and was not afraid to speak it.

She loved him. She had said it before, and he had believed her because he wanted to so desperately. But this time, for the first time, he knew she spoke the truth.

She loved him. And she had given him an ultimatum.

I know what I want. I don't want to see you again until you know what you want.

Bold words, brave words, for a mere slip of a girl. How beautiful she had looked glaring up at him, with her eyes flashing fire and her cheeks flushed with anger. How could he even think of letting her go? If he did, he knew he would regret it every night for the rest of his accursed life.

He was tempted to go to her, but another need clawed at him, a need that could not be denied.

Settling his cloak on his shoulders, he vanished into the night, searching for that someone who had what he needed. Who needed what he had.

Analisa's tears came hot and swift when she was in her room with the door locked behind her. She knew no lock would keep him out should he wish to enter, but she locked the door anyway. Why did he keep trying to send her away? Didn't he love her at all? But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she was being unfair. He loved her desperately, and it was because he loved her that he wanted what was best for her. She knew he felt guilty for loving her, and what was worse, he felt unworthy of her love.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she paced the floor, wishing she knew how to convince him that she was old enough to know her own mind. Would she be wise to let him go? A year was not such a long time. It would not change her feelings for Alesandro, and if it would somehow put his mind at ease… Moving to the window, she drew back the drapes and peered out into the darkness. A year. What would she do in that time? She could travel, but what fun would it be without him? She could go to parties and balls, plays and operas, meet a thousand men, but to what purpose? There was no room in her heart for anyone but Alesandro.

He wanted her to have a normal life, to play in the sunshine, to marry and have children. She placed her hands on her flat stomach and tried to imagine her womb swollen with new life. She had never given any thought to child-bearing before, had taken it for granted that she would someday marry and have children, though she'd had no idea who her future husband might be. She had caught the eye of one of the neighboring young men, but they had never done more than smile at each other and speak a few words, and now he was dead, killed by the same epidemic that had taken the lives of her family.

Was she willing to give up having children to be with Alesandro? The answer was an overwhelming yes. She was willing to give up everything and anything to be with him, to love him. She would spend the rest of her days trying to make him happy if only he would let her.

And that, of course, was the one question for which she had no answer. Would he let her?

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
was
best 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 were more 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.