Miss Austen's Vampire (3 page)

That was it. That was what attracted him to her: she was unafraid to display her intelligence in the presence of a gentleman. Having a sister, he knew that young women were taught to hide their intelligence, to be demure and simple in front of men, so as to inflate the men’s self-worth and make themselves more attractive. Not so with Miss Austen. Her writing proved her to be one of the cleverest women in the nation, and as he had seen this evening, she was not afraid to show that intelligence in person.

Her intelligence. And the way she bit her lower lip. Beguiling. Arousing.

Flirting through the rest of the dinner brought Gabriel more human pleasure than he had enjoyed since his turning. By the time dessert was finished he was fully entranced by the lovely Miss Austen, and was fairly certain she felt something for him as well. That nothing could happen between him and the famous authoress was a given, though he found himself wishing fervently that he was still human. However, the hours of pleasant flirtations had left him with a growing appetite, for both blood and a willing, or unwilling in a pinch, sexual partner. Before he could unwittingly do anything to harm Miss Austen he needed to get out of the room. Then he could turn his attentions to finding what he required.

Gabriel excused himself from the table, telling the ladies on either side of him that he would return shortly. His situation was turning desperate and he feared he could make a foolish error of judgment when so needy.

As he ran through various scenarios in his mind he realized his options were limited. Quite limited. After leaving the dining room, he quickly headed below stairs, to the kitchens.

The last of the dinner menu having been served, the men and women who worked the kitchen were busy cleaning and washing. Between the sounds of the clanking dishes and glassware and the boisterous conversations of people nearing the end of a long day of work, Gabriel didn’t need to be careful to stay quiet as he stepped into a far corner of the room. His eyes quickly took in his choices. Several of the young women were attractive, in a wholesome, below-stairs way. They wouldn’t do. Such women were accustomed to attention and would make a fuss should he suddenly show interest. In a corner near him two young women scraped plates into the bins. They were undoubtedly the lowest on the ladder of kitchen workers and by far the youngest. Neither could be more than eighteen years of age. And even better, they were exceptionally plain. Either would do nicely.

Making sure no one saw or heard him, Gabriel sidled up to the one closest to him, grasped her hand, and tugged. “Come along with me, sweetheart.”

The girl seemed to be stunned and thrilled to be singled out by someone of his rank. She happily followed him along until they came to a long-forgotten storage room.

Gabriel led her into the dark room, closed the door behind him, undid his breeches, slid the girl’s skirts up, and thrust into her depths. His deep plunges elicited cries from the girl, more from pain than pleasure, but when his teeth sank into the soft flesh of her throat she went silent. Her warm, coppery blood flowed down his throat, spurring on his sexual activity all the more. Normally at this point whatever woman he was with began singing his praises as his bite released a special chemical that heightened her sexual response. But this poor girl wasn’t going to have a chance to enjoy that vampiric gift as he’d drained her too quickly.

She went limp as unconsciousness overtook her, but Gabriel didn’t stop drinking or thrusting. Visions of Miss Austen danced through his imagination with each thrust, each swallow. To be able to make love to her, to taste her blood, that would be heaven. The thought brought him to a thunderous climax, and with the last orgasmic thrusts he swallowed the girl’s last drops of blood. Releasing her, he let her body fall to the floor. He stared at the lifeless body and uttered a curse. How had he allowed himself to do this? He hadn’t killed a woman in days, and now this. The poor girl had never asked to be used so. To be used, killed, and summarily dismissed. But what choice had he had? It was this unfortunate girl, or Miss Austen. Jane.

No question who it had to be, whose life had to be sacrificed.

He buttoned up his breeches and surveyed the situation. The body would have to be left there for now. No one would be looking in this old storage room. Then after the house was asleep for the night he would come back to move and dispose of the body. He bent over her and touched her forehead. “I am sorry. Truly sorry.”

Mr. Augustine’s absence afforded Jane a few precious minutes to ponder the situation she now found herself in. She was not sure if she had ever had the pleasure of meeting such an attractive man. Every time she’d glanced his way and saw that beautiful face, atop that magnificent, tall body her breath caught in her throat. At this rate she was in danger of suffocating before the evening was over. And not only was the man’s countenance spectacular, he was also kind, charming, and above all a reader of novels. In her experience few men of her acquaintance were readers of novels, or at least admitted to reading them. Too many men thought novel reading was a frivolous pastime of silly women. But not Mr. Augustine. No, he had even read
Pride and Prejudice
and admired the work, a fact that only served to make him that much more attractive.

Forced to make polite conversation with the exceedingly boring gentleman on her other side, Jane wished for Mr. Augustine’s quick return.

Minutes passed, and fruit and cheese was brought to the table, signaling the impending end of the dinner portion of the evening, and soon the ladies would be separated from the gentlemen. She found herself growing more anxious for Mr. Augustine to rejoin the party. Their time together was ticking away, and she hoped to spend more time enjoying his charms.

Just as she despaired of any expectation of his returning before the men went off, Mr. Augustine pulled out the empty chair next to her and lowered his long body into it. His pale complexion now had a rosiness about it, as if he had been outside in the chill of the evening. Perhaps, he had. Perhaps the confinement of the room made him desire some fresh air. Jane found herself wishing he had asked her to accompany him during his turn in the garden, if indeed that was where he had been.

“Forgive me my absence. I hope I did not miss anything of great interest whilst I was away.”

Jane caught herself staring, her mouth agape. Mr. Augustine was still just as attractive in all particulars as he had been prior to his absence, but now she noted his deep, melodic voice. A voice such as his could seduce an unwitting woman. She shook herself out of her reverie and tried to remember what he had just said.

“So, I take your silence to mean I did not miss anything of importance?” Gabriel’s brow rose in question.

Embarrassed by her unladylike actions, Jane tried to cover for herself. Speaking barely above a whisper, she said, “No, no, Mr. Augustine, you missed very little. I believe Miss Goodhaven shared something about the cost of silk cloth and how it will affect her choices for the coming season, Mr. Waters enlightened us on the subject of military expenses, your brother-in-law described in great detail the flux from which he suffered last spring, and Miss Advantageous Marriage there—she spoke on the virtues of frequent brisk exercise. All in all, as you can see, very fascinating.” She cocked her head to one side and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

Gabriel leaned in close to her and whispered in her ear, “I am truly devastated. Indeed, I would have greatly enjoyed sharing that experience with you, Miss Austen.”

The close proximity of Mr. Augustine made it possible to smell an appealing fragrance on him, and that combined with feeling his breath on her ear was almost more than she could bear. She felt a shiver run from the nape of her neck all the way down her back.

“I am afraid I must admit I would have enjoyed laughing at all of it, with you, Mr. Augustine.”

“Isn’t it your Mr. Bennet who says, ‘For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?’”

Astonished to hear her words quoted by Mr. Augustine, Jane said, “You have a line committed to memory?”

“I am sorry, does that make you uncomfortable? I assure you, dear lady, it is only done out of great admiration. I found that particular line one of the most amusing in your book.” He stared at her from under thick lashes, making his pleading eyes all the more appealing.

Flustered, and trying to recover, she said, “No, no, I take it as quite a great compliment, that you should have memorized one of my humble lines. I am surprised, that is all. I have never met anyone who committed to memory anything I’ve ever written.” She smiled at the angelic face.

It would be later that night when Jane would write in her journal that it was at that moment, on this date, that she’d she first felt herself in danger of falling in love with Mr. Gabriel Augustine.

Chapter 4

“Sir, the young lady who was accompanying you has returned to town. She asked me to hire her a carriage, and despite the hour she was quite set on leaving tonight.”

The innkeeper was visibly anxious, most likely fearing the wrath of the gentleman from Herrifield Court. Locals made it a point to serve every whim of the Augustine family. Gabriel didn’t know whether he was relieved by the news of this departure or sorely disappointed. It did mean one less thing he had to worry about while his mind was in a whirl with the charms of the lovely Miss Austen. On the other hand, some time with the willing-and-able Lavinia would have assuaged certain needs that were beginning to overcome him, despite the respite with the kitchen maid. Miss Austen was proving to be the undoing of all his hard-fought restraint.

Before leaving the party he had found a quiet moment to ask Agatha about the plans of the other dinner guests—those who did not live in the immediate area. He was delighted to hear Miss Austen would be the guest of the Dartfourds for Saturday and Sunday, and not scheduled to leave until Monday afternoon. Though his original plan had been to return to London in the morning, he was now imagining the time he could spend with Miss Austen over the next two and a half days. As the brother of the Lady Dartfourd it would not be thought unusual for him to spend time at the house with his family and their guests. He told Agatha to expect him in the early afternoon next day, and she was very happy by his change of plans, not having seen much of him for the past few months.

His afternoon arrival would give him time to feed, but with Lavinia gone he would now have to find a source of his sustenance. As he settled back on the bed trying to relax his body and calm his mind with its constant images of Miss Austen playing through it, he forced his mind to turn to possible sources. Were it not for the arousing Miss Austen he could have made it through the day without fear, having imbibed so well over the past twenty-four hours. But to insure her safety from his monstrous appetites he had no choice but to feed. And feed well.

Saturday morning, after a night filled with unusually pleasant dreams, Jane stood in the center of the unfamiliar bedchamber and considered her options for dress. That she wished to look her best was a given. Her evening of flirtations with the beautiful Mr. Augustine made her hope for such opportunities during the day, and she did not want to have the appearance of the old, spinster woman who normally spent her days hidden away with pen and paper.

Carefully considering the dresses she had laid out on the bed, she knew her options were few. While she had packed her best dresses for the days at the country estate, her best only came to four dresses. She brought two for daywear and two for evening. Picking up a robin’s egg blue muslin, she held it in front of herself and peered at the image in the looking glass. While the blue went well with her complexion, it did nothing to bring out her hazel eyes. However, the other day dress, a green muslin, went well with her eyes, but she knew it did not flatter her figure as well as the blue.

Lady Agatha’s maid finished lacing up Jane’s stays before first assisting her to slip on petticoats and finally the blue muslin over the undergarments. Jane adjusted the bust line, to show off that area to its best advantage. Cut lower than she would have worn during the day at home, she felt the style was flattering, and perfectly in keeping with a day at an elegant estate. That Mr. Augustine might notice her figure and find it attractive was, in truth, what she hoped for.

Before leaving the room, she went to the looking glass and pinched her cheeks, fiddled with the curls that framed her face, and bit her lips, bringing color to them. Only when satisfied that she had done all that was possible to look as little like an old spinster, she left the room.

Despite the day’s bright sun, the far recesses of the stable were as dark as night. Arranging the unconscious, but still alive, stable boy on the pile of hay, Gabriel attempted to make it appear as if he were asleep, like he had been overcome by fatigue and had lain down for a brief nap. He had only taken from the boy what sustenance was absolutely needed to make it through the day, and hoped that the sexual activities of yesterday would be enough to keep at bay those particular urges. Overcoming the sexual appetite should be more easily accomplished than his other more insatiable appetite. He hoped.

Gabriel mounted his favorite stallion, Greystone, and headed out for Dartfourd Hall. Thankful that Francis had been willing to arrange for Greystone to be awaiting him at the inn in the morning, he ran his hand over the head of the magnificent animal. Grey from head to tail, with only one small white patch just above his nostrils, the stallion had been with him for three years, since birth. Gabriel had had few opportunities to ride him since his turning, and each time he’d mounted him the horse had been skittish for several minutes, unable to recognize his master in his new state. But Gabriel’s soft whispers into the horse’s ear calmed him each time, as the horse did know and respond to his master’s familiar voice.

On the grounds of the Dartfourd estate a large woods sat a half-mile from the house. Gabriel’s mind was wandering to the delights of Miss Jane Austen as he traveled the familiar path and it wasn’t until he was almost upon her that he saw the woman strolling along the trail. He reined in Greystone who was none too pleased to stop the much needed exercise, and let Gabriel know this with a loud snorting. Miss Austen jumped at the unexpected sound, and stumbled off the path when she saw the large stallion.

“Miss Austen, forgive us for interrupting your walk. Are you all right?” Gabriel spoke as he dismounted the horse and quickly made his way to her.

She looked toward him, squinting a bit as a beam of sunlight made its way through the leafy branches and hit her in the face. “Mr. Augustine?”

“Yes, Miss Austen, it is. Again I hope you will forgive the interruption.”

“Just because your arrival was unexpected does not make it unwelcome.” She smiled shyly at him.

He felt her smile’s warmth pervade his body, a feeling he had not experienced since his change, and he took a moment to revel in the sensation. Gabriel returned the smile, eliciting a fluttering of eyelashes and a hint of a blush across the fair cheekbones. He couldn’t help but notice how the sky-blue dress she wore showed off her slender figure, and he allowed himself a brief glance at the swell of her breasts. Knowing that further admirations could only lead to a dangerous situation, he fixed his eyes on the distance and took a deep breath.

“If it is not entirely unwelcome, would you mind if I walked with you for a ways?”

“I would quite enjoy that, Mr. Augustine.”

Gabriel was sure he was not imagining the note of flirtation in her voice.

They walked silently for several minutes, the silence comfortable and companionable. Gabriel felt as if he had known the lady for a good length of time, rather than only having just met her.

With Greystone walking to Gabriel’s side they came out of the woods and saw the lake that sat directly in front of the manor house. On this sunny morning, the house was reflected in the lake, a perfect image of the honey-stone building floating upside down in the calm water.

“Oh my,” Miss Austen muttered, “what a fine view. It must be a joy to live in such beautiful surroundings.”

“Dartfourd is impressive, but especially on a day such as today.” Gabriel paused a moment before continuing, “Would you like to walk beside the lake, or would you prefer to avoid it and head back to the house along the west side of the water?”

“On such a spectacular spring day? Go back to the house? Oh no, Mr. Augustine, I would much prefer to spend time out of doors by the lake,” she said, then quickly added, “If that is to your liking.”

They had stopped at the crest of the hill that was above the lake, and Gabriel turned to Miss Austen, met her eyes, and said in a low voice, “I would like nothing more than to accompany you on a walk along the lakeside.” This time she did not look away, but held his gaze for several seconds. Gabriel was acutely aware of a change in her breathing, rapid and shallow. His vampiric sense of hearing also heard her heartbeat quicken.

With her body betraying her attraction to him, Gabriel felt the familiar arousal in his own body. And though the feeling was all too familiar, it was also very different from what he was accustomed to. This arousal was not limited to the visceral, but included more.
What was it
? His soul? His heart? Did he have either of those? Were they dead? Taken from him when he became vampire? And if they were gone, then what was it that was allowing him to feel these new, intense feelings of affection? That was it. It was affection he was feeling. Affection for the gentle, intelligent, witty woman before him. And arousal. There was no denying that, but it was certainly coupled with warm feelings of affection.

After tying Greystone to the nearest tree, he held out his arm for her. “The ground can be uneven. Please allow me to assist you, Miss Austen.” Without any hesitation, she looped her arm through his, and there was no mistaking the sound of her rapidly beating heart. If his were still human, he knew his would be beating a strong rhythm within his chest.

Careful to keep her eyes away from the handsome visage that was Gabriel Augustine, Jane looked out over the landscape. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she was aware that what her eyes were seeing was very pleasing, a lovely landscape shown beautifully on this spectacular, sunny day. But all her senses were fully tuned to the place where her body was making contact with his body. And to the closeness of his body, right up against her side, as they slowly walked toward the lake. And to the scent that she now would always associate with Gabriel Augustine. It wasn’t like a man’s cologne that so many men heavily doused themselves in. No, this was something else altogether. It was
his
scent—the scent of Gabriel. Musky, and of the earth. Of man. Of this one man. She found herself breathing deeply of it, filling herself with him.

Jane was aware that she was not the typical kind of woman the Gabriel Augustines of the world usually spent time with, and certainly not the kind they courted. At nine and thirty years of age, she was to be pitied her unmarried state. Plain, poor, and with no carnal knowledge of men, her only outlet for love and romance came within the pages of her books. She wrote what she had never known. And now, at her advanced age, she acknowledged the fact that she would never know of such things.

So now, walking arm-in-arm with the handsome Mr. Augustine, she was keenly aware that her feelings of attraction for the man were never to be reciprocated. She was not the sort of woman he could find attractive, but he was being exceptionally kind to the old maiden lady as he took her for a walk to the lake. She mused that it was most likely being done as a favor to his sister, making sure that the single woman was being suitably entertained. Jane smiled to herself as she decided to pretend she did not care. At least this experience would be good fodder for her future writing.

After crossing the grassy expanse they arrived at the edge of the lake, where small cattails grew along the water line, Gabriel peered out over the lake to the manor house.

“You know, when my sister left our family home to marry Lord Dartfourd, she was rather bereft at leaving the only home she had ever known. Now, as Lady of this perfectly situated home, she is most content and happy.”

Jane could hear the note of affection for his sister in Mr. Augustine’s voice. After walking all the distance to the lake without once looking his way, she decided to risk glancing up at his face. The same affection she heard in his voice was evident in his expression.

“You are close to your sister, I take it?”

“Indeed. Though since her marriage and the births of her children, we are not as close as we were in our youth. And in truth, I am not the man she used to know.” Those last words were said under his breath, and she wasn’t sure if she was meant to have heard them. Jane decided to err on the side of caution and made no comment.

Visibly shaking off a brief moment of melancholy, Gabriel turned and led them along the lakeside. He asked her about her published books, their road to publishing, any other books she was planning, her choices of characters and settings. His questions came fast and furiously, and she was delighted to hear someone, especially a man, have such an interest in her work. Only her brother Henry showed such a level of interest in her writing. Three-quarters of an hour sped by as they conversed on her favorite subject.

Laughing about the socially inept Mr. Collins of
Pride and Prejudice
and how he was indeed based on several such vicars she had known, Jane and Gabriel came to the opposite side of the lake. Jane assumed they would now make their way to the house and go indoors, but instead he led her on, into a small stand of trees that grew just feet from the lake. Once inside the copse, she could see that they were sheltered from the house. Realizing she was now very much alone with Mr. Augustine, Jane could feel the familiar warmth of a blush creeping up her chest, to her neck, and finally onto her face. Were he a much more average man, in appearance as well as character and temperament, she was certain she would not now be feeling the fluttering of her heart, and the telltale warmth on her cheeks.

But Mr. Augustine was no average man.

She had been gazing at the lake as she was assessing her feelings and the situation, and could now feel his eyes on her. Keeping her chin down and head very still, she ventured to peek up at him out of the corner of her eye. When her eyes met his she quickly glanced away, but after a thorough admonishment of herself and her silliness she dared to look into them again. Dark, so dark she could hardly see a pupil within them, and lazily half open, his eyes appeared drunken, though she knew he had not had a drop to drink. They were now standing mere inches apart, so the only distance from his face to hers was the difference in their heights. Jane couldn’t stop staring into the liquid eyes. It was as if she had been taken prisoner by those eyes, and could only do as they commanded. Another new feeling, experience. Though nervous beyond anything she had ever known, she was also strangely comfortable. Her pounding heart may have been sending a different message however.