State of Grace (Resurrection) (23 page)

We both came, and, as he lost himself inside me, I heard him call my name.

Chapter
10

I was starting to get a feel for the rhythm of the days, or should I say
nights
.  We were back at the castle again, for the evening meal. I ate in the kitchen, this time accompanied only by Roman. I had not seen Viktor since the Godfrey incident yesterday.

Roman and I had talked on the ride, careful with one another.

‘I did not realise it could be so good.’ He had admitted.

‘Without biting?’
  

He had inclined his head, not meeting my eyes, as our horses ambled along, side by side.

‘I know what you are,’ I had told him.

He had nodded again, once. ‘I know you do,’ he had said.

‘You’re not an alien, then,’ I had joked, trying to lighten the mood, and the corner of his mouth had curved upwards.

‘No.’

‘You are a vampire,’ I had said softly, without emotion, carefully neutral.

‘Yes.’

‘Can you… will you… talk about it?’

At this, he had finally looked at me, his face unfathomable once more. He had taken a very deep breath. ‘I have never separated the taking of a woman’s body from the taking of her blood.’ His shoulders were hunched and he sat stiffly in the saddle without his usual loose grace.

‘And?’ I prompted, scared to hear his answer but needing to hear it, nevertheless.

‘It was beautiful. You
are beautiful.’

I had closed my eyes in relief, then opened them again, and shook my head slowly. He had raised an eyebrow, questioningly. I had bitten my lip before I answered, trying
to sort out the mess in my mind. Eventually I had said, ‘I can’t believe I care so much about what you think, what you feel. I know almost nothing about you, yet I have made love with you. Twice. I know you are a killer –’ I had raised a hand to stop him from speaking as he opened his mouth, and went on, ‘That might be perfectly normal in your world, but not in mine, so I won’t, can’t, judge you on that. But,’ I had frowned, ‘everything I know about vampires, everything I have read’ (he glanced at me sharply, his eyes searching mine) ‘everything I’ve seen in the movies’ (eyes now asking a question), ‘tells me that vampires are not good. Evil, in fact. Undead. I should be very, very scared, and sometimes I am.’ He tried to speak again, but I continued, ‘I am scared of what you are, but I don’t think you will hurt me. Intentionally.’ There! I’d said it.

‘I won’t hurt you,’ he said. ‘Ever. And I will not take your blood again.’ His promise rang true, but I had a thought
that would not lie down and die, and I had to ask. ‘You’ve already bitten me. Will I become like you? Am I going to turn into a vampire?’

He reined in Fred, and Bob had halted alongside the stallion. Roman had reached across the space between us and had taken my hand in his.

‘Is that what you fear?’ he had asked. I had nodded, tears prickling. ‘Don’t be afraid, cariad,’ he said. ‘I have not made you vampire.’

‘Really? I’m not going to become one of the undead?’

‘No.’ His tone had been gentle.

‘What if you bite me again?’ I had asked.

‘It is more complicated than that,’ he had replied, Fred moving restlessly beneath him. ‘I cannot make you vampire simply by taking your blood.’ He had withdrawn his hand and I shivered when he had added. ‘But I could kill you.’

‘Is that what you meant when you said you might hurt me?’

‘Yes.’ He had refused to look at me once more, and had urged Fred forward with his legs. Bob trotted to catch up.

‘But you didn’t,’ I had said. ‘You didn’t hurt me.’

He must have heard the remnants of passion as I spoke, remembering what we had done together earlier.

‘No,’ he said, wonderingly. ‘I didn’t.’

I hadn’t been able to get any more out of him on the subject, so the rest of the journey had been made in silence. Except for my asking about Godfrey.

‘You have no need to worry,’ he had said. ‘Viktor made it appear an accident. Godfrey should have taken more care.’

By the time we reached the castle I was cold again. Thankfully the kitchens were warm and humid and I quickly warmed up. The hot food helped.

I caught a glimps
e of Ingrith, and the cook with the greasy cap, but no one spoke and the only contact we had with anyone was when a teenage girl had placed plates of food on the table and then hurried away. I ate Roman’s share as well as my own, remembering to water down the wine. The neat stuff had teeth, as I had discovered last night.

‘Why can’t I drink the water?’

‘Water on its own can make you ill. It is better if you drink wine,’ Roman replied.

‘I drank water at the cottage,’ I said, alarmed.

‘Hush, cariad. That water is from the spring behind the house. It is pure. It does not suffer from the evils that plague the water in the castle. The water the castle uses is drawn from the well and the River Honddu and the Usk.’

Ah,’ I said in understanding. ‘Germs.’
                

‘That is thrice t
onight you have said words I do not know,’ he said in a serious tone, but I could see the sparkle in his eyes. He was flirting with me! I played along.

‘It’ll all become clear in about, oh, nine hundred years,’ I joked.

‘We must have a long talk, you and I,’ he threatened. ‘I want to know all about your world. And you.’ Our voices were low, conscious of the many ears in the kitchen.

‘Later,’ I promised and he smiled at me, slow and wicked, and I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking it, too. But now was not the time or the place to think about things like that.

The mood in the great hall was sombre.

‘Lord Brychan is grieving for Godfrey,’ Roman explained.

‘What happened to Godfrey, exactly?’

‘He fell down some stairs and broke his neck,’ Roman explained, leading me around the tables. The meal was over and people were mostly drinking and talking. Men outnumbered women by at least three to one. It said a great deal about woman’s place in this society when a man is more upset about the death of one of his lieutenants than about his wife being caught in bed with another man and then running
away. And let’s not forget it was the son who had killed his mother’s lover. The atmosphere had been much lighter last night.

‘Have
you seen Viktor since yesterday?’ I asked.

‘Yes, he brought food for you. And the tub.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘He is near.’

‘You can sense him?’ I asked eagerly, wanting to know as much as possible about Roman and what he is.

He chuckled.
‘I can see him. Over there.’

‘Oh.’

We had almost reached the dais, and as we wove our way across the room I had been observing the people in it, backing up my theory of the role and place of women here. Both sexes had glanced at me, some curious and some not, but all eyes had slid away quickly. They were hardly aware of my existence. I guessed it was a mixture of my gender and of being of no, or of very little, status. My clothing screamed peasant or servant, I had no family here to vouch for me, only Roman, and I had no idea where he came in the pecking order.

Roman:
now he had a totally different reaction. Most people, men as well as women, noticed him. Many pairs of eyes followed his progress towards Lord Brychan, and I tried to work out why. His appearance wasn’t out of place: he was dressed well, but not too well (considering he was supposed to be a bard), and although he was extraordinarily pale his shoulder-length black hair and black eyes blended in with the other Mediterranean types in the hall. In fact there was all manner of hair colour, from Roman’s glossy raven to the blonde of Lady Sibyl (there was another who hadn’t taken her eyes off Roman), and even ginger. Skin colour ranged from swarthy and weather-beaten to pale and freckled, although no one was as pale as Roman and Viktor. And of course Roman was gloriously handsome, walked like a movie star and had charisma by the bucket load. Plus he could sing and recite the old tales, holding us mere mortals spellbound as he did so. I wondered if I was seeing an early version of a pop star. They’d be asking for his autograph next.

‘Roman.’ Lord Brychan’s voice was deep and resonant.

Roman bowed his head. ‘My Lord.’

‘Come. Sit. The wome
n are about to retire and I need some company. My housekarls are squabbling amongst themselves, trying to impress me so I will give them Godfrey’s lands, now he has gone to meet his maker, may his soul rest in peace. Let them quarrel like dogs over a bone. It will do them no good. I will decide who will replace Godfrey in my own good time. For now, I would like some company, someone who does not wish to discuss husbands,’ he looked meaningfully at his daughters, rising from their chairs along with the women on the other tables, ‘or politics.’

Lord Brychan patted the
seat of a recently vacated chair next to him, and Roman, with a sharp look at me, sat. His face was unreadable.

‘Look at them.’ Sir Bernard was grumbling. ‘They gossip like old women at the well. It would not surprise me
to hear I am making you Godfrey’s successor. After all, you are sat at my table.’ He roared with laughter at his own wit.

His daughters were fluttering and fussing with their skirts and I watched the eldest one as she tried to catch Roman’s eye. He paid her no attention, keeping his
gaze locked on me.

‘For the love of all that is holy – go,’ Sir Bernard commanded
his daughters. ‘Leave me in peace. I want a tale of heroics and battle from my bard, and not your wittering.’

Sibyl, to my dismay, picked that moment to realise I existed, her face pinched and expression narrowed when she saw where Roman’s attention
was directed. She looked me up and down, a fleeting look which took in everything about me. I knew that type of look: it was the sort women everywhere used, a quick scan that checked out clothes, shoes, hair, make-up, nails, and that was all it took to make a snap judgement on the person we were looking at. In this instance she could only see my clothes and shoes, because my hair was covered and make-up was sadly absent. I was pretty sure Revlon hadn’t been around this long.

Her lip curled slightly and I could tell she wasn’t impressed with what she saw.

‘Grace,’ Roman warned. ‘Go and find somewhere to sit. I will come for you later.’

‘She can join us,’ Sibyl said, simpering at Roman, then glaring at me. ‘Come,’ she commanded imperiously, sweeping down the two steps to the floor, holding delicately onto the outstretched hand of a servant. Her sister followed. I merely stood rooted to the spot, wondering what I should do.

‘Come,’ she demanded. ‘I don’t want to have to tell you again.’

Oh excuse me, I thought. Roman shrugged his shoulder and indicated that I should go with her. I didn’t feel he had much choice. Great. I really didn’t want to spend time with a woman (albeit a young woman) with a princess complex. Roman didn’t look too happy, either
, and I hoped I wouldn’t get myself into any trouble tonight. Last night had been more than enough. I vowed to say as little as possible.