Wild Fire

  “If I gave one…yes.”

  Porbius paused, as if considering the possibility, then shook his head at Bastian. “Too risky. First Sebastian, then Ursula, now Gerhard. When our allies disappear or die, Andreas and his witch are always around.” He turned his focus back toward Andreas and flung down a challenge. “If you want to join us, tell me the truth about what happened to Ursula.”

  A deathly stillness hung over the street. Andreas kept his expression immobile. There was no part of the truth he could tell. “I have not asked to join you, but I would gladly tell you about Ursula if I had such knowledge. As I understand, her plane has not been seen since it left Toronto and is presumed to have gone down over the ocean.”

  Porbius’s face displayed blatant disbelief. “If she left Canada. And Gerhard? I know he went to Riverdale. Are you going to pretend ignorance of his fate too?”

  “Certainly not. Gerhard was killed in a shootout with local police, like any common criminal who kidnaps women.”

  Porbius shrugged. “Well, no one ever accused him of being subtle.”

  “I don’t suppose your witch was one of the local police,” Bastian added dryly.

  Andreas lifted a brow. “Your point? It is her responsibility to rid Riverdale of such vermin.”

  A twist of humor touched Bastian’s lips. “Just keeping the record straight,” he murmured.

  Without warning, Porbius planted himself bare inches from Andreas’s face, a surge of power making him appear larger, looming over the younger vampire. “My point is you and your witch are a problem. One that needs elimination.”

  Every nerve tingled. Andreas's witch magic and his vampire power flooded him with energy, but he would not precipitate the fight Porbius wanted. Andreas stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, presenting a picture of indifference. “I am sorry you feel that way. I’m not overly fond of you either.”

  Bastian’s sharp bark of laughter diverted Porbius’s attention.

  “You laugh now,” Porbius spat, “but we will see who is still amused at the end of the day.” He vanished into the shadows, his silhouette reappearing on the skyline.

  Andreas stared at the departing figure. “Levitation?”

  “Merely honed agility.” Bastian shook his head slowly. “You are brash and unyielding, Andreas. Qualities I can admire, but they will get you killed. You have a tenacious enemy in Porbius, and he has a strong reason to want you dead. You may wish you had accepted my protection.”

  “What strong reason?”

  Bastian’s eyes expressed genuine curiosity as he studied Andreas. “Did you not know? Porbius wants revenge. He is Ursula’s sire.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Emily’s open phaeton arrived at the inn in a swirl of dust and prancing horses. “Good morning,” she called gaily. “Don’t be worried. I am reputed to be a very respectable whipster. I have been driving since I was sixteen.”

  “Not worried at all.” Abigail lifted her skirts and climbed on board, not an easy task with such voluminous folds of material.

  When she was settled, Emily handed her a wide-brimmed hat from the back seat. It was trimmed with green ribbons. “I thought this would suit you. I know how it is to travel with only a bag or two, but we brought a dozen trunks. I have enough clothes to stay six months, and you need to shade your face.” Emily peered at her. “You have freckles from the sun. I have a cream that will lighten those, but at least we can prevent more. Please put it on,” she urged.

  Abigail sighed. Emily would continue to hound her if she didn’t, so she removed the comb with its scarf and replaced it with the hat. How Lilith would laugh if she saw her now. But Emily smiled with approval and whipped up the horses.

  “I asked Richard about Andreas De Luca this morning at breakfast.” Emily glanced at Abigail. “Would you like to know what he said?”

  Of course, she wanted to know. But was admitting it to Emily a good idea? She kept her eyes on the road. “Only if you want to talk about it. Remember, I haven’t met him, so…” She shrugged.

  “Richard couldn’t add much anyway, except he thinks Andreas is at home right now. Apparently his great-great-grandfather Fredrico is doing poorly. Auntie Marie wasn’t surprised. She says he’s unbelievably old.”

  Well, yeah, like 105. That’s old for a human in any time period. Abigail held onto her hat as a gust of wind threatened to carry it away. “Will they have a big, community funeral if he dies?”

  “Heavens, no! Why would you ask that?”

  “It’s often done in America. A notice is put up and everybody who wants to can go.”

  “How odd. The burial will include family, people who work for the estate, and close friends, I suppose. I can’t imagine who would go if they didn’t have to. But let’s not talk about it. The thought of dead bodies and possibly ghosts gives me the shivers.” She sat up straighter and pointed with one gloved hand. “That looks like a nice road. Where do you suppose it goes?”

  It was the private road that led to the De Luca estate.

  Abigail choked on a laugh. “Why Emily Farnsworth, I believe you’re up to something. I suspect it leads to the De Luca estate. Are you going to drive up to their house without an invitation?”

  “I can’t help it if I made a wrong turn, can I?” Emily flashed a mischievous smile and turned the carriage onto the drive. “Don’t pretend that you don’t want to go.”

  As the horses trotted smartly up the road, the young women came in sight of the house. Abigail spotted a single lone figure sitting in a wheelchair in the garden. Emily turned into the circular drive and pulled the horses to a halt.

  “Now what are you doing?” Abigail’s brows shot up as her friend started to climb down.

  “I’m going to ask for directions. Obviously we are lost.” Emily looked up at her with laughter in her eyes. “Are you coming?”

  Abigail grinned and hopped down. In another week, she’d never see these people again. It didn’t matter how many social rules she broke.

  She joined Emily, and they walked toward the garden. “Hello there,” Emily called.

  The snowy head lifted, and dark brown eyes, alive with intelligence, regarded them. “Are you angels come to collect an old man?” His accent was thick. Abigail wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, but Emily laughed and the old man smiled at his own humor.

  “What a sweet thing to say, but, no, I am afraid we’ve gotten lost.” Emily batted her eyes at him. “Can you direct us toward the village?”

  “If you will share an espresso with me.” His eyes twinkled.

  Emily looked at Abigail for confirmation.

  She nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.” Abigail couldn’t believe Emily had pulled this off. They were talking with the very man she’d come so far to see.

  “I agree that would be lovely,” Emily said. “I am Emily Farnsworth from London and this is my friend Abigail Foster from Boston in the American colonies.”

  “I have not had such lovely visitors in a long time.” He inched his fingers toward a bell that hung on his chair. It was a painful process to watch, but Abigail knew he wouldn’t welcome her help. He eventually reached his goal, and the door to the house opened promptly in answer to the bell’s ring.

  A manservant hurried toward them. “Si, signor.”

  “Manfred, we have guests. Please bring chairs and espresso for the lovely ladies.”

  “Si, signor.” Manfred bowed and left, giving the two women a cursory glance. He returned with chairs from the house, seated them, and left again.

  The old man bobbed his head. “London and Boston, eh? What are you doing in Tuscany?”

  Before either of them could answer, a deep voice drew their eyes to a tall, lean man approaching from the house. “I am delighted to see my great-papa has captured such charming guests for coffee.” He bowed toward each woman. “I am Andreas De Luca, and in case he has not made himself known to you, your host is Fredrico Valvano.”

  Abigail’s heart
leapt into her throat. Andreas. Dark, sexy, scrumptious as ever, with a deep suntan…and very much alive…truly alive. She nearly rose from her seat and threw herself into his arms, until she remembered where she was and that he wouldn’t know her. She flushed and looked away in confusion. Why hadn’t she considered how this would make her feel?

  Emily spoke up, filling what would have been an awkward silence. She inclined her head toward Andreas and gave him their names. He took her hand and kissed her gloved fingers. She dimpled prettily. “Signor Valvano has offered to rescue two damsels in distress. We are lost.”

  “Then I am most grateful for your poor sense of direction.” He smiled, the good humor reaching his dark brown eyes.

  He turned that heart-melting smile on Abigail, and she barely managed to extend her hand as expected. A vivid flashback occurred to a moonlight scene in Olde Town’s Goshen Park, where a similar introduction had resulted in a tiny nip on her palm. Today he gave the briefest of kisses to her fingertips. The contact flooded her body with warmth. She dropped her eyes before she gave herself away, but he paused and held her hand a second more than necessary.

  Then the moment was over. He retrieved the extra chair brought by a servant who’d followed him and sat across from them, next to Fredrico. “Coffee should be here shortly. Please continue whatever you were talking about before I interrupted.”

  “I had just asked our young friends why they were visiting our country,” Fredrico said.

  “I would love to hear the answer.”

  Emily launched into her story of how and why she and her brother came to stay with her aunt until their parents returned from visiting relatives in the north. She barely paused when the espresso was served and continued to tell them all about her aunt’s family. Apparently the De Lucas were acquainted with her cousin Teo. In fact, it turned out that Andreas was meeting with him later in the day.

  Abigail tried to pay attention to what Emily said, but it wasn’t easy to keep her eyes off Andreas. Her pulse kept up a rapid beat. She was stunned to realize that much of his charisma and the richness of his voice were due to his inherent personality and not to any vampire magic. It was both reassuring and exciting.

  Even in 1813 Andreas’s English was excellent, but she had known it would be. He had been educated and spent several years in England. In the last two hundred years, he had lost a little of the Italian lilt, added polish, maturity, and thousands of experiences, but this man before her appeared to be the same man she knew…and loved. She would have to be careful to keep her feelings hidden.

  “You are very quiet,” he said.

  She looked up. Everyone was looking at her.

  “I was just listening, and perhaps I was distracted by the magnificent view.” She waved a hand at the valley below them. “You must have spectacular sunsets.”

  His eyes met hers. “We do. You should return to see one.”

  “That would be fun,” Emily agreed. “I say, let’s have a late picnic.”

  Andreas leaned back in his chair, clearly amused by Emily’s enthusiasm. His eyes moved to Abigail. “Would you come?”

  “I…of course.” Was it going to be this easy to get back on the De Luca estate? She turned to Fredrico. “I hope you will also be there.”

  The old man chuckled. “Young people do not need an old man around, and the night air does not agree with me anymore.” He held out his hand and she gave him hers. He patted it with fingers that trembled with infirmity. “It was nice of you to ask.”

  Abigail still struggled with his accent. She thought she’d caught everything he’d said, but to cover any lapse, she just smiled. “I would love to talk with you again. Perhaps another day.”

  “Any time. You will be welcome.”

  Andreas watched this exchange in silence. Abigail couldn’t tell whether he approved or disapproved. Or if he was just trying to figure her out. She supposed they must appear to him as rather pushy young women…and maybe trying to catch an eligible bachelor. She raised a gloved hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. How ironic, when he was in fact already married to her…or would be.

  “Thank you for your hospitality.” Abigail stood, bringing Andreas to his feet. “I think we should go, so we don’t tire Signor Fredrico too much.”

  “Yes, I will be expected at home.” Emily rose, smoothed her skirts, and dimpled at Andreas. “So are we to have our picnic?”

  “By all means. Is tomorrow afternoon at 5:00 suitable? I will invite a friend or two. I hope you will do the same. At least your brother.” His gaze moved to Abigail. “If you truly desire to further my great-papa’s acquaintance, why don’t I pick you up at 3:00 while he can enjoy the garden in the heat of the day?”

  Her stomach did flip-flops. “I, um,” she shot a look at Emily who smiled sweetly at her. “I would like that.”

  “Then it is settled.” He escorted them to their phaeton, gave Emily explicit directions to town and handed them both up. Before he released Abigail’s hand, he gave her a smile that curled her toes. “Until tomorrow.”

  * * *

  They were barely out of sight of the casa when Emily giggled, then burst out laughing. “You have set your cap for him, haven’t you? I thought about having a go myself, but he was all eyes for you.”

  “Set my cap?”

  “You were flirting with him, and very successfully, I might add. It was very clever to pretend interest in his elderly relative.”

  “I wasn’t pretending,” Abigail protested. She pursed her lips. “I don’t think I said anything that could be called flirting.”

  “It wasn’t what you said. It was the way you looked at him.” Emily tossed her curls, then took a minute to control her team when they spooked at something beside the road. She darted a glance at Abigail’s flushed face. “Don’t be embarrassed. Andreas would make a wonderful catch.” She straightened in her seat. A cloud of dust announced the approach of another vehicle. “Oh, dear, that looks like the mail coach ahead. It must be later than I thought.” She loosened the reins and urged the horses to pick up their pace. “I can hardly wait for tomorrow.”

  When they arrived at the inn, Emily grabbed Abigail’s hand before she could get down. “At the picnic you have to tell me everything, every word, of your two hours alone with him.” She twinkled. “I wonder if he will try to kiss you.”

  “We just met.” Abigail’s pulse leapt. This felt like a first date. The uncertainty, the excitement. “Would it be proper?”

  “Of course not, silly. You would be considered very fast if you let him. Still…” Emily tapped her chin with one finger. “You being an American and all…” She giggled and shrugged. “I would be tempted.”

  Oh, yeah. So would she.

  * * *

  When she heard the inn’s clock sound three o’clock, Abigail descended to the lobby in the green gown, a white shawl draped over her arms. She carried Emily’s hat with the green ribbons in her hand. As she reached the last step, Andreas entered the inn’s front door.

  He took her breath away. Tight-fitting buckskin pants, tall gleaming boots and a dark blue jacket that showed off his strong shoulders. He held driving gloves in one hand, but he was bareheaded, his black hair tousled from the drive. A smile lit up his face as he strode briskly toward her.

  “I see you do not adhere to the feminine prerogative of being fashionably late.” He bowed and held out an arm to her.

  “I think it’s rude to keep people waiting. But I noticed you have your own rebellion against social fashion.”

  “The hat, you mean.” He glanced at her. “I hope you do not mind. Since returning to Italy I have quite gotten out of the habit of wearing one.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  Torre was holding his team of horses outside. Andreas flipped the boy a coin and helped Abigail into the light carriage.

  “This is nice. What is it?”

  “A curricle. Haven’t you seen them in Boston?”

  Oops. “Um, I guess I don’t pay att
ention. My family has a large carriage.” She hoped that would be sufficient to cover her obvious mistake.

  “They are quite popular in London. Many of the sporting set use them for racing. I simply prefer the way they handle,” he said.

  They made small talk on the early part of the drive with Andreas pointing out views or objects of interest. As they entered the De Luca lands, Andreas gave her a serious look. “Thank you for your kindness to Fredrico. I should warn you that his moods are not always mellow. His days are short, and he resents the inevitable. What he enjoys one day, he has no tolerance for the next.”

  “Understandable, I suppose. He seems quite old.” She knew exactly how old he was, but it was a logical comment for her to make.

  “One hundred five last birthday. A longer life than most.”

  The curricle pulled up to the house; they disembarked and strolled toward the garden.

  “I see great-papa is not out yet. Would you care to come inside while I get him?”

  “No, thank you. I believe I’ll admire the garden while I wait.” She gave him a raised eyebrow, wondering why he had asked. Emily had told her it was socially forbidden for her to enter a bachelor’s establishment unattended. Maybe he knew she’d refuse and was just making polite conversation. Of course, Emily had ruined the effect of her warning by adding that manners were more relaxed in the country. “So do as you like,” she’d said. “I wouldn’t mind having a few minutes alone with Andreas.”

  Although Abigail would love to get inside the house, it would be best at this stage to act as a properly brought up young lady. She’d make enough unintended mistakes that would have to be excused by her lax American manners.

  She’d only strolled part way around the flower beds when Andreas appeared with Fredrico. He parked the wheelchair in the shade of an olive tree at the edge of the garden.

  “Thank you for coming.” The old man smiled up at her. “You are a welcome sight. Your green eyes are quite remarkable.”