“Fixed everything?” Caroline climbed to her feet to face her sister, plagued by a sudden tingle of foreboding. If memory served her right, the last time Vivienne had fixed something, her own favorite yarn doll had ended up with three legs and no hair.
“I decided it was time to put everything right. You’ve been looking after me for all of these years. Now it’s my turn to look after you.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Vivienne lifted her chin with all the haughtiness of the viscountess she would never become. “I informed Lord Trevelyan that he had behaved in a shameful and disgraceful manner toward the both of us and there was only one way for a true gentleman to make amends.”
Caroline could barely choke out the words. “And what was that?”
“He is to marry you as soon as possible.”
Caroline collapsed on the ottoman, her knees betraying her. “No wonder he looked as if all the hounds of hell were pursuing him.” She blinked up at her sister through a daze of disbelief. “Oh, Vivienne, what have you done?”
Vivienne blinked back at her, still looking unbearably smug. “Isn’t it obvious? I made it possible for both of us to marry the men we loved.”
“But you know that Constable Lark—Alastair—wants to marry you. Did the viscount give you any indication that he feels the same way about me?”
“We-e-e-e-ell…” Vivienne chewed on her lower lip. Unlike Portia, she had never been a particularly accomplished liar. “He didn’t seem completely resistant to the idea of making you his bride. He might have been a little reluctant at first, but once I reminded him of his duty to you, he was quite congenial.”
Burying her face in her hands, Caroline groaned.
“Besides,” Vivienne continued, “it’s not as if he has any choice. He compromised you in the great hall for all the world to see.” She pressed a hand to her breast, her voice climbing to a pitch dangerously near Aunt Marietta’s. “Personally, I’ve never witnessed such a shocking display of decadence! One would have thought the two of you were on the Lover’s Walk at Vauxhall. Now that he’s sent the guests packing without so much as a by-your-leave, the gossip will be all over London by tomorrow.”
“And what do you think the gossips will say when the viscount weds the wrong sister? What will they say when they hear whispers that he was forced into wedlock against his will? This may come as a shock to your tender sensibilities, but not all men are as noble as your Alastair. A man like Adrian Kane is perfectly capable of wanting to bed a woman without having any intention of wedding her.”
“Not when that woman is my sister!”
Caroline blew out an exasperated sigh. “You’re missing the point. How can I wed him knowing that he’s only marrying me because you’re holding a pistol of propriety to his head?”
Vivienne frowned. “I don’t think a pistol will be necessary, but I can ask Alastair if you like. I’m sure he has one.”
This time it wasn’t a sigh, but a shriek of frustration that escaped Caroline’s lips. The library door flew open, framing a wild-eyed Larkin. He had obviously expected to find her and Vivienne rolling around on the Turkish carpet, spitting epithets and pulling each other’s hair.
As Larkin’s gaze caressed Vivienne’s face, a flush stained his high cheekbones. “Forgive the intrusion, Miss Vivienne. I was afraid you were in some sort of distress.”
Clasping her hands in front of her, Vivienne rewarded him with her most adoring smile. “Not any more, sir, now that you’re here.”
Larkin’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t have looked any more dumbfounded had she clubbed him over the head with the fire iron.
His baffled gaze traveled between the two of them, finally settling on Caroline. “Are you quite all right, Miss Cabot? You look as if someone just walked over your grave.”
“Well, that’s fitting, isn’t it? Haven’t you heard?” Caroline sagged against the hearth, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling from her throat. “I’m marrying a vampire hunter.”
The servants hadn’t been able to locate Julian after the ball because he was perched between two merlons on the parapet walk that ringed the highest battlement of the castle. He knew there was only one person who would think to look for him there so he didn’t even bother to turn around when he heard a footfall behind him.
He and Adrian had spent hours in this very spot as boys, playing at Vikings and Crusaders and pirates. The meadows and glades surrounding the castle had been both their battlefields and their oceans. In the brash eyes of their imaginations, a farmer’s wagon trundling over the rutted road below had become a Saracen’s exotic caravan guarded by dark-eyed, saber-wielding warriors while the farmer’s swayback nag and flea-bitten old hound were transformed into an Arabian steed and a fierce pack of wolves that would storm the castle, howling for their blood. Back then, their invisible enemies could be vanquished with nothing more than a thunderous war cry and a solid thwack from a wooden stick. Julian tipped the bottle of champagne in his hand to his lips, wishing for those simpler days.
Tonight the rutted road below was dotted with the light of swaying carriage lamps. Their guests were departing one by one, taking the last of Julian’s hopes with them.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian said softly, stopping just behind him to watch the lights fade into the darkness. “I wanted to let her go through with it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not even for you.”
“If I had even half a soul, I wouldn’t have asked you to,” Julian said with a shrug.
“I refuse to believe that using Eloisa’s ghost to lure him back was our last hope.”
Julian snorted. “It might have been our only hope.”
“I swear to you that we’ll find another way. I’ll find another way. I just need a little more time.”
Julian turned to give his brother a crooked smile. “Time is the one thing I have in abundance. I can give you an eternity if that’s what you require.”
Even as he said the words, Julian knew he was bluffing. His time had been running out for a very long while now, his humanity trickling out of him like grains of sand from a cracked hourglass.
Adrian touched his shoulder ever so briefly, then turned to go.
“Adrian?”
His brother turned back, and for just an instant Julian saw the ghost of a younger Adrian superimposed over his face.
“If I had a blessing to give the two of you, I would.”
Adrian nodded before melting back into the shadows.
Julian turned his face to the wind, welcoming its stinging lash. The night should have been his realm, his kingdom to rule. Yet here he sat, trapped between two worlds, two fates, with only a bottle of flat champagne to ease the hunger gnawing at the place where his soul had once resided.
He was tilting the bottle to his lips when the chain came out of nowhere, snaking around his throat with savage force. The bottle slipped from his fingers, shattering against the stones. Julian clawed at the heavy links, fighting their choking pressure, but his supernatural strength seemed to be waning, slipping away like the petals of a dying rose.
His eyes bulging, he glanced down just in time to see the silver crucifix dangling from the end of the chain burn its way through his shirt and into his chest. The stench of charred flesh flooded his nostrils.
Even as he fought to croak out a bellow of pain and rage, a hoarse whisper filled his ear. “You shouldn’t have lied to your brother that way, mon ami. Your time just ran out.”
As Duvalier yanked him to his knees with brutal efficiency, all Julian could think was that it was a damn shame Adrian might never know that their plot had succeeded.
Chapter Twenty
“While I realize that my sister had only my best interests at heart and I appreciate your willingness to conform to the demands of propriety, my lord,” Caroline said, her tones both cool and measured, “by outlining each of my arguments in considerable depth, I think I’ve made it perfectly clear why I have no choice but to refuse your suit
.” She finished her speech with her head held high and her hands clasped in front of her—the very model of reason and common sense.
At least that’s what she hoped. Since she had no one to listen to her well-rehearsed speech and was only able to judge her appearance by the wavering reflection in the French doors of her bedchamber, it was difficult to tell. Although she’d lit every candle in the tower upon her return from the library, the inky blackness of the night beyond the doors leached all of the definition from her image, leaving it as misty as a ghost’s.
A sharp gust rattled the doors, making her jump. The wind had risen steadily for the past few hours, sending more clouds scuttling over the luminous face of the moon. The flickering glow of the candles made it impossible to track the shadows flitting across her balcony.
Somewhere deep in the castle a clock began to chime the midnight hour, each hollow bong resonating through Caroline’s frayed nerves. She wanted nothing more than to strip off Eloisa’s cursed gown, bound into the bed, and draw the blankets up over her head. But she forced herself to move toward her ghostly image in the French doors, to reach down and methodically check to make sure they were unbolted.
As the moments ticked away, fresh doubts began to creep into her consciousness. Perhaps Adrian wasn’t coming. Perhaps he blamed her for ruining his plot to trap and destroy Duvalier. Perhaps he was so unhappy at the prospect of being forced to wed her that he was regretting every moment they’d shared—every touch, every kiss.
Caroline began to restlessly pace around the bed. He could hardly blame her for forcing him into marriage when he had been the one to compromise her in front of half of the ton. He was the one who had taken her devotion to her sisters and wielded it like a weapon, she thought, growing more incensed by his unfairness with each step.
She had no intention of spending the rest of her life pacing her bedchamber and longing to hear her husband’s footstep on the stairs. If he wouldn’t come to her, then by God, she would go to him.
She was turning toward the doors when they came flying open. She caught the briefest glimpse of a man silhouetted against the darkness before the wind whipped through the tower, extinguishing all of the candles with a single breath.
She held her own breath, waiting for the clouds to shift again. Waiting for a single bright lance of moonlight to gild his hair and bathe the rugged planes of his face.
It was the face of the warrior in the portrait. And he had come for her. Caroline took an involuntary step backward, her courage deserting her. The uncompromising black of Adrian’s shirt and trousers perfectly suited his grim visage. The more distant and unapproachable he appeared, the more her treacherous heart seemed to yearn for him.
“I’m surprised you didn’t bolt the doors,” he said.
“Would it have kept you out?”
“No,” he admitted, taking a single step toward her.
“Then perhaps you have more in common with your ancestors than you realize.”
“I tried to warn you that they were all scoundrels and reprobates, didn’t I? I’m sure they stole and ravished more than one bride in their day.”
Caroline’s outrage at his arrogance sent all of her well-rehearsed speeches flying right out of her head. “While you and my sister were deciding my future in such a high-handed manner, did it never occur to either of you that I might wish to be consulted?”
“I don’t see that you have any choice in the matter. Your good reputation is in ruins. No decent man will ever offer for your hand.”
Caroline wondered why he was so quick to place himself among the ranks of the indecent.
“As I see it,” he continued, “you have only two possible futures. You can become my wife.” The smoky note in his voice deepened. “Or you can become my mistress…with all of the inherent duties that come with the privilege.”
Refusing to blush, Caroline lifted her chin. “As I see it, a wife has exactly the same duties. She just isn’t usually compensated for them with flowers and jewels.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you want from me? Roses? Diamonds?”
Caroline bit her lip before she could blurt out what she wanted from him. She wanted him to touch her again with shattering tenderness. She wanted long, melting kisses in the moonlight. She wanted him to press his lips to her hair and call her his darling.
“I don’t want anything from you,” she lied. “My sister made it abundantly clear that you were only marrying me out of duty. Well, this isn’t Vauxhall and I won’t have you playing the champion on my behalf. I don’t need to be rescued and I won’t become just another one of your strays. I have no use for your pity. My reputation may be in ruins, but I still have my pride.”
“Your sister was absolutely right,” he agreed. “Marrying you is the last thing I want to do.”
An unbidden gasp escaped from Caroline’s lips. She might have suspected him of many things in the past, but she had never judged him capable of deliberate cruelty.
“I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to want you,” he added fiercely, taking one measured step toward her, then another. “And I sure as hell don’t want to love you. But, God help me, I just can’t stop myself.” Closing the rest of the distance between them in a single stride, he snatched her up by the shoulders, his burning gaze searching her face as if to sear her features into his memory. “I don’t want to marry you because I love you too much to ask you to spend the rest of your life hiding in the shadows.”
Her heart brimming over with some new and wondrous emotion, Caroline touched a hand to his cheek. “I’d rather spend the rest of my days living in the shadows with you than walking in the sunlight all alone.” As the chains of her pride fell away, Caroline whispered, “Will you marry me?”
Adrian’s lips descended on hers, giving her the only answer she would ever need. He caressed the silken corners of her mouth, growing more insistent, more persuasive, with each tender sweep of his tongue. Without breaking the kiss, he swept her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed no more than a child.
As he started for the doors, she murmured against his lips, “Where are you taking me?”
He only tightened his possessive grip. “To my bed. Where you belong.”
As Adrian carried her down the steps and across the bridge, his body sheltered her from the battering force of the wind. The windows below were darkened now. There were no prying eyes to witness their journey. Caroline curled her arms around Adrian’s neck and buried her face against the warmth of his throat, breathing deeply of his sandalwood and bay rum scent.
She was still shyly nuzzling his neck when he set her on her feet. She had half expected him to tumble her right into his bed, but she opened her eyes to find herself standing at the foot of it, in front of the tall, silk-draped piece of furniture that had captured her curiosity on her last visit to his chamber.
Adrian strode back over to the French doors to rip down the heavy velvet drapes that veiled them, inviting the moonlight into his lair.
As silent as a shadow, he slipped up behind her. He plucked the rose from behind her ear and crumpled the velvety petals between his fingers, releasing their heady fragrance. As they drifted to the floor, he tugged away the satin demi-turban, freeing her hair to spill around her shoulders in a silken waterfall. Lifting its luxuriant weight from her nape, he pressed his lips there, sending an exquisite shudder of pleasure down her spine. As his arm slipped around her waist to steady her, she could feel the heat from his body radiating through her every pore.
Twining her hair around his hand, he exposed the long, elegant curve of her throat. “You were right about me all along, you know,” he said, the smoky whisper of his voice a caress all its own. “From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted nothing more than to devour you where you stood.” His lips sought the throbbing pulse at the side of her throat, parting to soothe the very spot he had nipped only the night before. “I wanted to drink from your lips. I wanted to sample the softnes
s of your skin.” His mouth moved to her ear, the husky urgency of his voice pouring over her starved senses like molten honey. “I wanted to taste every drop of nectar your sweet flesh has to offer.”
His lips traced her ear, lingering against the tender lobe. As the velvet warmth of his tongue plundered the delicate shell, an answering pulse of pleasure between her thighs dampened her drawers and made her knees go weak. Her eyes fluttered shut as she sagged against the hard length of his body, feeling as limp and pliable as a rag doll in his hands.
She felt him reach around her and suddenly knew exactly what was beneath that shroud of silk. She kept her eyes pressed tightly shut, some fanciful corner of her soul still afraid that she would open them and discover that she was cradled in the invisible arms of a demon lover she had neither the strength nor the will to resist.
She heard the ripple of silk as the drape drifted to the floor.
“Look at me, darling,” Adrian urged. “Look at us.”
Helpless to resist his entreaty, Caroline obeyed, only to find herself gazing into the luminous eyes of the man she loved. Adrian’s reflection in the gilded cheval glass was as solid as her own, binding them together with far more than just his tender embrace. For the first time in her life Caroline was shocked by her own reflection. It wasn’t the shimmering tulle of her gown or the moonlit curtain of hair flowing over her shoulders that made her beautiful. It was the raw desire in Adrian’s eyes.
“Oh my,” Caroline breathed, turning in his arms.
Adrian did tumble her into the bed then, groaning her name deep in his throat as they rolled across the silk sheets until she was beneath him and he was looming over her in the darkness. As his mouth came down on hers and her arms went around him, she savored the wonder of being in his arms. He would never belong to Vivienne or to any other woman. From this moment on, he was all hers.