Born Into Love (5 page)

“You’re certainly the most humble.” A smile intensified the flashes of light in his eyes. She figured she’d better leave before his charm overpowered her. “Time to head home.”
She placed the linen napkin on the counter.

How had they reached her porch? She didn’t even have sand pricking her feet. He kissed her on the forehead. “Did you enjoy your adventure on the sea?”

“Yes. I forgot about the danger.”

He bowed. “Until tomorrow.”

When she rested against the closed door, Mercedes shook her head. Diego brought out something new in her--feelings tinged with more intensity than she’d ever handled. Intuition told her he had not wanted the evening to end. Neither had she.

In the bathroom mirror she checked her reflection expecting to see what? A giggly cliché? Gold sparkles in her eyes? She ditched her outfit for pink flannel pajamas and climbed into bed. She tucked the heavy cotton sheet around her as a comfort, but her mind stayed on the evening. Something about the yacht didn’t rest easy. The craft appeared beautifully decorated and plush, but the crew seemed strangely elusive, too quiet, like they weren’t there at all.

Chapter 3

“Master, time to rise.”

Waking required several seconds--a process that reminded him of removing veils. When the last slipped away, he opened his eyes. Yet, on some animal level he was always aware that his companion was standing by his marble pallet. “What is the hour?”

“Almost three in the afternoon, as you prefer. Your trip to the market and who knows what other activity drained you. Tonight I suggest you rehabilitate yourself with a quiet evening at home.”

He flung to the side the white silk sheet that served as his latest shroud, or “cover-up” according to Luz. She got away with being wild and uncompanion-like because years ago her village fed him. Without their sustenance, he would have crumbled into ashes, a result of carelessness on his part. Perhaps they shared their blood so that he would not kill. He would never know for certain, but at the time, he accepted the gesture and called it generosity.

When
he lived as a human, he was gallant and many women frolicked in his bed. Officially he and death met several months before the fall of Ciud’Ak an ancient city located below the
altiplano.
He did not want to die a vampire. What chance he had of altering his state, was unclear. But the will to effect the change burned within him.

His
physical urges were more demanding as a vampire and his abilities more formidable, but he could not engender life. A sadness, because at one time he wanted children and the laughter they brought. When he saw Annie and her growing womb he was happy for her and less so for himself. What must it be like for Annie to feel the child within and the quickening sensations he brought?

His
thoughts wound back to Mercedes and her concern for her sister. They loved each other as he and his brother loved. This ability was something he and Mercedes had in common—they knew the importance of family.

Luz opened a can falsely labeled “
Sopa de Tomates,
” tomato soup, packed from his hacienda. The scent of animal blood filled the room. His mouth contorted, fangs descended. The sounds that filled his sanctuary and tomb rivaled the snorting of a beast. As he had trained her, Luz turned her back. He gripped the bowl in both hands and fed. This nourishment did not register the same as having fresh bovine blood, but he survived on a combination of both.

Afterwards,
he dressed, strong enough to live another day and push out of his mind the horrific, primitive ritual that sent him so off course.

Luz tapped her espadrilled foot. “Have you forgotten?”

This game she played could be annoying. “Remind me.”

“Your enemy—-who invited himself last week--will be here within the hour.”

Remy. “He’s after something.”

Luz nodded. “He’s after you. He thinks you’re a tomb robber like himself. If ever a human needed to be liquidated, it’s Señor Procteur.”

“Not this century. Not by me.”

She tsked. “According to what I read about . . .persons like yourself, persons of the
noche sin fin,
you’re supposed to be blood-thirsty. You don’t fit the mold.”

Diego
pulled her against his body. “Should I, as a member of the ‘night without end,’ sink fangs into your throat?”

Her eyes watered with fear. “No, Master.”

“Good. Something tells me you would not be a tasty wench.”

She smiled with relief. “You were kidding.”

“Maybe.” From time to time he confronted her because at heart, she was wilder than he was.

The doorbell chimed. Luz smirked. “He’s leaning on the button just like he did at the Manhattan duplex.”

“He is a gnat that needs swatting. Nevertheless, admit him
por favor
. He suspects me of many evil deeds and he is not entirely wrong.”

Luz curtsied low in front of Remy playing at being obsequious. Even if he learn
ed some of Diego’s secrets, he would never stumble upon Diego’s real identity. Who in this century would believe in a vampire?

Luz yelled from the foyer setting off an echo. “Procteur’s here.”
Diego smiled. Her maid-like behavior had been short-lived. Lured to a niche holding black glazed pottery, all well done but not artifacts, his visitor scanned them unaware that Luz stood behind him drawing a line across her throat marking him for removal.

Diego
escorted his guest into the sunroom--another way to measure if quenching his thirst with animal blood made him less susceptible to the rays. Today, like thousands of other days, success proved elusive. Were it not for modern creams, special clothing treated with concoctions made by Luz, and uniquely treated glass in sections of the house, the rays would pain him akin to a harpy’s talons scraping his bones.

“Remy. Good of you to warn me you would be in the area.”

“Am I noted for goodness?”

“Possibly in some circles.” Not in the much-perused archives where he tried to steal several Spanish galleon manifests. Never would he be so forthright as to spend hours reading and taking notes like ot
her treasure seekers. How he had avoided jail was a mystery. Bribery and threats ranked high on the list. “What can I do for you?”

“How’s the exhibit? I hear you’re displaying new items, something of a surprise.”

What was he talking about?

“A reliable source told me Luz sent a special crate.” He waved his hand in the air like a magician might to distract his audience. “I haven’t been misled. Tell me about these mystery pieces, Diego. I hate to wait.” He raked his fair hair with a manicured hand. His fingers sported new rings. One, a ruby that
Diego was sure came from a cache of jewels recently available in India.

“Anticipation is part of the museum experience.”

Remy strode around the room, playfully sniffed several of the blossoming plants. “Must be dead out here during the week. How do you stand it?”

“I enjoy peace and solitude. There are other pleasures than bouncing around Manhattan clubs.”

He studied one of the plants. The rare fascination lasted seconds. He refocused on Diego. “Can’t understand why you’re returning your collections. If you wanted to get rid of them, you should have sold them to me.”

Motion on the dune drew
their attention. Remy pressed his nose against the glass, leaving a greasy smear. He rubbed his hands together. “And who’s the babe kicking sand about her trim ankles?”

If
Diego’s heart could have moved, it would have spiraled down into the sea faster than a zodiac on a coral reef. Mercedes wore a black two-piece bathing suit, very modest compared to the swimwear he’d seen in Brazil or the Riviera, but her anatomy showed to its advantage. A few yards of gauzy material, tied with sufficient skill to stay in place, skirted her long, appealing legs. Her feet were bare. She had thrown a purple beach towel over one shoulder. He wished she were wrapped in a blanket.

Remy snickered. “Peace and solitude. What a crock.”

She must have felt their hungry eyes. She lifted a shapely arm and waved. Closer now, crimson tinted her cheeks. Her hair hung loose, a few strands lifted as the breeze rushed to her. Exactly what he felt like doing. Remy licked his thick lips. According to Luz and she was unable to lie to him, Procteur was a dung heap. Rumors of ugly physical abuse circulated among his former women.

When
Diego peered into his pale eyes, he saw a shallow, envious creature more ravenous than himself when the thirst rises.

Diego
signaled Mercedes to enter through the French doors of the sunroom. Remy removed his sport jacket. Diego suspect Remy knew the expensive blue shirt would play well with his eyes and his light tan. Would Mercedes prove susceptible? He did not want to add the pathetic addendum of “or will she stick with me?” But obviously, the thought crossed his mind.

He
made the introductions. Mercedes cocked her head and looked at his guest, but did not extend her hand.

“Remy Procteur,” she repeated. “The treasure hunter?”

He bowed and snaked his eyes toward Diego. “In the flesh.” Something disturbing hid in the deliberateness of his speech. Of his humanity, yes, Diego was jealous. Of his seedy nature, he was not.

“So, Diego, this is why you find the beach so enticing.”
Remy’s watery gaze lingered too long on Mercedes. Her hand fisted and her assessing eyes glinted with anger. She looked beautiful.

“What kind of work do you do, Mercedes?”

He said her name as if he wanted to claim it for salvage.

“I’m interning at the Pascuas Museum in Manhattan as a fledgling. Before that, I worked as a broker.”

He grinned, resembling a wolf more than Diego ever could. “You’ve started?”

“Tomorrow.” She gave a charming nervous laugh. “I’m looking forward to meeting and working with the staff. Doing their bidding, actually.”

“If you need anything, call me. I’m in the book. I have connections there.”

Diego
stepped in. “No need. I’m on the board.” Remy ignored his comment, but Mercedes squared her shoulders not about to let either one of them get the upper hand.

“Gentlemen, I don’t anticipate problems. I’m conscientious and I intend to do a good job. If I have any questions, I’ll ask the curator. She seems very approachable.”

Remy laughed. “Say no more! I’m convinced. Will you live in Manhattan?”

Mercedes shook her head. “Eventually, but not now. When the summer’s over, I’ll find an apartment.”

His eyes widened. “You’re commuting?”

Diego
moved alongside her perhaps to fool Remy into thinking they formed a solid front. “She will be traveling with me.” He took her arm, and felt smugly pleased when she did not jump away. Even her fists unclenched. He refocused on Remy. “Thanks for the visit, but as you can see, I have another engagement. We will continue our chat at the exhibit opening night.”

Remy rolled
athletic shoulders. “Wouldn’t miss it.” He paused at the threshold of the home. “Maybe next time we can all go for a swim.”

Luz, sulking, escorted him to his limousine.
Diego brought Mercedes into the largest of the enclosed gardens. Rows of strategically placed outer shrubs hid it from the beach and the paved country road that passed the front of their houses. “There is something I want you to see.” She followed him into the conservatory where the contents of the sheltered area did all the talking.

“So many orchids!” She walked through a row. “Different sizes
in wonderful colors.” Her expression reinforced her delight. “They’re spectacular.”

She moved to the tiny orchid
he’d glimpsed in an Andean
quebrada,
a crevice. “It’s a blend of purple and periwinkle. Stunning.”

“That is what I thought.”

“Did you raise it?”

“No. I am not a professional.
La Desconocida,
the orchid’s name, is shipped from a botanical company in South America.”

“The Unknown Woman.”

“Your grasp of Spanish pleases me.”

“I’ll be better when I memorize the dictionary.”

The tropical temperature in the room brought a coat of moisture to her skin. “Let’s refresh ourselves in the pool.”

* * *

As enjoyable as the orchids were, Mercedes sensed she’d arrived at the wrong time—-that Diego’s visitor had not been a friend. “Did I interrupt a meeting?”

She and Diego paused in front of the huge white marble staircase. “No.”

“I got the feeling Mr. Procteur fancies hunting or just plain snooping.” She looped the long beach towel around her neck to cover her. Instantly she felt more comfortable. She should have done that before Remy tried to devour her. “Maybe I should have worn more clothes.”