Fallen Embers (21 page)

“My lord! My lord!” a voice shouted urgently as the door was thrown open. “My lord Kendrick!” Breathless with excitement, the young-looking man approached the hearth. He stopped when he caught sight of Conrad and eyed him warily.

“What is it, Gerald?” Kendrick inquired.

“We've caught a spy, my lord. One of Rupert's people—a woman. She walked in through the gate, bold as brass, and is out there even now, demanding to talk with ye.”

“She wants to talk to me?”

“Aye, my lord. I told Rolf we should stake her through the heart and be done with her, but the she-devil laughed and invited us to try it if we thought we could. I think Rolf is scared of her, for he insisted we should tell you about it instead.”

Kendrick spat upon the ground. “Bah! I'll have naught to do with her. Send her back to the devil from whence she came!”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Hold!” Conrad ordered. He turned to Kendrick. “What sort of spy would announce her presence so openly? Is it not more likely she comes bearing a message? Why would you not hear her out?”

“I have my reasons,” Kendrick replied darkly. “Though it occurs to me that this decision is not mine to make. What does my lord advise?”

“I would hear what she has to say.”

“My lord!” Gerald protested. “No! You cannot allow her entrance. She's
Invitus
.”

“Silence!” Kendrick nodded toward Conrad. “This is Quintano. Master of this House. You had best hope he'll be forgiving you your rudeness. Now tell me something, did the wench ask for me by name?”

Gerald's eyes grew wide. His brow creased in doubt and confusion. “B-by n-name? Why, no, my lord. She just said she'd come to talk to my master. I just assumed…”

Kendrick nodded. “As I thought.” He arched a brow and turned to Conrad. “Well, my lord?”

Conrad fixed Gerald with a stern gaze and ordered, “Show her in.”

Chapter Twelve

“Do you anticipate trouble?” Conrad inquired as he and Kendrick waited for Gerald to return with their “guest”. Conrad had already sheathed his sword, but Kendrick's knife was still in his hand.

Kendrick shrugged. “Why put oneself at a disadvantage? There is naught to be gained by relaxing one's guard too soon. She may be a messenger, as she claims. She may just as easily be an assassin.”

“If she is, she will die,” Conrad replied. “But I know something of what it is to be a messenger at these gates. I do not wish to repeat my predecessor's errors.”

“Or share in his fate, I'll warrant,” Kendrick said with a spark of reluctant humor.

“Indeed,” Conrad agreed. Then a new thought occurred to him. Vaguely, he recalled Georgia's warnings. “I am curious. What manner of reception might I expect when I approach Rupert on the morrow? Will there be other ‘Geralds' there, seeking to end me before e'er I reach Rupert's hall? It seems messengers are accorded far too little respect in this land.”

Kendrick sighed. “Gerald is a fool. He would have found himself dead many times over by now had he been allowed to act on his own impulses. It is lucky for him that Rolf has a cooler head and helps keep him in check. As to the rest, I do not know what will happen on the morrow. I think it unlikely you will be attacked, but if you're concerned and would prefer to send one of us to plead your case, I volunteer myself.”

“I do not prefer it,” Conrad replied coolly. “I will fight my own battles. I only ask so that I might be prepared.”

Kendrick's brow knit as he considered. “As far as I'm aware, there are not many among Rupert's people who need worry you. Very few are skilled warriors. Indeed, most of them, unless they are ordered to fight you, will likely do whatever they can to avoid attracting your attention. As to the others, those more likely to pose a challenge, I doubt Rupert would be willing to risk too many of them, for they are the source of much of his strength. Were you to kill them, it would empower you and leave Rupert diminished. On balance, therefore, I believe you will be welcomed most courteously. It is in his best interests to hear what you have to say. And who knows? He may even wish to form an alliance with you.”

Conrad shook his head. “Then he will be disappointed.”

Once again, sounds filtered in from the corridor beyond. Footsteps. A brief scuffle. The ringing sound of flesh striking flesh. Followed by Gerald's muttered oath and then a woman's voice, low and furious. “I have warned you once already to keep your hands to yourself. Touch me again and you shall lose that hand—I promise.”

Conrad stiffened in surprise. That voice! It had to be imagination—a similarity in accent and tone and his own guilty thoughts combined—but it sounded so much like Georgia that his heart was wrung with longing.

Then the door was thrust open and the woman herself appeared. Cloaked and hooded, she swept boldly into the room, while Gerald slouched in behind her with the imprint of her hand still red on his face. Beside Conrad, Kendrick shuddered in sudden anger. “What mischief is this?” He took a step forward, his hand raised. “That's far enough.”

The woman halted obligingly. “I bid you good evening, Uncle,” she murmured in lilting tones that caused Conrad's breath to stall. Then she pushed back her hood to reveal golden hair and twinkling blue eyes and the very face that had haunted his dreams for centuries. Her eyes found his. Her smile grew bright—wider, warmer, more genuine. “
And
my lord Quintano. How very pleased I am to see you looking so well.”

Conrad tried to reply, only to find his mouth had dropped open in astonishment. “How?” he demanded as he strode across the room to where she stood. Taking her by the waist, he lofted her into the air, still staring at her incredulously and repeating the same question over again, “How? How is this possible?”

Georgia threw back her head and laughed in delight as he swung her around in a circle. Her hands clutched at his arms, her touch reassuringly real. After a moment, she sobered. “Put me down, good sir,” she murmured, cheeks flushed with heat. “Before you embarrass us in front of these others. We are not alone after all.”

Conrad returned her feet to the ground immediately, but he kept his hands clasped tight around her waist. “Georgia…all these years…I thought you
dead
!”

Tears sparkled in her eyes as she raised a hand to frame his face. “As did I you—for so, so long.”

A soft noise at his back recalled Conrad to his surroundings. He turned to find Kendrick eyeing him warily. “My lord?”

“Is there a chamber somewhere about that I might make use of?” Conrad demanded impatiently.

Kendrick blinked in surprise. “A…a chamber?”

“Yes. I wish to speak privately with…” Georgia's earlier words registered and Conrad glanced at her quickly in confusion before returning his gaze to Kendrick. “Your…niece?”

“I see.” Kendrick's voice was toneless, his expression grim and hopeless. “Yes, my lord. There is a room at the far end of the corridor.” He indicated the direction with a nod. “It is rarely used anymore. Perhaps that will suffice?”

As he spoke, Kendrick's gaze drifted furtively toward the hearth. His hand shook with suppressed emotion. Conrad swore softly. If he did not do something to avert it, he suspected the next hour would likely see the entire household slaughtered and the building in flames.

Conrad gave Georgia's hands a quick squeeze. “Just give me one moment,” he said. Then he stalked back across the room to where Kendrick stood.

“I
will
ensure the safety of this nest,” Conrad said, pitching his voice low, so that only Kendrick could hear him. “Is that understood? This changes
nothing
between us.” It had changed everything else, however. Joy sang in Conrad's veins. Georgia—alive! It was a miracle.

“Yes, my lord,” the older man replied, visibly mocking him. “Of course.”

Conrad growled. “I have given you my word. But perhaps the word of an
Invitus
is not enough for you, is it?”

Kendrick made no answer.

“Very well then. Since we are both unable to trust one another, I am left with no choice.”

Kendrick stiffened as Conrad seized him by the shoulders. Allowing the power to rise within him, Conrad focused his intention upon the other man's mind, and bent him to his will.

“As your master, I hereby forbid you to cause harm to any member of this household—yourself included—or to do damage to anything else that belongs to me. Nor shall you allow someone else to do so in your stead. Indeed, I will go even further. Were you even to suspect that such damage was likely to occur, I charge you to do everything in your power to prevent it. Am I understood?”

Conrad could feel the internal struggle the other man waged. He waited patiently, well aware what the outcome must be.

Eventually, Kendrick's will gave way. “Aye,
Master
,” he answered in a voice that was barely audible, thick with despair and impotent fury. “I hear and I obey.”

Conrad sighed. He despised the need for such coercion. “I know there is nothing I can say now that will convince you,” he said as he gave Kendrick's shoulders a gentle shake. “But only wait and see. I shall
not
fail you.”

Conrad turned reluctantly away. He returned to where Georgia was waiting for him and took hold of her hand. “Come with me.”

Just before they reached the door, Conrad paused. “You. Gerald,” he said, addressing the younger vampire who still stood there, frozen in wide-eyed confusion. “Douse that fire.” Conrad nodded toward the hearth. “It pleases me not.”

“It's good to see you again, my friend,” Georgia said once they found themselves alone.

Conrad turned away from the door he'd just bolted to find her smiling warmly at him. The sight of her, alive and well, took his breath away. Still, he shook his head reproachfully as he crossed to where she stood. “It is
beyond good
to see you. But, surely, we did not used to call each other ‘friend'?”

“Did we not?” Georgia's gaze slid away from his. For all that she allowed him to take her into his arms, and then stood uncomplaining within his embrace, there was a rigidity to her stance that did not feel like acquiescence. “Indeed, it saddens me to hear you say so. For I'd hoped always to count you as a friend.”

“You may count on me for
anything
,” Conrad promised, doing his best to ignore the odd tension that was rising between them, as though the beasts that dwelled within each of them were circling each other, sizing one another up, searching for some weakness to exploit. “And I shall always be your friend. But, make no mistake. I shall never cease from wanting to be
more
than friends—as once we were.”

As he spoke, he twisted one hand into her hair to anchor her in place. Then, he lowered his mouth to her neck. A swift bite, a rush of venom and her body spasmed against him. She was breathing hard when he let her go. But at least the awful trembling had stopped.

“Ah, that's more like I remember.” Smiling in satisfaction, he feasted his eyes on the sight of her—the startled look in her darkened eyes, the slight flush on her cheeks, the fangs that gleamed between her parted lips.

Georgia snarled softly. “More,” she repeated, her expression changing to one of desire. “Yes. I, too, remember.” Then she leaned in close and claimed his neck as well.

Conrad groaned in response to the sharp, delicious pain, the building pressure, the searing heat as it roared through his veins. A slight taste of her lingered still on his tongue, releasing a flood of memories. How long had it been since he'd known this kind of joy?

He thought he'd been living his highest truth, honoring her memory, and living each day to the fullest. And yet, how could he have done so? It was clear to him now that he'd walled off his heart, when he'd lost her, to spare himself pain. At best, he'd been living half a life.

“Ah, Georgia. What sorcery has conjured you here?” He lifted her into his arms and quickly carried her across the room. “I'd swear I was dreaming,” he said as he set her down on the edge of the long wooden table. “Were it not for the fact my dreams have never been so pleasant.”

Smiling playfully, Georgia lay back upon the table's oaken surface. “Come to me then. Surely, there must be some way by which we might prove to each other that we do not dream?”

She looked so beautiful lying there. Her hair had come loose; it fanned across the wood like a sea of flame. Her face was flushed, her lips red, and small rivulets of blood continued to seep from the wounds on her neck. The delectable scent filled the air, teasing and burning within him, feeding his hunger, driving him mad.

Unless he was mad already? In a lifetime filled with impossibilities, where unimaginable horror had become commonplace, how could he trust this miracle to be real?

He braced his palms upon the table and caged her between his arms. Leaning in, he ravished her mouth, then her neck using lips and teeth and tongue. He groaned weakly, his knees on the verge of giving way when, after a moment, she began to do the same to him. Then, by unspoken agreement, they both went to work, freeing each other from their clothes, discovering more flesh to taste and tease, more skin to score with their fangs.

Finally, Georgia wrenched her mouth free of him. She hooked her legs behind his thighs and urged him close. “Now,” she ordered in breathless tones. “Take me now.”

Conrad reared back in alarm. His control was slipping—he could feel it in the sizzle of his blood, the tension in his bones. He could no longer differentiate between man and monster. As both sides of his nature warred within him, he could no longer find the line that kept them separate. Both sides sought to dominate. Both were eager to claim this prize that had been set before them. He would not be ordered about, not by anyone. And yet…he wanted nothing more than to give in to all her demands.

They gazed at each other for a long moment. Georgia watched him through slitted eyes. Then very deliberately she tipped back her head and bared her throat. And, just like that, the contest was decided.

Conrad fell upon her at once, sinking his fangs into her neck an instant before he plunged into her body. Each action was sweet perfection, all on its own. Together, however, they were sublime.

As the air filled with the sounds and the scents of their lovemaking, he reveled in the feeling of finally being at peace with himself, whole, and once again complete.

Afterward, they aided each other in straightening out their clothing. While Georgia tugged her hair back into its braid, Conrad glanced ruefully at the room around them. “This was not quite the setting I had in mind when I requested privacy.” They appeared to be in some sort of council room, though he doubted it had been used as such since Edwin's time. It wore an air of stale neglect even deeper and more pronounced than the keep's main hall. At least the hearth was cold.

There was very little furniture in the room. There was a dusty chest just inside the door, upon which he'd laid his sword, this table and a set of matching chairs—high-backed and ornately carved, their leather seats in various stages of decay. The room offered very little in the way of comfort. Perhaps that had been Kendrick's intention. “I can see that, in all future dealings with your uncle, I shall have to be much more specific about my requirements.”

Georgia laughed softly. “Authority becomes you.”

He looked at her in surprise. “What is that you say?”

“There is an aura of confidence about you now. An air of command that was not there before. You wear them well.”

“I'm pleased you think so.”

He leaned in once again and framed her face with his hands. He pressed his lips to hers once more, thrilling to the remembered taste of her. To have her back again was indeed a miracle, and all the sweeter for having arrived unlooked for. But though his heart still overflowed with the wonder of it all, his mind was plagued with questions and doubts.