Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (14 page)

I don’t remember getting there, but we’d returned to her bed, for it was only then that I really woke up, soaked to the bones with a vast and heavy weariness. She’d donned a dressing gown and was kneeling on the floor to put her face at a level with mine. She’d put out many of the candles, and those that remained seemed to have a strange effect on her eyes. The whites were gone, darkened . . . flushed with crimson through and through.

“How do you feel?” she asked, her brows drawn together with light worry.

“Cold,” I croaked.

She tucked the coverlet around me and crossed to the fireplace to add more wood. Despite my listlessness, I noticed that the firelight shone right through the thin fabric of her gown, revealing every graceful line of her figure. In my head, I wanted to take action about it, but my body inarguably insisted upon rest.

“Better?” She leaned over me, stroking my forehead with one finger.

“Tired.” And dizzy. Warburton had been dizzy . . . .

“Have some of this.” She held a cup of wine to my lips, but I could only manage a small swallow. “It will pass. I fear I’ve asked too much of you tonight.”

Warburton . . . white around the eyes . . . and dizzy.

“What did you say?”

I dredged more air into my lungs. “Warburton. You did this to him earlier.” I touched my neck where she had kissed . . . bitten . . . ?

“It’s all right, Jonathan. Please trust me. Everything will be all right.”

“What have you done?” Limited as my experience had been before this night, not once had I ever heard of women biting and taking blood from their men. My once-solid feeling of well-being was slipping away like a ragged dream.

“Exactly what you know I have done,” she calmly replied. “There’s no need to be alarmed.”

“What do you mean? Of course I should be alarmed.”

“You’re not hurt, are you? Does it hurt now? Did it hurt then?”

No
. . . I thought. Far from it.

“Only the idea of it is strange to you but, my darling, let me assure you that it is entirely natural and necessary to me.”

“Necessary?”

“For how I live, how I’m best able to love.”

“But the way we did it earlier . . .”

“Was the way of most men and women, yes. Mine is a divergence that gives me the greatest form of pleasure, not just for myself, but for my lover. Did you not find it so? You didn’t want me to stop.”

“I must have been mad. Damnation, Nora, you were
drinking
my
blood!
”

Her features dissolved from concern to amused chagrin. “Yes, I was. But be honest, was it so terrible?”

That took the wind out of me.

Wry amusement surpassed her chagrin. “Oh, my dear, if you could only see your face.”

“But . . . well, I mean . . . well, it’s damnably
strange
.”

“Only because it’s new to you.”

“This isn’t, well, harmful, is it?” I asked.

“Hardly. You may wobble a bit tomorrow, but sleep and good food will restore you.”

“You’re sure?”

She kissed my fingers. “Yes, my darling. I would never, ever harm you. If it were within my power I would protect you from all the world’s evils.”

I settled back, overtaken by another bout of dizziness and the oddity of dealing with her . . . preferences. It was hardly without struggle, but I found myself curiously able to accept them. The sincerity of feeling behind her last words was so sharp that it was almost painful to hear, but at the same time a thrill went through me. I’d hardly dared to hope that she would love me as I was loving her.

She was absolutely right about her needs not being so terrible, quite the contrary, in fact. And if she’d started kissing me again in the same spot and in the same way I would not have stopped her. The mere thought of her lips light touch on my throat revived me greatly in mind and in spirit. My body, sad to say, was not yet sufficiently recovered for me to put forth the invitation just now, but soon.

Gingerly, I explored the place on my throat with my fingers. It felt slightly bruised, nothing more, and the only evidence of her bite were two small, raised blemishes.

“They’re not very noticeable,” she said. “Your neckcloth will cover everything.”

“Have you a mirror?”

“Not handy, and I don’t like to trouble the servants this late.”

“Good God, what time is it?”

“Close on to three, I should think. Time to sleep. My people will see that you get home in the morning.”

“Not too early,” I said, echoing Warburton’s instruction. Instead of resentment toward him, I now felt an almost brotherly compassion and camaraderie. “Poor Tony. He’s so terribly in love with you.”

“Yes.” She rose and lay down next to me, but on top of the coverlet. “Perhaps too much in love.”

“Don’t you love him?”

“Not in the way he wants. He wants marriage and children, and that is not my path.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too long a story and I don’t wish to tell it.”

“But I know nothing about you.” The whites of her eyes were not so flushed now. The darker pupils were slowly emerging from their scarlet background.

“You know enough, I think.” She stroked the hair away from my brow and kissed me. “You’ll learn more in the nights ahead.”

The dreamlike comfort that had begun to envelop my thoughts abruptly whipped away once more. “No I won’t. I’m going up to Cambridge tomorrow, God help me. I’ll never see you again!”

“Yes, you will. Do you think I’d let anyone as dear to me as you get away? “

“You mean you’d come with me?”

“Not with you, but I can take a house in Cambridge as easily as in London. The place is a dull and windy fen, but if you’re there. . .”

Her mouth closed over mine, warm and soft and tasting of salt. Not salt. Tasting of blood. My own blood.

But I didn’t care. She could do what she liked as long as I had a place in her heart. She wholly filled mine.

We talked and planned for a little while, but I was exhausted and soon fell asleep in her arms.

* * *

I awoke slowly, lazily, my eyelids reluctant to lift. I had no idea of the time. The room’s one window, though large, was heavily curtained. I was alone in the big bed. Nora must have risen earlier and gone down to breakfast.

Rolling on my side, I noticed a fold of paper on the table by the bed. Written on it was the simple message, “Ring when you are awake.” Next to the paper was a silver bell. I did as instructed and presently a large and terribly dignified butler appeared and asked how he could be of service to me.

“Where is Miss Jones?”

“Gone for the day, sir, but she left a message for you.” I sat up with interest. “Yes?”

“She will try to meet with you again tonight, but if she is unable, she will certainly see you in Cambridge within the week.”

My disappointment fell on my heart like a great stone. I’d hoped for more. A lengthy love letter would have been nice. A week? That was an eternity. “Where has she gone?”

“She did not confide that information to me, sir.”

“What about Mrs. Poole? Would she know?”

“Mrs. Poole left early to go visiting, sir. I do not think she will be able to help you, either.”

“Damn.”

“Would you care for a bath and shave, sir?”

“Really?” Considering all the trouble Warburton’s servants had been to yesterday, this was an unexpected boon. I accepted the offered luxury and while things were being prepared for me in another room, sat at the table and composed a note to Nora.

Like my first kisses, it was more enthusiastic than polished, but sincere. Some parts were doubtless overdone, but love can forgive anything, including bad writing. When I came to a point where I could either go on for several more pages or stop, I chose to stop. It struck me that the whole thing was highly indiscreet, and Nora had specifically asked for my discretion. Virtuously, I recopied it, but changed the salutation to read “My Dearest Darling,” rather than “My Dearest Nora.” I signed it with a simple “J” and threw the first draft into the fire. That was as discreet as I cared to be for the moment.

Her servants saw to my every comfort and made sure I was groomed, fed, and dressed in clothes that had been magically aired and brushed anew. I was—as Nora predicted—a little wobbly, but that was hardly comparable to the twinges in a number of my muscles and joints unaccustomed to certain horizontal activities. I also found it necessary to tread carefully in order to spare myself from another kind of unexpected discomfort, for there was a decided tenderness between my legs due to last night’s many goings-on. Perhaps a few days of rest would not be so bad for me, after all.

A coach was engaged to take me to Warburton’s. It was early afternoon by now, but I had no great concern about my tardy return—not until Nora’s coach stopped at the front steps and Oliver burst out the door.

“My God! Where on earth have you been?”

“I told Warburton—”

“Yes, yes, and so you went off for the night. Well-a-day, man, you could have at least given him a hint on where you’d be so I could find you.”

“Is there some trouble?”

“Only that we’re supposed to be on our way to Fonteyn House to meet Mother by now.”

Oh dear. With that pronouncement of doom hanging in the air like a curse, he hustled me inside.

Warburton greeted me with a grin and a wink and I had the decency to blush to his face. Courtiers to Nora we might be, but I wasn’t yet ready to talk about it with him now. If ever.

“You’re white as a ghost, but seem well enough,” he said. “Poor Oliver thought you’d fallen in with a press gang or worse.”

I regarded his own pale skin with new eyes. “Yes. I do beg everyone’s pardon. It was wrong of me to go off so suddenly. I didn’t think that I would be so long.”

“One never does,” he purred. “Come in and sit and tell us all about her.”

“Absolutely not!” Oliver howled from the stairs he was taking two at a time. “As soon as they bring down your baggage, we are leaving.”

Warburton shrugged expressively. “Another day, then. She must have been extraordinary, though, eh?”

I had to remember that he was still under the impression I’d been with some servant girl. “She was, indeed. That is the only word that could possibly describe her.”

His eyed widened with inner laughter. “Heavens, you’ve fallen in love, and after but one night. Do you plan to see her again?”

“Yes, I’m sure I will. At least I hope so.”

“Then you’ll have to lay in a supply of eel-skins. No offense against your lady, but you don’t want to pick up a case of the clap or pox while you’re with her. They’ll also keep you from fathering a brat, y’know.”

“Uh. . .”

“No arguments. There’s not a doctor in the land who won’t agree with me. Oliver would tell you the same, only I’m sure he’s too shy, but once you’re up at Cambridge, ask him straight out, and he’ll tell you where you can get some. Or me, if you can wait that long. I won’t be leaving for another week or so.”

He was different from the preoccupied man I’d left last night, and very different from the high-spirited suitor I’d first met: genial and interested in things outside of himself. I again wondered what Nora had said to him. I knew just how persuasive she could be but this taxed all understanding.

Oliver returned, followed by several footmen wrestling with my trunk and other things. He had asked the coach that brought me to wait and now supervised its loading. Finished, he rushed back and wrung Warburton’s hand.

“Sorry to have to hare off, but you know how Mother is.”

“It’s all right, my dear fellow. I’ll see you at the same rooms later this month?”

“Certainly! Come on, Jonathan. I’m not Joshua, I can’t make the sun stand still, though God knows it would be damned convenient to do so right now.” He seized my arm and pulled me out. I waved once at Warburton, who grinned again, then we tumbled down the steps and into the coach. Oliver’s fine horse was tethered behind, its saddle and tack littering the coach’s floor and tripping me as I charged inside. By a lucky twist, I managed to land my backside on a seat.

Oliver collapsed opposite me with a weary sigh. “Damn good fortune you picked this instead of a chair or wagon. When we’re clear of the town traffic, we should make good time.”

Once more I apologized to him.

“You needn’t worry about my feelings, it’s Mother who may take things badly. Some of her friends were at that party last night and it could get back to her that we were out having a good time instead of hurrying home to introduce you to her. She has to have things her way or it’s the devil to pay otherwise.”

That sounded uncomfortably familiar. Ah, well, if his mother and mine were so alike, I would only have to endure her for a short while. Cambridge had suddenly become highly appealing to me, and if I was anxious to get there and take up my studies, then she could hardly object to such an attitude. All I need do was keep silent on the source of its inspiration.

“Has Warburton spoken much about Miss Jones?” I asked.

“Eh? No, I don’t think so. He got a bit drunk last night, but that’s all I can recall. I suppose his proposal was a failure, but usually when a girl turns him down he sulks in bed for a week. He seemed in good spirits today.”

“Why do you think it was a failure?”

“Had he succeeded, he would have told us.”

“You seem rather incurious.”

“It’s hardly my business.” His expression changed from indifference to interest. “Oh-oh, are you thinking of—”

“Of what?”

“If the beauteous Miss Jones has turned him down, it would smooth the path for you, wouldn’t it, dear Coz? Only I’m not sure what Tony would make of that. He has the devil’s own temper at times.”

“The jealous sort, is he?”

Oliver shrugged.

That could be another reason why Nora refused his offer. “Jealous or not, it is the lady who should have the last word on whom she chooses to spend her time with.”

“Yes, I’ve always thought that way myself. So much the better if she chooses to spend it with you.”

I lost my power of speech for a few moments.

“Don’t look so surprised, Coz. I saw you following the girl’s aunt into the maze. From the look on your face I knew it wasn’t to have a quiet talk with her. You needn’t worry; I’m not one to tell tales. I’ve found that it’s healthier to keep removed from any romantic intrigues that are of no direct concern to me. All I ask is that if you have a question, come on out with it. This hedging around for information is bad for my liver.”