The Passion (8 page)

Tessa paled and could not stop her gaze from darting to Gault in a terrified manner, which she immediately regretted. The malicious satisfaction on his face was enough to make her quickly shift her gaze back to Alexander, who had fol owed the brief exchange with lazy amusement.

"I don't know, Gault," he said. "That seems a bit severe. Perhaps we'll simply chain her in the cel ar and let the rats do their work."

"A waste," replied Gault.

Alexander addressed her unexpectedly. "You are not in the least afraid of me, are you?"

Her stomach was quaking and her hands were sweating. She lied. "No." And then, when she saw the sharpening of his gaze, she added quickly, honestly, "At least—I don't think you wil skin me or chain me in the cel ar."

"Why not?"

Tessa drew a steadying breath and tried as unobtrusively as possible to blot her wet palms on her pinafore. Her heartbeat was loud in her own ears, but gradual y calmed its terrified rhythm. "My life was yours last night," she said, meeting his eyes, "and you chose not to take it."

His expression remained unmoved. "Perhaps by the light of day I've reconsidered."

"Skin her," advised Gault.

Alexander held out his glass for a refil , keeping his thoughtful, assessive gaze fixed upon Tessa. "I don't know," he said to Gault as the latter splashed red wine into his glass. "Perhaps I wil keep her around."

"For what possible reason?" Gault gave a plausible demonstration of outrage, withdrawing the bottle.

"My own amusement," snapped Alexander. "Do I need another reason?"

Gault lowered his eyes.

Alexander sipped his wine, his expression reflective.

"Perhaps I wil keep her as a pet, and educate her."

Gault snorted. "A futile exercise. I doubt she's educable."

Alexander raised his eyebrows. "Is that a wager?"

Gault looked her over skeptical y. His gaze made Tessa's skin crawl.

"What wil you teach her?"

Alexander raised his glass again. "Marksmanship, for one thing."

Gault grinned. On his face, mirth was an evil thing.

Tessa gradual y began to understand that her attempt on the master's life had been more of a joke to them than a genuine threat. Perhaps she should have been reassured, but in truth she found their amusement more frightening than anything else they might have done. What manner of creatures were these, and how little about them did she, in fact, know?

Alexander sprang to his feet, causing her to start involuntarily. He circled her chair, looking down upon her from his great height, and it was with considerable self-restraint that Tessa refused to crane her neck upward like a child in order to fol ow his movements. Her heart was pounding and a clamminess in her stomach was making her il .

"So, my dear," he demanded abruptly, "what do you think? Shal I educate you, or have you for lunch?"

Tessa swal owed hard and pressed her hands together tightly in her lap to steady her voice. But she did not look up at him. "Pardon, monsieur, but I do not think you wil eat me for lunch. And I already have a quite adequate education. I can read and write in two languages, and do ciphers, and play the piano passably wel , and—"

"But you know nothing of us," Alexander interrupted sharply. "You have no idea what it is you tried to destroy—for I assume your intent was to kil me, not merely irritate me."

Tessa whispered involuntarily, and so softly it was barely above a breath, "I do."

Alexander stopped circling and snapped at her:

"What?"

"She said, 'I do,' " supplied Gault.

"I know what she said," returned Alexander irritably.

"I want to know what she meant."

Tessa took a deep breath. "I meant that I do know what you are."

"Do you indeed?" Alexander dropped back onto the divan, his eyes narrowing with mild surprise. "Then my task should be much easier." He leaned against the pil ows and swung one foot up onto the surface.

"Yes, Gault, I think she wil be worth the trouble. I wil keep her."

Gault said, "You wil be sorry."

"No doubt." He gestured toward the clutter of dishes and empty glasses. "You may leave us."

Gault began to clear away the dishes.

"So tel me,
chérie
," Alexander said to Tessa, "what are you thinking now? Are you sorry for your crime?

Do you speculate upon your fate? What punishment do you think I should exact for your perfidy?"

At last, Tessa gathered up her courage to meet his eyes. "I am exceedingly sorry for my crime," she said fervently, and was somewhat surprised to realize she spoke the exact truth. This only confused her more.

He inclined his head slightly, as though in approval.

"And why are you sorry?"

She swal owed hard. She had no ready answer for this. "I've never, um, used a knife in that manner before. I found it—unpleasant."

His eyes fairly danced with laughter. "Is that so?

May I offer that it was no more enjoyable from my point of view, either." Abruptly he sobered, and his voice was barely more than a growl. "You should have thought of that before you stabbed me, wench."

"I thought you were a monster," she replied miserably.

Gault murmured, "There are those who would not argue that point even now."

Alexander shot him a threatening look, then returned his attention to Tessa. His tone was severe. "Very wel , you are sorry. Should that exempt you from punishment?"

Tessa made herself raise her gaze to his once again. "If I thought you would kil me for your revenge, I would not have come back. But I knew you would be… displeased."

Alexander tossed a look fil ed with chal enge and amusement at Gault as he passed with a tray fil ed with dishes. "You see? I told you she was bright."

Gault replied, "There is a difference between intel ect and cunning, monsieur. You wil rue the day."

Alexander turned back to her, his expression sanguine. "Yes, my dear, I am displeased. And you're right again—I probably won't eat you or kil you for it. But surely you don't expect me to just forget the incident."

Tessa took a deep breath, faced him bravely, and said, "I expect to be dismissed, monsieur."

For a moment he did not react at al . Then he gave a half-stifled grunt of laughter and raised his glass for a sip. "Did you hear that, Gault? A servant tries to kil her employer and she expects to be dismissed. Yes, I would agree that's a reasonable expectation, wouldn't you?"

"And then we wil skin her,
n'est-ce pas
!"

Alexander smiled, watching Tessa while he sipped his wine. "I'm thinking it over."

In a moment Gault finished stacking the dishes onto a cart and left the room. Alexander must have seen the tension drain from her shoulders and arms when Gault was gone, because it wasn't until then that he chose to speak.

"You seem unsurprised by what you've experienced," he observed.

Tessa's nerves were worn raw by Gault's gibes and Alexander's indifferent cruelty, and she stil could not venture a guess as to what her eventual fate might be. Anxiety and frustration were her courage, and without intending to speak at al she retorted,

"As do you, monsieur!"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Thank you. While I must admit being stabbed in the chest with a kitchen knife is not a common occurrence in my experience, I like to think I've taken it with some aplomb. You, on the other hand, cannot claim to witness every day such as you've seen these past hours."

Tessa's curiosity could not be contained another moment. "Why didn't you die?" she blurted out.

Again an eyebrow twitched expressively. "Do I detect a hint of bitterness in the question?"

"No, please, I only…" But when she saw the twinkle in his eyes she drew a breath, composed herself, straightened her shoulders and continued. "I only meant that your attitude has been… cavalier since you recovered. It was as though you knew you couldn't be harmed. Is it true, then? Are you—are such as you—invincible?"

"Wel , if I were not, I would be a fool to tel the woman who just tried to kil me, wouldn't I?"

He regarded her thoughtful y for a moment, and under his gaze she felt vulnerable, naked, yet at the same time oddly empowered, as though the mere fact of his regard gave her importance. And then, abruptly, he said, "
Alors, chérie
, enough sparring.

You intrigue me. I wil answer your question if you wil answer mine."

Tessa had no idea which question he referred to, but she nodded cautiously anyway.

He said, "I am not invincible. Your aim was bad, that's al . We have rapid recuperative powers, but that marvel ous nonsense that mythology loves to bandy about—the silver bul et, the stake through the heart—it is, alas, mere romance. If I make light of the incident, it's only because my life was never in any real danger… unless, of course, you consider the very real possibility that I might have died of embarrassment. You bested me, and that's humiliating. And personal y unforgivable, of course.

Now, satisfy
my
curiosity. You said you knew what I was. What is it exactly that you know, and how did you come to know it?"

Tessa wet her lips, and for a moment—no more—

debated the truth in her head. She decided upon a compromise, and gave her answer in part, cautiously. "I have heard tales of such creatures as yourself, and I've believed them in my heart. I was not surprised to know these tales were true. But to believe the stories, and to see with one's own eyes what I have seen…" She struggled with the words, pressing one clenched hand against her heart and summoning forth her best French. "Such a wonder makes surprise seem like a smal thing indeed, and

—and the miracles of old but pale imitations of the marvel I've witnessed."

She stopped, her heart racing with remembered awe, and was afraid she had said too much. But his expression remained merely interested. "A partial truth, at any rate," he observed. And he must have seen the startled flash of guilt in her eyes, because he gave a negligent turn of his wrist and added,

"You wonder how I know. I can hear the change in your heartbeat and smel the uneasiness on your skin. You may lie to me if you wish, but I'll always know it."

Then he demanded, "What causes you to believe now that I am not a monster? Why have you changed your mind?"

Tessa summoned al her courage and met his eyes boldly. "I have not said that I've changed my mind, monsieur. I want to believe, I wish I
could
believe, that you are not the monster I took you for. But—I must be cautious."

He looked startled for a moment and then let forth a shout of laughter. "You are the most peculiar girl!"

He circled her once again, glass in hand, examining her from head to foot. He resumed his seat at length, sipped his wine, and frowned. "What you have done is no minor thing and I don't want you to take it lightly. Never in my days have I been so offended, and by a perfect stranger to whom I've done no harm. I should probably be a great deal angrier with you, but I can't put aside wondering how the devil you did it—and, perhaps more to the point, why."

Tessa was afraid when that question was answered her interview would be over, as would her chance to understand this wondrous, terrifying creature. So instead of replying, she inquired earnestly, "Why didn't you kil me when you had the chance? You had the knife in your hand, yet you tossed it aside.

And later, when you stood over me… the hunger to kil was in your eyes. I could see it."

The brief narrowing of his eyes reflected surprise at her perception, and then a kind of regret, a reliving of the moment. "Yes," he murmured, "it was."

He made a dismissive gesture with his wrist. "We do not kil humans. It goes against our deepest moral code—and besides, it's a waste of energy. We don't use weapons, either. We never learned to, we never needed to, and you'll find none in this house—

except those, of course," he added with another fierce frown, "that you invent."

"Then am I the only—that is, the others in this household, Gault and the rest, are they al —like you?"

"There is no one," he replied with a disdainful arch of his brow, "like me."

And just as she was about to sink limp with relief, he laughed.

"Many of my servants are human," he told her; "the senior staff is not—Gault, Poinceau, Mme. Crol iere, Lavalier, and others. It would be impossible to find humans capable of performing their jobs with the efficiency I demand. Humans, while amusing, are not very bright and are oftentimes lazy."

He seemed to enjoy watching for her reaction to his words. Tessa was far too overwhelmed with al that had happened—was stil happening—to know whether she gave him one or not.

Once again the words flew out of her mouth before she stopped to think about them. "But—your servants. How can they
not
know what you are?"

Only when it was spoken did she realize how foolish and irrelevant the question was. Yet, rather than mocking her, he seemed to consider the matter, as if it were a subject with which he had never concerned himself before. "Perhaps they do," he decided with a shrug. "What difference can it make?