Seven
“Sir Colwyn said that Lord Meifod will depart within the hour,” Lady Caryn remarked as she pulled the scarlet embroidery thread through the cloth she held on her lap. “Are you going with him?”
Bethan’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Of course I shall not go with him. Honestly, Mother, how can you ask such a thing?”
Lady Caryn shrugged her shoulders. “He is your husband. Your place is by his side.”
“My place is here, with my family and my people.”
“Though I am not as strong as I once was, I am perfectly capable of taking charge,” Lady Caryn replied. “We have good, loyal soldiers who will keep us safe and hardworking people who are joyful at being freed from de Bellemare’s tyranny. Lampeter is once again a fine place to live.”
“’Tis Tis not only to run things that I am staying.” A muscle worked spasmodically in Bethan’s throat. “You know what Haydn is, Mother. I told you everything. He is a vampire. A creature of darkness and evil, like de Bellemare. I am shocked you would dare to suggest that I go with him.”
Lady Caryn sighed. “I confess to knowing very little about his kind, but I do know one thing with great certainty. The Warrior of the North is nothing like Agnarr de Bellemare.”
“He betrayed me!” Bethan cried. “I can never trust him, never look at him without feeling a crushing sense of loss.”
“’Tis not too late. He loves you, Bethan. And you love him. Go to him. Quickly, before he leaves.”
Shaking her head vehemently, Bethan turned away, hugging her arms around her waist, trying to control the tremors of emotions that shook her body. “Our feelings do not matter. I can never be a part of his world.”
“There is a way.” Bethan looked over and saw a gleam of excitement in her mother’s eyes. “Haydn can transform you, he has the power to make you one of his kind. I asked Father William to check the book and he said ’tis possible for an immortal to turn another.”
Bethan’s hands curled into shaking fists. She was well acquainted with the passage her mother spoke of, for Bethan had read it so many times herself she could recite the words from memory.
“I shall be eternally damned,” she whispered.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I know not what to believe about God and salvation. I only know that while I was with de Bellemare, I lived in hell while on earth. And your Haydn was the one who released me from that hell. Surely that must mean something.”
“Do not romanticize it. ’Twas a fight, Mother, between two enemies. Haydn emerged victorious because he was younger and stronger.”
“Or had more to protect,” Lady Caryn insisted. “Agnarr de Bellemare fought to hold on to his power, but Haydn fought to keep you safe. Haydn fought for love.”
Bethan shook her head. “It was revenge. De Bellemare destroyed Haydn’s parents.”
Yet even as the words left her mouth, she knew she spoke but part of the truth. Haydn had defeated the Lord of Lampeter to save Bethan and her people. He had done it because he loved her.
Lady Caryn reached for her daughter’s hand and held it tightly. “Even as a child you had courage. How I admired your spirit, your strength. So often it gave me the will to carry on when I believed in my heart that we were all doomed. I beg of you, reach within yourself and find that spirit. If not, you shall end your days a sad and bitter woman.”
The uncertainty of her future wavered in Bethan’s mind. It was wrong, most likely sinful, to contemplate becoming an immortal and the very idea of it frightened her dreadfully. “How can I even consider consigning myself to such a fate, to willingly become a creature of darkness?”
“How can you not?” Lady Caryn gave her a trembling smile. “For so many years you have fought for me, fought for our people. Now ’tis time to think of yourself. He made you happy, Bethan. Think long and hard before you toss away this chance at happiness, this gift of love.”
Bethan pushed the doubts and fears from her mind and contemplated the feelings of her heart. She envisioned her days without him, the bleak years of loneliness stretching before her. A single sob escaped and Bethan covered her mouth.
The aching in her heart propelled her feet forward, down the stairs, though the great hall, out the front doors, toward the stables. Rain began to fall, but Bethan ignored it, moving forward as quickly as her heavy skirts would allow.
By the time she was within sight of the stables, the curtain of falling rain was thick and pounding, nearly blinding. Yet Bethan pushed herself forward, ignoring the pelting raindrops and the wind whipping at her gown, searching through the deluge for Haydn.
Thunder rumbled and lightning split the sky and suddenly she saw him, in a blaze of light. He stood alone, in the open stable doorway. Powerful, proud, noble. Sensing her presence, he turned. Their eyes met and raw emotion seared her soul.
She would never love anyone as much as she loved Haydn, would never want for anything, care for anything, need anything as much as him. Bethan swallowed hard, blinking back the tears she swore she would not shed.
Haydn remained as he was, standing still and silent, his handsome face an impassive mask, the raging storm swirling around him like a tempest. Waiting. Waiting for her to come to him.
“I want to hate you,” she confessed, shouting to be heard above the storm.
He lowered his chin in the slightest acknowledgment. “You have the right.”
“I want to hate you, yet I cannot. I deliberately avoided you and kept myself busy from dawn to dusk, feeling such exhaustion by evening that I could almost fall asleep standing on my feet. Yet when I closed my eyes at night, you were what I saw. No matter what I did, I could never escape it. And now…now far greater than my desire to hate you is the paralyzing fear that once you are gone, I shall never see you again.”
“Come with me.”
It took one small step to be in his arms. With a sob, Bethan clung to Haydn’s powerful frame, burying her face in the crook of his neck, letting his strength seep into her. “I want to be with you always, Haydn, wherever you go, however you live. Please, make me as you are, my dearest.”
He stroked her damp hair and held her close. “I know my days will be bleak and barren without you. But I cannot ask you to sacrifice your humanity for me.”
“I do it because I am selfish, because I love you.” Bethan lifted her hand, pressing her palm over his heart. “I do it for us, Haydn.”
He sighed and leaned his head back. “Are you certain?”
“I am certain of nothing,” she replied honestly. “Except that I love you. And that I need to be with you, to be a part of you. Though I have tried to deny it, you are so deep inside me, you touch my heart.”
Haydn captured her face in his hands. “’Tis not what you have known, but we can have a good marriage, a solid partnership.” His face drew closer until his lips brushed hers in a gentle kiss. “I will do all within my power to ensure that you never regret this choice.”
Bethan leaned into him, pressing herself firmly against his side. “Do it,” she urged. “Turn me now, before I lose my courage.”
He pulled her inside the stable, toward a secluded corner, and she willingly followed. Shielded from any passing eye, Haydn gathered Bethan within the circle of his arms. His lips moved lightly across her skin and Bethan instinctively arched her neck to allow his mouth greater access.
She felt his breath over the artery in her neck and she tensed, but he nuzzled and kissed her gently. Bethan’s fear began to fade and then suddenly she felt a sharp burst of intense pain at the base of her throat. Her body convulsed. She threw herself protectively forward, thrashing wildly, but Haydn had her locked in an iron grip.
Sweet Mother of God, Bethan thought, trying desperately to find her breath. ’Tis a miracle that anyone can survive such a thing!
The edge of her panic was distracted by the sound of an odd suckling noise. Slowly, the pain diminished and a languor descended over her entire body. She tried to reach up to touch Haydn’s face, but her arm felt heavy as a stone.
“Is it over? I feel so strange,” she croaked out weakly.
“Let yourself go, Bethan. I will keep you safe.”
The sound of Haydn’s voice calmed her. Bethan sighed, feeling the shadows and darkness flood into her vision. Her eyes closed. She knew then that she was drifting away, leaving this life and heading toward another. Sighing, she gave herself over to the sensations, trusting Haydn to make it right.
“Drink.”
Responding to the command, she obediently swallowed. The coppery taste of the warm liquid invaded her entire being, bringing forth a new strength and awareness.
Bethan’s lashes fluttered, her eyes opened, and Haydn’s handsome, smiling face suddenly appeared before hers. Amazingly, a single tear streaked down his face.
“Are you crying?” she asked as she reached out to brush away the moisture on his cheek.
“With joy,” he assured her, staring deeply into her eyes. He gently stroked his fingers against the wound at her nape, then lowered his head to her lips for a slow, passionate kiss.
Bethan eagerly responded, kissing him back with all the love and happiness that swelled her heart.
Finally, she was at peace.