Vivian froze like a frightened hare at the sight of Rhys’s glowing eyes and sharp fangs. Yet she wasn’t frightened, not really. Instead, a strange sort of elation filled her. At last was the explanation for all the odd things she’d noticed about him. How his gunshot would had healed so fast, how he sometimes seemed to move quicker than what should be possible, his insistence on them all remaining inside the cave during the day.

Most of all, she finally had closure for the things she’d suspected about him. She hadn’t been imagining things, not in the slightest. He was stronger than a man should be, and that first night, when she’d seen him leaning over Madame Renarde’s bunk, blood trickling from his mouth had not been a dream. She wasn’t cracked.

But when Rhys’s mouth closed over her neck, she finally felt a trill of fear. His teeth stung as they sank into her flesh. Then, the pain vanished, replaced by a heavy, drugging pleasure that made her gasp and cling to him. She heard him swallow twice and realized he was drinking her blood. She should struggle, but it felt so good.

Vivian heard Madame Renarde roar. Rhys released Vivian then, holding her shoulders for balance as her legs wobbled beneath her.

Sand flew through the air as Madame Renarde charged the vampire. With impressive speed, she picked up the sword that Vivian had dropped and thrust it at Rhys’s heart.

His hand a blur, Rhys seized the blade. Blood dripped from his hand and he squeezed the sharp steel and Madame Renarde futilely tried to pull it back. “Let go of the sword, Madame, and we may speak civilly.”

“How can I be civil when you’ve bitten my charge?” Madame Renarde snapped. “I told you that if you were to hurt her—”

“It didn’t hurt,” Vivian interrupted, not knowing what possessed her to defend the vampire. Especially with a sword prick and puncture wounds in her neck.

“I can heal her,” Rhys said. Then that eerie amber glow returned to his eyes as he stared down Madame Renarde. “Release the blade and remain still.”

The companion went stock still and the handle of the rapier slipped through her slack fingers. Rhys dropped his end and once more approached Vivian.

She braced herself to run, but then Madame Renarde cried out in panic, “I cannot move!”

“What did you do to her?” Vivian demanded, outraged at the thought of her dearest friend being trapped.

“I merely immobilized her. She’ll be released in a moment.” He gripped Vivian’s upper arms with steely strength. “Now hold still.”

He did not work his magic on her, though, since Vivian’s knees quaked and her feet shuffled on the sand. For a moment she thought Rhys intended to bite her again, but instead he merely placed his bleeding palm on her wound.

After he stepped back, he turned his gaze on Madame Renarde. “You may move now.”

The companion started to lunge at Rhys, then paused and instead rushed to Vivian. “Are you all right, Cherie?”

Vivian nodded. The sting in her neck was fading, replaced by a tingling sensation.

“Mon Dieu!” Madame Renarde gasped. “Your wound is healing.”

Rhys grinned and held up his hand. The slash in his palm knitted back together before her eyes.

“Magic,” Vivian whispered in awe.

“Yes,” Rhys agreed in a self-congratulatory tone.

Madame Renarde regarded him with stormy fury. “You’ve doomed us! We are not supposed to know of your kind.”

“And how do you know that?” Rhys asked with narrowed eyes.

“I used to be a spy,” the companion explained. “I know many of the world’s secrets.”

The vampire seemed at a loss for words. He shifted back and forth on the sand for several moments before he cleared his throat. “We should probably head inside before one of you catches a chill.”

Vivian bent and retrieved the sword Madame Renarde had dropped, though it likely wouldn’t do any good. “And why should we spend another night under the roof of a monster that drinks blood to survive?”

To her shock, Rhys flinched. The word had hurt him. Then his jaw tightened as he favored her with a bitter smirk. “Aside from the obvious fact that you’ve been perfectly safe under my roof before learning what I am, I’ll inform you that you were already biding under a vampire’s care before I abducted you.”

“Uncle is a vampire?” Even as her voice rang with disbelief, Rhys’s words explained everything about her reclusive, nocturnal uncle.

“He’d be your great-great-great uncle at the least.” Rhys gestured for them to follow him inside. “And he is not just any vampire, he is the Lord Vampire of Blackpool.”

Vivian was tempted to refuse to return to the cave, but then she shivered as a chill wind picked up, piercing the sweat-soaked fabric of her dress to assault her skin. As if in agreement with the futility of the situation, Madame Renarde sneezed.

Reluctantly, she realized that Rhys had a point. Him being a vampire would hardly change the conditions of their captivity, aside from making the likelihood of escape much more dismal.

When they returned to the cave, Rhys added more wood to the fire and filled the tea kettle. The actions seemed so normal in the face of what she’d learned about him.

Vampire, her mind echoed. A vampire had abducted her. A vampire had talked and laughed with her. A vampire had taught her to curse. A vampire had dueled with her.

A vampire had kissed her.

A sudden thought jolted her. Had he used his mesmerizing powers to coerce her? Then she remembered the desire that flooded her when his lips had claimed hers that fateful night. Desire that returned when he’d held her in his arms earlier. No, she had kissed him willingly.

And that was a much more alarming thought.

So alarming that she’d temporarily lost the significance of the fact that her Uncle Aldric was also a vampire.

Now Rhys’s words earlier this night: “You had best pray to the heavens that you never learn what I know of Lord Thornton.”

Yet he’d now told them. And Madame Renarde had appeared to be more fearful of the knowledge of what Rhys was than of Rhys himself. Was there some sort of group of vampire authorities that killed humans for discovering their secrets? She thought there might be. And Uncle Aldric could be one of those authorities. Rhys said he was the Lord Vampire of all of Blackpool. That must mean that he reigned over all the vampires who lived in that region.

What would Uncle do when he found out that Vivian and Madame Renarde knew what he was?

When Rhys handed her a cup of tea, she voiced her thoughts. “This is what you meant when you said that you and my uncle move in the same circles.”

He nodded.

“And does my uncle know that Madame Renarde and I have been abducted by another vampire?” she prodded.

“No.” Rhys said with a satisfied smirk. “And that is probably why he’d rather try to hunt me down than simply pay the ransom. He thinks he is dealing with a human, thus his pride prevents him from allowing me to win.”

Madame Renarde coughed again. “Then this is your trump card. Letting Lord Thornton know that his foe is on equal footing. But if he has the same abilities as you do, why are you so confident that he won’t find you?”

“That danger will increase once he is apprised of what I am,” Rhys allowed, sipping his tea. “However, we are quite far from Blackpool, for one thing, and for another, Lord Vampires encounter difficulty travelling because they must secure permission as well as hunting rights from the Lord of each territory he passes through.”

“What if he were to send one of his subordinates?” Madame Renarde asked, then blew her nose with her handkerchief.

Rhys shrugged. “He would still have to ask permission for their passage.”

“And who was your Lord Vampire to grant you permission to travel to Lord Thornton’s territory and abduct his kin?”

Rhys’s eyes widened and Madame Renarde smirked. “Ah, you do not have a lord, do you? You’re an outlaw even with your own kind.”

Had Rhys’s visitors the other night been outlaw vampires as well? While Vivian was certain that information would prove to be useful, another matter had her confused. “How is Uncle to learn that you’re a vampire? Are you going to send him another letter?”

“Sending him a letter by post would have been ideal, though I would have to take care with the language in case it fell into the wrong hands.” Rhys leaned back on his cot and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You will write something, but I’m afraid the method of delivery will be different.”

He was dallying, trying to draw out his words. Vivian’s father did the same thing any time he had to deliver unpleasant news. “And what method will that be?”

The vampire heaved a sigh. “I am sending Madame Renarde back to Blackpool.”

“What?” Madame Renarde’s face went white as talcum powder as she set down her teacup. “You can’t!”

“I have to,” he said. “You’re falling ill. I don’t know if you feel it yet, but you have a fever. I can smell it. I will not be responsible for your death.”

Madame Renarde did look feverish, Vivian realized. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks ruddy, and beads of sweat gathered on her forehead.

Madame Renarde crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I cannot leave Vivian alone with you! That would mean I failed in my duties.”

“You’ll fail if you die,” Rhys replied bluntly. Apparently, he was done prevaricating. “If it will reassure you, Lord Thornton will be concerned about other matters than Miss Stratford’s virtue when you tell him what I am.”

Vivian remembered something else he’d said: Just because I do not wish to sever your finger does not mean that I am incapable of doing other things that would horrify your uncle and that you would doubtless find unpleasant. “Are you talking about draining my blood or turning me into a vampire?”

“The latter, of course,” Rhys said. “It takes effort to drain a human, for one thing. For another, your uncle should rightly assume that I won’t kill my hostage.”

Before Vivian could recover from that gruesome information, Madame Renarde leapt back into her previous bone of contention. “And what if I am concerned with her virtue?”

Heat rose to Vivian’s cheeks as she relived their almost-kiss before the duel, but Rhys seemed unaffected. “I’m a monster, but not one who ravishes maidens against their will. And now that Miss Stratford knows that I’m a monster, I don’t think she will be in a hurry to welcome my touch.”

Vivian nodded, more to reassure her companion than out of confidence in Rhys’s words. Though she truly should be revolted at the thought of a vampire touching her. Any normal woman would be. Yet this was still Rhys. The man who’d captured her dreams with his kiss, the man who was trying to save his family’s farm while doing as little harm as possible. The man who’d laughed with her, taught her foul language, and did everything he could to see to her comfort.

She couldn’t help but notice that he emphasized two terms to place distance between them. He called himself a monster, and for once bowed to propriety in referring to her as Miss Stratford. Was he fighting the attraction as badly as she was?

Yes, she may be in danger to succumbing to his charms should he decide to work them on her. And the thought of being alone with him in this cave for lord knew how many nights did set her heart to pounding in a most improper manner. This was the first time she’d felt any stirrings with a male, the first time when a chaperone could be needed for her own good.

But Madame Renarde was ill. Damp climates never agreed with her, and Vivian had never heard such an ugly cough. There was no question, Madame Renarde must return to Thornton Manor, where her uncle could summon a doctor.

“No,” Madame Renarde said, as if reading Vivian’s thoughts. “I must stay.”

Vivian realized there was another facet in her friend’s stubborn refusal to leave. Madame Renarde did not allow doctors to examine her, lest her secret be discovered.

With that in mind, Vivian reached over and took her friend’s hand, squeezing her palm in reassurance. “If you need treatment, my uncle will have to find a doctor who is discreet. After all, he has a bigger secret for you to hold over him.”

Madame Renarde looked so hopeful that it was heartbreaking. “Do you truly think so?”

“I am,” Vivian said with genuine confidence. “If he’s survived so long as a vampire in the nobility without being found out, he must be well-versed in discretion.”

Rhys nodded. “She’s right,” he said softly.

Hope gleamed in Madame Renarde’s pale eyes, but her lips twisted in a frown. “What if he kills me or throws me out?”

Before Vivian could respond, Rhys spoke. “For the most part, it is illegal for a vampire to kill a human. Furthermore, although I will ensure that you do not know where this cave is, you have enough information for Blackpool—er—Lord Thornton for him to find it prudent to keep you healthy and safe.”

Madame Renarde opened her mouth, whether to agree or to argue, they never found out, for she doubled over with another fit of coughing.

Rhys patted her back with a sympathetic frown and then took her teacup. “I’m going to give you some laudanum. It helps with coughing too.” He fetched his brown bottle and poured a few drops into the tea. Then he went to the basket containing the fruit he’d stolen a few nights ago, took a lemon, then sliced it, adding a segment to the tea. After he added a large dollop of honey, he handed her the cup. “The lemon and honey will mask the laudanum and ease the pain in your throat. Now drink up, for you need to rest for our journey.”

Vivian’s heart clenched at Rhys’s tender care for her friend. Her body warmed all over as she realized that he would treat her with the same gentle consideration, if she had fallen ill.

He may call himself a villain and a monster, but he acted like a hero. Vivian couldn’t stop pondering the contradiction.

Once Madame Renarde finished her tea and was bundled up in her cot, Rhys built the fire to a cheery blaze that chased away the remaining chill of the cave.

“Thank you for caring for her,” Vivian said softly as her companion’s snores echoed off the stone walls.

Rhys gave her a slight bow. “It is nothing. Now I need you to compose the letter for your uncle.” He rose and went to one of the shelves, fetching foolscap, quill, and ink.

When the writing implements were set before her, he dictated what he wanted her to write. Vivian fought to keep her hand from shaking as she penned the short missive, coded to inform Uncle Aldric that she knew what he was. Rhys didn’t want her to say any more than that, explaining that the consequences of Aldric not paying the ransom were implied. Vivian added her own coded plea for her uncle to be discreet and merciful with Madame Renarde.

Rhys read the letter and nodded with satisfaction. “This will do. Now I must go out and feed before the sun rises. If I come across some food or goods that you may enjoy, I will fetch them for you.”

A laugh escaped Vivian’s lips, though it held a hysterical edge.

The vampire cocked his head to the side. “What is so amusing?”

“You’re going off to drink someone’s blood and collect sweets or fripperies on the way.” She shook her head. “I suppose it’s not amusing, but you must admit it sounds odd.”

“I suppose so.” He chuckled and started toward the door.

“Rhys?”

He turned. “Yes?”

“Do you hurt them, when you....?” She trailed off with embarrassment, not quite ready to describe his fangs sinking into someone’s neck. Her own flesh tingled at the memory of his bite.

His face contorted in what looked like pain, then he softened, regarding her with a long, almost tender stare. “No, I do not. Now you should sleep too. I extended our duel longer than I should have and you must be sore and exhausted.”

She was, and she ached all over from her exertions. Never had she pushed herself so much. She remembered wondering why Rhys barely seemed winded. Now she had her answer. Vampire. The word whispered in her mind as she watched Rhys walk out of the cave to seek his next victim. Though if it was true that he didn’t harm them, maybe victim wasn’t the right word.

Donor, perhaps?

With a long shake of her head, Vivian pulled down the bamboo privacy screen, shrugged out of her gown and into the oversized nigh shirt that Madame Renarde had laid out for her before the duel. Then she lay down on her bunk and stared at the shadows and dancing firelight across the screen.

Madame Renarde snored on. The laudanum had put her out like a lamb. Too bad Rhys hadn’t offered any to Vivian.

Sleep, Rhys had told her. Ha! How was she able to close her eyes after first learning that he was a vampire and her uncle was one as well? And then discovering that her best friend was ill? To top it all off, with Madame Renarde returning to Thornton Manor and informing Uncle Aldric that a rival of his kind held Vivian, and of all that had transpired, who knew how her uncle would react?

Which led to the most alarming realization that kept Vivian wide awake. After tomorrow night, she would be alone with Rhys, unchaperoned. Sleeping, bathing, eating, talking. All of those things would take on a different sort of intimacy, despite Rhys’s assurances to Madame Renarde.

Alone with a vampire. Her heart thudded beneath the blankets.

Rhys’s words earlier whispered in her mind: “...now that Miss Stratford knows that I’m a monster, I don’t think she will be in a hurry to welcome my touch.”

But was that true? Vivian recalled their kiss, then the times when he helped her mount the horse, the moment he pulled her against him to challenge her mocking his lack of villainy...and the closeness of their bodies as they’d dueled. Her belly fluttered as she relived each moment.

She wasn’t so certain.