Then Nadia turned a page and there were William and Matthew. Since the incident with Leonidas, Mal had let the two share communal enclosure time. In this sketch, they’d been playing keep-away. They’d wrestled over the ball until William got it away and sat on the younger boy, a smug look on his face. Matthew had snarled and then subsided, giving him an annoyed but accepting expression. Elisa had drawn the pose, though it had to be from memory. In less than two seconds, when William’s guard dropped, Matthew had bucked him off and they’d been at it again.

She described the scene to Nadia, continuing to nuzzle at her throat, partly because Nadia seemed to like it so much, and because Elisa herself was unexpectedly enjoying it. At this moment, it was as if she had become Gustav or Christophe, taking the lead, Nadia submitting to her caresses willingly. It had a lovely, intriguing quality to it, primarily because she imagined how Mal would enjoy watching her do this with another woman at his behest, two female bodies twined together. Had she really just had that thought? There probably weren’t enough Hail Marys and Our Fathers to cover that sinful idea.

“Their fangs won’t pull back?” Nadia asked, her breath a little short. “It’s such a shame, because they’re so lovely otherwise. It must make them terribly self-conscious.”

“It does at times. Nerida chipped one of hers on a rock one day by accident and the chip didn’t fill in as it would with normal vampire healing powers. It made Mal think that we could try filing them back, which wouldn’t interfere with the marking glands. There’s a vampire scientist he’s inviting to the island, and if he comes, he’ll see if he has any ideas about that. If the boys came here before then,” Elisa spoke carefully, casually, “I’m sure Mal could arrange for Lord Brian to include you on his visit.”

As she straightened, she slid her hands at Nadia’s waist up so her knuckles were pressed underneath the woman’s bosom. Before she could change to a more appropriate position, Nadia caught hold of one of the hands, turned it slowly, discreetly, so it was molded around her right breast, her thumb pressing against the nipple that was so tight and needy Elisa felt an answering response in her own breasts.

The men continued their conversation without interruption, but Mal told her what she already suspected. Marshall is following his servant’s response like a starving lion, Elisa. Don’t stop. It’s helping them both. Sweet, clever girl.

It wasn’t so much cleverness as intuition, a desire to help, but the compliment made her glow, so she wouldn’t argue it. She teased the nipple gently, squeezed the curve in a way that made the woman tremble and gave Elisa a spike in arousal again. She’d been pleasantly flustered by Danny’s more sexual caresses, but hadn’t ever instigated them herself. It didn’t do for her what touching Mal did. However, Nadia’s silent urgency, her barely disguised need, was intoxicating. And heartbreaking.

Nadia lifted her attention from the sketch pad back to the window. A boat outlined in its own running lights was drifting by, like a small constellation against the dark water. “Do you know I carried this last one long enough to produce milk? I mean, it’s odd, because vampire infants don’t drink milk. If the mother is vampire, she feeds them from a puncture wound on her breast, so the baby can still bond through the breast-feeding. If the mother is human, like me, you mix one part of your human milk with two parts of the father’s blood. There are those who say that the milk isn’t really necessary, it’s just there to make the servant feel like a part of it, but I think they’re wrong.”

She shifted the book closed, though Elisa noted her hand stayed as a marker on the page with William and Matthew. “Marshall had a midwife come and pump out my milk, because those first few days I just lay there like I was dead. It had to be done often. Milk just trickled out and soured on the linens. One night, he came to me like a ghost in the night, when all I thought I wanted was my tears, and he put his mouth there and suckled me.” Nadia swallowed hard, telling Elisa the woman was silently weeping. “I felt his tears as well, dropping on my breasts in the darkness. He was gone once it was light. But not because of the sunlight. He stays away because I’ve made him stay away, and yet I want him so close as well. How do you explain a woman’s heart to a male at a time like this, when even we don’t understand it? How can I love him more than breath and yet hate him and the whole world at the same time?”

Her voice was a bare whisper. Elisa wondered if she knew her Master was listening to every syllable. She thought she heard a falter in Marshall’s conversation with Mal, absorbing the blow of those words.

Elisa slid around to her side, pulling up a straight chair. Pressing her leg against Nadia’s, she put her arm around the taller woman’s shoulders and took her other hand. “Sometimes life is so horribly cruel that none of us can make sense of any of it. You need to give yourselves time. When something awful happens, sometimes we’re like children. We want it to be fixed and all better right away. We want it to make sense. But things like this . . . Oh lovey, there is no why to it. It was a truly horrible thing. I don’t think anything will ever make up for what you’ve lost. But we all have to go on.”

Nadia opened the book again, looked down at the album. “I don’t want them to be a substitute. That wouldn’t work, and it’s not fair.”

“I don’t think that would happen. They’re not babies, and as much as I fall into calling them children, which aggravates Mal, I know they’re not. They’re young vampires that need home, family. Protectors.”

“Do you think they would need me?”

“Without question.” Elisa was sure of that one. She squeezed Nadia’s hands, met her gaze head-on. “The way they bonded to me, they remember their mothers, if only as a ghost in their minds. I think they’ll need that, as well as Lord Marshall’s firm hand and kindness, to feel like they can make it in the world . . . and maybe they’ll help you, too.” She drew a breath. “I lost someone so dear to me, in a most horrible way. If I hadn’t had the care of these childr—fledglings, I wouldn’t have seen the point of anything.

“As many hideous things as I’ve seen happen to people, even if I can’t explain most times why they happen—though sometimes I can, when they’re worthless bludgers”—she gave her a quick, teasing nudge—“one thing I’ve seen happen, over and over. A person figures out how to deal with it, and down the road, they appreciate the good things again. It’s not some big, miraculous moment, and it always takes far longer than we expect. Just all of a sudden, one day, they realize they enjoyed sitting out in a spot of sunshine, or something made them laugh that hadn’t made them laugh in a while. Or they reach out and touch someone they haven’t, just because they want to do so and it feels good.”

Nadia glanced over her shoulder, to the profile of her Master. “He can’t wait that long. He’ll have to put me aside.” In her voice, Elisa could hear how that would be the final coffin nail. Nadia wouldn’t survive that. She’d beg for death instead.

Elisa put her other hand over Nadia’s, squeezed hard enough that the woman’s eyes came back to her. “He won’t. I’ve been in your house less than a day, and I can tell how that man feels about you. You may be his servant, but you’re his heart. And it’s broken. All he wants is the chance to fix it, to bandage it, and make it better for you. Let him in, and don’t be afraid. I’d lay money he’ll stick by you, no matter how long it takes.”

“How good a gambler are you?”

“I usually win money at the station house races.” Elisa gave her a wink. “I know what horse has the most heart, the one that will bust his arse to win.”

Nadia let out a strangled hiccup of a chuckle, but then her gaze lifted, went back to her vampire. Elisa saw that heavy yearning come back into her eyes, the one she’d had when she sat on his chair arm alone, rubbing the place where his hand had been before. Need was overflowing in the woman’s face, like the tears that were still making slow tracks down her face.

Marshall stopped in midsentence, looked toward her. “Everything all right?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “But things don’t feel awful right now.”

He seemed to mull that over, glancing at Elisa. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said carefully.

“My lord . . .” Nadia pushed out of the chair, almost stumbling, but Elisa steadied her with a hand, catching the book as it fell from her lap. Marshall rose immediately, but Nadia drew herself up, pale and fragile there, outlined by the windows. Her body was starting to shake, the woman like a dam near breaking.

“I need you to take me to your bed. I need you to hold me while I cry out a thousand tears. Maybe a million. And I need you to be inside of me, holding me so close, so that I don’t break into pieces and blow away like glass shards. I’m so frightened, but I need you not to take no for an answer. I am dying inside of my head, and I need you to be the Master you’ve always been to me. You’ve been gentle, but I need your ruthlessness too.”

As her voice faltered, her eyes lowering, Elisa had the rare treat of seeing a vampire look poleaxed. “I hope you can make sense of all that in my mind, because I can’t explain it better than that. I’ll probably need to go through that over and over again for a while, because I’m not sure if tomorrow will be better, or the next day. But I want to find those better days, and I can only do that with you. Please . . .” Her voice broke. “Please don’t give up on me. Don’t set me aside. Elisa says you won’t, but—”

In a blink too fast for Elisa to follow, Marshall was there, pulling Nadia against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. “I will never allow you to be anywhere I’m not. Not ever. Even if you begged for death, I would go into the sun before I let you be without me. I cannot bear your pain.”

Inches away from them both, Elisa was caught up in that fierce declaration, her body transfixed by the harsh truth of it. There was only one word that covered it, but she wasn’t brave or strong enough to say it in her mind. It was too close to her own painful yearnings.