Vivian nearly went mad from worry as she waited for Rhys to return. A multitude of fearful scenarios flitted through her imagination. Madame Renarde had died on the journey and Rhys had to bury her. They’d both been caught by her uncle and Rhys was locked in a dungeon and being tortured. Or they’d been set upon by other rival vampires.

As the hours passed, Vivian’s gaze constantly strayed to the clock at Rhys’s bedside. How long was the journey supposed to be? She rubbed a crick in her neck from the constant turning, but couldn’t seem to stop her pointless surveillance of the ticking minute hand. Dawn drew near, she could feel it. Because Rhys and her uncle remained indoors all day, she knew the myth that the sun was fatal to vampires had to be true.

Panic bloomed in her chest. If he didn’t return soon, would that mean Rhys had perished? Or was he simply delayed, forced to take shelter in some crypt or cellar?

The click of the lock on the door made her jump. Then elation infused her being as Rhys strode into the cave, looking pale and exhausted.

She slipped off her cot and dashed across the cave to meet him, grasping his hands as if to verify that he was truly here.

“You’ve come back!” she exclaimed, and immediately felt insipid for stating the obvious. “I mean, how was the journey?”

Rhys’s fingers, icy from the chill night air, brushed over her knuckles. “Long. We had to stop at an inn, so Madame Renarde could warm herself.” Despite the coldness of his fingers, his touch seared her. “Your companion is a very formidable person.”

That may be so, but worry churned her stomach as she recalled Madame Renarde’s horrible, ratcheting cough and the clammy feel of her skin when she’d embraced Vivian and told her farewell. “Was she delivered back to Uncle safely?”

“I assume so.” Rhys looked down at her with a deep frown. “I could not risk escorting her straight to the gate, but I brought her as close as I could.”

His guilt-stricken face made her chest tighten. Vivian’s grip tightened on his hands. “She was more ill than she let on, wasn’t she?”

Rhys met her gaze directly. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yet I made her walk to Thornton Manor all the same. I had no choice, if I were to return to you.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “Most men would have evaded the question and tried to reassure me with worthless platitudes to assuage my fears.”

“You are not the sort of woman to be swayed by such men.” He eyed her with what looked like respect. “And I am not the sort of man to have the patience to dither.”

“Thank you for that,” she said, holding his gaze. “All my life, people have danced around the truth instead of facing it with honesty. It is one of the things I detest about being a woman. People think I should be treated like a child, coddled and shielded from the harsh truths of the world.” The impulsive outburst brought a flare of heat to her face. What was it about this man—vampire—that inspired her to blurt whatever thoughts crossed her mind? She brought the matter back to the present. “I ah, am pleased to see you returned safely as well.”

His low laughter was like warm chocolate. “Are you saying that because you didn’t want to be trapped in this cave, or because you had any concern for me?” He then pulled her into his arms, holding her so tight she could feel his heartbeat against her ear. “On second thought, do not answer. I wish to savor this warm welcome from a beautiful woman.”

Shock reverberated through the core of Vivian’s being. Not only at the sudden embrace, but at his question. It had not occurred to her that if Rhys hadn’t returned, she would have been trapped in the cave. She’d been too consumed by worry for Madame Renarde and Rhys to have thought of herself.

Now, in the warmth of his embrace, with their hearts pounding together, Vivian’s belly quivered with the same sense of excitement she’d experienced with his kiss. A chord of fear reverberated through her being. She’d read the old French fairytale of the beautiful woman who’d been held captive by a fearsome beast only to fall in love with him.

Was she falling in love this beast? A vampire who fed on the blood of innocents? Such would be folly. In the story, the beast held the beauty because love would break his curse. Rhys held her for money needed to save his family. And she doubted that love or anything else would break his curse and change him back to a human.

But oh, he felt so wonderful in her arms. So warm and safe. And the heavy thud of his heart made her suspect he felt the same.

A thought struck her. Weren’t vampires supposed to be dead? She looked up at him. “You have a heartbeat.”

“Yes.” His lips curved in a mirthful smile. “Contrary to myth, we vampires are not reanimated corpses. Another sort of magic grants us our powers and eternal life.”

“Magic?” She wanted to scoff at the word, yet she couldn’t. Not with a creature from legend standing before her, holding her in his arms.

“I do not know what else to call it.” He drew back slightly, though his grip remained on her arms. “There is something else, though.”

“What?”

His lips curved in an impish smirk. “Your chaperone had only just departed and already we are in an improper embrace.”

“Oh.” She stepped back and regarded him with a frown. “But you initiated it.”

“That I did.” He walked further into the cave and gathered wood from the pile to build up the fire. “A mistake on my part. However, I’d expected you to be afraid of me after learning that I am a monster.”

“I know I should be.” Vivian suppressed her warring desolation at the breaking of their embrace and confusion at the emotions he’d wrought as she filled the tea kettle with water. “But you’re simply not very monstrous.”

He looked over at her and bared his fangs. His eyes glowed like banked coals. The effect was strangely beautiful. “I could be monstrous.”

“But you’re not.” She ignored the tilt in her belly. “You cannot hurt me because you need that money for your family’s farm. And speaking of, what monster cares enough for his loved ones to endanger himself to save them?”

Rhys took the kettle from her with a sigh and set it on the grate. “Very well, I admit to being soft when it comes to Emily and the children. But you are mistaken about yourself. While it’s true that I will not kill or injure you, I have already hurt you.”

“When you bit me?” She laughed even as a trill of pleasure flared through her lower body at the memory of his mouth on her neck. “Don’t be silly.”

Rhys shook his head and took two mugs from one of his myriad shelves. “No, my bite didn’t harm you, but the knowledge that your uncle and I are vampires may destroy your future.”

“What do you mean?” Vivian recalled Madame Renarde’s words when Rhys had revealed his identity. “You’ve doomed us all!”

“It is forbidden for humans to know of the existence of vampires. We’d be hunted to extinction otherwise.” Rhys prepared the tea, avoiding her gaze. “I do not know what your uncle shall do about it when you are returned to him.”

Dread crawled up her spine. “What is he expected to do?”

“Typically, the human is to either be killed or Changed.”

“Killed?” she echoed, rubbing her arms as a sudden chill swept through the cave. “You think my uncle might kill me?”

“No.” Rhys shook his head quickly and handed her a steaming cup of tea. “I can tell that he cares for you too much to do such a thing. I assume that when you are returned to him that he will either arrange to have you Changed, or he will do like the primary Lord of London did when he married, and... bend the rules.”

“What about Madame Renarde?” Vivian asked as a horrifying realization overtook her. “She’s a servant, and an... unconventional person. Will Uncle kill her because you told us his secret?”

Rhys fell silent, hands cupped over his tea mug. “I have hopes that he will be able to vanquish her memory of what she’s learned.”

“That can be done?” While the core of her being revolted at the thought of someone manipulating her friend’s mind, or her own for that matter, hope for Madame Renarde’s life being spared was more important.

“Yes.” Rhys continued to avoid her gaze and sipped his tea. “If the subject hasn’t spent too long mired in our world, a vampire as old and powerful as the Lord of Blackpool should be able to make a person forget all about our kind. Few humans are immune to our influence.”

“And if it’s been too long?” Vivian set her tea aside and clenched her fists. Anger and fear suffused her soul. “Or if Madame Renarde is immune?”

Rhys sighed. “I do not know.”

A red haze of fury fell like a curtain over her vision. Vivian launched across the few feet separating them and grasped the lapels of his coat. Hot tea sloshed all over their clothes, but she barely felt the scalding liquid.

“Damn you!” Her fists beat at his chest. “You put my only friend’s life at risk on a pile of unknown assumptions? You are a monster. I thought you returned Madame Renarde to my uncle so that she wouldn’t die from her illness, not so she could face a death sentence for something that is not her fault.”

Rhys grasped her wrists as she struggled and cursed. “I apologize, but you must calm yourself.” His grip was unyielding as iron manacles, but Vivian thrashed against him, blind with rage.

“Calm?” A hysterical laugh bubbled from her lips. “How can I be calm when you’ve told me that you may have sentenced my friend to death?”

She tried to kick him, but he was too quick. He pulled her closer to him and rolled so that he lay atop her, pinning her with his weight. “Be still!”

The shock of this new position knocked the breath from her body. She tried to buck beneath him, but only succeeded in becoming more aware of his solid frame.

“Why did you tell us what you are?” She fought for mental clarity under the dizzying sensation of his body pressed so intimately against hers. “You already held me as a hostage. Why risk our lives?”

Rhys closed his eyes in silent concentration before opening them to meet her gaze. “As I’d told you and Madame Renarde before, your uncle thought he was dealing with a mortal man. Now that he knows his opponent is another vampire, perhaps he’ll take the threat of you being in my care more seriously, especially now that you lack a chaperone.”

“You could have released her without divulging knowledge that endangered us!” Vivian shifted once more, trapped beneath his weight and iron grip on her shoulders. “What would be the difference between the threat of my being ravaged by a man or by vampire?”

She squirmed beneath him once more, then froze as she became aware of his hard length pressed between her thighs. Madame Renarde had told her that men’s members grew large and firm when they were ready for the marital act.

Rhys seemed aware of it too, for he spoke through gritted teeth as if her movement had pained him. “Do not speak of my ravaging you. Not when you’re... not now.”

Was he not going to...? Some strange recklessness overtook her. “Answer my question,” she demanded.

“The difference is that a vampire cannot marry you. Not unless he Changes you into a vampire as well.” Rhys panted with ragged breaths as if he’d been the one struggling rather than her. “And either way, a vampire cannot give you children.”

She frowned in confusion as his erection pulsed between them. “But you’re not... ah... impotent.”

He growled, and his eyes took on that eerie amber glow once more, yet Vivian wasn’t afraid, even when he bared his fangs as he spoke. “Our bodies are capable, but our seed does not take root.” He muttered what sounded like a curse in some foreign language. “You are making it very difficult for me to focus on the point.” His lips brushed against hers so quickly she could have imagined it before he shifted off her and pulled them both back up to a sitting position. “If I release you, will you refrain from trying to pummel me?”

She nodded. Only when he set her beside him and moved his hands from her shoulders did she realize that the bodice of her dress was soaked with spilled tea. Rhys’s shirt was also drenched. She could see the outline of his nipple through the damp fabric.

He turned slightly to conceal the bulge in his trousers and cleared his throat. “As I was saying, your uncle should be concerned that I may take it into my head to make you a vampire.”

“Why, if he will have to turn me into one anyway?” The circular reasoning escaped her. The distraction of his presence had her mind at sixes and sevens. Her gaze narrowed on his face as she tried to avoid looking at his lap. Tried to avoid thinking of the effect their closeness had on him.

“He may be able to avoid turning you.” Rhys handed her a handkerchief to blot at her damp bodice. “But if he did Change you, then you would be a legitimate vampire, under his authority and protection. Whereas, if I did so, you would be a rogue vampire.”

His ominous tone made her shiver. “What is a rogue vampire?”

“Madame Renarde aptly read me,” Rhys said, his face drawn as if confessing something heinous. “A rogue is an outcast among our kind. One who was banished by his lord for committing a crime not deemed severe enough for an immediate death sentence. But in a way, it is still a death sentence for many, because rogues are hunted and killed by most legitimate vampires. Sometimes, they are given a trial by a lord of a territory and even more rarely, granted legitimacy under the new lord. But those who were Changed by rogues do not have that good fortune. They are perceived as worse than bastards, for their Change was not sanctioned by a Lord Vampire.”

Dizziness threatened to overtake her at this influx of information about this society of creatures she’d only just learned about. “What crime did you commit, to be banished by your lord?”

“I continued to disobey him and leave his territory without permission,” Rhys said. “A vampire must always have a writ of passage from his lord before he travels out of a territory. But my former lord would not grant me leave to see my family. He firmly believed that vampires should abandon their mortal descendants. Emily and the children needed me. I had no choice but to go to their aid.”

Vivian’s heart constricted with sympathy. “Your lord exiled you for seeing your family? That is so cruel!”

“Many could see it that way.” Rhys leaned forward, elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his hands. “However, it can also be regarded as pragmatic. Vampires are discouraged from maintaining connections to their human relations because the risk of our secrets being revealed is heightened and brings danger to both the vampire and their kin.” His voice lowered. “Just as I’ve endangered you.”

“And Madame Renarde,” Vivian reminded him sharply. She was still furious and terrified to learn about the implications of that situation even though her companion could have died had she remained in the cave. Then something else niggled in her mind. “But my uncle is a Lord Vampire and he took me under his roof when I created a scandal during my London Season. A Season that he paid for when my last one failed to bring a match.” In fact, she suspected that Uncle had paid for her previous failed Season as well. “Clearly, it is not an anomaly for vampires to care for their families.”

Rhys shrugged. “Not an anomaly, but most certainly a privilege few can afford.”

Undaunted by his cynicism, she pressed for solutions to his problem. “Are vampires permitted to move? To seek another lord?”

“In theory, yes.” His mirthless laugh gave her chills. “But first one’s lord must permit a vampire to seek a new territory. Then the vampire must apply to the lord of the place he wishes to move to and pray for acceptance. Do you think I would not have tried doing so before becoming an outlaw?”

Vivian flinched at his bitter tone. “Your lord refused to allow you to petition to move?”

“Oh, he allowed me to apply.” Again, that bitter laugh erupted. “Yet he refused to provide me with a reference. The vampire who made me gave me one, but it wasn’t good enough. Blackpool and all neighboring Lord Vampires denied my applications with alacrity.”

She sucked in a breath at his words. He’d tried to appeal to Uncle Aldric the honorable way first, but had been turned away. Much as she wished she could disapprove of him turning criminal, she could understand his motives. “References? You are like servants!”

“Serfs, more like.” Rhys spat in the fire. “Servants have more rights.”

His anger, justified as it was, alarmed her. Vivian tried to shift the topic. “Tell me about your family.”

As she asked the question, she realized that she was honestly curious about these people who’d inspired such devotion from this vampire.

Rhys’s furious countenance softened at the very mention of his family. “Emily is the strongest, most hard-working woman I know. Sadly, she is also the most soft-hearted, as well. She fell for a scheming ne’er do well who cleaned out her meager dowry and mortgaged her farm before having the good graces to get himself shot for cheating at cards. Yet while he did his utmost to neglect her and drain the farm dry, she has managed the farm on her own and kept up with the payments until a bad harvest set her back. All while raising her children to be honest, honorable, and as industrious as herself.”

Vivian found it fascinating that he praised such qualities that he now lacked. Also, to her surprise, she experienced a pang of envy for his admiration of a widowed farm worker, someone of the lower classes that her father sometimes scorned. The memory of Father’s disdain filled her with distaste. What had she or her father done to earn a living? They may have more wealth than the working class, but that had been inherited. They lacked any noble titles and were considered poor relations by most of Society, which was one of the reasons Vivian had trouble finding a husband.

Perhaps this was the source of ghastly green jealousy fermenting in her belly for this Emily. It couldn’t be anything else. And yet... “How are you and Emily related?”

“She’s the great-great granddaughter of my brother,” Rhys said. “As I look too young to be an uncle, I merely introduced myself to her as my cousin when I attended her wedding. We’ve exchanged letters ever since.”

Vivian’s eyes widened at all the “greats” and she tried not to think about the fact that cousins often married, especially distant ones. “How old are you?”

“One hundred and twenty-six.” Rhys regarded her with a challenging stare as if he expected her to be appalled.

She wasn’t appalled, but she was astonished that he’d been on this earth for over a century. How many kings had he lived through? Three? Or was it four? “You must have seen much change in the world.”

“I have. But now all I wish to see are the insides of my eyelids. It is past dawn and I wish to get out of these wet clothes.” He yawned and stretched, his fangs glistening deadly sharp in the firelight. She thought of all the times he’d covered his mouth before, when laughing or yawning.

Rhys rose from the cot and unbuttoned his shirt. Vivian remained frozen, rapt as his broad, muscular chest was bared to her. A chest that had been pressed against hers not too long ago. She swallowed as her mouth went dry and he turned and cocked his eyebrow. “You are not planning on sleeping in a gown soaked with tea, are you?”

“Of course not!” she left his cot and pulled down the privacy curtain in front of her bed. She pulled her rumpled night shirt out of the trunk where Madame Renarde kept their clothes and immediately encountered a problem. “Ah, Rhys?”

“Yes?”

Heat flooded her face. “I... cannot reach the buttons on this gown.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you like for me to assist you?”

“Please.” Aside from being damp, the garment was too tight in the shoulders and bodice and dreadfully uncomfortable.

He came behind the curtain and she turned her back, not only so he could reach the buttons, but so he wouldn’t see her blush.

His breath was warm on the back of her neck as his fingers worked their way down the multitude of buttons. Though he unfastened the buttons briskly, making as little contact as possible, she shivered at every light touch of his fingers.

“That’s the last one,” he whispered, as he released a button at her lower back. “I’ll leave you to it and build up the fire.”

The moment he left, she felt the cold. Hurriedly, she struggled out of the gown and thanked the heavens that she didn’t have to wrestle with stays. Then she shrugged out of her shift donned the night shirt, and climbed into the cot.

Wrong as it was, Vivian peered around the curtain to see if Rhys had removed his trousers, and fought back disappointment to see his shadow through the barrier, climbing into his own bed.

As she lay in her cot, watching the light and shadows play across the bamboo curtain and cave walls, she worried about Madame Renarde. Had her uncle fetched a doctor for her, or had he killed her? No, he couldn’t have. For one thing, Vivian refused to believe Uncle Aldric would be so cruel, vampire or no. For another, Madame Renarde was exceedingly clever. She would have withheld information to preserve her life, if needed.

Still, Vivian worried. She also felt her companion’s absence in other ways. Without a chaperone, Rhys’s nearness was a palpable thing. In fact, all propriety that had been observed with Madame Renarde’s presence had been abandoned almost immediately. They’d embraced, then she’d tried to pummel him, gotten them both wet with tea, and then he’d been on top of her. He’d kissed her again too. She bit her lip as her lower body pulsed at the memory. And now he’d even helped her undress.

She was already beyond compromised. Yet she could not bring herself to regret it. In fact, she wanted more. Even his bite had been pleasurable.

Was he suffering from the same temptations as she was? Or was it only her blood he craved? Blood, she reminded herself. He was a vampire. He drank blood to survive. That prompted another thought.

“Rhys?”

“What?” he grumbled.

“Is it difficult for you, having me so close?”

She heard what sounded like his fist striking his pillow. “Difficult in what way?”

Her fingers tangled in the hem of her blanket. “Does it make you hungry?”

“Yes. In more ways than one. Now go to sleep, or I’ll bite you.” His bedcovers rustled as his shadow rolled over.

He would do no such thing. Vivian knew it. Unlike Lord Summerly and other so-called gentlemen that she’d known in her life, he would never hurt her, or try to ravage her against her will.

As her eyes closed, it occurred to her that it was a sad state of affairs when a vampire could be trusted more than most men to behave himself. And it was completely mad that she wasn’t so certain that she even wanted him to behave.