The next night, Rhys returned from his hunt in a less than satisfied state. Vivian’s words echoed in his mind as he slapped the newspaper against his hip.

“Is it difficult for you, having me so close? ...Does it make you hungry?”

His cock had hardened immediately when she’d asked those impudent questions and he’d licked his fangs in memory of the sweet taste of her blood. His thirst had been easy to tamp down, but his arousal had stubbornly remained throughout the morning, taunting him with memories of how her soft body had felt beneath his. The pounding of their hearts, the heat of her breath against his ear. The memories had turned to feverish imaginings of stripping off her gown, claiming her lush lips with his own, and their naked bodies entwined on his cot.

For all his admonishments for her to sleep, it had been an eternity before he’d been able to find his own slumber. Only to be tormented by erotic dreams.

By the time darkness had fallen, Rhys had to flee the cave lest he forget his vow to keep Vivian untouched. Slaking his bloodthirst on a tavern wench had only taken the edge off his feverish madness.

And now he had to return to the source of his hellish temptation. Some mad demon within looked forward to it. And to be truthful, Rhys had been lonely, such was the life of a rogue vampire. Having someone to converse with, to read with, and fence with had filled a void within him.

But it was all to end soon. If the Lord of Blackpool agreed to the terms of the ransom letter Rhys had sent with Madame Renarde, then Vivian would return home in four nights’ time. An ache burrowed deep in Rhys’s chest even as he cursed himself for the lowest of fools. He would miss her terribly.

When he returned to the cave, Vivian didn’t rush to him and clasp his hands as she had last night. He tried to tamp down disappointment even as his gaze roved over her captivating smile and blushing cheeks. She was pleased to see him. Yet he should not care.

Still, he returned her grin and held up the newspaper. “Guess what I’ve brought?”

Her blue eyes widened, and she clasped her hands together with girlish glee. “More ‘Two Hills?’”

He nodded and drew the paper back when she tried to snatch it from him. “I will only hand it over if you promise to read aloud while I prepare your breakfast. You are not the only one who wishes to know what happened to Constable Daleson.”

“I promise.” Vivian quivered with visible impatience. “Who do you suppose shot him? I think it was the Widow Josephine.”

“Preposterous,” Rhys snorted, though he always enjoyed her theories. Sometimes, she even guessed correctly. “She has no motive.”

“I think that she thinks she does,” Vivian argued. “But we shall see, won’t we?”

Under the spell of her enthusiasm, he handed her the paper and removed a heavy pack from his shoulders containing more food, fresh water, and fuel for the lanterns. As Vivian read, he prepared a breakfast of ham, eggs, and porridge.

She handed him the paper when he offered her the plate and he picked up reading where she left off. To their disappointment, the mystery was not solved in this issue. Instead, they were left with more questions.

“Who was that large apparition who visited the constable?” Vivian asked when he set the paper aside. “Do you suppose he was a dream, or could he be one of the fairy folk?”

They speculated for at least a quarter hour, and then spent even longer trying to parse the riddles the apparition had told the constable.

Vivian sighed blissfully as Rhys cleaned the dishes and cookware. “Do you know what I love most about this story?”

He tried to tear his gaze away from her radiant face. “What?”

“That I have no idea how it will end. Most tales have a sense of where the characters will end up on their journey, but not this one.” She reached for a basket next to her cot and pulled out one of his stockings, along with a needle and thread. “With all the strange events and blurred lines between fiction and reality, who knows what will become of these odd characters?”

“Yes!” Rhys exclaimed, delighted not only with her understanding of the appeal of such an eccentric story, but also with the sight of her mending his clothing. He tried to remind himself that the gesture meant nothing. Ladies sewed and embroidered to occupy their time. But the domestic picture she presented made his chest tight with yearning for the impossible.

Vivian stitched a hole in his stocking with deft practice and reached for another garment in the pile. “I’m reminded that our stories are similar in their unpredictability and ventures to the unknown. Only the good Lord knows how our journeys will end.”

Her naïve optimism crushed his already flagging spirits. “No,” he said coldly as he returned the clean pots and pans to their proper shelves. “I do know how they’ll end. Even if I’m able to secure the money to save Emily’s farm, your uncle will ensure that I am hunted down and executed. You’ll be cheated out of a future with a husband and children, as your uncle will either Change you into a vampire or set you up in a life of luxury to ensure your silence on his secrets.”

Vivian flinched and stared at him with wounded eyes. Then her lips thinned, and she lifted her chin. “No. I refuse to accept that you’ll die. I will talk to Uncle, do what I can to dissuade him from searching for you.”

Rhys’s lips curved in a grim smile. If only things were that easy. Sadly, no Lord Vampire would allow a rogue vampire to inflict such damage on his kin and be permitted to live. Not if he wanted to save face. “That is very kind of you, considering all I’ve put you through.” Not wishing to spend what little time they had left arguing, he changed the subject. “You’ve been cooped up in this cave for too long. Why don’t we fence for a while?”

Instead of an enthusiastic agreement, Vivian regarded him with a stormy glare. “Why should we bother? With your preternatural speed and abilities, you’ll just win. I cannot believe you’d been toying with me this entire time, drawing out our duels when you could have defeated me in a trice.”

Rhys chuckled at her blazing indignation. “Why should we bother? For one thing, swordplay is not about winning, Vivian. It is for the enjoyment of the dance. And I very much enjoy dancing with you. For another, just because you cannot move with a vampire’s swiftness does not mean I cannot teach you new techniques.”

Her lashes lowered and her cheeks pinkened at the mention of dancing. Then her anger melted like snow beneath a sunbeam. “You would teach me?”

“Yes.” He unlocked his sword case and handed her a rapier. “And you may have some tricks I have not learned.”

They sparred for two glorious hours. Rhys remained in awe of Vivian’s already formidable skill coupled with her quick grasp on the new moves he taught her. She even contributed a few new steps and attacks to his repertoire. Only when she was panting from exertion did he declare a stop.

Invigorated from the lessons, he escorted her back to the cave. “You did very well.”

“If I were a vampire, I may be able to defeat you,” she teased with a cheeky grin. “Perhaps if I become one, I’ll track you down for another match.”

Rhys’s blood went cold at her cavalier manner. “Do not jest about becoming what I am. Pray your uncle will have another solution to the problem I caused.”

Vivian paused, startled as she placed her rapier back in its case. “Is it truly so terrible, to be a vampire?”

At her wounded eyes, Rhys immediately regretted his harsh tone. “It does have its benefits, but I’ve lost so many things that I took for granted in my mortal days.”

“How did you become a vampire?” she asked as she rummaged through the cupboard where he stored the food.

Should he tell her? Rhys hadn’t spoken of that fateful time of his life since he’d lived under the rule of the Lord of Manchester and had friends with whom to share stories of their Changes.

He’d already broken several vampire laws where Vivian was concerned. What was one more? “I’ll tell you under one condition.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “And what would that be?”

“You tell me anything I ask about yourself.” He knew it was not only callous, but also fruitless to learn more about her, but the mysteries she withheld continued to tantalize him.

Vivian’s expression remained shuttered as she buttered a scone. After a long silence, she nodded. “Very well. I suppose if I can pry, so can you.”

“Let’s not think of it as prying on either side.” Rhys filled the kettle with fresh water and put it on the grate. “We’re only trading tales to pass the time, not so much different as reading Two Hills.”

She chuckled and took a bite of her scone. “That’s nothing like it and you know it. Two Hills is fiction. We’re discussing our lives.”

Rhys shrugged and took a piece of wood he was carving out from under his cot. “Very well, have it your way. In 1726, I was a privateer for the Royal Navy. However, we were indeed more like pirates, raiding any Dutch and Austrian merchant for their goods, using the Spanish War of Succession as justification. I loved the sea. The smell of the salt air, the excitement of keeping afloat during a storm, the rainbow of the sun across the endless blue water.” He smiled at the memory as he withdrew his carving knife. “I loved it so much that my wife left me.”

She sucked in a breath. “You had a wife?”

He shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. I was honor bound to wed her after I sheltered her from a storm when her carriage was overturned. We rarely saw each other, as I was away at sea almost all the time. I was also unfaithful to her, for there were tempting beauties at every port, and I was young and feckless, so I could hardly fault her for finding happiness elsewhere. I granted her an annulment and returned to my first love, the sea. Sadly, that love was taken from me soon after.”

“Why?” she asked somewhat sharply, doubtless disapproving of his infidelity.

Rhys grinned, happy to confess one of his more honorable moments. “I relieved my captain of some of his cargo.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You stole from your own captain?”

He shook his head. “I do not see it that way. You see, he was attempting to add slave trading to our illicit side ventures. While I did not object to pillaging vessels from enemy nations, this was too immoral and far out of the bounds of our royal duties. So, I released the slaves when we made port in Plymouth.” His chest tightened as he recalled the pitiful conditions of the captives and the wretched smell of their tight quarters. “I was sacked immediately. However, I also reported the captain’s unlawful activities to the Crown and he was arrested for piracy and unchartered trading.”

“And the slaves you released?” Vivian’s disapproving countenance had softened, replaced with an aching sympathy.

“I only encountered two afterwards. One set up a thriving business as a costume maker for the theater. The other joined the Royal Army. I know that others only wanted to return home, and I pray they found their way safely.” Rhys still wondered about their fates from time to time. His own was more dismal after his deed. “As for me, no captains would take me on after what I’d done, so I was forced to return home to Blackpool. Unfortunately, my father was outraged at both my annulment and my loss of my position. We’d never got on well in the first place, so it was easy for him to order me to leave the farm and never return. My brother inherited the farm after that. We exchanged letters after I settled in Manchester and labored on a small farm. I’m afraid I became a bit of a wastrel at the time, drinking my wages.” He favored her with a self-deprecating smirk. “One good thing came from it, I suppose. I made a friend. I cannot tell you his name, for his secrets are not mine to reveal. He was an odd fellow, nursed the same pint for hours at a time, but we conversed about topics of every nature. He was also one of the only people who saw honor in freeing the slaves and turning my captain over to the crown.”  Haunting sadness crept into Rhys’s memories at the mention of this friend.

“We met at the same pub for years. Then one night, I’d won a large purse on a hand of cards and was knifed in the back by a thief. Just when I thought I’d bleed to death in the alley behind the pub, my friend bit his wrist and healed my wound with his blood. That is how I discovered that he was a vampire. He then took me before the Lord of Manchester and I was given a choice for having my life saved. Either die, or become a vampire.” Rhys frowned, now knowing he was denied the third option. “I only learned later that my friend should have been able to erase my memory instead. I never got up the nerve to ask him if I was one of the rare mortals who are immune to mesmerism, or if he simply wanted me to join him so badly that he misled me.”

“What happened to him?” Vivian leaned forward, rapt with fascination.

“He was the one who told the Lord of Manchester that I was leaving the territory without permission.” The betrayal still stung. “He was the one who recommended that I be exiled.”

“But he was your friend!” Outrage rang in her voice.

Rhys nodded. “Yes, and he was a great mentor as well. However, he seemed to feel that since he Changed me, that meant that he had the right to control every aspect of my life. At first, I did not notice how controlling he was, because I was so grateful to him for not only teaching me everything about my powers and how to live as a vampire, but also for granting me a life of more wealth, comfort, and education than I ever would have been able to achieve without him. He even took me to see the world, once we had leave from our lord. But as the decades passed, living with him became more constricting.”

“Did he have an... ah...” Her cheeks flushed crimson. “...an interest in you that was more than mere friendship?”

Rhys’s jaw dropped in astonishment that she knew of such things. Madame Renarde must have told her. He coughed. “I’d sometimes wondered, but he never gave any indication that he thought of me in that manner, and as far as I was aware, he took female lovers.” Rhys hadn’t thought of John in years, of how their friendship had bloomed, then soured. “He lost interest in me after the first century, and began his quest to find a new companion more to his liking. Or maybe only more malleable. Yet he must have kept some attention on me, as my visits to my family were carried out with the utmost discretion. But one night, six years ago, I was arrested by the Lord of Manchester’s second and third in command, and forced to confess everything with my former friend standing by and supplying any information I left out. At his recommendation, I was exiled. I’ve been robbing carriages to help Emily regain the farm ever since.” Rhys set down his tea cup. “And that’s my tale as of now. Rather dull, I imagine.”

“Not at all,” Vivian said fervently. “To have lived such a long life, to have adapted to a new society and different challenges of survival is very fascinating. You must have seen and experienced so many things. Did you ever fall in love?”

“I thought I had, a time or two.” Rhys tried to ignore the twinge of heat at her saying that word. “But with mortals, you quickly realize that not only can you live without a person, you must. With other vampires...” He shrugged. “Most are already attached, and those who are not are generally disinclined towards devoting themselves to one being. Not when they’ve tasted freedom that mortal women cannot fathom.”

“Freedom.” She breathed the word like a prayer. “I would very much like to know how that feels.”

“From me?” That should he his first assumption, but something in her tone made him think she was talking about so much more. He remembered the conversation he’d overheard between Vivian and Madame Renarde. “Or from your marriage prospects?”

Although her reluctance to talk about her fears of marriage had nothing to do with their situation and were likely rendered invalid for her future, Rhys remained perversely curious about her unconventional views on the matter. Especially when she hadn’t so much as blinked when he’d told her that he’d likely cheated her out of having a husband. Emily’s distaste for the prospect of remarrying, he could understand, given how her first husband had destroyed her life. But Vivian had no such compass to steer her in the direction of spinsterhood.

When she avoided his gaze, her grasped her chin and tilted her face towards his. “You promised you would answer any question I am inclined to ask.”

For a moment, she looked as if she’d protest, then she sighed with resignation and drew back from him. “Very well. You’ll think me silly and spoilt, I warn you.”

“I’ve learned long ago not to discount a person’s feelings as silly, I assure you.”

She regarded him with a cautious smile as she refilled her tea cup. “I’m my father’s only daughter, and by the time I was born, my brother was already nearly full grown, so we never had a chance to become close. Mother died when I was only four, and I was given over to the care of my nanny and tutors.”

“That sounds rather lonely,” Rhys said. At least when he was younger, his father had been attentive. His mother had doted on him and his older brother had been his favorite playmate.

“It was.” The statement was matter-of-fact as she sipped her tea. “I hardly ever encountered other children, so I imagined playmates from the stories I read. That is likely why I was always so fanciful. Father took little interest in me until my seventeenth birthday. At first, I was overjoyed that he at last took notice of me and turned myself inside out to please him. But when he made it clear that his wish was for me to find a husband, I realized he only sought to rid himself of me.” The hurt in her eyes made Rhys long to take her in his arms. “Aside from Madame Renarde becoming my companion, three years ago, my introduction to Society was a resounding disappointment. With my plain looks and meager dowry, I was passed over in the Marriage Mart, year after year.”

“You are not plain!” Rhys interjected, outraged at the thought of this beauty speaking so dismally about herself.

Vivian laughed drily. “That is kind of you to say, but my father mourned the fact all my life. His worries proved correct as I languished as a wallflower. The man who wished for me to be his mistress flat out told me.”

“Well that proves the lie,” Rhys said, arching his brow in challenge. “Why would he want a plain mistress?”

Her hand froze with her teacup halfway to her mouth and she gave him a stunned look as if the thought had not occurred to her. “Perhaps it was my dowry that was plain.”

“Tell me more of this cad and his insulting proposal.” Rhys would love to wring his neck. “Was he the source of the scandal you and Madame Renarde alluded to?”

“Yes. Lord Summerly cornered me in the conservatory and attempted to...” Her features contorted in a grimace of disgust. “His hands were everywhere. Then Lord Falton and his wife opened the door and I was so humiliated and angry that I challenged Lord Summerly to a duel.” Her lips quirked up. A smile at last, but it vanished quickly. “Everyone was outraged at my challenge, while Summerly’s behavior was ignored. My father sent me off to Blackpool to stay with my uncle until the talk died down. Unfortunately, Uncle Aldric seemed to be just as eager to have me married off to be rid of me.”

“Likely to ensure you did not remain long enough to learn his secret.” Rhys could not believe that he was defending the vampire who was his enemy. The cold-hearted villain who would see Emily and the children forced from their home. Yet he had to admit that the Lord of Blackpool’s reasons for wanting to see Vivian wed was for the sake of her safety and his, rather than any dislike of his niece.

Furthermore, he could not stop himself from offering comfort. “I am certain Blackpool—er—Lord Thornton, is fond of you and cares for you very much.”

It was a discomfiting realization, that Rhys and the Lord of Blackpool had that in common, caring for mortal kin. The knowledge made it difficult to hate the man.

“If he cared so much, why hasn’t he paid the ransom?” Vivian asked with an accusing glare.

“The point of a ransom is that the hostage is not harmed, so he knew you were safe. Now that the stakes have changed, I am certain he will be in a hurry to deliver the money.” Rhys changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on what life would be like with her gone. “You still have not told me why you were so afraid of marriage.”

She attempted to hide an exasperated frown with her cup. “All my life, I’ve been told what I should want, but I’ve never felt that I do want those things. I know that I am expected to run my husband’s household, serve as a hostess for his parties, and bear his children. Yet little is said about sharing interests, a meeting of minds, or even fondness. And there seems to be no expectation about what a husband is supposed to do for me.”

“A lifetime of thing-hood,” he said, repeating the words he’d heard her say.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I do not wish for my husband to be like my father. Treating me like an inconvenient and uninteresting pet.”

“I am certain there are countless men who wouldn’t treat you in such a way.” Namely him.

“I do believe that. However, I spent so much time alone that I find it difficult to go about discerning which men would be inclined to enjoy my company.” Vivian set her cup aside and hugged her knees. “And it isn’t only about the men. I do not even know what I want, or what makes me happy. I know I enjoy reading, and Madame Renarde gifted me with a love of fencing, but other than that?” Her shoulders hunched. “How am I supposed to find a man who suits me when I don’t even know who I am?”

Rhys placed his hand atop hers. “I know who you are. You are a strong, courageous woman with an insatiable curiosity, quick mind, and a passion for living. You’re also a great beauty. All you require is confidence and a freedom to explore various interests to learn what incites your passion. I’ve seen how decisive you can be.”

“Do you truly believe so?” The hope in her voice tugged his heartstrings. He couldn’t bear to tell her that he’d likely ruined her marriage prospects.  

“I do.” He squeezed her hand. “And if I didn’t need the money for my family, I would have instead demanded your hand in marriage as my ransom.” The admission slipped out before he thought.

Silence fell between them as she stared at him in shock.

He cursed under his breath. “Forget I said that.”

“Rhys?” Vivian’s imploring eyes were large enough to drown in. “Could you show me what marital affection is like?”

Rhys froze. She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant... could she?