Be Mine Tonight (21 page)

Looking around, he searched the shelves for a book she might like, his keen eyes easily reading the titles from where they sat. “Would you like me to read to you?”

Pru shifted on the sofa so that she could lie down with her head on his thigh. She kept a hold on his hand as though afraid he might leave.

He wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight, not for a long time. He’d stay with her for the rest of her life if she wanted him to.

“Tell me about your life,” she commanded, closing her eyes. “That’s of more interest to me than some book.”

With his free hand, Chapel started plucking
pins from the thick coil of her auburn hair. He loved her hair, loved how it looked flowing free around her face and shoulders. The color was so rich, so vibrant. It caught the light like glowing embers and rich silk.

He plucked another pin from the thick bun. “I’ve told you much of it already.”

She didn’t open her eyes as she smiled. “Not six hundred years’ worth.”

He smiled as well, even though she couldn’t see it. “I suppose not. Would you believe there’s not much to tell?”

“Yes.”

Laughter broke free at her impertinence. She made him laugh, made him feel joy. “Minx. What would you like to know?”

“Were you close to your family?”

“Very much so.” In fact, he still remembered their faces, their voices and mannerisms, even after all this time.

Her eyes opened and he saw the darkness of her gaze. “It must have hurt to have to watch them grow old and die.”

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to lie to her. “But it has also been amazing to watch the generations following them grow and live.”

“Does that make it easier?”

“At the time, no, but time lessens the pain. When I think of them now, it’s with nothing but fondness.”

“But you told me that watching the people you loved die was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.”

“It is. The pain is for ourselves, Pru, not for those who have gone on. It has to lessen or we’d go mad with it.”

That seemed to appease her for the moment. She fell silent as she thought it over. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so truthful with her; it might make the idea of becoming a vampire even more appealing to her. She didn’t see it for what it was. All she saw was a way to avoid dying.

It was what he had seen when he first laid eyes on the Blood Grail—a way to postpone something he had been afraid of.

“Are you afraid to die?”

Either she was a mind reader or their ways of thinking were very similar.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “The morning I brought you in from the cellar I was afraid I’d die before I got a chance to see you again.”

That brought a little smile to her soft lips. “I was afraid that I’d die before I saw you again. I’m not afraid of dying, I just don’t want to do it this soon.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to make it easier for her, so he simply pulled the last pin from her hair and began combing his fingers through the thick strands, untwisting them until her hair spread across his thighs and spilled onto the sofa.

She closed her eyes. “Mmm. That feels nice.”

She liked it, so he kept doing it. He massaged her scalp as well. She sighed as he began rubbing little circles on her forehead.

“What were you like when you were younger?”

Younger didn’t have the same meaning to him that it once did. “When I was human, you mean?”

Her eyes were still closed as she shrugged. “Whichever you prefer.”

Chapel thought for a moment, conjuring a picture of his younger self in his mind. “Impulsive. Headstrong. Arrogant.”

“Really?”

“Why so surprised?”

She shrugged, her shoulder nudging his thigh. “Merely that you are neither of those now.”

Was he not? “I can be still, just in different ways.”

Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s the brooding. It hides everything else.”

“You make me laugh.” He grinned at her reaction.

She had a knack for telling him things no one else ever had. No one had ever thought of him as particularly amusing, never. “You’d never stop, if I had my way.”

Her eyes twinkled as they opened. “But if I never stopped laughing, we’d never get anything else done.”

His blood warmed as he caught the meaning in her tone. “We would find a way.”

Her gaze softened as she watched him. He’d do anything to take those dark circles away.

“Do you ever miss Marie?”

Why did she persist in asking about Marie? She was a painful memory, something he still felt terrible guilt over, but miss her?

“I’m not sure.”

She arched a fine brow. “I would think it would be an easy yes or no.”

“Would you? Sometimes, then.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was an honest one.

“Regrets?”

He massaged between her eyebrows with the pad of his thumb. “About Marie or my life in general?”

“Take your pick.”

“Yes.” More than he could count.

The other brow went up. “Yes to which?”

He smiled. She was so nosy. “Both. I have many regrets about Marie. I have even more about my life, but that’s the point, is it not?”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “I’ve never witnessed Gallic indifference until now.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure what it is you want from me.”

“Just the truth.”

He was giving her that. “When I give it, you seem to want more.”

All humor vanished from her expression. “I suppose I want to know if it was worth it.”

“If what was?”

“Drinking from the cup. Becoming a vampire.” She frowned a little and he tried to smooth the lines away with his finger. “Would you do it again if given the choice?”

Instinct told him to say no, but he couldn’t. If he hadn’t drunk from the Blood Grail, if he hadn’t become what he was, he wouldn’t be here now. He wouldn’t be sitting in this library, warm and cozy,
with this remarkable woman. He would have been dust centuries ago, killed by the poison on that blade, or by old age if he hadn’t gone on that mission for Philip.

He would have married Marie, but would they have been happy? Six centuries of wisdom told him that he hadn’t been the right man to give Marie what she needed, nor could she have given him what he wanted.

“Yes,” he told her. “I would do it again.”

A hint of a smile. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

He searched her gaze, looking for something, some reason for that hint of satisfaction he heard in her voice, but there was nothing. If he lived another hundred years he didn’t think he’d figure out how her mind worked.

Unfortunately, Pru didn’t have another hundred years.

“How do your fangs work?”

Many times he thought she was like a child with her questions and this was no exception. “They are retractable, like a snake’s.”

“Can you make them come out?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

He did, and hoped that it didn’t frighten her to see it. Pru watched with a wondrous expression as she observed his canines lengthening. She reached a finger upward—and pushed on the fang closest to her.

“So that’s what you bite me with.”

He willed his fangs to recede. “They are.”

“I wish I had fangs.”

“Why?” Another remark he’d never heard anyone else make. It wasn’t something he would have her wish for, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that.

“So then I could be a part of you the way you’ve been a part of me.”

His heart broke. “You are a part of me, Pru.” It was damn near impossible to speak with his heart in his throat. “You always will be.”

She stroked his jaw with her cool fingers. She was so fragile, so goddamn frail. “Chapel?”

“Yes, love?”

“Forgive me, but I hope it takes a long time for the pain of my loss to lessen for you.”

She was killing him. She had to know that, didn’t she?

“I think that’s a safe wager.”

He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he didn’t think the pain would ever lessen, because then he’d have to admit just how much she’d come to mean to him. She’d brought him out of hiding, and once she was gone, he had no idea how he’d ever bring himself to return to that darkness.

B
y the next afternoon, Pru was feeling more like herself, although still somewhat tired. She dined as usual with her sisters and then her father, who suggested the two of them go for a drive since it was such a lovely day.

Surprised, Pru readily accepted. She was even more shocked when her father suggested she do the driving!

“Why?” she demanded, suddenly suspicious. “Is something wrong? Are you ill?”

He chuckled at her scowl. “No. I simply thought you might want to show me what Chapel has taught you.”

She paled. “You know?”

Amusement lingered in his loving expression. “I’m your father. It is my automobile. Of course I
know. Besides, Chapel asked permission before he began giving you lessons. He was raised properly, you know. No sneaking around for that young man.”

Pru rolled her eyes. “First of all, he’s not young. He’s older than you and I and the girls all together. Second, do not make him into some kind of saint just because he asked to drive your precious Daimler.”

Her father’s amusement faded. “He saved all of our lives—yours twice. He can do whatever he bloody well pleases as far as I’m concerned.”

Pru’s eyebrows rose at her father’s colorful language, but she was more surprised by his meaning than his words.
Whatever
Chapel pleased?

She took his arm. “You do not care that he isn’t human, Papa?”

Slowly, they strolled through the house. “Oddly enough, I do not,” her father replied. “Perhaps it hasn’t truly sunk in yet, even though I saw the feats he is capable of with my own eyes, but no. I cannot bring myself to be the least concerned with what Chapel is when he has done so much for us. For you.”

Her head snapped up. “For me?”

There was that smile again. Her father looked so youthful and handsome when he smiled, much like the portrait of Devlin Ryland that hung in the great hall.

“He saved you.”

“Twice, yes. You mentioned that already.” She didn’t mean to sound short, but she didn’t quite understand what her father was getting at.

“Not just physically. He saved you emotionally, I think.”

She wanted to roll her eyes, even though a part of her knew him to be right. She smiled instead. “A philospher now, Papa?”

“Before he came along, all you thought of was finding the Grail.”

“Yes, well, we know that was fruitless, don’t we?” She still would like to find it, though. A hopeless dream, perhaps, but a dream nonetheless.

“Now you spend time with your family. Your sisters very much enjoy the luncheon ritual the four of you have.”

Did they? They hadn’t said anything to her. Of course, they didn’t really need to. “I enjoy it as well.”

He wasn’t done with his list. “You smile more now. You seem more at ease.”

“Perhaps I have simply accepted my fate and am determined to make the most of the time I have left.” It was an honest confession if ever she’d made one. She didn’t like her fate, but yes, she had accepted it.

He looked striken by her words and Pru instantly wished she could take them back. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you are in love.”

That her father could see through her so easily astounded Pru. It also needled her that she was so transparent. If her father could see it, who else could? Her sisters most certainly would have figured it out by now as well. Had Chapel?

Oh, God, please no. Don’t let him know.
The last thing she needed was for Chapel to realize how
she felt about him. She knew him well enough to know that he’d start feeling guilty. The last thing she wanted was for him to be carrying around regret for her for the next six hundred years like he had for Marie.

She didn’t want some woman in Chapel’s future thinking of her as “the cow” as she did Marie.

She didn’t want another woman in Chapel’s future at all.

“Does he love you?” Her father asked when the silence stretched between them.

“You tell me. You seem to know my own feelings better than I; perhaps you know Chapel’s as well.” It was a poor attempt at sarcasm. Her tone wasn’t even sharp.

“I would hazard a guess that he feels the same for you, but then I’m biased. I cannot imagine anyone not loving you, even if you are a saucy baggage.”

Leaning in, she gave her father’s arm a squeeze and briefly rested her head on his shoulder. A good cry would feel good right now.

“I lied, Papa. I said I had accepted my fate, but I haven’t, not quite. I’m still not ready to die.”

“My dear girl, I am not ready to lose you. I would trade places with you in an instant if only God would let me.”

He broke her heart. “He won’t. And neither would I.”

The Daimler sat waiting in the drive as they exited the house. Her father stopped a few feet short of the automobile, where a footman waited to assist them, and turned to her.

“I know nothing about these things, but Caroline…your sister seems to think that Chapel might be able to cure you. Is that true?”

How hopeful he sounded. How wistful. Tears burned her eyes, blurring her vision. “He could, but it would make me a vampire, Papa. I wouldn’t be human anymore. I’d be like Chapel.”

This didn’t seem to bother him. “I know that. I believe the benefits outweigh the negative aspects.”

Pru sighed. She detested explaining this situation to her family. She hated letting them down. “Chapel thinks of himself as a monster. He would rather die than make me into the same.”

“Monster?” He was clearly incensed. “But he’s a hero!”

That was one way of looking at it. “Not in his own eyes.”

Her father frowned. “Rubbish.”

Pru shrugged, trying to toss off the hurt. A little piece of her heart wanted to think that she meant so much to Chapel he would toss his convictions to the wind and turn her so they could be together—because he was unable to go on without her.

Obviously, that little piece was an idiot. She didn’t mean enough to him that he’d throw his beliefs aside, nor would he realize how stupid they were. He was a stubborn man who was willing to give up a future with her because he thought himself less that human.

“I’m going to have a talk with that boy,” her father announced, his jaw tight.

“Papa, no.” She didn’t care how whiny she sounded, she would add a pout and a foot stomp if she thought it would work. “You cannot change his mind.”

Her father’s expression was resolute. “I can try.”

Before Pru could argue with him further, he guided her to the driver’s side of the Daimler so the footman could open the door for her. She couldn’t very well continue this conversation in front of the footman and so she was forced to be quiet until they rolled down the drive.

Even then her father refused to discuss it any further, telling her to concentrate on her driving. She did—or rather, she tried to. Truth be told, it wasn’t long before all thoughts of their conversation drifted to the back of her mind. Driving made her feel so free, and her father actually praised her! Why would she want to think of anything else?

Their conversation came back to her when they returned to the house an hour later. It hardly mattered, however, as her father had visitors who arrived immediately upon their return. Pru would have to wait to make him promise not to talk to Chapel. She could only hope that in the meantime her father didn’t decide to take matters into his own hands.

The least she could do was warn Chapel that her father might attack him on the subject. He might not appreciate Thomas Ryland sticking his face into matters he didn’t understand. Pru didn’t understand, and she was in love with the man. It was difficult for her to conceive that the man she
thought so wonderful, so caring and brave, could think of himself as less than human.

In fact, that in itself was a very human trait. He hadn’t stopped being human, he was simply more. Why did he have to make himself evil? Was it because of the time period in which he’d been born? The church had been such a huge part of his life—it still was—and the church had told him he was a monster.

Perhaps there were monsters in this world, but she could never believe that Chapel was one of them.

Lifting the skirts of her pale green morning gown so as not to fall, Pru hurried up the stairs. She had to see Chapel, had to see his face, feel his touch. She had to try to find some way before she died to prove to him that he was better than he thought. Suddenly the thought of dying while he thought himself evil was simply too much to bear.

The corridor outside was empty and dim. He was now the only person residing in this wing, and so it was kept dark for him on purpose during the day—just in case. If the servants thought anything was strange about their guest, they kept quiet about it. Perhaps they, like her father, were prepared to overlook a great deal due to the fact that Chapel had almost singlehandedly saved them all from certain death.

Slowly, she opened his door, cringing as it groaned ever so slightly. She would have to get one of the footmen to oil the hinges. They couldn’t
have this door creaking when one of them was sneaking about in the night.

The room was dark—very dark. Pru ducked in quickly, so as not to be seen. When she saw the figure in the bed, she thought perhaps her precautions were for naught. He was burrowed beneath the blankets—his entire body curled into itself, his back to the windows, facing the door.

Like a rabbit in a burrow, she thought, smiling at the absurdity. An awfully big, handsome, brave rabbit.

She tiptoed across the carpet. Why she was being so quiet when she had come to wake him, she had no idea.

She was reaching for him when he jerked upright on the bed, snarling, wild and deadly.

“Chapel!” She flung herself backward, her heart pounding in terror. She landed hard on her rump on the floor. She should have known better. Should have known not to wake him. Hadn’t he warned them all after Father Molyneux left that they shouldn’t wake him?

Why had she thought she could make an exception?

But he hadn’t killed her. In fact, he seemed calmer now. He was sitting on the bed, a rumpled, naked delight, staring at her as though she were insane, which, of course, she was.

He ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Pru, are you all right?”

Was she? Her chest felt as though her heart had tried to bust right out of it, but otherwise she seemed fine. “Yes.”

She should have said no. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have frowned at her like that. At least she thought he was frowning. She couldn’t see him that well. “What the hell were you thinking?”

As quickly as her trembling extremities would allow, Pru righted her skirts and rose to her feet. “Obviously, I wasn’t.”

“I could have killed you!”

“But you didn’t.”

Her reassurance did nothing to take the distress from his features. “No. I realized it was you. Somehow. Thank God.”

There were those threatening tears again. Good Lord, she was turning into a watering pot! “I just wanted to be with you.”

He held his arms out to her—his naked, muscular arms. “Come here.”

She went eagerly, readily. He held the covers for her to slip beneath and she did so without hesitation, snuggling her fully clothed self against his deliciously naked one.

His hands stroked her back. “Has something happened?”

“No.” Her reply was muffled against his chest. He was warm and hairy against her cheek. She could stay here forever just to feel his comforting warmth.

“You really risked harm just to be with me?”

She wrapped her arms tighter around him. He sounded so surprised, so totally shocked. Why should that be such a surprise to him?

“Yes.” She would warn him about her father later. Right now all she wanted was to feel him
next to her. She just needed to be with him—where she felt alive and daring, yet safe and secure at the same time.

“Chapel?”

He kissed her forehead. “Yes,
ma petite
?” He sounded sleepy. He was drifting off again, she could sense it.

“Nothing. Go to sleep.”

She wasn’t going to tell him that she loved him.

At least, not yet.

“Prudence took me driving today.”

Chapel turned an astonished gaze to Thomas Ryland. “Really?”

Ryland chuckled. “You sound as astounded by the concept as I was, and I am the one who thought of it.” His brow pinched. “She had been after me for so long and I do hate to deny her.”

Astonishment gave way to an understanding smile. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“Do you?” Ryland turned to face him, sharply, purposefully.

Chapel cast a glance around the room. No one in the drawing room gave them the slightest bit of attention. Even Pru, who normally would be so curious, was wrapped up in some tale Caroline’s husband was telling the rest of the party.

“Is there something on your mind, sir?” He was hundreds of years Thomas Ryland’s senior and yet he felt the need to show him the respect of age.

Ryland took him by the arm. “May we speak candidly, Chapel? Privately?”

“Of course.”

Pru’s father released him, and led the way to the terrace doors. Outside, the night was cool and inviting, the scents of flowers and the sea on the breeze. They stood just outside the doors, blocking the way so no one could surprise them. Light from the drawing room spilled outside, allowing Thomas Ryland’s direct gaze to find him easily.

It was a stare that made Chapel uncomfortable.

“I will come directly to the point,” Ryland began, his gaze locked on Chapel’s. “I am told that you could cure Prudence of her…affliction.”

“With all due respect, sir, cancer is a little more serious than an ‘affliction.’”

His words were dismissed with a frustrated shake of Ryland’s head. “Can you cure it?”

Chapel folded his arms over his chest. The movement made his coat pull uncomfortably across his back. “I could, but I won’t.”

“Why not?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “It would mean turning your daughter into a vampire.”

“Yes, I understand that.” The terse words also told him that Ryland didn’t appreciate his tone.

“She would no longer be human.” Again, he spoke like he thought all of this should mean more to her father.