His Ruthless Bite | Historical Paranormal Romance: Vampires (Scandals With Bite Book 4) (17 page)

As the rogues nodded, Justus bared his fangs in a grim smirk. His spying on Gavin had at last revealed the reason for why the youngling had been chosen to be the next Baroness of Darkwood. The way Gavin had looked at Lenore, like she was an angel descended from heaven made Justus feel as if he were peering into a mirror. For that was how he’d looked at Bethany.

At long last, Gavin had fallen in love.

Justus clenched his fists in determination. Rochester had taken Justus’s love from him. Now it was time for Justus to take his.

Lenore attempted to shield her hair as she and Gavin exited the church while people cheered and threw rice and flower petals. Part of her wanted simply to depart for her new home, weary of being the center of attention. The other half wanted to further prolong the moment when she’d be alone with her new husband.

No matter her wishes, it seemed she’d be granted a reprieve.

Traditionally, after a marriage ceremony was a wedding breakfast, held at a hall or by the bride’s parents. Since it was night, there would be a wedding supper instead, hosted by Elena in lieu of Lenore’s parents. The following week, Lenore would host a ball at Darkwood Manor. The thought filled her with palpable dread. What if she did everything wrong?

Gavin pulled her back to the present as he pulled grains of rice from her curls and the lace of her veil. “An abominable tradition,” he said with a grin. “Being treated like pigeons in a park. My lady should be regarded with more respect.”

Her scalp tingled with his touch. Suddenly she became aware that this was the first time she’d ridden in a carriage alone with Gavin.

Her husband. The word echoed in her mind with heavy finality. In the days leading up to the event, he came in and out of Elena’s home like a dervish, quickly clipping out orders for the time and place of the nuptials. Elena took it all calmly, though with a degree of amusement as she reminded him of details such as flowers, the guest list, and the wedding supper. As the planning raced along, Lenore remained frozen in a state of confusion, wanting to contribute, but so overwhelmed with the rapid pace and details that she did not know where to begin, except to say she rather fancied jasmine and lavender.

Gone was the charming gentleman caller, in his place stood a pragmatic, impatient businessman, eager to conclude a bargain and move onto the next venture. In fact, Gavin hadn’t smiled at her or laughed with her in over a week.

And he hadn’t kissed her. The lump in her throat tightened every time he bid her goodnight with only a bow and a squeeze to her hand.

The only time he’d shown her a glimpse of his former affection was two nights ago, when he’d delivered her wedding gown. When she’d pulled the exquisite silver creation out of the carefully packed tissue paper, her breath had halted at the sight of such finery.

“Do you like it?” he’d asked, sounding nervous as she struggled to find the words.

Tears had burned behind her eyes as she caressed the elaborately embroidered silk. “It’s— it’s the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen.”

His usually firm lips curved in a radiant smile, reaching his eyes as they roved over her. “It is only fitting for your beauty.” He rose from the settee, his features once more stern and composed. “The first portion of your new wardrobe has been delivered to our home. I trust that you’ve begun packing what you have here?”

Lenore carefully packed away the gown and nodded.

“Good. I have some matters to attend to, so I shall leave you.” He gave her a quick, perfunctory kiss on the forehead and departed.

She didn’t see him again until the ceremony.

And now she would be at his side for the next half century.

She glanced at him through the corners of her eyes, scanning the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the gleam of his black eyes… the angles of his lips. His rich dark curls were tied back with a burgundy ribbon that matched his waistcoat beneath his formal black jacket and trousers. While most of upper class vampires preferred subdued blacks and grays, Gavin favored a splash of color. She couldn’t help but notice that it was very becoming.

And his hands, the first time in ages that she’d seen them without gloves, she’d forgotten how large and strong they were, how long and supple his fingers. She remembered how they’d felt entwined with hers in the church. The heat of his bare palm against hers, the strength of his grip, made her so dizzy she could barely follow the priest’s words and recite her own in time.

Looking down at her own hands, so small and pale compared to his, she couldn’t stop staring at her ring. The diamond was nearly as large as her thumbnail. The frame of glittering black stones reminded her of his eyes. But no matter how beautiful the ring, or how well it fit her finger, she couldn’t stop wondering how many other fingers it had adorned.

The carriage rolled to a halt in Elena’s drive behind a line of dozens of phaetons and barouches. Hanging lanterns illuminated the paths and gardens and a hired butler guarded the door to make certain only invited guests passed through.

A staff of borrowed servants carried trays of champagne flutes to refresh the guests while greeting the bride and groom in the receiving line where Elena led Lenore and Gavin to take their places.

“Lady Darkwood.” Elena curtsied deeply. “Let me be the first to offer my congratulations.”

Lady.
After so many years of wanting to be one, Lenore felt like a sham. Yet here she was, and it was her duty to play her part. “Thank you so much for the lovely supper. I can’t believe you put this together so beautifully.”

“And right beneath your nose,” Elena grinned. “Now let me have a look at your ring before you are swarmed by the others.”

Lenore blinked as she extended her hand. Hadn’t she seen it before?

Elena gazed at the ring for a long moment, her thumb grazing the diamond. “Simply stunning. Mine was not so fine.” Her lips curved in an impish smile. “Though at least it was better than Anne’s.”

“He doesn’t use the same ring?” Lenore whispered with surprise.

“Of course not! Lord Rochester would never be such a cad to part a woman from her jewels.” The vampire laughed as if Lenore had asked if the moon was made of cheese. “And your diamond is the largest of them all. I cannot contain my envy.”

Unable to hide her shame at her churlish assumption, Lenore gazed back down at the ring. The first piece of jewelry she’d ever owned, and it was uniquely hers.

Alas, she did not get to savor the moment. Just as Elena predicted, nearly every female in attendance surrounded her, examining every facet of her ring. Unbidden, she looked to Gavin. There would be no help from that quarter as he was equally flocked by gentlemen clapping him on the back and shaking his hand.

Lord and Lady Villar were the next to greet her. “Is he treating you well?” Cassandra asked softly.

Lenore nodded. “Thus far he has been the epitome of kindness.”

“Good,” Rafael scowled. “Because if he is not…” he let the words hang in ominous promise.

“He is, I swear,” Lenore quickly reassured him. The last thing she needed was to be the cause of a war.

The Lord Vampire of Cornwall and his bride were the next to greet her. Lady Deveril’s golden eyes danced with merriment as she admired Lenore’s wedding gown. “It is even more beautiful than when our seamstresses packed it away,” she drawled in her American accent. “You look like a fairy princess.”

By the time the receiving line ended, Lenore’s legs ached and her mouth was dry from thanking everyone.

The supper itself passed in a whirl. Lenore was so dazed by the new deference everyone showed her that it was all she could do to follow the conversations around her and make the proper responses before the dishes were cleared away.

Elena had cleared her drawing room for dancing and hired musicians. Lenore and Gavin led the first waltz.

As he turned her on the floor, Lenore looked up at him, somewhat nervous. “Th-the ceremony was beautiful.” Biting her lip, she cursed herself for stammering.

He nodded. “Yes, it was, rather. I am glad everything went according to plan.” He remained silent for the remainder of the dance, though he kept looking down at her with a strange expression as if he had more to say.

To her surprise, after only the second dance, Gavin declared that it was time to depart.

“But won’t that be rude?” she asked as he led her from the floor.

“On the contrary, it would be rude for us to linger... as well as imply that I am not eager to have my bride to myself.” He leaned in closer, studying her face. “Besides, you look a little fatigued. Did you sleep at all during the day?”

Lenore shook her head. “Not really.”

“Me neither,” he confessed. “One would think after getting leg shackled once every century, I’d be accustomed to weddings. Yet this one seems to be different, somehow.”

Before she could ask him to elaborate, he led her to Elena to announce their departure.

When they said their farewells, Lord Villar leaned in close and whispered, “Remember, if he mistreats you in any way, send me a message, and I will do all I can to bring you back home.”

The vampire’s whisper was not quiet enough. Gavin seized Lenore’s arm and glared at Lord Villar with malevolent black eyes. “My wife
is
home now,” he growled low, and led her away.

A heavy silence hung inside the carriage on their ride to Darkwood Manor. Lenore fought the urge to fidget with her skirts or ask if anything was amiss. A million questions caught in her throat.

When Gavin helped her out of the carriage, Lenore’s eyes widened at the sight of the servants lined up in front of the manse, standing ramrod straight in their starched livery. Like the gossips said, there were only ten, a paltry amount for such a large house, though she knew that the sparse staff was not due to Gavin lacking funds, but to minimize the risk of mortals discovering what he was.

“My loyal servants, please welcome my bride and your new mistress, Lenore Drake, Baroness of Darkwood. I know that you will all serve her faithfully and see to her every comfort.” As they all smiled and nodded, Gavin led her to each in turn, introducing the butler, the housekeeper, the cook, the housemaids, the gardener, and the carriage driver, and the footman. Nearly all were elderly, or had vision or hearing impediments, just like Elena’s servants.

Each one bowed and curtsied before her. Some regarded her warmly, while others eyed her with trepidation. From her own brief stint in service, Lenore knew what they were thinking. Would she be a kind mistress, or a tyrannical shrew? Though she vowed to be the former, it wouldn’t make a lick of difference if they knew she was a blood drinking monster.

“Mrs. Crain,” Gavin addressed the housekeeper as the butler and footman opened the door. “My lady wife has eschewed a lady’s maid. However, she does require a deft hand to attend to her magnificent hair. I recall that you used to serve as lady’s maid to the Duchess of Grantham.”

“I did, my lord.”

“Very good. Would it be an imposition to ask you to care for Her Ladyship’s hair? You would see an increase in your wages, of course.”

The elderly housekeeper beamed at Lenore. “I would be honored, my lady.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Crain,” Lenore said, trying to hide her puzzlement that her hair was Gavin’s first concern. Did he not like the way Elena had arranged it for the wedding? She thought it had never looked more beautiful.

“I am happy that’s settled. I am going to show my baroness to our chambers. She will ring for you when she’s ready to retire.”

Mrs. Crain bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, my lord.”

As Lenore walked with Gavin up the spiral staircase, her heart sped up with every step. He was taking her to their chambers. This was their wedding night. What would it be like to share a bed with him? Would he be able to keep his promise to not force her to submit to her wifely duties?

Memories of overhearing her mother and father echoed in her mind like ghosts from the past.
Her pleading that she was tired, his insistence that he had needs and it was her duty to submit to them. Her whimpers of pain. The thumping of the bedposts against the wall.

But surely Gavin had more restraint than that. And sharing a bed with him, lying next to him during their day rest, perhaps that would be nice. She hadn’t had company during those vulnerable hours since Blanche disappeared. Elena had slept in a separate chamber from hers. Oftentimes she grew lonely.

He opened the door to reveal the massive bedchamber that had haunted her memories since she’d first awakened moths ago in his bed to the taste of his healing blood. The slight spicy masculine smell was the same, as was the massive oak bed and its thick crimson coverlet.

Gavin then crossed the room and opened another door. “This will be your bedchamber. Your gowns should already be in the wardrobe.”

Lenore couldn’t help but gape at the elegant, feminine chamber. The bed was a pale maple four poster with powder blue hangings and coverlets. A dainty secretoire sat in one corner, while another corner was dominated by a large vanity with a gilded mirror and dozens of cunning little drawers.

Lanterns stood on carved stands, lighting the windowless room bright as day. It then occurred to her that Gavin’s chamber lacked windows as well.