Immortal With a Kiss (21 page)

“I am at last myself, and it is because of you.”

“This is because of
him
. Of Ruthven.”

Coldness gripped me, and such a panic as to make me cruel. “What if it is? Would you condemn me to enduring his filthy touch, to the memory of it alive on my flesh like a thousand devouring spiders?”

His face froze, sealed in a rigor mortis of horror. I pressed forward, my hands frantic, snaking around his neck. “Valerian, do not leave me alone with this . . . thing inside me.”

He could not hide his reaction. I was using him, and he knew it. What feeling we shared that might have led us to become lovers was not what made my body burn for him. He was right; I was not myself. But I was in pain, and I needed him nonetheless.

He moved suddenly toward me, surprising me, for I had expected him to turn me away. His hands gripped my waist firmly, locking us together as he pushed me back onto the bed. He made to undress me, but I could not tolerate his patience. Our clothing was discarded in a flurry, without gentleness. What feeling he tried to bring to it, I would not abide. In the end, our lovemaking was swift, fed by my desperation and lust. The pleasure of it shattered me, breaking apart the grip of the vampire, restoring me, giving me what I sought.

Afterward, however, as I lay in his arms, I felt hollow.

I’d paid a terrible price for my healing. It became suddenly clear to me in the silence, and the cold distance that seemed to seal us apart, that I had bargained away a most precious thing.

“I am leaving when the week is out,” I told him. “The term is over. I promised Alyssa I would go see her.”

“She has had her child?”

“It will come any day.”

“I will come with you.”

I wished he had not said that. I selfishly wanted him with me, of course, but I was feeling particularly ashamed of myself right now. I’d cheated us both of something I’d had no right to.

“I think Sebastian and Father Luke should stay here,” I said.

“It will be up to them. We are all our own masters.”

How untrue. None of us had the least bit of freedom, or so it felt to me at that moment.

“I suppose.” I rose to dress. Valerian said nothing. I thought perhaps he was angry with me, or perhaps he felt sorry for me. I did not know which was worse.

He took me back to Blackbriar, this time uneventfully. I said good-bye and thanked him, then winced, for it might seem to him that I was thanking him for taking me to his bed. I had not meant that, but it was true I did owe him. What I had taken from him—from both of us—was a debt that might be forever impossible to repay.

Chapter Eighteen

F
ather Luke wanted to go to Rome. He would tell no one what it was he wished to do there. I had great fears on this account, but I could not take the time to question him about it.

The students left the school for the term break, a surprisingly rapid procedure whereupon they piled into the trap in turns, to be taken down into the vale, and on to holiday spots and reunions with their families from there. I had a train out of Penwith to catch, for I was headed to the Peak District, where Alyssa was. Without discussion, it was somehow decided Valerian would travel with me. Sebastian rather reluctantly accompanied a very grouchy Father Luke on his journey, but I could not tell if he was truly put out or merely making a show of it. I suspected the latter.

Father Luke, however, was not pleased with his travel companion. “I will not have you pester me,” the priest had warned as they readied to leave. “I will be about my own business. I will have none of your hovering.”

“Good God, man, I plan to be inebriated the entire time.” Sebastian snapped his gloves into alignment. “I hate traveling, you know. I do not suppose Rome is known for its parties. All those priests.”

I had come to accept their unusual relationship, but even I had to wonder at times how they tolerated the barbs that were so freely flung between them. It seemed, however, they rather enjoyed it.

It was a very different atmosphere with Valerian and me. During our travel, he was dour. I was too shamed by what I’d done to breach the long stretches of silence with anything more than the absolutely most necessary conversation. There was no repeat of our surrender to passion, if that was what it had been. In fact, there was more distance between us than had ever existed before. In those long silences, as we rumbled across lengths of rutted country roads, I often found Valerian looking pensive, a dark frown on his face. And I wished I could do over again that which I’d done wrong.

But fate blessed me with a reprieve when I arrived at Castleton, the estate where I had grown up and where my sister and her husband now resided. Alyssa, having just been delivered of a healthy, beautiful son, was too overjoyed to pout very long at my having neglected her. I saw at once that motherhood had changed her. My sister glowed with pride and happiness, and was in such good spirits that she satisfied herself with only a mild rebuke before presenting the most majestic Roderick Alan for my inspection.

I must confess: it was love at first sight. “He is gorgeous,” I breathed, taken aback by the feeling that came over me as I held the tiny infant. I adored my cousin’s child, Henrietta, but that was an affection that had grown over time, and so my almost violent response to little Roderick took me by surprise. “Absolutely perfect.”

“He is handsome,” she corrected. “He is a boy, Emma. Boys are handsome.”

“He is lovely,” I insisted with a smile, “like his mother.”

She giggled. Alyssa was partial to compliments. “And his father.”

“Indeed,” I agreed. “Alan is quite pretty as well.”

We laughed, and I marveled how we had at last moved beyond the ill will that had followed her accepting Alan’s proposal of marriage. I had been wrong on that account, and had learned a valuable lesson. Though Alan still wouldn’t have been my choice of husband, unpossessed as he was of intelligence or personality, it was true he was devoted to her, and that she was mostly happy with her life as his wife.

He was not in the mood for our usual sniping at one another, however, being of good humor in the aftermath of the birth of so perfect a son. When I saw him later, I felt my gushing over the baby made him forget his dislike of me. And so the visit was surprisingly fine, going along with unanticipated pleasantness. Valerian and I spent little time together, for I was helping with Roderick as much as Alyssa would allow me. We were all of us getting along immensely well—that is, until the subject of my whereabouts for the last several months was at last broached.

“I think it best,” I replied carefully, having rehearsed what I would say, “that you not know too much about why, but I am in Cumbria in a town near Penwith.”

“But what could be so important there?” she demanded.

I paused. It would have been so easy to slip into my old role. When faced with my pouting sister, long habit had taught me that apologies and platitudes were the quickest way to appease her. I did not think I could bring myself to do that now, however. I certainly could not tell her she had no right to question my whereabouts. That would be going too far.

I found a neutral compromise. “Will it help to know I am doing good there?”

Was I?
I wondered suddenly. It did not seem like I had accomplished much. Alyssa watched me carefully. “I still do not understand that business at Dulwich Manor,” she said, a hint of accusation in her tone.

“It was my impression you were comfortable not knowing.”

Her sullenness increased. “It seemed very unpleasant and I thought it best nothing upset me when I was in my condition.”

“A very sound choice,” I concurred.

She sighed. “Oh, Emma, why can you not be the normal sort who stays put and takes up gardening or some such hobby? Why do you have to be so . . . unusual?”

It seemed that for all of my life, someone or other was asking that question of me.

“And that Mr. Fox,” she added disapprovingly. “What is going on with the two of you? Why have you brought him here with you? I hope you are not intending to marry him. He is very unsuitable, to say the least. Does he ever smile?”

I bit my lip. “On occasion. But it takes a great deal of provocation.”

She seemed puzzled, missing my joke. “He is so dark. Much too complicated for my taste.”

I secretly agreed and, further, I feared I would lose control of my emotions if we continued discussing Valerian. Forcing a smile, I said, “That is why Alan is such a perfect husband for you. He is simple.”

She beamed, missing my unintentional insult. “And we’ve made a fine son.”

Later that day, Valerian found me in the library. It was one of the places, besides my sister’s bedside or cooing over Roderick, I was almost always sure to be found.

I had that morning recollected the peculiar habits of the vampires of Greece that I’d been studying at the archive when Sebastian’s letter had arrived, and this had inspired me to do some research in my family’s library. We had an extensive collection of the classical writings from that country’s golden age and I had previously discovered a great deal of information was to be gained in literary references of varying kinds.

I’d been at it all morning. When Valerian entered, I was ecstatic to see him, for I had found something. I’d been poring over a work by Philostratus,
The Life of Apollonius of Tyana
, in which I had found several mentions of vampires.

“These beings fall in love and they are devoted to the delights of Aphrodite . . . and they decoy with such delights those whom they mean to devour in their feasts.”

I saw that Valerian was ill at ease as he settled into a chair near mine, but I was too excited to inquire as to why. “I believe I have found something very relevant to our Cyprian Queen,” I told him anxiously. I reread the lines for him.

He nodded, deep in thought, but he did not take up the topic as I thought he would.

I put the book aside. “What is it?” I asked, seeing I did not have his full attention.

“I have gotten word through my sources that Marius may be in London,” he began, “so I am preparing to leave. If I can pick up his trail again, I—”

“You do not need to explain yourself,” I said.

He drew in a deep breath. “I know you think I am abandoning you.”

“No,” I rushed to assure him. He should not be begging my pardon this time; it was I who had done wrong to him. “Oh, Valerian, I know you have to go. I know why.”

“Do you?” he challenged, suddenly infused with fervent disbelief. “I do not know what you think, Emma, but my motivations are simple.”

“Yes. I know. You must find Marius.”

“Emma, listen to me. You deserve so much more than I can give you right now,” he continued.

I cut him off curtly. “What a ridiculous thing to say, Valerian.”

I could see he was taken aback. I tilted my head, my tone sharpening. “Why do I deserve so much? What makes me so special that I must be denied what I want because it is not as much as I should have? What nonsense, that I must be miserable in payment for being so utterly
deserving
of more than you can give.”

I was not cowed by the storm gathering on his features. I stood, and peered down at him with my temper at full force. “I am so very sick of your obsession. I understand it, I even share it—but I am tired of it defining everything about you, and every moment between us. Your fears are yours, and you are welcome to them; I begrudge you nothing on that account. No one would argue your fate is unimaginably terrible. But what Marius did to you is only part of this lonely existence you have made. It is you yourself who decided you are unworthy of a real human life, with real human emotions. It is you who has banished yourself into isolation, stripped yourself of all else so that you are merely Marius’s half-made minion and nothing more. You became his nemesis, his hunter, but to make that happen you gave all of yourself away. Yes, Marius took what he did, and it was a terrible thing. But it was you who fashioned the rest.”

He studied me for a moment, then lowered his gaze. “Well. I have wanted to know what was in your mind, creating such a distance between us. I thought it was Naimah. Now I see it is more.” He shrugged. “You are justified in what you say. I have made this life. The odd thing was, I was content with it before.” His eyebrows twitched as a spasm of grief gripped him. “Now, it is like a prison.”

I sank back in the chair. “Oh, Valerian, I am sorry. I do understand, it is just . . . Of course you must track Marius if you have a lead. Whenever there is a chance for your freedom, you must never hesitate to take it.”

He was thoughtful, looking gently at me for a moment. “Emma. About what happened at the inn—”

“I would rather not speak of it,” I said quickly.

But he was not of a mind to allow me my pride. “We will make this right,” he vowed darkly.

I shivered. I wished I could believe him, but the gulf seemed insurmountable.

Valerian departed the following morning. Christmas came and went, and for once it was a merry atmosphere, until a letter arrived from Blackbriar on Boxing Day.

My hands trembled as I opened it; I feared it was my notice. It was not quite that, but still it did not bear good news. A meeting would be convened in the midst of January to determine my continued employment.

Suddington was on the board. There was hope yet that I would still retain my position. If not, I would have to think of something else to keep me in the village, at least, if not the school. I could not abandon the girls. As much as I disliked Vanessa, Margaret, and the others, they were but children playing at women’s games, seduced and flattered into sin. Their callous and scandalous behavior was reprehensible, but they should not have to die for it.

It was Eustacia who was most in my thoughts. I fervently vowed to myself that I would allow nothing to happen to her. But how to protect her? I had to be clever, for I could not risk confiding in her. I could be exposed, banished, thought of in the same disgusted whispers as poor Victoria Markam.

One day not long after the letter from Sloane-Smith arrived, I was on my way into my sister’s bedroom in the master suite. I came and went so frequently, as Alyssa kept the baby with her there, that I did not bother to knock. As I was about to enter, the mention of my name stopped me in my tracks.

“If your mother wanted Emma to have them, she would have given them to her.” That was Alan. “What good will it do now?”

“My mother was not always fair when it came to Emma,” Alyssa said. The petulance in her voice told me they were having a disagreement. “Or Laura.”

I flattened myself against the wall as quietly as I could manage, and strained my ears.

“She was mad. Everyone knew it.” Alan was dismissive, bored. “Why would you wish to hurt your sister by exposing her to that? Why have you suddenly grown concerned over those old letters? Really, Alyssa, just because she’s fawned over Roderick a bit does not make up for how scandalously she neglected you all these months. I only hope she now sees the error of her past and makes amends to you.”

“You sound like Mother used to sound,” Alyssa said.

“I believe your mother and I would have been in perfect harmony in our opinions about Emma.”

I realized that was exactly true, and probably the entirety of my dislike of the man. He and Judith would have adored each other.

“I still think she should have them, Alan. They are hers. I am feeling much differently about Emma since I’ve grown up. I am a mother now. It has made me see things differently. I do not understand Emma, I never will, but I do know she is not what Mother made her out to be.”

“I am not so certain about that. Her mother was mad, and her sanity is questionable. Why, recall that ugly business in Avebury—”