
Table of Contents
PRAISE FOR THE TUDOR VAMPIRE CHRONICLES
Blood of the Rose
"More rich historical details . . . making it exceptional. There's something fun about rewriting history and making memorable characters like Anne Boleyn into vampires. Pearce expertly weaves her historical background and knowledge into a truly captivating tale."
---Romantic Times
"Passionate and fresh with a unique twist on European history and creatively new vampire lore. A not-to-be-missed read."
---Fresh Fiction
"An engaging . . . historical thriller."
---Midwest Book Review
Kiss of the Rose
"Kate Pearce gives historical romance some serious fangs with Kiss of the Rose. Better plan on losing some sleep, because this is a guaranteed all-nighter!"
---Jessica Andersen, author of the Nightkeepers Novels
"A book you can really sink your teeth into! It has everything: adventure, romance, history, and Druids and vampires too!"
---Brandy Purdy, author of The Boleyn Wife
"Wonderfully dark and intriguing . . . a fascinating, sensual world filled with adventure!"
---Colleen Gleason, author of the Gardella Vampire Chronicles
"Original and outstanding, Kiss of the Rose is a brandnew take on vampires.... I am really looking forward to Kate Pearce's next installment of this highly provocative series. Her ability to tell an awesome story with sensual and sinfully delicious love scenes is just one of the many reasons why I can't read enough from this amazing author! Five ribbons."
---Romance Junkies
"Refreshingly imaginative and deliciously sensual... Kiss of the Rose is an exhilarating tale that will make you want to invest your time, your undivided attention, and maybe even a bit of your heart. This novel will seduce you with all its sensuality, passion, intrigue, danger, and magic. Nine out of ten stars!"
---The Season for Romance
"Pearce brings otherworldly passion, danger, and intrigue to life in her sensational new series . . . a wonderful, unique story penned by an amazingly talented author."
---Joyfully Reviewed
"A unique and thrilling series that will delight fans of vampire fiction and historical romance enthusiasts as well.... Combining history, the paranormal, and a whole lot of sensual excitement, author Kate Pearce deftly delivers . . . a distinctive tale that fans of both genres are sure to scoop up and enjoy."
---Sharon's Garden of Book Reviews
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF KATE PEARCE
"What an amazingly rich and engrossing story! I was hooked from the very beginning and absolutely did not stop reading until the very end. I hope to read more by this very talented author in the future."
---The Romance Studio
"Intelligent characters, complex emotions, and a plot that engaged my emotions to a rare high. Very highly recommended."
---TwoLips Reviews
"Can you say hot? . . . From the first scorching page to the last, Kate Pearce takes you on a wild ride of sex and suspense, keeping you guessing until the very end."
---Simply Romance Reviews
"This book has something for everyone: hot sex scenes, a sexy hero with a tragic past, a smart and compassionate heroine, intrigue, danger, and Regency London at its most decadent!"
---Romantic Times
"Guaranteed to quicken the pulse."
---Joyfully Reviewed
"One of the most arousing and enigmatic historical novels I have read this year."
---Romance Junkies
"Hot and steamy . . . with vividly imagined scenes."
---Ecataromance
ALSO BY KATE PEARCE
Kiss of the Rose
Blood of the Rose
SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,New York, New York 10014, USAPenguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, EnglandPenguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2,Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124,Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park,New Delhi - 110 017, IndiaPenguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632,New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue,Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, September
Copyright © Kate Pearce, 2011
Excerpt from The Kiss of the Rose copyright © Kate Pearce, 2010
All rights reserved
SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
ISBN : 978-1-101-54391-7
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This book is for my husband, Dermot. Twenty-five years
of wedded bliss deserves a romance novel dedication,don't you think? DD4CH 4Ever.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Tracy Bernstein for her excellent editing. I've learned a lot over the past year and I've enjoyed the experience immensely. Thanks to my agent, Deidre Knight and everyone at the Knight Agency for all their hard work on my behalf. Dayna Hart critiqued this book for me and did a fantastic job as usual.
I'd also like to thank members of the Oohshiny group for keeping me sane and my family for embracing the joys of the Crock-Pot and letting me get on with my writing.
If you'd like to learn more about the Tudor Vampire series, please visit my Web site at Thetudorvampire-chronicles. com, where I have a lot of information about the places and people of Tudor England. While I have made every effort to be historically accurate, this is a work of fiction and all mistakes are definitely my own.
Richmond Palace, the Court of King Henry VIII, 1537
"Where is Jasper?" The golden-haired Vampire frowned and looked around the deserted bedchamber as he spoke.
"Why do you want to know, Vampire?"
Verity Llewellyn kept her dagger aimed at the man's throat as she slowly backed away. Her heart was beating wildly against her embroidered bodice, but she was proud of herself for not screeching like a barn owl. The man had appeared behind her as she rifled through the contents of Jasper's desk and almost startled her to death. She supposed she should be glad that he didn't seem inclined to suck her blood, as she had completely failed to protect herself.
"I merely wished to speak to him, my lady." The Vampire inclined his head. "Perhaps another time."
"If this is Llewellyn business, you can speak to me," Verity said far more bravely than she felt.
"Ah, of course. You must be Jasper's sister, Lady Verity." He swept off his cap and bowed low. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. My name is Elias Warner. Perhaps Jasper has spoken of me?"
Verity studied the Vampire's smooth face and captivating silver-gold eyes. He wore a green doublet and matching trunk and hose with colorful embroidery. A thick gold chain studded with emeralds hung around his neck. He appeared to be about thirty years of age, but she knew he might be much older. His lack of fear and faint amusement at her distrust made her feel vulnerable.
"Why would Jasper speak of you to me?"
Elias Warner considered her. "Because I am the representative of the Vampire Council at court and on occasion have had to dabble in Druid affairs." His mouth curled with distaste. "Sometimes that is necessary in order to avoid disaster." His gaze swept past her and focused on the ransacked desk. "Are you expecting Jasper back today?"
"I am not." Immediately, Verity wanted to take the betraying words back and felt her cheeks heating. She wondered if the Vampire would be bold enough to ask her what she had been looking for among her brother's private papers.
"Then I will leave you in peace."
"Thank you."
His smile was warmer this time. "Thank you for not trying to stab me."
Verity glanced at the dagger she held in her fist and suddenly felt foolish. In her desire to hear what the enigmatic stranger had to say, she'd forgotten about her duty to slay Vampires. She lowered her arm. "You didn't try to kill me either."
"I have learned to respect the Llewellyn family's fighting skills . . . and I might need your help in the future."
"My help?"
Elias's smile faded. "Indeed. Have you not noticed that Queen Jane is dying?"
With that, the Vampire dissolved and disappeared right in front of her. Verity let out a breath and leaned back against the desk. Her knees were shaking so badly she could hardly stand. In the two weeks since she'd arrived, she had wondered about the queen's health, but Jasper did not seem to understand or appreciate her fears. In truth, her brother had made her feel quite stupid for suggesting there was anything wrong with the queen at all.
But that was hardly surprising, was it? Verity's mouth twisted. She'd never been considered of much worth by her family. She'd failed in the only task they deemed acceptable for a woman---making a successful marriage and producing children. And now she had nothing but a heart full of regrets and a determination never to allow herself to be so stupid again.
With that in mind, she fought to steady her breathing and resumed her search of Jasper's desk. She knew he kept a journal and she needed all the help she could get if she was to protect the king and queen. How strange that it had taken a visit from a Vampire to make her see how imperative it was for her to act.
She had written to her cousin Rosalind for advice as to what she should do. There was no guarantee her letter would be answered, as Verity had no address for Rosalind and had sent it via their mutual friend Rhys Williams. Rosalind had horrified the Druid community by marrying Christopher Ellis, a member of an ancient Druid-killing family, and their grandfather, John Llewellyn, had decreed that Rosalind was dead to them.
Verity shut one of the desk drawers with a bang. It was also possible that Rosalind's husband wouldn't allow his wife to get involved in Druid affairs. Husbands could be very controlling; Verity knew that all too well. She opened the final drawer and studied the two big leather-bound journals that she saw there. One was a book of devotions to the saints and the other apparently a ledger for household accounts.
With some effort, Verity took both books out of the drawer and opened up the first. She smiled as she revealed the hidden compartment carved out of the pages. In his choice of hiding places, her brother was as predictable as ever. She removed the small black journal and opened it to the first page. She even recognized the code he'd used. Every encounter Jasper had with the Vampires in the last year had been recorded in meticulous detail.
Verity tucked the journal into her hanging pocket and tidied up the desk. At least this would help her understand her enemies better, and perhaps allow her to save the troubled queen.
Avebury Manor, England
"Rhys! Where are you?"
Rhys Williams stirred and half opened his eyes. Bemused, he stared up at the leafy fronds of the willow tree above his head and blinked at the brightness of the sun slanting through the green darkness. His tangled dreams of a black-haired Vampire faded as he registered the impatient tone of his best friend and fellow Vampire slayer, Rosalind Llewellyn.
No, not Llewellyn anymore---but Ellis. Even after all these years, her married name still sat uneasily on his tongue.
"Rhys!"
He sat up, knowing that if he didn't attend to her she'd come and find him, and in her current condition that might be unwise. Her husband, Christopher, would not thank Rhys for exposing his precious wife to the blistering summer heat. Rhys left the blanket on the ground, pushed aside the heavy curtain of hanging branches, and headed back toward the tall, elegant manor house where Rosalind awaited him.
Despite his best efforts, his heart still beat harder when he saw her. Seven years had passed since she'd married the Druid slayer, and yet she seemed content to bear Christopher's children and love him despite being disowned by her family. Rhys envied her ability to love, and still occasionally wished he had succeeded in gaining her loyalty for himself.
Rosalind shaded her eyes and smiled up at him. "Were you asleep?"
"Aye."
She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and walked with him toward the kitchens. "Is your arm still giving you pain?"
"None at all. Because of your excellent care, I am more than ready to leave and go back to my duties."
Rosalind shivered. "Promise me you'll be more careful, Rhys. When you first arrived here, I thought you were going to lose that arm."
He patted her hand. "I'll be careful. It's not every day a man walks into a Vampire ambush."
She sighed. "I fear you are taking too many risks."
His faint smile died. "You don't need to worry about me, Rosalind. I'm more than capable of dealing with a few Vampires."
"So I've heard. Your reputation as a slayer these days far exceeds my own."
He held open the door that led into the back wing of the house. "Unlike you, I have nothing else to do with my time."
Rosalind looked up at him, her expression concerned. "You could come and visit us more often."
"Cariad"---the endearment slipped out before he could stop it---"I'm not supposed to visit you at all. Your grandfather has expressly forbidden it. I come when I can and I am very grateful for the care you have given me."
Rosalind bit her lip and turned away from him. "I wish I could fight with you again. I'd keep you safe."
Rhys opened the door into the large, homey kitchen and waited for Rosalind to walk past him. The smell of baking bread made his mouth water. "I don't think Christopher would let you fight with me."
"I surely would not." A dark-haired man with startling blue eyes looked up from his perusal of the documents spread out on the table. His narrowed gaze passed over Rhys and came to rest on Rosalind. "You are carrying our child, my love."
Rosalind sniffed and went to sit beside her husband. Rhys followed more slowly and took the bench seat on the opposite side of the oak table. His attention was caught by the king's royal seal.
"What have we here?"
Christopher grinned at him. "We have finally been rewarded by King Henry for our part in the downfall of Anne Boleyn." Christopher pushed a parchment adorned with numerous seals and signatures over to Rhys. "You will enjoy this." He pretended to preen. "I have been made an earl."
"Congratulations, my lord." Rhys couldn't help liking Christopher despite himself. Not only was the man a worthy opponent on the battlefield, but he had a good heart and all the skills of a diplomat, when he chose to use them.
Christopher handed him another document. "And you, my friend, have been created a baronet."
"A what?" Rhys grabbed the thick parchment and began to struggle his way through the complex Latin phrases. Christopher pointed at a section halfway down the page and Rhys read his own name. He looked up at Christopher. "What exactly does that mean?"
"It means that you are now Sir Rhys Williams, and you have a title to pass down to your children."
Rhys grimaced. "An English title."
"An English title bestowed upon you by a Welsh king. I do not believe it would be wise to refuse such an honor," Christopher said gently.
Rhys stared at his elaborately inscribed name. "It doesn't sit well with me. My country has been destroyed by the English monarchy. What will they think of me at home if I come back with a title?"
"If they have any sense, they will see it as the advance in your family's status that it undoubtedly is, and welcome your elevation."
"Luckily, I have very little family, so I suppose I have no choice but to accept this honor and make the best of it." Rhys sat back and contemplated his hosts. "Was that why you called me, Rosalind?"
She frowned at him. "That isn't enough for you?" She shared a quick glance with Christopher. "Unfortunately, the other news isn't so good. We've had a letter from court."
While Anne Boleyn was alive, Rhys had visited the court infrequently, knowing Anne would exact vengeance on all those she believed had tricked her into giving up her quest to turn the king into a Vampire.
"From Elias?"
"No, although he is still there, looking out for the interests of the Vampire Council."
"So who wrote to you?"
Rosalind handed him a letter. "This came addressed to you with my name underneath. Apparently Jasper has been wounded and has returned to Pembrokeshire."
"Then who, in God's name, is guarding the king?"
"His sister, Verity. She wrote to explain what had happened to Jasper and to ask for my help."
"Little Verity Llewellyn?" Rhys shook his head. "What does she know about fighting Vampires? The last I heard of her she was getting married."
"She was widowed, and she has come to court to serve the king and queen in any capacity necessary. She felt it was her duty. Verity is concerned that there is some dastardly plot afoot to destroy Queen Jane."
"The queen is carrying the king's child, isn't she?"
Rosalind's hand went to her own rounded belly. "She is. Verity insists that all is not well with her, and she fears Queen Jane will not live long enough to deliver her child."
An uneasy feeling stirred in Rhys's gut. "What does Verity want us to do?"
"She asks us to return to court and help her discover what ails the queen."
Christopher stirred and put his hand over Rosalind's. "Rosalind and I can't leave the protection of the manor house and the stone circle. We have to think of Nicholas and the new babe that is coming."
"I understand why Rosalind cannot go, but why must you stay?" Rhys asked.
"Because of Nicholas." Christopher held Rhys's gaze. "He needs to be protected at all times, Rhys; you know that. And while Rosalind is breeding, I am the only person who can take on that responsibility."
Rhys let out a frustrated breath. Rosalind and Christopher's six-year-old son was a delightfully normal child---apart from his abilities to sense the undead and communicate his thoughts directly to his parents. Despite his parents' attempts to conceal Nicholas's interesting powers, both the Druids and the Vampires were aware of him, and that was not good. Only the protection of the stone circle that surrounded the village and the manor house kept the Vampires at bay. Leaving Nicholas without the protection of at least one strong slayer could be disastrous.
Rhys straightened his spine. "So you think I should go and represent us all."
"I don't see what else we can do," Christopher said, his frustrated expression mirroring Rhys's. "You must know I would go with you if I could."
Rhys turned to Rosalind. "But I'm not a Llewellyn. I have no special access to the king or the queen."
"But Verity has."
Rhys tossed the letter onto the table. "Verity should've stayed home, minding her own business. How does she think she can help? She has no training, and no ability to fight."
He pictured Verity in his mind, her sweet face, her long blond hair and shy smile. They'd shared a childhood in the rambling Welsh manor house of Sir John Llewellyn, along with Rosalind and her siblings. The thought of Verity running into even the most inept of Vampires made his blood run cold. He smoothed the crumpled pages of the letter with his fingers and sighed.
"It seems as if I have no choice. Someone has to stop Verity Llewellyn from doing something foolish."
Rosalind gave him a relieved smile. "I'm so glad you've decided to go. Verity will definitely appreciate your help."
Rhys shoved a hand through his damp auburn hair and groaned. "My worry is that I'll be so busy acting as her nursemaid that I'll have no time to deal with this problem with the queen."
Christopher gathered up the documents, separated them into two piles, and handed one to Rhys. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Sir Rhys. With your new status you will be able to mingle more freely with the gentlemen of the court, and Verity is already established as one of the queen's ladies."
"And there is Elias Warner, of course." Rhys stood. "He has been known to be helpful on occasion."
"And very unhelpful on others," Christopher added.
Rhys studied Verity's neat handwriting. She'd written in Welsh, which was as good as code, as most Englishmen couldn't understand it. He tried to remember how long it was since he had seen her, how long since he'd returned to the only home he'd ever known.
"How old is Verity now?"
Rosalind looked up at him. "She is of a similar age to me, about five and twenty."
"And she hasn't married again?"
"Not all women wish to be married, Rhys. Mayhap she loved her first husband so desperately she has sworn never to have another."
"And maybe she is just contrary, like most of the Llewellyn women," Christopher murmured and grunted as his wife elbowed him in the ribs. "I'm certain she will be glad to see you, Rhys, and more than willing to learn anything you can teach her. I assume she wishes to remain at court only until Jasper is recovered."
Rhys nodded and took his leave, the papers Christopher had given him tucked under his arm. He would study them further in his bedchamber. He went up the worn staircase to his rooms deep in thought. The notion of Verity being alone at court surrounded by such evil disturbed him.
He surveyed his meager possessions and packed them into his saddlebags. In his career as a Vampire slayer he'd learned not to become attached to possessions or to people. Apart from Rosalind---and where had that led him? He thrust that thought away and flexed his left arm. His wound had healed well and it was time for him to leave. Rosalind and Christopher's happiness was hard for him to live with for long periods of time, although he would miss his godson, Nicholas.
Rhys started cleaning his weapons and stowing them in his pack. If he was lucky, he might be able to persuade Verity to go home straightaway and then deal quickly with the situation himself. He smiled as he gathered up his daggers to take down to the smithy for sharpening. Knowing how sweet and malleable Verity was, he didn't anticipate much of a problem.
Rhys tugged irritably at the stiff linen shirt Rosalind had insisted on making him to go with his new doublet and hose. Despite his birth, he was far more accustomed to playing the servant than the master, and he felt decidedly out of place. It was already hot in the packed outer court of the king's audience chamber, where he and all the other petitioners gathered, hoping to be seen by their monarch. Christopher had instructed him to present his new papers to the king's official and wait to be escorted into the royal presence.
Two of the king's Welsh yeomanry in their red and white livery guarded the entrance into the presence chamber. Rhys wondered how they felt serving an English king, but he doubted they would be interested in conversing with him while on duty.
"Sir Rhys Williams?"
"Aye." He looked up at the man dressed in black who called out his name, and with some difficulty pushed his way through the crowded room.
"The king will see you now."
Rhys managed a grateful smile and followed the court official past the guards and into the relative quiet of the king's presence chamber. Of course, the king was never alone, being constantly attended to by the gentlemen of his bedchamber and members of his privy council, but at least Rhys could breathe more freely.
"Ah, Sir Rhys. It is a pleasure to welcome you back to court."
"Your Majesty does me great honor." Rhys stepped forward and knelt at the king's feet. Rubies glinted on the king's leather shoes.
"You may rise, Sir Rhys."
Rhys stood and fixed his gaze on the king's massive chest. It was only the second time he'd been this close to King Henry and he could feel the power and authority that radiated from him. In truth, the king seemed fairly relaxed and jovial, but that might be because his current queen was pregnant and he was anticipating the birth of his heir.
"I have received a letter from Lord Christopher Ellis recommending you to my service, Sir Rhys."
"I would be honored to serve you in whatever capacity you require, Your Majesty." Rhys hated the compliance in his voice, but what else could he do? In order to save the king from the Vampire threat, he needed to be as close to him as the Vampires were.
"I will consult with my chamberlain and he will find you a suitable position."
"Thank you, sire." Rhys bowed low again and backed away as the next petitioner was announced. He had no wish to share Verity's concerns with the king until he had spoken both to Elias and to Verity herself. There might be nothing amiss at all.
One of the king's gentlemen touched his shoulder when he reached the door. "Sir Rhys, you may lodge in the East Tower with the other single gentlemen. Send your servant with your bags to Master Hugh Fraser and he will assist you."
"Thank you." Rhys found himself smiling as he walked away. He hadn't brought a servant with him, only his horse, Artio, so he supposed he would be unloading and taking his own bags to Master Fraser. He paused and beckoned to one of the page boys who was passing through the hall.
"Where are the queen and her ladies, boy?"
"They are in the pleasure gardens, sir."
Rhys was already familiar with the layout of the palace, so he had no difficulty finding his way to the gardens. His thoughts turned to the last time he had been at court, and to the beautiful Olivia Del Alonso, Christopher's half sister. He never spoke of her with Christopher but often wondered what had become of her. Was she still at court and would she remember him? He wasn't sure if he wanted to see her or not. She'd seemed so young for a Vampire and so . . . unspoiled. Seven years might have changed her into a hardened killer who would be happy to suck him dry. One never knew with Vampires.
He shaded his eyes against the bright sunlight and searched until he found a cluster of well-dressed ladies sitting in the shade of some oak trees.
Queen Jane was easy enough to spot. She sat in the center of her ladies and wore a gray silk gown stitched with pearls that matched those on her gable headdress. Rhys had no memory of meeting Jane Seymour before she had married the king, but even he could see that she looked pale and tired.
He approached the group and waited until one of the ladies drew the queen's attention in his direction. When she gestured for him to approach, he moved closer and went down on one knee.
"I apologize for disturbing you, Your Majesty. I am Sir Rhys Williams. I wished to make myself known to you, and to a distant cousin of mine whom I believe is amongst your ladies."
The queen's smile was small but polite. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Rhys. Which one of my ladies do you believe you are related to?"
Rhys smiled back. "I wish it were all of them, Your Majesty, but I seek Lady Verity Llewellyn."
"Lucky old Verity," someone whispered as Rhys tried not to react to the wave of feminine interest surrounding him.
"I am here, your grace."
Rhys looked up as a woman stepped out from the shadows and came toward him. Her long blond hair was contained by a French hood and her wary blue gaze was fixed squarely on his face. She was taller than Rosalind and her figure was more rounded, but she had the same remarkable grace.
Queen Jane waved Rhys to his feet. "Mayhap you would wish to speak to your cousin in private, Sir Rhys. You may walk with her in the gardens, but make sure you bring her back before we go inside."
Rhys bowed low. "Thank you, Your Majesty." He offered his arm to Verity. "My lady?"
Anticipation shuddered through Verity as she rested her fingers on the silk sleeve of Rhys's brown doublet. He led her back toward the main path that ran around the edge of the garden. She'd almost not recognized him. In the ten years since they'd last met, his skinny frame had filled out and he seemed at ease with both his height and his body. There was an air of command about him now and an edge of hardness to his mouth.
His doublet was modestly adorned with black embroidery and cut to flatter his broad shoulders. Unlike some of the gentlemen at court he needed no padding to exaggerate the curve of his calves or plump out his chest. A workmanlike sword rode on his hip and she guessed that like most Vampire slayers, he had a silver-tipped dagger or two concealed about his person as well.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, my lady."
His soft Welsh accent warmed her. He reminded her of home and safety, and all that she had lost. It made her want to fling herself into his arms and beg for his help. But it would not be wise to allow him to think she was weak. She still had no idea why he was here, or what he wanted from her.
"It is a pleasure to see you again too---it is Sir Rhys now?"
"I have lately been made a baronet."
Verity clasped her hands. "How exciting. When did you return to court?"
"I returned this morning." He hesitated and looked down at her, his hazel eyes careful. "I am here on a matter of great importance to us both."
An imp of mischief made Verity choose to misunderstand him. She attempted a laugh and flattened her hand over her jeweled bodice. "I hope you are not an emissary from my grandfather. I have told him a thousand times that I have no wish to entertain any more suitors."
"I have not come from your grandsire. I---I would never even have thought of us . . ." Rhys's stunned expression and stuttering denial made Verity want to kick him. Instead she opened her eyes wide and tried to look innocent.
"Oh . . . of course you have not. I do beg your pardon." She squeezed his arm, felt the muscles tense beneath the fine fabric. "Why would you ever think of me in those terms? You had eyes only for my cousin Rosalind."
A flush darkened Rhys's pale skin and he looked away from her. "Your cousin Rosalind is very happily married to another man."
"Happily? She married an Ellis. How could she ever be happy?"
Rhys's mouth quirked up at the corner. "Trust me, she is."
"You have seen her since her marriage?"
He paused and then glanced around to check that they were alone. Shade from the elm trees that grew along the side of the path put his face into half shadow. "That is why I am here. Rosalind asked me to come and assist you."
"She received my letter?" At his nod she continued. "Why couldn't she come herself? Did her husband forbid her?"
Rhys chuckled. "He most certainly did."
"And you allowed him to treat her like that?"
"He is her husband and on this occasion I am in complete agreement with him. Rosalind is an extremely bloodthirsty woman, but even she wouldn't consider herself capable of fighting Vampires in the seventh month of her pregnancy."
"Oh." Verity stared at him. "I can see that might be a hindrance."
Rhys nodded, his expression sympathetic. "Which is why she sent me. I understand your brother, Jasper, has been injured and that you have gallantly offered to take his place guarding the king and queen. You need no longer worry about that."
Something about the way he spoke to her---kind but dismissive---made her feel small and unnecessary. She raised her chin so that she could look into his eyes and found her attention wandering to the dark auburn of his hair and the way the sunlight brought out the copper and crimson in it.
"There is always supposed to be a member of the Llewellyn family guarding the king and queen. It is our duty."
"I know that." He hesitated. "But some of the Llewellyn family have trained their whole lives to protect the monarchy."
"And some of them have not." She paused. "Like me, you mean."
"I'm sure your intentions are good, Verity, but in all conscience, I can hardly allow you to risk your life in the service of the Tudors when you have no real notion of what you are doing." He patted her cheek. "It is not a simple task. I trained with Rosalind for years before she became such an accomplished Vampire slayer."
Anger gathered like a fist in Verity's chest. As a child she'd idolized Rhys, had built silly fantasies around how he would marry her one day and they would live happily ever after. Even when he was smitten with Rosalind she'd reckoned that given the chance she could change his mind. If only she'd really known what an arrogant, patronizing man he would turn out to be, she could have saved herself hours of useless daydreaming.
"I do not believe you have the right to tell me what to do, Sir Rhys."
His brows drew together. "I beg your pardon?" There was ice in the softness of his accent now, but she didn't care.
"I am a Llewellyn; you are not. As a Druid, your duty is to me and my family."
"And I am offering to do my duty."
"And dismissing my help."
All traces of amiability disappeared from his face and she could see the hard strength and purpose beneath the charm. When had he become such an inflexible man? What had changed him?
"My lady, I do not need your help."
"Are you quite sure about that? As a Llewellyn, I have access to the king and the queen that you will never have. You need me more than you realize, Sir Rhys." She glared at him. "In fact, perhaps you are the one who is superfluous here and should leave."
Before he could reply, Verity deliberately looked past him toward the queen's party and bobbed a curtsy. "I have to go in now; the queen is retiring. It was a pleasure to see you again, Cousin, and I wish you Godspeed on your journey home."
She whisked past him and headed for the safety of the queen's ladies. Indignation filled her thoughts. How dare he presume that she was useless? He hadn't seen her for ten years and his immediate assumption was that because she was female she would only hinder his cause? Had he ever thought that about Rosalind? Somehow she doubted it. Verity wanted to smack his patronizing face but contented herself with walking away from him as if he had never existed.
Rhys remained rooted to the spot and watched Verity chatter to her companions as they entered the palace. In the sunlight her hair held every color from white to brown gilded with gold like a ripening field of wheat. He wanted to go after her and demand that she listen to him, but he suspected her answer would be the same.
He cursed under his breath and headed back to the stables, where he had left his horse and his bags. Unfortunately, some of what Verity had said was true. He did need her cooperation if he truly wanted to solve this mystery of what was wrong with the queen.
It never paid to underestimate a woman, especially a Llewellyn, but he feared he had already fallen into that trap. Christopher would be amused, but Rhys should've known better. Now he would have to exert himself to charm his way back into her good graces.
He threw a coin to the stableboy who had been watching his possessions and picked up his bags. Not that charming Verity Llewellyn would be a hardship. She was as beautiful as he remembered---and he'd always enjoyed a challenge.
Verity shifted uncomfortably on her knees as the queen's chaplain continued his nightly prayers. The king's elder daughter, Lady Mary, who was a close companion to the queen, had already retreated to her chamber to hear her more Catholic prayers. By all accounts, compared to her predecessor, Jane Seymour ran her household in a very godly and pious manner. Too pious, if Verity had anything to say about it. As the queen's pregnancy progressed, so did the length of the prayers and entreaties.
Verity risked a glance over her clasped hands at the queen, who looked far too pale for Verity's liking. Her gaze was fixed on her chaplain, yet she didn't seem to be hearing the prayers at all. As Verity watched, Jane briefly closed her eyes and swayed slightly. Verity, who was closest to her, reached out to grasp the queen's arm before she toppled forward.
"Your Majesty, are you well?"
The chaplain stopped speaking as Verity held the queen firmly by the shoulders. Other hands reached to aid her.
"Leave her to me!" Lady Jane Rochford shoved Verity to one side and took control of the queen's drooping body.
Verity didn't like Lady Rochford and often wondered how the widow of Anne Boleyn's notorious brother, George, had managed to find herself a position at court again. Surely the king wouldn't want the wife of a man he had condemned to death to be near his new queen? But then it was rumored that it had been Lady Rochford's evidence that had sent her husband to the block, so mayhap this was her reward, a second chance to serve her monarch.
"Pull down the covers, girl." Lady Rochford motioned impatiently at Verity. "Don't stand there gawping."
Biting back a reply purely for the queen's sake, Verity drew back the heavy quilt embroidered with the queen's arms and her chosen motto: BOUND TO OBEY AND SERVE. A motto Verity would never have chosen in a thousand years.
Lady Rochford dabbed at the queen's pallid forehead. "There you are, your grace. Take your ease and rest yourself."
Verity caught the herbal scent of the laundered sheets and something far more worrying---the distinctive dry smell of the undead. She inhaled through her nose and tried to identify where the scent was coming from. It wasn't a female Vampire but a male, having the tang of a living animal rather than that of a plant. She glanced at the queen and at Lady Rochford, but they both seemed unaware of the danger. Was it possible that one of them was an old Vampire who was capable of concealing her true nature and scent?
"What are you standing there for? Go and fetch the queen some warmed wine." Verity jumped as Lady Rochford turned to glare at her.
She retreated from the bed and relayed the order to one of the other ladies. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she walked around the queen's bedchamber sniffing delicately at the air. She hadn't been this close to the queen before, or in such an enclosed space. To her dismay there was more than one scent she could identify as Vampire.
The queen lay back on her pillows, her expression distant as Lady Rochford continued to whisper to her. One of the other ladies touched Verity's shoulder and nodded toward the door. Verity was quite glad to leave. Knowing that Vampires had been so close to the queen's person seemed to bear out Elias Warner's fears about the queen. But why would he care? He was a Vampire. Verity wrinkled her nose. None of this made sense.
She let out her breath and stared at the now closed door. There was no way around it. She needed help and it seemed that Rhys Williams would have a part to play whether she liked it or not. Verity paused to consider where Rhys might be and reckoned he would most likely be eating in the great hall with the king and all his other courtiers.
She straightened her back. Much as it pained her, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. She would have to make her peace with Rhys and ask for his help. She knew that the life of the queen was far more important than swallowing her pride.
Rhys had taken a seat in the middle of the banqueting hall so that he could watch who came and went through the main doors. The queen wasn't present, which meant that most of the queen's ladies weren't there either. It also meant that the atmosphere in the hall was rowdier than usual. The queen's two brothers, Edward and Thomas Seymour, sat on either side of the king. Their family star was in the ascendant and their ambition glaringly obvious even to Rhys.
But the Seymour family had much to be joyous about. Jane had ensnared the king and was carrying his child. If that child was a boy, the king's elation would spill over and even the lowliest member of the extensive Seymour clan would find himself on the rise. But if it wasn't . . . Rhys speared a mouthful of pigeon on the end of his dagger from the trencher he shared with his neighbor and chewed slowly before washing it down with the watery ale.
Despite the heat, fires had been lit in the vast fireplaces and he was sweating like a pig in the fine black velvet doublet Christopher had lent him. Rhys touched the leather pouch secured at his waist. He had plenty of coin; perhaps it was time he had some new clothes made for himself that weren't quite so stifling.
Rhys cleaned off his dagger on the rough bread and finished his ale. He stiffened when he saw the unmistakable figure of Verity Llewellyn appear in the doorway. She wore a green gown with matching sleeves and a silver bodice that plumped her breasts up almost to her chin. Even as he appreciated the sight, Rhys realized that other men were starting to notice Verity too. He bade his eating companions a civil good-night and made his way around the edge of the hall toward Verity.
By the time he got there, she was surrounded by some of the younger court gallants and backed up against the wall. To his surprise she didn't look frightened by all the attention. Her expression remained calm and pleasant as she responded to whatever slurred gallantries fell from drunken lips.
Rhys caught her eye over the heads of the fools. He deliberately widened his stance and placed his hand over the hilt of his sword. "Cousin, were you looking for me? May I escort you outside?"
Verity walked toward him and the men fell away from her, grumbling among themselves. "Thank you, Cousin. That would be delightful."
The tallest of the men turned to Rhys and then seemed to think better of arguing. Rhys held the man's gaze until he had Verity safely on his arm before he turned and walked away with her. He breathed deeply as they entered the queen's rose garden and shook off the oppressive heat of the packed great hall.
"I was seeking you, in fact," Verity murmured.
"I'm glad to hear it. That was not the safest place for you to be wandering around."
She stopped walking. "Do you think I am the kind of woman who likes to flaunt herself in front of a hall full of drunken men?"
He glanced down at her indignant face, aware that somehow he'd erred again. "I didn't say that."
"But you thought it, because poor little Verity can't keep away from men, can she?"
"I didn't think that at all." He studied her carefully. "Why would anyone imagine that of you?"
"Are you pretending that you haven't heard my sad story?"
"I haven't seen you for ten years, my lady. When I left, you seemed quite well."
She made a huffing sound and started walking again. Rhys caught her elbow and made her stop. "After rousing my curiosity, aren't you going to explain yourself?"
"When I now feel ridiculous for assuming you would know or care to know anything about me?"
Rhys felt as if he were creeping through marshland blindfolded and liable to sink at any moment. "Do as you wish, my lady."
Her blue eyes held such a mixture of pain and exasperation that he couldn't look away. She bit down on her full lower lip and the sight made him all too aware of her, the honey scent emanating from her skin, her hair streaming down her back. He wanted to plunge his hands into that glorious hair and gather her close.
She frowned up at him. "Why are you staring at me?"
"Because you are beautiful."
"You sound surprised."
He ran his fingers lightly along the line of her jaw. "I always thought you were pretty, but you have blossomed into a true beauty."
She jerked her head away from his touch and he felt suddenly foolish. What was it about her that made him utter such nonsense? Was it because she reminded him of home and of the self he'd lost along the way? He lowered his hand and tried to recollect what he had wanted to say to her. "Why did you seek me out?"
"I . . ." Her fingers brushed her chin where his hand had just been, as if she missed his touch. "I am concerned about the queen. I wanted to speak to you about her."
He noticed a bench beneath an arbor of climbing roses and guided her toward it. He waited until she sat and smoothed out her skirts and then sat beside her. "What happened?"
"I was helping put the queen to bed when I distinctly smelled Vampire."
Rhys stilled. "You can smell them?"
"Of course." She gave him a puzzled look. "The males smell like animals and the females like plants. This Vampire smelled like a male, but there were no males present apart from the queen's chaplain and I'm quite sure it couldn't be him."
Rhys continued to study her earnest face. "Can all Druid women smell Vampires?"
She looked away from him for a moment. "I think so."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, I can." She raised her chin at him. "Can Rosalind?"
"Aye, but I thought it was because she was a trained slayer and bore the mark of Awen. Mayhap it is because you are both Llewellyns."
Verity nodded. "That might be true. Our family does have some special gifts." She touched his hand. "The queen looks ill. I told Jasper many times that I was concerned for her, but he told me I was worrying about nothing, that women who are expecting are often unwell."
"That sounds like Jasper. It was always hard to convince him of anything."
"But it is not just her condition. If there are signs of a Vampire in the queen's bedchamber, we have a right to be concerned."
"Indeed we do." Rhys contemplated their joined hands and felt a marked reluctance to let her pull away.
"Do you smell that?" she whispered.
"What?"
Verity sat up straight and produced a small dagger. "Wolf."
A shadow moved between them and Rhys also palmed his dagger.
"Good evening, Lady Verity, Sir Rhys." Elias Warner appeared from behind the yew hedge, his smile flickering in the bright moonlight. "It is a pleasure to see you both again."
Rhys put away his dagger, stood up, and bowed. "Good evening, Elias. And how are you faring these days? Not too well if you are willing to seek out your old enemies."
Verity grabbed his sleeve. "Why are you talking to him? Shouldn't you just kill him?"
"I doubt I could." With some difficulty Rhys removed her fingers from the now crumpled velvet sleeve of his doublet. "Elias is an old friend, and despite his handsome appearance, one of the most dangerous Vampires I have ever met."
Elias inclined his head. "Thank you for the introduction, Sir Rhys, but Lady Verity and I have already met. Like her brother, she seems disinclined to trust me at all."
"Why should I trust you? You're a Vampire!" Verity hissed.
Elias raised his eyebrows. "It seems that you are as ferocious as your cousin Rosalind." He glanced at Rhys. "Appearances can be so deceptive, can't they?"
Rhys grabbed Verity's hand. "You can put away your dagger, my lady."
"Thank you, Sir Rhys." Elias smiled. "I am glad that you have returned. As I mentioned to Lady Verity, I am concerned about the queen."
"Why?" Verity demanded. "The Vampires hate the king. Surely you would be pleased if someone disposed of both his wife and his child."
Elias looked insulted and leaned against the rose arch. "Not all Vampires want to kill the king. Most of us simply wish to maintain some semblance of order in this country."
"As long as you are in control of that order, Elias?" Rhys asked.
Anger flashed in Elias's cold eyes. "You would prefer the Vampire Council be run by someone like Anne Boleyn?"
"Of course not, but I don't understand why you need our help."
"Because, as usual, someone wants more power." Elias said dryly. "And because the Council is incapable of resisting the lure of controlling the king and queen, they allow such plots to flourish like monstrous weeds."
Verity stirred in Rhys's grasp. "I didn't sense that the queen had been turned into a Vampire."
"I agree," Elias said. "But why not? If a Vampire can get that close to the queen, why not turn her?"
"That is what we need to find out," Rhys said. "Have you any idea who is involved, Elias?"
"Not yet." Elias grimaced. "My position as Council liaison is already difficult and I suspect I'm being kept out of certain discussions."
"Which is why you turned to us."
Elias hesitated. "In truth, I hoped to see Lady Rosalind and Sir Christopher here as well."
"They cannot leave their home at the moment."
"Ah . . ." Elias nodded. "I wondered about that." He bowed. "Will you allow me to take your blood, Sir Rhys, so that we may find each other more easily?"
Verity shot to her feet and tried to block Elias's path. "You will not touch him!"
Elias's amused gaze met Rhys's over her head. "You have another female protector. How fascinating."
Rhys scowled as he took Verity by the shoulders and set her to one side. "My lady, if he takes my blood, we will be able to summon him when we need him."
Rhys tried not to wince as Elias punctured his wrist with his fangs. The sudden pull on his senses made Rhys swallow hard. Elias finished quickly, his tongue swiping over the wounds to seal them. He smiled at Rhys, the tips of his fangs still bloody. "Thank you, Sir Rhys."
Rhys nodded and Elias vanished. Rhys sank down on the bench under the rose arbor and took a long, slow breath. He hated to admit it, but when the blood was freely given, there was something about a Vampire's bite that was far too sensuous. Perhaps it was the ancient connection between their races that made it so pleasurable---Rhys wasn't sure. He just knew it was dangerous to link himself to a powerful Vampire like Elias for too long. Luckily, the link should last only a day or so.
"Rhys?" He looked down to see Verity on her knees in front of him examining his wrist. "Are you all right?"
He shook himself to get rid of the strange sensations. "I am well."
Verity looked pale. "I have never seen anything like that before."
"A Vampire's fangs?"
She shuddered. "I have seen those, but never used quite like that."
He regarded her for a long moment as he sought the right words. "If you offer your blood willingly, a Vampire can use magic to make the experience very . . . pleasant."
She shivered and searched his wrist for the puncture wounds, which were now almost invisible. "You did not look as if you were enjoying it, exactly."
"I did what was necessary to keep us connected to Elias. Now he can find me when needed, and I him. Sometimes it is useful to have a touch of your enemy's blood. It . . ." He struggled to find the right words to describe the powerful sensation. "It helps me understand the strength of his abilities."
"Well, you are braver than I am!"
He couldn't resist reaching down and cupping her cheek. "Which is why you should go home."
"I will not. I am no coward." She raised her chin, but he kept his hand in place and stared down at her, the exhilarating sense of power he'd gained from that momentary link with Elias pulsing through his body.
"If Elias asks you to let him take your blood, would you allow it?"
She held his gaze, her blue eyes defiant. "Yes!"
He wasn't sure he believed her and leaned in closer until their mouths almost brushed. He touched her full lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "Even if he asks to take the blood from here?" He caught her lip between his teeth and tugged on it. "I've heard that can be a very erotic experience."
Her breathing was as harried as his own and he slid his hand behind her neck and kissed her. He plunged his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers, to share for a long, luscious moment a kiss so fiery that he wanted it never to end.
She flattened her hands against his chest and he drew back and released his hold on her. Her eyes were bright, her expression scornful. "Did you think to frighten me?"
Rhys didn't say anything as she got to her feet, brushed at her satin skirts, and took a stumbling step away from him.
"You forget that I am not a shy virgin to be overwhelmed by your kisses and then sent packing like a child."
Rhys sat back and contemplated her. He needed a moment to control the unruly urges of his body, and her anger gave him that. "Yet you forswear your late husband's name."
"Because my marriage was a disaster and I'm a still a Llewellyn, whatever anyone thinks of me."
He let his gaze travel over her. "I don't think of you as a child, I can assure you of that." Actually he was beginning to appreciate her womanly charms far too well. Judging by his past blunders, if anyone stood in danger of allowing attraction to rule his decision making, it would be him. "I'd much rather kiss a woman who knows what she is about than a virgin."
Her cheeks flushed and then she bit down on her lip. "I am not going home."
"I am beginning to realize that." Rhys stood up. "So we must find a way to work together."
Despite his attempt to set her at ease, her eyes narrowed. "What exactly does that mean?"
"Tomorrow night I will meet you by the queen's chapel and you will demonstrate your fighting abilities to me. If I think you are competent, we will divide up our duties accordingly." He paused to make sure she understood him. "If you aren't able to fight, or I find you unteachable, we will need to think again. Do you agree?"
"I suspect this is yet another ploy to be rid of me."
Rhys bowed. "I have every right to expect the slayers I fight with to be capable of defending themselves."
She sighed. "I suppose you do. I will meet you there after the queen has gone to bed. Good night, Sir Rhys."
"Good night, my lady."
He watched her leave with a certain grim set to his mouth. He'd meant what he'd said. If she couldn't fight, he wasn't going to expose her to the Vampires. He absently touched his lips where her sweet scent still lingered. He would keep her safe---whatever it cost him.
"Before we start, Sir Rhys, there are a few things I wish to ask you."
Verity saw the reluctance on Rhys's face, but she continued anyway. She had no wish to fight him, and in her mind the longer it took for them to come to blows, the better. She looked around the dank underground cavern beneath the queen's chapel to which he'd led her. Despite the heat of the summer evening above, it was as cold as death.
Rhys straightened, giving her a fine view of his open shirt and the pale skin of his chest beneath it. "What exactly do you want to know?"
He'd shed his doublet and heavy waistcoat and wore only his soft leather breeches and the billowing white shirt. His sword belt completed his attire. He was currently lighting candles around a large open space.
"About Elias Warner. Why do you consider him a friend and why does he seem to know my cousin Rosalind as well?"
Rhys sat down on the trunk of weapons he'd shown her earlier. "Elias helped us defeat a rogue Spanish Vampire and Anne Boleyn and her brother."
"But why?" Verity noticed that Rhys's gaze was fixed on her legs and she decided to sit as well. She had donned her brother Jasper's clothes, which still felt strange, but there was no way she could fight Vampires in her cumbersome skirts. "Why would he help us?"
"Because he's adept at surviving the treacherous world of the Vampire Council and he's not averse to using anyone or anything to achieve his goals."
"And yet you said you trusted him."
"As far as any Druid can trust any Vampire." He met her gaze without flinching. "A Vampire like Elias who has survived for almost four hundred years and is prepared to fight on your side is well worth following. Even when he doesn't really wish to save you, he will, if it preserves his own life."
"He scares me a little."
"He should. Elias is a very dangerous man."
"Yet he also knows about my cousin Rosalind's marriage."
"Aye, he always had a strange fondness for Rosalind." Rhys rubbed at something on the hilt of his sword. "And of course, Christopher is . . ." His fingers stilled. "Well, let us just say that the ties between Elias and Christopher run deeper than you might imagine."
"Would Elias harm them?"
He looked up. "I shouldn't think so. He was the one who suggested that the manor house at Avebury was a safe place for them to live."
"Avebury . . ." Verity mused. "Is that where they live?" She pictured the large stone circle, some of the stones shaped like diamonds, other as uneven and rugged as the side of a mountain. To her it had always felt far more powerful than the rigid perfection of Stonehenge.
Rhys's expression hardened. "You do not need to share that information with every Druid you meet, Verity. I would prefer it if Rosalind and Christopher could live in peace from both the Vampires and the Druids."
"I would not betray them. Despite everything, Rosalind is my cousin." He looked skeptical and she hurried on. "Sometimes I have no love for our Druid customs myself."
"And why is that?"
She held his gaze and offered him half the truth. "Because even before she married that Druid killer, Rosalind was always treated unfairly simply because she was a woman and a slayer."
"That is true." Rhys nodded and shifted in his seat. "Now, if you have finished asking questions, perhaps we might proceed?"
Verity held out her hand. "I have one more thing to ask you. How far should I trust Elias Warner?"
His smile wasn't pleasant. "If you remember that his most powerful instinct is to preserve his own skin, you will never go wrong. He'd sell you to the Vampire Council if he thought it would gain him an advantage. But when your interests and his are aligned, you will find him very helpful."
"That isn't very comforting," Verity muttered as Rhys stood up and stretched, making her all too aware of his well-muscled body and fighter's lethal grace.
"It's not meant to be. If he wanted you dead, he'd kill you before you even realized his intent."
"Even if I tried to fight him?"
"Even then."
"So why do I need to prove I can fight if he could kill me so easily?"
Rhys advanced into the center of the lit circle. "Because Elias is on our side. It's all the other Vampires who want to stop you from protecting the king and queen that we need to dispose of."
He waited patiently for her to join him, his stance relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Are you ready, my lady? Do you wish to show me your prowess with a sword or with a dagger?"
Rhys kept smiling as Verity approached him, her expression dubious, her dagger clenched firmly in her hand. She made an unconvincing boy; her curves were too lush to conform to the lines of her male attire. Not that he minded the sight. Her soft appearance only confirmed his instincts that she would be unable to fight.
He nodded at her dagger. "You prefer to work in close, then?"
"I prefer not to fight at all."
Her tremulous words made him want to draw her into his arms and hold her tight, but that wasn't his aim. He needed to show her that she was unsuited to the life of a slayer, and for that to happen he needed to goad her into admitting she couldn't exist in a world he had come to dominate.
"Rosalind struggled to lift a sword at first, so I had the smithy make her a lighter blade." He glanced at the weapons chest. "I'm sure we have one of her blades here. I'll find it for you."
"Rhys, I don't want to hurt you, so why make me do this?"
He brought his dagger up to meet hers. "You won't hurt me."
"You are terribly conceited if you think that." She attempted to stab at him and he dodged easily.
"Am I?" He smiled at her. "Yet you seem incapable of showing me that I'm wrong."
"Because this isn't a real fight!"
"Do you think yourself such an expert that you never need to practice?"
She lunged at him again, and he stepped out of her reach, keeping a mocking smile on his lips that he could see infuriated her.
"Well? Why haven't you beaten me yet? I'm hardly even trying."
She came at him and he brought his dagger hand up sharply and knocked her blade out of her hands. She made a distressed sound and went down on her knees to retrieve it.
Before she could rise, he locked his arm around her throat and bared her neck to the edge of his blade. "And now you'd be dead."
"Let go of me." Her voice shook with fury.
Rhys stepped back and bowed. "Of course, my lady. Shall we proceed or have you had enough?"
Verity got to her feet, whirled around, and ran out of the room. Rhys watched her go as a mixture of emotions shuddered through him. Had he made her cry? He hoped not. Despite everything, he still needed her to observe the queen closely and report back to him.
He set off down the tunnel in pursuit, saw light gleam briefly when she climbed the narrow spiral staircase that opened into the floor of the chapel. He increased his pace and soon had her in his sights as she took the less frequented paths back toward the queen's suite of rooms.
"My lady---stop." He called quietly, but she didn't heed him so he put on a spurt of speed and caught up with her. He touched her shoulder. "Verity."
She spun round to confront him, her chest heaving, her blue eyes fierce and quite tearless. "Why won't you leave me alone?"
He held his hands wide. "Because I need to know if you can fight, and running away from me proves nothing."
She poked him hard in the chest. "You'd already made up your mind that I was useless. I'll never be Rosalind and thus I'll never be good enough for you, whatever I do."
"I don't expect you to match Rosalind. She trained her whole life to become a slayer."
"And in your mind there is Rosalind and there is the rest of womankind, who can never compare with her and therefore must be weak and feeble."
His concern for her disappeared and was replaced by a deepening sense of indignation. "I never said that."
"You didn't need to. We all knew how you felt about Rosalind."
Rhys put away his dagger. "That was a long time ago. We are supposed to be discussing how we will work together, not reminiscing about the past."
Verity stamped her foot. "I'm not the one stuck in the past! Don't you think I might have changed in the last ten years?"
Rhys took an impulsive step toward her, which brought them nose to nose. "I have a perfect right to expect you to be able to defend yourself."
"You have no rights over me at all." She stomped away from him and headed past one of the secluded fountains that enhanced the gardens.
Rhys lunged after her and caught her arm. "Don't walk away from me again."
She rounded on him so suddenly that he caught the back of his boot on the edge of the pond surrounding the fountain. With an all-too-knowing smile, Verity shoved at his chest, sending him backward into the shallow water. As he struggled to sit up, cursing and wiping the water from his eyes, he realized she was poised for flight, her expression one of mingled amusement and fear. With a roar he went after her and she turned and ran. He tackled her to the ground on the soft grass and used his weight to keep her under him. Verity fought the urge to screech as Rhys raised himself off her enough to roll her onto her back. In the moonlight she could plainly see his furious expression. Water dripped off his auburn hair and landed squarely on her face, but she couldn't do anything about it, as he had her arms pinned to her sides.
"You . . ." His hoarse voice made her tremble and then her fear turned to something else, something that made her want to giggle. She couldn't stop the smile from emerging. He looked like some ferocious water god. She started to laugh then, her whole body shaking as he continued to stare down at her.
When she tried to draw another breath her shirt stuck to her like a second skin and his weight seemed to restrict the amount of air she could draw into her lungs. His gaze lowered to her chest and she stopped laughing abruptly as he cupped her breast, gasped as his thumb brushed over her taut nipple.
"If you're going to fight, you should bind them," he murmured, before lowering his head and sucking her breast into the hot cavern of his mouth. Verity pushed her fingers into the thick, wet strands of his hair and held him there, her body pliant under his, her heart thudding wildly as he drew on her. Heat flowered low in her stomach and she arched her back, drawing a groan from Rhys, who pushed back at her, the hard rod of his cock nudging at her belly.
For an exhilarating moment she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of a man on top of her, making her feel, making her want . . . But hadn't she learned that giving in to this sensual dance led to disaster and to ruin---to being tied beneath that man for the rest of one's days?
She opened her eyes and forced herself to release her grip on his head and shoulders. He groaned against her breast and momentarily lifted his head as if to transfer his lascivious attention to her other nipple.
Just then she heard a movement in the trees above them and she shoved Rhys away. The scent of orange blossom made her draw her dagger and get hurriedly to her feet.
A female Vampire descended gracefully from the tree to Verity's right. She had long black hair and startling blue eyes and was smiling down at the still-prostrate Rhys. As the Vampire glided toward him, Verity cut in front of her and raised her dagger.
"Get back, Vampire."
The female stopped and studied Verity, her head on one side. "Who are you?"
"None of your concern. Now leave, or I will kill you."
"You smell like a Llewellyn." The Vampire's blue gaze switched back to Rhys. "Is she a Llewellyn?"
"Aye, she is." Rhys got slowly to his feet, his expression wary as he faced the two women.
"Then why were you fighting?"
"We weren't fighting," Rhys muttered. "We were . . ."
Verity scowled at him. "Do you know this Vampire as well?"
The female laughed. "Of course he knows me."
Verity put her dagger away. "Then how foolish of me to try to defend him." She gave Rhys a pointed stare. "I'm not sure why the Llewellyns are needed when you seem to have befriended every Vampire at court."
"That is scarcely true."
Verity walked a small distance away from the Vampire, who continued to stare at her with great interest. She didn't want to look at Rhys, but he followed her anyway. Moments ago she'd been writhing under him like a moll from a bawdy house while this female Vampire watched.
"Did you know she was there?"
Rhys pushed the hair away from his face. "My lady, I had all my attention on you." His slow smile made her stare at his mouth. "You have proved one thing to me tonight. You are more capable than I am of scenting danger and reacting to it."
Verity sketched him a curtsy. "I thank you for that, at least."
"I mean it. You have keen instincts. You can at least learn how to defend yourself better."
"I know how to defend myself." Verity heard the irritation in her own voice but could do nothing to suppress it and she supposed she had shown little of her ability to Rhys. "And now I'm going to bed so that you can enjoy your chat with your little Vampire friend."
He reached out and caught her arm. "Verity---"
"If I promise to let you help me perfect my slaying skills, will you let me go?"
He dropped his hand from her elbow. "This is not what you think---I haven't allied myself with every Vampire at court." Verity allowed her skepticism to show and Rhys's expression darkened. "By your leave, I will explain everything to you tomorrow."
"I'm sure you will, and in the meantime I will seek out some bindings for my breasts."
His gaze dropped to her damp shirt and he licked a slow line along his lower lip. "Not on my account."
Verity couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't encourage him to remember how very intimate he had been with her breasts. She nodded at him and at the Vampire and left with as much dignity as she could muster.
Rhys waited until Verity reached the safety of the palace walls and then turned back to the female Vampire, who was still watching him. He studied her carefully, aware that she looked even more beautiful than he had remembered in his dreams. Not that he had dreamed of her, of course, nor cared what had happened to her.
"I am glad that you are still alive, Rhys Williams."
"And I am glad to see you too, Olivia Del Alonso."
She sauntered toward him. Her lazy grace reminded him of her half brother, Christopher, and he of all men knew how deceptive that was. She wore all black, much as Christopher tended to do, but she was far more slender and shorter than he. Her coloring was the same, though---the bright blue eyes, slightly olive skin, and crow-black hair.
"What language were you and that woman speaking?"
Olivia's accent still retained a touch of Spain. Rhys frowned at her. Had he and Verity lapsed into Welsh in those most intimate of moments? He hadn't noticed, but seeing as it was both his and Verity's first language, it was hardly surprising.
"It was probably Welsh."
"Ah, I thought I'd heard it before." Olivia nodded gravely. "Do you like this Llewellyn woman as much as the other one?"
Rhys rubbed his fingers over his mouth and remembered the feel of Verity's breast through the wet linen of her shirt. "I like her well enough."
"Well enough?"
Olivia raised her eyebrows and Rhys felt himself color. He thought desperately of how to change the subject.
"Your brother is in good health."
Olivia smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. I know you don't wish to tell me much about him, but I can still sense him. He is of my blood."
A breeze wafted through the trees and Rhys shivered. He was all too aware of his wet clothing and the fact that Verity was right to wonder at his relationship with this particular Vampire.
"Why have you come back to court, Rhys Williams?"
"I cannot tell you. We are enemies---you know that."
"You would kill me if you had to?"
He met her accusing gaze. "As you would kill me if I threatened those you protect."
"If you are back at court it must be for a reason. May-hap I can help." She hesitated. "I would like us to be friends. I do not want to fight against you, Rhys."
Her words echoed Verity's earlier ones and he suddenly felt tired. "But that is the way it is. How can we change who or what we are?"
"My brother managed it."
"Your brother is an exceptionally brave man. He almost died to achieve what he wanted. Are you willing to risk your immortality? And for what, Olivia? To be my friend?"
She bit down on her lip and disappeared, leaving Rhys alone. He started back toward his lodgings, uncomfortably aware of the water squishing inside his ruined boots and the clammy sensation of cold cloth leaching the heat from his skin.
Sometimes he wondered when it would all end, this hatred, this need to kill or be killed. Why by all the saints would any woman want to befriend him? He'd grown callous in the service of his people, his love for Rosalind turned into a ruthless pursuit of his enemies that had led him across England, Wales, and Scotland and only enhanced his fearsome reputation.
His body hummed with frustration and thwarted lust. He glowered up at the forbidding stone walls of the palace. And where had his wanderings led him? Right back to court and to the same problems he had hoped to leave behind.
"And you must write to your mother, Anne, and inform Lady Lisle that if you wish to stay in my service, you must improve the quality of your wardrobe considerably!" Queen Jane picked up Anne's girdle and studied it disdainfully. "This does not pass muster. There are far too few pearls."
Verity winced in sympathy as poor Anne Bassett blushed and curtsied at the queen's stern words. The queen, for all her reputed sweetness of disposition, was very exacting in what she expected from her ladies-in-waiting.
"And your undergarments need to be fashioned from fine lawn, not linen." The queen tossed the girdle back onto the pile of clothing and turned away. As she passed by, Lady Mary put a comforting hand on Anne Bassett's arm, as the girl looked set to cry.
Verity went to join Anne and lowered her voice. "I'm sure Her Majesty doesn't mean to be unkind. She is just trying to make sure that you look your best and have the opportunity to find a wealthy husband."
Anne wiped surreptitiously at her eyes as the queen began a conversation with Lady Mary about swaddling bands for the baby. "I'm afraid that she'll send me home and my mother will be vexed with me for wasting this opportunity."
Verity understood all too well the opportunity that serving the queen gave to a young lady wanting to make a great marriage. All the most influential men were at court and thus all the ladies were on display for them. It reminded her of a glorified cattle market or a horse fair.
"Write to your mother and tell her exactly what the queen said. I'm sure she'll see that you are properly equipped."
Anne nodded. "I'll go and do that now. It will take a while for the letter to reach her in Calais."
Verity watched the young girl leave and settled back to her sewing. She remembered being that young, the fear that she would disappoint her parents, the desire to be married . . . But her marriage had been a disaster, and her young husband had taught her only to fear him.
"My lady?"
Verity looked up to see one of the page boys standing in front of her. He handed her a note, bowed, and retired.
Verity unfolded the note and read the scrawled lines. Rhys wished to meet with her in the queen's garden. Verity glanced across at the queen, who, as usual, seemed happiest talking to her stepdaughter, Lady Mary, and ignoring her ladies. But she had to give the queen credit for striving to make a family out of the king's discarded daughters, for she'd also invited Anne Boleyn's little daughter, the lady Elizabeth, to court and was treating her very kindly.
Being a widow gave Verity one advantage over the spinsterish Lady Mary. The queen was not as worried about guarding Verity's virtue and thus allowed her greater freedom of movement than most of her other ladies.
It took her just a moment to excuse herself to Lady Monteagle and escape the queen's eye. It was quieter than normal in the hallways that connected the buildings. The king was so concerned about the queen's current condition that he had ordered most of his court, especially those who traveled through areas where the plague still raged, to keep away.
The clock atop the queen's chapel chimed twelve times as Verity emerged into the bright sunshine. In a month or so, Queen Jane intended to seclude herself in her apartments at Hampton Court to await the birth of her child. The thought of being immured with the queen made Verity appreciate the warmth of the sun and her freedom even more.
She spotted Rhys waiting for her at the entrance of the gardens. His gaze was fixed on the trees in front of him, which gave her the opportunity to look her fill. Why was she still attracted to him when he obviously wasn't the sweet-natured boy she remembered? But she was hardly the same girl, and he seemed to be quite attracted to her as well. Perhaps it was that they were both lonely. He'd lost Rosalind to a Druid killer and she'd lost her soul in a marriage that should never have taken place.
Desire stirred through her as she gazed at his strong features, the hint of stubbornness around his mouth, the lean, muscled lines of his body. He was three times the man Gareth had been and always would be.
He turned at her approach and a slow smile lit up his even features. "Lady Verity."
Verity was acutely conscious of the warmth of his regard and suddenly ill at ease. What if he thought of her as nothing more than a familiar woman to flatter, someone who knew that his heart was otherwise engaged? And why was she even considering him in that light? She had no intention of bedding him. Did she?
Rhys's smile faded. "Are you still annoyed with me about last night?"
Verity forced a laugh as she went to stand next to him in the shade of the trees. "You're hardly the first man at court who's tried to finagle his way under my skirts."
"Is that so? I thought you said you preferred not to tempt men."
"How exactly did I tempt you? I pushed you into the fountain."
His mouth twitched up at one corner. "Aye, you did."
"That hardly constitutes me urging you on."
He placed one hand on the tree trunk over her head and leaned close to her. "I didn't need any urging."
She found herself staring at his mouth and it suddenly seemed difficult to breathe. She swallowed hard and inhaled his all-too-familiar scent of freshly mown grass and buttery leather. "What exactly did you want to see me about?"
He blinked at her and withdrew his hand. "I wanted to tell you about Olivia."
"That Vampire you were with last night?" Verity moved away from him and continued to walk along the avenue of elm trees. "She allows you to call her by her first name?"
She heard him sigh behind her. "Before I tell you more I need you to swear to me that none of this will ever be passed on."
She looked over her shoulder at him. "Even to my family?"
"Especially not to your family." He hesitated and came up alongside her. "If you cannot keep that promise, tell me now and I will think of another way to explain about Olivia."
Verity considered his words. "I swear to keep everything to myself."
"Thank you." Rhys looked relieved. "Olivia is Christopher Ellis's half sister."
Verity stopped walking. "How can that be? Christopher isn't a Vampire. Rosalind would never have married a Vampire."
"Christopher's mother became a Vampire just after his birth and made a new family for herself with her lover. Olivia Del Alonso is the result of that union."
"But it is extremely rare for a Vampire to create a child."
"I know, but Olivia exists, and she is related by blood to Christopher."
"And he knows of this?"
"He met Olivia last time he was at court. She helped us defeat Anne Boleyn."
"Yet another Vampire who fights against her own kind and deserves your gratitude," Verity murmured. "What does she want with you now?"
Rhys fiddled with the hilt of his sword. "I know not. She said she wanted to help us."
"Help you, more like. I saw the way she looked at you."
Rhys met her gaze. "How did she look at me?"
The way I do, as if I want to uncover every inch of your glorious skin and kiss it. She couldn't say that, even if it was true. "As if she likes what she sees."
Rhys made an impatient movement away from her. "She's a Vampire."
"Does that mean she cannot feel desire?"
"I . . ." He glowered at her. "She is far too innocent."
"To accept what you want from her?"
He went still. "I want nothing from her."
"Even in your dreams?"
Pain flickered in his hazel eyes. "I have no dreams." He visibly collected himself. "If Olivia wishes to help Elias Warner, I cannot stop her."
"That is true."
He cast her a sidelong glance. "But you'd rather she didn't."
Verity shrugged. "I'd rather find out what is happening to the queen and deal with the matter ourselves. I'm not at ease dealing with Vampires."
"Neither was I, at first, but I came to value them."
"And yet you are considered one of the finest Vampire slayers of all time."
"Life is never simple, my lady." Rhys tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and resumed walking. "Surely you know that. The very fact that you are here at court attempting to save the queen must be a surprise to you."
"Jasper was horrified at the idea. He still sees me as a weak and worthless woman."
"You are scarcely that."
Verity smiled up at him. "I'm glad to hear you are revising your opinion of me, Sir Rhys."
"I'll revise it even more once we have a couple of training sessions together."
Verity's smile died. "Do we have to?"
"Aye, we do." He released her hand and bowed. "I'll see you back in the chapel caverns tonight at twelve."
Rhys left Verity and walked on until he reached the main training grounds. Groups of men stood around watching others at sword or dagger play, merrily offering advice or criticizing each other's form. In the near distance the sound of horses being trained for the joust made the ground tremble. Rhys headed toward a group in which he recognized at least two of the men as Druids.
"Good afternoon, Sir Rhys." The older of the two men bowed. "Do you wish to train with us?"
Rhys bowed in return. "I would be honored, Master Davies. I am feeling rather out of practice since my return to court."
"Well, we can't have that." Sir Dafydd Morgan grinned at Rhys. "I'd be happy to take you on."
Rhys quickly shed his heavy doublet and unsheathed his sword. The other three men in the group introduced themselves and then Rhys forgot them as he concentrated on the matter at hand. Dafydd Morgan was an excellent Vampire slayer and a few years younger than Rhys.
A circle soon formed around the two men as they tested each other, their blades engaging briefly in quick parries and then retreating to seek another opening. Rhys was aware of the spectators gathering, Elias Warner among them.
Dafydd's blade came too close to Rhys's cheek for his liking and he resolved to stop looking at the crowd. He almost pushed through the other man's guard, but a quick step back saved Dafydd. He was no longer smiling; his expression was now intent, his brown eyes narrowed.
Time seemed to slow for Rhys as he brought his blade back one last time and waited for that moment of hesitation, that flicker in the other man's eyes that would mean he intended to attack. He rarely fought humans anymore and had become used to the blurring speed of the more dangerous Vampires.
Dafydd's breathing shortened and his guard wavered. Rhys was on him, beating the man to his knees and angling his blade across the other man's throat. A roar of approval from the watching crowd brought him back into himself and allowed him to reach down and help Sir Dafydd to his feet.
Dafydd was smiling. "You are too good for me, Sir Rhys."
Rhys clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm merely older and wilier than you." He turned to Master Davies. "Your nephew does you great credit."
Before Master Davies could reply, another man called out from the other side of the crowd.
"You fight well for a Welshman, Sir Rhys."
Rhys stiffened as he recognized the much bejeweled brother of the queen, Lord Thomas Seymour. His long reddish beard framed a laughing, pleasant face, but Rhys could see no humor in his dark eyes. He bit back a retort. There was no point in antagonizing such a powerful man.
"Thank you, sir."
Lord Thomas inclined his head a regal inch. "Perhaps you would like to take on a real challenge?"
"Not particularly, my lord." Rhys looked around at his suddenly silent companions. "We are just practicing."
"But I insist, Sir Rhys." Lord Thomas snapped his fingers. "I have a Welshman in my retinue whom I would love to see you fight."
Rhys realized he had no choice and wiped his sword on the soft buckskin of his hose. "I would be happy to fight your man, my lord, as long as you understand that it is just for your entertainment."
"You will not even wager on the outcome, Sir Rhys?" Lord Thomas taunted. "Where is your confidence?"
Rhys didn't bother to reply. From the eager muttering in the crowd, he could tell that bets were already being placed, and he could do nothing to stop it. He waited quietly for Seymour's choice to emerge into the center of the circle and concentrated on regaining his breath and resting his body before the next encounter.
The man was tall and fair-haired, his eyes a dark brown. Rhys reckoned they were of an age, but the stranger was lighter in frame than he and less muscled.
"Sir Rhys."
Rhys bowed to the man and took up his fighting stance, noting the confidence of his opponent and the mocking quality of his smile. Their blades met in a clashing salute and then Rhys had no more time to think, only to counter his opponent's fast charges and block them with his own attacks.
Despite his slender build, his opponent was apparently fearless and quick on his feet. Too quick on his feet. Something was wrong, but it was too late for Rhys to do anything but keep fighting and stay alive. His focus narrowed until all he saw was the other man, the speed of his blade, and the smoothness of his breathing
Rhys winced as the man's blade nicked his cheek and he felt the warmth of his own blood trickle down his face. His opponent's brown eyes widened as he inhaled Rhys's blood and displayed the tips of his fangs for a telling instant.
Rhys forgot that he was supposed to be sparring and moved in for the kill. Oblivious to the cheers from the crowd, he picked up his pace and focused on disposing of the Vampire as his instincts and his honor demanded. Under Rhys's punishing blows, the man went down on one knee, his blade held out at an awkward angle to protect his head. Rhys went in to finish him, only to have his sword knocked out of his grasp by one of Lord Thomas Seymour's men.
Rhys fought against the hands that held him back as the Vampire got off the ground and put away his sword. Then he smiled at Rhys and leaned close.
"Go home, slayer. You are not wanted here. Next time I will kill you."
Rhys bared his teeth at the man and was finally set free. He faced Lord Thomas, who looked less than amused.
"You call that a friendly bout? You almost killed him!"
Rhys debated whether Lord Thomas knew exactly what he had unleashed. "I apologize, my lord. Sometimes I forget myself."
"You had better not forget yourself again. This is a civilized court, not some barbaric Welsh castle midden."
Rhys set his jaw. "As I said, my lord, I apologize. Your man seemed overly aggressive. I was just trying to contain his destructive tendencies."
Dafydd Morgan stepped up beside Rhys and cleared his throat. "He speaks the truth, my lord. It was your man who attacked first. Sir Rhys was only protecting himself."
There was a murmur of agreement through the crowd. Lord Thomas Seymour glared at Rhys for another full minute.
"I will not forget you, sir."
"Or I you, my lord."
Rhys bowed as Lord Thomas swept past with all his retinue and then returned his sword to its scabbard. His left shoulder was aching from the series of blows inflicted upon him. The shock of finding himself facing a Vampire had turned his thoughts into chaos.
He turned to Dafydd Morgan. "Thank you for your support."
Dafydd was frowning and looking after Lord Thomas Seymour. "That man you fought. He seemed familiar. Did you know him?"
Rhys wondered if he was the only one who had realized he was fighting a Vampire. Or was he? Had he allowed his own bloodlust to overcome his common sense and seen something that wasn't there? He swallowed and tasted bile. "I don't recall him. Do you know his name?"
"I do not." Dafydd studied Rhys closely. "But I can try to find out for you."
"I'd appreciate that. One would think that such an overconfident man would have been pleased to give me his name." Rhys picked up his heavy jerkin, which suddenly seemed to weigh more than a horse. "I should go and make myself presentable before the evening meal. Thank you for fighting me."
"I wish I hadn't now." Dafydd grimaced. "I'd forgotten you were wounded earlier this year. You probably didn't want to draw that kind of attention upon yourself either, did you?"
"Lord Thomas Seymour will forget me easily enough."
Dafydd lowered his voice. "We'll be available if you need us, Sir Rhys."
"I might need you to organize some patrols for me late at night, but we can talk about it tomorrow."
Rhys took his leave of his Druid companions and slowly walked back to his lodgings. He would pay one of the servants to prepare him a bath and hopefully that would lessen the aches from the two fights. He groaned inwardly at the thought of dealing with Verity later, but reckoned she wouldn't give him too much trouble.
The main problem was figuring out why this man, a possible Vampire, had sought him out and tried to kill him in broad daylight. Someone knew he was back at court and wasn't happy about it.
"We should discuss how you can best serve the queen."
"By staying out of your way?"
Rhys raised his eyebrows and Verity looked back down at her boots. It was late at night and the palace gardens were all but deserted. They stood by the exterior wall of the queen's private apartments, where soft lights flickered through the diamond-paned glass. Heat streamed off the ground and the air was heavily perfumed by the many flowers and rosebushes.
"What do you want me to do?"
Rhys nodded in the direction of the windows. "We have to assume that whatever is troubling the queen happens at night. She is too well watched during the day."
"But hardly anyone is allowed into her apartments while she sleeps."
"Remember, they do not have to be invited in, my lady."
"That is true."
"But let us start with those she permits to attend her."
Verity started ticking off names on her fingers. "The king, obviously. The queen's two brothers, Edward and Thomas, and other members of the Seymour family. Her stepdaughters, the lady Mary and the lady Elizabeth. Lady Jane Rochford."
Rhys stiffened. "Lady Rochford? George Boleyn's widow?"
"I know. She seems an odd choice, but she takes her duties very seriously and is high in the queen's favor."
"Yet you do not like her."
Verity hesitated. "She is arrogant and abrasive and has no patience with the younger girls."
"Do you think she could be a Vampire?"
"I'm not sure. She tends to douse herself in perfume, which makes it hard for me to tell."
Rhys gripped her shoulder. "If you find out she is a Vampire, you must tell me as quickly as possible."
"Or kill her myself."
Rhys's expression tightened. "Have you ever killed a Vampire, Verity?"
Fear crowded her throat as images long suppressed resurrected themselves and played across her mind. She brought her hand to her mouth. "Yes."
"And you did not enjoy it."
"It was . . . extremely unpleasant."
"Which is why, unless you have no choice and have to kill to save the queen, you will call me. Who else frequents the queen's rooms at night?"
Verity shook off her fear. "Two of her ladies are always at hand, but we sleep in the anteroom next to the queen's bedchamber. We can hear her call from there, but we cannot see her."
"You will have to resign yourself to a lack of sleep, my lady, and offer your services to the queen on a nightly basis."
"How am I supposed to do that? Surely that will raise any Vampire's suspicions." Verity pondered the problem. "I suppose I could induce the king to command me to stay every night."
"Aye, if he thought your being there might stop any Vampires getting to his queen and his unborn child."
"I'll seek an audience with him tomorrow."
Rhys nodded. "That is an excellent idea. Now, shall we proceed back to the chapel? We have a lot of work to do."
Verity glared at Rhys as he motioned for her to attack him yet again. She was finding it hard to breathe normally as his constant commands exceeded both her ability and her resources.
"Verity. Do it."
There was no amusement in his voice, just a calm inflexibility that made her want to slap his face. And what had happened to his visage? A livid cut slashed across his right cheek.
She gritted her teeth and went for him again. He stepped to his right, but for the first time she managed to get under his guard and narrowly missed plunging her blade into his left shoulder.
"Duw." Rhys hissed out a curse and stumbled away from her, one hand grasping his upper arm.
Verity immediately dropped her dagger. "You told me to attack you!"
His smile was a little ragged. "Indeed I did, and you caught me unawares." He retreated to the edge of the room and sat down on the weapons trunk with a thump, his skin clammy, his mouth set in a hard line.
Verity brought the flagon of ale from its hiding place and pulled out the stopper. "Have some of this." She waited until he took a long swallow and then took it away from him and placed it on the floor. His color started to improve, but he kept massaging his shoulder. Verity took over the task and he stilled beneath her fingers.
"My lady, if you do succeed in stabbing a Vampire, might I suggest you don't shriek and drop your dagger?"
Verity felt herself blushing. "I promise I will remember that in future." She kneaded his tight muscles. "But I doubt my glancing blow caused all this. Have you been fighting today?"
Rhys smiled faintly. "Now you sound like my mother."
Verity ignored that. Touching him made her feel distinctly unmotherly and far too female.
"It's an old wound."
"Which you made worse by fighting me."
His low chuckle made her innards clench and her fingers tighten on his shoulder. "I didn't expect you to actually hit me, cariad."
"And I doubt I was the first person to attack you."
He leaned his head back against the stone wall. "I trained today."
"So I see." She lightly touched his bruised cheek and he winced. "Are you usually bested so easily?"
"Not usually." His expression hardened. "Not unless others interfere and stop me from completing my kill."
"You tried to kill someone when you were training with them?"
He turned his head until his mouth brushed her fingers. "Only because I was deliberately provoked."
She tried to sound practical as his mouth drifted over her thumb. "Then perhaps he deserved it." His tongue flicked out and licked the pad of her thumb and she tried not to moan.
He lifted his head and she saw his intention to kiss her in his narrowed hazel gaze. She pressed her fingers to his mouth.
"You must not touch me like this."
He took her hand away. "Why not?"
"Because it is not fitting."
"I think we would fit very well together."
Verity's knees buckled at the images his provocative comment aroused in her. "We are supposed to be partners, not lovers."
"Why can't we be both?"
"Because it would be a distraction."
He studied her for a long moment. "You are probably right, but I still want to kiss you."
He raised his head and she didn't stop him, let him kiss her in a leisurely fashion that frustrated the heat building inside her. She slid her fingers into his thick auburn hair to hold him close as he locked his right arm around her hips.
By the gods, she wanted him, wanted to melt into his embrace and let him take her down to the floor and make her his. Unfortunately her past experiences reared up with their objections. She tugged on his hair until he released her mouth and looked up at her, a hint of impatience in his narrowed eyes.
"What's wrong, cariad?"
"I can't do this."
"Up until a moment ago you were doing it very nicely."
"I know!"
He regarded her quizzically for a long moment and then let her go and sat back against the wall with a resigned expression. She couldn't help but notice that he was aroused, the thick ridge of his cock visible through the supple leather of his hose.
"You must think me a tease." Verity started to pace in front of him, her arms folded around her waist. "But I cannot allow my passions to dictate my actions."
"Why not?"
"Because it would be a disaster."
He blinked at her. "I wouldn't hurt you."
"I know that, but . . ." She gazed at him helplessly for a long moment. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me." He shifted his large form into a more comfortable position against the wall and wrapped his arms around his raised knee. "I doubt we will progress much further with anything else tonight if you don't."
Verity walked away from him, presenting him with her narrow back and the long silken skein of her braided hair. It was ridiculous, but he wasn't quite sure why he needed to touch her either and hoped that maybe her explanation might help him understand himself.
But even that wasn't the truth. He'd scared himself today, had seen himself through the crowd's eyes: a cold-blooded killer no different from the Vampires he hunted. Without love, was he losing touch with all that made him human? Something inside him reached out for Verity, for her warmth, for her familiarity, for her touch.
"You know that I was married just after you left Wales?"
Her soft voice jerked him away from his tangled thoughts. "Aye."
"Did anyone ever tell you why I married so young?"
"I never asked. I assumed that was what you wanted."
Verity looked over her shoulder at him. "It was what my parents wanted. For me to have the life they considered appropriate: as a wife and mother."
"And there is nothing wrong with that," Rhys said gently.
"If that is what the girl herself wants."
"You didn't want to marry?"
"I wanted . . ." She paused and turned to face him. "I wanted to be like Rosalind."
"You did?"
"Don't sound so surprised, Rhys. I know you saw me as just another weak and feeble girl---if you ever thought of me at all." She shook her head. "My parents and Jasper loved me, but they stifled me. I felt trapped by their expectations."
"I can see how that might happen." Rhys met her gaze. "I was never given a choice either. My father had been a slayer and after he died I was destined to follow in his footsteps."
Verity tilted her head to one side to study him. "You are considered one of the finest Vampire slayers in existence."
"So I've been told." He couldn't believe they were now discussing his feelings. Wasn't this conversation supposed to be about her? "So what happened to change your plans?"
"Beltane."
"You were the Chosen?"
"Yes. I went without my parents' permission. I was sixteen and extremely foolish. My father insisted I marry the man who claimed me." Her mouth twisted. "When Gareth realized I was a Llewellyn, he was more than willing."
Rhys frowned. "Marriage was not required. No Druid would reject you for giving up your maidenhead to the gods. Quite the contrary."
"No, it was just an excuse my father used. My family was eager to get me settled into a marriage and off their hands. I wasn't a very dutiful daughter."
Rhys let out his breath in a soundless whistle. "So you were married against your will."
She swallowed hard. "Gareth didn't really care for me at all, and I made no attempt to hide my resentment. We did not suit and there was nothing either of us could do about it." She met his gaze, her blue eyes stark. "I'm glad he's dead, Rhys. It set me free."
He was surprised not only by her bleak words but by the strength underlying them.
"How did he die?"
"In a Vampire attack." She bit down on her lip. "It was . . . horrible."
"You were there?"
She looked away from him, tears glinting in her eyes. "We were traveling back to Pembrokeshire from his home when we were ambushed by a band of Vampires. I saw them drag Gareth from his horse." Her hand crept to her cheek. "His throat was torn and bloody and he was screaming for help. I was trying to fight off another Vampire and I couldn't get to him in time."
"Which is when you learned that you have to kill or be killed." Rhys got up and went to her, wrapped her in his arms and rocked her. "It wasn't your fault, cariad---you know that."
She struggled to raise her head and meet his gaze. "It proves that I can kill, though."
He stroked her hair. "In extremis I should imagine most people can."
"Stop trying to placate me!" She pulled out of his arms. "Since Gareth's death I have learned to depend on no one but myself. I resolved never to let myself be led astray by the pleasures of the flesh again. I endured a disastrous marriage because of my desire to be bedded."
He used his fingertips to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. "You were sixteen. By all the saints, at that age I thought of nothing else."
"That is acceptable for a man, but not for a woman."
"Which is ridiculous."
She managed a small smile. "You only say that because you want to kiss me."
"I want to do more than kiss you. I want . . ." He looked down at her softly parted lips and allowed himself to be honest about his desires for the first time in a long while. "I want you naked and writhing in my arms while I plunge my prick deep inside you until you scream my name."
She stared at him, her cheeks flushing with delicate color. "Which is why I need to keep away from you."
"Because you want it too?"
She broke free of him. "Yes!"
"You are not sixteen anymore."
"Are you suggesting that I will make a better choice now when my body is yearning to let you touch me?"
He took another step toward her. "Yes."
"Then you don't understand anything." She clenched her hands into fists. "I don't want to feel like that---out of control, needing a man, needing . . . you."
He kept moving toward her, couldn't have stopped if his life had depended on it. "We don't have to let it consume us. There are ways that we can be together that will bring us pleasure without a full bedding."
She stared at him as if he were the snake in the Garden of Eden, her gaze half fascinated and half afraid. "What pleasure is there in this for a woman? Why should I risk making a fool of myself again by putting myself at the mercy of a man?"
He smiled and held out his hand. "Let me show you. I'll wager that I'll be the one begging for mercy." She folded her arms as if still reluctant, but he kept on. "I have no intention of trapping you into anything. I just want to give you pleasure."
He waited, his hand still outstretched until her fingers closed over his and he drew her near.
She felt right in his arms, a combination of familiar and new that excited him beyond measure. He kissed her forehead, her pert nose; he enjoyed the way her lips parted beneath his with a gasp, allowing him into the warm haven of her mouth. Then apprehension colored his intense desire. Had her husband hurt her, made her fear what should be the most joyous of pleasures?
He stopped kissing her. What did he know of pleasuring a woman? He'd relieved his physical urges, but never with a woman he truly cared about.
"Rhys?" Verity whispered.
He looked down at her and saw the trepidation in her eyes, the way she looked as if she was bracing herself against his invasion of her body. That would never do. Certainty flooded through him. He could do this. He could give her what he'd always wanted to give the woman he loved.
Verity sighed as Rhys kissed her again and tried to relax into his embrace. She'd half expected him to start ripping at her clothing and shoving himself inside her as her husband had liked to do. Once the enchantment of Beltane wore off, Verity had never really felt at ease with his coarse demands.
But this, this was different. Rhys handled her as if she were made of precious glass, as if finding out what pleased her made everything more enjoyable for him too. Verity wrapped her hand around his neck as he lowered his head and kissed a slow path down her throat, untying the neck of her shirt as he went.
She heard his groan as his questing fingers brushed the linen that bound her breasts and reached behind her back to show him where to unravel her from her bonds. He took his time, pushing her shirt off her shoulders and unwrapping her like a parcel. His eyes devoured every inch of skin he revealed, his mouth and hands touching and tasting her until she was writhing against him and struggling to rid him of his shirt.
He angled her across his lap, his face buried between her breasts, the rasp of his stubbled chin an added sensation that made her gasp. He murmured to her in Welsh, endearments tangled with his need for her, his words spoken against her skin as he suckled her breasts.
When his hand slid down over her hip and came to rest between her thighs, she didn't resist him, but let him press the heel of his hand against her most sensitive flesh, warm even through the fabric of her hose.
"Please, Rhys," she whispered, even though she knew her words might change everything, might result in her being thrown on her back and mercilessly taken. His fingers worked at the fastenings of her hose and slid inside. She held her breath as he learned her, shivered as his fingers slipped and circled around her already wet and swollen quim and sensitive bud.
"Verity, you feel beautiful," he murmured as he continued to explore her. "I have to taste you." He sat her on the bench and sank between her now widespread knees, pulling her hose off her legs with her boots.
Before she realized his intention, his mouth was on her most intimate of parts. She grabbed at his hair thinking to stop him and then went rigid as the tip of his tongue toyed with her stiff bud, bringing a wave of pleasure she had never experienced before. His fingers joined the torment, sliding in and out of her in counterpoint to the motion of his tongue.
Verity squeezed her eyes tightly shut and felt the sensations build and build until she had to let them go or die. She screamed his name as her body convulsed, pulsing against his questing fingers and drawing a groan from him that reverberated through her flesh.
Rhys shuddered and rested his face against her thigh, his chest heaving, his hands gripping her bottom, and then slowly raised his head. Verity could only stare down at him and watch as he licked his lips. He winced and reached up to untangle her hands from his hair.
"I pleased you, my lady?"
"You---you," Verity stuttered. "I did not know a man could do that. I did not realize I . . ."
His smile was slow in coming but full of sensual satisfaction. He kissed her knee and moved backward so that she could bring her thighs together. Sensation fluttered through her and she closed her eyes as he stood up and handed her her clothes.
As she dressed, Verity couldn't help but glance at his groin. "Should I touch you? It seems somewhat unfair."
"There is no need." He looked down at himself with a somewhat embarrassed air. "Your satisfaction overwhelmed me and I released my seed like an untried boy."
"Oh . . ." Verity felt her cheeks heating. "I'm sorry."
He bowed. "There is no need to be, my lady. I can scarce complain when all I wanted was for you to take your pleasure. However, I think we should return to our lodgings. I need to change before I start my patrol."
"Oh . . ." Verity repeated, aware of his heated gaze and the curious sensation that he wanted more from her. "Of course we should go. I will seek an audience with the king tomorrow and make sure that I am given leave to guard the queen."
While she finished dressing, he extinguished most of the candles and made sure the weapons were secured. Earlier he'd given her a sword that had once belonged to Rosalind, and in practice she had fared much better with it. The sword now hung from her hip along with her silver-tipped dagger. She might not be as fearsome as Rhys, but at least she was well equipped.
He walked her back to the queen's quarters, his stride steady, his watchful gaze everywhere. At the side door, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you for a most enjoyable evening."
"I scarcely think it was enjoyable for you."
He shrugged, the motion only emphasizing his considerable elegance and strength. "Your fighting skills are improving and I gave you pleasure. What more could a man ask?"
"For his own?"
He smiled. "I'm sure we can remedy that in the future." He paused. "If you are willing."
She gathered her courage. "I believe I am."
"Then I look forward to our next encounter and wish you a good-night."
Rhys bowed and walked away, aware that Verity was still watching him. He ducked his head to avoid some of the lower-hanging branches of the trees and groaned. His left shoulder was aching like the devil and his prick was letting him know how deeply dissatisfied it was with his juvenile performance.
A flicker in the shadows brought his sword to attention and he spun around to see Elias Warner leaning against the nearest tree, Olivia by his side.
"Good evening, Sir Rhys." Elias's gaze seemed to penetrate Rhys's mind and he fought a trickle of unease. "You have been busy today."
For a lowering moment, Rhys wondered what exactly Elias was referring to before he recollected that Elias had been in the crowd watching him earlier. "The man I fought. Do you know him?"
"I do not. He has only recently come into Lord Thomas Seymour's employ. He seemed rather determined to defeat you."
"You noticed that, did you?" Absently Rhys rubbed his bruised cheek. "He warned me off, told me to go home or else he would kill me next time."
Elias frowned. "I had not heard that the Seymours were employing Vampires to protect their sister the queen."
"You thought the man was a Vampire too?" Rhys asked.
"Indeed. Did you doubt it?"
Rhys was aware of a crushing sense of relief. "None of the others seemed to notice. I'd begun to believe it was my imagination."
Elias chuckled. "I've always thought of you as the most practical of men, Sir Rhys. The question that we need to answer is whether the Seymours are employing a Vampire knowingly or unknowingly. The stakes are so high I suspect they would do so knowingly to keep their sister safe and the king in their power."
"Or it may be that there is a Vampire faction devoted to ensuring the ascendance of the Seymours for reasons of their own."
"The Council encourages factions. It keeps the premier families busy fighting among themselves and allows the Council to grab more power."
Rhys swung his attention to Olivia, who had been listening quietly, her hands folded in her lap. "Do you know the man who fought me, Olivia?"
She shook her head without meeting his gaze. Irritation laced through him. Either she wanted to help or she did not. This sudden shyness was not like her.
"Perhaps you might bestir yourself to find out." His tone was sharper than he had intended and Elias glanced at him. Rhys met his interested gaze. "I assumed Olivia was here because she wished to help us."
Olivia stood up, her fists clenched. "I am here to help."
"Then why won't you look at me?"
"I thought you'd prefer it if I didn't."
Rhys raised his gaze heavenward for a brief moment. "What I 'prefer' has no bearing. You must take your orders from Elias."
"I shall. At least he speaks some sense." She hissed and he caught a glimpse of her fangs. By all the saints, he did not want to argue with her now. It had been a long and tiring day. He wanted his bed.
Elias cleared his throat. "I'll find out whether the Seymour family has ties to the Vampire community and let you know."
"That would be helpful." Rhys focused his attention on Elias. "I've set Verity to discover who is getting into the queen's apartments at night and what they might be up to."
"That is an excellent idea. Lady Verity is the closest of us to Queen Jane and she has a keen nose for Vampires."
Olivia snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "Yet she cannot fight very well, can she?"
Rhys glared at her. "Lady Verity is improving. She has some skills and she is willing to learn."
"So I see," Olivia replied. "Although some of the skills you are teaching her are not for the battlefield."
Rhys set his jaw. "Have you been spying on me again?"
"I merely sought you out when Elias asked me to." She shrugged. "It is not my fault if you were too busy 'training' to notice me."
Rhys took an impulsive step forward and Elias moved smoothly to block his path. "I regret that I have nothing more to report at this point, Sir Rhys." Elias even managed to sound genuinely regretful. "I hope to remedy that soon."
"So do I. The queen must live to deliver her child. The Tudor dynasty must survive." Rhys nodded at the Vampire. "I appreciate your help."
Elias looked pained. "Ever since we fought Anne Boleyn and her brother, I have developed a certain . . . tolerance toward humankind. It is very worrying."
Rhys smiled. "Mayhap your connection with Christopher enriches you both."
Elias scowled. "Do not even entertain such a thought! I have survived four hundred years of brutal monarchs, the scourge of the Black Death, rogue Vampires . . . Surely one half-breed human cannot change me!"
Elias disappeared and Rhys was left staring at nothing. He turned to go, only to find that Olivia was still there.
"Can I help you, my lady?"
Olivia inhaled sharply. "You smell of that Llewellyn woman."
"And you are prying into my personal affairs."
"She will use you just like her cousin did, and then leave you for a more powerful man."
Rhys set his jaw and pushed past her. "As I said, this is not your concern."
"It is if she hurts you. I . . ." Olivia hesitated. "I do not want to see you hurt."
Rhys wanted to keep walking, but something in Olivia's voice made him pause. Was it possible that Verity was right? That Olivia was in love with him? He spoke as gently as he could. "Please do not concern yourself with me. I spent many years of my life yearning for something that could never be mine. I don't wish you to suffer like that, Olivia."
She raised her chin at him. "You think I am suffering? Unlike you, I have all eternity to get what I want."
She disappeared and Rhys started walking again. Olivia's reaction hadn't surprised him. It had taken a catastrophe of the worst order for him to understand that Rosalind was not only lost to him but perfectly happy with her choice.
It would be better if Olivia accepted that her relationship with him must remain as it was---untouched by any amorous intent. But she reminded him so much of Christopher with her passion, her honesty, her naive belief that if she truly wanted something she would get it.
Rhys pushed open the door to the East Tower and shut it quietly behind him. Olivia's concern for him was also unnecessary. He was in no danger of being hurt by Verity. Rosalind had meant everything to him, whereas Verity . . .
He paused to stare up into the blackness of the stairwell. What exactly did Verity mean to him?
"You wish to do what, Lady Verity?" The king's voice rose with every word and rebounded off the oak-paneled walls and ornate ceiling. Verity fought hard not to wince.
"Do you believe my wife is in danger?"
King Henry was a large man with a fiery disposition and her quiet request to watch over the queen had obviously stirred his temper. His fair skin was flushed red and his small eyes were narrowed and fixed on her.
"There is no cause for alarm, sire. I simply wish to offer the services of the Llewellyn family as an extra safeguard for your queen during this important time."
King Henry paced the dais in front of her and the gold embroidered thread in his doublet glinted in the candlelight. Verity held her breath. It was just before the last meal, and beyond the tightly closed doors she could hear his courtiers stirring and laughing. The king stopped pacing and pointed his finger at her.
"You are certain that the queen is not in danger?"
Verity met his suspicious gaze. "I am not aware of any immediate danger surrounding her, sire. I just wished to offer my family's help."
The king stared at her for so long that she almost forgot to breathe.
"All right, then. Guard my wife. If anyone dares take issue with you, tell them it is a royal command."
Verity curtsied low. "Thank you, Your Majesty." She backed out of his presence, leaving him still frowning. Verity consoled herself with the thought that almost lying to her monarch was a small price to pay to keep his wife and unborn child safe. She must remember to confess the sin on the morrow.
She walked down the drafty stone hallway that connected the king's apartments to the great banqueting hall. A stream of people headed in the same direction and the fatty stench of roasting meat from the kitchen fires caught at the back of her throat. There had to be more she could do to help the king. If only she was as skilled with a blade as Rosalind had been.
Up ahead, she noticed the unmistakable gleam of Elias Warner's golden hair. Perhaps there was something she could do after all. She picked up her heavy bronze skirts and ran to catch up with him.
"Master Warner."
He turned at the sound of her voice and regarded her quite amiably. "Lady Verity. May I escort you into the great hall?"
Verity took his proffered arm and admired the lavish silver lace on his sleeve. "Thank you, Master Warner, but I wonder if I might speak to you in private?" She smiled and his silver eyes narrowed. "I promise I will not keep you from your dinner for long."
"As you wish, my lady."
Elias guided her out of the great hall and toward the separate kitchens. Servers were already running between the two buildings carrying huge platters of food to feed the hungry masses in the hall. He opened a side door that led into a deserted corridor and followed her inside. The musty scent of preserved apples and pears filled Verity's nostrils and reminded her of home.
"Now, what can I do for you, my lady?"
Verity took a deep breath. "I wish you to take my blood."
His sudden smile revealed a hint of his fangs. "You wish to offer yourself to me as food? I am honored."
"No! I wish you to take my blood as you took Rhys's, so that we can call on each other in an emergency."
"I am not sure about this, my lady." Elias frowned. "Sharing blood with any Druid, let alone a Llewellyn, is considered most unwise among the Vampire kind."
"Even for a Vampire as powerful as you?"
"Ah, you seek to appeal to my vanity." Elias nodded approvingly. "I find that quite tempting. I'm not afraid of your power."
"And I am not afraid of yours."
Elias held her gaze. "Give me your hand, then."
She placed her right hand in his. He turned it over and raised her wrist to his nose. "Your heart is beating very fast. Do you feel like prey?"
Verity swallowed hard as she watched his fangs extend and scrape gently against her skin.
"My lady, close your eyes if you are afraid."
The slightly mocking quality of Elias's words made Verity even more determined to look. She gasped as his fangs sank into her wrist and then moaned at the sensation. It reminded her of Rhys---of his mouth on her most intimate parts, drawing pleasure from her . . .
As her knees gave way, Elias caught her around the waist and kept her upright. Her face was pressed against the gold chain on his chest and her left arm was wrapped around his neck. Verity stayed in his arms, feeling a peculiar comfort in the Vampire's strength as he finished feeding.
"Are you all right, my lady?"
She looked into his face, and for the first time saw not the cold mask he wore but the man beneath, the complex being who inhabited a dangerous, threatening world that she understood only too well. Before she could stop herself, she reached up to touch his cheek and he jerked his head away.
Mortified, Verity snatched her hand back. "I'm sorry."
Elias attempted a laugh. "It is of no matter. A Vampire's bite can produce the strangest of reactions, even among Druids. Though I am the one taking your blood, a little of mine lingers in you too."
Verity eased away from him until she leaned back against the wall. "It didn't affect you, then?"
He licked the tips of his fangs and swallowed hard. "I confess, the purity of your blood made it hard for me to stop drinking."
Verity shivered at the mellow sweetness of his voice. Druids were supposed to be immune to the effects of a Vampire's magic, yet she couldn't shake off the sense of Elias's power. She wanted to touch him again, to feel his fangs scrape delicately along the pulse at the base of her throat . . .
With a gasp she shook her head to try to clear such insidious thoughts. "Thank you."
Elias bowed and offered her his arm again. She took it reluctantly, aware that his nearness was still confusing her. She wondered if he felt the same and was simply better at concealing it. He glanced sideways at her and she caught a glimpse of turmoil in his silver eyes, which he quickly suppressed.
"What did Sir Rhys say about your intention to have me take your blood?"
"I have not had the chance to tell him yet."
Elias opened the door for Verity to pass through. "He will not be amused at the thought of a Vampire tasting a Llewellyn's blood."
"Then perhaps I won't tell him after all."
Elias gave a delicious chuckle. "Poor Sir Rhys. It seems the Llewellyn women are destined to outwit him at every turn."
"I hardly think so," Verity protested. "Sir Rhys seems to hold all the power in our relationship."
"I doubt he feels that way." Elias stopped by the main doors into the great hall and bowed. "Sometimes Sir Rhys is too honorable a man for his own good."
Verity scanned the Vampire's amused face. It was back to being a mask that concealed all traces of his real emotions. "You will not tell him what I have done, will you?"
"And risk the anger of such a formidable opponent?" Elias brought her wrist to his mouth and kissed the place where he had taken her blood. The tip of his tongue glided over the puncture wounds and she gasped. "I will keep it a secret just between us."
Verity quickly reclaimed her hand and waited until Elias went past her into the great hall. Through the open doorway, she could see both the king and the queen sitting at the high table. Even though the court was reduced in size, there was still very little room for everyone to sit.
The thought of food made her nauseous and she turned back to the queen's apartments. Her impulsive decision to share blood with Elias seemed more foolish and reckless with every step. To her relief, the majority of the queen's ladies had followed the queen to dinner and the apartments were deserted. Verity smiled at two of the older ladies who had remained behind. They both came from Druid families.
"Good evening, Lady Rhiannon and Lady Sian. Is the queen's bedchamber empty?"
The older lady looked up from her sewing and nodded. "Indeed, my lady. The queen and Lady Mary have gone to the great hall to eat with the king."
Verity lowered her voice. "I need to search the queen's chamber. Will you let me know if anyone approaches? I'll be as quick as I can."
"Of course, my lady."
Verity picked up her skirts and tiptoed into the silent bedchamber. It still smelled faintly of Vampire, a stale mixture of spoiled flowery scents that deeply worried Verity. She gazed at the large canopied bed where the queen slept and shuddered at the thought of having to share it with the pudgy King Henry.
She studied the oak paneling that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. It was possible that there was a perfectly human way for the queen's bedchamber to be entered secretly. She'd heard rumors that the palace was riddled with passageways, including the ones Rhys had shown her beneath the chapel. Mayhap there was a secret passage a mortal could use as well. She noticed that the wall opposite the windows had an irregular pattern in the paneling, which had been broken up with the carving of a single Tudor rose.
Hardly daring to breathe, Verity crossed the room and stood in front of the carving. She ran her fingers down the wall and detected the slight edge of an opening that ran from above her head to the floor.
"Lady Verity!"
Without a second thought, Verity turned and ran back the way she had come. She took the vacated chair beside Lady Sian and concentrated on evening out her breathing. Lady Sian handed her a piece of sewing and she bent her head as if she were completely engaged in her task. A mere moment later, she heard the harsh voice of Lady Rochford and the milder tones of Lady Rhiannon, who had obviously tried to delay her.
Verity looked up as Lady Rochford swept past the fireplace and into the queen's bedchamber. Luckily, Lady Rochford seemed not to have noticed anything amiss. She was too busy complaining about the heat in the queen's rooms and ordering the servants to open all the windows. Verity agreed with her about the heat. The king was so afraid of illness that he preferred to keep the palace shut up tight against what he considered the unhealthy effects of fresh air.
Lady Rhiannon joined them and took back her sewing. She glanced at Verity. "I see that you managed to avoid the gorgon."
Verity risked a smile. "I did. Thank you. I was hoping you might both grant me a favor. The king wishes me to guard the queen every night. I would be more than willing to take your places on the nightly roster."
Lady Sian laughed. "And allow us to sleep in peace in our own beds? Do you think we will refuse you?"
"If you know of any other ladies who would be willing to swap with me without drawing the attention of Lady Rochford, I would love to hear from them."
"I will ask." Lady Sian paused as Lady Rochford swept past them again, two servants at her heels. "Are you worried that Lady Rochford will find out and stop you?"
"If she dares to inquire, I'll tell her that it is at the king's command. I doubt she'll be willing to confront him."
Lady Rhiannon nodded. "We have no love for that woman. In fact," she whispered, "we've wondered whether she is a Vampire like her late husband. There is a certain smell around her . . ."
"I have wondered that myself," Verity replied.
But why would Lady Rochford want to harm a queen who held her in such high favor? Verity shook her head. Perhaps they were all wrong and Queen Jane, like many women, was simply struggling to carry a child.
Verity looked up as the double doors opened and the queen and her attendants entered the apartments. Queen Jane appeared to be in good spirits and was smiling at something Lady Mary was telling her. Verity heard the distant chimes of the chapel bell and carefully counted them. She needed to speak to Rhys before she came back to the queen's side to begin her nightly vigil.
She curtsied in the queen's direction, nodded gratefully to her two companions, and headed for the door. For the first time since coming to court, she made sure she knew exactly where her silver-tipped dagger was as she walked along the shadowed passages and halls of the great palace. Her heart was beating far too quickly. Elias Warner had described her as prey and she could understand how that might feel.
Rhys was waiting for her in the queen's chapel, his head bent in prayer. The flickering candles made his hair gleam like burnished copper. She slipped into the pew beside him and knelt to pray herself. The familiar words comforted her and she began to relax. Rhys's shoulder was solid against her own and she wondered what it would be like to lean on him and to take comfort in his strength.
But was any man capable of offering a woman his protection without expecting her to give up strengths of her own? Rhys hadn't stopped Rosalind from becoming the fighter that she needed to be. But then everyone knew that Rhys had loved Rosalind . . .
Rhys made the sign of the cross and Verity followed suit. He got up from his knees and offered her his hand to help her up. They walked back into the vestibule of the chapel and she touched his sleeve.
"You look very fine tonight, Sir Rhys."
His cheeks flushed as he contemplated her hand on his sleeve. "I was tired of wearing borrowed clothes. I had this made for me."
Verity traced the black embroidered leaves and flowers that climbed the dark green silk from his wrist to his shoulder. He also wore a black sleeveless padded over-gown, which opened at the front to show the rest of the embroidered green jerkin. "It is lovely."
"But not very practical."
She smiled at him. "Then let us hope that we aren't attacked by any Vampires tonight. I would hate to see such magnificence ruined."
Rhys looked her over. "You aren't dressed to train either."
"I have no time to train tonight." He opened his mouth to argue and she continued, "I am guarding the queen, so I do not have time to change."
"The king agreed to your request?"
"Not without some suspicion as to my intent." Verity shivered. "He is a frightening man."
"He is the king." Rhys studied her closely. "You seem upset. What else has happened?"
"I had the opportunity to search the queen's bedchamber while she dined with the king."
"And?"
"I think there might be a secret door in the paneling."
Rhys frowned. "You think, or you know?"
"I didn't have the opportunity to open it. Lady Rochford was coming." Verity hurried on. "But this means that it might not be a Vampire threatening the queen. It could be anyone who has access to that secret passageway."
"I suppose that is true." His mouth set in a now familiar obstinate line. "But I still think there is a Vampire involved somewhere."
"Hopefully I'll be able to tell you more after tonight." Verity squeezed his arm. "If anything happens, that is."
He took her firmly by the shoulders and looked down at her. "You will be careful? I intend to patrol as near to the queen's apartments as I can, so call for me if you need me."
Verity scowled at him. "I'm not a child. I'll do whatever is necessary to keep the queen safe."
"Good." He let go of her and turned to open the heavy arched door that led out of the chapel. "Shall I escort you back to the queen?"
"If you wish, but she will not allow you inside her apartments at this hour." Verity chose not to wait for him and stalked ahead, her earlier fear submerged in a tide of exasperation at Rhys's attitude. She sniffed disdainfully and caught the hint of rosemary to her left just as she heard a whispered, "There she is!"
Even as she drew her dagger and turned to face the threat, she heard Rhys's sword hiss out of its scabbard and he was suddenly beside her. "Run, Verity."
She ignored him and concentrated her attention on the two Vampires who were running toward them. Neither appeared to be armed, although their fangs were already elongated and gleamed in the moonlight.
"Verity---"
"If they are after me, Rhys, I can scarcely run away. They'll just follow."
Rhys had no more time to plead with her as he launched himself at the bigger Vampire. He could only pray he'd finish this one off quickly enough to give Verity a chance to escape. He met the male head-on, his sword already angled to slice through the man's neck. The Vampire ducked and rolled to his right and then came at Rhys again. Barely avoiding the snapping fangs, Rhys pivoted on his feet and brought his blade around in a swinging arc that caught the Vampire on the back of the neck. The force of his swing continued the motion and sliced clean through the surprised Vampire's throat.
Rhys cursed as he was sprayed with blood. He should have known it was a mistake to dress up in his new finery to impress Verity. The Vampire's head hit the ground and bounced along the brick pathway. The headless body fell more slowly, rather like a tree, and Rhys had to sidestep it in his rush toward Verity, swiping at his eyes to clear the blood.
To his great relief, Verity appeared to be holding her own against the female Vampire. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the Vampire's face and her dagger was positioned to stab the Vampire's flesh. He waited for the right opportunity and then yelled, "Verity, duck!"
She looked up at him and the Vampire snapped at her dagger hand, ripping away her sleeve. She dropped her weapon and cried out, but Rhys was already dispatching the female, his sword cutting cleanly through her neck. A moment later he knelt between the fallen bodies and made sure to stab both Vampires through the heart. He brought his fingers to his lips and whistled, hoping to God that Dafydd and his Druid patrol might be within earshot and come to their aid to dispose of the bodies.
An answering whistle made him breathe a prayer of relief and finally turn his attention to Verity, who sat with her back against the wall, her dagger once more in her hand.
"Verity, are you injured?" She shook her head, but he could see that she was trying to conceal her right hand from his gaze. "Verity---"
Dafydd appeared and Rhys had to turn away from her. He gave his full attention to ensuring that the headless Vampires were swiftly bundled into sacks. Dafydd and his men left as silently as they had arrived. Rhys gazed down at the remaining pools of blackened blood, tasted it on his lips, and grimaced. As soon as the sun rose, the blood would disappear. He could only hope that in the darkness no one else would see it.
He turned back to the wall and realized that Verity had gone. His heart seemed to stutter to a stop. His keen gaze caught a glimpse of fresh blood on the path and he followed the trail, his sword out, his face bloodied. He hoped he didn't run into any of the king's courtiers and frighten them to death. But he had to find Verity. He had to.
Verity had waited until Rhys turned his back on her and then she made for the bushes as fast as she could. She had no wish to see what Dafydd and his men intended to do with the bodies. She reached the secluded fountain court where she'd once dumped Rhys in the water and her stomach rebelled. By the time she finished retching and rinsing her mouth out with the tepid water, Rhys was upon her, his expression furious.
"What by all the saints were you doing?"
Verity ignored him and tried to get to her feet, but he knelt beside her and shook her shoulder. "You should never wander off with a fresh wound. It is like offering yourself up as a Vampire's next meal!"
She scowled at him. "Stop shouting at me. You should be glad I didn't stay to puke on your boots."
"I'll shout as much as I like if you ever do anything so reckless again."
She closed her eyes so that she didn't have to look at him. He let go of her arm and she heard water splashing as if he was washing himself. Pain throbbed down her right arm and she half opened her eyes. Rhys seemed occupied, so she slowly unclenched her fingers and studied the gash on her hand.
She gasped as Rhys's water-cold fingers closed around her wrist. "Did the Vampire bite you?"
"It's just a little cut."
Rhys ignored her and with his dagger he slashed her sleeve away from wrist to elbow. He suddenly went still and then slowly raised his head to stare into her eyes. Something in his expression chilled her. Had he noticed the marks left by Elias's bite?
"Verity . . ." Rhys whispered.
She tried to look unconcerned. "I tell you, the wound is nothing."
He shook his head. "Not that." She shivered as his fingers traced the dark outline embedded in her skin. "By all that is sacred, why did you not tell me you bear the mark of Awen?"
"It is none of your concern." Verity tried to pull her hand away, but Rhys wouldn't let her.
"Verity . . ." Rhys hesitated as if for once uncertain of how he should proceed. "The mark of Awen is a sign of great favor from our gods. Why have you concealed it?"
"My parents made that choice, not I."
"But why?" Rhys shook his head. "The priests believed that Rosalind's mark was an abnormality. They even argued whether to let her live. If they had known about you---"
"Then perhaps Rosalind's life might have been easier?" Verity found herself glaring at him. Of course, his concern was all for Rosalind. "Why do you think my parents chose not to reveal mine? They didn't want me to suffer as she did." Verity finally managed to pull her hand free.
With an exasperated sound, Rhys cut through the rest of her sleeve and made a makeshift bandage to cover her palm. "I have a salve that will help your hand to heal. I'll bring some for you as soon as I can."
Verity nodded as her hand continued to throb in time with the erratic beats of her heart. She'd spent her whole life trying to conceal the mark of Awen, and to be discovered now---by Rhys, of all people---was a disaster.
She grabbed for his blood-splattered sleeve. "You must not tell anyone."
"Verity, how can I not? You carry one of the most sacred marks of our religion." He paused. "You also have a perfect right to be here guarding the king. Why didn't you just show me the mark when I first doubted you?"
"Because I've spent years hiding it!" Verity hated the way her voice was trembling, but considering the day she had endured, she wasn't really surprised.
"It's all right, cariad."
With a muttered curse, Rhys reached for her and brought her to sit in his lap. His arms closed around her, and even though he smelled horribly of Vampire she was still glad to be held.
He spoke against her hair. "I understand why your parents might have feared for your life when you were small, but once you were free of them, didn't you want to tell the truth?"
"I was never free. I went from being their child to being Gareth's wife. And then there was no chance for me at all."
She felt Rhys tense. "Did your husband know of this?"
Verity closed her eyes. "He was a traditionalist who didn't believe that women could be slayers. He forbade me to even talk to Rosalind and insisted that it would shame him if anyone knew I was so marked."
Rhys picked up her right hand and brought it to his lips. "Your husband was a fool. It is an honor to be chosen by the gods." He kissed her fingertips. "I am honored to fight beside you. You did well tonight."
Verity looked up at him and saw the truth of his words in his direct gaze. "And I will learn to do even better."
He smiled into her eyes and gently lifted her back onto her feet. "Your sleeves are ruined."
Verity brought her hand to her mouth as she finally took stock of his appearance. "As is your beautiful new jerkin."
He brushed halfheartedly at the drying blood. "Mayhap it can be saved; sometimes the Vampire blood just disappears in the daylight. Otherwise I'll have the tailor make me another one." He held out his arm. "I suggest you go and change and then return to the queen's apartments. We don't want to alarm her in her current condition."
Verity almost complied before she realized he might be trying to distract her. "Rhys, you must promise not to tell anyone about me."
Rhys halted. "I'm a loyal servant of your grandfather, my lady. How can I keep such a thing from him?"
"Because I ask it of you."
"Verity, since Rosalind has been banished, there is no Llewellyn slayer to defend the king."
"There is Jasper."
"But only you have the mark of Awen. Don't you want to take your rightful place?"
Verity stared at him. Did she? And did Rhys really think she was capable of it?
"I'm not Rosalind."
His laugh was short. "On my honor, there is no danger of me confusing you with her."
Resentment blossomed in her chest. "Of course there isn't. I have none of her outstanding abilities, do I?"
He scowled at her. "Let us not make this personal. I am concerned about the good of our race. Denying your heritage affects more than just you and me. Knowing that another Druid bears the mark of Awen, and is at court protecting the king, would gladden all Druid hearts."
"Even though that Druid is a female?"
His expression took on an obstinate turn. "They accepted Rosalind. They will accept you."
Impulsively she reached out and cupped his cheek. "Can you at least wait until we have solved this problem with the queen? By then we should both have a fair idea whether I am worthy to be a Vampire slayer or not."
"Verity---"
She pressed her fingers to his lips. "Please, Rhys. I promise I will abide by your decision then."
He removed her hand and stared down at her. "If we both survive to have that discussion."
"If we don't, then I wasn't worthy of the job anyway, was I?" She stepped away from him and curtsied. "Good night, Sir Rhys."
The clock struck midnight and Verity eased herself into a more comfortable position on the narrow straw-filled pallet. The lady-in-waiting who lay beside her in the queen's antechamber was already fast asleep and Verity had no intention of waking her.
Verity had no problem staying awake. Her whole body was alert, thanks to her desire to safeguard the queen and the earlier fight with the two Vampires.
Not to mention her altercation with Rhys . . .
A single candle burned by the small window, casting flickering shadows on the paneled walls. The door to the bedchamber had been left ajar so that if Queen Jane needed anything she could call out to her ladies. It was so quiet that Verity could hear the queen's even breathing. She glanced at the window and wondered whether Rhys was nearby. He'd told her that he intended to remain close.
Not that she wished to see Rhys Williams. His lofty demand that she reveal the mark of Awen to everyone terrified her. She'd spent years being told she should be ashamed of it, by her parents and then by her husband. Why should everything change now?
As Rhys had agreed, she wasn't Rosalind. She never could be. Her cousin had stood up against the priests, the Elders, and even their grandfather and asserted her right to be a Vampire slayer. But Verity knew it had cost Rosalind dearly. She'd been forced to inhabit a world where she was mistrusted by many of her male peers and avoided by the females, who thought she had behaved in an unwomanly fashion.
For a long while, Verity had secretly wished she too could have Rosalind's life---until she'd recognized the stark reality of Rosalind's isolation. Even if it was a disloyal thought, she wasn't surprised that Rosalind had found love outside the charmed circle of her Druid brethren.
A scratching noise made Verity open her eyes wide and slowly sit up. She held her breath as the sound grew louder and was followed by an ominous creak. She inhaled and caught the faint scent of pansies on her tongue, followed by something more male. She had to assume that more than one Vampire was approaching.
The candle flame flickered and went out, leaving her in complete darkness. She tensed as the hairs on her arm prickled and her head began to ache. Someone was using magic.
Verity felt for her dagger and crawled slowly toward the half-open door that led to the queen's bedchamber. She could only hope that whoever was inside the room didn't have a candle, or they would easily see her pale nightgown.
Hardly daring to breathe, Verity used the heavy oak side table next to the door to lever herself up a little. There was no sound of voices from inside the room, which only affirmed her suspicions that whoever was there was up to no good.
She strained her eyes and tried to make out the ghostly shapes that now hovered around the queen's bed. The sharp sweet tang of blood assaulted her senses, along with the gentle sound of sucking.
There was no time to call Rhys. She would have to go into the chamber and find out exactly what was going on. Verity slowly stood up and then froze as a heavily beringed hand descended on her shoulder.
"Lady Verity, what are you doing?"
Verity's breath hissed out as she realized it was Lady Rochford, dressed in her night robe and covered by a shawl. She managed to slip her dagger back into her hanging pocket.
"Oh, thank goodness it is you, Lady Rochford! The candle went out and I thought the queen called out to me. I was just trying to find my way across to her in the dark."
Lady Rochford tugged at Verity's arm and marched her away from the queen's bedchamber. Verity waited as Lady Rochford relit the candle and held it up to Verity's face. "Let's go together and see how the queen fares, shall we?"
Verity accepted that she had no choice in the matter and dutifully followed Lady Rochford into the queen's bedchamber. There was no sign of anyone apart from Queen Jane, who lay on her back, apparently sleeping peacefully, the mound of her belly visible beneath the thin linen sheet.
Lady Rochford put the candle down and glared at Verity. "Her Majesty is fast asleep. You must have been dreaming."
"Perhaps I was, my lady." Verity studied the queen and noticed how shallow her breathing was. The scent of blood hung over the bed like a pall. She leaned closer and identified two neat puncture marks at the base of the queen's throat.
Before she could do more, Lady Rochford took her by the elbow and led her back out into the antechamber. The scent of blood was replaced by the scent of foxgloves and Verity took an unsteady breath.
"You may retire, Lady Verity. I will stay with the queen for the rest of the night."
Verity curtsied. "There is no need, my lady. I'll stay."
Lady Rochford's dark eyes narrowed. "You take your duties very seriously, Lady Verity."
"Of course I do." Verity opened her eyes wide. "I would do anything to protect the queen and the heir, wouldn't you?" She paused to make sure that Lady Rochford understood her. It seemed the time for subterfuge was already past. "I would particularly hate to have to worry the king."
"As if the king would care for anything you had to say about the matter," Lady Rochford sneered.
Verity smiled. "You might be surprised by how seriously the king takes my warnings."
"If you bother the king, I will ask Queen Jane to dismiss you."
"I would advise you not to meddle, Lady Rochford. The king will not countenance my removal."
Lady Rochford gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. "Are you suggesting you are on intimate terms with the king, Lady Verity?"
"It depends how you choose to define 'intimate.'" Verity held Lady Rochford's gaze. "I am, after all, a Llewellyn."
Lady Rochford sucked in a breath. "Just because your family is Welsh doesn't mean the king owes you any special favors."
Verity contented herself with another confident smile and returned to her pallet and her still sleeping companion. Magic was definitely in the air if the woman had slept through her confrontation with Lady Rochford.
"Good night, Lady Rochford."
With a last indignant twitch of her skirts, Lady Rochford walked away, leaving Verity to her vigil. Verity shivered as she stared through the darkness at the queen's door. Stripped of the perfume she normally wore during the day, Lady Rochford had revealed herself to be what Verity and the other women had feared: a Vampire.
But it wasn't her scent Verity had detected in the queen's bedchamber. There had been at least two Vampires in the room. She wrinkled her nose as she tried to recall the faint scents. One had been female, the other far more unpleasant and almost familiar. She fought back a wave of nausea. She had to assume it was a male. And then there had been that sense of strong magic. Had that come from yet another Vampire?
Verity wrapped her arms around her knees and swallowed hard. Things were indeed precarious for Queen Jane and her unborn child.
She opened her hanging pocket and took out her dagger, which she laid beside her pallet, followed by her rosary. There was no point in pretending she would sleep again this night. Her fingers closed around the familiar amber beads and she began to pray.
While he waited for the others to appear, Rhys paced the uneven stone-and-tile floor of the ruined Roman bathhouse on the outskirts of the palace grounds. It was almost midnight, but thanks to the full moon he was able to see quite clearly. He was wary of meeting both his Vampire allies and Verity in the same place, but he had no choice. Verity's message had insisted on it.
Whatever had happened last night had obviously alarmed her enough to include Elias and Olivia. Rhys frowned down at his boots. He'd seen Verity briefly that morning when she accompanied the queen to the chapel, so he knew she was unharmed. Frustration burned in his gut. If he had his way he'd send her home and keep her safe. But she bore the mark of Awen. It was his duty to make sure that she learned all the skills necessary to honor her ancient calling as a slayer.
"Rhys?"
He looked up and saw Verity stepping through the broken stones, her face pale and her expression strained. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, but he resisted the impulse. If he touched her, he wouldn't want to listen to her talk; he'd want to kiss her until the only thing she was capable of doing was begging him to . . .
"My lady." He bowed and waited for her to come to him. She wore a blue gown that matched her eyes, with a silver bodice and sleeves. "Are you well?"
She bit down on her lip. "I didn't sleep last night. I---"
He held up his hand. "Shall we wait until Elias and Olivia arrive? Then you won't have to repeat yourself."
She stiffened. "Why does Olivia need to be here?"
"Because she is helping Elias." He held her gaze. "You did say I should invite our allies."
"I meant Elias Warner, not your . . ."
"My what?"
She raised her chin at him. "Your sweetheart."
"You of all people should know she is hardly that, my lady." He continued to stare at her until she dropped her gaze.
"I suppose it doesn't really matter," she murmured. "We'll need all the help we can get."
A prickle of awareness between his shoulders made Rhys turn to see Elias and Olivia approaching through the trees. Olivia also wore blue, but was, as always, dressed like a man. Idly, Rhys wondered whether she even owned any female attire. She was tall and slender and made a fine boy, but he'd like to see her dressed as a woman.
"Good evening, Elias, Olivia." Rhys bowed and gestured for them to join him and Verity in the center of the shell of the ruined bathhouse. He sat down on one of the sheared-off pillars and Olivia and Elias followed suit. "Lady Verity has some important news she wishes to share with us."
Elias nodded, his expression equally grave. "As do I."
Rhys glanced at Verity, who was covertly watching Olivia. "Lady Verity?"
He and the others listened as she quickly recounted what had happened the night before.
"You believe Lady Rochford is a Vampire."
Verity nodded. "She wasn't wearing her usual heavy perfume, so I was able to detect her true scent and nature." She hesitated. "Unfortunately I also had to let her know who I am. She tried to force me to leave the queen alone with her and then she threatened to have me dismissed. I had to assure her that the king would not be pleased about that at all."
"And what did she do then?" Rhys asked.
"She let me be." Verity grimaced. "I doubt it will be for long. The loathing in her eyes was quite plain."
Elias stood up. "Lady Rochford is indeed a Vampire."
Rhys scowled at him. "And when did you find out that particular piece of information?"
Elias raised his eyebrows. "When I accidentally came across the lady late last night, talking to one of the more senior members of the Vampire Council. She seemed extremely agitated. It is the first time I've seen her in the Other Realm."
"Can you identify who else might have been in the queen's bedchamber?" Rhys frowned and turned back to Verity. "You said you smelled pansies and something more male?"
"Yes."
"Would you be able to identify those Vampires again?"
"I'm not sure." Verity's hands clenched into fists. "I barely got a chance to identify the scents before Lady Rochford caught me and dragged me away."
Rhys tensed as Verity approached Olivia, who was listening intently. "Can female Vampires smell different family scents?"
Olivia shrugged. "Humans and Vampires smell like their blood."
"And do families all smell the same?" Verity asked.
"Yes---which is why I said you smell like a Llewellyn."
Olivia walked across to where Rhys stood, put her hand on his arm, and slowly breathed him in. As she turned back to Verity her smile was meant to dazzle. "Now Rhys smells like a Williams, with just a hint of Vampire." She looked at Elias. "You have shared his blood?"
"Aye." Elias nodded.
"Knowingly?"
"Yes," said Rhys. "And now that we have established that Vampire and Druid females do not share the same abilities, can we get back to discussing the danger the queen faces? If she is being preyed upon by more than one Vampire, Verity is not going to be able to deal with this alone."
"Why not?" said Olivia. "Can't she fight off three Vampires? Her cousin Rosalind would have considered that good odds."
"Olivia---" Before Rhys could continue, Verity held up her hand and came to stand right in front of Olivia.
"I know that I'm not as skilled a fighter as Rosalind, and that I need help, but if that help isn't offered sincerely, I'd rather it wasn't offered at all."
Olivia glanced at Rhys and Elias and then sat back down. "I will behave myself and be helpful."
Rhys let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Can we continue?" Everyone nodded. "If we are dealing with three possible Vampires, why would they need to use a secret passage to access the queen's chamber? Why wouldn't they just appear inside it?"
Verity stopped pacing. "I hadn't thought of that. But I can't even be sure that they did come through the passageway. I heard noises, but . . . oh, this is so frustrating."
"We can investigate the passageways," Rhys said. "There are many ways into the palace. We'll take what we know of the tunnels beneath the palace and where they emerge and see if we can work out exactly how to get to the queen's bedchamber. I know there is a secret room within the king's chambers. We used it to trap the Spanish Vampire."
Rhys noticed Olivia wince at the reference to her grandmother, who had gone mad in defense of the first queen, Katherine of Aragon, and threatened to kill the king.
"I only wish we had a better notion about who else is involved." Rhys looked at Elias. "Could you talk to Lady Rochford and pretend you are sympathetic?"
"She is unlikely to trust me. She knows I helped turn the Council against her husband and Queen Anne."
Verity spoke. "Mayhap Olivia can befriend her."
Olivia's head came up and Elias met her suspicious gaze. "That is an excellent idea. Olivia could become one of the queen's ladies. I'm sure we could find a sponsor for her. Then we would have another pair of eyes to watch over the queen."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Rhys fought back a smile as he studied the appalled expressions on both Verity's and Olivia's faces.
"I agree, Elias. That would be a good plan. I've never seen Olivia dressed as a girl."
Verity sniffed. "She's scarcely a girl, Sir Rhys."
Olivia was already shaking her head, but Rhys kept on. "If you truly want to help, Olivia, this would be the best way to do it. But I also understand if you wish to withdraw your offer of help. The possibility of discovery is great and would probably draw the wrong sort of attention to you."
"As will helping me," said Elias. "I am losing the Council's confidence. I can sense it." He frowned. "There is a new Vampire at court whose power is far greater than mine, which I assure you is very rare and quite unacceptable. Of course the Council is enthralled by the idea of elevating such a strong talent to a position of great power."
"I sensed a strong magic last night when I was with the queen," Verity whispered. "I had to fight to hold it at bay."
Elias looked up. "Was it associated with one of the Vampires you sensed?"
"I'm not sure." Verity groaned. "I feel so useless."
Rhys patted Verity's shoulder, which drew Olivia's sharp gaze to him. "You have already proved your worth by discovering that we are dealing with a far more complex threat than we imagined. If we work together, I'm sure we can save the queen and her child."
"Well, I have no intention of letting this newcomer take over my position," said Elias. "And if I can save the queen at the same time, I'm willing to risk it."
Olivia sighed. "I'll do what you ask and try to ingratiate myself with Lady Rochford."
"And I'll search the passageways until I find the entrance into the queen's chambers." Rhys looked at Verity, who was still frowning. "What is it, my lady?"
"What am I supposed to do?"
"You are going to continue to stay up at night and guard the queen. If the Vampires know you are there, it might give them pause and allow us to find a way to get in there and defeat them."
Verity yawned behind her hand. "I'll do my best."
Rhys smiled at her. He didn't think she yet realized quite how precarious her position was. Now that Lady Rochford knew for certain that Verity was protecting the queen and was onto them, the Vampires would want to be rid of her. It was his job to ensure that didn't happen, whether she wanted his protection or not.
"Sir Rhys? May I speak with you?"
Rhys walked across to Elias, who had withdrawn from the ladies, as if what he had to say was private.
As Rhys moved away, Verity found herself facing Olivia. The Vampire was a fascinating mixture of naiveté and strength. Her interest in Rhys was so blazingly obvious that Verity felt almost sorry for her. She had learned the folly of showing her feelings so blatantly and had suffered the consequences.
Olivia stood up and faced Verity. "Why are you staring at me?"
"I was just wondering how old you are."
"A mere babe in Vampire terms. I'm only a quarter of a century old."
"Then we are of a similar age."
"Yet you will die long before me." Olivia's smile was a challenge. "Tell me, my lady, why does your blood smell like Vampire?"
"I have no idea what you mean."
"You have Elias Warner's blood in you."
"And what is that to you?"
"I'm just curious, as no one had mentioned it." Her blue eyes narrowed with speculation. "Does Rhys even know?"
Verity kept her lips firmly closed.
Olivia continued to circle her. "So, you don't like me any more than your cousin did."
"You met Rosalind?"
"Of course I did. She was always fighting with my half brother. I could never understand why he chose her when he could've chosen his Vampire family instead."
Olivia sounded puzzled rather than angry. Verity wondered how her life must've been. Did Vampires actually care for their children or did they leave them to fend for themselves?
"My family cannot understand why Rosalind chose your brother either. She has been disowned by our grandfather and we are not allowed to speak her name in his presence."
Olivia looked indignant. "But she and Christopher are in love."
"And that counts for nothing to my grandfather. In his eyes, his most favored grandchild married his deadliest enemy and he will never forgive her."
"And you? Do you believe in love?"
Verity smiled. "I'm not sure anymore."
"I do." Olivia's gaze strayed toward Rhys and she blushed. "I suppose you think I'm a fool."
"I don't think that," Verity said softly. "I've just learned that sometimes love, or thinking you are in love, is not enough to carry you through the hardships of life." She found herself looking at Rhys as well.
"I don't need your advice, Vampire slayer."
Verity held Olivia's defiant gaze. "I wasn't offering any. Rhys is quite capable of making up his own mind as to whom he loves."
"You might not be as skilled as your cousin, but you are equally foolish." Olivia allowed her fangs to show. "I could rip out your throat before you had time to draw your puny silver dagger!"
"Careful, Olivia---if you destroy me, Rhys will always see you as a monster!"
Pain radiated through Olivia's eyes and she disappeared, leaving Verity feeling ashamed of herself. She had no right to judge Olivia for loving Rhys. It wasn't as if she had a claim on him herself . . . even if each time she saw him she felt her body yearn toward him.
Rhys looked up as if he had felt the weight of her gaze and beckoned her over. She made her way to him, aware that Elias had also left and that they were alone. He smiled and held out his hand.
"Did Olivia leave as well?"
"She did."
"She can be a little abrupt sometimes."
"I noticed that."
Rhys squeezed her hand. "She is young and impulsive, very much like her half brother."
"You don't need to make excuses for her, Rhys. She isn't a child. In truth, she is almost the same age as I am."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Because it is easier for you to see her as a child who has a silly infatuation with you than as a woman who wants more?"
He tilted her chin. "Did she suggest there was something between us?"
Verity forced a smile. "She didn't need to. Her desire for you was obvious."
He met her gaze, his hazel eyes clear. "I do not want her in that way."
"Because she is a Vampire?"
He looked offended. "It isn't that. I have learned, to my cost, that not all Vampires are evil."
"Then if you don't see her as evil, why don't you want her? Because she isn't Rosalind, of course. What a dim-witted question."
His fingers locked around her wrist and he pulled her back hard against him. "I can no more have Rosalind than Olivia can have me."
"So you'll settle for what's left?"
"You should value yourself more highly, my lady." He bent to snatch a kiss and she bit his lip. He cursed and drew back. "What was that for?"
"I'm not your consolation prize, Rhys Williams. I know no one will ever match the perfection of your first love. Is that why you never come home to Wales?"
He let go of her and turned away toward the shadows cast by the last remaining wall of the ruin. "I haven't been home for many reasons."
"Such as?"
He gazed down at the broken mosaic tiles that still formed the faded outline of a large blue fish. "Such as my stepfather."
"But your mother married Owain Thomas when you were just a child."
"Aye, she did."
Verity frowned. "Was he unkind to you?"
Rhys still wouldn't look at her. "He . . . would have preferred it if my mother had come to him without a redheaded child in tow. He was a superstitious man." He briefly touched his auburn hair. "I was blamed for every misfortune from the butter not setting to the fire going out."
"Those things were hardly your fault."
"I know that, but if I tried to defend myself I was beaten. He would not tolerate the slightest hint of my 'devil's temper.'" He hesitated. "Verily, I think he enjoyed provoking me to prove his point. It was obvious from the start that I wouldn't be tolerated in his house for long."
"Did your mother know?"
"My mother was soon busy with her new children. I think I reminded her too much of what she had lost. When I was seven I was taken to the manor house to board with Sir John Llewellyn and learn my father's trade. I was much happier there."
"Of course. I remember your arrival well."
He finally looked up at her, one hand braced on the crumbling brick wall. "For the first time in my life I had a purpose and felt wanted. And then I was given the responsibility of training Rosalind and everything changed."
Verity nodded and almost hated herself for having to ask the next question. "Yet Rosalind is now married, and you still haven't gone back home."
His mouth twisted into a grimace. "I cannot go back because if I meet with your grandfather face-to-face I won't be able to lie about seeing Rosalind. And then Sir John would take from me the only important thing left in my life---my calling as a Vampire slayer."
"Rhys . . ."
He shrugged. "It's not as if I am missed. My mother doesn't need me, and I hardly know my half siblings. The only home I ever had was Llewellyn Hall, and I cannot return there with a clear conscience."
Verity reached for him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Didn't he see that his loyalty to Rosalind held him captive still? That he'd denied himself even the possibility of a home because of his love for her? Verity suspected that if she tried to tell him her thoughts, he wouldn't believe her.
He kissed the top of her head. "There is no need to worry about me, Verity. I don't think of home anymore."
She raised her face to his. "Then what do you think about?"
"This." He kissed her lips. She let him deepen the kiss and take possession of her mouth, his desire edged with a hint of sadness that made her want to hold him close and never let him go.
When he eventually pulled away, they were both breathing hard. He traced her lower lip with the edge of his thumb. "You are beautiful, my lady."
"So are you."
"Hardly that." He kissed her again and she pressed herself against him and lost herself in the texture and pattern of his touch, and of his sheer maleness. His mouth tasted like a love potion that she couldn't stop sipping. She slid her hand down from his waist and felt the flex of his thigh muscles as he drew her close.
She moved her hand again until she was cupping his groin and he groaned into her mouth. "My lady, you unman me. Do you wish me to embarrass myself again?"
"No, I wish only to please you."
She went down onto her knees and set about the complicated task of untying the points that connected his codpiece to his hose and slid her hand inside. He murmured her name as her fingers wrapped around his already hard prick. His hand slid down to caress the back of her neck as she continued to explore his thick length. His hips thrust forward as though he couldn't help himself, but his touch on her remained gentle.
She found herself smiling in appreciation at his restraint. He could easily force her, but she knew he wouldn't, that he wanted her to know she was perfectly safe with him. Gareth had taught her how to take a man in her mouth but she'd never really enjoyed it. Now she was eager to explore. She felt bold and all-powerful. She moved her fingers up and down Rhys's shaft, enjoying the sensation of his rigid hardness, and wondered how he would taste.
"Ah, God, Verity."
She leaned forward and licked the very tip of his prick, swirled her tongue in the wetness she found awaiting her there. Rhys smelled of warm leather, of fresh grass and the musk of desire, a combination that enthralled her and made her want to swallow him up. She opened her mouth and took him deep, felt his fingers clench in her hair and then slowly relax as she started a steady, rhythmic sucking.
She liked him in her mouth, liked the way he fought the desire to take over and allowed her to set her own pace. She closed her eyes and just concentrated on the sensations, the drag of his hot, pulsing flesh against her tongue, the salty taste of his desire and the urgent thrust of his hips rocking against her.
As his balls tightened with need, Rhys unclenched his fingers in Verity's hair and tried to hold still. "Cariad, I need to . . ."
He groaned as she wrapped her arm around his hips and held him close. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it might explode along with his cock. He lost his smooth rhythm and started to thrust faster and harder. The need to climax thundered through him and he no longer knew how to be gentle.
But she wasn't asking him to be. She took every thrust and answered it with her clever mouth and fingers, drawing a higher response from him. Red and black heat seared through his closed eyelids as his seed flowed and his knees suddenly went weak.
Verity continued to hold him as he kept coming, her mouth still around him, one of her hands gently cupping his still-sensitive balls. Eventually he managed to open his eyes and look down at her. Her face rested against his thigh as she tried to set his clothing to rights.
He brushed her hand away and came down onto his knees. He took her mouth with the same directness she had taken his cock, tasted himself and the deep well of a woman's desire.
"Please . . ." she whispered against his mouth. "Touch me."
He arranged her on his lap and slid his hand beneath her thick satin skirts to find her quim, already wet and ready for him. He pressed his thumb to her swollen bud and slid two of his fingers inside her, then kissed her mouth with the same fast-driving rhythm as his thrusting fingers. She clutched at his shoulders, and he added another finger, gloried in her slick heat and the ever-tightening sensation as she suddenly took her pleasure from him.
He didn't stop but kept driving her onward, sensed that she had more to give him, more to take as he pushed her higher and higher. He caught her scream of pleasure in his mouth and gloried in the clenching of her quim around his fingers before he slowly brought her down again.
He didn't want to leave her body, her mouth. He wanted her naked under him, her glorious hair spread out on the pillow while he took his pleasure from her and gave it back tenfold. Nothing else mattered. He kissed her throat. "Ah, God . . . Rosalind . . ."
With a cry, Verity pushed away from him. For a moment he couldn't think what was wrong and then he wanted to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. She smoothed down her skirts and turned away, her hands fisted at her side.
Rhys scrambled to sit up and hurriedly adjusted his clothing. "Verity, it isn't what you think."
How could he explain to Verity that in his heart he'd been saying good-bye to his lost love while glorying in his new desire for her? She'd taken him to a level of pleasure that had left him defenseless and obviously without a coherent thought in his brain. Judging by her furious expression, he doubted she would believe him, but he had to try.
"I wasn't thinking about Rosalind in that way. I was---"
Verity held up her hand. "Spare me your excuses, Sir Rhys. It was my fault, for I know full well where your loyalty lies." Her blue eyes flashed. "And it will serve as a reminder that I should not allow myself to feel sorry for you again!" She spun on her heel and walked away.
After a stunned moment, he followed her. "What do you mean?"
"I think you know."
"You're saying that that was because you pitied me?"
She gave him a scathing glance. "Wasn't it obvious?"
He caught her elbow. "You kissed me because you wanted to."
"Are you sure about that?" She raised her eyebrows at him, whisked out of his grasp, and ran toward the queen's apartments, her long hair streaming behind her.
"Lady Verity!" Verity raised her head and found Lady Rochford bearing down upon her, a satisfied expression on her pinched face. Verity put down the tiny lace cap she was stitching and arranged her features into a calm, welcoming smile. It was just past midday, and most of the ladies were in the queen's sunny apartments engaged in various tasks connected with the queen's imminent lying-in. Even little Lady Elizabeth had been pressed into service and was busy unpicking lace from one of the queen's old gowns.
"Lady Rochford."
"I particularly wished to introduce you to a new member of the queen's court." Lady Rochford stepped to one side with an exaggerated flourish. "I'm sure you'll be delighted to welcome Lady Olivia Del Alonso."
"Del Alonso?" Verity allowed the ice in her voice to show. She didn't want Lady Rochford to suspect that she and Olivia were connected in any way. "Verily, I'm surprised the king allowed such a thing."
Olivia shot her a baleful glare. "His Majesty was most welcoming."
Verity looked Olivia up and down. The transformation from sulky, boyish youth to glorious young maiden of the court was indeed a startling one. Olivia wore a dark blue satin gown fitted over a farthingale, which was open at the front to reveal a brocaded black underskirt. As befitted a maiden, her long black hair fell loose under her hood to her waist. She was adorned in a wealth of jewels that even the queen could not possibly find fault with.
Verity ignored Olivia's remark and addressed herself to Lady Rochford. "I assumed all members of the Del Alonso family had returned to Spain."
"Lady Olivia is the ward of an Englishman and is thus very welcome at court."
"I see." Verity flashed a patently insincere smile. "I'm sure Lady Olivia will find much to occupy herself with here. We are all very busy sewing for the future king."
"I'm sure I shall fit in very well," said Olivia, and this time Verity acknowledged her with the barest of nods.
Lady Rochford bore her charge away and continued to introduce her around the room. Verity searched for her knife to cut off her sewing thread. She couldn't help but wonder what Rhys would make of Olivia now.
Verity gave up the search for her pocketknife and bit savagely through the silk instead. For herself, she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to see him again. Nor apparently did he wish to see her, for when he was with her he was clearly picturing another woman. A woman who was happily married to somebody else.
Verity selected a skein of silk and held it up to the light to make sure the color matched the fine lawn. Would she ever find a man who was intelligent enough to want her for herself? Her husband had wanted a meek, subservient wife, and Rhys . . . Rhys wanted Rosalind. Or possibly a female Vampire. Which was absurd, since he must know in his heart he could never have either one.
She stabbed her needle through the fabric and jumped as she pricked her finger. With all haste, she whisked the fine lacework bonnet to one side and observed her throbbing finger, where a bead of bright red blood now blossomed.
"Would you like me to take care of that for you?"
She turned to find that Elias had taken the seat beside her. She frowned at him. "Certainly not. Thank you."
He leaned close, his voice a soft, beguiling caress beneath the flow of female chatter. "But I do so enjoy the taste of your blood." He licked his lips. "It has an almost . . . addictive quality to it."
"Which is why you will never taste it again."
He sighed and looked around the room. "Is that Olivia Del Alonso over there?"
Verity followed his gaze. "Indeed it is."
"She looks quite different."
"Have you not seen her in women's garb before?"
"No." Elias continued to stare at Olivia. "She is quite beautiful, is she not?"
Something in Elias's tone made Verity examine him more closely. "Do you think so?"
Elias's expression went blank. "Indeed, I was just imagining what our mutual friend will make of her."
Verity felt her cheeks heat. "No doubt he will soon be throwing himself at her feet and writing poetry to yet another unattainable love."
"Are you a little jealous, my lady?"
"Of Olivia? Hardly." Verity carefully slid her needle and thread into the fabric before she stabbed herself again or, worse, plunged the needle into Elias's smirking face.
"Not of Olivia herself, then, but of the effect she might have on your fellow Druid."
"I have no interest in her effect on Rhys at all."
Elias laughed softly. "Then perhaps you should look away, as I see Sir Rhys entering the room with his trusty harp."
Rhys entered the queen's apartments and scanned the chattering throng for a glimpse of Queen Jane. He'd been asked to participate in a musical afternoon to soothe the queen's spirits and was carrying his precious harp in his arms. He placed it carefully on a nearby table and continued looking around him. Opportunities to view the much secluded queen were so limited that he had gratefully accepted the invitation. Verity efficiently reported the queen's movements, but seeing Queen Jane firsthand was far better.
"Sir Rhys?"
Rhys blinked as a vision in dark blue appeared in front of him and curtsied low.
"Don't you recognize me?"
Rhys forced his gaze upward to the woman's face and met her sparkling blue eyes. "Lady Olivia."
She pouted. "You didn't recognize me, did you?"
Rhys cleared his throat. "I---"
Another voice intruded on the conversation. "You have met Sir Rhys before, Lady Olivia?"
Rhys fought to control his befuddled expression as Lady Rochford studied him, her curiosity rampant. "Good afternoon, Lady Rochford. Yes, we have met, some years ago."
"That is true," Olivia put in, "but it was not perhaps under the best of circumstances."
Rhys glanced sharply at Olivia as she whispered something to Lady Rochford that made the other woman chuckle.
Olivia looked at him again, her eyes demurely lowered. "Our families are not exactly the best of friends, are they, Sir Rhys?"
"I'm sure we can remedy that, my lady. I'm always willing to offer the hand of friendship to anyone my family has slighted."
"I shall think on it, Sir Rhys. Old family quarrels can become quite tiresome, can't they?" Olivia held out her hand and Rhys took it and kissed her knuckles.
"My lady."
"A pleasure, sir."
Rhys turned away and met the full blast of Verity's cold stare. He headed toward her, but she got up from her seat and flounced away from him. Inwardly Rhys sighed. Before he could follow Verity, Lady Rochford clapped her hands.
"Everyone, please take your places. The music will be starting in a matter of moments."
Rhys saw several other people with musical instruments heading for the front of the room, so he found his harp and joined them. As he progressed through the crowd of courtiers he murmured polite greetings to those few people he recognized. There was still no sign of Verity and he wondered if she had already left. His spirits plummeted at the thought. He'd missed seeing her these last few nights. Her written reports had been clear but not nearly as interesting, since they lacked her warm presence.
Rhys took a stool next to another Welshman who was already busy tuning his lute. "Good afternoon, Huw."
"Good afternoon to you, Rhys. Are you ready to play for the queen?"
Rhys uncovered his harp and rested it on his knee. He stroked the familiar curve of the wood and angled the instrument until it rested on his left shoulder and over his heart, a peculiarly Welsh custom. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the strings. He listened for the truer note of a flute to tune his instrument to.
The harp had been passed down to him from his father and had been in the Williams family for generations. A carving of a mermaid graced the top of the instrument, her face almost lost to time after being touched so many times.
The oldest musician present, a balding man who played the dulcimer, rose to his feet and called for the attention of the players. Behind him, Rhys could now see the queen in the center of the room surrounded by her ladies. She wore an elaborate embroidered gown and hood that seemed almost too heavy for her frame, but at least she was smiling, her hands resting atop her rounded belly and her feet propped up on a footstool.
Rhys also saw Olivia seated on a cushion near the queen's feet. Despite her initial reluctance to participate in their scheme she seemed to have taken to her part rather well. Rather too well, thought Rhys, as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. He checked the room again for Verity and still couldn't find her.
With a start he reined in his thoughts and concentrated on what the dulcimer player was saying about the order of the songs. At the queen's request, they would play the sweetest of ballads and love songs and omit the more bawdy or warlike tunes.
After a final tune-up, they launched into "The Ballad of Thomas the Rhymer" and soon most of the court was singing along with the familiar tune. Rhys forgot about the crowd and concentrated on plucking the strings of the harp and drawing the sweetest sounds that he could from it.
Loud applause greeted the end of the song and they started another, and then another, until it was finally time for Rhys to play his solo piece. He'd thought long and hard about what song to sing, and now the woman he wanted to sing it to didn't appear to be present.
Rhys played a long, slow trickle of notes from high to low and then paused to gather himself. At the last second a flash of sunlight glinted off Verity's blond hair and he directed his gaze to her.
If Rosemary is for remembrance,Between this day and night,I'm wishing I might always haveYour presence in my sight.
And when I cannot have it,As I have said before,Then Cupid with his deadly dartDoth wound my heart full sore.
If sage is for sustenance,That should man's life sustain,For I do still lie languishingContinually in pain.
And shall do still until I die,Except thy favor show.My pain and all my gracious heart,Full well you do it know.
If violet is for faithfulness,Which in me shall abide,I hope that likewise from your heart,You will not let it slide.
And will continue in the same,As you have now begun,And then forever to abide,Then you my heart have won.
By the end of the song, his gaze was locked with Verity's and the applause of the audience and his fellow musicians took him somewhat by surprise. He looked down at his harp and realized that his neighbor, Huw, was nudging him.
"The queen is beckoning to you!"
Rhys looked up and saw that the queen was indeed signaling to him. "Your Majesty?"
"Can you sing me something else, Sir Rhys? Mayhap in your own language?"
"It would be a pleasure, Your Majesty." Rhys stroked the longest string with his thumb and allowed it to vibrate just a little. "This is a song about Taliesin the Bard, in which he recounts the wondrous adventures of his master, Elphin."
Rhys started to sing and the whole room settled down to listen. It was almost unnaturally quiet, but he continued to play and allowed the beauty of the tale and the ease of speaking his own language to soothe his nervousness.
This time the applause took longer to come, but seemed to grow and not want to stop. Rhys looked helplessly at the queen, who was smiling back at him. She gestured for him to approach.
"Thank you, Sir Rhys. I shall ask the king to come and sit with me one evening and have you play for us both."
"That would be a great honor, Your Majesty." Rhys bowed and backed away. The other musicians were busy putting their instruments away and he endured some good-natured comments about the effect of his musical prowess on the queen, but it was all said in good humor and he replied in kind.
There was an insistent tug on his sleeve and he looked down to see a small redheaded girl staring at him.
"Will you show me your harp?"
"Of course, my lady."
Rhys knelt beside the girl and held the harp out to her.
She touched the worn face of the mermaid. "This lady is pretty."
"She is indeed." Rhys waited as the girl plucked at the strings with her small fingers. "Are you learning to play any instruments?"
"I am, but I fear this harp would be too heavy for me to hold."
"You are right, but you will soon grow. It is a beautiful instrument to play."
She glanced up at him and he noticed her eyes were such a dark brown that they appeared black. "When I grow up I'm going to play everything."
The determination in her voice made him want to smile. "I'm sure you will, my lady."
She reached up, touched his hair and then her own. "You have red hair like me and my father."
"Indeed."
Her little face hardened. "My nurse says it is unlucky, but how can that be so if my father is the king?"
Rhys swallowed hard as he remembered when he'd last encountered a pair of such dark eyes. "You are Lady Elizabeth?"
She shrugged. "Once I was a princess, but now I'm not." The look she gave Rhys was wise beyond her years. "Mayhap that is why my nurse thinks my red hair is cursed."
Before Rhys could reply, the little girl turned and disappeared into the crowd. He rose slowly to his feet and carefully put his harp away. How strange to see Anne Boleyn's eyes staring out of such a typically Tudor face. He hadn't realized that the new queen had persuaded King Henry to bring both his daughters back to court.
He left his harp in Huw's care and crossed to Verity, who had remained sitting on the window seat, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze pensive. She looked up as he joined her.
"You sing beautifully." She pressed her hand to her heart. "I feel it here. It reminds me of home."
"I sang only for you, my lady."
"Not for the queen?"
He took her other hand and held it firmly. "No, for you. I am a clumsy man with words. I thought to apologize in the more forgiving language of song."
She looked down and didn't answer. At least she wasn't running away. He smiled down at her. "Please, Verity. I don't wish to be at odds with you."
She sighed. "Of course not. We must work together as allies."
Rhys stiffened. "Surely, we are more than allies, my lady."
She disengaged her hand. "Did you find out anything more about the passages beneath the palace?"
It seemed she wasn't ready to forgive him. He shoved down his disappointment and concentrated on the matter at hand. "I have acquired a map that gives me a far better idea of what lies beneath the queen's chambers. Do you want to explore the tunnels with me, tonight?"
"Before I guard the queen?"
"Aye." Rhys stood up and bowed. "I'll meet you at the chapel at nine. That should give us plenty of time."
Verity checked her dagger again and glanced around the outside of the deserted chapel. It was so quiet she could hear the hum of grasshoppers and the bullfrogs croaking in the nearby pond. There was no sign of Rhys and she was beginning to worry. She opened the door to the chapel to check the vestibule again, and became aware of a strange draft of air that made the candles flicker. She went inside, closed the door, and leaned against it, her dagger at the ready and her eyes straining to adjust to the sudden gloom. A door creaked and she spun around to face the sound.
"Is that you, cariad?"
"Rhys, where are you?"
A light flickered and she suddenly saw his face. "Come toward me and watch out for the other door."
Verity took an uncertain step forward, her hand outstretched until Rhys took her fingers firmly in his warm grasp. "Where are we going?"
"We'll make our way almost to our training room and work out a route to the queen's bedchamber from there." He squeezed her hand. "You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"
"No, thank goodness." Verity allowed him to help her down the narrow spiral steps and then she let go of his hand. "And before you ask, I'm not afraid of small spaces, mice, rats, or spiders either."
His soft chuckle soothed her. "That is good to know. Rosalind hated these tunnels. I would dislike to have a panicking female on my hands." He touched her shoulder. "Let's move on, shall we?"
Verity followed his lead, glad that for once she was braver than her illustrious cousin. But then, Rosalind had succeeded despite her fears, hadn't she? Verity sighed as the tunnel made a sharp turn to the right and then divided into two.
Rhys pointed to the left fork. "Our training room is down there. We're going to take the right tunnel, which leads back toward the palace." He paused. "There used to be some occupied Vampire coffins down here, so keep close to me, won't you?"
Verity nodded and kept going. The thought of dealing with a Vampire in such close quarters wasn't exactly appealing. She followed Rhys for what felt like miles, waited while he chose each fork in the tunnel and marked it with the Welsh letter ch.
Eventually, she grabbed his jerkin and whispered. "Rhys, I smell something."
He stopped moving and turned toward her, his voice a mere thread against her ear. "Vampire?"
"Yes, but not fresh, I think."
"We'll proceed more slowly. I believe we're quite close."
Verity inhaled again and brought her hand to her mouth. She recognized the acrid male scent from the queen's bedchamber. Below the putrid smell was the fresher scent of pansies.
"It's the same Vampires. One male and one young female."
He touched her shoulder. "We're very close to where I believe the secret panel is. If you are sure the Vampires aren't present, I'm going to light a candle."
Verity nodded and waited while Rhys struck a flint and lit the wick. He held the candle aloft and she could see the outline of a door in the rock.
"Is the queen in her bedchamber?"
"She was going to sit with the king in his private apartments. I doubt she is back yet." Verity squinted at the shadowy outline of the door. "Is there a peephole?"
"I'm not sure. I'll check." Rhys took the candle and went closer, leaving Verity bathed in shadows. "Ah, there is something here."
She went to join him and he showed her where the peephole was. She had to stand on tiptoe to see through it, but it was definitely the queen's room.
"It seems our Vampires have a way to get at the queen without having to materialize through solid walls."
Verity frowned. "But why would they need it?"
"Mayhap there are humans involved as well."
Rhys blew out the candle, plunging them into darkness once more, and Verity tried to steady her breathing. Without the light, the stench of Vampire was almost overwhelming. Or was it simply growing stronger? She grabbed Rhys's arm.
"Rhys, we need to get out of here."
He didn't bother to question her, just took her hand and started to run back the way they had come. Verity let him lead her through the twisting passageways, aware of a nameless terror creeping over her senses, suffocating her, blinding her.
She stumbled and fell to her knees, one hand grasping her throat as the menace crept inside her mind. Laughter was followed by a hint of seduction.
"Verity . . ."
There was something compelling about the voice. She tried to shut her mind to it, to block it out. With Rhys's help she picked herself up and kept running, her heart thumping, her thoughts reduced to a mindless panicked need to flee like prey.
"Verity!" She gasped and struck out as Rhys grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "It's all right. We're safe."
She gazed at him for a long moment as she struggled to understand what he was saying. His expression grew concerned and he gently shook her again. "What is it?"
She realized they were back in the chapel and breathed in the familiar scents of incense and prayer. "Something called me."
"I didn't hear anything."
"In my mind." She swallowed hard. "Something evil."
"A Vampire?" His grip tightened on her shoulders.
"I'm not sure! Whatever it was, it knew my name and for a moment I wanted to turn back and . . . That's why I stumbled."
Rhys held her gaze. "Think carefully. Are you sure this thing called you by name?"
She nodded and felt her stomach heave. Black spots swirled before her eyes. Rhys maneuvered her against the chapel wall. "Don't swoon, my lady. This is important."
"I know that." She glared at him. "It was the male, the one who smells like death." That was the smell; having experienced it in her mind, she would never forget it. "He wanted me to know that he was aware of me."
"Did he say anything else?"
"No, he just said my name as if I amused him greatly." She shuddered and Rhys cupped her chin in his hand.
"Do you know how to protect your thoughts from Vampires?"
"Of course I do. Even I learned how to do that."
His thumb caressed her jawbone. "Then you'll understand when I tell you that you need to erect even stronger barriers. You cannot allow this creature to control your thoughts."
She jerked her head away from his touch. "I thought my barriers were quite effective. This is the first Vampire I have ever sensed in my mind---apart from Elias Warner, of course, but that was different, because . . ."
She stopped talking, aware that Rhys's expression had gone cold.
"You can sense Elias Warner in your mind?"
"Sometimes."
"You shared your blood with him, didn't you?" Rhys spun away from her and paced the small space, one hand on the hilt of his sword. "You're a Llewellyn---a Llewellyn with the mark of Awen---and you shared your blood with a master Vampire?"
"You shared your blood with him."
"That meant nothing! How could you have been so . . ."
"Stupid?" Verity straightened up and glared at him.
He set his jaw. "I did not say that. But you are a Llewellyn. You know that our laws forbid the mingling of our blood with a Vampire's."
Verity raised her chin. "As Rosalind did?"
Rhys scowled at her. "We are not talking about Rosalind; we are talking about you."
Verity started for the door. "I intended to tell you about Elias."
Rhys followed her out into the night. "When?"
"When I was ready."
"And when would that have been?" He shoved a hand through his hair. "By all the saints, Verity, you cannot wander around making rash decisions without consulting me."
The fear and anger inside her coalesced and she rounded on Rhys. "I am not a child," she snapped. "I am entitled to make my own choices."
He held up his hands. "Aye, if you truly understand the consequences of your actions."
"What are you suggesting?"
Rhys glanced around the deserted path and lowered his voice. "Letting one Vampire take your blood can open your mind to all the Vampires in a particular family."
"Are you saying that this 'thing' in my mind might be connected to Elias?" Verity's anger drained away as quickly as it had arisen. She started to shiver and wrapped her arms around herself. "Oh God."
Rhys exhaled and moved toward her. "Verity, I didn't mean to frighten you."
"Yes, you did." She stepped back from him. "Perhaps we should call Elias and ask him."
Even before the thought had fully formed there was a shimmer in the night air and Elias appeared. He frowned at them both.
"What on earth is going on? What hellish creature have you conjured up?"
Rhys regarded him steadily. "You felt it too, then?" Elias flicked a glance at Verity and Rhys carried on. "I know that you took my lady's blood, and now we are suffering the consequences."
"Yes, I felt the Vampire." He glared at them. "It disturbed me so much I had to stop feeding."
Verity could still smell the fresh blood on him and it made her want to retch. "Do you know this male?"
Elias turned to her. "I do not. But I assume he is the powerful new Vampire the Council has been whispering about."
"But isn't he of your family?"
Elias raised his eyebrows. "Whatever made you think that?"
"How else would I sense him?"
He frowned. "I know not, but I haven't any family."
"Perhaps someone you turned, then?" Rhys asked.
"Someone who has become more powerful than his creator? It is not likely." His thoughtful expression hardened. "There is another matter we must discuss, Lady Verity, which might also explain why we appear to be so closely linked. You did not tell me that you bear the mark of Awen."
Rhys stepped in front of Verity. "Almost no one knows that Verity bears the mark of Awen. How in God's name did the Vampires find out?"
"I'm not sure, but it seems to be common knowledge in the Vampire community." Elias frowned at Verity. "I only wish you had told me before I agreed to take your blood."
"Why are you complaining, Vampire?" Rhys asked. "Surely she has just added to your power?"
"There are all sorts of power, Sir Rhys, and the repercussions of joining my blood with Lady Verity's might be more than even I seek."
"What are you suggesting?" Rhys asked.
"All I know is that Lady Verity is no longer considered harmless and that the new Vampire is very interested in her." Elias bowed toward Verity "You should expect to be challenged more forcefully very soon."
Elias vanished and Verity brought her hand to her mouth. She couldn't bear to look at Rhys lest he remind her of the foolishness of her actions. If they failed to save the queen it would be all her fault. She turned away and started walking toward the queen's apartments.
"Verity, wait . . ."
She heard Rhys's soft voice, but she didn't stop and for once he didn't follow her. And why should he? He was probably ruing the day she had blundered back into his life and wishing anew for the return of the far more competent Rosalind.
Verity could hardly bear to open her eyes and acknowledge the cheerful sunlight streaming through the small window above her bed. She huddled back under the covers and groaned. Her dreams had been plagued by the malevolent presence of the Vampire who smelled of death. She'd also woken up several times thinking of what she might have done by joining her blood with Elias.
She stared up at the ceiling. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she was not fit to call herself a Llewellyn, let alone a Vampire slayer. But could she go home and leave the queen unprotected from the malevolence that surrounded her? Verity shivered. She couldn't leave. Too many people were depending on her. She might not be Rosalind, but she was the best hope the Druids had of defeating the Vampire and saving the queen.
Another thought wormed its way into her head. If she went home, would Rhys feel obligated to accompany her or would he stay at court and do his best to mitigate the damage of her loss? He didn't want to go home and face Sir John---but then she didn't particularly want to do that either. Her grandfather hadn't sanctioned her removal to court and had probably already written to her ordering her home. She traced the mark of Awen on her wrist. If she told him that she bore the sacred mark, would he let her stay? Would he even have a choice?
A knock on the door had Verity sitting up. "Come in."
Olivia poked her head around the door, her expression disgruntled. "Can you help me with this gown? I cannot attach the sleeves properly."
Verity beckoned Olivia inside and closed the door behind her. "You should not be asking me to help you. We are supposed to be enemies."
Olivia threw her a sideways glance. "We are enemies."
"Who are working together for the good of the queen and her unborn child." Verity studied the knot of laces at Olivia's shoulder. "What did you do to this sleeve?"
"I don't know." Olivia hunched her shoulder. "I hate women's garb. It is so constricting."
"It certainly can be." Verity set about untangling the ties.
Olivia smirked. "But it also has its uses."
"What do you mean?"
"Sir Rhys was very taken by my appearance yesterday."
"Rhys was?" Verity forced a smile. "I didn't notice." She finally attached the undersleeve and arranged the folds of the gown over it. "There, now your sleeve is straight. Do you need me to look at the other one?"
"Rhys said you were a widow."
"I am."
"You seem too young to have been married."
Verity raised her eyebrows. "Most girls marry young---you know that."
"Not Vampires." Olivia shook her head. "Imagine being tied to a man that you dislike for five hundred years or more."
As she moved behind Olivia, Verity fought a smile. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Why have you not remarried?"
Verity kept her gaze on Olivia's embroidered black sleeve. "I will only remarry for love."
"Oh." Olivia pulled up the oversleeve of her gown to allow Verity to check the ties under it. "What about Rhys?"
"What about him?"
Olivia turned her head until she could meet Verity's gaze. "Do you not love him?"
Verity's fingers stilled. "I have known him almost my entire life, so of course he holds a very special place in my heart." That at least was the truth---a truth that she might have to cling to for solace after Rhys walked away from her again in his pursuit of the unattainable.
Afraid that Olivia, in her usual direct fashion, would start asking more questions, Verity patted her sleeve. "All is secured now. You need not fear anything will fall off."
"Thank you, Verity."
"Now you must leave, and remember, we are not friends and you should not be seen with me."
"I'll try to remember." Olivia hesitated. "Lady Rochford worries me. I suspect she is not quite sane."
Verity glanced sharply at Olivia. "I agree. Have you told Elias and Rhys?"
"Should I?"
"Of course you should. If Lady Rochford is mad, we need to keep a close eye on her. Goodness knows what she could do to the queen."
Olivia nodded. "I'll go and tell Elias right away." She paused with her hand on the door. "Are you supposed to be guarding the queen tonight?"
"I should imagine so." Verity smothered a yawn. "It is the feast of Lughnasadh and I was hoping to celebrate it. But I doubt I will be able to keep my eyes open if I have to stay up half the night with the queen."
"Then you will be pleased to hear that Queen Jane intends to spend the night with the king." Olivia smiled. "I heard the news just before I had to come upstairs and attend to my sleeve. All the queen's ladies are delighted because they will have some time to themselves for a change."
Olivia bobbed a curtsy and left the room, leaving Verity in a state of indecision. If the queen was indeed going to stay with the king, mayhap she would get a chance to celebrate the festival with her people. She imagined the freedom of dancing under the moonlight, her hair loose, her movements unrestrained by the heavy garments a woman had to wear for modesty's sake.
Verity surveyed the beautifully embroidered apple blossom on her underskirt and put it on over her petticoats. It would be good to celebrate. At least at the festival she could be herself and thrust aside the burdens of being an inadequate Vampire slayer and a woman who cared far too much for a man who would never really notice her.
Rhys frowned at Elias. "Are you sure about this?"
"Almost certain. It seems Lord Thomas Seymour is not a true Vampire but a Vampire's servant."
"What does that mean?"
Although they were sitting by themselves in a quiet part of the king's public apartments, Elias lowered his voice. "In rare cases, an extremely powerful Vampire can form a blood bond with a chosen human, who then becomes a kind of extension of the Vampire, sharing his thoughts."
"As Anne Boleyn did with George?"
"Yes, before she turned him into a full Vampire. In this case, as I understand it, Lord Thomas Seymour has agreed to the bond."
"Why would he do that?"
Elias shrugged. "Power, of course."
"What kind of power?"
"The ability to use Vampire mind tricks on other humans and even to draw their blood from them."
Rhys nodded. "As Christopher did to defeat Sir Marcus Flavian."
"He told you about that?" Elias's smile was chilling. "Yes, with Olivia's help they bled the human to death."
Rhys inwardly shuddered at the mental image. "Should I assume that the Vampire who has allied himself with Lord Thomas Seymour is the same one Verity has felt in her mind?"
"Yes, I believe it is the same Vampire. He calls himself Janus, although I doubt that is his real name. Styling himself after a two-faced Roman god does seem somewhat fitting."
"Then we are in a fix."
"Aren't we always?" Elias looked up and over Rhys's shoulder. "I see Lady Verity approaching. Would you be so good as to share my news with her?"
"I will. And you will continue to investigate this Vampire?"
Elias's face lost its humanity and displayed the cold predator beneath. "Rest assured I shall. No Vampire I created must grow beyond my keeping."
Elias strolled away and Rhys readied himself for Verity's approach. He still had no idea how the Vampire community knew she had the mark of Awen when the vast majority of the Druids did not.
"Lady Verity." He bowed and took her hand. "Are you well this fine morning?"
She avoided his gaze and her smile was faint. "I'm quite well, Sir Rhys. Did you wish to talk to me?"
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her farther along the walkway and away from the chattering courtiers. She was looking remarkably beautiful this morning. He realized just how much he'd begun to look forward to seeing her and how much she brightened his mood. He patted her fingers. "Are you still distressed about the mark of Awen?"
"I'm not distressed. I have to accept it for what it is."
He glanced down at her. "I was thinking more about the fact that the Vampire community knows about it. Do you think it is time to tell your grandsire?"
She glanced up at him, her blue eyes steady. "Mayhap. Indeed, I thought to go home today."
Rhys stopped moving as if he had slammed into a wall. "Go home?"
She bit her lip and walked away from him. "My skills are not strong enough to be needed here."
"That isn't true." Rhys strengthened his voice. "I need you to stay here."
"Why? You have told me many times that I lack the ability to be a slayer."
He met her gaze and felt ashamed of himself. "I was wrong. You are more than capable. I should not have compared you to Rosalind."
Verity laughed mirthlessly. "I have been compared to Rosalind my whole life, and I've always been found wanting."
He knew how that felt, never to be good enough, always to be seeking approval that never came. He took a deep breath. "Verity, I do not find you wanting. Please stay. I want you to stay."
"Why?"
He stared at her. What was it about women that made them want to drag a man down into the murky depths of emotion and say how they feel?
"Because you are a Llewellyn. A true Vampire slayer."
She raised her eyebrows. "Is that all?"
"No, I . . ." He paused to gather his scattered thoughts. "I would miss you."
She sniffed. "About as much as you'd miss your horse."
"Far more than that. You are beautiful, and courageous, and honest to a fault."
"And stupid---let's not forget that."
He bowed his head and stared at her delicate slippered feet. "I do not know what you want me to say."
She didn't answer, so he had to look up at her. He slipped into Welsh. "All I know is that if you leave me now, I will feel your loss in my heart for the rest of my life." He slammed his fist against his chest. "And I am tired of losing those I care about, Verity. Please stay and give me a chance to put things right between us."
She studied him for a long moment and then smiled. "All right. I didn't truly wish to go."
"You didn't? Then . . . why?" He caught her hand and dragged her up against his chest, eased his fingers under her chin so that he could see her face. "Then why put me through all this?"
"Perhaps I just wished to hear you say that you needed me."
He bent his head and kissed her until she kissed him back. "Oh, I need you, my lady." He kissed her again until she was panting. "Do you like to hear a man beg?"
"You haven't begged, yet." She pushed at his chest and, aware that others might be watching, he reluctantly let her go. "The queen is spending the night with the king, and Elias has agreed to watch over them both. I doubt our Vampires will want to meet the king."
"So?"
She swept him a deep curtsy. "I am going to celebrate Lughnasadh. Mayhap I will see you there." She walked back toward the safety of the crowds, leaving him standing alone.
How could he have forgotten it was the first of August? He'd been so angry with his gods for allowing Christopher to claim Rosalind at Beltane that he'd avoided most of the Druid rituals ever since. Lughnasadh was a celebration of the first harvest, a time to give thanks for the abundance of nature. It was a quieter night than Beltane or Samhain, but Rhys had always enjoyed it.
He pictured Verity dancing around the fire and his whole body reacted with a primitive yearning to share the ritual with her. For Rosalind's sake he'd willingly cut himself off from so much, but he carried the pain of that separation deep inside him. He stared after Verity and considered the promise of her words. Mayhap he should return to his religion and find some solace and comfort there.
Verity wrapped her cloak around her body and made her way through the chattering crowds to the altar that had been set up between the pair of standing stones. A ritual circle had been drawn in thick white chalk around the peaceful glade and bread and cider had been placed at several points of the sphere to signify the plenty of the harvest. She bowed low to the two priests dressed in white robes and then placed on the altar a handful of blackberries and wildflowers she had picked on her way through the fields.
"Within your circle I offer my gift to you."
One of the priests bowed. "And may the gods grant your wishes true."
Verity bowed again and backed away. What did she wish for? She glanced up at the full moon. She wanted to be loved, but didn't everyone? Did that even count as a wish? She directed her attention toward another point in the circle where two large goblets of mead sat on a flat stone low to the ground.
Both goblets contained special herbs to ensure that any Druid who wished to participate in the night's revelries would enjoy the experience. The goblet on the right also contained a fertility potion; the one on the left, a potion to prevent conception. At Lughnasadh it was common practice to offer both, unlike the fertility celebration at Beltane, which was far more lascivious.
Verity considered the goblets. She did not want a child, but did she want to join in the festivities and lose herself in a night of lust? Since her first Beltane experience she'd abstained from all the physical aspects of the festivals. If Rhys came to worship at the fire tonight, would she welcome him?
She clutched her cloak more tightly around herself. She'd lived with her fear for so long it had almost become part of her. But surely things were different now. Hadn't she finally broken with her past and set out on the path to becoming the woman and Vampire slayer she had always wanted to be? She deserved a reward. She deserved to have Rhys---in a union sanctioned by their gods and understood by them both to be for only one night. If she chose him, would he give her that night? Verity took a deep breath and reached for the goblet on the left.
Rhys walked through the stubble of the wheat field and followed the sounds of the drums and the sweet scent of herbs down to the hidden glade where his people were celebrating Lughnasadh. He'd stayed long enough at the palace to be sure that Queen Jane had indeed gone to spend the night with the king and Elias and Olivia were watching over them.
When he entered the sacred oak grove, his heart sped up and echoed the driving tempo of the drums. As he walked around the white chalk circle and felt the heated blast from the fire, magic stirred beneath his feet. He paused at the stone altar to offer a gift of gold to the priests and was rewarded for his contribution with a goblet of sweet honeyed mead, which he downed in one swallow.
The mellow taste of honey and herbs slid down his throat and threaded quickly through his body, warming his already aroused and wanting senses. He prowled the perimeter of the circle, his gaze fixed on the female dancers. To his disappointment he couldn't see Verity among them. Anxiety edged his anticipation and he continued to scan the grove. Had she found someone else to share her evening with? The mere thought of her kissing another man made him uneasy. But he had no right to feel like that. He stared into the flames, wanting her and yet fearing that her power over him was both contrary and cruel. And she hadn't promised him anything. In truth she'd just told him she was going to the festival. Mayhap she had given up on him entirely and had decided to find another man.
Rhys turned away from the flames and back toward the musicians. He wished he'd brought his harp. At least then he could have joined in the music making and felt a part of the celebration. How was it that he felt so alone even among his own people? Had he become so caught up in tracking and killing Vampires that he'd forgotten how to be human?
When someone grabbed his arm, he jumped and almost reached for his nonexistent dagger. Weapons weren't allowed at the festivals, which didn't sit well with him. He turned to find a beautiful dark-haired woman staggering against him. Instinctively his arms went around her, and she pressed her scantily clad form against his chest.
"Oh thank you, sir," she gasped. "I thought I might fall."
He looked into her eyes and saw that the pupils were enormous. She was clearly under the influence of the herbs. He tried to set her away from him, but she clung like bindweed, her ample breasts and hard nipples pressing against the linen of his shirt. She reached up to touch his face and he didn't stop her.
"You are handsome, sir," she whispered. "I would gladly dance for you alone all night."
He disengaged her clinging hands from his shoulders and stepped back. "That is a very generous offer, my lady, but I must decline."
She pouted and brushed her hand down over the front of his hose. "Are you sure? You seem quite eager to me."
He smiled then, and took another two steps back. "Alack, I have another lady in mind."
"And she won't share?"
Unbidden, a most salacious image formed in Rhys's mind and his mouth went dry. Whatever had been in the mead had already affected his senses. He managed to shake his head and the woman blew him a kiss and turned back to the dance.
Rhys raised a trembling hand to his lips. Mayhap this hadn't been such a good idea after all. He should take his thwarted lust and go back to bed.
Verity watched from the shadows as Rhys held the dark-haired woman in his arms and fought a most unladylike urge to rush at the woman and pull her hair before she slapped Rhys's face. Rhys was dressed in a simple linen shirt that was open at the throat and a pair of soft leather hose that clung to his muscled thighs. His hair glinted like cinders in a burning fire and he was smiling.
She waited, her fingers digging into her palms, until Rhys disengaged himself from the woman and sent her on her way.
Her breath hissed out with relief. She wanted him. There was no use pretending otherwise. Her whole body ached for his touch. Surely it was time to vanquish the ghosts of her past and share herself with someone she truly desired for the first time in her life?
Verity took a stumbling step toward Rhys, but he seemed to be staring blindly into the fire. As she passed, she made sure to brush against him. He started and looked down at her. She smiled and let her cloak slip from her shoulders.
His hazel eyes widened as she was revealed in her thinnest shift. "Verity."
He held out his hand, but she kept moving until she was within the sacred circle of the dance. The music called to her and she closed her eyes and began to sway to the ancient rhythm. She felt the swath of her long unbound hair slide against her back like a sheaf of silken corn and enjoyed the raging heat of the fire on her skin. Gloriously free, she raised her arms to the heavens and let the music flow through her.
The tempo grew faster, and she was no longer aware of the watchers or of the musicians, only of the power coursing through her, connecting her to the earth and her gods. Power that made her yearn to leap out of her skin and just be . . .
A shadow obscured her vision and her body slammed into a hard, unyielding object.
"Verity . . ."
She lifted her head and Rhys's face swam into view, his gaze fierce and primitive, his strong arms caging her. She licked her lips and then his, heard him groan as he thrust his hand into her hair and kissed her back. She kept moving against him, the sway of her hips meeting his, her soft belly undulating against the hardness of his arousal.
Desire flowed through her and she pushed on his chest, driving him out of the light, and the circle, and into the shadows of the stones. He yielded to her, his mouth still welded to hers, his hands hard and possessive as they roamed her body.
She used all her strength to push him backward until he slid down one of the upright stones and sat gazing up at her. She followed him down and ended up on her knees between his bent thighs. With a sigh, she lowered her head and kissed the heavy bulge in his hose, tasted the soft leather and the hint of his arousal. His hand fisted in her hair and she laughed, making him arch against her as though he sought the delights of her mouth.
With greedy hands she released him from his clothing and cupped his tight balls in the palm of her hand. His breath hissed out as she licked a dainty path from the root of his shaft to the top and then circled the already wet and thrusting crown with the tip of her tongue.
"Ah . . ." His soft groan and the kick of his shaft against her tongue was enough to embolden her further. She sucked him into her mouth and his hand relaxed to cradle her skull while his thumb smoothed an unsteady path around her ear.
His scent engulfed her senses and she breathed him in, took him even deeper until he was groaning with each steady stroke. She grabbed his left hand and guided it to her breast, moaned around his shaft as he plucked at her nipple, drawing it as taut as his quivering shaft and making it just as needy.
He palmed her buttocks and urged her closer. His clever fingers slid lower to play with her already wet and wanting quim, drawing from her what she drew from him, an endless stream of pleasure.
With a gasp she released his shaft and sat back on her heels. He made a rough sound of denial and reached for her. Verity tugged at his shirt and he pulled it over his head, leaving her staring at his muscled chest.
She placed her hand over his heated skin and felt the rapid beating of his heart. "I want you, Rhys."
"Then take what you want."
Verity knelt and positioned herself over his lap. He bit down hard on his lip as his cock brushed her inner thigh and then he wrapped his hand around the base.
"Take it."
Verity slowly lowered herself on him, letting her weight and their wetness do their work. She couldn't help but watch as he breached her. With a ragged sigh he let go of his cock and placed his hand on her hip.
Verity took a deep, steadying breath as she finally sank down fully over him. The heat from his shaft throbbed inside her, making her pulse with need in return. She felt so full she didn't want to move ever again. She slowly raised her head and found him gazing at her. His hazel eyes reflected the dancing flames and his luscious mouth was a mixture of hard and soft that she yearned to touch.
She kissed him gently on the lips and used her tongue to outline his mouth. His hand moved to her shoulder, but she ignored the weight of it and concentrated on learning his mouth, what he liked, what he loved, and what made his shaft kick and swell within her like an untamed horse. Instinctively she squeezed back and swallowed a gasp of pleasure as tremors of delight radiated through her quim.
"Ah, duw, do that again." Rhys groaned.
Verity complied, enjoying the sensation of her hips rocking into the motion while she locked her mouth with his and felt his rising desire. Soon it wasn't enough and she had to move on him harder, rising and falling. His hands grasped her hips and his mouth locked on hers until the wet slam and glide of her body made him release his seed and sent her into a spasm of pleasure.
The sound of the drums reverberated in her ears and she became aware of people dancing and coupling around them. She didn't want to raise her head and look at Rhys. She wanted to stay where she was until he grew hard inside her and she could satisfy her desire for him once more.
One of his hands smoothed her hair in an endless caress and the other comfortably cupped her buttocks. Her face was pressed into the crook of his shoulder and she could hear his steady breathing. She felt nothing like her anxious younger self. She was a woman now, and this time her choice felt right.
Rhys opened his eyes and stared out over the darkened glade. The fire had died down, but people were still dancing and the scents of mulled wine and baked festival meats hung in the air. Verity shifted in his arms and he fought an impulse to tighten his grip and keep her pressed against him. He hadn't felt so alive in years. Or so complete.
She stirred again and this time he reluctantly let her push against his chest and sit up. Her thin shift clung to her body, wet from his mouth, their shared heat, and their passion. He wanted to put his mouth on her breast and use his tongue and teeth on her nipples . . .
She moved off him and his cock slid free of her body, the sudden coldness making him wince. She stood and her glorious golden hair swung forward, shielding her face and her body. Her hands were no longer touching him but smoothing down her rumpled shift. She half turned away and he tensed. Would she leave him like this? Still aroused and wanting her so badly he ached?
She held out her hand like a queen. "Dance with me."
He struggled to his feet, his hose still unfastened and his shirt forgotten.
He took her hand. "I'm no good at dancing."
She smiled and led him into the circle, her slender body swaying to the drums and pipes. He could do nothing but follow her, place his hands on her hips and allow his body to share her pleasure in yet another way. After a while she laughed up at him and then twirled away between the dancers.
He followed where she led him, sometimes catching her long enough to kiss or touch her, sometimes not, until his blood was on fire and all his hunting instincts roared at him to capture her and hold on.
She darted behind the altar and through the line of standing stones, her laughter urging him on, his body on fire for her. He waited until she hid behind one of the stones and then doubled back and came at her from behind. She shrieked as he caught her arm and wound his fist in her hair to reel her in.
The laughter in her eyes turned to passion when he backed her against the stones and brought his mouth down to ravage hers. It was his turn to take and plunder and possess, hers to let him, to sigh and gasp as he lifted her over his desperate prick and pounded into her. Her feet settled over his buttocks, her heels digging in and urging him onward. He needed no urging; the roar of his blood demanded he take his prize and fill her with his seed.
Her fingernails dug into his bare skin and she tightened around his prick and took her pleasure. He resisted the urge to join her, but pushed her on, climbing to another level of need and then another, until he could no longer do anything but thrust into her and breathe through the most shattering climax of his life.
When he finally stopped shuddering and shaking, he lowered her to the ground and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against him as if her body had been made for him, and they were still joined. He shook his head to try to recover himself, but it seemed impossible. His mind was full of only her and he felt free.
Verity stroked his damp hair, the caress so gentle that he wanted to bury his face in her shoulder and weep.
"Hwyl," he murmured.
"Home?" She touched his cheek. "You want to go home? Or are you saying good-bye to me?"
He stared at her stupidly for a long moment. Did she not understand him? Hwyl meant so much more than just a home; it meant a homecoming. It meant that he'd found his soul, his heart, his place of rest in her.
Didn't she feel the same?
Verity took his hand. "Let's go back to the palace, then. It's the closest thing to a home either of us has at the moment."
He let her lead him back toward the fire, where she managed to find both her cloak and his shirt. He numbly straightened his clothing and watched her wrap her luscious body in the cloak, fiercely glad that no other man would see how beautiful she was.
How could she remain so calm when his whole world had changed? Doubt seared through his mind. He'd finally found what he wanted in a woman. What if he wasn't the man that Verity wanted in return?
Verity glanced up at Rhys as they walked back through the newly harvested fields. He'd been very quiet since their coupling and she was beginning to worry. Her body still throbbed with the pleasure he'd given her. But had his desire been nothing but the madness of Lughnasadh? Had she pleased him or had his thoughts drifted back to the incomparable Rosalind?
They approached the corner of the old stone barn that edged the more formal grounds of Richmond Palace. The barn doors were open, displaying the richness of the year's harvest. Bushels of wheat and barley stood stacked in neat rows ready for threshing and piles of empty sacks were ready to be filled with grain.
As they passed the open doorway, Rhys bent down to pick up a heavily laden stalk of wheat. "Whenever I see a field of wheat, my lady, I think of you."
Verity slowed her step to look at him. He sounded hoarse and almost unlike himself.
He rippled her hair and it shone in the moonlight. "Your hair is gilded just like the grain."
She found herself turning into his arms and he kissed her so sweetly she wanted him never to stop.
He groaned. "I want you again. I want to lay you down in the hay and swive you until I fall asleep still buried deep inside you."
Her doubts disappeared and were replaced by a growing sense of gladness. "Do you think I would object?" she whispered.
He kissed her and she relaxed against him, her body softening in anticipation of his possession.
"You will be aching tomorrow," he murmured as his hand curved around her buttocks and he lifted her against his already hard shaft.
"No worse than you will be." She undulated her hips and he hissed a curse. Before she could enjoy her small victory, he hoisted her into his arms and set off for the musty interior of the barn. He released her only when they reached the bottom of the ladder.
"Up with you, then." He patted her buttocks as she started to climb the rickety ladder to the hayloft. Moonlight bathed the smaller space in silver shadows and Verity breathed in the scent of fresh hay. Rhys removed her cloak and she shivered.
"Are you cold, cariad?" He kissed her shoulder. "Give me but a moment to fashion us a bed and I will warm you."
She turned to watch him gather the hay and drape her cloak over the pile. He stripped off his shirt and hose and for the first time she was able to see him fully. She couldn't help but walk over and put her hands on his muscled flanks, touching the many scars that covered his skin and yearning to kiss each one.
He caressed her in return and removed her torn shift, his gaze lingering on her breasts and the juncture of her thighs. He sighed as he thrust both hands into her hair and rested his forehead against hers.
"Lie with me, cariad?" he whispered. "I am sore in need of you."
Verity sank to her knees and he followed her, his arms wrapped around her and his mouth nibbling at her ear. She opened her legs for him without a thought and he settled between her thighs with a deep growl of satisfaction.
"You honor me, my lady."
She touched his cheek and felt the beginnings of his beard scrape against her fingertips. His cock nudged at her entrance and she willingly let him slide in slowly and hold himself still over her.
She forced herself to open her eyes so that she would remember him like this. His gaze fixed on her body, his hazel eyes heavy with desire and his mouth swollen from her kisses. He started to move very softly, with none of the frantic pace of their previous encounters. He loved her with a thoroughness and patience that her long-dead husband had never even considered.
As he worked himself in and out of her, she walked her feet up the sides of his thighs to his buttocks and held on. She took each careful thrust of his hips and gave it back to him. Pleasure spilled over and through her in slow, pulsing waves that felt like they would never end. She gasped his name and he made a guttural sound and lost his smooth rhythm, gathered her closer and spilled himself inside her.
She didn't mind when his weight came down over her; she held him tight as he shuddered with his release. His head came to rest on the cloak beside hers and he sighed her name. While he rested, she ran her fingers down the long line of his spine and taut buttocks, stroked his muscled shoulders and tried to save every memory.
Eventually, Rhys rolled onto his back and brought her with him. She lay against his chest, fighting the urge to cry until it became impossible and hot tears slid down her cheeks.
His hand cupped her chin. "Cariad? What is wrong?"
She could only shake her head and burrow against him, her mouth pressed against his warm skin to stop her from saying anything that would spoil the perfection of the night. After a while, he resumed stroking her hair and she held back the rest of her tears until she was certain he had gone to sleep.
Rhys woke up to the unpleasant sensation of straw sticking into his back and opened his eyes. The high hammer-beam roof of the barn met his gaze and he remembered where he was and what he'd been doing. Verity lay draped over him, her inner thigh against his hip and her head tucked under his chin. He smoothed a hand over her tangled hair and whispered in her ear.
"Verity, we need to get back to the palace, or you will be missed."
She shook her head and pressed more closely against him, making his prick jump to attention. With a grimace, Rhys lifted her off him and sat up, propping her still-relaxed body against his chest.
"Verity . . ."
She opened her eyes and glared at him. "I was asleep."
"We must get back. I have no idea what time it is, but it must be near dawn."
He found their clothing and held up her thin shift. "Would you prefer to wear my shirt? It's long enough to cover most of you."
She glanced at him and then away as if she was suddenly embarrassed by his nudity. "If you wouldn't mind."
"It would be my pleasure." He handed her his shirt and enjoyed seeing her put it on. The hem came down past her knees. He picked up her cloak and gave it a good shake. "This will cover the rest of you."
She pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes. "I can only pray that no one sees us creeping in. My reputation will be in ruins."
"I'll take you back through the servants' entrance. There is no need to worry." He kept his tone light, but she still wouldn't look at him. He took her hand.
"My lady, is there something wrong?"
"Not at all . . . if you can indeed get me back into my bedchamber without anyone noticing."
She pulled out of his grasp and headed for the ladder. Rhys followed her, his emotions in turmoil. He caught up with her just as she was about to step out of the barn.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, you were . . ." She shook her head as if she couldn't bear to speak.
He maneuvered her around to face him. "Then why are you so eager to leave me?"
She raised her eyes to his and he saw it then, her regret; while he thought something had just begun between them, she was already saying good-bye. His hand dropped to his side and he let her walk away from him.
He followed a pace behind, wishing he had his daggers with him in the quiet dark of the early morning. Birds started to sing and the piercing quality and pure freedom of their songs caught his throat and made his heart ache. He wanted to stop and listen, but he had a duty to his lady, even if she didn't seem to want him.
He touched her only when necessary, guiding her by the elbow or an inclination of his head until they came up behind the mass of the stables and headed toward the kitchens. Suddenly, Verity slowed in front of him and he almost ran into her. A rattling sound drew his attention to the tiled roof on their left. He pulled Verity behind him as two Vampires leapt down to block their path.
The older of the two smiled to reveal his long fangs. "Going somewhere, Vampire slayer?"
"What about you?" Rhys met the man's hungry gaze head-on. "You are taking a great chance. It's almost dawn."
"Almost, but not quite, and we are famished." The Vampire's gaze ran over Rhys's bare chest. "And here you are, unarmed and defenseless." He nodded at Verity. "And she---well, beautiful as she is, she is no contest at all."
Without taking his gaze off the two Vampires, Rhys switched into Welsh. "Verity, when I tell you to run, do it."
"And leave you unprotected?"
"It is more important that you are safe. For once in your life, do what I tell you."
Rhys caught a flicker of movement from the younger Vampire and adjusted his stance. "Head for the kitchens and get help if you can." As the Vampire came at him, he shoved Verity hard in the other direction. "Go."
He didn't wait to see if she would obey him; all his attention was on deflecting the snapping jaws of the Vampire, who had launched himself in the air like a cat. Rhys swiveled and bent his knees, which prevented the male from coming down directly at his throat. Sharp claws caught Rhys's bare shoulder and he struck out with his elbow and his foot, catching the Vampire and bringing them both down to the ground.
Rhys fought to get on top of the young male, coldly aware that his chances of subduing both Vampires without his weapons were indeed slim. As the male struggled to get at him, Rhys managed to brace his forearm under the Vampire's neck, baring his throat.
A heavy weight landed on his back and fangs sank into his already weakened left shoulder. Pain lanced through him. He forced himself to concentrate on finishing off the first Vampire, who was trapped under the weight of both Rhys and his second assailant. He punched upward into the male's jaw, silencing his screams, and then swiftly broke his neck.
He tried to flex his fingers, but his left arm refused to obey him any longer. The smell of his own blood reached him and he was aware that the second Vampire was sucking on his shoulder as if starved. For the moment, Rhys didn't care about the damage being inflicted on him, only that the Vampire was distracted. He reached his right hand behind him and scrabbled at the Vampire's waist, found what he sought, and tried to roll.
His sight blurred and his strength seemed to disappear. He tried again, aware of a sense of lassitude creeping over him as the Vampire continued to drain him. Rhys hung his head and tried to breathe through the exquisite sensation of pain. He thought vaguely of Verity. Would she bring help? By God's teeth, he had to get rid of this Vampire and keep her safe.
With a huge effort, he tightened his grip on the Vampire's dagger and stabbed the first thing his blade encountered. The Vampire let out a high-pitched shriek and Rhys stabbed him again. As the Vampire's grip loosened slightly, Rhys attempted to rise to his knees, but the ground was spinning crazily around him and he could no longer tell which way was up.
He shuddered and fell forward; the Vampire on his back seemed to grow twice as heavy and his face was now buried in the dead Vampire's chest. He could hardly breathe. Aware that he was going to suffocate, Rhys tried to push himself away, but it was like swimming fully clothed against the tide and he subsided with a groan.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back and Verity and Elias were staring down at him. He knew things must be bad because Verity's face was white and even Elias looked concerned. He reached a hand to his left shoulder and white-hot pain shot through him.
"Rhys, stay still," Verity said.
He couldn't oblige her. With all his remaining strength he raised himself up on his right elbow, turned his head and retched. By the time he'd finished, Verity had used her cloak to make a pillow behind his head and was arguing with Elias. She was still wearing nothing but his shirt, exposing her long, shapely legs, and from his vantage point he could see that she had nothing on underneath. He remembered the feeling of her legs wrapped around his waist as he swived her and smiled as he lost consciousness.
Verity grabbed Elias's proffered kerchief and pressed it to the gaping wound on Rhys's shoulder. She tried not to look at the two Vampires who lay a little way to her left. She'd used a heavy silver tray stolen from the kitchen to bash one of them on the back of his head, causing more damage than she really wished to see.
The smell of Rhys's blood clogged her throat and made her want to puke as well. Behind the scent of blood old, borrowed, and new hung the acrid aroma she had come to associate with the Vampire they were hunting. Were these Vampires his servants? It seemed more than likely.
"It is almost dawn." Elias said. "The bodies will burn up by themselves, Lady Verity. There is little else I can do to help you."
"How am I to get Sir Rhys to a healer?"
Elias looked dubiously up at the sky, where cracks of yellow light were beginning to pour through the gray. "I know of a wise woman whose husband works in the stables at Hampton Court. She will aid you."
"But how? He's too heavy for me to lift."
"I can take him there, but it will have to be right now, and I will need Olivia's help if you wish to accompany him."
Verity nodded desperately. "Call her."
Immediately Olivia appeared, dressed in her boy's garb. With a cry, she sank to her knees beside Rhys. "What happened?"
Verity found herself resenting the way the female clung to Rhys's bloodied hand. "We were attacked by Vampires, what do you think?"
Olivia shot her an angry glare. "Where are Rhys's weapons? If he had not been dallying with you, perhaps he would've been better prepared."
"Olivia." Elias's cold voice cut through the other Vampire's outburst. "You need to take blood from either Rhys or Lady Verity, and help me get them to a healer."
Verity stepped forward. "You will take blood from me. Rhys has lost quite enough to your kind for one night."
Olivia ignored Verity and spoke to Elias. "Why does she need to go with him? I could go."
"No Druid healer is going to let you in her house. Lady Verity must accompany him." Elias shaded his eyes against the rapidly approaching dawn. "Do it now. And take as little as you can. Her blood is very strong."
Verity jumped as Olivia took her hand and bit the side of her wrist. Almost before Verity overcame the shock, Olivia had finished and sealed the wound.
"I'm ready, Elias."
"Then hold on to each other and stay close to me." Elias bent and picked up Rhys. "Now."
Verity gasped as she was swept off her feet. Time ceased to exist in a linear fashion and became a swirling gray tunnel that spat her and Olivia out in the vegetable patch behind a small thatched cottage. Verity swallowed her nausea as Elias carefully laid Rhys beside her.
She looked at both of the Vampires. "Thank you."
Elias bowed. "You are welcome. It is my sincere hope that Sir Rhys recovers. Olivia and I will make sure the queen is well until you return."
Just as they disappeared, the sun peeped over the roof of the cottage. Verity ran to the back door and banged on it with all her strength. An elderly woman opened the door and her gaze flew past Verity to the crumpled figure in her vegetable patch.
"Oh, my goodness, whatever has happened to Sir Rhys?" She shouted for someone inside the cottage and a large bearded man came out, picked Rhys up, and took him inside, where the healer directed him to place the body on the big kitchen table.
"I'm Mistress Hopkins, my dear. And you must be Lady Verity."
Verity tore her gaze from Rhys's still visage and looked at the old woman in surprise. "You know about me?"
"I knew there was a new member of the Llewellyn family guarding the king and queen." Mistress Hopkins placed her hand on Rhys's forehead. "Now, what happened to Sir Rhys?"
"We were on our way back from the festival when we were attacked by two Vampires." Verity's voice caught. "We didn't have any weapons to fight them off."
"There, there, my dear." Mistress Hopkins patted Verity's arm and then examined Rhys's bloodied shoulder. "That is a nasty bite, but I've seen far worse. Now, my lady, if you wish to help me, you must first take some bread and milk. I don't want you swooning."
Mistress Hopkins guided her into a rocking chair and called up the stairs again. Verity sipped at her milk and tried to force down some bread. Eventually, a sullen-looking young girl appeared.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Lady Verity, this is my daughter, Molly. She will find you something to wear and get you some water to wash in." She gestured at the girl. "Take Lady Verity up with you now and help her."
Verity cast a concerned glance back at Rhys, but he appeared to be still unconscious. Mistress Hopkins poured some water from a jug into a basin. "Get along now, my lady, and you'll be back quicker than a wink."
Verity followed Molly up the stairs and was offered what appeared to be the girl's Sunday-best gown. Being in no position to refuse the gift, Verity finally managed to raise a smile from Molly by promising a whole new set of clothing in exchange for her kindness.
By the time Molly helped lace her into the simple woolen gown and overskirt, Mistress Hopkins had already uncovered Rhys's shoulder and was steeping some herbs in boiling water. She looked up as Molly and Verity reached the bottom of the stairs.
"There you are, my lady. Now, Molly, lend the lady your apron and finish your chores. It isn't seemly for you to be here."
Molly stuck her lip out. "He isn't her husband either, is he?"
Mistress Hopkins glared at her daughter. "I'll not listen to such cheek from you, my girl. Go and do as you were bade and keep your clever remarks to yourself."
She shook her head and Molly stomped back up the stairs and slammed the door. "Girls these days think they can say anything they like to their parents."
Verity attempted a smile. "She was very helpful to me."
"So I should hope, my lady. Now let's look at this wound." Mistress Hopkins carefully sponged away the blood to reveal two ragged puncture holes and numerous darkening bruises.
Verity swallowed hard. "Will he be all right?"
Mistress Hopkins handed her a cloth. "Aye, my lady. I've seen many such wounds over the years and I've learned a trick or two." She pointed a finger at Verity. "But mind, you must be sure not to allow anyone to bleed him."
"I'll make sure that doesn't happen." Verity set her teeth and started to wipe the blood off Rhys's chest. He arched away from her touch and muttered something under his breath.
Mistress Hopkins raised her voice. "Now, Sir Rhys, you lie quietly while we make you better, or I'll have to give you a potion to make you sleep."
His eyes flickered open and he licked his lips. "Don't, please. I'll bide quietly, I promise."
Mistress Hopkins tutted. "They are all the same, these slayers. They can't bear to be unconscious." She gestured at the steeping herbs. "Fetch that pot, my lady, will you?"
"Of course." Verity was glad to put down the bloodstained rag and leave Mistress Hopkins to finish her thorough inspection of Rhys's skin. She inhaled the steam from the clay pot, which smelled of yarrow and mint. Verity waited while the wise woman placed her hands on Rhys's shoulder, closed her eyes, and murmured a prayer in a language Verity was familiar with only from Druidic ceremonies.
Rhys shuddered and a thin film of sweat gleamed on his pale skin. Verity yearned to comfort him, but she was too afraid to interrupt Mistress Hopkins.
"Keep very still now, Sir Rhys. I'm going to pour some of this herbal brew into the bite marks to stop the bleeding and clean out anything unpleasant the Vampire left behind." Mistress Hopkins glanced over at Verity. "I'll need you to hold his arm."
Verity crossed to Rhys's side and placed her hands where she was directed. Rhys's narrowed gaze moved in her direction and she tried to look calm and reassuring. She bit her lip as Mistress Hopkins poured the still-warm liquid into the gaping holes on his shoulder.
"Duw." Rhys hissed and his muscles flexed as tight as a bowstring. Verity had to press down hard on his upper arm to hold him still. She tried not to look as a bloody residue that stank of Vampire ran down his arm and pooled on the dirt floor.
Mistress Hopkins murmured another prayer, then patted Rhys's good shoulder. "I'll make you a poultice of yarrow and calendula and then bandage the wound. You must come back to me for three days and then all will be well---you'll see."
"He will be able to use his arm again in three days?" Verity asked.
"Not as well as he would wish, but he will be able to defend himself." She took something from her apron pocket and gave it to Verity. "He will probably have a fever, so make sure to soak some of this willow bark in hot water and make him drink it."
Verity let go of Rhys's arm and washed her still-trembling hands. "Thank you, Mistress Hopkins."
"You are more than welcome, my lady." Mistress Hopkins beckoned her over to the fireplace. "Now you sit here and watch over him while I go and arrange for you both to be taken back to the palace."
Verity sank into the big rocking chair and stared at the fire. If Mistress Hopkins was to be believed, Rhys was going to be all right, thank the gods. Even if she could never make love with him again, the prospect of not having his aid in the coming fight was unthinkable.
More than once, her gaze slid toward Rhys. She wouldn't allow herself to think about the glorious night they had spent together. It was still too close and too precious to explore and the memories would have to last her a lifetime. He'd probably expect her to cling to him and demand that he love her more than he loved Rosalind, but that would never happen. She deserved a man who would love her with a whole heart, not one who would always see her as second best. She'd asked the gods for one night with him and that would be enough for her.
It had to be.
"Let me look at it again." Rhys carefully shrugged out of his heavy jerkin and removed his shirt. Mistress Hopkins touched his left shoulder and pain sliced through him, making his breath hitch. Despite the healer's care, his shoulder hadn't healed as fast as he had expected. A thin, bloody discharge continued to seep from the bite marks.
As she probed the skin, her fingers felt cool against his heated flesh. Rhys set his teeth and stared out of the window. It had been more than a week since he'd been wounded and he felt no better. It was only at Verity's insistence that he'd come back to see Mistress Hopkins. He didn't think it would help. But at this point he would do anything to please Verity, anything that would make her look lovingly at him again.
He felt as if he was at war with himself. One part of him desperately craved Verity's attention, while the other hated his need for her and scoffed at his own weakness. He wasn't sure why such insidious thoughts now crowded his head, but his normal calm had deserted him. And it wasn't just Verity he was conflicted about. All of his acquaintances suddenly seemed suspect and bent on deceiving him.
"Did you apply the salve, my lady?"
"Yes, and I made sure to keep his fever down."
Rhys glanced at Verity's profile. Truly, she had looked after him, but there'd been no intimacy in her care, only the calm of a healer tending to a patient. She'd accompanied him today only to bring back the clothes she'd borrowed and give Molly the gift of a new gown.
Mistress Hopkins sighed. "It seems that the Vampire had something in his bite that stops the wound from healing properly." She sniffed Rhys's skin. "Can you smell that, my lady?"
Verity leaned close and inhaled. Rhys wanted to slide his hand around her neck, turn her mouth toward his, and kiss her. They hadn't kissed since the night of the festival. The night everything had changed for him, but apparently not for her. She was still pleasant and cooperative, but beyond that she seemed to view him as something that belonged to her past rather than her future.
He shivered as she exhaled over his skin and he caught a hint of her warm honey scent.
"It smells like Janus, the Vampire we seek," Verity murmured.
Mistress Hopkins looked even more worried. "The one who wants to harm the dear queen and her child? Was he the one who bit Sir Rhys?"
"No, I don't think so. But mayhap that Vampire was turned by Janus."
"Why won't the bite heal?"
Verity spoke slowly. ""He is different somehow. He smells not of wolf or fox but of decay and death."
"Let's pray those things are not in Sir Rhys, then," Mistress Hopkins muttered. "I will consult with the Elders and see if they have any stronger magic we can use on him."
"Are you saying you can't make me better? Are you not supposed to be the best healer in this region?"
"Rhys!" Verity smiled at Mistress Hopkins. "He does not mean to sound so ungrateful."
"I'm sure he speaks from frustration rather than anger, my lady." Mistress Hopkins patted Rhys's arm and gave him an unconvincing smile. "We just need to find the right physic."
"But what if you can't? What if this thing never heals?" Rhys replied.
As his voice rose, Verity took his hand. "Mistress Hopkins is very skilled at her work, Sir Rhys. I'm sure she'll find a solution."
Rhys pulled away from her touch. He knew it was pointless to argue, but deep inside him fear stirred. Was he destined to grow weaker and weaker until he begged to be put out of his misery? God's teeth! Without his prized ability to fight, he would be as helpless as he had been as a child against his stepfather's fists.
Mistress Hopkins picked up her basket. "I must gather some fresh herbs for a warm poultice. Wait here, my dears, and I'll be back in a moment." She shut the cottage door, leaving an uneasy silence behind her.
Verity crossed to the fire and sat down in the rocking chair, her gray riding skirts gathered closely around her. Her hair was hidden under her hood, which meant he could study the beauty of her profile. Gingerly, Rhys swung his legs over the edge of the table. He hadn't been alone with Verity for more than a moment all week.
"So I smell like death. Is that why you have been avoiding me?"
She turned her head to look at him, her expression shocked. "Of course not. That was not what I meant, Sir Rhys. You must know that---"
He raised his eyebrows and she stammered to a stop. "Then if that's not it, what is wrong?"
"I don't understand what you mean."
He sighed. It seemed she did not mean to make this easy. He was too weary to let her lead him through the complicated maze of a woman's mind. Sometimes a man had a need to be direct.
"Verity, what did I do wrong?"
"You have done nothing wrong."
There was a ring of truth to her words that comforted him a little and emboldened him to continue. "Then why are we at odds?"
She met his gaze. "I wasn't aware that we were."
"We haven't talked about what happened on Lughnasadh."
"What is there to discuss?"
For a stunned moment he simply stared at her until a faint blush stole up her cheeks and she raised her chin.
"Do you not remember what we did?" Rhys asked.
"Of course I do." She bit her lip. "Should I have thanked you more formally? I'm not familiar with the courtesies expected of those involved in the rituals."
"The courtesies?" Rhys was aware of his temper rising again, which was unusual in itself. Until recently, he hadn't even admitted to having a temper. "Are you suggesting that what we did was out of duty?"
She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly together in her lap. "I do not understand why you are angry."
"Because . . ." He looked at her and shook his head as a sick feeling of inadequacy burned a hole in his gut. "Did it mean nothing to you? Was I just fortunate to stumble across you at that moment and be the one to swive you?"
She jumped up from her chair. "No, I chose you. I wanted---" She broke off and turned away from him.
He slid down from the table, aware of the jarring in his shoulder, and advanced toward her. "Aye, you chose me and like a fool I let you take me in."
She swung around and he couldn't decide whether he wanted to kiss her or shake her.
"It wasn't like that. I wished for you and I got what I wanted: a whole night with you."
"And having had me, you are satisfied?"
She nodded, her expression pensive. "You were everything I expected and more."
"Then---" Rhys stopped talking as Mistress Hopkins came through the door, her basket full of herbs.
"Now, Sir Rhys, sit back on that table, and my lady, bring me some of that boiling water from the kettle over the fire."
There was nothing Rhys could do but prepare for another unpleasant poultice to be slathered on his shoulder. He didn't understand what Verity meant. She'd wanted him; she'd said so.
Then what was wrong? Why had she decided he was worthy of only one night? Dread curdled in his gut and lower, in his manly parts.
His breath hissed out as Mistress Hopkins applied the poultice to his skin, and beads of sweat trickled down his face. At least it wasn't his right shoulder that was damaged; he could still use his sword. But for how long? Grimly Rhys admitted to himself that the weakness was growing, expanding into his whole body. How long would he have, and how in God's name was he going to be able to save the queen and protect Verity?
Verity glanced across at her silent companion as they walked their horses slowly back to Richmond Palace. It was a fine day for riding, but Verity was not in the humor to challenge Rhys to a race and he was in no condition to attempt one. Luckily, he was an accomplished rider who didn't seem to need his upper body strength to guide his horse at all.
To her dismay their conversation about what had happened between them at Lughnasadh hadn't proceeded as she had imagined. She'd assumed he would be grateful for her restraint and relieved that she didn't expect devotion from him. Instead he had seemed angry that she wasn't demanding more of him.
She slowed her horse until he came up alongside her. His face was set, his mobile mouth a thin line that spoke eloquently of his pain.
"Are you all right, Rhys?"
He hardly spared her a glance. "As well as could be expected, my lady, after being poked and prodded by a healer."
"I'm sure Mistress Hopkins will find a way to restore you to health soon."
"She'd better, or else we'll all be in trouble." His tone was as dark as his expression.
"All I know is that we need to find this Vampire and kill him as quickly as possible."
"Indeed, my lady."
Verity gathered her reins more tightly in her gloved hand. "Are you angry with me, Sir Rhys?"
"Why would I be angry? You have said your piece. I understand that I am no longer necessary to your comfort and I will endeavor not to bother you with my tiresome attentions."
Inside Verity cringed. Had she truly hurt him? Did he actually wish her to profess her love, to beg him for another night in his arms? It seemed unlikely, considering what she knew of him.
She struggled to think of something to say. "I'm sorry if I have offended you in some way. I hope that your displeasure will not affect our partnership."
"Never fear. I have a job to do and I will do it." He stared straight ahead between his horse's ears. "And if you are happy with everything as it is, why shouldn't I be?"
Verity gave up the effort to be pleasant and urged her horse forward into a canter. Rhys wouldn't be able to keep up, and at that moment she had no wish to see his face ever again.
"It is kind of you to speak with me, Master Warner." On her return she had decided to seek out Elias. There were several things she wished to ask him without Rhys's unforgiving presence beside her.
Verity smiled carefully up at Elias as he handed her over a small stile and into the wilder part of the extensive palace gardens. They'd left the court listening to a reading from a book of sermons by the queen's chaplain, which seemed to soothe the exhausted-looking queen.
"Please, call me Elias. In Vampire terms we are practically related."
"Because you have taken my blood?"
"Indeed." He kissed her wrist and she felt the delicate, seductive scrape of his fangs. She gently disengaged her hand and sat down on the low stone wall.
"It is blood that I wanted to talk to you about."
He dusted the stone and sat down next to her, his expression interested. "What kind of blood?"
"I was wondering how long a Vampire can go without feeding."
"It depends on many things. The older the Vampire, the longer he can last without blood. The quality of the blood matters as well. For example, if I feed from a Vampire who is more powerful than I am, I need less blood than I would from a human or a lesser Vampire."
Verity sighed. "That's not very helpful. I was trying to work out when the Vampire who preys on the queen would need to feed from her next."
"I would imagine that the longest Janus could last without any blood at all would be, at most, a month, but remember, he could be feeding elsewhere."
"The Vampires who attacked us said that they were starving."
Elias contemplated his long, beringed fingers. "Some Vampire masters keep their servants hungry so that they will do their bidding more easily."
Verity shuddered as she recalled the sticklike monster hunched over Rhys. "The Vampire I hit with the silver tray was sucking on Rhys like a starving baby." She looked up. "Maybe there was a reason for that."
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe he wasn't just feeding from Rhys, but making sure he gave him something as well. Something that is preventing him from healing."
"It can take some time for a bite to heal, my lady. There is a substance in our saliva that helps to keep blood flowing as we feed."
"I understand that, but this wound?" She met Elias's silver gaze. "It won't stop bleeding and it still smells of Vampire."
"Then your healer hasn't cleaned the wound properly."
"No, it is different. It smells of death."
All expression disappeared from Elias's face. "Like the Vampire we seek? I hope Janus isn't able to---" He stopped speaking abruptly.
"What is it?"
"If what I fear is true, Rhys Williams is in grave danger."
Verity grabbed his sleeve. "What?"
"I'm not sure if I should tell you, my lady."
"Please, I need to know anything that can help him!"
"It might not help at all." Elias hesitated. "There are Vampires whose bite is fatal."
"All Vampires can kill---"
"If they tear out your throat, yes, but most Vampires feed without killing. There are certain others, however, whose bite is like a deadly disease that destroys their victims more slowly, from within."
Verity tried not to show her fear. "And this Vampire's servants would also have such a power?"
"I fear it might be so, my lady."
"Do you know of anything we can do to stop it?"
Elias shook his head slowly.
"But we must do something to save Rhys!"
"Not to mention that this might be the same Vampire who is drinking from the queen."
Verity made her way back to the palace in a daze of tangled thoughts. She saw Olivia sitting near the back of the assembled courtiers, her face a study in boredom, her hand raised to her mouth to conceal a yawn. As unobtrusively as she could, Verity approached the Vampire and touched her shoulder. When Olivia looked up, Verity gestured for her to follow as she walked through to the queen's deserted bedchamber.
"What do you want, Lady Verity?" Olivia asked.
Verity studied her rival. She was wearing a dark red velvet gown that made her skin glow. Rubies glittered on the bodice of her dress like drops of blood. She'd thought long and hard about what she needed to do next, and Olivia, unfortunately, was the only person who could help her.
"The wound on Rhys's shoulder will not heal."
Olivia went still. "What do you mean?"
"We think that there was something in the Vampire's bite that is preventing him from healing and maybe even doing him far greater harm."
"Who do you mean, 'we'?"
"The Druid healer, Elias Warner, and I."
"Rhys doesn't know this himself?"
"He knows that his condition isn't improving. The rest is mere conjecture at this point. It wouldn't make him feel any better to know."
"So you don't intend to share your fears with him."
"We will share them if we have to. At this point, I'd prefer to find a solution rather than worry him."
Olivia met Verity's gaze, her blue eyes steady. "What can I do to help?"
"We fear that Rhys's affliction was given to him by a servant of Janus, the Vampire we seek."
"The same Vampire who is attacking the queen?"
"It is possible."
"Then we need to kill him."
"Exactly, and if Rhys starts to weaken, I will need your help."
"To fight with you?"
"Not only that, but to teach me how to fight better." Verity hesitated. "Would you be willing to help me?"
Olivia considered her for a long moment. "If I must. I assume you don't want me to tell Rhys about this either."
Verity smiled. "I don't want to worry him."
Olivia raised her eyebrows. "You truly wish to be a slayer like your cousin Rosalind? Do you think that will make Rhys love you?"
"I can never be Rosalind."
Olivia sighed. "And neither can I."
They gazed at each other and then Olivia looked away. "Sometimes males can be such fools."
Verity thought of Rhys's surly reaction to her explanation about Lughnasadh and nodded. "Indeed they can."
"When do you wish to meet with me and train?"
Verity paused at the doorway of the chamber. "Perhaps when the queen is resting in the afternoon? We can meet at the old bathhouse down by the stable."
Olivia smiled. "I can find you anywhere. I still have your blood, remember?"
"But that was a week ago. I thought the effects didn't last."
"You are a Druid and a Llewellyn." Olivia licked her lips. "Your blood was extremely powerful."
"So Elias said." Verity grimaced. "I'm beginning to feel like a bottle of the king's finest wine."
Olivia actually smiled as she passed Verity. "I will meet you tomorrow afternoon while the queen sleeps."
"Indeed." Verity waited for a while, until Olivia was well away from her, and then she too made her way back to the queen's main receiving room and joined the throng of ladies. Another thought struck her as she settled down to listen to the melodic voice of the queen's chaplain.
She had a terrible sense that things were rapidly moving out of her control. Verity closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to Saint Jude. There was nothing else she could think of to do.
"Rhys,I don't think you should be doing this." Rhys ignored Verity's quiet plea and continued to check his hunting gear and load the extra weapons onto Artio's saddle. His shoulder hurt like the devil. His teeth ached from clenching them so hard against the insidious pain and from restraining himself from shouting at Verity.
"Rhys . . ." She touched his arm and he went still, although he didn't turn to look at her. He already knew she looked beautiful in a dark green gown with a trailing skirt and a matching hood, meant for riding.
"My lady, it is my duty to protect the king and queen. If the queen takes the foolish notion into her head that she wishes to observe the hunt, then I must go with her."
"Verily, Rhys, it is my duty, not yours," Verity said steadily. "I am going on the hunt, as are Elias and Olivia. There is no need for you to come."
He pulled away from her then. "No need? Are you suggesting that the three of you can do without me?"
She met his gaze without flinching. "Yes, I am." She sighed. "Please, Rhys; your shoulder is not strong enough to use a bow or a crossbow properly."
As if she needed to tell him that. He knew it and hated it. "I'm not intending to hunt. I'll leave that to you and the Vampires. I'm only going to protect the queen."
"As are we all." She cupped his cheek. "Is there anything I can say that will dissuade you from accompanying the hunt?"
He gazed into her blue eyes and for a moment he forgot the pain in his shoulder as his body yearned toward hers. "Take me to your bed. That might distract me for a while. But I forget---you offer yourself only on certain nights, don't you? And it is a long while before Samhain."
She snatched back her hand and tried to slap him, but he caught her wrist. "There is no need for this show of temper, my lady. I speak only the truth."
Pain flashed in her eyes, and he hesitated for a moment before kissing her gloved palm and letting her go. He turned back to his horse before he could take her into his arms and kiss her. She continued to watch him as he buckled his spare quiver of arrows securely onto the right side of his saddle. He hoped he wouldn't have to shoot anything, for Verity was right: His arm was not strong enough. At the same time, there was excitement stirring in his tainted blood. He felt the increasing need to hunt, like a dark sickness invading his mind. It was worse at night when the voice invaded his dreams and he saw himself turning on his own kind and mindlessly killing . . .
Verity shivered. "I sense the Vampire again. He is close today. I wonder if he will be hunting with the king."
Rhys didn't say anything. It was far more likely that she'd sensed the echo of the Vampire in his mind, and he wasn't going to tell her about that unless he absolutely had to. She had enough to deal with without him revealing his growing sickness. Let her believe he was irritable because of his injured arm.
A hunting horn sounded in the stable yard, followed by a cacophony of excited barking from the royal greyhounds. Verity half turned away and Rhys glanced over his shoulder.
"Do you wish me to help you onto your horse?"
Verity picked up her skirts. "No, I can manage by myself, Sir Rhys. Mayhap I will see you later."
He nodded and waited until she left the stall before inwardly cursing. Of course he didn't want to ride with the hunt, but the more everyone insisted he needed to stay behind, the angrier it made him. He was the premier Vampire slayer in the kingdom. It was his duty to defend the Tudors from their foes and nothing that Verity, Elias, or Olivia could say would change his mind.
With an impatient whinny, Artio nudged his hip and Rhys contemplated mounting up. Once he was astride he would be fairly safe, for he had the skill to control the horse with his knees and heels. He reached his hand up to the pommel, which seemed as high as a mountain. His leather jerkin suddenly felt as if it weighed a ton and he fought an impulse to rip it off.
"May I help you, Sir Rhys?"
He turned to see Elias in the doorway, also dressed for hunting. Outside, the horns blared again and there was the sound of general movement and shouting.
"Did Lady Verity send you to aid me?"
"I haven't seen her." He studied Rhys. "I asked because I assumed your shoulder might be paining you." He glanced back along the central passageway outside the stalls. "If you lead your horse out here, I can have you up in the saddle in but a moment."
Rhys grabbed hold of Artio's bridle. "I don't need your help. I've been getting up on my horse unaided since I was three years old."
"But not wounded."
He glared at Elias. "I am perfectly well. Now will you leave me in peace?"
Elias bowed. "Of course."
Rhys led Artio out into the almost deserted stable yard and headed for the mounting block. After a quick look around, he set his foot in the heavy stirrup and managed to heave himself into the saddle. Sweat broke out on his brow and he had to breathe deeply, but he was up without help and ready to go. He gathered the reins in his right hand and clicked to Artio. As long as he stayed in the saddle, he would be perfectly fine. He could only hope to God that was all that would be required of him.
Verity leaned forward in the saddle and allowed herself to enjoy the rocking motion as the mare changed her gait and picked up speed. It was a beautiful day for hunting, if one cared for such a sport. She would rather hunt Vampires than defenseless animals, but even she was enjoying the exhilaration of this chase.
Ahead of her, the horn sounded and the hounds cried out with new purpose, their excited yelps echoing through the protected forest. Verity eased up as she saw Elias appear to her left. The Vampire sat a horse exceedingly well, but then, he'd probably had plenty of practice. He came up alongside her, his face uncharacteristically grim beneath the feathered brim of his blue velvet cap.
"Is Rhys all right?" Verity asked.
"I haven't seen him since he refused my offer of help in the stables. He is behaving quite unlike himself and is as stubborn as most humans of my acquaintance."
"I wish I could have persuaded him to stay behind." Verity remembered Rhys's crude offer and felt heat rising in her cheeks. For a moment she'd been tempted and had imagined him lying in her bed while she tenderly made love to him . . . But she'd sensed something in his demeanor that had prevented her---a hardness of features and a touch of anger in his eyes that had reminded her of her dead husband's selfish lust. She shook the thought away and turned to find Elias watching her with a small smile on his face.
"I'm sure you could have persuaded him, my lady. He is, after all, enamored of you."
"He is enamored of Rosalind."
"Who is married."
"Which does not seem to make the smallest difference to the way Rhys feels about her," Verity said lightly.
"I think you care for him, though."
"Which also makes no difference." Verity held Elias's speculative gaze. "Shall we talk about something else?"
"If you wish, but I pray you consider my words. You might be the only person who is capable of making Sir Rhys conserve his strength. We both know that, even if he doesn't."
"He knows something is terribly wrong. He's no fool."
"Far from it. Has your healer met with any success yet in treating the Vampire bite?"
"Unfortunately not. Have you succeeded in confronting this Janus yet?"
"No." Elias bent to readjust his stirrup. "We have to find out something soon. Time is running out for both the queen and Sir Rhys."
With that, he nodded to Rosalind and rode ahead of her, his white horse and blue-gray hunting jacket the perfect foil for his good looks. Verity looked around the wooded copse she was riding through. The hunt was more spread out now, waiting for the hounds to catch a new scent and speed off in another direction. On her right, a lady rode by with her merlin strapped to her gloved wrist, the bells on the bird's jesses jingling sweetly.
Verity glanced up at the blinding sun. Elias was one of the very few Vampires who could withstand full daylight. Olivia was due to join them later in the afternoon with the rest of the queen's ladies who had chosen not to ride.
Verity squinted harder and finally spotted Rhys just entering the glade. She didn't wait for him to catch up, unwilling to face his ire at being watched over. From what she could see, he was coping well. She ducked her head to avoid the low branches of an oak tree and heard the horns calling again. As she entered the flatter terrain of a grassy field, she shortened her reins and her mare responded with a burst of speed that took her away from Rhys and toward the center of the hunt.
By the time Rhys reached the queen, Verity had already dismounted and settled her horse with the stable hands in the shadows by the stream. The royal falconer had set up a temporary mews for the king's birds and rows of hooded hawks shifted back and forth on their makeshift perches. Despite the shade it was still quite hot. Verity gazed longingly at the rippling water. She would love to paddle her feet.
To amuse the queen, the king had spared no expense in making the glade into a luxurious, comfortable place for his wife to rest. Expensive rugs covered the grass and tents had been pitched to protect the revelers from the sun. The odor of cooking meat permeated the air and ale was plentiful and available to all from the barrels lined up on the tables.
The queen was ensconced in the largest enclosure, seated on a pile of cushions and surrounded by her ladies. She'd been brought to the site in a slow-moving wagon that had taken the smoothest route available. Where necessary the queen had been carried in her chair by four men.
Verity noticed Olivia attending the queen and nodded at her. Olivia didn't respond but Verity knew she had been seen. It had been over a week since she and Olivia had started to train together, and Verity could still feel the ache in her arms from where Olivia had bested her the day before. But at least she was improving; even Olivia acknowledged it, and she was far harder to please than Rhys had ever been.
Verity sipped at her wine and watched out of the corner of her eye as Rhys arrived and headed toward the makeshift stables. As if by accident, Elias appeared alongside him and without any visible motion used his Vampire strength to help Rhys dismount. When Rhys swayed on his feet, Verity resisted an urge to run to his side. God's teeth, she was sick with worry for him.
After a while, she found an excuse to approach him. He stood a little way off from the crowds, leaning against a tree, his face a disdainful mask that would've done Elias credit. Unlike most of the courtiers, he wore practical hunting gear of leather and soft buckskin that made him look far more masculine.
She proffered a cup of ale. "I brought you this. You must be parched."
He accepted it with a gruff word of thanks and brought it to his lips. She watched his throat work as he swallowed and wanted to kiss his skin right there beneath his ear and then lower, in the hollow of his shoulder.
His hazel gaze met hers and she couldn't stop staring at him. Had he seen the desire in her eyes?
"Do you want to sit down?" she said hastily. "I could fetch you some food."
His intense expression disappeared and was replaced by irritation. "I do not expect you to wait on me, my lady."
She smiled up at him. She did not wish to get into an argument. "Then perhaps you might fetch me something to eat. I declare, I am famished after that ride."
He blinked and came away from the tree. "Of course, my lady. Is there anything in particular you wish to partake of?"
"Oh, nothing in particular. Why don't you surprise me?"
He disappeared with an alacrity that alarmed her and almost made her call him back. She resisted the impulse and found a place to sit in the shade on one of the piles of cushions. To her right, in the larger tent, the king had joined the queen. He was sharing a golden platter of food with her, encouraging her to eat the tenderest morsels.
Glumly Verity wondered what it would be like to have a man attend to her like that. A shadow fell over her and she shaded her eyes to look up. Rhys was back, balancing a filled platter in one hand and two goblets and a jug of ale in the other. She took the ale from him and set it on the ground and then reached for the platter.
"Thank you---that looks delightful. Will you join me?"
He hesitated for a moment and then eased himself down beside her, supporting his weight on his right side. She placed the platter of food between them and used her dagger to spear a tasty slice of beef. She picked up another piece and held it out to him.
"This is excellent---will you try it?"
He opened his mouth as if to refuse, but she leaned into him and popped the succulent morsel between his lips. She was so close to him now that their noses almost touched and she could smell his particularly evocative scent. She inhaled again more slowly and picked up something else. The scent of the Vampire.
"Would you like some more, Sir Rhys?"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you being so charming to me?"
"I am simply being polite."
"I thought we were at odds again."
She opened her eyes wide at him. "Because I refused to take you back to the palace and bed you?"
He winced. "I should not have said those things."
She held his gaze. "No, you should not. It was unlike you."
He looked away from her. "By all that is holy, I'm not sure what I am like anymore."
"What do you mean?" Verity asked slowly.
"Since getting this bite, I am behaving like a wounded bear."
His quick dismissive smile didn't reassure her. "Have you noticed other changes since that day?" she asked with concern.
"All men are irritable when they are wounded," Rhys said, looking away. "We are more difficult to nurse than children, or so Mistress Hopkins keeps telling me." He reached for his tankard of ale and swallowed it all down.
"Has the infection gotten worse?"
"Not worse. It remains the same." He glared at her. "If you had continued to accompany me to the healer's you would know this."
"I assumed you wouldn't wish me to hang on your sleeve like a mother hen."
His mouth twisted. "You assume a lot about me, don't you?"
Revolt stirred in her stomach and she put down the platter with a thump. "This from a man who thinks I swive every Druid I meet at every festival!" She glared at him.
He didn't say anything and she got to her feet and marched away from him, down toward the stream and the horses. She was not going to cry in front of him. She was not. She rested her hand against one of the oak trees and stared out over the stream. She heard him come up behind her and tensed.
"If it is not your custom to enjoy the rituals, then why did you choose to bed me?"
She refused to look at him. "Because I wanted you."
"That is hardly a fair answer."
"Am I not allowed to enjoy the festival or want a man?" She swallowed hard. "Perhaps I did not satisfy you. Did you find me lacking in some way?"
"Verity . . ." His fingers curved around her shoulder. "You know you satisfied me." He paused. "I wondered if perhaps it was the other way around, and that I hadn't pleased you."
A tremor shook her as she remembered him moving over her, filling her, loving her. "I told you, you were everything I hoped for."
"Then why don't you want me anymore?"
She leaned her forehead against the rough bark of the tree and closed her eyes against the hurt in his voice. If she told him that she wanted him forever, what would he do? Probably run as fast as he could back to worshipping Rosalind and the safety of loving someone from afar. She knew how that was; after all, she'd loved him her whole life. Now she thought it would've been better to have kept him as a dream, for having tasted the reality she'd found him even better than she had anticipated. It was proving harder than she had imagined to keep her vow and push him away.
"Verity?"
She took a deep steadying breath. "Let us not have this conversation. We are in the middle of a fight to save the queen and you are injured. I would've thought that you would prefer me to keep my mind on saving the queen rather than on you."
Silence greeted her remarks and by the time she dared to look around, he had already walked away.
Rhys kept walking until he reached the edge of the glade and beyond and realized that he was still furious. Verity was right, damn her; this was not the time to be delving into their feelings for each other. But he sensed there was some other reason she refused to discuss their relationship.
What was she afraid of? He pulled out his gloves and slapped them against his thigh. That he'd swive her for as long as their Vampire hunt lasted and then forget her? That she would always be second best to Rosalind? He paused. That was the crux of the matter---he was sure of it. He'd long since stopped comparing them. Verity was so different from Rosalind and so much more attuned to him that his past affection for Rosalind now seemed a pale thing in comparison.
But how was he going to persuade Verity that he no longer wanted Rosalind? Especially when she herself felt inferior to her cousin? God help him if he waded into those treacherous waters.
"Ah, we meet again, Sir Rhys."
Rhys looked up to see Lord Thomas Seymour blocking the path back toward the festivities. He inclined his head. "My lord."
"Are you enjoying the hunt?" Lord Thomas strolled toward Rhys, one hand resting on the hilt of his ornate sword. He was dressed in dark brown with subdued gold jewelry.
"Indeed I am."
Lord Thomas laughed. "Even with that wounded shoulder of yours?"
Rhys straightened and made sure his dagger was in his hand. "I'm quite well enough to fight."
"That's not what I've heard." Lord Thomas circled him, his narrowed gaze fixed on Rhys's left shoulder. "I've heard your wound weeps blood like stigmata."
"Perhaps I have received a mark from God."
"I doubt it." Lord Thomas inhaled. "I can smell his blood in you."
"Whose blood?" Rhys made the mistake of meeting Lord Thomas's eyes and saw that they were gleaming red.
"My master's." Lord Thomas went still and then smiled. "Shall I prove it to you?"
Before Rhys could move, pain gripped his left shoulder and he instinctively grabbed his arm. It felt as if his blood were boiling and trying to punch its way out of the wounds. He choked back a curse as he fell to his knees fighting the terrible pain. He forced himself to look up at Lord Thomas.
"Do you enjoy being the slave of a soulless Vampire?"
Lord Thomas's eyes flashed and the pain doubled, making Rhys want to claw at his own skin to release the swirling agony. Bile rose in his throat and he struggled to breathe normally.
"I could still kill you, Vampire slayer. This is just so much more satisfying."
"Satisfying for a coward. Fight me like a man, blade to blade."
"But my master wishes you to suffer." Lord Thomas's mocking voice was echoed in Rhys's head as his Vampire master joined in. "You are trespassing on his property."
"Let him go."
Verity's calm voice cut through the haze in Rhys's mind. He wanted to scream at her to run, but he no longer had the ability to speak. It was all he could do to raise his eyes to look. Verity had a crossbow aimed at Lord Thomas's heart.
"Ah, Lady Verity. Have you come to the rescue of your fellow slayer?"
Verity met his amused gaze. "Get away from him, my lord, or I will shoot you. The arrows are tipped with silver, just in case."
"You wouldn't shoot me, my dear." Lord Thomas actually had the audacity to laugh. "We all know that you're highly unsuited to the role you've been forced to assume."
"You are wrong. I am quite prepared to kill you." She raised her weapon and sighted on his chest. "Rhys, are Vampire servants immortal?"
Something flickered in Lord Thomas's eyes and Verity smiled. She was so tired of being belittled. "I'll wager they are not."
She released the arrow and had the satisfaction of seeing it bury itself in his upper arm exactly where she had intended. His roar of anger echoed through the trees and several birds exploded from the treetops.
She quickly reloaded. "This one will go through your black heart."
She blinked as a ghostly figure appeared behind Lord Thomas and then both were gone. She ran to Rhys, who was still kneeling on the ground, one hand clasped to his injured shoulder, and crouched down next to him.
"Are you all right?"
His skin was bleached as white as bone and his breathing was labored. "Aye." He wiped a shaking hand over his mouth and retrieved his dagger. "You did well."
"I had no choice. I could not let him harm you." She continued to study him, looking for a wound. "What did he do to you?"
"He proved that his master controls my blood." He paused, then went on quietly. "And there was nothing I could do to stop him. Nothing."
She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him tight but settled for touching his right shoulder. "That's why we work together, isn't it? Sometimes you will save me and other times I will save you."
She got to her feet and offered him her hand. He took it and slowly stood up. "I'm not capable of saving a fly at the moment."
She hated the defeated sound in his voice and put her hand on his still-ashen cheek. "Please don't give up, Rhys. I need you."
He didn't answer her, and after a moment she took her hand away and busied herself with her crossbow.
"Who taught you how to shoot one of those?" Rhys asked and she looked up at him.
"Olivia. She said it was the quickest way to protect myself."
Rhys nodded. "She taught you well. I should have thought of it myself." He turned back toward the hunting party, his expression bleak, his hand pressed to his left shoulder. "Mayhap you were right. You don't need me anymore."
Despite her first instinct, Verity didn't follow him. She suspected that nothing she could say would salve his hurt pride. She could only hope common sense would reassert itself and make him see that she needed him.
With a sigh, she pushed her feelings for him away and stared at the flattened grass where Lord Thomas Seymour had been standing. It had not been pleasant to see the arrow enter his arm, but she would do it again in a heartbeat.
"Verity." She stilled as the Vampire's unwelcome insidious whisper slid into her mind. "I let him live, just for you . . ."
The mocking laughter faded and she struggled to breathe through the horrible sweet stench of decay. She knew the Vampire's taunts were meant to frighten her, but this time they had the opposite effect. She glared at the deserted clearing. She would kill this Janus or she would die trying.
With the surreptitious aid of Elias, Rhys managed to mount his horse and face the lonely ride back to the palace. He hadn't told Elias what had happened to him, but he was quite certain Verity would. He settled his weight deeper into the saddle and shortened his reins. A wave of what even he recognized as self-pity washed over him. They didn't need him. Verity was turning into a competent slayer, and Elias and Olivia had proved more than capable of guarding the queen.
He turned Artio's head in the direction of the palace and fixed his gaze on the horizon. Even if he did leave, where would he go? He'd spent his entire life hunting Vampires and had no family, few friends who weren't slayers, and no home. Unbidden, an image of Avebury Manor rose to taunt him. Rosalind had everything he'd ever wanted to give her---with another man.
The sun was lower now, sitting just above the line of the trees. Anger coiled low in his gut. Why in God's teeth was he fighting anyway? What loyalty had ever been shown to him? He fought against the insidious new voice that seemed to have wormed its way inside his head. Damn it, he would not run away. He gripped the reins too tightly and Artio snorted and tossed his head. Despite everything, he couldn't leave Verity to fight alone. Even if she didn't want him, he had nothing left in his life that he wanted to protect as much as her.
Verity made her way back to the revelers and sought out Elias. He immediately found her a goblet of strong wine and made her sit down in the shade while she told him what had happened. For a long while he didn't say anything, his expression remote, only his eyes betraying his frustration.
"This cannot go on. I too felt the Vampire's presence and it was most unpleasant."
"I'd already decided that for myself," Verity replied.
"I cannot find any link between Janus and my line." Elias frowned. "If I had turned him I would remember it, and yet I have no recollection of encountering his particular powers before. It is passing strange."
"Perhaps he isn't connected to you after all." Verity sighed. "It just makes everything even more complicated, doesn't it?"
"There has to be a blood link somewhere; otherwise how would we sense him? Perhaps he is connected to a distant branch of my line that has suddenly become more powerful."
Verity looked up. "I suppose that could be true. Vampire blood ties run deep."
"Blood is a very influential tool for a Vampire. It can control the fates of those turned and command them to our will." Elias studied her closely. "Your blood is also very powerful. I wonder . . . ?"
"What?"
Elias patted her knee. "You are so impatient, my lady."
"That is because I have only a human life span to enjoy, whereas you have immortality."
Elias sat forward until he barely had to do more than whisper. "When we were fighting Queen Anne and George Boleyn, I was held captive on the altar of a Druid stone circle."
"And?"
"Lord Christopher Ellis and I shared blood, but not in the common way. We had both been attacked and were bleeding." He hesitated. "I have told no one else this. Our blood mingled on the altar and was absorbed into the stone. Ever since then I have had a familial connection with Lord Christopher and his son, Nicholas."
"A Vampire connection?"
"Indeed."
"I can understand why you would not wish to share this particular news with your peers. But what does it have to do with our current problem?"
Elias hesitated. "I wondered if such a connection would help Sir Rhys."
"What exactly do you mean?"
"The combination of my blood and your Llewellyn blood should be enough to overpower the influence of any other Vampire."
Verity contemplated Elias's serious face. "And how would we achieve such a thing?"
"By sharing our blood with Sir Rhys on the altar in the stone circle."
"But you have already taken his blood."
"Clearly that is not a strong enough link." Elias's cold expression intensified. "We must break this Vampire's hold over all of us."
Verity tried to think. "I'd have to consult with the Elders to see if such a thing is possible. You are probably the only Vampire they would allow into the circle." She hesitated. "We'd also have to convince Rhys that it is a good idea."
Elias rose and bowed. "I'll leave that part to you, my lady."
Somehow Verity doubted it would be quite that simple, but at least she had a purpose now, even if it seemed too fantastical to be true. The first thing she needed to do was speak to Mistress Hopkins about the possibility of sharing blood on the sacred altar. If the Druid Elders permitted it, she would then need to persuade Rhys that it was a good idea.
She mounted her horse and headed out, her mind both busy and conflicted. Elias thought Rhys was enamored of her, but she could not allow herself to think like that. All she could do was appeal to Rhys's sense of honor and his desire to destroy the Vampire who threatened the queen.
She ignored the suspicion that she just wanted to see him again. As his comrade-in-arms, she had a perfect right to check that he was no longer angry with her and to ask for his help.
Rhys lay on his bed and contemplated the darkness beyond his open window. His tiny chamber was in the eaves of the building and had retained all the heat of the day. He'd stripped down to his undergarments, but he was still warm. A single candle flickered on the table beside him, but he didn't really need the light. After his grueling ride back, he'd sent his apologies to the king's controller and retired to his chamber for some much-needed rest.
He was supposed to be joining a band of Druids patrolling the palace gardens, but he wasn't sure he could gather the necessary strength. The church bell sounded nine times and he realized he was already too late. How could he face his fellow Druids with the stench of Vampire clinging to him and his temper so uncertain that he didn't know what he would kill? Would they notice the change in him? Verity had, but then she was a female---and a Llewellyn female at that.
His lips curved into an unwilling smile as he remembered her shooting the crossbow, her face serious and her aim perfect to disable her opponent. Even as he'd struggled with his pain he'd been so proud of her. She truly was an amazing woman.
He heard footsteps outside his door and went still, one hand reaching for the dagger beneath his pillow. A soft knock had him swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up.
"Come in."
The door opened and a slight male figure slipped inside. Rhys smelled honey and relaxed his stance. "My lady."
Her gaze swept his naked chest and her cheeks reddened. "Did I wake you?"
"Not at all." He rubbed a hand through his disheveled hair. "Is something wrong?" She hesitated and he patted the bed. "Please---sit down."
Her hair was braided tightly to her head with the long plait tucked inside the back of her cloak. He wanted to place her in the center of his bed and slowly untie her hair, comb his fingers through it, and spread it over his pillow before he spread her legs and . . .
And she didn't want him.
The moment she sat down on his bed, he got up and moved to the window ledge and looked at her inquiringly.
She stared at his bare feet. "I wanted to see if you were all right."
"Did you fear I might run away?"
"No. I never thought you a coward."
"Thank you for that, at least." He studied her carefully. "I fear I am not used to being bested by a Vampire."
"Or a woman."
He chuckled. "You did surprise me. I underestimated you."
"That's not quite true. You gave me the opportunity to prove my worth, which most men of my acquaintance would never have done."
"You are a Llewellyn."
"That's one of the reasons I came here tonight. I had a letter from my grandfather ordering me to come home." She reached into her pocket and leaned forward to hand him an unsealed letter. "I have written back. I wanted you to read what I said."
He held on to the letter but didn't open it. "Surely this is between you and your grandsire?"
"I told him about the mark of Awen. I had to mention you, and I wanted to make sure I didn't say anything you wouldn't wish him to know."
"That was very thoughtful of you." He opened the letter and slowly read the contents. When he finished he handed it back to her. "You were more than generous in your praise of me. I'm not sure I deserve it."
She smiled at him and he drank in the sight like a starving man. "You deserve every word."
He found himself smiling back at her. "Why else did you come here?"
She looked down at the letter before folding it and putting it back in her pocket. "As I said, I wanted to see if you were all right."
"Nothing else?" He couldn't read her as well as he could Rosalind, but he was learning to pay attention to the small things, to the signs that she had more to say and more to give him.
"This is more difficult than I thought," she murmured.
"What is?"
She angled her head to one side and studied him. "To ask for your help."
He tried to ignore the sudden leap of excitement in his gut. "You must know I am your willing slave."
"I know that you are one of the most stubborn men I have ever met." She shifted on the bed and he watched her carefully. "You delight in vexing me . . ."
"Not on every count. Only when I believe you are in danger." He took a deep breath. "In truth, Verity, I---"
She kept talking. ". . . which makes me feel a little foolish."
His anticipation sharpened. He was too sore at heart to argue with her tonight. "What exactly do you want? I've already told you that I want you in my bed."
She frowned at him. "I wasn't thinking about that at all."
Rhys held her gaze. "Then think on it now."
She looked at his chest and licked her lips. "I'm ashamed for even imagining I could persuade you to do anything without you confusing me." She shook her head. "You make it all seem so simple. But I can't even tell you how I feel without making a muddle of it. It would have been much better if you were asleep."
His body responded before his mind worked out quite what she was saying, and his prick thickened. "What would you do if I was asleep?"
She nibbled on her lower lip. "Get into your bed and seduce you?" She slowly looked at him and he held her gaze. "Or just tell you how I really feel."
He stood up and crossed to the bed. Her blue eyes widened as he lay down and stretched out. "And how do you know that I am not asleep right now?" He leaned over and blew out the candle, plunging the small room into darkness. "I promise you I will not say a word."
He lay still and waited to see what she would do. If she ran, he wouldn't stop her.
The silence lengthened and he closed his eyes. When at last her hand came to rest on his knee, he bit down slowly on his lip.
Verity stared dubiously at his outline in the darkness. "Rhys?" she whispered.
He said nothing and she flexed her fingers on his knee. Could she do this? Could she share herself with him? If her grandfather insisted that she return home, it might be her last chance to touch Rhys. And she yearned to touch him so badly. Had she really come to his room to tell him about the potential new plan to defeat Janus, or had she wanted this all along? She took a deep breath.
"I dream about you. And in my dreams you truly are my lover and you welcome me to your bed. There is nothing between us but love. I yearn to hold you in my arms and kiss away every hurt you have ever suffered."
He still didn't speak, his breathing slow and even. She allowed her hand to travel from his knee to his hip and then rested it on the flat of his muscled stomach. She circled his belly and then his rib cage. He bit back a groan as her fingers grazed one of his nipples.
"Oh, Rhys," she whispered, "I have longed to tell you how beautiful you are, my wounded warrior."
Her fingers traced his bandaged shoulder and then reached his face. She touched his nose and his forehead, the curve of his lips and his closed eyes. She learned him as she'd always wanted to and he simply let her. Tears crowded her throat.
"I've always wanted to do this. To care for you as if I had the right. But it's only possible in my dreams."
She moved again in the darkness and straddled his lap, her thighs now enclosing his. He lay still as clothing rustled and fell away and then she leaned over him, her naked breasts soft against his chest, her unbound hair drifting over his warm skin.
His shaft kicked up against his underclothes, seeking her, but she didn't free him quite yet. This was her dream, not his, and at this moment she knew in her soul that he would willingly follow her anywhere she led him.
She nuzzled his ear and then bit the lobe. "I want to give you pleasure and take my own, without worrying what you will think of me on the morrow."
She kissed his lips and he opened his mouth and let her take charge, first returning the languorous thrust of her tongue, then sighing at the little kisses she sprinkled over his face, his neck, and his chest. She tried to touch him gently and carefully, so that he would know how much he meant to her, how much she cared.
She licked his nipple and his breath hissed out. His stomach muscles tightened as she dropped one of her hands to his groin and slid it inside his linen to discover his straining cock. She kissed him there too, kisses, licks, and nips that made his hips rise from the bed in mute appeal for her to take his prick---to take all of him.
She pulled down his undergarments and he helped her take them completely off. She straddled him again and wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft.
Her own anticipation of what was to come had already prepared her for him. She positioned the crown of his cock at her entrance and guided him inside the first inch. He groaned at her tightness and rocked against her.
"Help me," she whispered.
His finger settled over her bud and he circled and flicked it until she was rising and falling to his touch, taking him deeper with every roll of her hips. She opened to him inch by slow inch and took his shaft inside her. She could hardly see him, but his sighs and the slick, wet sounds of their bodies made everything as clear to her as if burning torches surrounded them.
When she sank down on him completely, he removed his hand and rested it on her hip. She started to ride him and he seemed to forget about keeping quiet, although the sounds he made were scarcely eloquent. He set his mouth on her breast and suckled, making her gasp his name. Pleasure gathered and she ground herself against him, tightening around him like a vise.
His fingers dug into her hipbone and he held her down over him as he emptied his seed high inside her and his climax joined hers. She collapsed forward, her mouth meeting his, and he kissed her and moved against her until she climaxed yet again. She cried out and he held her close, her head on his uninjured shoulder and her legs wrapped around his. In her mind there was nowhere else she wished to be. She wished she could have this dream forever.
Rhys's last thought, as he fell asleep, was very clear. Verity was the love he had been waiting for. He had been a fool not to tell her how he felt sooner. In the morning he would tell her, and one day, if he survived the Vampire, he would ask for her hand in marriage.
But when he woke up, Verity had gone. Rhys rolled onto his stomach and slammed his right fist into his pillow. He'd missed his opportunity and would have to wait until the next time he and Verity were alone. Then he would tell her how much he loved her---and make sure she believed him.
"Lady Verity." Verity startled as Rhys came up behind her and hastily stuffed the note from Mistress Hopkins into her hanging pocket.
"Sir Rhys."
He bowed, but there was a grim set to his mouth that made her think he wasn't particularly pleased to see her. She realized that might be because her conscience was not unsullied and so she made herself smile at him.
"Are you free, my lady? There are some things I wish to discuss with you."
"Right now?" Verity glanced distractedly around the queen's busy chambers. "We are preparing to remove with the queen to Hampton Court for her lying-in."
Rhys leaned against the doorframe and blocked her retreat. "When I saw Mistress Hopkins this morning, she asked me if you had received her message about the Druid Elders consenting to your plan." He paused. "I was not aware there was a plan. When did you intend to enlighten me?"
Verity contemplated his implacable expression and put down the pile of swaddling bands she was holding. "It isn't exactly my plan. It was more Elias's idea." He didn't move an inch and she was suddenly aware of the intimidating strength of his body, a body that she had touched intimately only a few nights ago and had avoided ever since.
"Now that the Elders have given permission, I must find Elias and then we will explain it to you."
"I would prefer that you explain now."
She met his hard stare head-on. "I'm sorry, Sir Rhys. I can't do that. However, you are more than welcome to come and find Elias with me."
In truth she'd rather talk to Elias first, but she suspected she would be unable to prevent Rhys from accompanying her. Best to give in on this point, as they had far greater need of his cooperation with their plan.
Verity turned to find that Lady Rochford was watching them and walked toward her. "I need to speak with my cousin for a moment, my lady. He has brought me news from home."
"I do hope your grandfather isn't sick?" Lady Rochford pretended to look concerned. "He is well remembered here at court."
"I believe Sir John is in excellent health. This news concerns my cousin Rosalind. Do you remember her?"
Verity tried not to recoil as Lady Rochford's eyes flashed red. "How could I forget dear, sweet Rosalind. Whatever did happen to her?"
"That is what I hope to find out." Verity curtsied and turned to Rhys, who was still leaning against the doorjamb. "Shall we find somewhere a little quieter to talk, Cousin?" She looked back at Lady Rochford. "I will not be long."
Verity placed her hand on Rhys's leaf green sleeve and walked away from the Vampire.
Rhys patted her fingers. "You certainly have cowed Lady Rochford."
"I don't think I have," Verity said thoughtfully. "She is far too scared of Janus to care about me."
"Scared of whom?" Olivia joined them, her blue eyes full of curiosity. She held her skirts in her hand and was out of breath. "Lady Rochford told me to spy on you, so I'm coming along."
"You are not," said Verity.
Olivia ignored Verity and batted her eyelashes at Rhys. "May I come with you, Sir Rhys? I promise not to be in the way."
"Why not? I assume you know all about this secret plan as well, don't you?" Rhys said grimly.
"She knows nothing, Sir Rhys. I am trying---"
"Thank you, Rhys." Olivia flashed Verity a triumphant smile and took Rhys's other arm. She chattered to him as they walked, leaving Verity feeling left out. She tried to disengage her hand from Rhys's, but he refused to let her go. She settled for staring straight ahead of her and ignoring Olivia's chatter.
"Did Lady Verity tell you that the queen seems frailer than ever, Sir Rhys?"
Rhys glanced down at Verity before replying. "It seems that Lady Verity tells me only what she wants me to hear."
Verity bit down on her lip and fought an impulse to stamp on Rhys's foot.
"Then you must be glad I am there with the queen as well." Olivia squeezed Rhys's bad arm and he winced. "I am always available to help---you know that,"
"We all need to work together to defeat this Vampire," Rhys added, his gaze again on Verity.
She gave in to the temptation to glare at him. "Which is why we need to come up with a plan to defeat him once and for all."
"I couldn't agree more, my lady. Let's find Elias and settle this, shall we?" Rhys growled.
Elias appeared ahead of them, his smile all for Verity. "My lady, are you well?"
"Indeed I am, Master Warner." Elias looked pointedly at Rhys and Olivia as if wishing them gone. "Sir Rhys is most anxious to hear about your plan."
Elias paused. "My plan?"
Rhys pushed past Elias and headed for a small outbuilding next to the stables. "So neither one of you wishes to admit to scheming behind my back."
"Scheming, Sir Rhys?" Elias looked positively shocked.
"Aye, scheming." Rhys opened the door and glared at them both. "Something that comes quite naturally to you, Elias. I had hoped my lady was above it, however."
Verity felt her skin heat and heard Olivia's quiet chuckle. "I did what was necessary, Sir Rhys."
Rhys leaned up against a bench. "Which was what, exactly?"
Verity took a deep breath. "The Druid Elders will allow us inside the stone circle without penalty."
"That is excellent news," Elias said. "Do they say when we may attempt it?"
"As long as it isn't the night of a festival, we should be fine."
"Do we have to give them a specific date?" Elias frowned. "I would hate to enter the circle and anger your deities. I've seen what can happen to those who offend them."
"Wait." Rhys held up his hand. "What are you talking about?"
Verity turned to him. "We had an idea about how to help you." Rhys said nothing, so she continued. "Elias and I believe that if we share our blood with you, we might be able to weaken the Vampire's hold."
Rhys stared at her for a long moment. "You're suggesting I take more Vampire blood inside me?"
His tone indicated that he thought she'd run mad, but she persevered. "Not just Elias's blood, but mine as well."
"And how do you intend I do that?" Rhys leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you imagine I am capable of drinking your blood? Or is Elias going to drain you dry, then drink from me and replace my blood with his own? Don't you understand that you would be dead and I would be turned into a Vampire?"
Verity looked pointedly at Rhys and fought an impulse to slap his face. Did he really think her so brainless?
Elias cleared his throat. "I don't intend to drink blood from either of you. Do you remember what happened to Lord Christopher in the stone circle?"
"Aye, after Anne Boleyn tried to rip out his throat, he almost bled to death. My gods and the Elders saved him. What does that have to do with what you are proposing?"
"My blood was also spilled that night and it sank into the altar stone with Lord Christopher's." Elias grimaced. "I have been blood-linked to Lord Christopher ever since."
"That isn't possible," Olivia gasped.
"It isn't possible for Rosalind to be linked to Christopher either, but it happened." Elias paused. "You have met their son, Nicholas, many times, Sir Rhys. You know he is 'unusual.'"
Rhys slowly looked up. "He spoke of you. Do you have a link with him as well?"
Elias nodded and Rhys shook his head. "This makes no sense. You want the three of us to mix our blood over the altar?"
Verity touched his arm. "Don't you see? There is magic in the stones. It will be as if our blood is mingled inside of us. If we succeed in strengthening your blood, Janus won't be able to take you over completely."
"But it's not about me, is it? We're supposed to be saving the queen and her child. What if our attempt to share blood goes horribly wrong? That will leave the queen with no one to protect her."
"I will protect her," Olivia said eagerly.
"I'm sure you will," Rhys answered. "But you are not strong enough yet to defeat such a Vampire. We all need to play our parts and then we will destroy this monster together."
"I think it is already too late for the queen," Elias said somberly. "She has been in the Vampire's thrall for far longer than you have, Sir Rhys. Do you truly believe she has the strength left to fight?"
Frustration rose in Verity and she spun around to confront Elias. "You must not say that! There is still hope---there is always hope."
Rhys took her hand. "If the queen is feeling as feeble as I do, I fear for her mortal soul."
Elias nodded. "I suspect she would not have survived this long had not Janus been keeping her alive."
"Why?" Verity whispered.
"Perhaps Lord Thomas Seymour insisted she not be killed," Elias answered. "Or perhaps his master has his own reasons for wanting her alive."
"Lord Thomas is her brother. How can he allow such a thing to happen? How can he bear to watch his own sister fade away?"
"Because she carries the king's heir," Rhys said. "And Janus and Lord Thomas gain more power by controlling the heir to the throne than by controlling the queen. She is, unfortunately, expendable."
Verity pulled out of his grasp. "We can save the queen. We have to save her. Do all men think women are so disposable?"
"That's not what we meant, my lady," Rhys said gently. "But sometimes---"
"Sometimes we must not give up!" Verity glared at him and was pleased for once to see that Olivia looked equally insulted. "If you share blood with us, and it is successful, mayhap we can do the same thing for the queen and protect her too."
Rhys drew back. "I haven't agreed to share blood with either of you yet."
It was too much for Verity. "Oh, for the love of God, Rhys, can't you share even that much of yourself?"
She swung around and headed for the door, slamming it behind her. The warm air made her feel stifled and she veered off the path and turned down toward the river. She reached one of the streams that eventually fed into the Thames and sat down at the edge of the bank. She knew she was supposed to go back to the queen, but she had no inclination to do so.
With a groan, she drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. What had possessed her to take issue with Rhys like that in front of Elias and Olivia? Especially Olivia, who by now would be fawning over Rhys and telling him how wonderful he was and how Verity was not good enough for him. Not that Olivia needed to tell him that. Verity already knew her place in Rhys's life.
After another series of deep, calming breaths, she kicked off her shoes and rolled her stockings down. The water in the stream looked far too inviting to miss the opportunity of dipping her feet. She was already due for a scolding from Lady Rochford or even the queen, so she might as well enjoy her moment of freedom.
Rhys stared at the door, which was still reverberating from Verity's exit. He felt equally shaken himself. What in God's name had she meant?
Olivia touched his hand. "Lady Verity has a very bad temper, doesn't she?"
"She . . ." Rhys realized he had no intention of discussing Verity with Olivia. "She had her reasons."
Elias moved toward the door. "Should I go after her? Even during daylight it is unwise for her to be alone."
"I'll find her," Rhys said. "After all, the fault was mine." He met Elias's surprisingly sympathetic gaze. "Of course I agree to share our blood. I suggest we take Olivia along with us to stand watch."
"That is an excellent idea, Sir Rhys." Elias looked at Olivia. "Your connection with me and the Ellis family should help you recognize if any of us are in danger---and you will be able to gauge how much blood each person can afford to share."
"I'd be glad to help," Olivia said firmly. She glanced up at Rhys. "I could also help you find Lady Verity."
Elias stirred. "I think it would be better if you went back to Lady Rochford and told her some tale about Lady Verity being too upset to return because of the news she received." He looked at Rhys. "Is it widely known that Lady Rosalind is carrying another child?"
Rhys tried to gather his thoughts. "I'm not sure."
"Would it hurt for Olivia to mention that there is a suspicion of it to Lady Rochford?"
"I don't see why it would," Rhys muttered. "The Vampire community seems all too well-informed about everything these days."
Elias paused at the door. "Ah, that reminds me. I understand that Janus was the first to assert that Lady Verity bore the mark of Awen."
Rhys went still. "By all that's holy, how would he know that?"
"I have no idea, but it does raise some interesting questions, does it not?" Elias paused. "Is it possible that there is a traitor among the Druids?"
"That is always possible. I will have to write to Sir John Llewellyn and tell him to be on his guard." Rhys eyed the door again, aware that every passing moment meant Verity was farther away from him.
Elias opened the door and Olivia, after an anxious glance back at Rhys, left first. Rhys followed her and shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun in the vain hope that he might see a sign of Verity.
"Lady Verity is by the stream. You will see where she left the path, pushed through the bushes, and headed down to her left," Elias said quietly.
"Thank you." Rhys clasped the Vampire on the shoulder. "I'll take care of her."
"I know you will. You just have to convince her of that." Elias hesitated. "I believe she loves you, Sir Rhys. But like most human females, she is wary of being hurt, and you have championed Lady Rosalind far too well and for far too long."
Rhys glared at Elias for a long moment. "Are you now a wise woman who tells fortunes and sells love potions?"
Elias smiled. "I've lived for over four hundred years. Even I have noticed a few things about women that never change. They wish to be first in their lover's eyes, not forever competing against a fantasy."
"I know that!" Rhys stopped and lowered his voice again. "I will find her and make sure she is safe."
Elias's smile became even wider. "Of course you will, and I wish you good luck. One other thing I have noticed is that human females, particularly the Llewellyn kind, are very stubborn."
Rhys headed off along the path and saw the place where Verity had gone down the bank toward the stream. A knot of gold ribbon from her sleeve decorated one of the gorse bushes and he picked it up and tucked it inside his doublet. Eventually he spied her through the trees. She sat beside the stream, her head bent and her hood discarded along with her stockings and shoes.
He worked his way over to her. She didn't look up when he sat down beside her, but after a while she glanced at him.
"I suppose you want me to apologize for what I said."
"No apology is necessary. You were right. I know I have been unable to give my heart until now."
"Until now?" She kicked her feet in the water, splashing his brown hose.
He took her clenched fist and slowly unfolded her fingers until her hand lay quietly in his. "The other night, why did you come to my room, truly?"
"Do you now think I came to seduce you so that you would do my bidding and agree to share our blood?"
"Did you seduce me? I was asleep, remember, and having a very pleasurable dream."
She scowled at him. "You were not."
"I might have been."
"Please don't make me remember that night. The things I said---I feel so foolish. I know it meant nothing to you."
He frowned. "When did you decide that you meant nothing to me?"
Her smile was bittersweet. "When I was about fourteen and I saw the way you looked at Rosalind."
"I thought she would marry me. Her grandsire was in favor of the match and I never dreamed . . ." Rhys stopped talking and stared at the rushing water.
"You never expected her to take up with a Druid slayer. You had a right to be angry, Rhys."
"But no right to take that anger out on you."
She half turned to look at him. "Whatever do you mean?"
"When Rosalind chose Christopher over me, I decided I was done with love. It was too painful." He tried to smile. "As I said, there is no need for you to apologize to me. You were right. I have avoided sharing my heart ever since."
"No, I was unfair. You have destroyed many Vampires and kept the Tudors safe---that is no small achievement."
He shrugged. "A man has to fill the empty space he created in his life with something. But I have been a fool. Your presence here at court has taught me that."
"My presence?"
He kissed the center of her palm. "You have shown me that I am ready to share my heart again." She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn't let her. "I don't want you to be Rosalind, cariad. I just want you to be yourself."
"But I'll always be second best."
"Why do you think that?" he said gently. "Do you not believe I love you?"
Her eyes widened. "No. I never thought you would love me."
He blinked at her. "Then why did you share yourself with me?"
"Because . . ." She shook her head. "I was weak. I wanted to have you, even if that was all there could be between us."
"And you assumed that would be enough for me?"
"Yes, because you are still in love with Rosalind."
He took both her hands in his. "But I'm not. I love you, Verity." He waited for her to say something, but she just stared at him. "Can you not believe me?" Rhys tried not to let his disappointment show, but it was difficult. "Why would I say such things if I didn't mean them?"
"I don't know."
He stared at her. Wasn't she supposed to tell him that she loved him back? He knew she did---didn't she?
She squeezed his hands. "Rhys, don't look at me like that, please. I'll have to think about what you said. It just seems so sudden . . ."
He supposed he had to allow her that. His realization that she had replaced Rosalind in his heart had been sudden. Perhaps she just needed time to come to terms with it.
"I'm not going to change my mind, Verity. I trust that in time you will come to believe me." She still looked a little dazed and so he kept talking. "And when you do, I will ask your grandfather for your hand in marriage."
She yanked her hands out of his grip and scrambled to her feet. "I don't want to get married."
"Why not?"
A look of revulsion crossed her face. "I just don't."
Rhys tried to hold his frustration in check. "Just think about it, first. I believe we would suit. And what if there is a child?"
Her face blanched and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh no."
With a stifled sound, she ran away from him, her wet footprints gradually fading in the heat of the sun. Rhys stared after her until she disappeared from sight. He realized she'd left her shoes, stockings, and hood behind and went to pick them up.
Was she already with child? It was the only reason he could think of for her sudden panic. Frustration rose in his gut. Didn't she understand what he'd told her at all? He loved her! Wasn't that enough? Would his love ever be enough for a woman he had set his heart on?
"Don't you think it is time we talked to the queen?" Olivia asked. She'd changed out of her women's clothing into her male attire and looked far more comfortable than Verity was in her silk skirts and thick petticoats.
Verity looked at Elias. She had arranged to meet with the Vampires in the ruined bathhouse near the chapel. It was already dark, although the banked heat from the day still lingered in the air and in the stones.
Elias looked thoughtful. "Do you think she will listen to you?"
"Mayhap," Olivia said. "If we can persuade her that her life is in danger without mentioning Vampires, we might succeed."
Verity looked at Olivia. "But Queen Jane doesn't encourage familiarity from her ladies. She only really listens to Lady Mary and Lady Rochford."
"That is true," Olivia said. "What if you talked to the king instead, Lady Verity?"
"I can certainly try. Lord Thomas Seymour seems to have the king's ear at the moment, so I'll have to be careful not to arouse his suspicions." She brightened. "Perhaps I can word my request in a way that won't alarm the king and will keep the majority of the courtiers out of Queen Jane's presence."
Elias stood up and paced the broken mosaic floor, his hands behind his back. "I wonder if we can persuade Lady Rochford onto our side instead."
"Lady Rochford?" Verity grimaced. "She dislikes me intensely."
"That is so. Mayhap we can persuade her through Olivia."
"How?" Verity said simply.
"You said she is terrified of this Vampire."
"That's true." Olivia nodded.
"Then maybe there is a way to turn her fears to our advantage." Elias smiled and Verity shivered. "I will think on it."
"And in the meantime, I'll speak to the king," Verity said far more bravely than she felt. "In fact, I'll go and seek an audience with him right away."
"I'll accompany you to the king's chambers, my lady. I know of several ways to enter that are more discreet than the usual." Elias bowed to Olivia, who disappeared, and then offered his arm to Verity. He patted her hand. "Be careful, Lady Verity. The king's temper is most uncertain at the moment."
"I am aware of that." Verity forced herself to smile. "He is anxious about this business of an heir."
"Indeed."
Verity glanced up at Elias's face as they walked through the deserted gardens and back to the well-lit palace. "Do you have children, Elias?"
"None that I know of still living, my lady. Obviously, there are those whom I have turned, but despite our blood connection I would not consider them my true family."
"It must be hard to live for so long," Verity mused, then hastily collected herself. "I'm sorry, Elias, I did not mean . . ."
Elias smiled at her. "Immortality has many sides to it, my lady, not all of them pleasant. But I fancy it is preferable to being beheaded by a slayer and left out to die in the daylight."
Verity found herself smiling back at him. In all her imaginings she had never thought she'd make friends with a Vampire, let alone feel some sympathy for him.
Elias opened a side door that led directly into the king's private inner chambers and nodded at the solitary guard. "Please tell His Majesty that Lady Verity Llewellyn wishes to speak with him on a matter of some urgency."
He bowed to Verity. "Remember, if you feel any sense that the king is being influenced by Vampire magic, I suggest you withdraw your suggestions and leave quietly."
"I will, Master Warner." Verity curtsied. "Thank you for your help."
"You are more than welcome, my lady." Elias bowed once more and left Verity alone in the dark paneled entrance hall.
It took but a moment for one of the king's gentlemen of the bedchamber to appear and smile at her appreciatively. "My lady? The king will see you in his bedchamber."
"Thank you."
Verity ignored the suggestive leer on the man's face, pulled her cloak more tightly around herself, and followed him through a succession of deserted anterooms. She guessed the king's gentleman assumed she was here for more lascivious purposes than warning the king about Vampires and could only hope he was discreet.
She hurried past the open doorway of a room where several men lounged around playing cards or drinking. One of the men called out to her and made a crude remark, but she ignored him. She thought she caught a glimpse of Rhys's distinctive auburn head bent over a harp, but she couldn't be sure.
At last they reached another door watched over by a royal guard. Verity waited while her companion banged on the door and then went in without her. A moment later he reappeared and beckoned her forward.
"You may enter, my lady."
Verity swallowed hard and stepped through the doorway. King Henry was attired in only his nightshirt and a heavy open-fronted embroidered robe worn over it. He sat in a massive oak chair by the empty fireplace and beckoned her forward.
"Lady Verity."
Verity sank into a deep curtsy and then crossed the room to the king. He held out his hand and she curtsied again and kissed his fat ringed fingers.
"I apologize for disturbing you, sire, but there is an important matter I wish to discuss with you."
"And what might that be, my lady?" The king looked suspiciously around his shadowed bedchamber. "Don't tell me that those cursed Vampires are about to attack me again."
"No, sire." Verity hesitated. "I am more concerned about the queen."
The king's ruddy complexion went purple and his hands clenched on the arms of his chair. "The queen?"
"I fear there are Vampires around her who mean her harm."
"Then they must be stopped immediately!"
Verity winced at the king's roar. "I know that, sire, and I intend to deal with them." She took a deep breath. "Have you thought about removing the queen to Hampton Court more promptly, sire? That would keep her away from the majority of the court, and I will be able to guard her more closely."
King Henry scowled. "Have you spoken of this matter to the queen?"
"No, sire. I did not wish to worry her. I thought to seek your advice first."
"Do not tell her anything unless you absolutely must." The king got slowly to his feet and paced in front of the fireplace. "She needs all her strength to deliver my son into this world."
"Then you will persuade her to leave for Hampton Court immediately, sire?"
The king stared down at her. "Persuade her? I am the king. I will command her obedience." He pointed his finger at Verity. "And you will kill every single one of those cursed Vampires who threatens her, or I will have your head. Do you understand me?"
Verity gulped and dropped into another curtsy. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"I will speak to the controller of the queen's household and make sure that things move more speedily. Is there anything else?"
Verity considered the king. "Might I also suggest that you limit those who are allowed to visit her, sire?"
"Who exactly are you concerned about, Lady Verity?"
"The Seymour family and their retinue."
"You wish me to stop the queen from seeing her own family?"
"Not stop, sire, merely limit the time they spend with the queen, particularly at night."
"When the Vampires come out."
"Exactly, sire."
The king sat back down. "You will tell me which members of the Seymour family you suspect."
Verity hesitated. "I fear you won't believe me, sire."
The king's brows drew together. "Are you suggesting that one of the Seymours is a Vampire?"
"No, sire." At least that was true and avoided delving into the peculiar bond Lord Thomas Seymour had with Janus. "But I believe they might be harboring a dangerous Vampire in their retinue."
"Then I will order them to dismiss all their servants."
"Which might panic the Vampire into striking out against the queen," Verity said. "Could we not keep this between us?" She met the king's hard stare. "I swear we will defeat this Vampire."
"It seems that I have no choice but to trust you, Lady Verity, but do not fail me."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." She curtsied, her hand on her heart. "I promise I will die myself before I allow the queen or your child to be harmed in any way."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, my lady. I would hate to see the death of such a beautiful woman as yourself." King Henry gestured at her to rise. "We will keep this between ourselves. Good night, my lady."
"Good night, Your Majesty."
"Does it not bother you?"
Rhys glanced up from his harp and found himself facing the fair-haired Welshman he'd fought---the Vampire from Lord Thomas Seymour's retinue.
"I beg your pardon?"
"That the king is busy swiving your sweetheart?"
Rhys slowly put down his harp, all his senses on alert. His shoulder ached like the devil. Had this Vampire been made by the same master? Did blood call to blood?
"I have no sweetheart, and the king may swive whom he pleases."
"She means nothing to you, then?"
Rhys stood up and realized that his opponent was slightly shorter than he. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"Lady Verity Llewellyn, as she calls herself. She is a luscious armful, is she not?"
"I prefer not to discuss the lady in your foul presence."
For some reason the Vampire seemed to find that amusing. He switched into Welsh. "That lady is currently in the king's bedchamber. Didn't you see her pass by?" The Vampire grinned, showing the tips of his fangs. "I wonder whether she pretends to enjoy the king fucking her and what she hopes to gain from it."
Although they were far from alone in the king's withdrawing room, Rhys brought his dagger up. "Do not speak of my lady so."
"Ah, now she is your lady. Your wanton, more like. Did she grow tired of you, Vampire slayer, and offer herself to the king?"
Rhys drew back his hand to strike, but the Vampire moved even faster and set his fingers over the wound on Rhys's left shoulder. Rhys fought a gasp as pain surged through his body.
"You cannot fight me." The Vampire laughed and released Rhys. His fingers were now bloody and he licked them. "You are already doomed."
Before Rhys could respond, the Vampire disappeared. Rhys looked around the room, but no one seemed to have noticed anything untoward. He reached up to touch his left shoulder and winced.
Coldness settled in his gut as he contemplated his future. It seemed his death was almost assured. The weakness he was suffering would either make him vulnerable in a fight or kill him outright. He took a deep breath. Whatever happened, it was imperative that he sort things out with Verity. And he might not have much time left to do it.
If Verity was indeed with the king, he knew it could only be on Druid business. But in that case, why hadn't she consulted him?
He smiled at his own indignation. Because she was avoiding him, that was why. He put his harp away and picked up his cloak. He took up an unobtrusive position in the entrance hall to the king's chambers, which was mercifully quiet at night. If Verity was here with the king, he would wait for her to emerge and follow her back to her quarters.
"Lady Verity."
Verity turned and bumped right into Rhys. He put out his hand and steadied her---also preventing her flight. She hadn't seen him for two days, but it still wasn't enough time for her to be ready to face him. She stared at his brown doublet and refused to look up. He loosened his grip and she made an attempt to get past him, but he wrapped his arm around her and maneuvered her back against the stone wall.
She'd left the king and headed straight to the queen's chapel to pray for the safety of the king's child and of his wife. Rhys's appearance at the back of the church made her regret her sudden piety. Had he seen her at the king's chambers and followed her out? It seemed more than likely.
Rhys's body now formed a solid wall between her and the light of the candles in the vestibule. He placed his right hand on the wall just beside her head, cutting off her exit to the door.
"You will talk to me, my lady." His tone was as implacable as his stance.
"And what if I have nothing to say?"
"Then I will do the talking." He paused long enough to hear her objections, but she offered him none. "Do you carry my child?"
Recognizing defeat, she slumped back against the wall. "Not as far as I know."
"Lughnasadh was some time ago; surely by now---?"
"I'm not worried about what happened between us at the festival."
"Obviously, but that has nothing to do with the possibility of you being with child."
She raised her face to meet his gaze and found to her surprise that he didn't look angry at all, merely patient and understanding. Somehow that didn't make her feel any better.
"I didn't drink the potion to enhance my fertility, but the one to prevent it."
He studied her carefully. "Then why did you run away from me?"
"Because of the other night we spent together, when I came to your room."
"Ah, now you are making sense." Rhys nodded. "You cannot know if you are with child yet. It is too soon." He smoothed his thumb over her furrowed forehead. "You will tell me when you know for sure."
"Tell you what?" Verity narrowed her eyes. "Why are you suddenly being so reasonable, Sir Rhys?"
"Because you cannot reveal what you do not know." He kissed her nose. "I'm quite willing to wait."
"Wait for what?"
"To see whether we need to marry."
She glared at him. "But I do not want to marry you."
"Why not?"
His reasonable tone was beginning to irk her. "Because I do not wish to marry anyone."
"But if there is a child to consider---"
She pressed her fingers to his lips. "I will not be forced into another marriage."
He wrapped his strong fingers around her wrist and drew her hand away. "Forced? I am not forcing you. But surely you would not wish to bear a child alone?"
"Why not? It has to be better than being made to marry a man who . . ."
"Who what?"
"Who doesn't really want me." She pushed at his chest and he finally let her move past him.
"Verity, I've already told you that I love you." He leaned back against the wall and considered her. "Is this argument really about me at all?"
She raised her chin at him. "What do you mean?"
"You told me that your parents forced you to marry Gareth."
Verity wrapped her arms around herself. "They did."
"Is that why you are wary of marrying again?"
"Wouldn't you be?" She sent him a challenging glare, but he seemed oblivious to her hostility.
"There must be more to it than that." Rhys angled his head to one side and studied her. "It isn't usual for a woman to be forced to marry after Beltane---unless she is with child."
Verity walked away from him and stared blindly up at the small statue of the Madonna and child that graced the chapel wall.
"Verity, were you---?"
She refused to turn around and confront him. It was far too painful. "I thought I was with child. It came to naught and by then it was too late. I was married."
"Ah, love." She flinched as his hands descended on her shoulders and he turned her into his embrace. She didn't allow herself to relax against him, although she desperately wanted to.
She struggled to free herself and again he let her go. The compassion on his face made her want to weep, but she'd done enough of that over the years. She needed to be strong. "Now do you understand why I will never marry?"
"I understand why you panicked and ran away from me."
"How so?"
"Because you are afraid of making the same mistakes again."
"So you'll leave me alone?" she said hopefully.
He half smiled. "I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because I love you, and I'm not Gareth, and you're not sixteen anymore." He bowed to her. "You're a strong woman, Verity Llewellyn, a woman who can make her own choices without being forced into them by anyone."
"And I've made my choice."
"No, you've panicked yourself into fearing the worst. That's not a choice."
"You cannot tell me what I am thinking."
"Can't I?" He held open the door. "You told me that I was too afraid to share my heart again. Aren't you doing exactly the same thing?"
"It's not the same at all!"
"It is. You just don't want to see it."
She opened her mouth to reply and he held up his hand. "Shall we agree not to argue about this now? We have other things to discuss."
"More important things, I hope?" Verity asked.
His smile made her feel warm. "Nothing is more important than how we feel about each other, but I fear we are at cross-purposes and that nothing I say will change that tonight."
"Or ever," Verity muttered. Why couldn't he understand that they weren't alike at all? He'd been dealing with a fantasy while she'd had to experience the real thing.
"May I walk you back to the queen's apartments?"
"If you must," Verity said ungraciously.
"Oh, I must." He took her hand and placed it on his left arm. "And perhaps you can tell me what you were doing with the king."
"I asked him to move the queen into the seclusion of the Hampton Court lying-in apartments with all speed. I told him that it would be easier to guard the queen there without the rest of the court present."
"Unfortunately her family will still be around her."
"I mentioned that to the king. He was most suspicious of my intentions, but I managed to persuade him not to allow her family to visit her too often or at night."
"You were very brave."
His admiration made her want to preen like a peacock and she had to quell the urge to smile at him. She reminded herself that she no longer had to seek his approval.
"I merely did my job."
They reached the closed doors of the queen's apartments and Verity took her hand off his arm.
"Thank you for your escort, sir."
He smiled at her and bowed low before reclaiming her hand. He kissed her knuckles and then turned her hand over and kissed her palm. The faint rasp of his stubble stirred every inch of her skin and she shivered.
"Are you cold, my lady?"
"No, I'm . . ." She made the mistake of looking into his hazel eyes and was lost in their beauty. She wanted to keep hold of his hand and walk with him up the stairs to bed. But then she might get with child.
"My lady?" he murmured.
She pulled out of his grasp and curtsied. "Good night, Sir Rhys. Perhaps I'll see you in the morning."
He regarded her seriously for a long moment. "There is no 'perhaps' about it, Lady Verity. We will continue to see each other often. I am tired of you running away from me."
She turned and ran up the stairs before she said or did something she might regret.
Verity waited in the shadows thrown by the lofty walls of Hampton Court. It was already past midnight. She studied what little she could see of the unfamiliar grounds with great interest. Compared to the sprawling layout of Richmond Palace, Hampton Court seemed very modern with its towering chimneys and huge kitchens. She had been there for only a day and yet she already felt at home.
Thank the gods the king had listened to her. Hardly a week had passed before the queen was installed in her lying-in chambers at the palace with a small number of her ladies, while the majority of the court remained elsewhere.
Verity had reluctantly come to agree with Rhys and Elias that the Vampire was unlikely to kill Queen Jane outright until the baby was safely born. As a result, she now felt slightly better about leaving the queen for a night while she went to the stone circle with Rhys, Elias, and Olivia.
A sick feeling settled in her stomach. If they did not succeed tonight, would Rhys soon look as ill as the ailing queen? Despite being at odds with him, she didn't want that. He was one of the most vibrant men she had ever met and she would hate to see him grow weak.
She sighed and studied the almost full moon. He hadn't said anything more to her about his supposed change of feelings and she hadn't asked. Part of her hoped they could go back to being friends again, while the rest of her fought against the fragile, impossible hope that he had truly meant what he'd said . . .
Verity heard a blackbird's whistle to her left and turned to see Rhys approaching her.
"My lady?" Rhys touched her shoulder. "I have horses ready for us. The stone circle is not on the palace grounds."
"Will we meet Olivia and Elias there?"
"Aye. They'll meet us outside the circle. They would not be admitted without us, or at least Olivia would not. Elias is a different matter. He seems to be quite welcome."
Verity allowed Rhys to boost her into the saddle, and tried to ignore the catch of his breath as he briefly held her full weight. She was wearing her boy's garb, which made riding far easier and more pleasurable. Rhys mounted his black horse and set off, Verity behind him. He left the palace grounds and headed across the open fields, skirting around those that had not yet been harvested to avoid damaging the crops.
It seemed to take no time at all for them to reach their destination. They appeared to have stopped beside a small copse of oak trees, although Verity could see nothing that looked anything like a Druid stone circle.
Rhys appeared at her side and held out his arms. "Let me help you, my lady."
Verity forced a smile. "I'm quite capable of dismounting by myself."
His hands closed around her waist and he brought her down until she was trapped between him and the horse. He smoothed a hand over her face, fingered an errant strand of hair that had escaped her braid and tucked it behind her ear.
"I am still capable of holding you, cariad." His thumb grazed her lower lip. "Don't ever doubt that."
"Your shoulder . . ."
He kissed her lightly on the lips. "My shoulder is fine." His soft voice warmed her and made her want to wrap him in her arms and keep him safe.
She swallowed hard. "I don't want to hurt you."
His smile was full of sweetness. "You could never do that." He cupped her chin in his hand. "If this night does not turn out as we wish, I want you to remember that I love you."
Tears threatened and she frowned at him. "That's not fair."
"To tell you how I feel when my life might end?" He kissed her again. "I only wish I'd realized it earlier. I wish I'd looked back at you when you were fourteen instead of at Rosalind."
"But I wasn't the same person." She hesitated. "If you had asked for my hand then, I would have married you and had your children and known nothing else."
His smile was bittersweet. "And this is better?"
"Yes, it is. I've learned so much by coming to court and fulfilling my dreams."
He chuckled. "Verity Llewellyn, Vampire slayer."
"Yes, but it's not only that. I've had you to share the experience with."
Rhys rested his forehead against hers. "If there is one thing I will regret more than life, Verity, it will be not marrying you. If I don't survive this, and you carry my child, promise me that you will go home to Pembrokeshire and tell Sir John. He will care for you."
"I know he will."
"And if you aren't carrying my babe?"
She held his troubled gaze. "I'll stay here and avenge you. I swear it."
"What more could a man ask for?" He touched her face. "Don't cry, bach."
"I'm not crying." She shook her head and became aware that he was right: Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Rhys, I wish we had more time . . ."
His head came up and he drew his dagger. "Is that you, Elias?"
"Indeed. I have Olivia with me too." Elias emerged from the bushes. "We were beginning to wonder where you were."
Verity was glad it was dark as she hurriedly wiped her face on her sleeve. Rhys took her hand and squeezed it hard. "We were just coming."
Verity let him guide her down the slope of the valley that fell away in front of them. At the bottom of the basin sat an ancient stone circle that seemed to glow in the soft moonlight. The sound of trickling water came from the other side of the glade, but Verity could not see a stream.
"You have been here before, Rhys?" Verity whispered.
"Many times." Rhys looked as if he was caught up in his memories. "On the last occasion, Anne Boleyn tried to kill Christopher and her brother George kidnapped Elias."
"I have never been in the circle before, Lady Verity," Olivia said, biting her lip. "I was not allowed in last time."
"We should all be safe tonight," Rhys said firmly. "The Elders have agreed that we have need of the altar stone. They will protect us from harm."
Despite Rhys's words Verity still felt worried. There was a sense of something watching and waiting that wasn't connected to the gods. She shivered as Rhys let go of her hand and stepped across the perimeter of the circle. The air seemed to shimmer and then vibrate around him like a curtain. Perhaps her uncomfortable feelings were because they all carried Vampire blood within them and the stones simply didn't like it.
She chided herself for being so fanciful and watched while Elias and Olivia walked forward. Olivia looked more apprehensive than either of the men and Verity moved instinctively toward her and took her hand.
Rhys had already reached the center of the bluestone circle and was busy building a small fire to alert the gods to their presence and to ask for their help. He struck a flint and produced a spark that greedily ate into the dried grass beneath the small twigs and leaves. As the smoke rose, Verity inhaled the bitter scent of willow bark and sage and the sweeter aroma of rosemary.
When Rhys stood up, his gaze swept over them all and came to rest on Elias. "I hope this works, for all our sakes."
"So do I," Elias replied as he shrugged out of his plain brown doublet to reveal the soft white of his linen shirt. "I'm sure Olivia will keep us safe."
"I will do my best," Olivia answered as she approached the ancient stone altar and stared dubiously down at the carved symbols. "If any of you appear to be weakening I will pull you away from the altar and break the connection."
"If the stones allow it," Rhys murmured as he ran his hand along the rugged surface of the altar. "The stones crave blood almost as much as a Vampire does and, as Druids no longer practice human sacrifice, they are probably quite hungry."
"Stones do not feel," Olivia scoffed. "They aren't alive."
Rhys looked at her, his mouth a hard line as he removed his own leather jerkin. "Do not mock what you do not understand, my lady. These stones have been here longer than you or I, or even Elias."
Verity stepped between Olivia and Rhys and went to roll up the sleeve of her shirt. "Should I cut here, by the mark of Awen, or should I use my other arm?"
Rhys considered her wrists. "Cut by the mark. I suspect it will add to the power of your blood."
"It certainly makes Lady Verity's blood taste better than any I've ever sampled before," Elias said as he too bared his arm and came to stand opposite Verity at the altar.
Rhys moved to stand at the head of the altar between them and slowly pulled up his right sleeve. "How will we know when we have given enough blood?"
"I do not know." Elias frowned. "I assume it must be a significant amount, although hopefully there being three of us will make it more bearable."
Verity shivered and Rhys looked at her seriously. "We do not have to do this. I am not worth your lives."
"Yes you are," Olivia said fiercely. "I will watch over you all, and if any of you looks near death, I promise I will break the blood bond."
"Then let us proceed," Elias said. "Do you have the dagger, Sir Rhys?"
Rhys produced an ancient dagger that Mistress Hopkins had given him and held it over the altar. He closed his eyes and murmured a prayer.
"May the gods accept this willing blood sacrifice and bind us together in strength and unity."
He cut into his own wrist and a line of red immediately appeared and started to grow wider. He cut Verity next, and then Elias before handing the knife to Olivia.
Verity reached forward and held her hand up over the center of the altar. Elias and Rhys did the same thing and locked their fingers with hers until their wrists were touching. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the immense power in Elias, the deadly sickness in Rhys, and the unfamiliar scent of her own blood.
Their blood pooled in the small hollow in the center of the altar. Rhys slowly bore their hands down toward the stone and plunged them into the rapidly disappearing blood.
Her heart started to beat more slowly and she swayed forward, felt Rhys and Elias readjust their grip and keep her close. Even with her eyes closed, it was disturbing to hear the drip of their blood above their harried breathing, to feel the slide of wet, bloodied skin on skin.
But then she was slipping away from them and into a soft feather bed where everything was white . . . Elias was leaning over her, his gaze ardent, and she brought her hand up to touch his perfect face. She saw her reflection in his silver eyes and realized she was someone else.
Elias sighed and moved his head until his mouth brushed her questing fingers. She felt his teeth scrape against her skin as he kissed her hand, and suddenly she was ravenous. She reared over him and plunged her elongated fangs into his throat. He didn't resist her, just let himself fall onto the bed beside her and slid his hand into her unbound hair.
"Ah, God," he groaned as she continued to suck. The strength of his blood coursed through her like a fine wine and she felt more powerful than she ever had before. She crouched over him, one hand splayed on his chest, the other curved around the back of his head.
And then he disappeared and Rhys was with her, his eyes hard and tinged with red, his hand fisted in her hair as he rolled her onto her back. It was her turn to cry out as he punctured her throat with his fangs and drank deep. She struggled, but his strength kept her immobile beneath him. His knee worked between her thighs and she pushed hard at his chest. She didn't want this! She didn't want him! She screamed and felt herself falling . . .
"Verity!"
She heard the voice calling her name, but she didn't want to open her eyes. She was afraid of what she would see. When someone touched her shoulder, she rolled away and curled up into a tight ball.
"Verity?"
Rhys bent over her and stroked her hair. She flinched. "Don't touch me!"
He sank down beside her and she could hear the worry in his voice. "Are you all right?"
She couldn't speak to him yet, not with the image of him rearing over her and taking her blood while he tried to . . . Bile rose in her throat and she fought down an urge to retch. But that hadn't been him, had it? He was no Vampire and neither was she.
Verity opened her eyes and slowly sat up. This time Rhys didn't try to touch her---he just stayed where he was, his gaze watchful and concerned. She wiped her mouth with her shaking hand and discovered that Olivia and Elias were also kneeling on the ground, staring at her.
"Did I ruin everything?"
"You didn't ruin anything, my lady."
Elias looked at her steadily and she couldn't help but recall the love on his face as he'd willingly allowed her to take his blood. She might have been dreaming. Yet she had the sensation that she had witnessed one of his most private and cherished memories.
"According to Olivia, we all fell to the ground within moments of one another. I have to assume that when our blood had bonded sufficiently, we were released from the link." Elias turned to Rhys. "Do you remember what happened, Sir Rhys?"
Rhys shoved a hand through his hair. "It was as if I stepped into a nightmare and became a Vampire."
"Me?"
"No, the other Vampire. I felt like we were sharing one mind, and I feared he would take me over completely. But now I think that was just his final desperate attempt to stop what was happening." Rhys lifted his hand to his left shoulder. "I feel exhausted, but I'm not in pain anymore."
Olivia clapped her hands. "That is excellent news."
"Indeed it is," Elias agreed. For the first time ever, Rhys noticed he looked tired. "And now I need to go and feed before I fade away to nothing."
Rhys stood and grasped Elias by the hand to bring him to his feet. "I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me."
Elias grimaced. "Don't be too hasty with your gratitude, Sir Rhys. I'm not quite sure what we have achieved or what the repercussions of having this strange mixture of blood in our veins will be."
"I'm not sure either, but at this moment I am simply glad to be free of the Vampire's deadly taint."
"Then let's hope such good fortune stays with all of us," Elias murmured.
Rhys took Olivia's hand and kissed it. "Thank you, my lady."
She smiled and handed him the dagger. "I did naught but make sure none of you cracked your heads on the altar."
"And you sealed our wounds---at least I think that was you."
"It was." She hesitated, her voice soft. "Your blood already smells different."
"Then let us hope for success."
She nodded at him shyly and turned to follow Elias out of the stone circle, leaving Rhys alone with Verity. He cast another worried glance in her direction. When he'd touched her she'd recoiled from him as if he were the devil. Had she dreamed as he had, and if so, what had she seen that had put such terror into her?
He sat down cross-legged on the ground opposite her and waited to see if she would look at him. His throat was parched and he wished he had something to drink. He felt strangely lethargic and leaned his head back against the comforting bulk of the upright stone. His eyes started to close.
"In your nightmare, you were a Vampire?" Verity asked.
He struggled to open his eyes. "Aye."
She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them. "So was I. I dreamed I was drinking Elias's blood and then . . ." She shuddered.
"You dreamed of Elias too?" Rhys said. "In my nightmare we were trying to rip out each other's throat." He chuckled faintly. "I have never seen anything quite so terrifying as Elias in full fighting form. Were you fighting him as well?"
"No." She looked away. "The only person I was fighting was you, Rhys."
"In your dreams?" She nodded and he tensed. "Did I hurt you?"
"You were sucking my blood and then you tried . . ." She shook her head and then to his surprise met his gaze, her eyes widening. "Well, it was like my husband when he was drunk and wanted his conjugal rights."
Everything in Rhys stilled. "He forced himself on you?"
"He was my husband. It was his right. You know that."
Rhys bit out a curse. The desire to find the grave of Verity's husband and kill him all over again rose sharply in him. With such a cruel husband, it wasn't really surprising that she was so set against marriage.
A cool breeze threaded its way through the stones and Rhys shivered. They both needed to get back to the palace and sleep. He tried to imagine mounting his horse and groaned at the mere thought of it.
"We need to return to Hampton Court, my lady. In such a reduced train, we will be missed."
Verity smothered a yawn behind her hand. "I almost wish Olivia and Elias had used their magic to transport us back."
Rhys stood, using the stone as a prop. To his dismay, the ground tipped up to meet him and he had to keep holding on. "Elias was in no condition to use magic, and Olivia probably isn't strong enough yet. We'll just have to manage for ourselves."
He walked across to Verity and held out his hand. To his immense relief, this time she didn't shrink back from him; instead she accepted his help. Rhys made sure the small fire he had built was completely out and scattered the ashes in the breeze with a prayer of thanks to the gods.
Climbing up the slope of the valley required a huge effort of will. He and Verity ended up with their arms around each other's waist for support. Artio whickered a welcome as Rhys approached. He was deeply glad that the horses had stayed put.
Verity pulled on his sleeve, her face almost as pale as his. "I'm not sure I have the strength to ride by myself. Could we ride together?"
"I think that's an excellent idea." He would be able to hold her in his arms once more and that made the prospect even more enticing. "Mayhap we can prevent each other from falling off. I'll tie the other horse to the back of my saddle."
Her smile was as weary as his, but at least he was alive. Only the gods knew what effect the new blood would have on him and the others, but he felt as if a shadow had been lifted and he breathed deeply of the night air.
With some strategic help from Verity, he managed to mount Artio and then leaned down to help her up. She gripped his right hand and stood on his foot to pull herself up. Even though he felt the wrench in his left shoulder, it was not nearly as painful as it had once been. Verity settled herself in front of him and he reached around her to gather the reins in his right hand.
She sighed and leaned back against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and clicked to Artio to walk on. He had no idea what time it was, but he wasn't going to hurry. A gentle walk was all the jostling he and Verity would be able to stand at this moment.
After a long while, Hampton Court came into view and Rhys sent up a silent prayer to all the gods he worshipped, both Christian and Druid. The sky was lightening, but their chances of returning undetected seemed more than promising.
"We're almost there," he murmured as he maneuvered Artio around the more formal gardens and up close to the palace walls.
Verity sat forward and slowly turned to look at him. "I'm so glad that you are alive."
"As am I, my lady."
She cupped his cheek and brushed a soft kiss over his lips. "Thank you."
"For what?" He breathed in her unique scent and even through the leaden layers of tiredness he felt the stirrings of need.
"For trusting me, and Elias."
"I certainly trust you, my lady." He wanted to take her to his bed and lie beside her for what remained of the night and watch over her. "Elias is another matter."
"Still, it was good of you." She swung her leg over the horse until she was sitting sideways on his lap, her arms loosely circling his neck. "The ladies' quarters are close by. You can leave me here quite safely and go and stable the horses."
"Aye, my lady."
Despite his need for her, he was too exhausted to do more than agree and allow her to slip from his lap and walk away from him. He waited until she entered the courtyard and then turned Artio toward the well-lit stables. She might escape him now, but she would not escape him for much longer.
Mistress Hopkins examined the wound on Rhys's shoulder and smiled. "You are starting to heal quite nicely, Sir Rhys. How do you feel?"
"Much improved, Mistress Hopkins."
Rhys smiled back at her and turned his head to examine the puncture wounds, which were no longer oozing blood. He waited patiently while the healer smoothed a sweet-smelling cream into his skin and then rebandaged his shoulder.
"That should do it, sir. Come back and see me next week, and we should be able to dispense with the bandage altogether."
Rhys pulled his shirt back over his head and laced up his hose. Through the small kitchen window he could just make out Verity's form in the garden, where she was busy picking comfrey and mint for Mistress Hopkins. She'd walked over with him to the healer's cottage, her hand in his, and he'd enjoyed every moment.
After the bloodletting, he'd slept right through the next day and only dragged himself out of bed to ask the king's permission to stay on at Hampton Court to assist Verity, which had been willingly granted. With the queen in such dire straits, he could not force the issue of his feelings for Verity.
With the shadow of the Vampire's blood lifted from him, he had all the time in the world to woo her properly and convince her that she meant more to him than Rosalind. He smiled at his own foolishness---as long as neither of them got themselves killed before the matter was settled.
He shrugged into his brown doublet and buckled his sword back around his hips.
"Well?"Verity came through the kitchen door and looked inquiringly at him. She was wearing a cobalt gown that made her eyes seem bluer than the sky.
"The wound is healing normally now."
Verity clasped her hands together. "That is wonderful." She turned to Mistress Hopkins. "Thank you for all your care of him."
Mistress Hopkins chuckled. "I did little to help him, my lady. We have to thank the power of the stone circle and our gods for his recovery."
And Vampire blood. In deference to the healer, Rhys didn't say it out loud, but he couldn't help but think it. And as to the effect that blood might have on them all, he didn't dare contemplate it yet. He picked up his cap and bowed extravagantly to Mistress Hopkins.
"I am in your debt. If you ever have need of me, do not hesitate to ask."
Mistress Hopkins flicked her cloth at him. "Now, go on with you, Sir Rhys, and take your lady back to the palace. The queen will need all her ladies around her soon."
"Are you attending the birth, Mistress Hopkins?" Verity asked as she deposited the basket on the table.
"No, my lady. I haven't been invited."
Verity met Rhys's gaze. "I wonder if we could arrange for Mistress Hopkins to be there. With her special skills she might be of more use to the queen than any of these learned physicians King Henry has called in."
"We should speak to the king," Rhys agreed. "Would you be willing to attend the queen, Mistress Hopkins?"
"Of course I would, sir. The poor soul looks worn to the bone."
"We believe she has encountered the same Vampire who tainted my blood."
"Oh, the poor sainted lady." Mistress Hopkins made the sign of the cross. "She will need all her strength to survive this."
Verity looked pained, and Rhys took her hand. "We will bid you good-bye, then, Mistress Hopkins, and I will see you in another week."
Rhys led Verity down the narrow path between the rows of vegetables and onward toward the smithy and the stables.
Verity sighed. "I don't see how we can save the queen, do you?"
"It will certainly be difficult at this point."
"I can't see the king and his privy council allowing us to take her into a Druid circle and let her bleed over a stone altar. We'd probably be burned alive for witchcraft."
Rhys considered the matter as they walked. "I wonder if we could get her to drink our blood. Would that help at all?"
Verity shuddered. "I fear you have been consorting with Vampires for too long. No human would agree to do that."
"What if we were able to do it secretly?"
Verity shook her head. "Rhys, it will never work. Even if we were able to tamper with her food, every morsel the queen eats or drinks is tasted by her physicians."
Rhys exhaled. "Then what in God's holy name are we going to do?"
Verity squeezed his hand. "It is good to hear you trying to think of ways to save the queen. I thought you had given up on her."
He glanced down at her. "I'm feeling far more positive now that I'm no longer tainted with cursed Vampire blood."
"You are really feeling better?"
"I no longer feel so weak and it seems like Janus is no longer feeding my anger." He glanced down at her. "Is he still with you?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I have no idea why." She hesitated. "Verily, he seems stronger."
Rhys stopped walking. "Can you not shut him out?"
She gave him a strained smile. "I'm trying, but at the moment it feels like all of you are in my head and that is somewhat complicating matters."
"I have a similar sensation. I hoped it was just the lingering effect of Janus's power, but perhaps it is more than that." He paused. "I certainly feel different."
"It is hard to work out exactly who is who."
"Can you hear our thoughts?"
"It's not that distinct. I just have a sense of you all. But Janus is the loudest."
"That sounds like Vampire magic."
"Mayhap it is. I'll have to ask Elias how he is feeling and how to deal with it."
"Strange that it affects us so differently. I can definitely sense Elias's strength and power the most." He frowned. "I feel responsible for your current distress. If I hadn't taken your blood---"
She placed her hand on his chest. "You did what was necessary and was sanctioned by our gods. I will be fine in a little while."
"We'll have to see about that." His elation over defeating the Vampire's blood curse dissipated as he considered the adverse effect it was having on Verity and possibly on them all. "I wonder why our gods allowed this if it brings danger to those involved."
"It is only right that they be concerned with the survival of our race and not the welfare of a few individuals." She patted his sleeve. "I am sure that whatever their reasons, the Vampire race will suffer."
"That's true," Rhys replied and tried to shake off his melancholy. "I'm supposed to be playing the harp for the king and queen this afternoon. Will you be there?"
"Indeed I will." Verity glanced around the sunlit stable yard. "The queen will be going into complete seclusion soon and there will be little to amuse us all then."
"You'll be able to escape occasionally, won't you?"
"I'll have to," Verity answered, "or else how will I see you and Elias?"
Rhys wished she hadn't mentioned Elias as well as him, but he smiled anyway.
"Whatever happens, my lady, Elias and I will be there for you." He hesitated. "You said you could sense me in your thoughts. Do you think if I called you, you would hear it?"
Verity straightened and tried to look resolute. "Why don't you try?"
He chuckled and kissed her hand. "I have no idea how to try. I'll ask Elias. He said he wanted to meet with me tonight, anyway."
"Without me?"
"I believe it is something to do with Lady Rochford, although I'm not sure why he needs me."
"Then I will be more than happy to stay away." Verity curtsied and opened the side door into the queen's apartments. "But be on your guard, Rhys. Lady Rochford is an extremely unpleasant woman."
Rhys nodded to Elias, who had appeared beside him in the archway between the Clock court and the busier outer court. It was dark and the courtyard was lit only by a few burning torches. The multitude of shifting shadows they created made the hunter in Rhys nervous.
"Good evening, Elias."
"Good evening, Sir Rhys."
The Vampire's normally perfect complexion was pale and tired-looking. "Are you not feeling well, Elias?" Rhys asked in surprise.
"Why do you ask?"
"And why do you always avoid my questions?" Rhys muttered. "Lady Verity and I seem to be suffering some ill effects since we shared our blood. I was wondering if you had experienced anything similar."
Elias leaned back against the brick wall and sighed. "In truth, I do feel rather strange."
"In what way?"
"As if too many people inhabit my body."
Again Rhys felt the pinch of guilt. "Lady Verity said the Vampire was even clearer in her mind. Is he bothering you?"
"Not particularly. I find having his blood in me quite enlightening. It helps me understand his moods." He glared at Rhys. "My discomfort comes from sharing Druid blood, not Vampire."
"What do you mean?"
"I feel . . . weaker."
"Yet you are not as debilitated as I was."
"You are a mere human; of course the effects were worse for you."
Rhys hid a smile. "Of course. Then you feel well enough to confront Lady Rochford tonight?"
Elias hesitated. "That's why I asked you to come. In case I . . ." He stopped speaking and stared haughtily at Rhys. "Not that I will need your assistance, of course, but Lady Rochford might be the key."
"How so?" Rhys allowed Elias to lead him through the maze of outbuildings until they were at the rear of the queen's apartments.
"In some ways she is weak and therefore exploitable. I'm not sure you will approve of my methods, Sir Rhys, but I fear time is running out for the queen and for me."
"You are not planning on dying, Elias, are you?"
The Vampire's smile was cold. "Not if I can help it. But Janus is strong and seeks my position as liaison between the court and the Council. He seems very interested in the Llewellyn family."
"Have you met him, then?"
"No, he has been keeping out of my way while he gathers his supporters and plots to destroy me." He hesitated. "Since I have taken his blood, through you, I do not believe he is related to me in any way. I believe his connection to us all comes through the Druids."
Rhys frowned. "But it is considered dangerous to turn a Druid into a Vampire."
"Aye, because of the ancient blood connection we share. Remember that before my ancestors decided drinking human blood was far more intoxicating than spilling blood for the gods, we were one race."
"If this Janus was once a Druid, it might explain both his unusual powers and his interest in me and Verity."
"Indeed, and if he is a former Druid, my attempts to overpower him alone were bound to fail."
"Except that you now have some of his blood in you."
Elias's smile was chilling. "As do we all." He looked over Rhys's shoulder. "I am expecting Lady Rochford at any moment. May I suggest that you hide somewhere close by?"
"You do not want me by your side?"
"Hardly."
Rhys was glad to see that Elias had regained some of his usual arrogance. "Lady Verity warned me to be wary of the woman."
"And she was right."
Rhys retreated behind a convenient stack of barrels and made sure he could still make out Elias's blond head. From a distance, with the moonlight shining down on him, Elias looked quite angelic. Rhys drew his dagger as another hooded figure appeared and Elias bowed.
As the two Vampires disappeared, he cursed and stepped out of his hiding place.
"Elias, damn you," he whispered. "Where are you?"
He heard Elias's amused voice in his head. "Follow me, Sir Rhys. You are well capable of it."
"How?" he replied.
"Picture where I am and imagine yourself close by."
Rhys closed his eyes and pictured Elias. He half expected to be taken up into the air, but instead he found his feet moving in a particular direction. He kept the image of Elias in his thoughts and simply followed his instincts.
Eventually he found himself in a quiet corridor of the servants' wing of the queen's apartments. He could hear Elias's voice and a woman's and paused outside the closed door.
"The room next door is empty and connected to this one."
Rhys quietly opened the next door along and then closed it behind him. Apart from a pile of dusty wall hangings and a large oak chest, the room was empty. There was a connecting door between the two rooms and it was slightly ajar. Rhys could now hear the voices quite clearly and he settled down to listen. Elias seemed to be doing most of the talking and he sounded like his old self.
"Lady Rochford, I do not believe you. Someone not sanctioned by the Vampire Council is gaining access to the queen's bedchamber."
"That isn't true, Master Warner."
"Don't lie to me, woman." Rhys winced at the cold lash of Elias's voice. "I have the ear of almost every member of the Council; I can have you destroyed with just a word."
"Master Warner, I swear that I cannot tell you anything." Lady Rochford's voice rose in an unpleasant whine.
"Whom are you more afraid of, Lady Rochford, the Vampire you now serve or the Vampire Council?"
"You don't understand, Master Warner!" Lady Rochford whispered. "Janus will kill me!"
"And you think I will not?"
Lady Rochford gasped and Rhys tensed and drew his dagger. He leaned closer to the crack in the door and saw that Elias had his hand around Lady Rochford's throat.
"I knew your husband and the lady Anne very well," Elias said, almost idly. "It would be a pity if either the king or the Vampire Council were to hear about your involvement in their plot to overthrow the king."
"You would not do that to me, Master Warner!"
Elias laughed and the cutting sound made Rhys wince. "Why not? I care nothing for you, Lady Rochford. I only care that this Vampire you now claim to serve is destroyed. He is not even purebred, do you realize that? He is part Druid."
"He is more powerful than you are!" Lady Rochford protested.
"He is not." Rhys tensed as Elias's grip tightened and Lady Rochford started to struggle. Cold power surged through Rhys and he fought to contain it. "Shall I prove it to you?"
Rhys flinched as somewhere in his mind an echo of the pain Elias was now inflicting on Lady Rochford shot through him, followed by a deadly sense of purpose that made him feel invincible. Rhys wanted to groan as Elias shoved Lady Rochford away and she fell back against the wall, gasping and holding her throat.
"What---what do you want from me?"
She sounded terrified now, and Rhys wasn't surprised. He too would have been alarmed at such a blatant display of power. But that power was seductive too, and Rhys realized he was anticipating Elias's next move with all the enjoyment of a hunter.
"It's quite simple. I want you to tell me the next time your master visits the queen at night."
"I don't always know when that will be. I scarcely have time myself to---"
"You will have time to warn me."
Elias's hand shot out and he jerked Lady Rochford toward him. Rhys caught a glimpse of Elias's fangs just before he plunged them into Lady Rochford's unprotected throat and sucked vigorously. After a moment Lady Rochford crumpled to the ground and Rhys found that he could breathe again. He swallowed against the sudden taste of polluted blood in his mouth.
"You will tell me, Lady Rochford. I have your blood now. If you do not summon me and betray your master, I will expose you as the traitor you are to the king and to the Vampire Council. I wonder who will get to you first and how painful your death will be?"
Elias strode away from the whimpering Vampire. After a moment Rhys followed Elias out into the courtyard and caught up with him beneath the archway where they had first encountered each other.
Elias glanced at him as he licked the blood from the tips of his fangs. "You look shaken, Sir Rhys. Had you forgotten that I am one of the monsters you swore to destroy?"
Rhys held his gaze. "I know what you are."
"Then I suggest you remember it. The Vampire realm is only for the strong. When my position is threatened, I must and will be more ruthless than my opponent. I refuse to be destroyed by this . . . abomination." Elias licked his lips and then spat. "Lady Rochford tastes of that accursed Vampire. He disgusts me."
"I understand the need to display your dominance," Rhys said. "It is just that I had never experienced the effects of it quite so intimately."
"You felt my power?"
Rhys grimaced. "All too clearly. If I were Lady Rochford, I would fear you."
"That is good to know." Elias smiled. "I think Lady Rochford will tell us if Janus attempts to take blood from the queen."
"And if he does? What will we do to stop him?"
Elias rubbed his hand over his chin and stared out into the gathering darkness. "That, my good sir, is the question. How can we defeat a Vampire who seems to be invincible?"
"We have done it before."
Elias started walking again, and Rhys followed him. They passed a group of the king's personal guards and three giggling maidservants who giggled even more when they saw the two men. Rhys ignored the coy stares, but Elias smiled and nodded. For a moment Rhys wondered why Elias bothered and then he remembered that to the Vampire human females were food.
"When we mingled our blood, Elias, I dreamed we were engaged in combat. Did you dream the same thing?"
"Aye." Elias cast him a sideways glance. "Although I believed I was fighting the Vampire inside you rather than trying to kill you personally."
"I'm relieved to hear that," Rhys said. "But then, why were you fighting Lady Verity?"
"I was not."
"You did not dream of her?" Rhys frowned. "She dreamed of you."
"Did she?"
Something in Elias's flat tone made Rhys look sharply at the Vampire. He tried to remember exactly what Verity had told him about her dream of Elias and realized she hadn't directly answered him.
"It is of no matter," Rhys said quickly. "I will make sure to tell Lady Verity of your success with Lady Rochford. I'll also tell her to be on her guard. I wouldn't put it past that woman to attempt to harm Verity if she could."
"That is true. She might attempt to use the lady as a pawn against me." Elias bowed. "Good night, Sir Rhys."
After the Vampire's abrupt departure, Rhys remained staring up at the redbrick walls of the palace and the towering chimneys beyond. Despite the diminished size and state of the court, lights shone in the courtyards and at many of the windows. There was less a sense of exuberance than usual and more an air of waiting, as if the whole building held its breath while the days and hours ticked down toward the birth of the king's most anticipated child.
Rhys sighed and turned back toward the gentlemen's lodgings. What if the child was another girl? Would the queen survive for long if she disappointed the king? The thought disturbed him. But then, he wasn't as callous as the king or in such need of an heir.
A stifled sound attracted his attention to the dead end where the building met the outer wall and he drew his dagger. The hiss of a curse and the familiar clang of metal on metal made his heart race as he ran to join the fight. A single Druid slayer was fighting a lone young Vampire. As the Vampire went down and the slayer moved in for the kill, Rhys recognized Dafydd and his intended victim.
"Dafydd, no!"
With a speed he didn't know he possessed, Rhys threw himself in front of Dafydd and blocked his killing blow. He felt the vibration of it shudder all the way through his arm. Dafydd snarled and tried another attack, but Rhys blocked that one too.
"Let it be, man," Rhys commanded.
"Sir Rhys?" Dafydd's shocked expression as he sheathed his sword made Rhys feel like a traitor.
He took Dafydd by the shoulder, turned him away from Olivia, and walked him down the passageway. "Dafydd, I have not run mad or been turned. That Vampire is working with us to save the queen."
"That youth?" Dafydd said, disbelief ringing through the words.
"That youth is one of Queen Jane's ladies. She reports to me."
"Verily? Then why did she attack me?" Dafydd stared hard at Rhys, who held his gaze.
"I swear it. Please try not to kill her until we at least sort out this problem with the queen."
"All right." Dafydd sighed. "I'll send the word out to my men, but you must tell her not to taunt us."
"She challenged you?"
"Not exactly." Dafydd almost smiled. "We were fighting another band of Vampires and she started throwing fruit at us. I told the others to leave her to me and chased her here. She's a feisty little thing."
"I'll make sure she understands that she should not go anywhere near you or your men."
Dafydd inclined his head. "Diolch. Thank you, Sir Rhys. I'll leave her to your tender mercies."
"I appreciate it." Rhys watched the Druid leave and then made his way back to Olivia. He stood over her as she lounged petulantly against the wall.
"That was a very stupid thing to do. You could've been killed."
She raised her head and looked up at him. He was struck again by the beauty and honesty of her startling blue eyes.
"That lumbering fool would not have killed me. I was planning on vanishing and letting him ram his head into the wall."
"Dafydd Morgan is no fool, Olivia. He is one of the most promising Vampire slayers I've ever met. "
She stood up and he noticed she was cradling her right hand against her chest. The seductive smell of her blood reached him and drew him toward her as if he were a Vampire. He cursed Elias's blood all over again---or was it just Elias's blood? Was Janus now influencing him in other ways?
"You are injured. Let me see."
She tried to walk past him, but he took her shoulder in a gentle grip and she went still.
"It is nothing, Sir Rhys."
"Then let me see it."
Reluctantly she surrendered her hand and he was able to examine the gash on the back of it. Before he could stop himself, he bent his head and licked the wound, then watched in shock as it sealed itself shut.
Olivia pulled out of his grip, her eyes wide. "What are you doing?"
"I'm---I don't know," Rhys stammered in confusion. His senses were reacting far too favorably to the uniqueness of her taste and he felt as though he were someone else. "I obviously have too much Vampire blood in me. Damn Elias." He tried to tamp down the pleasure he was feeling and changed the subject. "You must not taunt the slayers."
"Why not?"
"Because one day you will be captured or killed."
"I will not."
"Olivia, if you are old enough to guard the queen, you are old enough to take orders. Leave the Druid slayers alone."
She stiffened. "I certainly do not take my orders from you."
He raised his eyebrows. "Do you wish me to find Elias and have him explain it to you? Because he might not care how he enforces your obedience or whether you lose your life over nothing."
"Are you saying that you care?"
Rhys gathered his patience. "You are Rosalind's sister by marriage. I consider it my duty to care for you."
"Your duty."
"Aye."
She made a small, hopeless gesture that tore at his heart. "That's all I'll ever be to you, isn't it? An annoying child who needs to be protected."
"Olivia---"
She swung away from him. "You've changed your opinion of Lady Verity---why not of me?"
"Mayhap because Lady Verity doesn't go chasing after her enemies on a whim."
"You love her, don't you?"
Rhys held her anguished gaze. "Aye, I do. I'm sorry, Olivia."
Pain flared in her eyes and he wanted to fold her into his arms and hold her tight until the ache went away. He'd been where she was now and he knew how much it hurt.
She slowly raised her chin and glared at him. "There is no need to feel sorry for me."
"I'm glad to hear that, because one day you will meet a male who will be able to give you his whole heart, and you will be happier than you could ever imagine."
"Perhaps I already have."
"Then I am glad for you," he said gently.
Her eyes filled with tears. "Don't patronize me. I don't need your approval for anything!"
She disappeared, leaving him standing alone in the cool breeze, his heart aching and the taste of her blood still lingering in his senses. He realized now how hard it must have been for Rosalind to tell him about Christopher. In her own way, Rosalind had loved him and didn't want to hurt him, but she'd realized there was no other way but to tell the truth.
And he cared for Olivia. There was something special about her that just drew him in. She reminded him of everything he had lost in his single-minded pursuit of Rosalind and the Vampires. Rhys sent up a heartfelt prayer to all the gods that they would be kind to Olivia. Vampire or no, she deserved to be loved.
"Is there something wrong with Olivia?" Verity frowned as Olivia stalked by with her nose in the air. They were sitting in one of the more public rooms of the queen's apartments, a room to which most of the court had been relegated. Elias glanced up from his book and raised his eyebrows.
"I thought Olivia was supposed to ignore you when Lady Rochford was nearby."
"So are you," Verity answered.
"But I'm not afraid of Lady Rochford."
"Why ever not?"
"Because I have persuaded her that it is in her best interests to cooperate with me."
Verity shot a quick glance at Lady Rochford, who looked her usual unpleasant self. She had noticed, however, that the Vampire was very keen to avoid Elias's gaze. "And how exactly did you do that?"
Elias shut his book. "I reminded her that I knew of her association with the Boleyn plot to turn the king into a Vampire. I suggested that she might not like it if I gave that information to the king or the Vampire Council."
"And she believed you would betray her?"
"To safeguard my own life I would betray anyone."
"Even me?"
Elias considered her. "It would be difficult, but yes."
"Has there ever been anyone you would sacrifice yourself for?"
His enigmatic silver eyes met hers. "You shared my memories. You know that there was once someone I loved."
Verity felt her cheeks heat as she remembered their passionate dreamlike embrace. "What happened to her?"
His faint smile died. "I killed her." He brought her hand to his lips. "Do not look so appalled. It was a very long time ago. I had almost forgotten all about it."
"I'm sorry," Verity murmured.
"There is nothing to be sorry about. It taught me a valuable lesson. My kind is not meant to love too deeply."
"Why not?"
He held her gaze and she almost recoiled from the echoing emptiness in his silver eyes. "Because who can sustain love for all eternity?"
Elias released her hand and said, "Now, as to your question about Lady Olivia. I believe she is suffering the pangs of unrequited love."
"She has been suffering those ever since I've known her," Verity remarked wryly.
"Ah, but perhaps Sir Rhys has finally told her the truth."
"About what?"
"About his love for you." Elias nodded in Olivia's direction and she scowled at him. "I should imagine that is it. Sir Rhys would not want her to pine after him as he used to after Lady Rosalind."
Verity smoothed down her satin skirts. "He still pines for her."
"I do not believe he does."
Verity had nothing to say to that and instead turned her gaze toward Olivia. "Perhaps I should try to talk to her."
"I suspect you are the last person she wishes to speak to at the moment."
"Are you willing to take on the task?" Verity was aware that her tone was tart, but she didn't care. To her surprise Elias didn't answer her immediately as he continued to study Olivia.
"I might be. In a year or so," he said thoughtfully.
"I am talking about consoling her, not seducing her."
Elias glanced at her sharply. "That was not what I meant. I am almost four hundred years older than Olivia. I simply might be able to offer her some advice."
Verity said no more. She rose from her seat and curtsied.
"I will speak to Olivia. It seems only fair."
"And what if she thinks you come to gloat?"
"I would not do that."
Elias's face softened. "I know you would not. But don't be surprised if she doesn't wish to speak to you." He nodded in the direction of Lady Rochford. "I'll waylay the dragon while you converse."
Verity frowned at him and made her way across the room to where Olivia had seated herself beside the empty fireplace. She was staring out the window, a pile of tangled swaddling bands on her knee. Verity sat opposite her and cleared her throat.
"Is something troubling you, Olivia?" Olivia looked at her and then looked away, but not before Verity could see the misery in her gaze. "What is wrong?"
"You know."
"I wish I did. Has something happened to distress you?"
"Yes."
Verity remained silent as Olivia's hands twisted in the pile of linen.
"I'm sure Sir Rhys has already told you."
"He has told me nothing. In truth, I have not seen him since yesterday when I accompanied him to the healer."
"I saw him last night when he ordered me not to fight with the Druid Vampire slayers."
"You were fighting?"
"I was . . ." Olivia sighed. "I was taunting them, and one of the slayers tried to run me through."
Verity brought her hand to her mouth. "And what happened?"
"Sir Rhys insisted on 'saving' me, even though I was perfectly safe and could have vanished at any second."
"And this is what has you so upset?'
"Yes!"
"He must have thought you were in danger if he intervened."
"Why?"
"Because he would not wish to draw attention to you. Have you forgotten that you are playing a very dangerous game? You are working with your enemies," Verity reminded her.
"Only to save the queen."
"A mere human whom most Vampires would consider expendable."
Olivia started to roll up one of the strips of swaddling linen. "You sound just like Rhys."
"Because we both want to protect you?"
"I do not need to be protected! I am immortal." She glared at Verity. "And you and I are almost the same age!"
"And yet you seem very young sometimes. Mayhap it is because Vampires have longer life spans."
"I will tell you what I told Sir Rhys. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and I do not need him, or you, to tell me what to do."
Verity held her gaze. "And I will remind you that you committed yourself to our cause and we are relying on you to see it through to the end."
"I will not fail you. I am far more capable than you think."
"And in danger," Verity said quietly. "Please don't forget that."
Olivia dropped her gaze to the bands of linen and Verity realized she would get no more from her. She rose to her feet, aware that Elias was still watching her from across the room.
Elias stood up as she approached and offered her his arm. "Sir Rhys is nearing the queen's apartments. Shall we meet him? We have much to talk about."
Verity agreed and allowed Elias to lead her out of the room. The sun was low in the sky and a cooler breeze had started up, bringing with it the first faint breath of autumn. "How do you know where Rhys is?"
"I can sense his presence. Can't you?"
"How would I do that?" Verity asked.
"Just picture him in your mind."
Verity wanted to close her eyes but forced herself not to lest she trip. She thought of Rhys and immediately looked up. "He is just passing the chapel."
"Exactly, my lady."
"Can I find you like that as well?"
"I should think so, seeing as Sir Rhys managed to locate me when I spoke with Lady Rochford last night."
Rhys came around the corner and Verity simply watched him stride toward them, his sword at his side, his expression lightening as he saw her. Every time she saw him it became harder to accept that he was not hers to keep and that she needed to guard her heart.
"My lady, Elias." Rhys bowed. "I was just coming to find you."
"Rhys, can you find me in your mind?"
"If I can find Elias, I should imagine that I can find you. Why? Is something wrong?"
"No. I was just experimenting with my new abilities."
Rhys groaned. "I'm a little afraid to experiment. I seem to be becoming more like Elias every day."
"That's because my blood is strong, Sir Rhys, and I suspect Lady Verity's blood increases all our power." Elias beckoned them toward a more private area off the pathway. "If we can harness this power, we can use it against the Vampire who preys on the queen."
"It is very strange, is it not?" Verity said. "Not only can I sense you and Rhys quite clearly, but I can also feel Janus more strongly." She frowned. "He seems almost familiar."
"Mayhap that is because his speech sounds Welsh."
"That's true. It does," Verity agreed.
Rhys cleared his throat. "Elias and I think Janus might be from Druid stock."
A shiver ran through Verity. "Do you mean that someone has betrayed our beliefs and joined fully with our foes?" Both men nodded. "That might explain why we hear him so clearly, Rhys, and how he is able to affect us so deeply."
"Aye."
"It might also help us destroy him," Elias added.
"How so?" Verity asked.
"I'm not sure yet, but I believe it will take the combined strength of our blood," Elias answered. "I think you should consult with your Elders. I'm certain that this particular Vampire is not the first to betray the Druids."
Verity nodded. "Rhys and I can ask Mistress Hopkins when we see her next." She hesitated. "I wonder how long it will be before Janus strikes at Queen Jane again."
"I suppose it depends on when the queen is ready to deliver her child," Rhys said.
Verity didn't even want to think about that and found herself looking away from the two men, her heart aching for the queen.
"Lady Rochford will warn me if the Vampire seeks blood from the queen," Elias reminded them. "We need to be prepared to confront the Vampire and his associates and finish this."
"That's right," Verity said slowly. "I'd almost forgotten. There was a female Vampire present too."
She looked over at Rhys. "Shall we go see Mistress Hopkins tomorrow?"
"Aye, the sooner the better." He looked back at the palace and frowned. "Where is Olivia?"
Verity shared a quick glance with Elias, who then disappeared, leaving her to deal with Rhys. "Olivia was not in a very good humor. Elias and I decided to leave her be. I'll let her know what we discussed when she is in a more receptive mood."
Rhys grimaced. "Is she still upset with me?"
"I believe she is."
He sighed. "I had to tell her the truth, Verity."
"No one likes to hear that they have behaved irresponsibly."
"Is that what she told you?"
"You didn't reprimand her for tangling with our slayers?"
"I did, but . . ." He hesitated. "I also told her that I am in love with you."
"You should not have done that." Verity half turned away from him and fiddled with her sleeve.
"But she deserved to hear the truth from me."
"Because you care for her?"
"I care for her, but I do not love her. I love you."
Verity closed her eyes against the sincerity in his voice. "Rhys . . ."
"What, my heart?"
She opened her eyes and glared at him. "Do not do this to me!"
His smile was both tender and inviting. "Do what? Love you?" He shrugged. "I cannot help that."
"And I cannot . . ." She gasped as he took her hand and pulled her hard against his chest.
"Cannot what?"
She made the mistake of looking up at him and found she could not look away. He bent down until his nose touched hers and she shivered.
"Kiss me, Verity."
Her gaze was already riveted on his mouth. "I will not."
"Why not?"
"Because . . ."
He kissed her nose. "If I mean nothing to you as you claim, surely a kiss should also mean nothing?"
She felt as if her heart was beating too fast to allow her to breathe. "A kiss can lead to other things."
"Such as?"
Images of making love with him suffused her thoughts and she licked her lips.
She felt Rhys stiffen. "Ah, cariad, you will destroy me with thoughts like that."
She tried to pull away from him and felt her cheeks heating. "You can see what I am thinking?"
His smile was so sensual she wanted to drown in it. "Aye. Would you care to share my thoughts?"
He closed his eyes and a moment later her mind was filled with him, the scent of him, the taste of him, the feel of his body moving over and within hers. She wanted to press herself against him and devour him whole.
"Verity."
By all the saints, his voice was in her head too . . . She moaned his name and he drew her hard against his body so that she was pressed against him from knee to shoulder. Blindly she lifted her mouth to his and kissed him, felt him shudder as she nipped his lip and delved deeper into his mouth.
It was like no other kiss she had ever shared. His body and his mind aligned with hers. Their senses reeling and blending into a sensual bliss that had no beginning and no end. Rhys's palm flattened over her buttocks and he wrenched his mouth away from hers.
"I want you."
With all her might, Verity clung to the shreds of her reality---of what taking him inside her would mean. She pushed against his chest.
"I can't."
"Because you don't believe I love you?"
She raised a shaking hand to his cheek. "Because I will not allow you to get me with child and marry me."
He looked down at her, his face expressionless, and slowly took his hands off her. His breathing sounded harsh and she could see the bulge of his prick pushing against the soft leather of his hose.
"Then I suggest you run away very quickly, because if you keep looking at me like that, I'll have you in my arms and nothing will stop me from putting you on your back and sliding inside you."
Verity wiped a shaking hand over her mouth. "You told me you were tired of me running away from you."
"I was wrong." He set his jaw. "Please, if you care for me at all, leave."
Verity nodded and ran. Behind her she heard Rhys cursing quietly in Welsh and she didn't dare look back. It had been the hardest thing she had ever had to do in her life---walk away from such bliss. Part of her shouted that she was a fool and that she was throwing away the chance to be loved, but she couldn't forget the past. She just couldn't.
"Verity . . ."
For a second she thought it was Rhys trying to tempt her back and she stopped running.
"Why don't you let him have you, my sweet? Are you saving yourself for me?
The scent of death and tainted blood filled her nostrils and she brought her hand to her mouth. Should she answer the monster? Could she?
"Go away," she whispered. "Leave me alone."
The Vampire's mocking laughter filled her head and she wanted to puke into the nearest bush. She couldn't help it; she found herself turning and running back to where she had left Rhys.
Rhys stared grimly at the oak tree opposite him and concentrated on saying his rosary. It was the only way he could subdue his unruly body and gain even a modicum of calm. He wanted to chase after Verity and demand that she let him into her bed. And what would that achieve? In his more lucid moments he knew that the best thing to do was to wait for her to come to him. At the moment, with his prick raging with thwarted lust, it seemed nigh impossible.
Suddenly fear flooded his senses and he lost his place in the prayer. He looked back toward the path to the palace along which Verity had fled.
She was running toward him, and for a moment his heart leapt with joy, until he saw her face and realized that the terror in his mind was emanating from her. He drew his dagger.
"Verity, what's wrong?"
She flung herself into his arms and buried her face against his chest. She was trembling so hard that all he could do was hold her close and rest his chin on the top of her head. He waited for her breathing to even out and slid his hand under the hair at the nape of her neck, just so that he could touch her skin.
"Cariad?"
"Kiss me, Rhys."
He stared at her for a stupefied moment. "What?"
"Kiss me!"
With a groan he obliged her, his mouth finding hers, his arms locking around her with all his strength. She kissed him back, her tongue in his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lower lip. He tasted blood and his thoughts narrowed in a haze of red-tinted lust.
Without taking his mouth from hers, he maneuvered her backward toward the trees and away from the path. She didn't protest, her body pressed to his, her hand tugging on his hair as if she wanted to devour him too. He angled her against one of the trees and fumbled with her heavy skirts, needing to feel her, touch her, own her.
She didn't stop him, her fingers now busy attacking the points that attached his codpiece to his hose and freeing his already hard prick.
"Ah, God, Verity." His breath hissed out as she wrapped her hand around him. He plunged his fingers between her legs and found her already wet and ready. It took him but a moment to brace her against the tree and lift her over his aching shaft.
They both gasped as he slid home and she moaned his name. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she found her balance and he began to move fast and rough. She didn't seem to object and he kept up the frantic pace, his mind entwined with hers, her desperate need for him driving him onward toward a fiery completion.
He managed to slide a hand between them and added his thumb to her swollen bud to accentuate her pleasure. She rewarded him with a climax that had him fighting the desire to spill his seed. She started to tighten around him again and he knew it was too much, that he had to join her, that he had . . .
That he had to pull out, and protect her, even as she protested his pulling away from her. He managed it and collapsed against her, barely finding the strength to continue holding her up. His head came to rest in the crook of her neck, his mouth pressed against the pulse leaping in her throat. A desperate urge to bite down and taste her blood surged through him and he wrenched his mouth away.
With trembling hands he brought her legs down to the ground and wiped furiously at his lips. What demon possessed him? Was he channeling Elias's desires or, worse still, those of Janus?
As he fought to steady himself, Verity continued to lean against him. Eventually she looked up and he braced himself for her condemnation.
"Oh God, Rhys. He speaks Welsh."
For a moment, he was confused. "Who does?"
"Janus!" She shuddered. "He spoke to me and I---I was so frightened."
"What did he say?" His heart clenched at the tears in her eyes. "Verity, what did he say?"
"He asked why I didn't lie with you." Her voice shook. "And if I was saving myself for him."
Pure rage flooded Rhys's body and he had to resist an urge to draw his sword.
He forced himself to look down at her. "Is that why you came back to me? To prove the Vampire wrong?"
She cupped his cheek, her blue eyes fierce. "I came back because you are the only man I want and the only man I trust to keep me safe. Is that not enough for you?"
He brought his mouth down to meet hers and kissed her hard until she kissed him back. When he pulled away she was panting.
"I will never allow him to have you, Verity. By all that's holy, I'll die first."
She nodded slowly and then pressed herself against him once again, her head on his shoulder and her arms around his waist. As his rage cooled, he felt an ice-cold intent to kill at any cost, and he hoped that he would encounter Janus soon.
"I shall ask the Elders." Mistress Hopkins frowned. "The idea that one of our own has turned into a Vampire sickens me."
"It is possible that the man had no choice in the matter," Rhys said quietly. "Not everyone asks to be bitten by a Vampire."
"But Janus made a choice to fight and kill his own people!" Mistress Hopkins exclaimed. "That is unforgivable."
Rhys tended to agree with her and he saw that Verity was nodding too. She looked a lot calmer than she had on the previous day, but he was still worried about her.
Mistress Hopkins searched for her cloak. "I don't think this matter can wait. I'll seek out Lady Alys right now. I'll come and find you at court if I receive any answers for you. I agree with your Master Warner. Blood is the key to this puzzle."
Rhys held the door open for her and Verity and watched the woman practically run toward the forest.
"I wonder whether Lady Alys lives in the stone circle," he said.
Verity smiled. "I hope not. It would be rather uncomfortable." She slipped her arm through his and they proceeded down the path together and back toward the palace. "I'm so worried about the queen, Rhys. She looks as if simply rising from her bed is an effort."
"We must stop this monster," Rhys said abruptly. "I will not have him destroying your peace."
"I know. I had a thought about that. I was wondering if he would come to me if I showed any sign of interest in him."
Rhys stopped walking. "Are you mad?"
"I don't think so." She looked at him quite calmly. "I'd do anything to keep him from destroying the queen and her child."
"Verity, I don't care about the queen. I care about you, and you are not offering yourself up as bait for a Vampire!"
"But I am a Llewellyn. I swore to lay down my life to defend the Tudor dynasty."
He saw the strength in her, the pride in her family name, and her desire to prove worthy of it. For a second, he remembered the sweet-natured little girl he'd grown up with, and he found it hard to reconcile her with the confident woman standing before him. But her quiet strength had always been there. He'd just been so blinded by Rosalind that he'd failed to see it.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. She deserved his trust. "You do your name great honor, my lady. Never doubt it."
"Then you will let me contact the Vampire?"
"If it becomes absolutely necessary, then yes, I'll agree to it."
He would never tell her that giving her his blessing was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, that all he wanted was to hold her in his arms and protect her.
"Thank you, Rhys. Your confidence in me means more than I can ever tell you." She hesitated and the color in her cheeks heightened. "I have not thanked you for what you did yesterday."
"When I made love to you?" He smiled. In some ways she was still the same shy girl. "You do not need to thank me for that."
She moved closer and cupped his cheek. "For not giving me your seed. I did not realize a man could . . ."
Her blush deepened and he kissed her hand again. "That a man could protect you like that? It is against the Church's teachings and not always failproof, but I will try to do what you wish."
"I think I am beginning to believe you." She looked into his eyes and everything around him seemed to go still. "And if that is true, I have nothing else to run away from, do I?"
"So?" He held his breath as she smiled at him.
"So I must admit that I love you."
He could only stare at her, speech beyond him as he struggled to understand the enormity of her words and how they changed everything.
"Rhys?"
He kissed her gently on the mouth, a lifelong pledge, a sign of everything she meant to him, and of everything she would become for him.
She sighed and kissed him back, relaxing against his chest as if she belonged there. He sent up a prayer of thanks to all his gods and let out his breath with a resounding shudder.
A flicker of motion caught Rhys's attention and he reluctantly spun around to find Elias at his elbow.
"Where is Olivia?" Elias demanded, without his usual exquisite manners.
"Olivia? I have no idea," Rhys answered, and Verity also shook her head, both of them caught unawares. "Is she not with the queen at this hour?"
"She is not." Elias produced a scrap of parchment. "I found this in her bedchamber. It appears to be the beginnings of a letter to you, Sir Rhys."
"What?" Rhys took the parchment and frowned at the neat handwriting. "Why would she be writing to me?"
"This letter alone would be enough to make any Vampire suspect her of conspiring with our enemies," Elias said. "If she was caught writing that and it was taken in evidence against her, she might already have been executed as a traitor and a spy."
"What?" Rhys grabbed hold of Elias's arm, the still-unfamiliar and unwelcome surge of Vampire power rising within him. "That cannot be allowed to happen. You have to find out what is going on and save her!"
Verity touched his shoulder, her expression distraught. "What can we do to help?"
Elias pulled free of Rhys's tenacious grasp. "First I will ascertain whether she has been taken by the Vampire Council. If she has, there is a very good possibility that I can save her."
"And if she has not?"
"Then we have to determine who has taken her and what does it have to do with the plot against the queen."
Rhys smashed one of his gloved hands into the other. "She drew attention to herself the other night when I stopped Dafydd Morgan from killing her."
"That's true. Mayhap someone took note of where her allegiances lie and decided to do something about it."
"By God's teeth," Rhys muttered. "I should not have intervened. Olivia could have just vanished and Dafydd would have been deprived of his kill." He swung back to Elias. "How quickly can you find out if the Council is holding her?"
"Quickly, Sir Rhys. I only stopped to tell you both what had happened and to make sure I was not mistaken. I will go to the Other Realm now."
Elias disappeared and Rhys was left staring at Verity.
She reached up and cupped his jaw. "This is not your fault."
"Then why do I feel so responsible?"
"Because you are a good man who cares about others even if they are Vampires."
"I exposed her. I might as well have signed her death warrant."
"Rhys, the Vampire is already connected to all of us through blood. He probably already knew about Olivia." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "Let's get back to the palace and I will search Olivia's room again to see if Elias missed anything important."
"I'll ask the other slayers if they have seen her as well," Rhys replied. "And then I'll meet you in the queen's chambers."
Verity surveyed the small attic room Olivia shared with another of the queen's ladies. The bed the two female Vampires shared was unmade and there appeared to have been a scuffle---a pitcher of water had been knocked over and the chest and desk were askew.
Verity inhaled slowly and immediately caught the scent of orange blossom mixed with lavender, which identified the room's two occupants. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the underlying aromas and caught other, more masculine smells. She recognized Elias's unmistakable wolf scent and another that was all too familiar, the smell of decay that emanated from the Vampire's servants.
It was enough for her to guess that Olivia hadn't left the room voluntarily. But exactly who had taken her and why? Verity checked through the clothes chest and under the sheets of the bed, but found nothing to help her. A damaged quill pen lay on the desk, but there was no more parchment or ink. Either Olivia had borrowed the parchment to write her letter or the evidence had been taken away with her.
Verity took one last slow look around the room and then headed for the door. As she pulled it open, the draft stirred the deadened air, bringing just the faintest hint of foxglove to her nose.
"Lady Rochford," Verity whispered.
She picked up her skirts and ran back down the stairs toward the queen's court.
Rhys waited for Verity at the open door to the queen's chambers and mentally berated himself for the manner in which he had dealt with Olivia at their last meeting. Within him, unaccustomed rage simmered and licked at his tight control. Had the Vampire blood affected him so profoundly, or was he simply allowing himself to be angry for once in his life? He was tired of being manipulated and damn tired of losing those he loved to this endless conflict.
"Well?" he demanded as Verity approached him. "Did you find out anything?"
Verity put her finger to her lips and beckoned him away from the doorway. "I'm fairly certain she was taken against her will. I do not think the Vampire Council is involved."
"Why is that?"
"Because I could smell Janus's servants and also a hint of another familiar Vampire---Lady Rochford."
Rhys frowned. "I have already taken a stroll around the queen's apartments. Queen Jane is sitting with the lady Mary. They are about to take the lady Elizabeth to bed. There is no sign of Lady Rochford."
"Then we must assume she is involved in Olivia's disappearance." Verity sighed. "We will have to wait until Elias returns to do anything."
"And he is in the Other Realm with the Vampire Council, where neither of us can reach him," Rhys muttered. "There must be something we can do."
Verity took a fortifying breath. "Don't forget, we must also watch out for Mistress Hopkins. She might be bringing us news about how to defeat the Vampire."
Rhys scowled. "Mistress Hopkins and the queen will have to wait."
Verity stepped away from him. "Rhys, that cannot happen. We are here to save the queen---you know that."
"Olivia is more important."
"Just because you feel guilty about her?" Verity stared at him wide-eyed. "Does that mean you intend to compromise your loyalty to the crown---and to me?"
He went still. "There is no need to be overdramatic, Verity."
She bit down hard on her lip. "I am not the one allowing my emotions to interfere with my duty."
Frustration rose in him. "And that is so like you, is it not? Never let it be said that you allow your emotions to rule you. You'd rather let your fears do that."
Color rose on her cheeks, but she kept her voice calm. "This isn't about my feelings. It is about your loyalty."
"Aye, my loyalty to Olivia."
"And to her half brother and his wife."
"Why do you have to bring Rosalind into everything?"
Verity stiffened. "Because your rash words speak of your loyalty to Rosalind and her husband's kin rather than to me."
"This is no time for jealousy, Verity."
"I am not jealous!" she snapped. "I am trying to make you see reason!"
He swung around to face her. "What exactly do you want from me?"
"We must put the queen first. It is our duty." She swallowed hard, her expression resolute. "You seem most unlike yourself. Please wait until Elias returns. We can hear what he has to say and make our decisions based on whether Olivia is held by the Vampire Council or not."
Rhys's hand flexed on his sword, but he bowed his head. His little Vampire slayer was developing wisdom. In other circumstances it would have pleased him greatly, but at the moment his desire to save Olivia threatened to consume him.
"I am obviously yours to command, my lady. I only hope this delay does not endanger Olivia further."
"If it does, Sir Rhys, you can blame me. I'm sure you will anyway. I will await Elias in the queen's chambers." With that, Verity walked away from him, her head held high.
Rhys decided to retreat to the outer courtyard and see if he could sense Elias's return to Hampton Court and intercept him before he reached Verity. Pacing in the cooler air would also help him to calm down and regain control of his emotions. He knew that Verity was right: They could do nothing until Elias returned. But he still didn't like it.
He took a deep, steadying breath of the humid air. Were all Vampires this easily roused beneath their cold exteriors? If so, Rhys could only marvel at Elias's control, although Elias was one of the most powerful Vampires around.
Rhys straightened as he felt a disturbance in his mind, and immediately focused his thoughts on Elias. To his relief, the Vampire appeared in the shadows of the exterior walls and made his way toward Rhys. He looked more troubled than Rhys had hoped.
"Did you find Olivia?"
"No. She is not being held by the Vampire Council."
"Verity believes that Lady Rochford is involved somehow."
"Lady Rochford?" Elias looked grim. "If so, she will pay dearly for her disobedience."
Elias looked over Rhys's shoulder. "Where is Lady Verity? I thought I sensed her quite close to you."
"She stayed with the queen."
"Are you sure?" Elias frowned.
Rhys suddenly went cold. For the first time he deliberately tried to locate Verity in his mind and found nothing. "Can you still sense her?"
"I can, although there seems to be something shielding her emotions."
Rhys drew his sword. "Can you take us to her?"
Elias reached out and touched his long, elegant fingers to Rhys's throat. The next moment they were in the small darkened anteroom beside the queen's bedchamber. As he righted himself, Rhys struggled not to crash into the ornate prie-dieu where the queen prayed.
Verity turned in surprise. She was talking to a white-robed figure that Rhys recognized as one of the Elders from the stone circle. He immediately went down on one knee. "Lady Alys."
She bade him rise. "Sir Rhys." Her melodious voice remained the same, as did the faint golden light that seemed to surround her body. "And Master Warner. We meet again."
Elias inclined his head. "My lady."
Verity ignored Rhys and went straight to Elias. "Did you find Olivia?"
"Unfortunately not. I suspect you are right and Lady Rochford and Janus have her."
Lady Alys nodded. "It is all one and the same. Janus must be stopped. It is forbidden for a Druid to seek Vampire powers as this man has done. That is why his blood is cursed and destroys from within. He betrays his race and yours, Master Warner."
"The Vampire Council were not pleased to hear that this Vampire has Druid blood. Janus deceived them."
"Then they will not stand in our way if we choose to punish him?" Lady Alys asked.
Elias's smile was cold. "They will not. I give you my word on that. Neither of our races sanctions those who defy our laws, which exist for good reason."
"Indeed, Master Warner." Lady Alys bowed her head. "Sometimes we must choose the lesser evil. In this case we believe Janus needs to be destroyed and we need your help."
Rhys cleared his throat. "Then what are we to do about Olivia?"
Lady Alys smiled at him. "If we stop the Vampire, all that you desire will be restored to you, Sir Rhys."
He opened his mouth to question her further and then glanced at Verity, who didn't look very happy at Lady Alys's choice of words. "Thank you, my lady."
Verity turned back to Lady Alys. "What exactly must we do to destroy Janus?"
"You must face him together, physically and mentally linked."
"The three of us?" Rhys asked.
"Aye. Master Warner's blood will play a crucial role in this too." Lady Alys looked serious. "We need to separate what remains of the Druid from the Vampire."
"How can that possibly be done?" Rhys said.
"With your shared link it is not only possible but proven to work." Her expression grew serious and she studied each one of them in turn. "But you must remain faithful and believe in each other. There is no room for uncertainty or doubt."
Verity looked at Rhys and he saw the worry in her blue eyes before she turned away.
Lady Alys held out a piece of parchment and gave it to Verity. "There is a spell you must speak together. You must keep repeating it until you feel the Vampire start to weaken in your minds."
"What happens if one of us is injured and we can't unite our powers?" Rhys asked.
"Then the Vampire will take what he wants and leave the rest of you to die."
"He will not succeed," Rhys said strongly. "We will make sure of it."
Lady Alys met his gaze. "I hope that is the case, Sir Rhys."
"But what of Olivia?"
Elias turned to Lady Alys. "Sir Rhys needn't concern himself. I can take care of Lady Rochford and Olivia. Lady Rochford will not escape justice."
Lady Alys cupped Verity's chin, her expression grave. "You will need all your courage to survive this, Verity. You will be tested in ways that you cannot imagine. You must remember that you are a Llewellyn and that you bear the mark of Awen. With the support of these two men, nothing can defeat you, even your worst nightmares."
She kissed Verity on the cheek. "I will be praying for you, and sending you my strength and light."
"Thank you, my lady," Verity whispered.
Lady Alys turned to Elias. "You are an ancient and powerful Vampire, Master Warner, yet you have still retained your humanity. I thank you for that, and for your help. Rest assured that if you ever need us, the Druid Elders will answer your prayers."
Finally Lady Alys came to Rhys, her white hair gleaming in the candlelight and her brow unlined. She put her hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. "Your destiny appears clouded, Sir Rhys, but stay true to your heart and all will be well." She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and he heard her faint whisper. "Lady Verity needs you. Stay strong for her, Vampire slayer, even when all seems lost."
She released him and then she seemed to shimmer and glow until she vanished in a cloud of golden light. Rhys exhaled and Elias lowered his hand from where he had shielded his face.
"Shall we leave this space? I would hate for the queen to find us here."
Verity nodded, her expression preoccupied. Rhys guided her and Elias out the nearest door and into the narrow servants' passageway that ran along the back of the queen's chambers.
"Where shall we go?"
Elias pointed at the far end of the corridor. "There is a vacant room down there."
Once they were all safely inside the chamber, Rhys turned to Elias. "I can sense Olivia. You can take us to her, can't you?"
"You can sense her?" Elias slowly inhaled as he examined Rhys's face. "Why do you have Olivia's scent on you?"
"I tended to a cut she had on her hand last night."
Elias raised his eyebrows. "With all due respect, Sir Rhys, your mouth must have touched her blood for you to have gained her scent."
Verity turned her back on Rhys and went to stand by the shuttered window, her shoulders rigid.
"I can't explain it, but I sealed the wound with my tongue," Rhys admitted. "It just seemed like the right thing to do."
Elias frowned. "The complications from joining my blood to yours continue to confound me. It might also explain why you are being so . . . protective toward Olivia. For our current purpose it is also a gift. Can you tell us exactly where she is?"
Rhys exhaled slowly. "I will try."
"Excellent." Elias took Verity's hand and came across to Rhys. "When you find her, I will take us to her."
Rhys closed his eyes and concentrated his thoughts on Olivia. Almost instantly he felt her fear and fought hard against a compulsion to sink into it with her. With all his strength he shared his image of Olivia with Elias and Verity.
"Ah." Elias nodded. "I can tell that Lady Rochford is not currently with her. It is a good opportunity for us to seek Olivia out and return her to her rightful place."
Before Rhys could say anything in response, the world disintegrated as Elias drew them into a whirlwind of blackness.
When Rhys came to his senses, it was still dark and it took him a moment to realize they were underground. There was stone beneath his feet and all around him. He sensed Verity to his right and reached for her.
"Are we under the palace?" Rhys asked.
"Aye," Elias whispered. "I believe we're in the old wine cellars that belonged to the priory that once stood here."
Rhys sniffed and realized there was indeed a faint hint of rotting oak caskets and stale wine in the unmoving air. There was also the more recent scent of blood. He reached into his leather pocket. "I have flint and a candle. Do you need me to light the way?"
"Not yet," Elias answered. "I'm not quite sure whether Olivia will be under guard. We need to proceed with caution and use our other senses. I'll follow after you."
Rhys closed his eyes for a second and allowed his feet to find the right direction. Elias followed him and Verity brought up the rear. Eventually the stone passageway swung sharply to the right. Rhys rested his hand on the wall and waited for the other two to catch up.
"She is very close, but I cannot get a response from her at all."
Elias touched his sleeve. "Speak like this. It is much quieter."
Inwardly Rhys winced at the reminder. "Can either of you sense any other Vampires?"
"Yes," Verity said. "There are two males quite close to her. They smell of Janus."
"Let me deal with them, Sir Rhys."
"You may try, but I will be right behind you and I will kill them if necessary."
"Agreed."
Elias moved around Rhys and proceeded to the right. Verity tried to get by too, but Rhys placed his hand flat on her chest. "Stay here. Keep watch."
She didn't bother to argue with him and she stopped moving. Rhys realized that was the best he could expect. He squeezed her arm and hurried after Elias.
Elias had almost reached two shadowy figures who lounged by a doorway, but he didn't wait for Rhys. There was a short exchange of words and then Elias smiled and looked back at Rhys.
"Olivia is locked in here and these gentlemen refuse to release her."
"Indeed." Rhys kept moving forward, his dagger out, his mind cataloging the two scrawny Vampires and their obvious discomfort. "Perhaps we might help them change their minds?"
Elias held up his hand and Rhys felt a surge of power rock through him. Elias's voice came through clearly in his head.
"You might wish to shield yourself from what I am about to do."
Even as he spoke, cold, deadly power flooded through Rhys and he backed against the nearest wall. As Elias raised his hand higher, the two Vampires started to rise from the floor like ungainly puppets jerking on tangled strings. Their mouths were open, their fangs exposed, but they made no sound.
Elias snapped his fingers and the Vampires turned on each other, ripping at each other's throat until their bodies were one writhing mass of limbs and blood. Even though he tried to protect his mind from Elias's power, Rhys couldn't look away as the Vampires fell to the ground and went still.
Elias strolled over to the bodies and extracted a key from the belt of the larger of the two. Rhys joined him more cautiously.
"Are they dead?"
"Not yet."
Rhys swallowed hard. "Should I kill them?"
Elias shrugged. "It is up to you."
"Kill them, Rhys. No one should be left like that."
Rhys almost jumped when he heard Verity's quiet voice behind him. Even though it was too late, he tried to shield her from the gruesome sight.
Verity stopped him. "Please, kill them. I do not have my sword or else I would do it myself. There are no other Vampires around, so there is no need to fear discovery."
"Aye, my lady." Rhys drew his sword and efficiently decapitated both of the Vampires and then used his silver-coated dagger to stab them through their hearts. Verity and Elias watched him in silence.
Rhys glanced up at Elias. "Surely you did not want to leave the Vampires alive? The Vampire Council would know who had forced them to capitulate."
"At this point in time, I don't care what the Vampire Council thinks," Elias said. "If we don't win this struggle I will be disposed of anyway." He held up the key. "Shall I open the door or do you wish to do it?"
"Go ahead," Rhys replied. "I'll take care of these bodies and keep watch out here."
Part of him yearned to push both Verity and Elias aside and run to Olivia, but he knew it was the Vampire blood within him that wanted that and not his true self. What was it that Lady Alys had told him about being true to his heart? Olivia was not the woman who owned his heart and he needed to remember that, despite the turmoil in his blood and in his mind.
"Olivia?" Verity peered into the blackness of the small chamber. "Are you here?"
A faint scratching sound drew Verity's attention to the back of the room and she carefully made her way across to the huddled shape on the thin straw pallet. She reached out to uncover the figure and Elias's hand closed around her wrist.
"Wait, my lady. She might not be quite herself."
Elias gently put himself in front of Verity and crouched down beside the pallet. "Olivia?" He tugged at the coarse woolen blanket.
With a gasp, Verity leapt backward as Olivia emerged from the cocoon of blankets, her fangs elongated and her claws extended. She did not look remotely human as she latched onto Elias's wrist and held on tightly, her fangs buried deeply in his flesh.
Verity swallowed hard as she experienced Elias's instinctive acceptance of Olivia's actions. She touched his shoulder. "Do you want me to make her stop?"
He looked up at her, a furious expression on his normally calm face. "I do not think you would be able to. She has been deliberately drained of blood to prepare her to take the master Vampire. If she doesn't feed, she will die. Much better my blood than his."
He glanced down at Olivia and stroked her hair. "All will be well with her very shortly. Why don't you find Sir Rhys? In his present condition I suspect this would disturb him."
"Yes, I'll do that." Verity scrambled to her feet and backed away, only to be brought up against a broad chest. She turned into Rhys's arms and looked up at him. He wasn't even aware of her; his gaze was fixed on Elias and Olivia.
Verity pushed on his chest until he retreated a few stumbling steps back into the passageway. "Olivia will be fine. Just give her a moment."
Rhys frowned. "What exactly is Elias doing?"
"He's feeding her. She is very weak."
"She could have . . ."
"Fed from you?" Verity forced a smile. "I don't think so. She is starving."
"And I'm not a Vampire." Rhys exhaled. "Why do I keep having to remind myself of that lately?"
"Because we've all been influenced by this mingling of our blood. Elias feels more human and is fighting that by displaying his Vampire power, I'm struggling to stop Janus from controlling my thoughts, and you . . ."
"I am acting like a fool," Rhys said grimly. He stared at Verity. "I don't want Olivia, Verity. I want you."
Verity smiled at him. "So you keep saying." It was ironic that from the moment she had declared her love for him he'd done nothing but worry about another woman. She glanced down the passageway. "Have you seen any more Vampires around? It seems odd that no one else has appeared to check on Olivia."
"It does seem strange." Rhys frowned, his attention diverted, just as Verity had intended. "And where is Lady Rochford? You would think that she of all people would be more mindful of her captive's security."
Verity grabbed Rhys's arm. "Maybe it was a deliberate attempt to draw us away from the queen. Would Lady Rochford dare to defy Elias like that?"
"She had better not." Elias appeared behind them with Olivia in his arms, his expression formidable. "Let's get Olivia to safety and find Lady Rochford."
Verity took Rhys's hand and then Elias's and the next moment they were aboveground in the gardens of Hampton Court.
"Wait here for me," Elias instructed. "I'll put Olivia to bed."
He vanished and Verity took the opportunity to get to her feet and brush at her dusty skirts. Beside her, Rhys was staring up at the palace, his dagger in his hand.
"Something is amiss, my lady. Can you feel it?"
Verity went still. "Yes. Janus is stirring and seeking food."
Elias reappeared and Rhys hailed him. "Is Olivia going to be all right?"
"I believe so. She is young and strong."
Verity shuddered. "I'm just glad you made me step away from her, Elias, or else I fear she would have latched on to me and drained me dry."
Elias held up his hand, his attention distracted. "I think Lady Rochford is about to emerge from the palace. Let me summon her."
In an instant, Lady Rochford was sprawled on the grass in front of Elias. When she saw him, her mouth opened to scream, but he snapped his fingers and she was drawn upright until she was suspended several inches above the ground.
"What are you about this fine evening, Lady Rochford?"
Verity shivered at the coldness of his tone.
"N-n-nothing, Master Warner," Lady Rochford stuttered.
"Liar." Elias took a step toward her. "You have been meddling again, haven't you? Are you incapable of listening?"
"I don't know what you mean, sir."
Elias slowly circled her. "Why did you kidnap Olivia Del Alonso?"
"I didn't!"
"Liar." Elias snapped his fingers again and Lady Rochford clawed at her throat as though she was having trouble breathing. "I know what you did. Your scent and that of your master were all over her."
"I told you before, sir. I cannot disobey my master."
"So you did kidnap Olivia."
"You told me to report to you if my master came to the queen! You said nothing about getting rid of a traitor to our race."
"Olivia is no traitor. She has been working for me."
Lady Rochford's eyes flashed red. "And you have been working with these accursed Druids!"
"All with the sanction of the Vampire Council. Did your master not tell you that?"
"You are lying. The Council would never allow you to consort with our enemies."
Elias shook his head. "You know that is false. How else did we get rid of your obnoxious husband, George, and his 'sister,' Anne Boleyn? You knew they were lovers. Wasn't that one of the reasons you agreed to betray them?"
"You are a foul, treacherous male!" Lady Rochford hissed and tried to struggle against the magic that held her in the air.
"I am a survivor." Elias stepped close to Lady Rochford's face. "Now tell me what is really going on."
Verity tensed and Rhys grabbed hold of her arm. "Do not interfere, my lady."
Lady Rochford said nothing and Elias shook his head. "You will tell me."
Verity jumped as both Elias and Lady Rochford shot up into the air. She looked up and saw Elias's pale green doublet silhouetted against the stark red of the crenellated wall that ran around the rooftops and huge chimneys.
"Where is Lady Rochford?" Verity asked.
Rhys pointed to Elias's left. "There, hanging half over the wall." Rhys shuddered. "He's ripped open her throat and her blood is slowly draining out of her. Can't you see it in your mind?"
"By all the saints, I don't want to see it."
"Then let me tell you what is going on." Rhys drew her against him. "Elias is giving her one last chance to tell him what she is planning. She's frightened and pleading with him to let her go."
Verity buried her face against Rhys's chest. "Go on."
"She's admitting that kidnapping Olivia was a diversion and that her master will soon be with the queen. As soon as the babe is born he will gain all the power he needs to rule both the kingdom and the Vampire Council."
Verity pushed away from him and picked up her skirts. "Then we must hurry! Come on!"
"We need Elias for the charm to work, remember?"
"He can meet us there!" She started to run toward the queen's quarters, her heavy skirts gathered in one hand, her dagger in the other. As she opened the door, the scent of magic spilled out of the queen's anterooms and Verity increased her pace. Where were the queen's ladies on this night? Where were the guards?
Rhys followed at her shoulder, his sword already drawn as they traversed the apparently deserted rooms.
"Where is everyone?" Rhys whispered.
"I don't know!"
Elias appeared in front of them, his doublet stained dark with blood and his fangs still extended. He no longer looked human, but Verity wasn't frightened. In truth, waves of power rolled off him and Verity drank them in.
"The majority of the court is at prayer in the chapel. The rest have been bespelled," Elias said.
"Where is the queen?" Verity asked.
Elias jerked his head in the direction of the queen's bedchamber. "If Lady Rochford is to be believed, the queen is here, resting in her bed."
"Did you kill Lady Rochford?"
Elias looked back at her. "No, I didn't. But if she manages to survive I don't think she'll amount to much."
Verity held his bloodred gaze. "Good."
Elias licked his fangs. "I admire a female who appreciates vengeance."
Verity led the way into the small antechamber where she had previously met Lady Alys. All the candles on the prie-dieu were out. The door to the queen's chamber was shut.
"Let me look in first," Verity whispered. "If the queen is awake, she will not be surprised to see my face."
Rhys nodded and Verity carefully turned the handle and opened the door. Queen Jane lay in the center of the bed, her sallow face turned toward the opposite wall, her breathing shallow but regular. Verity took a deep, shaky breath and looked back at Rhys. "The queen is alone at the moment, but not, I fear, for long. I sense Janus and his accomplices approaching." She pointed at the ornate screen that shielded the queen's washbasin and other necessities. "I suggest we conceal ourselves behind that screen until they arrive and we find out exactly whom we are dealing with."
Rhys beckoned to Elias and they silently filed into the queen's bedchamber and moved behind the tapestry screen. They barely fit into the small space, he and Elias in front of Verity. He could feel it now too, the sense of approaching evil, the dread sickness of decay and desolation that had haunted his very soul.
The door to the queen's chamber opened and Rhys stiffened. A cloaked figure entered, carrying a bundle in his arms.
"Lord Thomas Seymour." Elias's spoken thought sounded loud in Rhys's head.
The figure walked toward the queen's bed, but the queen didn't stir.
"Look, my precious. She is almost gone," Lord Thomas Seymour whispered and Rhys frowned. Who was he talking to? Verity gripped his arm.
"The other Vampire scent. Can either of you smell it?"
"I smell Vampire." Elias answered. "What do you smell, my lady?"
"Pansies."
Rhys looked carefully around the bedchamber. "But where is the female?"
"She is here."
"Is it the queen? Has she been turned?" Rhys asked.
"No." Verity's grip on his arm tightened. "Oh my God."
Rhys turned back to see Lord Thomas Seymour placing his bundle on the floor. A child emerged from the coverings and stared at the bed. The moonlight caught on hair as red as Rhys's own.
"See, little princess?" Lord Thomas said. "Soon Queen Jane will be no more and you and I will rule this kingdom together."
A childish chuckle escaped from the little girl, making Rhys shiver. "What in God's name is the lady Elizabeth doing here?"
"I know not," Verity replied. "But she is not yet a full Vampire."
"Perhaps this has something to do with avenging her mother," Elias said, "or it might simply be that Lord Thomas Seymour is not completely committed to his Vampire master. Mayhap he wishes to have another plan, just in case Janus betrays him."
"Neither of these two can take the queen's blood, so what are we waiting for?" Rhys demanded. Behind him Verity made a stifled sound and he turned. "What is it?"
"Janus is coming. We need to stop him."
Verity grabbed hold of Rhys's hand and then Elias's as the Vampire's power eased closer and closer.
"He'll be on us any second. Let's start reciting the charm. As long as one of us keeps chanting and we maintain our link, we will succeed."
Call back the blood unlawfully shared
Return it to its source.
Destroy the vessel ever more
Let vengeance take its course.
As they chanted, Janus appeared on the opposite side of the bed and Rhys strained to see the figure more clearly. For some reason he'd been expecting someone older, but the man appeared his own age, though somewhat unwell. Even as Rhys continued chanting, his mind worked furiously to remember where he had seen him before.
The Vampire leaned over the bed and stared at the sleeping queen before slowly trailing his fingers down from her waxen cheek to her throat. The queen didn't stir and Rhys wondered whether she was bespelled or simply too exhausted to react.
Suddenly the screen was lifted into the air and smashed against the wall, exposing them all to the Vampire's gaze. Instinctively, Rhys and Elias closed ranks, protecting Verity behind them. Rhys drew his sword and pointed it at the Vampire's throat. Janus smiled to display long, rotting fangs.
"Whatever you are trying to do, Vampire slayer, it will not succeed."
Rhys recognized that voice. It was the mocking tones of the young Welshman who had challenged him to a fight and later taunted him about Verity.
"You're behind all this?"
"Aye. Don't sound so surprised." Janus laughed, his gaze turning toward Lord Thomas Seymour, who had gathered up the lady Elizabeth in his arms and backed against the door. "You may leave, Thomas. I will not need you or the child tonight. By the time I've finished, these three will have killed the queen and suffered the consequences."
Somewhere in his mind, Rhys was aware of Verity's distress hammering at him, but he couldn't afford to drop his gaze from the Vampire.
"You don't want to kill the queen," Rhys said. "You want her child to live."
Janus glanced at the sleeping queen and drew his dagger. "That is true, but if you kill her for me tonight, I can rip the child from her womb and make sure he lives. The king will believe I'm a hero and you will all be executed." The Vampire grimaced and slapped at his face as if something had stung him.
"You will be the only one dying here tonight," Elias said. "Not us."
"Brave words from a traitor." Janus turned his gaze toward Elias. "I will make sure you die horribly, Master Warner, and I will assume your role at court and wipe out the Llewellyn family once and for all."
Elias raised his eyebrows. "I am no traitor, sir. I am here at the Vampire Council's request to put an end to you."
"You lie!" Janus snarled. "They are completely in my power. They want you to fail, don't you know that?"
In Rhys's mind, Elias spoke. "Imagine his blood separating as you speak the words. Imagine him disintegrating."
"Rhys!"
Verity was screaming inside his head now and Rhys squeezed her hand until he felt her bones crack. "Whatever it is, Verity, you must not stop saying the words or we will all die!"
He concentrated on Janus again, saw strange purplish-colored bruises emerging on his face.
"Stop it!" The Vampire clawed at his throat. "You cannot defeat me! I am the one who destroys from within, not you pathetic specimens."
Elias smiled. "We have your blood; we can destroy you. The Druid Elders are quite happy for you to remain a Vampire---as long as you return every last drop of your Druid blood to them. It's a pity that loss will tear you apart."
"That isn't true. The Elders would never share their power with you," the Vampire snarled.
"But they have and we shall defeat you."
"Rhys!" Verity cried out loud and fell to her knees. Grimly, Rhys kept his hold on her, his fingers biting into her upper arm. Elias held on too. There was no way they could physically fight Janus, linked as they were. Rhys stared in fascination as sores erupted on the Vampire's face and the smell of decaying flesh deepened. He pictured Janus's blood and lovingly imagined it seeping out of the wounds, trickling to the ground, and returning to the earth as a living sacrifice that the stones would surely appreciate.
He sensed Verity weakening. Her words were slurring and she seemed terrified, which was most unlike her.
Janus held out his hand, which was rapidly discoloring. "Verity, stop them. You cannot allow this."
Verity shook her head. "No, I cannot let you succeed. I cannot!"
"Even if you destroy me? You would leave me to my fate again?"
"No!" Verity screamed and Rhys recoiled at the raw anguish in her voice.
"But I came back for you. I want you." Janus took two stumbling steps toward Verity, his hand outstretched, his skin bubbling and boiling as if he was being burned from the inside out.
"God, no! Don't touch me!" Verity whispered.
Horror flooded through Verity. Something in Janus's voice compelled her to go to him and take his hand.
His smile was ghastly and triumphant. "That's right, Verity. Acknowledge your true master. Bow down before me and accept your punishment."
His insidious voice echoed in her head and his corrupt, bloodied power flooded through her, making her want to scream. If she went to him, would the torment stop? Would her sacrifice save Elias and Rhys?
She tried to break the link connecting her to Rhys and Elias, but both of them held on, Elias increasing his power until it sustained all three of them and beat against the walls of the room like a ravaging storm.
"Don't you owe me something, Verity? After abandoning me---leaving me to become . . . this?"
The Vampire stopped moving forward and simply stared at her. She found it impossible to look away, her mind helplessly cataloging his familiar features even as it recoiled from the reality of his physical presence.
"You're mine, Verity," he said aloud.
Beside her, Rhys tensed and his sword flashed out. "Come any closer, Vampire, and I'll take your head off."
Verity forced herself to look at the monster. "I am not yours. You are no longer living."
"Yet I am here." He held out his hand. "Come to me."
She gasped as Rhys jerked her arm, forcing her to look at him. "Verity, love, you can fight him. Keep saying the charm with us. Send him on his way to hell."
Verity stared at Rhys for a long moment and then nodded. She closed her eyes against the horror and sent all her energy and passion into the words of the chant.
Call back the blood unlawfully shared.Return it to its source.Destroy the vessel ever more,Let vengeance take its course.
Rhys and Elias joined her and the Vampire started to scream. She could smell his tainted blood oozing from his sores. His voice rose in a crescendo that made all the glass in the room shake and finally shatter as with a last howl of anguish, the Vampire disappeared.
Verity started to scream then and Rhys was there, his arms tight around her, his voice murmuring soft nothings as Elias removed them both from the queen's presence. She vaguely heard Elias's voice.
"I'll inform the king and make sure the queen is safe and have her taken to a different bedchamber. Thank God she slept through the whole thing."
"And you will see that Olivia is well too?"
"Of course, Sir Rhys." Elias hesitated. "Do you need my help with Lady Verity?"
"No, she will be fine."
Verity wanted to laugh at that. Didn't Rhys understand that nothing would ever be the same again? A sob tore through her and she shuddered against his chest.
"It's all right, cariad. He's gone."
Verity forced herself to push away from Rhys's comforting embrace. She discovered that they were in her bedchamber and someone had turned down her bed and lit a single candle. After the horror she had experienced, the homely scene made her want to weep.
"I betrayed you and Elias."
Rhys kissed her tightly clenched fist. "You did your part. You stood your ground bravely." She stared at him until he frowned. "What is it, bach?"
"Did you not recognize him?"
"Indeed I did. It was the Welshman I fought just after I arrived here and who has been taunting me ever since." His mouth twisted. "I felt his power, but I assumed he had been turned by the master Vampire. I'm ashamed he managed to conceal his true power from me so easily."
"Rhys . . ." She shook her head, almost unable to continue.
"What?"
"That was Gareth." He looked uncomprehending. "My husband."
His breath hissed out. "Your husband?"
She saw the flash of repugnance he could not conceal. "It's all my fault, Rhys, all of it. Elias was right: The blood connection is with me. I'm the one who let him in."
Rhys reached for her, but she flinched away. "Verity, love, it isn't your fault. You didn't know that Gareth had been turned."
"But I am responsible. It is because of me he is a Vampire. I left him with those monsters." She was aware that her voice was rising, but she could do nothing to stop it.
Rhys grasped her by the shoulders. "You did what you could. From what you told me, you barely escaped with your own life." He shook her gently. "Gareth made his own choices. He may not have asked to become a Vampire, but no one forced him to plot against the king and queen."
"Why didn't I recognize him sooner? He sounded so different in my head."
Rhys poured water from her jug into the bowl and brought it over to her, along with a damp cloth to wipe her face and hands. "It's been a long while since you've seen him, and he was probably being careful not to reveal himself too clearly."
Verity shivered. "Oh God, Rhys, it was horrible---as if I was walking through my worst nightmare."
He put down the bowl and went to embrace her, but she pulled away again. She washed her hands and her face, yet she couldn't erase the taste and smell of death from her skin. Rhys sat next to her on the bed and watched her, his expression concerned.
"Are you injured, my lady?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Well, that is good." Rhys took the bowl from her and emptied the water out the window into the courtyard below.
"I feel . . ." Verity wrapped her arms around herself. "I feel as if I need to scrub my skin raw to be rid of him. But I will never be rid of him, will I? He's my husband."
"Verity, Gareth died ten years ago. He is no longer alive."
Verity ignored Rhys's quiet interruption. "All that I thought I had found with you? What does it mean now that I am an adulterer?"
Rhys grabbed her hand. "Gareth is dead. That . . . thing you saw today, that wasn't him. That was a Vampire. You are no more tied to him than I am to Elias or Olivia!"
Verity couldn't even look at him. "Then why does it feel as if I am?" she whispered.
Rhys got down on his knees in front of her and took her hands. "Gareth is dead. We just made sure of that, didn't we? You and I are very much alive. I love you and I will not allow you to forget everything between us."
Verity stared into his beautiful hazel eyes. "You don't understand," she whispered. "We didn't kill him. He's still out there. I can sense him in my head."
"Verity says the Vampire is still alive." Rhys paced the floorboards in the anteroom of Elias's chambers. He'd left a stricken Verity and sought the counsel of Elias. Elias had emerged from his bedchamber wearing only his open-necked shirt and hose and he looked as if he had been trying without success to rest.
"Well, she should know."
Rhys glanced sharply at his unsmiling companion. "Did you know about her connection to the Vampire?"
"Only when I saw them together tonight. I realized then that the blood connection was between them." Elias paused. "I assume that the man is her husband?"
"Was her husband. That man was turned ten years ago."
Elias's eyebrows rose at Rhys's terse tone. "Does Lady Verity still consider herself married, then?"
"She . . ." Rhys shut his mouth and took another turn around the small room. "How is Olivia?"
Elias gestured toward his bedchamber. "She is very weak, but recovering slowly. I intend to keep her safe until she is able to hunt for herself again."
"That is good of you."
Elias shrugged. "She took a lot of my blood. I am responsible for her now."
Rhys managed a small smile. "She won't like that at all."
"I know, but I'm sure we will be able to come to some amicable arrangement."
Rhys could only look skeptical as he contemplated Olivia's reaction to the news that she owed her existence to Elias. He almost wished he could be present, but there were deadlier matters afoot.
"The queen is unharmed as well?"
"Yes. I alerted the king as to the need to move the queen into complete seclusion and he was more than happy to agree."
"But she won't live through this, will she?" Rhys met Elias's gaze.
"I fear not, Sir Rhys. She has been too badly weakened. But I have high hopes for the child."
"At least that is something." Rhys sighed and shoved a hand through his already disordered hair. "Will you come and speak to Verity with me?"
"About what?"
"About the fact that she is not married to that abomination," Rhys said grimly.
"I would be delighted to set her fears to rest." Elias bowed. "Let me just ascertain that Olivia is still sleeping and I'll put on my doublet."
Verity didn't even blink when Elias and Rhys appeared in her bedchamber. Rhys had already woken her from her half daze and sent her a warning of their coming in her mind. She'd wrapped a shawl around herself against the constant shivering and sat on the bed.
"Lady Verity." Elias bowed. "You believe Janus is still in existence?"
Verity nodded. "I can sense him. He is faint, but he is there."
Elias said nothing for a long moment and she felt the gentle pressure of his mind moving with hers. "Yes, I can feel him too. I wonder whether the spell will continue to work without us." His mouth turned down. "I dislike the idea of all our efforts being for naught."
"Lady Alys will know. Mayhap I should go to the stone circle and ask her advice," Rhys said, his expression pensive.
"I should come with you." Verity pushed back the covers, but Rhys pulled them up again.
"You should stay here. Janus might be out there somewhere."
"I will be safe in the stone circle."
Rhys met her gaze. "I'm no longer certain of that, since Janus is not only a Druid but linked to you by blood on the Beltane altar."
Verity pushed his hand away and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "He could just as easily find me here, Rhys. I'd feel safer coming with you and Elias." Despite her fear, she refused to let herself cower beneath the sheets like a child. "I have to stop running away from things. Just let me get dressed."
She pulled out her boy's clothing from the carved wooden chest and laid the garments on the bed. "What are we going to do about Lord Thomas Seymour and Lady Elizabeth?"
Rhys shifted his weight against the door. "I'm not sure what we should do. I'm certainly reluctant to inform the king that his daughter is a Vampire."
"I'm not sure that she is," Elias said cautiously. "I suspect she is in a similar position to Lord Christopher Ellis, being neither wholly Vampire nor completely human."
"That would explain why her scent was so muted," Verity said in agreement. "I don't think we should say anything. I fear the king would kill her."
Elias sighed. "I'll have to tell the Vampire Council something."
"And what about Lord Thomas?" Rhys asked. "I hear he has taken to his bed. Will he be affected by the loss of his master?"
Verity bit her lip. "His master is not dead yet."
Rhys met her gaze. "But his powers are considerably diminished."
"Whether Lord Thomas recovers depends on how deep his bond with the Vampire went," Elias said. "He could simply die, or it is possible that he might never even remember he was once in the Vampire's thrall."
Rhys pushed away from the wall, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "So we let him go free as well?"
"I don't see what else we can do, Sir Rhys," Elias replied. "It is my duty to tell the Vampire Council about both of them. It is up to you and Lady Verity as to what you want to tell the king."
"Then let us leave the fates of Lord Thomas and the princess to others and concentrate our efforts on finding and killing Janus."
Elias and Rhys turned their backs and, despite her trembling fingers, Verity forced herself to change clothes and braid her hair. She found it hard to believe that despite everything she had brought down on them, Rhys and Elias were still willing to help her.
"I'm ready." Verity said.
Elias took her hand and then Rhys's, and they were transported through the night sky to the outskirts of the stone circle. A small fire burned in the center of the circle and they made their way to it.
Lady Alys was feeding dried herbs to the fire, her eyes closed, her mouth moving in ritual prayer. Eventually she looked up, her expression concerned.
"The Vampire?"
Rhys knelt and glanced at the others. "He vanished while we were chanting and he is not completely dead. Will the spell continue to work on him now that he has escaped us?"
"I'm not sure, Sir Rhys." Lady Alys sighed. "It has been so long since we have used such magic that we are unsure of the outcome."
"Then Janus needs to be pursued and killed," Rhys stated flatly.
"He will be hard to catch," Elias said. "I understand that he has many friends among the Vampire communities in France and beyond."
"I doubt they will be quite as pleased to see him in his present diminished state, and with the knowledge that the Vampire Council is hunting him as well."
Elias nodded. "The Council would prefer his death---I am sure of it."
"He is weak enough for you to kill him now, but if he survives another month or two, he will start to grow stronger again---unless you can stop him."
Rhys heard Verity's indrawn breath and cursed her need to accompany them on this quest for information. "We'll stop him, Lady Alys. I swear it."
He reached for Verity's hand. "Please, madam, can you tell my lady that she is not married to that Vampire?"
"My child, Gareth no longer exists as you knew him. Janus is a creature with no soul and no mercy. He is not the man you married, and you are no longer bound to him."
"Are you sure?" Verity asked.
"As a Druid, yes. I do not know what your Christian God would say, but I assume that once the immortal soul has been taken from the body, then the body is considered dead."
"That is what I have always believed, my lady," Rhys said.
Lady Alys glanced at him and then at Verity. "She has become important to you, then, Vampire slayer?"
"I love her, Lady Alys."
Verity tried to pull out of his grasp, but he tightened his grip. "When Elias and I have disposed of this Vampire for good, I shall return to court and marry Lady Verity."
"You will not!" Verity whispered. "I have brought you nothing but trouble."
He looked down at her. "Aye, I will. It might take me years to persuade you, but I will succeed in the end. I know it in my soul."
Lady Alys laughed, the sound surprisingly light in the midst of all the darkness. "It sounds as if you need some good fortune, Sir Rhys. Kill this Vampire and I will assist you in any way I can to achieve your dreams."
"Thank you, my lady." Rhys bowed to the Elder, who stepped aside to talk to Elias. He stared at Verity's lowered head.
"We will marry, Verity. I love you."
"And I love you too." She touched his cheek. "But it doesn't make any difference, does it?"
"What do you mean?"
"There is still Gareth."
"He is dead."
"I saw him, Rhys. He knew me. How can he be dead?"
Rhys set his jaw. "I will find him and kill him for you."
"But I don't want you to do that."
"Why not?"
"Because I do not want you to have to live with that stain on your conscience."
"You think I will feel guilty for killing him?"
"If you benefit from his death, yes."
Rhys took her face between his hands. "Verity, love, listen to me. I'll kill him because he is a Vampire. That's the whole of it. I do not believe he is your husband."
"Are you sure?"
Rhys made her look into his eyes. "I am. You have to have faith in me, my lady. You have to forget your own fears and allow me to do my job as efficiently as I can."
She swallowed hard. "This is so difficult for me, Rhys. Can't you understand that?"
"I understand, but I need to know that you believe in me and support me---just as I am willing to die for you if necessary."
"But I don't want you to die. I want you to come back so that we can . . ."
"What? Be together? Love each other, marry, and have a dozen redheaded children?"
She exhaled. "Do all the things that I have dreamed of. I do not want to lose you again, Rhys Williams. I love you too much." She studied him for a long while as if learning his face. "God go with you on your hunt, then."
"You will wait for me here and take care of the queen and Olivia? I know you are more than capable of defending them."
"Indeed I will," Verity answered.
Rhys bent his head and covered her mouth with his own. He wanted to take her to bed and show her how much he cared and how much she needed him, but there simply wasn't time. Janus needed to be tracked and caught as soon as possible. And then she would be his with no shadows between them ever again.
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I know."
"I love you, cariad."
"I love you too."
He kissed her again, his tongue possessing her mouth, and felt her instant response fire his blood. She stood on tiptoe and fitted herself against him. In her boy's attire he could cup her fine bottom in his hands and press her against his needy cock.
Elias cleared his throat. "Sir Rhys?"
Rhys reluctantly became aware that Lady Alys had left and they were still standing in the shadows of the stone circle. He released Verity and turned his head toward Elias.
"I know. We must leave."
Elias hesitated. "Speed is important if we wish to catch our miscreant before he leaves the country. Lady Alys does not believe he will be able to use much of his power in his current weakened state. He'll probably have to try to reach the coast and sail for France."
"We'll catch him." Rhys glanced down at Verity's now reddened lips and wanted to howl. "I just wish I had a few hours to . . ."
"To spare for me?" Verity whispered. She stroked his cheek. "I wish you did too, but your duty must come first."
"I suppose it must." Rhys nodded at Elias. "Take us back to the palace and we'll leave as soon as I can saddle my horse."
Elias took them each by the hand. "I fear it will take me a little longer to get ready, Sir Rhys. I need to speak to the Vampire Council. Perhaps in an hour?"
Verity smiled up at him, her eyes full of sensual promise, and Rhys smiled back. "That would suit me admirably, Master Warner."
Turn the page for an exciting excerpt from Kiss of the Rose,the first book in the Tudor Vampire Chronicles.Available now from Signet Eclipse.
Llanllawer Church, Pembrokeshire, Wales, 1485
He needed a miracle. Here he was, on the brink of a battle for the crown of England, and it was increasingly obvious that God wasn't listening to his desperate prayers. Henry Tudor rose from his knees, made the sign of the cross, and backed away from the altar. A single tallow candle illuminated a handful of dilapidated pews and a ragged altar cloth, tattered and chewed by vermin.
There was only one thing left to do, and it would be the biggest gamble of his life. He'd left the Earl of Oxford in charge of his pitifully few troops and brought his Welsh companion, Sir John Llewellyn, as his guide. They were the only two men who knew he had left his sleeping army and gone out into the countryside, ostensibly to pray at the church but in reality to do so much more.
"Are you ready, my lord?"
Henry relaxed as John's familiar dark-featured face emerged from the gloom. John's knowledge of the Welsh countryside had proved invaluable. He'd found Henry the perfect place for his needs, a place where the old religion of the Druids lodged uneasily alongside the new.
"Is it true there was a battle fought here, John?" Henry asked as his friend led him away from the church and down into the all-encompassing darkness beyond.
"Aye, my lord. Parc-y-Meirw means 'Field of the Dead.' A fitting omen for your upcoming victory over King Richard."
"Indeed." Or a reminder of just how quickly an overambitious man could fail . . .
John stepped aside to reveal a low huddle of stones. "This is the Holy Well I spoke of. It is said the spring leads directly to the old gods, who will listen favorably to the prayers of anyone who offers them a tribute."
Henry strained his eyes to make out the dimensions of the less than impressive stone arch that covered the entrance to the spring. The sound of water trickled and echoed deep in the ground below his feet. He crouched down and shuddered when his fingertips slicked over decaying plants and dipped into ice-cold water.
"I shall make an offering, then." He found a coin and threw it into the small gaping mouth of the well. Was he throwing away his immortal soul as well? Richard Plantagenet was a formidable opponent on and off the battlefield.
"Are you all right, sir?"
"Go back to the church and wait for me there. I will do what I must do alone."
"Nay, sir. I promised Lord de Vere I wouldn't let you out of my sight."
"Even if what you see will imperil your soul, your chance of paradise, and the glorious resurrection?"
To Henry's surprise, John smiled. "Sir, I am prepared to walk through hell itself to protect you."
Henry let out his breath. "All right, then, best get on with it. Do you have the vessel?"
"Aye, sir."
"Fill it with water and give it to me."
Henry withdrew his dagger. Strange that both the old and the new religions demanded blood. He slashed the blade across the fleshy pad of his thumb and allowed his blood to drip into the narrow opening of the pot. He was unsure exactly how much was needed. Tales of the Druids draining their sacrificial victims dry were commonplace. Even the Christian God had allowed his precious son to be crucified, bloodied nails hammered through his hands, a sword thrust in his side . . .
Henry took a deep, steadying breath and sucked his thumb into his mouth, waited until the sickly coppery flow slowed and stopped. "Show me where the stones are."
He could see better now, and did not hesitate as he followed John toward the ominous row of shadows bordering the field. He reached the first stone, which was about one and a half times his height, and put his hand on it. The stone quivered and warmed to his touch as if he had somehow awakened it.
He snatched back his hand and examined the smooth surface of the bluish gray rock. "How many stones are there?"
"Eight, sir."
"The color reminds me of the great stone circle I once saw down in the west country of England," Henry whispered. "A circle built by giants, as legend would have it."
"These stones came from the same quarry, and there were no giants involved. Just mortal men."
"You seem to know a lot about it, John." Henry knew he was procrastinating, but his first touch of the stones had proved almost too much for him, had made him doubt his purpose once again.
"Like you, I was born here, sir. I learned all the ancient tales before I could speak."
"Then tell me---what must I do to call the Druids?"
A moment of silence met his challenge and he tore his gaze away from the stones and looked back at John.
"Near the bottom of the third stone is a small crevice. Kneel and pour your blood offering into the hollow."
"And then?"
"We wait."
Henry found his way to the third stone, knelt in front of it, and used his fingertips to discover the crevice and the worn hollow at its bottom. He closed his eyes and poured the contents of the pot into it, surprised when none of the liquid seeped out or ran down the surface of the rock. He wanted to pray, but hesitated to offend the old gods he was trying to reach.
Suddenly the wind began swirling and squalling around the stones. A humming sound in his head grew louder and louder until he staggered to his feet and broke off contact with the rock.
Something coalesced out of the wind in front of him. Henry couldn't move as the thing took shape and became a bearded man dressed in flowing white robes and holding a long staff covered in ivy in one hand. His form was as indistinct as a flickering candle flame, but his voice was commanding.
"Greetings, Henry Tudor, Duke of Richmond."
Henry bowed his head and tried to answer through the stark terror that closed his throat and threatened his ability to breathe. He clenched his fingers around the rosary beads concealed in his palm. How strong was the Christian god against the ancients? If he prayed now, who would win? He was no longer sure.
"I need your help."
Inwardly, he winced at his own abrupt words. But there was no time for subtlety or false praise. Already faint streaks of light were visible in the night sky. He had no illusions as to the precarious nature of his cause. He needed to get back to his army before they deserted him.
"What do you want, Henry Tudor?"
Henry forced himself to meet the specter's glowing eyes. "I want the crown of England and Wales."
"And what are you prepared to offer the Druids in return for our help?"
"What do you want?"
"Your solemn vow that you will aid us in our fight to wipe out the Vampire race."
Henry frowned. "I do not understand." He'd anticipated being asked for many things---money, power, even his soul---but not this. "What is a Vampire?"
"A fair question, mortal." The Druid inclined his head. "They are an abomination, a race of parasites that prey upon humanity. Many centuries ago, some of our Druid brethren forsook the traditional blood sacrifice of humans when they discovered that drinking the blood of living humans gave them a different form of religious ecstasy. They gained new powers and became immortal."
As he tried to imagine such monsters, Henry struggled to breathe. "I still don't understand . . ."
"These Vampires have grown in number and live among humans everywhere. Our seers have knowledge that they will attempt to overthrow the monarchy, set up one of their own as king, and enslave the human population."
"You wish me to stop them?"
"We wish to join with you to defeat the Vampire threat. Our numbers have dwindled, and we are no longer strong enough to fight them here in the mortal world."
"If they threaten my realm, I'll deal with them myself."
The Druid's eyes glowed red. "You will fail. They will either kill you or steal your immortal soul and make you rule for them. However, if you accept our bargain, we will send to your court a family of Vampire slayers to protect you."
Henry stared at the apparition, his mouth dry, his heart racing. "This seems a small thing for such a huge boon."
"It is not small, Henry Tudor. According to our prophets, having the king's ear may save our race from extinction. In return for protection against the Vampires, you and your heirs must shield this family, keep their secrets---and heed them always when they warn you of danger."
Henry shook his head to clear it. Could he really accept that such creatures existed?
"They exist, mortal. Do you accept the bargain?"
Henry flinched. Had the Druid read his very thoughts? He tried to weigh the options even though he knew what his answer would be. If he was fortunate, the Druids might never need his assistance against those monsters. But news of his invasion had surely reached the ears of King Richard by now. Without the support of the Druids, his small army faced certain defeat, and he would die a traitor's death. "I agree."
"Then kneel beside your servant, Sir John Llewellyn, and accept your fate."
Henry knelt shoulder to shoulder with John and closed his eyes as the Druid began to glow and shimmer. Suddenly a jolt shot through him and he gasped as he witnessed his victory, saw King Richard abandoned, his broken, bloody corpse dragged through the streets and vilified. Then a blast of heat seared his left wrist and he cried out.
When he opened his eyes, the shimmering form had disappeared. Cursing, he slapped at the smoldering sleeve of his leather coat and stared at the three parallel lines now etched in his skin.
Slowly, John rolled back his sleeve and displayed the same sign to his astonished lord. "It's called the symbol of Awen. It represents the rays of the sun and the balance between male and female. It marks those of us bound to destroy the Vampires."
Henry got to his feet and pushed down his sleeve. His hands were still shaking, but John seemed unperturbed by what they had seen, and Henry had always trusted his Welsh servant. It was lighter now, and he could clearly see the row of eight stones, feel the subtle pulse of their energy around him. If he believed he had just bargained with an ancient Druid, surely he should believe in the Vampire threat too?
He glanced at John as they walked back up the slight incline to where their tethered horses awaited them by the church. "It is you who will stay with me, then, and fight these Vampires?"
"Aye, sir."
Henry watched John's face as he tightened his horse's girth and untangled his reins. "You truly believe they exist?"
"I know they exist."
"You've seen them?"
"Seen them and killed them, sir."
John's matter-of--fact tone made Henry blink. "Since you have served me?"
"Of course, sir. The Vampires have their prophets too. They are well aware of your existence, and your place in history. So far I've managed to stop them. When you are king, I expect my job will be a lot harder."
"When I am king . . ." Henry mounted his horse and kicked the beast into a canter. He couldn't quite believe what he'd done, but he would do his best to honor both his true religion and his promise to the ancients. A surge of hope shuddered through him.
He would be king.
Richmond Palace, the Court of King Henry VIII, 1529
"Lady Rosalind? I'll take you to the queen."
Rosalind Llewellyn stood up, shook out her skirts, and followed Sir Richard out of the oppressively crowded anteroom into the wide hallway beyond. She hoped she didn't look as nervous as she felt. At court, presenting the right appearance was essential, and with the kind of enemies she had, any sign of nerves could prove disastrous.
Despite Rosalind's familiarity with the palace, it seemed at least a mile before they reached the queen's apartments. Strains of a lute and the hum of conversation died as she entered the largest of the rooms. Queen Katherine sat by the window surrounded by her ladies. Her embroidery lay on her lap as she compared shades of blue silk thread held up to the light by one of her waiting women.
"Your Majesty."
The queen smiled. "Lady Rosalind. It is a pleasure to see you again."
Rosalind sank into a deep curtsy. "You remember me, Your Majesty?"
"How could I forget? You had the most charming singing voice I have ever heard and the sweetness of disposition to go with it."
"Sweet as a country bumpkin or a freshly picked turnip."
The queen looked up sharply at the whispered interjection, and Rosalind felt herself blushing. One of the dark-haired Spanish women clustered around the queen barely bothered to conceal her laughter behind her fingers.
"Hardly a country bumpkin, Lady Celia. Rosalind was born at court and lived here for the first fourteen years of her life. She only returned home to nurse her mother through her final illness." The queen smiled gently. "Isn't that so, my dear?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. I---"
Rosalind stiffened and slowly inhaled. She could sense the presence of the undead in the room, the scent of stolen blood, the peculiar dry aroma left by an animated corpse. She studied Queen Katherine closely to make sure that the scent of Vampire was not coming from her. It never hurt to be cautious, and she hadn't been close to the queen for several years.
She forced her attention back to the queen and smiled. "In truth I could probably find my way around these halls blindfolded."
"That skill might be useful if the king decides to hold one of his wild masques." The queen nodded at Sir Richard. "Please ask the king if he can see Lady Rosalind today and give his formal approval of her appointment to my household. I don't think he'll object," she said to Rosalind. "Your family has always served us well. Lady Clarence will find you a bed for tonight, but until then, reintroduce yourself to my ladies and take your ease."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Rosalind had always loved Queen Katherine and had no intention of deserting her now, even if---especially if---the rumors were true and she had lost favor with the king because she had failed to produce a male child. She'd always been a most gracious and kind friend to Rosalind.
"Oh my goodness, Rosalind, it is so good to see you again!"
Rosalind turned and found herself in a warm embrace. She enthusiastically reciprocated. "Margaret, how are you?"
"I am well." Margaret Sinclair tilted her head to one side and studied Rosalind critically. "You have grown into a beauty."
"Hardly." Rosalind shrugged. "I've just grown."
She'd known Margaret since they were five years old, when her friend had been made a ward of the king's court to protect her considerable inheritance. They had been inseparable until Rosalind's abrupt departure five years previously.
"And how is married life?" Rosalind asked. Margaret was glowing, her blond hair concealed beneath a French hood while her ample bosom was displayed above her silver and blue bodice.
Margaret's smile widened. "I am very happy. Robert is an excellent husband." She blushed. "We are expecting a child in the summer."
Rosalind took Margaret's hands and squeezed them hard. "That is wonderful news. I am truly happy for you."
Margaret led her away from the queen and toward the quietest corner of the room. "You aren't married yet, then? Is that why your grandfather sent you back to court, to find a husband?"
"Perhaps. But you know how difficult I am to please."
Rosalind tried to keep smiling. At almost twenty, she was already considered far too old to be unwed. It didn't bother her; she had important secrets to conceal, a monarchy to protect, and many dangers to face. Somehow she suspected a conventional husband would not approve of any of that.
Margaret gave her an encouraging pat. "I'm sure you'll find someone. Several of the gentlemen present looked very pleased to see you when you arrived."
"Only because I am an untried delicacy."
"You are so distrustful, Rosalind. Show a man a pleasant face and a willing disposition and you will find your love match in no time."
"But I am not willing," Rosalind grumbled, and Margaret laughed. It occurred to Rosalind that if she wanted to conceal the real reason for her attendance at court, she would at least have to entertain the idea of encouraging a few suitors.
There was a disturbance around the queen and Margaret looked up. "I have to go and attend Her Majesty. She will no doubt be taking a stroll in the gardens. Would you like to come or will you rest from your journey?"
"If the queen permits, I think I'll remain here and accustom myself to her apartments again."
"That is an excellent idea. I'll ask the queen."
A few moments later, the queen's court streamed out into the pale sunlight chattering and laughing, leaving Rosalind alone in the pleasant receiving room. She picked up the altar cloth the queen had been embroidering, folded it carefully, and set it back on the stool along with the tangle of silks.
To her relief, the faint scent of Vampire had disappeared with the exodus of the queen's court. She had no idea yet whether the threat came from a male or a female. To her delicate and well-trained nose, there was a slight difference in the odor. Females smelled more like plants, males like animals. Unfortunately, experienced Vampires could conceal their scent among the overperfumed and underwashed bodies of the court. It would take her some time to sift through the courtiers and discover exactly who was threatening the king and queen. She could only hope she found the culprit before any damage was done.
With a sigh, Rosalind wandered through the large suite of rooms, but there was no further evidence of Vampire occupation. She paused in the queen's bedchamber and closed her eyes. How close had this Vampire gotten to the queen? If she was a trusted member of the household, she might have been the last thing the queen saw at night before she slept. The last thing the queen ever saw . . .
"What are you doing in here?"
Rosalind blinked and swung around to see a tall young man dressed entirely in black leaning against the door. His crow-black hair matched his tightly trimmed beard and he had the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen.
"You startled me, sir." Rosalind advanced toward him, but he didn't move away from the door.
"You shouldn't be in here."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "And you should?"
He blinked as if taken aback by her boldness and his amiable expression disappeared. She guessed he was too used to dealing with the simpering maidens of the court to tolerate a direct challenge from a woman.
"In fact, yes. I'm a member of the queen's household and I'm sworn to protect her." He studied her from the tip of her French hood down to her feet. "You, however, are a stranger."
"To you, perhaps, but not to the court or the queen." She marched right up to him. "Excuse me, sir."
His hand shot out and he gently grasped her elbow. "Not before I know your name and your reason for being here."
Rosalind gave an exaggerated sigh. "Now you are being ridiculous. If you let go of me, perhaps I won't embarrass you in front of the queen by insisting on an apology."
Up close, she saw his skin was olive and that within his fine eyes lurked an intriguing strength of purpose that matched her own. He smelled of exotic spices and leather, not Vampire, for which she was profoundly grateful. Tangling with a Vampire without her weapons---and in the queen's bedchamber in broad daylight---was hardly the way to begin her mission.
"Sir, the queen is in the gardens. If you insist on being difficult, why don't we go and find her? Then you can make your apology and be done with it."
"That's an excellent idea."
Rosalind met his gaze, her own unflinching. "Then let go of me."
"Not until you tell me your name." He inhaled slowly and his blue eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her face. As if he couldn't help himself, he trailed his fingers along the line of her jaw, paused to feather his thumb over her lower lip. "It must be Helen, because your beauty is unsurpassed." He leaned in closer until his lips almost brushed hers.
She resisted the urge to nip his thumb, instinct telling her that inviting him into her mouth wouldn't be wise. Was he trying to intimidate her, or was he as intrigued by her as she was by him? She managed an unsteady breath. For some reason, his mere presence made it difficult for her to remember her own name, let alone why she was annoyed with him.
"Do you normally kiss any woman you find unprotected?"
His smile was an invitation to sin. "Only the pretty ones. Now tell me your name."
"Why is it so important for you to know who I am?"
"So that I can couch my apology to you in an appropriately abject manner."
She couldn't help herself. Her mouth quirked up at the corners. "I am Lady Rosalind Llewellyn."
He dropped her arm abruptly. "Llewellyn?"
"Indeed."
He started to laugh, his teeth white and even against his tanned skin. "I don't believe it."
"What on earth does that mean?"
He bowed low and stepped away from the door. "Just that I was expecting someone far more . . . exciting."
Rosalind glared at his handsome, laughing face. "I do not excite you? In truth, I am relieved to hear that, as I find you rude, ignorant, and totally beneath my interest."
His expression sobered. "Oh, you'll find me of interest, my lady. I'm Sir Christopher Ellis. I'm sure your grandfather has spoken of my family."
"I have no idea what you are talking about." Oh, but she did, and the thought was utterly terrifying. She fisted her hands within the folds of her gown.
"You are lying, Lady Rosalind. Your kind has lived in fear of mine for generations."
"My kind?"
"You know what I mean, my lady." He bowed again. "But I'm not going to discuss it here."
Her cheeks heated at the implication that she was naive enough to speak openly about her family's secrets in the queen's bedchamber. "You accosted me, sir. I was merely reacquainting myself with the queen's domain, with her permission, of course."
"Of course." He stepped back and she forced herself to step past him calmly, without betraying her unease. "How old are you?"
She should have kept walking, but found herself looking back over her shoulder to get one last glimpse of his long, elegant frame lounging in the doorway. "That's none of your business."
"True, but I was anticipating a challenge, a worthy competitor, and instead I get . . . a child."
"Do you often kiss children?"
"I didn't kiss you." He slowly straightened. "Though you could sorely use it. And I think I might enjoy kissing you---if you weren't a cursed Llewellyn."
This time Rosalind kept moving. When the occasion arose, she would enjoy shoving his mocking words down his throat. How dare he suggest she needed kissing? And how dare he underestimate her fighting skills? But that was the way of all men. As the first Druid female born with the mark of Awen, she had worked twice as hard to earn the respect of her teachers and her grandfather.
She reached the palace gardens and drew in great gulps of fresh air. He might think himself superior to her and he might be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it made no difference. If it came down to a fight between her and Sir Christopher Ellis, she would win.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kate Pearce was born into a large family of girls in England, and spent much of her childhood living very happily in a dream world. Despite being told that she really needed to "get with the program," she graduated from the University College of Wales with an honors degree in history. A move to the U.S. finally allowed her to fulfill her dreams and sit down and write that novel. Along with being a voracious reader, Kate loves trail riding with her family in the regional parks of Northern California. Kate is a member of RWA and is published by NAL, Kensington Aphrodisia, Ellora's Cave, Cleis Press, and Virgin Black Lace/Cheek.
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