"That was Lady Kathryn's room," Antonio remarked, and then grinned. "I suppose it still is."
He stopped at the end of the corridor in front of the only closed door. Opening it, he stepped inside and switched on the lights, revealing a large square room with leaded windows and an old-fashioned four-poster bed flanked by a pair of rosewood nightstands. The walls were a pale yellow, and a deep gold carpet covered the floor.
The comforter and curtains were white. An antique rosewood armoire stood across from the bed; there was a matching rocking chair in one corner, a small desk and matching chair in another.
"It's lovely," she murmured.
"I am pleased that you like it."
"Where do you sleep?"
"Nearby." He gestured at a closed door. "The bathroom is in there."
She opened the door, revealing a claw-footed bathtub, a marble sink, and, to her relief, a modern toilet.
"Do you think you will be comfortable here?" he asked.
"Are you kidding? It's beautiful, but… "
He looked at her, one eyebrow arched in question.
"What will I do here during the day when you're… sleeping?"
"Whatever you wish, so long as you are inside before sunset. My car is in the garage, the keys are in it. There is a small town a few miles down the road." His gaze caressed her; his hand stroked her cheek, then slid down her neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of her throat. "I must go out for a short time. Please, make my home yours."
"I'll need my bags."
The words were scarcely out of her mouth before he had vanished and reappeared, her luggage in hand. He dropped the bags on the bed. "Do you wish anything else before I go?"
"I don't think so. Well, maybe something to eat," she said when her stomach growled rather loudly.
He brushed a kiss across her cheek. "I will not be gone long."
She watched him leave the room. Needing something to do, she unpacked her bags and put her clothing away. Everything fit nicely in the armoire, including her shoes.
Going into the bathroom, she took a quick bath, then changed into her gown and robe.
She brushed out her hair, then went down the stairs and into the back parlor. She was trying to decide which DVD to watch when there was a ripple in the air. Turning, she saw Antonio walking toward her, a takeout bag in one hand and a covered Styrofoam cup in the other.
The scent of French fries filled the air, making her stomach growl again.
He placed the sack and the cup on the table beside the chair, gestured for her to sit and eat.
She felt ill at ease sitting in his chair and eating in front of him while he stood, watching her. Did he remember the taste of solid food after so many years of being a vampire? It was strange to think he had never tasted anything as common as a hamburger and fries or had a Coke. Did he miss eating? Drinking something other than blood? Dared she ask?
"Don't you ever?"— she picked up a French fry—"you know, miss eating and drinking? I don't mean grabbing a quick burger at the mall, but don't you ever miss enjoying a glass of wine with a leisurely meal?"
"We did not have time for many leisurely meals when I was growing up," he replied. "My father worked us hard from dawn till dark. As for wine, I am able to enjoy a sip or two from time to time. It reminds me of what I was," he said, his voice suddenly melancholy.
"And what I have lost."
"I'm sorry, Antonio."
"It was a long time ago, my sweet one. I do not often think of the past."
Still, she regretted making him think of it now. A look into his eyes told her he was no longer thinking of food. And suddenly, neither was she.
Heat flowed between them. He whispered her name, and she went into his arms with no memory of leaving the chair. His mouth covered hers, his kisses hot and greedy, his tongue a flame that threatened to set her whole being on fire. She clung to him in breathless anticipation as he kissed her again and again, each kiss more potent that the last. Somehow, they were lying side by side on the rug in front of the hearth. His hands slid under her gown, hot against her skin as he stroked her foot, her ankle, her calf.
Eager to touch him in return, she pulled his shirttail from his trousers and ran her hands up and down his back. His skin was cool beneath her fingertips. A distant part of her mind wondered how his skin could feel so cool when she felt as though her whole body was about to go up in flames.
She teased his lips with her tongue, felt the sudden tremor that ran through his body, thrilled at knowing she could arouse him. His arms were like steel around her, his body taut, quivering with desire.
He wanted her, there could be no doubt of that. And she wanted him.
She kissed him boldly, her tongue dueling with his, her mind and body yearning toward him, hungering for more, until she felt the prick of his fangs against her tongue.
With a wordless cry, she drew back. She opened her eyes, a quick primal fear rising from the depths of her being when she saw the hunger burning like a flame in the depths of his eyes.
In an instant, he was on his feet, his back toward her, his hands clenched at his sides.
Vicki stared at his back, one hand pressed to her throat as she willed her heart to stop pounding as she tried to figure out why she was upset. It wasn't as if she hadn't known that he was a vampire.
Silence stretched between them. She wished he would say something, anything.
Wished she could think of something to ease the tension that grew more strained with every passing moment.
"I did not mean to frighten you," he said quietly. "I am sorry."
She wanted to deny it, to tell him she hadn't been afraid, but it was a lie and he would know it.
Several minutes passed before he turned to face her. "Forgive me?"
"Of course."
When he offered her his hand, she hesitated a moment before taking it and letting him pull her to her feet.
That brief hesitation did not go unnoticed.
With a slight bow, he released her hand. "I will bid you good night," he said. "Please, stay up as long as you wish. My home is yours."
Before she could say ah, yes, or no, he was gone.
Vicki stared after him, her heart and mind in turmoil. Why had she reacted that way?
She had known Antonio was a vampire, but it hadn't kept her from being afraid. Nor had it kept her from feeling stark fear for her life and her soul.
Curling up in the chair, she stared into the fire, wondering if she might not have been safer staying in her own home.
Chapter 26
Vicki woke with a yawn. She glanced at the high ceiling, the yellow walls, the rosewood armoire, and frowned. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was, and then she recalled falling asleep in Antonio's easy chair the night before.