He whispered love words to her in a language she didn’t understand, but there was no mistaking their meaning, or the desire behind them.
She moaned when his tongue slid along the side of her neck, closed her eyes when she felt his fangs lightly scrape her skin.
“Elena?”
She heard the question in his voice, the need, and had no thought to refuse him. Murmuring, “Yes,” she clung to him, caught up in a sensual whirlwind that carried her away to a place where she had never been, a mystical place where there were no doubts, no fears for the future, only the incredible pleasure of his bite and the magic of two souls blending, bonding, to become one.
Chapter 24
Katiya lay wrapped in Andrei’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Since their arrival at the castle, they had not left this room except to hunt. She would have been happy to stay there the rest of her life, to spend her days sleeping at Andrei’s side, and her nights in his arms.
Yet always, in the back of her mind, was the fear that her happiness would be short-lived. With the passing of each day, she worried that Rodin and her father would arrive at the castle and drag them all back to the Fortress. If that happened, Andrei’s life would be forfeited. Perhaps hers and Drake’s, as well.
She trailed her fingertips over Andrei’s chest, felt his lips move in her hair.
“Do you think they will come after us?” she whispered.
“Is that what you are worrying about?”
“I cannot help it. I know we agreed not to let it ruin our time together, but . . .” She blinked back her tears. “I am so afraid of what will happen if they find out we have deceived them.” She could lie to her father. She could lie to Rodin. But Rodin had only to read Elena’s mind to ferret out the truth.
Andrei stroked her hair. He was a realist. Whether he liked it or not he knew that, before long, Drake and Katiya would have to return to the Fortress to continue their charade as a happily married couple. Of course, there was always the possibility that Rodin would send someone to check up on them before that or, worse yet, decide to come for a visit himself. The most they could hope for was another few months together. Katiya would have to return to the Fortress to give birth. As Drake’s wife, it would be expected.
Andrei placed his hand over Katiya’s womb. His child rested there. Whatever happened in the future, nothing could change that. If the truth came to light, retribution would surely follow. Rodin could choose to punish Andrei or destroy him. He might torture Drake for his deception, but Katiya would be exempt from any punishment, at least until their child was grown.
Beside him, Katiya wept. There had to be a way for them to stay together, Andrei thought desperately, a place where no one would find them, where they could raise their child in peace. Where they could live together in love. He shook his head. It was only a pipe dream, he thought ruefully.
“Katiya, beloved,” he murmured, wiping away her tears. “Please do not cry. Even if the worst happens, I will never regret the time we have spent together.”
Chapter 25
Tavian Dinescu’s trial was the talk of the town. He had been charged with murder, attempted murder, and attempted rape.
People who knew him were shocked to discover he had killed his own daughter, as well as the banker’s oldest son. Of course, there were those who said they had known all along that there was something wrong with Tavian, that they had never believed his story about Jenica running off with Emil.
Stories came out about his past. A woman remembered catching eight-year-old Tavian cutting the head off a dead rat. A man recalled a time when Tavian had been a few years older and set a kitten’s tail on fire. An old school chum recalled Tavian’s fascination with torturing small animals and how he had once held a puppy underwater to see how long it would take the animal to drown.
During the course of the trial, Elena was called upon to testify. Sitting in the witness stand, her hands folded tightly in her lap, she refused to look at her uncle as she related her testimony. Yes, her uncle had often made improper advances toward her. Yes, it had frightened her and she had run away from home. Yes, he had come to the castle two weeks ago.
“And what did he say at that time?” the prosecuting attorney asked.
“He said ‘I will have you.’ I told him I’d rather die, and . . .” She swallowed hard, her cheeks growing hot. “He ripped my T-shirt down the front.”
“This T-shirt?” The prosecuting attorney held it up and offered it as exhibit A.
“Yes.” She bit down on her lower lip. “He told me he was going to . . . to have me then and there, and then he said, ‘I’ll take you to see Jenica.’”
“And what happened next?”
“My cat attacked him, and he ran out of the castle.” She glanced at her uncle for the first time. He looked prosperous in a new, dark blue suit. Both cheeks were bandaged where Smoke had scratched him.
In light of Dinescu’s confession, combined with the DNA evidence found on all three bodies, the defense had little to build its case on.
The jury deliberated only a short time. When they returned, they declared that they found Tavian Dinescu to be criminally insane and recommended that he be sent to Borsa Castle. Borsa had once been the summer home of the Banffy family. At the end of World War II, the Communists had thrown the family out. It was now an asylum for the insane and, some said, for people no one else wanted.
In spite of all he had done, Elena was overcome with pity for her uncle. She had heard stories of Borsa, which was rumored to be the most monstrous mental institution in all Romania. He would have no one to visit him, no one to offer the attendants food and gifts in exchange for better care.
She blew out a sigh. There was nothing more she could do for him. Whatever happened to her uncle now was his own fault. He had brought it all on himself.
A week after the trial ended, her uncle’s lawyer knocked on the castle door. “Good afternoon, Miss Knightsbridge.”
“Mr. Balescu. What brings you here?”
“May I come in?”
“Of course.” She took a step backward, and almost tripped over the cat. “Smoke, get out of the way,” she murmured, and grinned when he licked her ankle. “This way, Mr. Balescu,” she said. “Please, sit down.”
She sat on one of the sofas in front of the hearth, the cat at her side. The lawyer took a seat on the sofa across from her. He was a middle-aged man, impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit, with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and a wispy mustache.