Blood Price - By Tanya Huff Page 0,38

attention Henry had been hoping to avoid.

"You should be more careful of excitement, good sir knight," chided the Archbishop of York as those who had hurried to the rescue moved back to their places.

"Not me, your Grace," Sir Thomas told the prelate piously, "it's our good duke who finds his codpiece tied too tightly."

As he felt his face redden, Henry cursed the Tudor coloring that showed every blush as though he were a maiden and not a man full sixteen summers old.

Later, when the musicians began to play up in the old minstrel's gallery, Henry walked among his guests, trying, he thought successfully, to hide his ultimate goal. They'd be watching him now and one or two, he knew, reported back to his father.

As he at last crossed the hall toward her, she gathered her black and silver skirts in one hand and headed for the open doors and the castle courtyard. Henry followed. She was waiting for him, as he knew she would be, on the second of the broad steps; far enough away from the door to be in darkness, close enough for him to find her.

"It, uh, it is hot in the hall, isn't it?"

She turned toward him, her face and bosom glimmering pale white. "It is August."

"Yes, uh, it is." They weren't, in fact, the only couple to seek a respite from the stifling, smoky hall but the others discreetly moved away when they saw the duke appear. "You, uh, aren't afraid of night chills?"

"No. I love the night."

Her voice reminded him of the sea, and he suspected it could sweep him away as easily. Inside, under torchlight, he had thought her not much older than he, but outside, under starlight, she seemed ageless. He wet lips gone suddenly dry and searched for something more to say.

"You weren't at the hunt today."

"No."

"You don't hunt, then?"

In spite of the darkness, her eyes caught and held his. "Oh, but I do."

Henry swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably-his codpiece was now, indeed, too tight. If three years at the French Court had taught him nothing else, he had learned to recognize an invitation from a beautiful woman. Hoping his palm had not gone damp, he held out a hand.

"Have you a name?" he asked as she laid cool fingers across his.

"Christina."

"Vampire?" Henry stared at Christina in astonishment. "I was making a joke."

"Were you?" She turned from the window, arms crossed under her breasts. "It is what Norfolk calls me."

"Norfolk is a jealous fool." Henry suspected his father had sent the Duke of Norfolk to keep an eye on him, to discover why he continued at Sheriffhuton, a residence he made no pretense of liking, into September. He also suspected that the only reason he hadn't been ordered back to Court was because his father secretly approved of his dalliance with an older, and very beautiful, widow. He wasn't fool enough to think his father didn't know.

"Is he? Perhaps." Ebony brows drew down into a frown. "Have you never wondered, Henry, why you only see me at night?"

"As long as I get to see you... "

"Have you never wondered why you have never seen me eat or drink?"

"You've been to banquets," Henry protested, confused. He had only been making a joke.

"But you have never seen me eat or drink," Christina insisted. "And, this very night, you yourself commented on my strength."

"Why are you telling me this?" His life had come to revolve around the hours they spent in his great canopied bed. She was perfect. He wouldn't see her otherwise.

"Norfolk has named me vampire." Her eyes caught his and held them although he tried to break away. "The next step will be to prove it. He will say to you, if I am not as he names me, then surely I will come to you by day." She paused and her voice grew cold. "And you, wondering, will order it. And either I will flee and never see you again, or I will die."

"I, I would never order you... "

"You would, if you did not believe me vampire. This is why I tell you."

Henry's mouth opened and closed in stunned silence, and when he finally spoke his voice came out a shrill caricature of his normal tone. "But I've seen you receive the sacrament."

"I'm as good a Catholic as you are, Henry. Better perhaps, as you have more to lose while the king's favor wanes toward the Mass." She smiled, a little sadly. "I am not a creature of the devil.