for the wineglass on the table. He stared at the deep red liquid for a long moment, suddenly sickened by the blood and wine concoction that had sustained him for four hundred years. With an oath, he hurled the goblet into the fireplace and stalked out of the room.
Rhianna sat back on her heels, an immense feeling of satisfaction warming her as she surveyed her handiwork. It had taken hours and hours of hard work, but the castle gardens bloomed with color.
Months ago, there had been nothing out here but barren ground and a few scraggly weeds. Now, there were flowers of all kinds and colors, lacy ferns and shrubs.
At home, she had spent long hours laboring in the vegetable patch, hoeing, weeding, nurturing the tender plants that fed the family. There had been no time or space to waste on flowers.
Rising, she pressed a hand to her back. But this... She closed her eyes, basking in the sun's warmth, in the heady fragrance that rose all around her. This had been a labor of love. She had planted vegetables, too, but only the ones she liked.
Removing the wide-brimmed hat that shaded her face, she walked along the narrow dirt path that wove in and out of the flower beds. In addition to flowers, she had planted fruit trees, thinking they would add not only beauty for the eye and shade from the sun, but a bountiful harvest.
When she reached the end of the garden, she stared at the maze that rose up near the castle's outer wall.
The hedges that formed the maze were the only thing in the garden that had not needed care. She had wandered to the edge of the maze several times, but she had never found the courage to go inside. There was something ominous about the place, though she couldn't say what. Perhaps it was her fear, however irrational, of being lost in it.
With a sigh, she sank down on one of the marble benches that were scattered through the garden. It had been three months since the night Lord Rayven had joined her in the dining room. Why had he sought her out that night? Why hadn't he sought her company again?
She had been at the castle for almost six months now. Anything she desired was hers for the asking. She had all the clothes she would ever need. She had become an avid reader and she had discovered she had a talent for playing the pianoforte, and for painting. In truth, she had everything she had ever wanted - everything except someone to share it with.
When she was bored, Bevins drove her to the marketplace in the next town for a day of shopping and then, like a silent shadow, he followed her wherever she went. It would have been fun, buying whatever caught her eye, taking lunch in one of the inns, if it hadn't been for the boldly curious stares people sent in her direction. Save for the shopkeepers, no one spoke to her, though all who saw her nodded politely. It amazed her that gossip from her small village had spread to the next town, that everyone she met seemed to know she was living in Castle Rayven. Sometimes she heard Rayven's name mentioned, always in hushed whispers, always followed by the sign to ward off evil. It gave her a sad, lonely feeling.
Once, she had asked Bevins if she might invite her mother and sisters to the castle. He had replied, "No, miss, you may not," in such a way that she had never asked again.
Occasionally, she wondered if he might permit her to go visit her family, but she never found the nerve to ask.
Sometimes, she felt like a princess in a fairy tale, imprisoned in a magic castle but cut off from the rest of the world.
And always, lurking in the back of her mind like a dark shadow, was Rayven. She never saw him, never heard his voice, save in her dreams. She wondered what he did all day, if he was even in the castle. For all she knew, he could have left months ago. Rayven. He was like a riddle with no answer, a puzzle that could not be solved. Why had he brought her here?
It was a thought that stayed foremost in her mind the rest of the day, and followed her to bed that night.
He stood in one of the rooms in the east tower, staring out the window, his gaze