awoke. He felt her presence with his first conscious breath. Why hadn't she left?
Rising, Rayven bathed and donned fresh clothing. Leaving the tower, he hurried downstairs, only dimly aware that it was still raining.
Rhianna was sitting in the library, her feet curled underneath her. For a moment, he stood in the doorway, watching her. She wore a gown of pale green velvet tied with a dark green sash. Her slippers were of the same dark green. Her hair fell over her shoulders, shimmering like fine gold silk in the firelight.
A slender gold chain circled her throat. The rain falling against the windows made a pleasant counterpoint to the crackling flames.
As though suddenly aware of his presence, she looked up, her cheeks turning rosy when she saw him watching her.
"Good evening, my lord." She put the book she had been reading aside, pleased that her hand didn't tremble, that her voice was calm.
"Good evening, sweet Rhianna." He entered the room on silent feet and sat down in the chair opposite hers. His cloak settled lovingly around him, enfolding him like the wings of a great black bird.
"I meant to leave," Rhianna said, his nearness making her suddenly nervous, "but Bevins said I should wait out the storm."
Rayven nodded. His whole being seemed to be reaching for her, yearning for her. Hungering for her. Did he really want her to go? Why not let her stay? She could live comfortably here. His wealth could buy her whatever she desired. He would make sure she lacked for nothing...
He clenched his jaw. He could never give her the things every young woman wanted. He could provide for her and protect her, but he could never give her children. He could stay by her side, but he could never share her whole life. He could care for her when age and disease took their toll, but he would not grow old with her. And in the end, he would stand by her grave, looking exactly as he did now.
"You can send me away if you want," Rhianna said, unnerved by his silence, by the fierce glitter in the depths of his hell-black eyes. "You can send me away, or you can leave, but I'll always be here when you come back."
"You're not afraid of me, are you?" he asked, his voice touched with wonder.
"Afraid? Of you?" She shook her head. Sometimes he made her feel apprehensive, but she had never been truly afraid. She knew, in the deepest part of her being, that he would never intentionally harm her.
"You should be." He spoke the words calmly, as if commenting on the inclement weather.
"Do you want me to be afraid?"
"It would be better if you were."
"Better for whom? You speak in riddles, my lord."
"Pray you never understand them."
He turned the full force of his gaze upon her, and in spite of her brave words to the contrary, she felt a sudden chill of unease. Clasping her hands in her lap, she took a deep breath. "Shall I leave?"
"You are welcome to stay," he said, one hand idly stroking the rich velvet of his cloak, "until the storm ends." He would offer her a bribe, he thought, offer to grant her anything she desired, anything that would take her away from this place. From his presence.
He regarded her through narrowed eyes. "I am going to grant you a boon, Rhianna. One wish. Ask for whatsoever your heart desires above all else, and it shall be yours."
"You can do such a thing?"
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You would be surprised at what I can do."
Rhianna frowned, certain she was imagining things, yet she would have sworn his cloak wrapped itself more tightly around his broad shoulders, that it soothed him in some way.
"Anything?" she asked.
"Only name your heart's desire."
"And you will grant it to me? You promise?"
Rayven nodded. "What will it be?" he asked curiously. "Riches? A fine house staffed with servants? A return to Paris? A large dowry for yourself and your sisters? Only name it, and it's yours."
"I wish to stay here with you," she replied quietly, "for as long as it pleases me to do so. I wish to live in your house and spend time with you each night."
Rayven stared at her. Of all the things he had imagined she might ask for, the most obvious had never occurred to him. "Ask for something else."
"No. You gave me your word." Her gaze met his. "Is it your intention to