Rayven stopped. Turning her to face him, he took both her hands in his. "You planted the roses in the garden for your own pleasure," he explained, his thumbs making lazy circles over the backs of her hands.
"But you planted the roses in the maze for me."
The look in his eyes made her heart beat fast. His touch sent shivers up her arms. The sound of his voice moved over her and through her. His voice. She had never heard another like it, deep and rich, filled with arrogance and command.
"Why do you live so alone?" she asked. "Why do you let no one get close?"
"I am a solitary creature by nature," he replied.
"You have an odd way of speaking of yourself," she said, "as if you were different from everyone else."
"Do you think I am not?"
And in that moment, she knew that he was different. Different from her, different from anyone else she had ever known, though she could not say why. And then she remembered an odd remark he had once made.
"Do you recall the night before I left for Paris?" she asked as they continued walking.
"I remember." It had been the worst night of his life.
"You said something that night, something I thought most peculiar."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. You said no mortal had ever crept up on you before."
He hesitated a moment before answering, and it seemed as if he withdrew into himself a little. "Did I?"
Rhianna nodded. "Don't you think that's odd?"
"Explain yourself," Rayven said, though he knew exactly what she meant.
"You used the word mortal as if it applied to me, but not to you."
"Did I?"
"You know you did!"
To distract her, he drew her into his arms. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known," he said, his voice husky. "Your eyes are as blue as a midsummer sky. Your skin is like alabaster kissed by the sun. And your hair..." He ran his fingers through the hair at her nape. "Your hair is as soft as the finest silk."
With a sigh, she melted against him, her face turned up to his, inviting his kiss.
His lips brushed hers. "Are you in love with Montroy?"
Rhianna blinked at him. "What?"
"Are you in love with Montroy?" he demanded. His hands tightened on her shoulders, his eyes burning with a fierce anger.
"No, my lord."
"I don't want you to see him again."
"I thought you wanted me to marry and have children." She tilted her head back to better see his face.
"Isn't that what you said?"
"Not Montroy." He bit off each word, refusing to admit that he was jealous of the man, of any man. "Not Montroy," he said again, and hated the man because he could give Rhianna all the things she deserved.
"Very well, my lord, I'll not see him again so long as I am in residence here."
He wanted to shake her, to make her promise she would never see the man again, not now, not ever.
"There's just one thing," Rhianna said. "I gave him leave to call on me."
"Bevins will send him away."
She couldn't help it. She smiled, pleased at the notion that he was jealous of her affection for Montroy.
Surely it was a good sign.
Clasping her hand in his, Rayven turned and headed back toward the castle.
"I thought we were going to sit in the maze awhile," Rhianna said, quickening her steps to keep up with him.
"Not tonight," Rayven said, his voice almost a growl. Not tonight, he thought, when his black heart burned with jealousy, when the rage running through him kindled his hunger until he was almost mad with the need to hunt.
At the castle door, he drew her into his arms, his cloak enfolding them both in a cocoon of lush velvet and warm silk. She was trembling when his mouth covered hers.
"You are mine, sweet Rhianna," he murmured. His eyes burned into hers, his breath fanned her cheek like a flame. "For this year, you belong to me and no one else."
Chapter Twelve
He didn't join her at supper the following night. Rhianna picked at her food, hardly tasting the succulent roast beef Bevins had prepared.
She glanced up at the sound of footsteps, felt the hope in her heart grow cold when Bevins entered the room.
"Is the meal not to your liking, Miss Rhianna?" Bevins asked solicitously. "I can prepare something else, if you wish."
"No, thank you." She pushed her plate away. "I find I have little appetite this evening."