He wanted to turn away, to leave her before it was too late, but the yearning in her eyes held him spellbound. No woman had ever looked at him with such longing, such tender regard.
Rhianna stared at him, her longing turning to confusion. "Is there... ?" She felt a rush of embarrassment flood her cheeks. "Are you... ?" The fire in her cheeks burned hotter. "I mean..." She took a deep breath and said it all in a rush. "Are you unable to perform, my lord?"
The thought amused him even as it pricked his vanity. Was that what she thought, that he was some impotent fop? If only he were, he thought wryly. How much easier it would be for them both.
A breeze stirred the land, ruffling the leaves on the rosebushes. Rhianna shivered, not from the cold, but from the knowledge that she had offered herself to him, heart and soul, and he didn't want her.
She felt suddenly cold inside and out, naked to the very depths of her soul. She had not felt this vulnerable, this exposed, since that awful night in Cotyer's Tavern when she stood next to her father in front of a crowd of leering men.
Certain she would never be able to face Rayven again, she bent down to retrieve her shawl.
And felt his hands on her shoulders; strong, capable hands drawing her up, pulling her close.
"Rhianna, if I could have one wish, it would be to make love to you here and now. But I dare not." He saw the question in her eyes, the doubts. "It has nothing to do with you. Believe me when I say I want you as I've wanted no other woman."
Tears glistened in her eyes, clinging to her lashes like morning dew. Tears of shame and humiliation. "I don't believe you."
"Rhianna, please..."
She shook her head. "I was wrong to come here, wrong to think I could make you care." She stepped away from him, feeling suddenly bereft as his fingers slid from her shoulders. "I'll leave here tomorrow, and you need never see me again."
It was what he wanted, what he knew was best for her, yet her words pierced the deepest regions of his worthless soul. And in that instant, he knew that he could not face a future without her. Four hundred years of solitude were enough.
"Rhianna! Don't go." The words were dragged from the depths of his heart.
"My lord?" A tiny flame of hope ignited in Rhianna's breast, warming her inside and out.
"Stay with me, Rhianna. Give me the year I promised you."
"It will be my pleasure, my lord." In a single fluid movement, he bent over, picked up her shawl, and draped it around her shoulders. "You are the most beautiful, desirable woman I have ever known." His hands tightened on her shoulders. "We will have our year, sweet Rhianna. A year to get acquainted."
He was standing behind her. Slowly, he lowered his head, his lips grazing the side of her neck. "Go back to the house," he said, his breath fanning the hair at her nape. "I'll see you at dinner tomorrow night." After I've fed the beast within.
"As you wish, my lord."
He watched her walk away and feared, in that instant, that he would never be able to let her go.
She had been afraid she wouldn't be able to face him again, but she felt surprisingly calm when he joined her at the dinner table the following evening.
She had dressed with care in a dress of soft blue wool. The color matched her eyes. The dress, while modest in cut and design, still managed to outline her every curve. She wore her hair in loose waves down her back because he liked it that way.
"Good evening, sweet Rhianna."
"Good evening, my lord."
He sat down across from her and picked up the glass of wine that Bevins had poured for him as soon as he entered the room.
Rayven took a sip, nodded his approval to Bevins, then sat back in his chair.
"So," he said, regarding her over the rim of his goblet, "what did you do today?"
Rhianna met his gaze, unable to shake off the feeling that he knew exactly how she had spent the day.
"I learned a new piece of music this morning," she said, "and this afternoon, I began to prepare the soil for the new rosebushes."
He nodded, one brow arching upward as he waited for her to continue.