the material came from. The night after I was made Vampyre, my hands created it with a knowledge of their own. My blood, the very essence of my life, is woven into the fabric. And because the blood of my mother is in me, a part of her dwells within the cloak."
"And it's that part of her that soothes you, isn't it?" She smiled, as if she had just solved a mystery. "I've seen the way the cloak enfolds you when you're unhappy, or weary, as if to comfort you."
He nodded, surprised by her perception, and by her ready acceptance of what was, for the most part, completely incomprehensible.
"You have a beautiful soul, Rhianna McLeod," he said quietly. "Do you think me cruel to keep you here against your will? To make you live with a monster when you deserve so much more?"
A man like Montroy,he thought, sick with jealousy. That was what she deserved. A husband who could give her children, who could offer her a home filled with sunlight and laughter.
"Is that how you see yourself, my lord? As a monster?"
"Don't you?"
"No."
"What do you see, sweet Rhianna?"
"I'm not sure. But you're far too kind to be a monster."
"Kind?" He made a low sound of derision in his throat. "No one has ever accused me of that before."
"You have been kind to me, kind to my family. And now you've shown kindness to the town as well."
"That was your idea, not mine."
"You could have said no."
"Not to you." He cupped her cheek in his palm, the heat of her skin warming him. "Rhianna, I wish..."
He drew his hand from her face and stood up, turning away so that his back was to her.
"What do you wish?"
"Nothing. Wishes are for fools."
Rising, she went to stand behind him. He was so tall, so strong, and yet so vulnerable. Fearing she would be rebuffed, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. "Won't you tell me what you wish?"
He folded his arms over her hands and bowed his head. "I wish I could be mortal for you, Rhianna, that I could love you, that I could make love to you, as a mortal man. I wish I could stand beside you on a warm summer morning and watch the sunrise, that I could share your days as well as your nights. I would cherish you with each breath, shower you with the riches of the world. I wish I could father your children and watch them grow, that I could work beside you, and grow old at your side."
He took a deep breath, willing away the images his words had created in his mind. "I can do none of those things." He turned around to face her. "If I weren't a monster, my sweet, I would release you from your promise. I would send you away from here and bid you well. But I have ever been a selfish knave and find that I cannot let you go. Not now. Not after the joy of having you rest beside me." His dark eyes burned into hers. "Perhaps not ever."
She looked up at him, her expression serene. "Have I asked to be released from my promise?"
"You should."
"Why? You just said you would not let me go."
He traced the curve of her cheek with his forefinger. "True enough," he agreed, "and yet, I doubt I could deny you anything. Even your freedom, should you ask it of me."
"I promised you a year, my lord, and unless you send me away, I intend to honor that promise."
"Rhianna..." He had no words to express his feelings, no words to tell her how precious she was to him at that moment as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with acceptance, and trust. "What a rare creature you are," he murmured.
"You look extremely pale, my lord," she mused. "Shall I call Bevins?"
"No." He turned away from her again lest she see the hunger burning in his eyes. "Why don't you go freshen up for supper? I shall join you later."
"Will you not kiss me before I go?"
"Not now." His voice was harsh.
"Very well, my lord."
The hurt in her voice was like a slap. "Rhianna, wait." He took a deep breath; then, when he was certain the hunger was under control, he took her in his arms and kissed her. "I'll see you as soon as I can."
She noticed the change in him when he entered the library two hours later.