you think that would be wise?"
"I don't know. Perhaps it would be good for you to spend more time with people and less time locked away in this castle."
He looked skeptical. "What time is the wedding?"
"Seven, my lord, at Millbrae Chapel." Rhianna bit down on her lower lip. "Can you... I mean, you won't... ?"
He laughed softly. "I assure you, the church will not collapse if I enter, my sweet. Nor will I disintegrate into a smoldering pile of ash." Bending, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Until tomorrow night."
Chapter Sixteen
Rayven waited at the bottom of the staircase, speechless, as he watched Rhianna descend the steps, a vision in a swirl of pale pink satin and ivory lace, an angel with a cloud of golden hair and eyes the color of a mid-summer sky. The gown revealed the slender curve of her neck and a modest expanse of honey-hued skin. Pink slippers peeked from the ruffled hem of her gown.
"How pretty you are, my sweet," Rayven said. Taking her hand in his, he pressed it to his lips.
A wave of color washed into Rhianna's cheeks as she saw the admiration in his eyes.
"You look very handsome yourself, my lord," she replied, feeling suddenly shy.
Clad in tight-fitting black breeches, soft black leather boots, a white shirt, and a black broadcloth coat trimmed in black satin, he looked every inch a gentleman of quality and wealth.
The word "vampyre" whispered down the corridor of her mind. Resolutely, she pushed it away. She would not think of that now.
"Do you still think this is a good idea?" he asked as he placed a white woolen shawl around her shoulders, then reached for his cloak.
"You needn't accompany me if you'd rather not," she said.
His knuckles brushed her cheek. "I was only thinking of you, of your reputation."
"I don't care what others think, my lord," she replied, "so long as I am with you."
A bit of warmth, like the touch of sunlight, settled around his heart. "As you wish," he said, and offered her his arm.
The church, made of wood and hewn stone, was set against the hills. The light from dozens of white candles filled the room, bathing the painted faces of the wooden saints in a soft amber light.
The pews were filled with friends and family, and Rhianna smiled at her mother and sisters as she took her place among them. For a moment, she held her breath, waiting. Waiting for what? she mused. For the church to collapse? For the priest to come forward, cross in hand, and cast Rayven out of the church?
"Relax, my sweet." Rayven whispered. He took her hand in his and patted it reassuringly. "My presence will not cause the chapel to go up in flames. The priest will not renounce me as a spawn of Satan."
Rhianna felt her cheeks grow hot as he put her fears into words.
In spite of his mocking words, Rayven was not as at ease as he would have had her think. Time and again his gaze was drawn to the large wooden crucifix mounted on the wall behind the altar. He had not been inside a church in almost four hundred years. The last time he had entered a church had been soon after he had been made Vampyre. He had taken shelter inside a small chapel to escape the light of the sun. Huddled within one of the tiny confessionals, he had begged forgiveness for the blood he had spilled, for the lives he had taken.
Now, sitting beside Rhianna, he was acutely conscious of the whispers erupting behind him as the townspeople voiced their surprise at seeing him there. He rarely left the castle, except on those occasions when he went to Cotyer's.
"He never seems to change..."
"What do you suppose he does up in that castle?"
"... nerve, to bring him here..."
"... not natural, the way he lives..."
The whispers and speculation came to an abrupt halt as the village priest and the groom took their places at the altar. Moments later, Rhianna's sister walked down the aisle.
She was a pretty girl, Rayven mused, radiant on this, her day of days. She wore a modest ivory gown and veil and carried a bouquet of primroses and delicate ferns.
The groom, Creighton York, was tall and rather thin, with dark brown hair and brown eyes.
Rayven slid a glance at Rhianna as the priest began to speak. He didn't have to probe her mind to know what she was thinking, to know she