altar. The light from a dozen tall wax candles filled the edifice with a soft golden glow.
Dallon Montroy stood beside him, his expression solemn. Montroy, who preferred coats in brilliant hues of green and gold, looked almost subdued in a dark blue coat, striped cravat, and buff-colored breeches.
Tom Bevins, looking solemn and quite handsome in a dark brown suit and cravat, sat alone in the front pew on the left. Rhianna's mother sat on the right. Brenna and Bridgitte, clad in gowns of lavender and blue, sat on either side of their mother.
Rayven did not miss the furtive glances that Bevins sent in Ada's direction, or the faint flush that rose in Ada McLeod's cheeks when she caught Bevins looking her way.
The priest took his place at the altar. Moments later, Aileen walked down the aisle, followed by Lanna.
They wore matching pink gowns trimmed with dark velvet ribbons.
And then he saw Rhianna. Aileen's husband, Creighton, walked her down the aisle, but Rayven had eyes only for Rhianna.
She wore a gown of white silk and brocade. The bodice was square cut, the sleeves long and fitted. A gossamer veil covered her face. She looked like an angel, he thought, the very essence of purity and light.
He was aware of Ada McLeod's tears, of the jealousy that radiated from Montroy like waves of heat off hot desert sand. He sensed Bevins's good wishes, the misgivings of the priest.
The small chapel seemed to resonate with the sound of their combined heartbeats, their thoughts clamored inside his head, a chorus of unwanted voices.
Why are you doing this, daughter? Where did I fail?
I love you, Rhianna. I pray you will be happy.
Does she know what she's doing? Is it too late to warn her?
I'll miss you, Rhianna. Please come and see us often.
He felt Ada McLeod's motherly concern, Montroy's broken heart, the priest's anxiety, Bridgitte's sense of loss, Brenna's curiosity as she wondered what had happened to the left side of his face, Aileen's hope that her oldest sister would be happy, Lanna's certainty that all the wealth in the world would not be enough to make her live in Castle Rayven with its dark lord.
He took a deep breath, and his nostrils filled with the scent of the blood flowing in their veins.
But he had fed well this night, and the hunger slept within him.
And then Rhianna was there, at his side, and he blocked everything from his mind but the beauty of the young woman who was about to become his bride. He could hear the excited drumming of her heart as she looked up at him. Her skin was soft and warm, her eyes shining with love as she placed her hand in his.
Together, they turned to face the priest.
The ceremony was brief. He listened to the words that bound them together and thought he had never heard more beautiful words spoken in all his life.
And then it was over, and she was his. He could not stay the trembling of his hands as he lifted the veil from her face. Never, in four hundred years, had he imagined a moment like this. Time lost all meaning as he gazed down at her, imprinting her image deep in his mind and heart so he could recall the quiet beauty of her face and form when she was gone.
"You may kiss the bride," the priest repeated in a loud whisper.
Rayven nodded. And then, with a near-forgotten sense of reverence, he drew Rhianna into his arms and kissed her. I love you, sweet Rhianna. I swear to love you and care for you so long as you are mine.
Rhianna looked up at him when he ended the kiss. Had she imagined his voice in her mind?
"I love you, sweet Rhianna," he said quietly. "I swear to love you and care for you so long as you are mine."
He repeated the words with quiet intensity, the same words she had heard in her mind. Before she could ponder what it meant, her mother and sisters surrounded her.
"Congratulations, my lord," Dallon said, offering Rayven his hand. "I hope you and your bride will be happy together."
"Thank you, Montroy," Rayven replied sincerely. "I know how hard this has been for you."
"Indeed." Montroy glanced over at Rhianna. Never had she looked more beautiful, more innocent. More desirable. "Would you mind if I kissed the bride?"
"It's tradition, I believe."
With a nod, Dallon made his way toward Rhianna. "I wish you every happiness," he said, taking her hands in his.