was hanging over the back of a chair.
"Not exactly my style," he muttered.
"You look quite dashing."
"And you look like a princess."
Marisa stared at him, startled by the compliment. "Thank you." She glanced at the food on the table. "If I didn't know better, I'd think we had a fairy godmother."
Ramsey grimaced. "Grigori hardly qualifies for that position. Here," Edward said, handing her a cup of coffee.
"Thanks." She took a drink, feeling the warmth steal through her. She jerked her chin toward the pan on the stove. "You want me to do that?"
"No, sit down and take it easy. I'm almost done."
Marisa glanced out the window, trying to judge the time. It felt early. Sitting down at the table, she sipped her coffee.
"I hope you're hungry," Edward said.
Marisa stared at the plate he put in front of her. It was piled high with scrambled eggs, sausage, and sweet rolls. Edward sat down across from her, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands.
"Aren't you eating?" Marisa asked.
"No." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I made enough for the two of us, but I don't have much of an appetite."
"Did you... did you do it?"
"Not yet. I don't think it's something I want to do on a full stomach."
"I don't envy you."
He shrugged. "I've done it before. This is just the first time it's been a woman."
Marisa glanced out the window. The sky was blue. She could hear birds singing. "It's still so hard to believe," she murmured.
Edward nodded. It was difficult to accept. Even now, after hunting the creatures for almost thirty years, it seemed unreal. He had seen things no one should see, done things no human being should have to do. He stared down at his hands, wondering that they weren't stained crimson with the blood he had shed. He thought of Antoinette, of the life that had been stolen from her, the torment she must have suffered while being enslaved to Alexi. It was so unfair, and yet no one had ever said life was fair.
"Edward? Do you want me to go with you?"
"No." He drained his cup, then stood up. "Well..."
She looked up at him, wishing she knew what to say. Good luck seemed too flippant. "Be careful."
"Always." He put on his coat and stood there a moment more, looking unsure. Then he bent down and kissed her. It was a remarkably gentle kiss, filled with tenderness and uncertainty.
Marisa blinked up at him when he drew away, wondering if she looked as surprised as she felt.
Edward looked embarrassed. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"It's all right."
"Marisa, I - " He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "I guess I'd better be going."
"Hurry back," Marisa said. She stared after him as he left the room, her thoughts chaotic. She pressed her fingertips to her lips. Edward Ramsey had kissed her. She shook her head in amazement, wondering what ever had possessed him to do such a thing.
Ramsey called himself ten kinds of a fool as he gathered up his supplies and left the house. She probably thought him an old fool, and she was right. He was forty-two years old and he had never been in love. Never had time for love. He'd been hunting vampires since he was a teenager, traveling the world over, going wherever he was needed. He had seen most of the world, but he was abysmally ignorant when it came to women.
Ramsey couldn't help grinning when he saw the horse tethered to a bush outside the front door. Grigori was quite the fairy godmother after all, he mused. First he'd provided breakfast, now a ride.
Taking up the reins, he hauled himself into the saddle. He dropped the bag containing the stake, mallet, and cleaver over the saddle horn, and turned the horse south, toward the graveyard. Two miles, Grigori had said.
It was surprisingly pleasant, riding across the countryside in the early morning light. The horse seemed a tractable beast, plodding .along at a fairly good clip. He had gone about a quarter of a mile when he passed a farmer walking along the road. The man waved at him, and Edward waved back. Farther on, he passed a woman drawing water from a well. She looked up at him and smiled. He saw a small herd of sheep, another of goats.
The church loomed in the distance, the tall wooden cross on the roof rising like a prayer to the heavens.
Edward rode to the rear of the small whitewashed chapel.