Chapter Eight
Something was wrong. Lord Radcliffe paced back and forth in his bedroom. It was almost four in the morning and he knew Grace was not sleeping, for he could not read her dreams. He could not sense anything from her.
When she left, he had said he would give her time, at least three days, before he came for her, so she could consider on her own all sides of what she would become. To be sure. Yes, they loved each other, but what he was asking of her was beyond the realm of love.
As soon as she left he had misgivings about releasing her. He should have kept her with him. Should never have let her out of his sight again.
When she drowned that day a hundred years ago, Phillip had not known how to bear the pain of losing her. Nor the guilt he suffered over not giving her what she so desperately wanted. But Gráinne had had plenty of time to know what she was doing.
It was Phillip who was unsure.
He had never made a vampire before and he was terrified something would go wrong and he would lose her. Oh, he knew what to do, and he had seen it done, but it was a dangerous business. And through his fear and hesitation he lost her anyway.
He was determined not to do that again.
Was Grace that tortured over what she was about to become that she could not sleep? Was she terrified? Was she alone?
Becoming a vampire was not an easy decision to make.
Of course, he had not made the decision for himself. That had been made for him.
When he was thirty years old, he had lived a comfortable life. He was raised by an aristocratic family and experienced a happy childhood. He was an economic advisor to Queen Elizabeth I and held a position at court as the Earl of Radcliffe. He had a pretty young wife, Sara, who had just given birth to their daughter. Phillip had named her Jane, after his mother, and hoped for a son for the next go-round. Yes, he was prosperous and successful and life was good for him. Aside from the death of his father when he was twenty, Phillip had not experienced any hardships and his existence had been pleasant and peaceful.
Until the night he met her.
She had stepped out of the shadows of the castle one evening and he was dumbfounded by her allure. Never had he seen anyone so exquisitely beautiful, so achingly tempting. Her silky black hair fell in waves to her waist and her lush, overripe breasts spilled over the top of her red velvet gown. Long black eyelashes lined the most gorgeous, startlingly green eyes. They mesmerized him. She spoke in a sultry whisper, luring him with her erotic words. Helplessly he took her hand and followed her up the stone steps to her chamber.
Straying from his marriage vows was something he had never had any intention of doing. He loved his wife. He loved his baby daughter. But this woman bewitched him.
This woman destroyed him.
The passionate and highly erotic night spent in her bed had been an incredible mix of pleasure and pain.
When dawn broke the following morning, she revealed the horrific creature she was and what she was going to do to him. Before Phillip could escape the evil woman, she bit his neck, slicing two razor-sharp fangs into his flesh and changing him forever.
When he awoke, shivering and sweating, she was beside him. Lady Anna Barlow instructed him on his new, terrifying existence—the ways of vampires. He could never see his wife and daughter again, for fear he might attack them, so overpowering was his thirst for human blood. Overwhelmed with pain and grief, he let his family think he had disappeared. With Anna by his side and filled with an indescribable anger and self-loathing, Phillip at first killed indiscriminately, caring only to satisfy the endless, torturous thirst within him. And that is what he did. Eventually, Anna left him and he was on his own, which he did not necessarily mind. Losing his wife and daughter had filled him with an aching sadness.
Over many decades, he learned to control his bloodlust and roamed the fetid London streets, searching only for victims who would not be readily missed and whose sad lives would be nothing but a mercy to end. He traveled the world, moving from city to city, country to country, slaking his desires and his thirst in an anonymous haze.
Until the day he met Gráinne.
His entire existence changed the day he saw her beautiful soul and fell helplessly in love. With Gráinne he felt almost human again. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. He only wanted to be with her.
That same soul, the exquisite soul that redeemed and saved him, now inhabited the body of Grace Sutton. He would do anything to make her life easier. Now that he had found her again he would never let her go. He had not sensed any danger from her home environment. Tension yes, but danger no. Her mother-in-law was a tyrant and that Grayson man was not for her. But the fact that she was not sleeping made him anxious. A great unease crept along his spine.
He had fed earlier that evening, along the London docks. It was fertile ground for the refuse of human life. He could dump the bodies in the Thames and no one would suspect a thing. Keeping a low profile was an unbroken code in the secretive and mysterious vampire world.
Slipping on his cape and hat, he made his way through the misty London night to Grace Sutton’s townhouse. He knew the way like the back of his hand, for he had stood beneath her bedroom window for many a night before Grace saw him, reading her dreams.
How he loved and cherished her. This beautiful woman who altered his whole existence . . .
Phillip moved on silent feet down the alley behind her house, until he passed through the garden gate that led into the Suttons’ yard. With his keen night vision he scanned the grounds and then observed the stately stone house. Immediately, he noted that two windows were aglow with lights. How odd for close to five in the morning. He had observed this household for some time now and he knew the servants did not wake this early. The one window he focused on in particular was Grace’s.
The light glowed from within. He saw her at the window and his body froze at the sight of her.
Something was definitely wrong.
It was still so dark outside she could not see him, or she would have signaled to him. Her beautiful face was distraught and creased with worry. Long auburn hair cascaded about her delicate shoulders. He could see she was still wearing the same green plaid dress she had on yesterday. Her hands pressed against the rain-splattered glass as if she were in pain and his body convulsed in response. Sensing danger, his eyes intuitively peered through the other window, in the room next to Grace’s.
This window in particular held his attention, for he did not recognize the large, dark-haired man with spectacles. His hulking form paced the room, walking back and forth in front of the tall window. Who was he and what was his purpose in the Sutton household?
Emitting a low snarl, Phillip clenched his fists. He began to crave blood, even though he had already fed earlier that evening. An unexplainable desire to kill the lumbering man standing in the window coursed through his body. The sheer pleasure of tearing the dark-haired human to shreds and leaving nothing for them to find afterward would be quite intoxicating.
The thought startled him, for he had not felt that unbridled urge of bloodlust in thirty years, since Grace was born and the compulsion to kill for killing’s sake had eased. The man, whoever he was, must have threatened her or had intentions to harm her in some way. It was the only explanation that made sense. And one thing Phillip had learned over the years to never doubt was his senses.
Without hesitating an instant, he quietly unlatched the kitchen door and ascended the servants’ staircase on silent feet. Moving along the upper hallway, he judged which bedroom belonged to Grace from the positioning of the windows. The soft glow of light illuminating her doorway confirmed what he already knew. Her heavenly scent was discernable by then. He reached for the handle but found it locked. Unsurprised, he removed a slender metal key from his pocket. It worked for most any door. The lock clicked and the door opened.
Grace still stood by the window but turned her head at the sound of the door. Fear was etched in her features. Her beautiful blue eyes widened in surprise upon seeing him. They stared for a moment and then she fairly flew into his arms, but he reached her first.
He grabbed her tightly to him, breathing deeply. It felt like days had passed since he had touched her, when it had been merely hours. She rested her head against his chest and he stroked her hair, weaving his fingers through the soft tresses.
“You came,” she murmured against his chest.
“Grace,” he whispered, pressing kisses to the top of her head. “Something is wrong, isn’t it? You haven’t slept all night.”
“Mary brought a doctor here to examine me, to confirm that I’m insane. They found my dream journal and are using it as proof. They want to take me to the asylum in the morning.”
“And they locked you in?”
“Yes,” a deep voice said from behind the doorway. “To keep her from running to you.” He chuckled, the slight sound incongruous from a man that large. “But it seems we erred in not anticipating that you would come to her rescue.”
The large hulking figure he had spied from the window stood in Grace’s bedroom. Phillip would have attacked him before he even finished speaking if he did not have Grace in his arms. But he did. Her entire body tensed with fear due to this man’s presence and she clung to him. Phillip knew nothing could harm her while he was there, but Grace did not know that. Yet.
“You erred on more than one account, then,” Phillip stated in a commanding voice.
The man ignored Phillip’s comment. His eyes glittered as he stared at Grace. “I gather you are the Lord Radcliffe everyone has been referring to this evening. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Neville Vickers and I can assure you with all medical authority that this woman is a danger to herself and needs proper psychiatric attention. Consider yourself fortunate that you discovered the truth of her mental instability before you rushed into a marriage with her. She is now under my personal care.”
“Like hell she is.”
Doctor Vickers took a small step back at Phillip’s words. Clearly affronted, he took a moment to reassess the situation.
Phillip grinned. The man had no idea what he was up against.
“You need to leave this house now,” Doctor Vickers declared with indignation. “And Grace stays here.”
“No. Grace is leaving with me.” Phillip moved Grace protectively behind his body, holding her hand. She squeezed tightly.
Doctor Vickers shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot let you do that.”
“If you wish to live past dawn, then I suggest you turn around and go back to your room and lock yourself in,” Phillip threatened calmly.
“How dare you come into this house and threaten me?” His eyes narrowed through the wire-framed spectacles.
“Get out of my way,” Phillip commanded.
Doctor Vickers squared his shoulders, blocking the doorway with his bulky body.
Phillip clenched and unclenched his hand. They needed to get out of the house soon. His body thrummed with the urge to rip into the one who endangered Grace’s safety. If he fought with the idiot doctor, the noise would rouse the entire house. On the other hand, he could silence the man permanently without making a sound. He hated to do that in front of Grace, but perhaps she was better off seeing him for what he truly was. A killer. A creature of the night.
A vampire.
Phillip faced her. She looked up at him with worry in her eyes. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry.” He forced her to take some steps back and released her hand. He turned his full attention to the doctor.
“I must insist you leave the premises. Without Grace,” the doctor commanded. Again he gazed at Grace as if she were a tasty morsel he couldn’t wait to devour.
This was going to be a pleasure for Phillip. In an instant, Phillip was behind the doctor and closed the door. The bulky man spun around, but it was already too late. With his back to Grace, Phillip had bared his teeth. As usual, his movements were so fleeting, so skilled, there was no chance for his victim to struggle. Centuries of honing his lethal moves had made him an efficient killer.
The doctor’s eyes widened in horror but he had no time to scream before Phillip grabbed his thick neck and sank his fangs deep within the white flesh.
The hot rush of blood slowly began to slake the thirst in his throat. Soon, too soon, the doctor’s body slackened and slumped to the carpet, completely drained of its life’s blood.
It took but a few silent moments and it was over. Doctor Neville Vickers was dead. With a shaking hand, Phillip wiped his mouth. Slowly he turned back to face the woman he loved, dreading the expression of horror in her eyes he was certain to see when he did so.