with the strains of "Greensleeves." Making a courtly bow, he offered her his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
"I can't… I don't know how…"
"Then it shall be my pleasure to teach you," he said.
Her body seemed to pulse with new life as he drew her into the circle of his arms. Lost in the depths of his eyes, every fiber of her being aware of his nearness, she found it difficult to concentrate on the steps of the waltz.
He smiled down at her, as if he knew perfectly well the devastating effect he was having on her senses.
"Relax, Lisa. Listen to the music. Follow my lead."
Follow his lead, she thought dreamily. She would have followed him anywhere.
He sang along with the music. His voice was deep and rich, as entrancing as his gaze. He held her close, his body brushing against hers in a most scandalous manner as he whirled her around the floor.
"To make it easier for you to follow my lead," he murmured, amused by her shocked expression.
She loved waltzing with him. It was exhilarating, being held so close in his arms, being twirled around the floor. He was so light on his feet, so graceful, she felt like a clumsy child in comparison, and yet they danced together perfectly, dipping and swaying and turning as if they had waltzed together for years.
Once she gained a little confidence, she had time to notice her surroundings. Placed at intervals around the room, were a number of chairs and settees covered in a rich green and gold damask stripe, as well as several low tables made of rich dark wood. Heavy velvet drapes hung at the windows. A delicate crystal chandelier hung from a thick silver chain. For softer light, there were candles in silver wall sconces. Mirrored panels set in the walls reflected the candlelight.
She smiled when she saw her image in one of the mirrors as they twirled about the room. Her gown swirled around her ankles. Her hair gleamed in the light of the fire. Her eyes were shining with pleasure… she felt her smile wilt when she realized that he cast no reflection.
She stopped abruptly, staring at the mirror.
"What is it?" Alesandro asked with a faint smile. "Have I made you dizzy?"
"No." She pointed at the single image reflected in the glass. "I… you… you don't…"
He followed her gaze, his smile fading.
She glanced at him, at the mirror, at him again. "Why?"
"Did no one ever tell you? Vampires cast no reflection."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "Some say it is because vampires have no soul."
She stared up at him. Vampire. Sometimes she forgot what he was. She saw the pain in his eyes, and even though he made no move, she felt him withdraw into himself.
Not wanting to spoil the mood of the evening, she placed her hand on his arm and said, "Shall we finish our dance?"
One evening, sitting on the sofa in front of the hearth in the parlor, she asked him about the collection in the cabinet. "Are they things from your childhood?"
"In a way." He glanced over his shoulder. "The jade animals belonged to my mother. The books belonged to my father. My sister gave me the bird's nest. The seashell and the stone are souvenirs of home."
"And the heather?"
"It was given to me by a witch in Scotland. She said it would bring me luck." He gazed into her eyes. "I did not believe her at the time, but now…" He brushed a kiss over her lips. "Perhaps she was right, after all."
Several times during the month, Alesandro was called away from the house by those needing aid. She worried each time he was called away, knowing that he was going out to treat those who had been attacked by the other vampire, afraid that he might be attacked again, that he would be destroyed.
And late one night the constable came calling again.
Analisa followed Mrs. Thornfield to the door, listened quietly as the housekeeper informed the constable that Dr. Avallone had been called away on an emergency.
"Bit of a coincidence, don't you think? His being absent every time I arrive?"
"I wouldn't know, sir," Mrs.
"I can't… I don't know how…"
"Then it shall be my pleasure to teach you," he said.
Her body seemed to pulse with new life as he drew her into the circle of his arms. Lost in the depths of his eyes, every fiber of her being aware of his nearness, she found it difficult to concentrate on the steps of the waltz.
He smiled down at her, as if he knew perfectly well the devastating effect he was having on her senses.
"Relax, Lisa. Listen to the music. Follow my lead."
Follow his lead, she thought dreamily. She would have followed him anywhere.
He sang along with the music. His voice was deep and rich, as entrancing as his gaze. He held her close, his body brushing against hers in a most scandalous manner as he whirled her around the floor.
"To make it easier for you to follow my lead," he murmured, amused by her shocked expression.
She loved waltzing with him. It was exhilarating, being held so close in his arms, being twirled around the floor. He was so light on his feet, so graceful, she felt like a clumsy child in comparison, and yet they danced together perfectly, dipping and swaying and turning as if they had waltzed together for years.
Once she gained a little confidence, she had time to notice her surroundings. Placed at intervals around the room, were a number of chairs and settees covered in a rich green and gold damask stripe, as well as several low tables made of rich dark wood. Heavy velvet drapes hung at the windows. A delicate crystal chandelier hung from a thick silver chain. For softer light, there were candles in silver wall sconces. Mirrored panels set in the walls reflected the candlelight.
She smiled when she saw her image in one of the mirrors as they twirled about the room. Her gown swirled around her ankles. Her hair gleamed in the light of the fire. Her eyes were shining with pleasure… she felt her smile wilt when she realized that he cast no reflection.
She stopped abruptly, staring at the mirror.
"What is it?" Alesandro asked with a faint smile. "Have I made you dizzy?"
"No." She pointed at the single image reflected in the glass. "I… you… you don't…"
He followed her gaze, his smile fading.
She glanced at him, at the mirror, at him again. "Why?"
"Did no one ever tell you? Vampires cast no reflection."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "Some say it is because vampires have no soul."
She stared up at him. Vampire. Sometimes she forgot what he was. She saw the pain in his eyes, and even though he made no move, she felt him withdraw into himself.
Not wanting to spoil the mood of the evening, she placed her hand on his arm and said, "Shall we finish our dance?"
One evening, sitting on the sofa in front of the hearth in the parlor, she asked him about the collection in the cabinet. "Are they things from your childhood?"
"In a way." He glanced over his shoulder. "The jade animals belonged to my mother. The books belonged to my father. My sister gave me the bird's nest. The seashell and the stone are souvenirs of home."
"And the heather?"
"It was given to me by a witch in Scotland. She said it would bring me luck." He gazed into her eyes. "I did not believe her at the time, but now…" He brushed a kiss over her lips. "Perhaps she was right, after all."
Several times during the month, Alesandro was called away from the house by those needing aid. She worried each time he was called away, knowing that he was going out to treat those who had been attacked by the other vampire, afraid that he might be attacked again, that he would be destroyed.
And late one night the constable came calling again.
Analisa followed Mrs. Thornfield to the door, listened quietly as the housekeeper informed the constable that Dr. Avallone had been called away on an emergency.
"Bit of a coincidence, don't you think? His being absent every time I arrive?"
"I wouldn't know, sir," Mrs.
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