though."
"You're not mad."
He smiled. "I feed off excitement as a vampire feeds off blood," he said again, making her instantly hot and needy. The glint in his eyes sent off warning signals, but it was so much part of him that she rejoiced.
"I can't cure you," she said calmly.
"I don't want to be cured. I think you're something of a madwoman yourself."
Oh no. She was not going to talk about sex in broad daylight. "So your parents let you go."
His smile acknowledged her retreat. "Bought me a commission in the regiment of my choice.
Waved me farewell.” The smile faded. "And I more or less forgot about them.” He leaned back into his corner and stared into nothing. "It was all so exciting, so new. New friends, new places, new challenges. Then when it ceased to be new, ceased to be pleasant, it had swallowed me whole. I always assumed they'd be there, frozen like waxworks, when I was ready to return.”]]>
Maria inhaled a careful breath, thinking carefully about what to say. "Did you never return home?"
"Not in the last five years. I could have. I should have . .."
"Your family understood, I'm sure. They must have been proud of you. And later, their spirits guided you to safety."
He turned sharply at that. "Pap. Good men with adoring families died all the time." Shame flooded her for speaking such an empty platitude, but all she could think to say was another.
"They must want you to be happy."
"I am attempting to live, and live well." It was like trying to read a foreign script. "Why is it so hard, Van? Do you not want a good life?"
"Do I deserve one? For some reason you see me as something worth saving. I'm not so sure." But then he turned to look out of the window, and she knew he wanted to be left in peace.
She granted him that, for now. She felt as if she were cracking open the cage of a seething demon, here in a confined space. She remembered, an eon ago, feeling inadequate and unprepared. Back then, she'd had no idea of the true challenge. Back then, however, she hadn't cared as she cared now.
After the first change of horses, she broke the silence. "Tell me about getting a tattoo." His brows rose, but he answered. "It hurts."
"I suppose it must. Does it take a long time?"
"Ours did."
"Do you ever regret having a devil engraved on your chest?" It was meant to be a light question, but he said, "I have wondered if I was inviting a dark fate."
"That's not possible!"
"It's surprising what's possible."
"Did your friends' designs have any mysterious power?"
"Hawk was always hawkish, but he's become more so. Con ... It was strange that he chose a dragon. I've never been sure what it meant to him."
"A taste for sacrificial virgins?" she suggested.
He laughed, fully, eyes bright. "I have no idea. We've been out of touch too long.” She risked a probing question. "I gather he came home after Waterloo. Why haven't you seen him?”]]>
That killed the laughter, but he shrugged. "I came home in January, and he was hunting in the Shires. When I visited Steynings he wasn't in the area."
"You could have written, arranged a meeting."
"Perhaps I didn't want him involved in my mess." That made her heart ache, but it was hopeful that he was speaking of these things. Perhaps the physical act of moving toward home was moving his mind. Had their passionate night had any part in this?
She'd like to think so.
Over the hours they chatted about childhood, and families—but only the sunnier aspects—and about the easier parts of their adult lives. It was clear that his childhood had been happy, his family loved, and that one of his greatest problems since returning to England might have been loneliness.
At the fourth change she suggested that they stop for refreshments, but he looked around almost like a dog sniffing the air, and said, "No. Not long now." She'd been noting the mileposts to Brighton, forgetting that his home was not in the town. They were six miles away and must be close to Steynings.
He spoke to the
"You're not mad."
He smiled. "I feed off excitement as a vampire feeds off blood," he said again, making her instantly hot and needy. The glint in his eyes sent off warning signals, but it was so much part of him that she rejoiced.
"I can't cure you," she said calmly.
"I don't want to be cured. I think you're something of a madwoman yourself."
Oh no. She was not going to talk about sex in broad daylight. "So your parents let you go."
His smile acknowledged her retreat. "Bought me a commission in the regiment of my choice.
Waved me farewell.” The smile faded. "And I more or less forgot about them.” He leaned back into his corner and stared into nothing. "It was all so exciting, so new. New friends, new places, new challenges. Then when it ceased to be new, ceased to be pleasant, it had swallowed me whole. I always assumed they'd be there, frozen like waxworks, when I was ready to return.”]]>
Maria inhaled a careful breath, thinking carefully about what to say. "Did you never return home?"
"Not in the last five years. I could have. I should have . .."
"Your family understood, I'm sure. They must have been proud of you. And later, their spirits guided you to safety."
He turned sharply at that. "Pap. Good men with adoring families died all the time." Shame flooded her for speaking such an empty platitude, but all she could think to say was another.
"They must want you to be happy."
"I am attempting to live, and live well." It was like trying to read a foreign script. "Why is it so hard, Van? Do you not want a good life?"
"Do I deserve one? For some reason you see me as something worth saving. I'm not so sure." But then he turned to look out of the window, and she knew he wanted to be left in peace.
She granted him that, for now. She felt as if she were cracking open the cage of a seething demon, here in a confined space. She remembered, an eon ago, feeling inadequate and unprepared. Back then, she'd had no idea of the true challenge. Back then, however, she hadn't cared as she cared now.
After the first change of horses, she broke the silence. "Tell me about getting a tattoo." His brows rose, but he answered. "It hurts."
"I suppose it must. Does it take a long time?"
"Ours did."
"Do you ever regret having a devil engraved on your chest?" It was meant to be a light question, but he said, "I have wondered if I was inviting a dark fate."
"That's not possible!"
"It's surprising what's possible."
"Did your friends' designs have any mysterious power?"
"Hawk was always hawkish, but he's become more so. Con ... It was strange that he chose a dragon. I've never been sure what it meant to him."
"A taste for sacrificial virgins?" she suggested.
He laughed, fully, eyes bright. "I have no idea. We've been out of touch too long.” She risked a probing question. "I gather he came home after Waterloo. Why haven't you seen him?”]]>
That killed the laughter, but he shrugged. "I came home in January, and he was hunting in the Shires. When I visited Steynings he wasn't in the area."
"You could have written, arranged a meeting."
"Perhaps I didn't want him involved in my mess." That made her heart ache, but it was hopeful that he was speaking of these things. Perhaps the physical act of moving toward home was moving his mind. Had their passionate night had any part in this?
She'd like to think so.
Over the hours they chatted about childhood, and families—but only the sunnier aspects—and about the easier parts of their adult lives. It was clear that his childhood had been happy, his family loved, and that one of his greatest problems since returning to England might have been loneliness.
At the fourth change she suggested that they stop for refreshments, but he looked around almost like a dog sniffing the air, and said, "No. Not long now." She'd been noting the mileposts to Brighton, forgetting that his home was not in the town. They were six miles away and must be close to Steynings.
He spoke to the
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