Crimson Night Part 11

"I do not!" she cried, stung.

"Oh, no?" Lord Baldevar raised his eyebrow again, ignoring the scowl Meghann shot him. "Tell me how much weight you've gained since you started drinking my blood, scarecrow."

"One pound," she mumbled.

"I did not hear that."

"One pound." Meghann sighed. She'd been worried about her inability to gain weight just as Lee was worried. The mortal doctor pleaded with her to eat more but Meghann simply had no appet.i.te, though she did force herself to drink large quant.i.ties of milk and eat fresh fruit. "I just haven't been that hungry."

"Of course you aren't hungry. I have no doubt the gloom you've shrouded yourself in makes food taste like straw. Well, enough of that. It's time I rescued you from your depression."

For a minute, Meghann could only splutter in fury but she finally got the words out. "You you d.a.m.ned fiend! You're the cause of my depression!"

"I am not. You're miserable because you've forgotten how to enjoy the night.

I'm going to make you live again."

"Let go of me! I enjoy the night just fine I don't need you!"

"Is that so? Then tell me what you do with your time besides weep over that thing I reluctantly shelter and mope around Doctor Winslow's house."

"Well, I uh "

"I knew it!" When Meghann grabbed at a ma.s.sive breakfront in the hallway to stop their progress, Lord Baldevar turned and gave her a level stare.

"Can I interest you in a proposition, Meghann?"

"What kind?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not the kind you seem to have in mind," he teased. "All I want from you is the rest of tonight to prove we can exist together in peace. One night in which we see if I can make you laugh or smile again. If at the end of the night you feel as you do now, I shall leave you alone."

"I don't know " Meghann hedged. How could she even contemplate making peace with Lord Baldevar after what he'd done to Jimmy? "I thought you loved your child."

"Of course I do."

"Then have you given any thought to what you'll do to our child if you refuse to accept me? Are you going to raise your child to despise his own father or if you never say a word make him miserable when he's caught in an atmosphere of cold hate between us? What does that mind science you're so fond of have to say about that?"

The question threw her. "I I hadn't thought about it."

"Of course you didn't. You were far too busy plotting for that catamite to sneak up on me and chop my head off while you're in labor." Lord Baldevar laughed at the guilty but defiant surprise on her face and chucked her under the chin. "Don't waste your time trying to defeat me. You'll never succeed."

There was no hint of boast in the quiet voice and Meghann knew he could very well be right Vampires had tried for four hundred years to destroy Lord Baldevar without success. Why should she and Charles be any different? Would it be better for her child to reach some sort of truce with him?

But then what he was, the awful things he did he'd influence the baby. And if you give him a hard time, he'll take the baby from you, a voice reminded her.

At least if you make peace, you're in the child's life . . . you can counteract his suggestions, make sure the baby grows up with a moral center.

"I'm not going back to being your consort," Meghann said flatly. "Will you take the baby away from me for spurning you?"

Lord Baldevar took her hands. "I can be a great many things to my son but I could never replace the care of a loving mother nor would I wish to. I want to raise this child with you, Meghann whether you seek my bed or not. Convince me I can trust you not to go running off and I shall give you physical custody of our son. On my honor as a knight, I promise you that."

"When were you knighted?"

Lord Baldevar rolled his eyes. "During the Armada crisis but that is not important. What say you, Meghann? Can I have one night to prove myself? After that, if you still cannot stand my company but promise to be civil for the child's sake, I'll leave you in peace."

"All you want is tonight? After that, you'll leave me alone?"

"If you want me to leave you alone, I will."

Meghann could tell by his expression he thought that was as likely as her throwing herself to the sun the next morning, and it was his arrogance that decided her. Did this vain fiend actually think he could charm her out of all her hatred and resentment in one night?

Meghann gave him a deep, mocking curtsy and held out her hand. "Lead the way Simon."

He grinned at the unspoken challenge in her eyes and kissed her outstretched hand lingeringly. "With pleasure, little one with pleasure."

CHAPTER SIX

Nothing Simon could do would change her feelings toward him, Meghann told herself firmly. Even though she'd agreed to accompany him willingly tonight, that didn't mean she had any intention of being anything more than a pa.s.sive, silent companion.

Her resolution for a grim evening wavered slightly when Simon brought his apple-red Ferrari F355 Spider convertible to the front door and Meghann gave an involuntary gasp of appreciation. Without thinking, she ran to the sleek sports car, running a reverent hand over the aluminum and steel panels.

"It's fantastic," she gushed, inspecting the trademark round rear lights and dancing horse symbol nestled between them. Normally, Meghann's taste in cars went to cla.s.sic American cars, like her own '58 Cadillac convertible. But what car enthusiast could ignore a brand-new Ferrari?

Ever the gentleman, Simon came to the pa.s.senger-side and held the door open for her, where Meghann noticed that even the doorstop was upholstered in expensive leather.

"I'd love to have a Ferrari." She sighed.

Simon gave her a quizzical glance while he got comfortable behind the three- spoke Momo steering wheel. "Meghann, you are no mortal to weep and sigh for objects beyond your means. If you like Ferraris, get one get ten if it makes you happy."

"Alcuin said I should live within the means of the mortal profession I chose."

"d.a.m.ned ninny," Simon muttered, and Meghann stifled a giggle. He raised an eyebrow at her overcomposed expression and continued. "But explain one thing to me, sweetheart. I do not know of many struggling psychologists that charge ridiculously low fees who can afford an impeccably restored fifty-eight Cadillac."

"I'm not your sweetheart and I didn't buy that car restored," Meghann retorted.

"I paid a junkie four hundred dollars for a rotted-out old wreck and then rebuilt the car."

"Do you mean to tell me you restored that car by yourself?"

"It wasn't that hard the engine was actually in pretty good shape but the bodywork took forever. I can't tell you how many nights I scoured the junkyards for parts."

"So in our time apart you've become a grease monkey?"

"Better than a dandy mechanics can rob blind because he wouldn't dream of dirtying his delicate hands," Meghann said tartly, thinking she'd already given Simon more conversation than she'd intended for the entire evening.

"Have you forgotten vampires are telepathic? No one cheats me, I a.s.sure you."

Meghann rubbed her cheek against the plush Connolly leather seat and watched Simon take the winding turns at 60 mph a fast speed, but a pale shadow of what she knew this car was capable of. "How does it ride at maximum speed?"

"I don't know." At her surprised glance, Simon explained, "I haven't had a chance to take it out on a flat, isolated stretch of road yet. Would you like to do that?"

"Do what?"

"We could go out to the desert and see how the Spider performs. Perhaps go into town and get a picnic dinner to take with us? I'll let you drive," Simon invited.

Meghann's eyes lit up get behind the wheel of this glorious car and speed along the desert roads? The desert fascinated her but she hadn't been able to make time to go out there yet. Then she remembered what took up all her free time healing Jimmy. How could she enjoy herself with the monster that'd destroyed Jimmy?

"Don't look like that," Simon said softly at her down turned mouth. "You cannot help him by shutting yourself off from all enjoyment."

"What do you care if I help him or not?" she snapped.

"I don't. But I care very much about your well-being, Meghann, so forget your deranged lover and anything else that puts shadows under those beautiful eyes of yours. Your time with me is devoted to enjoyment nothing more."

After a few moments of uneasy silence, Simon pressed a b.u.t.ton on the car stereo and the small cabin was soon filled with the strains of "Clair de lune."

"Ugh," Meghann exclaimed, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Without bothering to consult the owner of the car, she reached over and scanned the radio stations, leaning back with a satisfied smile when she found "Welcome to the Jungle."

"I think not," Simon said mildly and shut the radio off. At Meghann's scowl, he said, "My dear, in this car we do not listen to those awful jackals you're so fond of. But here's something both of us can enjoy, young philistine." Simon pushed another b.u.t.ton and the CD changed to Muddy Waters, eliciting an enthusiastic if unwilling grin from Meghann. Blues and jazz were the only things she and Simon could agree on as far as music went. Meghann remembered how surprised she'd been to find that the elegant sophisticate that swept her off her feet took such pleasure in seeking out all sorts of back-alley taverns and dives where they'd listen to the sensual, earthy music all night.

"Long Distance Call" came on and Simon turned to Meghann. "Remember when we first heard him play at that club in Chicago? What was it fifty-three?"

"Nineteen fifty-two," Meghann corrected and her grin widened as she remembered the small, smoke-filled club on the South Side. "We were the only white people there and look at the strip! My G.o.d, there's nothing like it." Wide - eyed, Meghann took in the glittering, gaudy neon and truly panoramic sights of the Las Vegas Strip. Her eyes darted around, drinking in sights she'd been too sick to notice when she and Charles first came to town. There were the life-size pyramids of the Luxor, the gaudy medieval pageantry of Excalibur, the pirate s.h.i.+ps engaged in battle in front of Treasure Island Hotel "You've been in Las Vegas nearly a month and you haven't been on the strip?

Good Lord, girl, you may as well enter a convent for all the fun you have." Simon swung the car into the driveway of Caesar's Palace, casually tossing the keys to an amazed valet. With amus.e.m.e.nt, Meghann watched him jump behind the driver's seat, drawing envious stares from his fellow employees.

"What kind of picnic can we have here?"

"In the Forum, dear girl, is the Stage Deli, which makes what is possibly the best pastrami in the world, even rivals New York delicatessens."

"We'll see about that," Meghann sniffed and observed the garish spectacle of gladiator waiters, toga-wearing c.o.c.ktail waitresses, and vast Roman-style temples filled with slot machines. It was irredeemably tacky, vulgar even, but Meghann found herself charmed by the sight. She'd always liked casinos, ever since Simon first transformed her and took her to a casino hotel he owned in pre-Castro Cuba, telling her a rich vacation spot was the perfect place to teach a novice vampire the ropes telekinesis she learned by manipulating the dice on the c.r.a.ps tables, and blackjack and poker sharpened her ability to read minds and win considerable small fortunes.

Simon took her hand, grasping it firmly when she tried to pull away. "Doesn't it feel good to be out in the world again, sourpuss?"

"It's all right," she allowed grudgingly, conceding to herself that the bright lights, hectic ringing bells of slot machines, and busy chatter of mortal gamblers were making her feel more invigorated. "But I'd like it more if you weren't here."

"If it were not for me, you'd be keeping your guilt-stricken vigil for your lost lover as we speak. Now, tell me why you cannot enjoy yourself with me. What is it, sweetheart? Fear Alcuin might spin in his grave if you find pleasure in my company?"

While they spoke, Simon guided Meghann through the crowd of gamblers and tourists to Caesar's famous Forum shops, a gargantuan complex of stores that tried in vain to resemble a cla.s.sical Italian streetscape.

"Enjoy myself with you?" Meghann's voice dripped scorn. "Your only interests in life are bloodletting, s.e.x, and making money in that order. We have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"Oh, no? As I recall, you used to show enthusiastic interest in at least two of my preferred activities. And there is plenty we can talk about."

"Like what?" she asked absently, her attention focused on the ceiling above them, cleverly painted to resemble a Mediterranean sunset.

"We could decide what to name our son."

Meghann's head swiveled in his direction. "We're not having a son," she informed him. "I dream of having a daughter and my dreams almost always come true."

"I've been dreaming for more centuries than you've been alive and it's always a son I see. But don't glare a daughter is as welcome to me as a son."

"I'm going to name her Isabelle," Meghann said, making a wicked reference to the mortal wife he'd killed shortly after transforming.

"Impossible," Simon said flatly. "If we have a daughter, there is only one name for her Elizabeth."

"Was that some lover of yours?" Meghann asked, disconcerted by the obvious affection in his voice when he p.r.o.nounced the name.

"Hardly." Simon laughed. "I cannot claim the Virgin Queen as one of my mistresses. I'm afraid my explanation is not at all salacious I simply swore to Elizabeth I would name my firstborn daughter after her and no matter what my enemies say of me, you will never find anyone to tell you I broke a vow."

"You told the Virgin Queen you'd name your daughter after her? When? Oh, G.o.d."

At Meghann's green-tinged complexion, Simon gathered her up and set her down at the edge of a large marble fountain.

"Crackers," she managed to mumble and he had the plastic bag of saltine crackers out of her satchel and at her mouth in an instant.

"Slow," Simon ordered and she simply nodded her head, nibbling cautiously at one cracker.

"There now," he murmured, resting her head against his shoulder while Meghann felt the nausea start to recede. "It's just morning sickness, little one soon it will pa.s.s and you'll feel better."

Meghann did feel better, though she wasn't sure if it was the crackers or the way that Simon rocked her like a small child that accounted for her sudden sense of well-being. Unconsciously, she leaned against his shoulder, thinking of how nice it felt not to be worried or scared. How long had it been since she was able to relax?

Too long you've been fighting and struggling against me. Let it go, sweet, let it go.

Think it's going to be that easy to make me forget what you are? Meghann glowered and pushed herself away from Simon. What was the matter with her, clinging to him like that? She should feel repulsed when he touched her, not comforted.

Simon laughed and stretched one long arm out to pull her back against him.

"Do you truly believe you can force your heart to follow your conscience? All right, stop scowling like that I'll say no more about it, we'll simply continue our evening together. Why don't you eat a few of those crackers and I'll tell you all about my deathbed promise to Queen Bess, as well as how I eased her from life into death, while you regain your equilibrium?"

Meghann nearly forgot her inner turmoil at Simon's words. "You helped the queen of England die? Why?"

"Because I loved her," he said simply and began telling Meghann of his last encounter with the Virgin Queen a tale he'd never shared with anyone else.

March 24, 1603 Richmond Palace, England

"Identify yourself," the dying queen ordered in a strong tone that belied her illness, sitting ramrod straight on her lavishly carved and curtained bed.