The Companion - One With The Shadows Part 13

She certainly was a pa.s.sionate little thing. And he had done his part from first to last. Even now his c.o.c.k was willing. It rose where their thighs tangled wetly together. He was a man again, well and truly. That felt good.

The lazy smile rising to his lips turned sour. The true disaster was that he had not gotten her out of his system. Far from it. She had wound her way even more tightly into his psyche.

I... I think I'm in love with her.

The thought struck him like a blow. He had never allowed himself to fall in love in all his years. Was that why he hadn't recognized it? They bickered. She was impossible. She was a charlatan and a thief who had not the slightest conception of duty and honor. They had nothing in common but a certain distance from their fellow man, and a biting, cynical perspective on the world. Strange in one who had lived not a single lifetime. And intelligence. He had always been a sn.o.b about intelligence.

Courage? He should have so much courage as she did.

Still, they were different species altogether. But pleasing her, protecting her from her own insecurities or anything else that threatened her, was the most important thing in the world to him. Was that... could that really be love? All he knew was that he couldn't imagine being without her. And that had never happened to him before. He wasn't quite sure how it had come about.

Who knew that love could coexist-no flourish-with exasperation and annoyance?

And by the way, how could any p.r.i.c.k have made love to this woman and never given her an o.r.g.a.s.m? He was fairly sure tonight was her first. And second. The smug smile rose to his lips again. He could not help it. There were advantages to having a carnal knowledge of thousands of women. He'd given her pleasure. He would give her more tonight, and later today.

And then what? That was the disadvantage to his centuries. He could not lie to himself. It was one h.e.l.l of a disadvantage.

I am a vampire, just as you suspected, a monster who drinks blood, and I will live forever while you fade and age. Join me.

Hardly an alluring proposition for any woman. One he had vowed never to propose. If she somehow could manage to care for such a monster, the difference in life span stood between them and would ultimately break her heart as it had his father's. And if he didn't tell her and she accepted him... well, then he could conceal his failure to age for a few years. A dozen? Two? Such a short time in the span of things. And after that there was only telling her or desertion.

How could he abandon her, who was scarred by her parents abandoning her?

Perhaps there was no choice about that. Better early when she was not involved emotionally with him than after they had spent a dozen years together. That would be even more of a betrayal. A dozen years with Kate would be heaven. But he could not be so selfish. He must begin imagining life without her.

He settled her more securely in his arms and brushed his lips across her hair. The air around him felt thick, like a weight on his chest. The ache inside him couldn't decide whether to come to rest in his heart or his belly. He almost wished he hadn't realized he loved her. How would he bear giving her up? He had thought his life seemed bleak when he returned from Algiers. Now the landscape of his life was dry and featureless.

"Kate," he murmured. "Kate."

Rain began to hammer at the roof. Outside the open doors to the balcony, it came down like a curtain of tears. He looked down at her again, sleeping so securely in his arms. He must not let her become attached to him. That would be difficult. Women always seemed to fall in love with the first man who gave them an o.r.g.a.s.m. Yet another reason for his rule against virgins. But was she attached? He wasn't sure. Maybe she had just wanted his body. If that was true, it was just as well. He would not let her see his sorrow. He would do his duty and send her on her way. No, better, he'd ask her to stay here with his mother while he went to Mirso with the stone, then he'd accompany her to London himself, see that she was settled. And then he'd have done his duty all around. Maybe he'd return to Mirso, for good this time, and take the Vow. He squeezed his eyes shut. All that was for later. For the next hours, he just wanted to take care of Kate.

He eased himself out of bed. He'd start by getting her some food. She'd be hungry when she woke. Some wine from his vineyards at Montalcino, cheese, fresh tomatoes from the garden, olives, a little bread and olive oil...

He dressed hastily and slid out the door to find a servant. Or no... he'd go directly to the kitchens.

Kate rolled over and considered opening her eyes. The bed was empty. She could feel that. What she had expected?

What she had not expected was how much his leaving hurt.

You are in trouble, Kate, my girl. Best get out your suit of armor. Because if he ever knew how vulnerable your heart is, he would use it against you in a second.

She had taken him to bed for purely selfish reasons. And some deity or other had dispensed her comeuppance. Because she had lost her heart. Actually had probably lost it long before he ever stripped and made love to her so tenderly. How had this happened? She had never loved anyone before. Maybe she loved her parents, but she couldn't remember that. And it had turned out badly anyway.

This would turn out badly too. She had thought when she first met him he was just a pretty face that turned her head. A pretty face and an exquisitely masculine body. But what she felt was more, much more than that. She liked him. And it was comforting that she was not the only one. His servants, his mother, even his horse Piccolo doted on him. But somewhere along the line in the last days he had wormed his way past liking.

Her mind returned to how generous he had been, how... sweet to her. Not a word she would have a.s.sociated with Gian Urbano before this night. Why had he done it? Why had he bothered to give her so much pleasure? No other man had ever done so. And no one had ever had the inclination to bed her at all since the scar. The way he had lifted her face and looked full in her eyes without flinching had been... unbelievable. What must it have cost him to make love to a woman who looked like her? She had not expected such generosity. Even if he was lacking for other partners (which he couldn't be, could he?) she would have thought when he had been ready to get past his fear of being impotent, he'd have chosen one of the servants, or...

or anyone besides her. And once she knew he was willing to bed her, she would have been content to have him in the same way she had accommodated Matthew's arranged partners, but he had given her so much more. And he seemed to want so little in return.His silly fear of starting fires-what was that about? No matter that it was born of his fear of failing as a man, it was real enough to him. She was glad she could help him get past it. Perhaps that had been recompense at least in part for the realization he had given her that pleasure could be shared. Lord knows, he'd be back to arrogant again now.

She remembered how angry she had been at him about the fact that he was centuries old and hadn't told her. He did seem to be the nexus of all the chaos in her life. But she couldn't be angry with him, not anymore. Indeed, what point to accost him about it at all? Just to hear him lie? One thing hadn't changed. He was a consummate liar. He'd probably tell her he loved her, as he must have told a thousand other women, right up until the moment he paid her, packed her off for England, and never thought of her again.

She sat up, sighing. Best she get her clothes on before the servants saw them scattered all over the carpet. His own clothes were already gone. He had exacted his price for the lovemaking after all. Or soon would. He was about to break her heart.

Nonsense, she told herself. You had never known what making love was before tonight, and your life was poorer for it.

Now you do. That was a generous gift. Don't be greedy.

Gian picked up the tray from the table in the hall where Kate's dresser had set it. The world looked... clean from the arches in the hallway that looked out over the Uffizi. He had put on a silk jacket over a pair of breeches he wore without the benefit of smalls and picked out several books from his mother's excellent library. For Kate a first edition of Dante's Divina Commedia to introduce her to Firenze's most famous literary son, and, since she seemed to like the Romantics, he brought his copy of Don Quixote. He'd also brought a very special book he had from India. He grinned. She might be offended by that one. Or she might just like it very much. He'd been surprised at how open and sensual she had been this night, for one who had never experienced a generous partner. It was bad that he loved her. But on the other hand, he hadn't set his lover on fire. And he was more than capable for the first time in more than two years of holding up his end of the s.e.xual bargain. Which he intended to do repeatedly tonight and right through the day.

"Bring up some extra candles, Carina, if you would." The serving girl looked remarkably radiant, though her eyes were red. She had been moping about since the moment he first gave her orders for Kate's comfort after the journey. "You seem more cheerful."

"Giovanni proposed to me, just like the Signorina said he would, in my room with the rain coming down. I expect I has her to thank for it somehow."

Gian drew his brows together. "Miss Sheridan told you he would propose?"

"She saw my eyes last night, all red they was from cryin' over that fat girl that delivers the sh.e.l.lfish, because I thought he was making eyes at her, and the Signorina went all funny like for a minute, and then she comes to herself and says I wasn't to worry, that a groom would propose to me up under the eaves with the rain coming down. And he did, just now."

Gian managed a smile. "And you said yes, I presume."

The girl beamed. "I hope the mistress don't mind. I mean, I'd hate for one of us to have to find another situation."

"I'm sure she looks fondly on true love," Gian said. "My congratulations."

"Just call if there's anything you or the Signorina need. I expect you won't want to be coming out for a while just yet." Carina waved most improperly as she skipped toward the narrow servants' staircase.

Gian sighed. Well, he and Kate hadn't actually been quiet. It wasn't surprising that the whole household knew. They would also shortly know that Kate had "predicted" the proposal of the f.e.c.kless Giovanni. Had she? If she had just been playing at her chicanery and she'd been wrong, the girl would have been devastated. Kate wasn't that cruel, was she? She pretended to be hard and uncaring, but he had seen beneath that. She might have guessed the girl was crying over a man. But the detail of the rain and the fact that he was a groom.Everything he'd heard said about her fortunes indicated they were humdrum predictions about whatever her victim wanted to hear. Except that very pointed warning to the conte about staying home on Thursday and avoiding coaches. He wished he knew exactly what had happened to the conte on Thursday, but they had left Rome by then.

And then there was his own reading. He hadn't minded all the foolishness about being the devil. He was used to that. But the impotence? A lucky guess? Something she'd heard? He'd taken pains to conceal it, else the supply of bedmates to give him blood would have dried up.

And the part about the stone? He'd always believed she got that information from LaRoque. But then why alert Gian to her knowledge? She should have wanted to keep their a.s.sociation secret. As for this latest "vision," maybe she had seen or heard Giovanni do something that indicated he would propose. But again how could she know about the rain?

Hmmm. Interesting. When had he not known everything about a woman? He should mistrust her. But on some visceral level, he trusted her more than he had ever trusted anyone in his life. It had to do with the vulnerability he saw beneath the hard exterior.

She only pretended to be heartless and amoral. Didn't she?

He knocked at the door with the corner of the tray.

"Come in." Kate's voice drifted out. It had a somber tone to it.

"My hands are full. You'll have to let me in."

Hesitant steps. The door cracked open, hardly an inch, and Kate peered out.

"I thought you might be hungry."

"Oh."

"Well, aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm hungry."

"Well, then, you might want to let me in."

"Oh." This time the door opened wide. She was dressed in that beautiful blue wrapper that matched her eyes again, and she smelled of what they had done together. He smiled. How could he not? Like Vulcan drawn to Aphrodite, he was lost, no matter who she was.

What was he doing back? And bringing her food, and... were those books under his arm? And... he had on a man's dressing gown. Kate's mind fluttered around what that might mean.

Then he smiled. Kate stepped back and swung the door wide under the blast from that smile. Perhaps she would get used to it, but at present, it devastated her every time he did it. But then, she would not have time to get used to it. She was leaving today, if the draft arrived. She glanced to the doors open onto the balcony and saw the first hint of lightening in the sky.

He set the tray down on the bed, closed the shutters to the balcony tightly, and pulled the heavy velvet draperies across their rod. In order not to be caught staring at the body she knew moved beneath the silk of his dressing gown, she sat cross-legged and busied herself with the tray. He had brought quite a repast. She popped an olive into her mouth. They were green, pungent.

They seemed to hold the summer sun. "This is good."

He opened the bottle and poured her some wine. "My own vintage," he murmured. He unveiled the cheese and the tomatoes, sprinkled them with basil and drizzled oil over them.Kate took a bite, "Lovely. The oil tastes fruity."

She looked up to find he was watching her as she ate. He made no move to eat himself. He was going to tell her he was leaving.

He had come back only for that.

"Your maid may be preoccupied today. One of my mother's grooms proposed to her last night during the rainstorm."

Kate felt the blood drain from her face. The fork she held clattered to the tray as the room began to spin. "So... so soon? I... I wasn't sure just when..."

Somehow he was holding her. He'd swept the tray to the other side of the bed and she was shaking as he held her to his chest.

"Oh, G.o.d, Gian." The sobs took her. "I wasn't... sure, not... not until now."

"It's all right." He stroked her hair. "It's all right."

She wanted to him to hold her forever. And that was exactly why she couldn't let him continue. She sat up and tried to get her breath. "I'm fine. Just startled, that's all."

He handed her the gla.s.s of wine. "I take it this is a recent development?"

"Since... that night at the marquesa's little gathering. That was the first time. The one with the stone." And the one with him in it.

Dear G.o.d, he was going to be tortured! She had to prevent that somehow. Could it be prevented? She grabbed his biceps.

"Gian, I saw you, chained to a stone wall. Like it was a dungeon. And someone was... hurting you with that stone."

His face turned grim, but his tone was light. "Did you happen to see who it was?"

"A woman's hand, no more."

He lifted his brows, thinking. "Probably Elyta. I have not... endeared myself to her."

"What is this stone that it can hurt you and drive the jeweler mad?"

He frowned. He was thinking how to lie to her. "It is a... a relic if you will, from the first of those with the Companion in their blood."

"The Companion?"

"The parasite that shares our veins."

"I thought you said it was an infection. Gian, you have got to tell me the truth about you at least, because so many strange things have been happening to me, I just don't think I can bear it if I don't understand at least in part." Still she saw him hesitate. "I know, for instance that you are very, very old. Don't even bother to tell me that Michelangelo sculpted some ancestor." That closed his mouth before he could even speak. "And I've been having visions about people's moments of intense emotion in the future. I could have been mistaken about the others. But one has just come true. Not to mention the emerald that drives people mad. It's all too much."

He started to speak then pressed his lips together and looked away.

"Very well," she said, rus.h.i.+ng on. "So you won't tell me. Probably out of some mistaken sense of duty to somebody or other, or honor or something. You have to tell me what the stone can do. Why do I see it hurting you? I have to know that."

He looked down at the brocade bedcover, obviously disgusted with himself. "It takes energy from those who have the Companion.""I've felt your vibrations. Is that your... Companion doing that?"

"Yes. The Companion provides energy to us. The stone saps it and leaves us weak. I think it can kill us. But only if it touches our Mesh."

She realized that he'd never touched it. No wonder he'd let her keep it after she'd removed it from its box. "And we... others?"

She couldn't say "humans."

"It drives you mad when you look into it."

She knew that firsthand. But it was hard to hear it confirmed so calmly. "How?"

"It is said that you see all possible futures in it."

"But it didn't drive me mad, and I looked at it."

He looked up at her under his brows. "Yes. That has me puzzled. There are many puzzling things about you."

She sighed. "Why does Elyta want it?"

"I don't know the particulars. But think what she could do with it." His voice was grim. "She could kill the Elders of our kind.

She could drive the men who direct history mad, bring down governments..."

"I see what you mean." But Kate really didn't care much about all those theoretical possibilities. "We must prevent this... this thing from happening to you." She had always thought he wanted the stone to give to some woman, if she considered it at all. But he couldn't, not if it drove people mad. "What do you mean to do with the emerald?"

"Take it to Mirso Monastery, a refuge for those who are infected as I am. The monks there will keep it from doing harm to anyone."

"Just throw it in the nearest lake. That's the way to keep out of anyone's dungeon."

He let out a breath, as though he had been holding it. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm honor-bound to return it to Mirso."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. "With Elyta waiting to kill you for it, and my vision of you being tortured, you're still considering going on some insane journey to... where is this Mirso Monastery?"

"The Carpathian Mountains."