Goodbye Love (Kendawyn Paranormal Regency) Read online

  “It is a dream.” She laughed again. He could hear relief in her voice. “I knew it. I knew it was dream. First the costumes and then the vampire. Now the carriage and…I’ve traveled to some magical kingdom where they don’t have electricity. Of course I have. This is going to be great. I hope I remember this tomorrow.”

  She wiped tears of amusement from her face.

  “Vampires,” she laughed. “This is the craziest dream I have ever had.”

  He sighed. This was his least favorite part of welcoming new arrivals.

  He continued to hold his hand in hers. “Grace,” he murmured, hoping his voice sounded gentle. “This is no dream. You have triggered your magical gene. Your desperate need, presumably the desire to find your sister, brought you here to Kendawyn—the home of your ancestors.”

  He held her hands tightly in his grasp as he watched her surprise play out on her features. The crazed look of disbelief gave way to shock, which dissipated into horror.

  “What? Magical gene? I don’t—”

  “No human can come to Kendawyn if they do not possess a latent magical gene.”

  “Human? As opposed to?”

  “Well, that is quite a lengthy answer. There are mages here, people like you. All new arrivals are called Tyro, and those who stay eventually become mages. Also, there are other supernatural creatures as well. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts…even reapers…although they are far less common than the rest of us.”

  He could feel her hands trembling and he rubbed his thumb gently over the back of her hand.

  “Us? You mean, you are a…what are you exactly?”

  He tried to smile his friendliest smile, exposing his vampire fangs and attempting to not look predatorial. “Vampire, of course. Every year there is a masquerade ball at St. Claire’s, the Vampire Triumvriant. When you arrived in Kendawyn, your need brought you to the ball.”

  “So, you are saying that you are a vampire. That woman that I saw in the hall…I thought they were just into some kinky dress-up games.”

  He laughed, hoping it did not sound like he was making fun of her. “That was Anna. My sister. She has a tendency to give into her baser instincts. And the masquerade ball is the ideal setting for the, shall we say, polite society to engage in activity that is typically not encouraged.”

  “By activity, you mean feeding on another human?”

  He heard an edge in her voice, a tension that alerted him that she was likely having trouble digesting all that he was telling her.

  He forced his kindest smile and lifted his hand to her face, cupping her cheek softly.

  “I know this is a bit much to absorb. You have been through so much already. I am bringing you to my house where you can rest. In the morning, we shall speak more.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop and before she had a chance to protest, he stepped down and then turned to help her out. But she was not standing there. She was still in her seat where he had left her, staring vacantly at the spot where he had been sitting moments before.

  She looked like a statue.

  “Grace? Grace.”

  When he saw the tears streaming down her face, he was surprised how much it affected him. Her obvious sorrow pierced him to the core.

  Without another thought, he stepped into the carriage and picked her up. The tears continued to leak from her eyes, but she did not seem to notice them. She made no attempt to wipe them and only blinked occasionally. Her eyes were locked in a blank stare.

  “You fool,” he angrily said to himself. “Too much, too fast.”

  He stared at her face. She looked so vulnerable, so small, so frightened.

  “Damn it.” He strode in through the front doors of Silverhurst Keep and began barking orders at his staff, who always stood at the ready.

  “Mrs. Clayton, we have a guest. She will be staying permanently. She is…not well.”

  Because you gave her a fright she was not capable of dealing with, he thought. He felt sick inside at what he had done to her.

  “Please follow me. She will be staying in the Duchess suite.”

  The attendant raised her eyebrows, which would have amused him if he was not so worried about Grace.

  “Yes, sir. Of course, Your Grace. The room is not quite ready for a…” She paused. “A guest. Might I suggest she stay in the lavender room tonight and I will be sure to have the suite ready for her tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “Of course. Send Jane to wait on her. She will need attention through the night.”

  He marched up the stairs, Mrs. Clayton following closely behind, holding tightly to Grace. Holding on to what felt like his future and his past all wrapped up in one small beautiful body.

  “Mrs. Clayton?”

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “She’s…important to me. Please see that she lacks for nothing.” He felt his voice catch as he fought for control over his emotions and cursed himself for showing vulnerability to his staff. But Mrs. Clayton had been with his family for as long as he could remember. She was as much a fixture in this house as he was.

  “Of course, Your Grace. She will be treated as an honored member of the family.”

  Mrs. Clayton turned back the blankets on the bed.

  He laid her gently on the bed and then pulled the blankets up and tucked them in close around her neck. Her eyes were closed now and her breathing had slowed. Good, she was asleep, or unconscious from shock—either was probably better than being awake and fearing for her sister’s life when there was nothing she could do. He tucked her hair behind her ear and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  He was surprised at his instant attraction to this woman, even though she had been in his dreams, and confused by the strong need to protect her. He only knew that she was linked to him now in a way that would change him forever.

  “I will be in the library, Mrs. Clayton. Please notify me the moment she awakes. In the meantime, she is not to be left alone. She is a newly arrived Tyro. She will be frightened and confused.”

  Mrs. Clayton nodded, “Yes, Your Grace. I shall call for Jane immediately. She will sit with her until she wakes. And I shall have tea brought to her. Do not worry, Your Grace. I will see that she has everything she could possibly need.”

  He nodded, fighting the emotion that boiled inside him. “Thank you.”

  Then he turned and left the room, leaving Grace asleep and helpless on the bed.

  In his dreams, he had known their connection was powerful. He already knew that he needed her. That he would have her. She would be his wife.

  He descended the stairs and called for the butler, Mr. Thwaite. “Send for Charles Ashbourne. Tell him I need to see him immediately.”

  Grace woke up, drenched in her own sweat. She’d had terrible dreams—vampires with bared fangs chasing Gillian through the woods in the sparse light of the moon, horrific visions of being trapped in some sort of fancy dress that she couldn’t get out of. But then she’d had some other dreams that were shocking in a different way. The man—did she even know his name?—that had brought her here last night kissed her in her dreams like she had never been kissed before.

  Now she sat here panting, scanning the room from her position while she tried to get her bearings. Where was she? She was covered to her neck with blankets, the softest material she’d ever felt. The walls of her room were a pale lavender, and there was a young, blonde woman dressed in a black and white maid uniform, her hair pulled up in a tight bun. She sat in a chair reading by candlelight. The room was dim, lit only by a few candles that were scattered about the room. Grace sat up, leaning against the headboard and trying to make sense of what was happening to her.

  It wasn’t a dream, then. She was in this place—Kendawyn—with vampires and ghosts.

  Gillian! Gillian was still missing. Still in trouble!

  The blonde woman that had been sitting was suddenly at her bedside. “Miss Carson. I hope you slept comfortably.”

  Grace rubbed her eyes and started to speak, but he
r voice was thick with sleepiness. “Fine,” she said roughly. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I slept fine. Thank you. Where am I?”

  She didn’t remember anything after the carriage ride. The feel of his hands holding hers possessively while he told her about Kendawyn was the last conscious thought she had.

  The blonde woman smiled sweetly, pouring her a glass of water. “Here, Miss Carson, drink this.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Grace gulped the contents of the glass in one swallow and held it out for more. While she poured another glass of water, the woman answered Grace’s previous question.

  “This is Silverhurst Keep. Home of Duke Philip Daventry. He brought you here last night. Do not worry, though, for you will not be staying in this room for much longer. We have prepared the Duchess Suite for you. Are you hungry, Miss?”

  “Duke Philip?”

  Grace’s mind raced as she processed the woman’s words.

  “Yes. Oh, just a moment. I need to summon the Duke. He asked that we ring him the moment you awoke.”

  Grace watched as the woman walked over to the wall and pulled a thick velvet chord of rope that hung from the ceiling near the fireplace. She stayed in bed and took in the luxurious surroundings of the bedroom. Noticing the ornate bureau, her impossibly tall headboard, and the rich bedding and drapes, she could believe that what he’d said about Kendawyn existing outside of time and space was true. She rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of something. Anything. But there was nothing normal about this.

  “Allow me to brush your hair, ma’am, so that you are presentable for Your Grace.”

  Without waiting, the petite woman extended a hand to Grace. Grace reached out for it and the woman helped her stand. The room spun as she stood up and her knees threatened to buckle under, but the blonde woman helped her keep her balance.

  “Thank you. I—” She had no idea who this person was. “What is your name?”

  The woman led her by the hand to the vanity and helped her to sit. “My name is Jane. Jane Armstrong. I shall be your lady’s maid.”

  Grace’s mind raced ahead, confused and afraid for her sister. But she didn’t seem to be able to possess the ability to do anything other than let this woman take care of her.

  Jane brushed her hair and set hair combs while Grace’s mind swirled in total confusion. With her hair pulled up on the sides like this, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and it reminded her of her sister. Gillian loved to wear her hair up like this. She would have loved it here. Tears fell from her face.

  “Miss? I am so sorry. Have I hurt you? Are you feeling all right?”

  Grace swallowed, “No. I mean, you didn’t hurt me. But my sister is missing. I don’t know where she is and I don’t know how to find her. I don’t understand any of this.”

  Jane picked up a handkerchief from the table and blotted Grace’s face. “I am so sorry, Miss. The Duke will help you. He will know exactly what to do. I am certain of it.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door followed by the door opening. The man from last night walked in, saw her tears, and closed the distance between the two of them.

  “Grace? What is it? Has something happened?”

  Defensively, Grace stood up, holding on to the vanity for support. Memories of her dream and the way he’d kissed her sent shivers up her spine and her knees felt weaker than before. She hadn’t been afraid of Philip when she’d last been with him, but dreams full of vampires left her feeling edgy and nervous.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice shook, betraying her. Get a hold of yourself, Grace. She forced her voice to not waver when she spoke next. “I need to find my sister. I appreciate your help last night. You have been very kind, but I need to be going.”

  His lips tightened. He looked angry. His blue eyes burned with fury that should have frightened her, but instead it made her angry. She straightened her shoulders, preparing to insist that she be told the truth about what was going on here. He spoke before she had a chance.

  “Miss Armstrong, you will excuse us please? Wait in the hall. I shall send for you in a moment.”

  Jane nodded and scurried out of the room. Grace swallowed, nervous for some reason to be alone with him.

  He was just as handsome this morning as he’d been last night.

  Breathe, Grace. Think of Gillian.

  “Miss Carson,” he began.

  “Grace. Call me Grace.”

  He sighed and the set of his jaw caused her to step back and bump into the table. She jumped at the surprise. When she looked back at his face, she thought she saw amusement in his eyes.

  This did not amuse her.

  “Very well. Grace. We have much to discuss. I apologize for overwhelming you last night. This is quite shocking for you, I can see. I should have found a gentler way to tell you what has happened.”

  She nodded, trying to concentrate on his words. This was very difficult given the deep tone of his voice and the feeling she got when his eyes were on her face.

  “This is just crazy. I need to find my sister. I don’t have time to play these dress-up games with you. Whoever you are. Who are you, anyway?”

  He smiled patiently. “I am Philip Daventry, Duke of Silverhurst.”

  She rolled her eyes and straightened to her full height. “I see you are going to continue to lie to me. If you aren’t going to help me, then I’m leaving.”

  She didn’t have any shoes on, and her clothes were wrinkled from being slept in overnight. She turned her back to him and started tearing through the drawers and closets to find her shoes. She found her shoes on the bottom shelf of a rather beautiful ornate armoire and jammed her feet into them. Then she headed toward the bedroom door. She could see Philip out of the corner of her eye, if that was really his name, standing to her right with his arms folded across his chest. But she didn’t dare look at him. When she looked into his eyes, she felt confused. Muddled.

  She reached for the doorknob and felt herself being pulled away from the door and into his arms. She sucked in her breath as he crushed her to his chest. With their faces inches apart, she couldn’t avoid his eyes. She was shocked by the depth of passion in his eyes. He wanted her. And she was afraid—ashamed even—that her eyes might hold the same emotion.

  “I am not lying, my dear Grace.” He bent down and kissed her lips, winding his fingers around the back of her neck and threading them through her hair. All conscious thought left Grace in that moment. When she was in his arms, she could think of nothing but his touch. His lips, his hand on her back. Then he roughly pulled away, leaving her gasping for air.

  “I am not lying. You are now in Kendawyn. And I have decided to keep you. You will be my wife.”

  He kissed her again, rougher this time, and as angry as she was with his statement that he would keep her, she couldn’t help but fall under the spell of his kiss. She couldn’t speak.

  When he pulled back again, she could see the strength of his longing in her eyes. “If you don’t believe me, then I will simply be forced to prove it to you.”

  He brought her wrist up to his lips, caressing her arm with his strong, warm hands. She felt dizzy under his touch and tried desperately to remember that she was angry, but there was something that held her there. Then his lips parted, revealing the sharp fangs she’d seen in the carriage last night. Before she had time to react, he punctured her wrist with his teeth and began to drink her blood.

  He had not intended to drink from her. Not like this. Not so soon. He had wanted to introduce her gently to this new world. But he had tried gentle. And she was too stubborn for him to go slow. There was no other way, really. She had to know the truth.

  He brought her wrist to his lips and his breath caught in his throat. The smell of her was intoxicating. His mouth watered as he thought of how succulent she would taste.

  And he was not disappointed. The sensitive skin of her wrist felt like silk under his mouth and her blood was even sweeter than her scent. Her sharp intake of breath while he hel
d her filled him with a power and an attraction that sent tremors of desire through his body.

  He felt her body relax under his hands and when she started to moan in exquisite pleasure, he could feel his desire consume him. He wanted her. Now.

  He left a trail of caresses up her arm and moved to her neck where he pierced her flesh again, sipping from her. Savoring the taste of her. She threw her head back in ecstasy and he felt her hands tighten around the back of his head. He followed the line of her neck with his lips until his lips met hers. He pulled back briefly, looking into her face. When her eyes opened, they were so greedy that he knew she wanted him, too. He pulled her back to him and kissed her slow, long, and soft. Every sound she made, every whimper prodded him along—fueling his longing to know her. Every part of her. His hands began to wander down to the small of her back.

  Then he felt her tears on his cheek and he pulled back immediately. He still held her close, resting both of his hands on her lower back and spoke softly.

  “I apologize, Grace. That was too forward of me. It is just that you tasted so sweet. And your smell…it is lovelier than anything I have ever experienced. Your magic is so…so powerful.”

  You sound absurd, he thought angrily to himself. You have just accosted this woman who has just lost everything. Her sister, her life, her entire world. And yet you cannot stop thinking about how good she tastes. How much you want her.

  Her eyes were closed and tears ran down her face. “I am sorry,” he said again. Then he dropped his hands and stepped back. “I shall send Jane back in. She can help you dress for bed. It is not quite dawn. You should rest. I will return at first light.”

  Then he turned and walked out, running away from a guest in his own house. He pulled the door closed behind him.

  He stopped for a moment just outside the door and ordered Jane to attend to Grace. “Now that she is awake, help her to dress for bed. And find something suitable for her to wear tomorrow. See that she joins me for breakfast.”

  She curtsied politely. “Yes, Your Grace. I will make her comfortable.”

  He stormed away, full of self-loathing and anger.