Page 85 of The Highwayman's Bite

Chapter Twenty-seven

Rhys recoiled in dreadat the sound of the cellar being unlocked. But when the door opened, a most welcome scent filled the dungeon.

“Vivian?” His voice cracked with hope.

“Rhys!” She ran down the stairs and thrust her arms through the bars. Tears glistened in her grey eyes. “I thought Uncle Aldric had killed you.”

He took her hands and placed kisses all over her wrists and palms. Honestly, he did not know why Aldric hadn’t killed him yet. After Rhys had admitted guilt to all the crimes the Lord Vampire charged him with, Lord Thornton had struck him with the butt of the gun and walked out of the dungeon. The next night, Thornton had unlocked his manacles, released a live pig in the cell, and walked back out without a word.

Last night, Lord Thornton had removed the pig’s carcass and brandished Rhys’s application for citizenship, questioning him about the character flaws and disobedience outlined in the letter that John had included. A letter that was supposed to have been a recommendation rather than condemnation.

Rhys had explained his relationship with the vampire who’d made him, utterly perplexed as to why Aldric cared. But the moment Rhys asked about Vivian, Lord Thornton struck him with a backhanded slap and stormed out of his cell. There was no pig that night. Rhys had to make do with a rat that came into his cell.

Aldric had to be torturing him. That was the only explanation. To be so close to Vivian, yet never able to see or touch her again had tormented him to near madness.

Now, Vivian stood before him, and despite his ravening hunger, the temptation to kiss her was much stronger than that to bite her.

Madame Renarde tapped Vivian’s shoulder. “Move aside so I can deal with this lock.”

“I visited Emily,” Vivian said as her companion set to work.

Rhys’s chest tightened at the mention of his niece. “How is she?”

“Worried sick about you, just as I was. Uncle foreclosed on her last week.” Before Rhys could react to that dismal news, Vivian withdrew a sheet of parchment from the pocket of her cloak. “I also discovered that he’d given me the farm as my dowry, but placed in a trust so that if I do not marry, the land will become mine on my twenty-fifth birthday.”

His jaw dropped. “You own the land?”

Vivian nodded. “And then you will own it after we’re married.”

“Married?” A parade of fanciful visions of waking up beside her every evening, sharing a house, and making love to her every day marched through his mind. He couldn’t stop a smile from forming. “Are you asking for my hand?”

Vivian shook her head and returned his grin. “I am demanding it.”

The lock clicked and Madame Renarde swung the cell door open. “You’ll have to elope to Gretna Green,” the companion said. “I do not think you can acquire a special license.”

Rhys caught Vivian as she threw herself into his arms. The bloodthirst reared up, but he suppressed it with the sheer joy in holding her. When his lips touched hers, his dreary cell faded away and he was transported to heaven. Vivian returned his kiss with unchecked hunger. Her low moan was a joyous serenade. Only when he was in danger of becoming aroused in front of Madame Renarde did Rhys regain his senses. With agonizing reluctance, he broke the kiss.

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