Page 36 of The Highwayman's Bite

Madame Renarde gave him a cold reminder one night when he’d finished playing a game of Speculation with Vivian. Their heads had been bent over the cards, inches away from one another and they’d been exchanging humorous banter. Rhys was just thinking of offering to play another round so he could keep conversing with her when Madame Renarde cleared her throat.

“Rhys, I would like to have a word with you in private.” The companion’s tone indicated that she wouldn’t brook any refusal.

Rhys nodded and led her outside.

“You’re attracted to Miss Stratford,” Madame Renarde said coolly, pacing in front of the cave.

Rhys jolted, suddenly feeling like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “She is a beautiful woman,” he admitted. “Charming and intelligent as well.”

“She is,” Madame Renarde allowed, then muffled a cough. “However, if you care about her, you will not act on your attraction.”

“I believe we’ve had this conversation before.” Rhys feigned tired indifference. “I have no designs on her maidenhood, though perhaps Lord Thornton may be more concerned if I give that impression.” He held up a hand as the companion opened her mouth to protest. “I have decided not to go that route.”

Madame Renarde did not appear to be reassured. “And what if Miss Stratford forgets her position and welcomes your advances?”

A pang of longing struck Rhys at the suggestion. Not in the loins as he’d expected—though there was definitely a stirring there—but in the heart. And what did Madame Renarde mean by Vivian forgetting her position? Was she referring to Vivian being a captive, or simply her status as a blue-blood?

His shoulders slumped. Either way, Rhys’s standing as an outlaw eliminating him of being worthy of Vivian’s affections. And that didn’t even take into account the fact that he was a vampire and she a human.

“If she expresses any sort of girlish interest in me, I will quickly dissuade her,” Rhys promised. Thought there was nothing girlish about Vivian. She’d taken to what was doubtless a terrifying situation with a courage and pragmatism he rarely saw, even in men. She was straightforward in all matters and determination radiated from her every word and deed. How could he not admire her?

Madame Renarde interrupted his reverie. “I find that difficult to believe. Not that I don’t think you’ll try, as you seem honest about your intentions to remain within the bounds of propriety, however, I will speak plainly. You are a handsome young man, dashing and charming, and placing an impressionable young woman in what she could constitute as a grand adventure. Moreover, Vivian is stubborn. I do not see how you can withstand temptation and dissuade her if she sets her cap for you.”

“Do not fret, Madame,” Rhys said, heading back to the cave. “I have my ways.” In truth, all he would have to do was bare his fangs at Vivian and then reluctant affection would no longer reflect in her large brown eyes, but fear.

Yet aside from the myriad disastrous results such a reveal could bring, he did not want Vivian to be afraid of him. The prospect stung more than he’d imagine.

***

VIVIAN’S REPLACED THEcards in the deck while Madame Renarde and Rhys had their private conversation. Irritation niggled in her belly at being left out. What could they be discussing? She was certain it had something to do with her.

When her captor and companion returned, their rush to distract her confirmed her suspicions.

Rhys cleared his throat. “I propose we spend more time on the beach tonight. A fairly warm breeze is blowing, but I smell a storm approaching. We should enjoy the fresh air while we can.”

They once more ventured out. Vivian tried to pull Madame Renarde aside to ask what she’d discussed with Rhys, but her companion instead fetched the carved sticks they’d been using as practice swords and offered to spar.

Rhys occupied himself with digging for cockles and clams. The process looked so interesting that Vivian kept watching him instead of focusing on her fencing match, and thus was trounced thoroughly.

By then, she forgot all about the covert conversation and instead became captivated with the process of identifying the little puckers in the sand that indicated the presence of delicious shellfish and digging them out with a cunning stick that Rhys found for her.

“I wish you’d allow us to come out and do this during the day,” she complained as her stick missed a clam and it buried itself deeper in the sand. “It’s devilishly hard to see in the moonlight.”

“I am sorry, Miss Stratford, but it’s a necessity that cannot be helped.” Disappointment rang in his voice, as if he too longed to cavort in the sun.

Madame Renarde nodded at him in what looked like approval. Was it because he addressed her properly, instead of scandalously using her Christian name as he was wont to do?

It had to be. Surely her companion despised being cooped up all day just as much as Vivian did.

As they took the shellfish back into the cave and shucked them, Vivian wondered if the risk of them being spotted was truly as substantial as Rhys claimed. Somehow, she doubted it. They seemed quite isolated.

But maybe they weren’t.

Just as they were eating a creamy stew made with the clams and cockles, Rhys suddenly froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth, raised his head, and sniffed the air. Before Vivian could ask him about that strange action, his eyes flared with dangerous light, seeming to glow in the firelight.

He rose from his seat and bolted out of the cave.

“Mon Dieu!” Madame Renarde exclaimed. “What was that about?”

---