Be Mine Tonight (20 page)

She just wanted him to change her.

No, he wouldn’t think of that. Not now. He wanted to. God knows the idea of spending eternity with Pru was something crossing his mind more and more as of late, but he would not bestow this curse upon his beautiful Pru.

Of course, she hadn’t mentioned it again, but he knew she thought about it. He could see it in her big hazel eyes. He also knew that her thoughts now had less to do with immortality and more to do with him.

If they weren’t careful, one or both of them were going to end up in love, and then it would be all the more painful to part.

Even though he knew this, Chapel had no intention of leaving her until he had to. Was it selfish of him? Hell, yes. Did he care? Not a bit.

Pru drove him to the brink of ecstasy time and time again, until sweat beaded on his brow and his entire body was tight with tension. He forgot all about the palace and the guards and the cool night air. Nothing mattered but Pru and her taste in his mouth, her tight body around his.

She was close as well, he could feel it in the tension of her thighs, the quickening of her thrusts. It was too much. He’d waited long enough. Holding her hips, he took over, thrusting deep within her as sweet, aching pressure built between his legs. His sac tightened as climax neared and he thrust harder. Pru wrapped her arms tight around his neck and moaned her approval.

Arching his hips, Chapel practically came up on his toes as he pumped into her. Her thighs stiffened and her back arched as she cried out her climax into his mouth.

Her orgasm sent Chapel over the edge. One fierce thrust sent him spiraling into the abyss after her, ripple after ripple of intense pleasure shuddering through his body. Thank God their
lips were still locked together, or else it would be him alerting the guards to their presence—if they hadn’t done so already.

Moments passed as they stood, still locked together, their breath warm against each other’s cheeks. Slowly, Chapel withdrew from the embrace of her flesh and lowered her to her feet. She was a little unsteady as he tucked himself back into his trousers.

She laughed—a throaty, sated sound. “I can’t believe we did that.”

“Who’s there?”

Now it was Chapel who chuckled as one of the palace guards started toward their corner. The man squinted at the darkness. Another few steps and he would see them for sure. Pru quickly stepped forward, snuggling against him, wrapping her arms tight around him once more.

When the guard reached the corner, they were already flying toward home.

S
he was dying.

The certainty of her death was something Pru had long ago faced. From the time she was old enough to grasp the concept of death, she knew that she, along with every other human being in the world, would someday die.

The doctors simply told her it would be earlier than she had expected. The tumor in her womb told her it would be soon indeed.

Her time on this earth was waning, just like the present century. She doubted she would live to see the twentieth century dawn. In fact, she doubted she would be there to decorate the Christmas tree this year.

These thoughts occurred to her in a surprisingly rather matter-of-fact manner. They were
truth and there was no denying them. That didn’t stop her from wishing she could. It didn’t stop her from fantasizing about a miracle cure that would make it possible for her to spend a normal lifetime with her family—and with Chapel. Since she was being honest with herself about her mortality, she might as well be honest about everything else.

She wanted to live more for Chapel than she wanted to live for her family. Was that wrong of her? Was it sinful to imagine him coming to her and giving her his blood as she had given him hers, thus turning her into an immortal being like himself?

Surely there was nothing wrong with wanting to spend eternity with the man who had taken her virginity? The man she loved.

That realization was perhaps harder to face than her own demise.

She had fallen in love with a man who would continue to exist long after she stopped. A man who had been born centuries before herself. Even if she were able to have children, he was not the man who could give them to her. She knew all of this and none of it mattered. When she thought of Chapel, she didn’t think of a vampire. She thought of the man who seemed to delight in making her smile, who didn’t treat her like she was made of glass. He made her feel special, like the only woman in the world.

She would love him no matter what he was.

A week had passed since they had made love at Buckingham Palace. Pru still smiled when she
thought of it. That was a memory Chapel would carry with him for a long time, if not forever. They had made a lot of memories during their time together.

He was so good about indulging her whims. Anything she wanted, whatever she cared to do, he gave it to her. Some nights they flew—flew!—off to another part of the country to experience some part of English culture she had never experienced before. Some nights they stayed close to the estate and drove her father’s Daimler. She was actually quite good at driving now—even Chapel thought so. He no longer told her to slow down or to keep her gaze on the road.

Her family was proving amazing where Chapel was concerned. They treated him like anyone else, even though they knew him to be as far from ordinary as possible. Her sisters, who should have returned to their own lives by now, still lingered. It might be because they were afraid to leave in case she died while they were absent, or they simply didn’t want her to think they were all right with her spending so much time alone with Chapel. Regardless, it was nice having them there. She wanted all the time she could have with them as well, so the daylight hours while she was awake she spent with her sisters and father. Nights she saved for Chapel.

It was a tiring schedule, but one she wasn’t prepared to change.

Today it was a chore to get out of bed. She wanted nothing more than to lie about and drift in and out of sleep. In fact, a little sip of the tonic
she took for pain and she could probably do just that. It might do her good to get a little extra rest. But then she would miss spending the day with her sisters, and she just might miss spending the night with Chapel, and she couldn’t allow either to happen. There would be time enough to spend in bed when the cancer conquered her.

It hadn’t conquered her yet.

Yes, she was going to die. There wasn’t a Holy Grail for her and perhaps there never had been. She and Marcus had been pawns of the Silver Palm, and the order had used them accordingly.

She was through with chasing miracles. Even miracles had a price. Look at Chapel. He had been given the gift of immortality, extraordinary abilities and youth, and yet he saw it all as a curse because the price was that he was forced to feed on humans. A part of her recognized the habit as repugnant, but another remembered how blissful his mouth had felt at her throat.

He obviously had enjoyed taking her blood just as much as she had enjoyed giving it. Where was the sin in that? She could imagine drinking blood herself if it always felt so good.

She could imagine being like Chapel, being able to do all the things he could. The only downfall would be watching her family die.

And that was a tremendous price to pay.

Still, a little voice inside her whispered ever so softly that anything was worth spending eternity with Chapel. As long as they were together she could face anything.

That wasn’t true, of course. It couldn’t be. She
wasn’t
that
much of a romantic, but it sounded nice and it was true that she could imagine spending the next four hundred years or more exploring the ever-changing world with him. No doubt there would be times when she’d miss the sun, or want to kill him, but nevertheless, the idea still appealed.

Yet the idea was useless, and she put it at the back of her mind as she rang for her maid. It was almost time for luncheon and she was supposed to dine with her sisters.

Her maid arrived and helped her dress and pinned her hair. Scrubbed clean and clothed in a gown of soft rose, Pru felt instantly better. She went downstairs just in time to join her sisters in the dining room.

“I was just thinking we were going to have to go fetch you,” Matilda chastised lightly as Pru seated herself. “That’s what happens when you do not go to bed until dawn.”

She didn’t go to bed until dawn because she was often in some other part of the country or making love—if not both—with Chapel, but she wasn’t going to tell her sisters that. They’d only worry about her gallivanting around England and they’d most likely accuse Chapel of taking advantage of her.

“Then I deserve to be tardy, I suppose.” Pru smiled at her sisters. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“Bah,” Caroline said. “You didn’t. We were just coming in ourselves when you arrived. Pay no attention to Mattie. She’s always snippy when she’s hungry.”

They all laughed and seated themselves around the table, where a meal of meats and salads, bread and cheese waited for them.

“You do look tired, Pru.” Georgiana selected a large slice of cold ham for her plate. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Three sets of varying shades of green eyes watched and waited for her reply, wide with concern.

Pru shook her head. “Just staying up too late, as Mattie guessed.” She wasn’t going to tell them she could feel her health shifting. It was almost as though she could feel the thing inside her draining her life.

Out of spite she took a huge piece of ham for herself. She was going to eat, blast it. If the cancer wanted her strength, she was going to make sure she had plenty to spare.

They talked about mundane things, day-to-day happenings, their father and the local gossip. There was much speculating, laughter and the occasional raised voice as they ate and talked.

Then, just as they were enjoying a cup of tea, Caroline fixed Pru with an uncertain gaze.

“Dearest, might I ask you a question at the risk of being impertinent?”

Pru chuckled. “I’ve never known you to do otherwise.”

Caroline didn’t quite return the smile, even though both Georgiana and Matilda giggled at her expense.

“You know, I’m fairly well read on the subject of vampires.”

“Morbid!” Georgiana exclaimed around an overly loud cough. The others chuckled. Caroline’s penchant for gothic novels was hardly a secret.

Sweet Caroline shot her younger sister a look that could have frozen an entire pond. Georgiana had hit a sore spot. “At least I read.”

The sisters laughed at that as well. Georgiana rolled her eyes. Shaking her head, Pru called Caroline’s attention back to her. “What about vampires, Caro?”

Caroline’s pale brow pinched as she fidgeted with her teacup. “According to what I’ve read, they can change humans into vampires by taking the person’s blood and replacing it with their own.”

There was no use in lying. “It seems that way, yes.”

Caroline cleared her throat, her gaze hesitant. “Is Chapel doing that to you?”

Matilda gasped. “Caroline!”

Pru ignored her oldest sister. Matilda acted as though it were none of their business—or that it was horrible to even think such a thing—when in fact they had every right to ask such questions. “No, Caro. He’s not.”

Caroline wasn’t done. She leaned forward, as though afraid someone might walk into the room and overhear her. Her voice lowered. “Is he going to?”

No point in lying about this either. Pru lifted her teacup to her lips. “No. He says he doesn’t want to curse me.”

“By curse, you mean turn you into a creature like him.” Matilda’s eyes were wide as she affected
a little shiver. “A creature who drinks the blood of humans.”

“He is not a
creature.
” Pru scowled as she met her oldest sister’s gaze. “He’s not so different from the rest of us.”

Matilda raised a dark ginger brow. “He’s a vampire, Prudence. Like it or not, that is different.”

Matilda had a point. “He’s not different in the ways that matter. Let’s not forget he saved our lives.”

“I’m not about to forget that,” Matilda replied. “I will be grateful for the rest of my life. Dearest, I’m not attacking Mr. Chapel, I simply don’t want you to think that becoming like him will fix everything.”

“I don’t think becoming like him would ‘fix’ everything.” Not everything, but most of it.

Now it was Georgiana who spoke. “Would you want to become like him?”

Oh, dear. This was going to turn into a full-fledged conversation. Pru sighed and set her cup back in its saucer. “I don’t know. My selfish nature wants nothing more than to live, but I cannot imagine going on forever while my family…” She couldn’t finish. The thought of going on while her sisters aged and died was too painful. She didn’t want to lose them. Didn’t want to see that.

Caroline rubbed her rounded belly, her gaze fixed on the little mound as though she could actually see inside. “But you would always be there if my child needed you—or if her children did, or her children’s children.” She glanced up, her eyes bright with wetness. “I like the thought of that.”

Georgiana’s eyes were wide with wonder. “You would always have a part of us with you as the generations continued.”

Matilda’s brow knitted even as her eyes grew moist. “Our great-great grandchildren could know us through Pru. She could tell them about us. Dear Lord, I had not thought of that.”

“And protect them,” Caroline added. “Truly protect them.”

Her sisters were coming up with scenarios Pru hadn’t even thought to entertain. It was a little awe-inspiring. And touching.

And frightening.

“It’s impossible,” she informed them bluntly, not wanting them to get their hopes up any further. “Chapel won’t do it. I’m going to die. We have to accept that.”

“Perhaps,” Caroline told her with a surprisingly hard glint in her eyes. “But that does
not
mean we have to like it.”

Pru chuckled—it was a bitter, harsh sound. “Trust me, Caro. No one likes it less than I do.”

Chapel was fresh from the bath, wide awake and filled with anticipation as he strode into the library that night to meet Pru. He had received a letter from Molyneux that assured him the priest and Marcus were closer to finding the Order of the Silver Palm thanks to several contacts. Molyneux also had hopes of enlisting Bishop in their quest. Bishop had been hunting monsters both human and non for centuries. If anyone could track the order, he could.

With that news giving him some satisfaction and taking a hefty load of worry from his shoulders, he approached the woman waiting for him on the sofa.

“What would you like to do tonight?” For the first time in a very long time, Chapel actually looked forward to an evening spent among humans. With Pru beside him, he didn’t fear the crowds. With Pru’s blood in him, he didn’t feel as though he were being suffocated by the scents of life and hope and fear.

Patting a spot on the cushion beside her, Pru raised her gaze to his. She looked tired, the delicate flesh beneath her eyes appearing dark and bruised. “I thought perhaps we could just stay in tonight.”

Even had she not appeared tired and frail, he would have known the state of her health from those softly spoken words alone. Pru never wanted to “just stay in.” Pru wanted to go out and do things, see things. Pru wanted to live life to its fullest and she made him want to be there beside her while she did it.

His lungs and heart did not function as a human’s and yet they reacted much the same. The realization that she was not well—that her life might very well be nearing its conclusion—tightened his chest and froze his heart until he thought he too might not be long for this earth. If he thought there was any chance of them ending up in the same place in the after life, he’d die with her.

Seating himself beside her, he took one of her long slender hands in his own. Her fingers were
cold and it scared him. “Did you have an attack today?” He hated that there were hours when he couldn’t watch over her.

She shook her head, little auburn tendrils curling around her cheeks. “No. I’m just tired. I think I’ve had too much excitement these past few weeks. I’m not used to it.”

Was that it, or was there more? He didn’t sense a lie in her voice, but for some reason her words didn’t quite ring true either. Her scent betrayed nothing, but having taken her blood, he was more attuned to the essence of her rather than her illness.

“Are you certain that is all it is?”

Her fingers tightened around his. “I’m fine, Chapel. Truly.”

He chose to believe her—more because he wanted her words to be true than because he truly thought she was telling him the truth.