Bite at First Sight (8 page)

Mrs. Smythe brought her tea, hiding another yawn.

“Thank you. You may retire now.”

“Are you certain, my lady? What if you need something later?”

“I shall have Anthony or
Don
Villar see to it.” Cassandra felt a pang of sympathy at the dark circles under the poor woman’s eyes. “And please do not be up too early.”

The housekeeper smiled gratefully. “Very good, my lady. If you don’t mind me saying so, you should get some rest as well. You look flushed.”

The observation made her blush further. Cassandra hid the reaction with a sip of tea, relieved when she was left alone. Dwelling on Rafael’s effect on her was clearly dangerous to her constitution. Instead, she forced her thoughts to Wakley’s visit.

“I passed the Oxford examination,” she whispered aloud.

The words gave her a sense of pride, despite how anticlimactic the test had turned out to be.

“What was that, now?” William inquired from the doorway.

Her teacup slipped in her hands. “Nothing. I was only woolgathering.” She winced as the hot liquid splashed on her fingers.

The vampire smirked. “Are you all right, Lady Rosslyn? You look feverish.”

His eyes had a strange, glazed look to them, as if he had taken laudanum. Could vampires take laudanum? Or was he merely hungry for blood? Either way, his stare was most unsettling.

“I am well.” Cassandra drank the rest of her tea, eyes watering as the hot liquid burned her throat. Trying not to shake, she set the cup on its saucer and stood.

His foggy eyes raked down her body. “You needn’t leave on my account. I won’t bite.”

I
wager
you
would
if
Rafael
didn’t forbid it.
She wished he were here now.

“I am only tired.” She curtsied stiffly and left the room without a backward glance.

Not wanting him to follow, Cassandra rushed up to the bedchamber she shared with Rafael and locked the door. Pacing the length of the room, she felt more like a prisoner than ever. Muttering under her breath, she cursed William’s odious presence. Why couldn’t it have been Anthony? He had such kind eyes and such a merry smile that his presence was never discomfiting.

The mantel clock ticked in time with her pacing. When would Rafael return from hunting? Hunting… He was out there somewhere biting someone and drinking their blood.
And
I
kissed
him.
Shivering, she took some wood from the bin and fed the fire.

Sitting before the hearth, she watched the flames. They looked so much like his eyes when they glowed with preternatural heat. Mesmerized, she moved closer. A stray spark singed the back of her hand. Cassandra winced and rubbed the tender spot. How had Rafael borne his entire arm being burned? She shuddered at the thought of such pain even as her physician’s mind wondered how deeply the damage went.

By the time Rafael returned and unlocked the door, her legs had gone numb beneath her. Heart pounding, she scrambled awkwardly off the floor as he entered the bedchamber.

He frowned at the sparking fire and took the poker, carefully adjusting the blaze. “Dawn approaches. Shall I help you with your gown now?”

Blushing, she nodded and turned around, trying not to quiver at the feel of his fingers moving down her spine as he worked the buttons loose. When she stepped from behind the privacy screen, having changed into her nightgown, he’d already laid out a pallet in front of the door.

“Ah, did you have a successful hunt?” she ventured shyly.

He raised a brow and his lips twitched in a half smile. “Yes. Sleep well, Cassandra.” With that, he lay down and rolled over to face the door.

Cassandra sighed and climbed into the large bed, wondering how long it would take to fall asleep despite the acute effect of the vampire’s presence in the room.

8 October 1823

When Cassandra awoke, her pulse raced with anticipation. Thomas Wakley would be here this evening for her lesson. Shoving the bedcovers aside, she sat up and looked at the mantel clock, its face dim in the light of the fireplace’s dying embers. It was a quarter after four. The sun would set sometime after five.

Her gaze strayed to Rafael. He was still asleep on his meager pallet on the floor. His dark brows creased in discomfort. Her heart gave a sympathetic twinge. With his damaged arm, sleeping on such a hard surface was surely painful. Could Wakley help her find the key to healing him? Or did the answer lie within the vampire’s unique biology?

Lighting the oil lamp on the bedside table, she removed her journal and quill from the drawer. For the next hour, she scribbled notes on everything she knew about musculature and burn injuries, along with what she’d learned about vampires and their physiology, searching for something that would cross-reference.

Unbidden, she glanced at Rafael again, entranced by the sharp angles and curves of his lips. Heat flowed through her body at the memory of those lips against hers. As if sensing her stare, Rafael opened his eyes, his amber gaze trapping her breath.

“Good evening, Cassandra,” he said softly. Stretching like a jungle cat, he rose to his feet with predatory grace.

Her nipples hardened under the thin fabric of her bedgown. “Good evening.”

Folding her arms across her breasts, she carefully climbed out of bed and headed to the wardrobe before he could see the effect he wrought.

After he assisted with buttoning her gown, Rafael reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and withdrew a prettily wrapped package. “Wakley intended to sell you this thing. I purchased it instead,” he said gruffly. “I presume it will be useful in your studies.”

Cassandra opened the box and gasped. It was the Van Leeuwenhoek microscope. She nearly dropped the priceless instrument in her surprise. Joy, awe, and confusion warred within her mind as she stared at his gift.

“
Don
Villar…” she said softly. “Thank you. This will be invaluable to my work.”

His sensuous lips—lips that had pressed against hers only last night—curved down into a scowl. “I think we are familiar enough with one another that you should call me Rafe.”

She swallowed, thighs trembling at the potent memory. “As you wish, ah, Rafe.” Her cheeks burned at addressing him in such an intimate manner.

His eyes flared intently. “I will join you in your laboratory after your lesson later this evening so you may resume poking and prodding me.”

On weak knees, Cassandra sat back down on the bed after he departed. What were his motives in giving her such a priceless gift? Was the action akin to giving a mistress a bauble? After all, not only did all of London Society already believe she was Rafe’s mistress, but her bargain with him was indeed similar to prostitution.

But
he
only
wants
me
to
trade
him
kisses
, her mind protested. The hot pulse between her thighs while she was pondering those kisses argued otherwise.

Cassandra shook her head, fighting off the confusing emotions. Likely his gift was motivated by guilt at imprisoning her. She lifted her chin. He
should
feel guilty.

She had not asked to be hauled from her comfortable life and busy studies. And she most certainly did not ask to be imprisoned in his bedchamber every day, facing either death or transformation into a legendary creature that should not logically exist.

Unbidden, her speculative mind pondered such a transformation. Being forced to drink blood and suffer such vulnerability from the sun were distasteful prospects to be certain, but what of the advantages? Rapid healing, lack of aging, superhuman strength, speed to rival a hornet…those were quite tempting compensations. One would think that Rafe would be happier with such abilities and not act so surly.

Yet Cassandra couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy for him. From the moment he’d removed his fangs from her throat, Rafe had made it clear that he did not want this situation any more than she did. In fact, she could almost believe that he detested the predicament more than she did.

Her brow furrowed. Was she destined to be a burden on everyone? From the time her parents died and she was taken into her aunt’s home with obvious reluctance to the moment she was foisted off in marriage to a man who loved another, this had been the pattern.

Yes, Rafe’s present was likely motivated by guilt. But what a glorious gift it was! Once more she caressed the finely made brass edges of the microscope. Either way, what was done was done. They could do no more than make the best of the situation. She with her fascinating new study, and Rafe with his kisses.

And there would be more this night. Cassandra’s belly fluttered and a tender ache pulsed between her thighs. She frowned. Was she anticipating
that
more than her studies? No, that certainly wouldn’t do. She was a
doctor
, not a mindless wanton.

What should be foremost in her mind were the questions she should ask Wakley tonight. Already, a multitude resided in the forefront of her mind, but first she must eat. That would be impossible later, with her stomach’s irrational manner of pitching about whenever the enigmatic Spaniard was in her presence.

Her course of action decided, Cassandra took her microscope and made her way downstairs to the monstrous dining room, made even more cavernous by the shadows cast about in meager candlelight.

Anthony immediately emerged from the kitchens, a soup tureen in one hand and a bottle of claret in the other. “Good evening, my lady,” he said with exaggerated, albeit warm formality as he ladled the soup into her bowl.

Cassandra couldn’t help but smile. “A vampire footman,” she mused aloud. “How very original.”

The vampire grinned, displaying a curious dichotomy of deadly fangs and charming dimples. “Only as you require the next course.” As if to prove the point, he plopped down in the seat to her left, pulled the tureen in front of him, and sipped the soup directly from the ladle. “Mmmm. Salmon chowder.”

Hiding a smile at his outrageousness, Cassandra tasted her own soup. The chowder was indeed delicious. Remembering the greasy fare she’d been served her first night here, she reminded herself to thank Rafe once more for allowing her to bring her cook.

“I say, what the bloody hell is that thing?” Anthony interrupted her thoughts, frowning at her microscope. “It looks like something devised by the Marquis de Sade!”

Cassandra raised a brow. “Who?”

“Never mind. I forget I am in the presence of a lady.” Unbelievably, the vampire appeared to be blushing.

Shaking her head at his incongruous reaction, she explained, “It is a Van Leeuwenhoek microscope.”

“A what?” Anthony’s brows creased.

Cassandra sighed. Did nobody read these days? “It is a device that allows me to see the fine details of the smallest things. This one is said to magnify five hundredfold. I hope to observe Rafe’s blood cells and see how they compare to mine.”

“What are cells?”

By the time Cassandra finished explaining, her soup had gone cold and Cook was making tsking sounds at Anthony from around the corner. With a murmured apology, he swept away the tureen and her bowl and returned with a platter of roast beef.

“So you mean to learn more about what makes Rafe and me what we are,” he said as if the delay hadn’t occurred. “Fascinating. This whole time I thought it was magic. I never entertained the notion that science could explain us.”

Cassandra fixed him with a level stare. “Science can explain everything.”

“I don’t know about that. I’d rather believe in miracles. By the by, I couldn’t help but notice your preoccupation with Rafe’s injured arm. Do you intend to heal it?”

She nodded and replied with a confidence she didn’t feel. “I mean to try.”

The vampire’s eyes widened. “You cannot fathom what it would mean for you to succeed.”

“I always welcome a challenge.” Cassandra toyed with the food on her plate and attempted to keep her tone light, but Anthony’s severity resonated within her mind. For a man…vampire…like Rafe, what
would
regaining at least some use of his arm mean for him? Her heart thrummed. No, she could not fathom. However…she could imagine.

“Do you have any idea how you’ll go about it?” the vampire interrupted her thoughts.

Cassandra touched the smooth, unblemished skin on the side of her neck where Rafe had bitten her. “I do, but I am afraid I will need the assistance of another vampire.”

Anthony leaned forward, all the playfulness gone from his features. “I’m your man.”

This time, Cassandra couldn’t hold back an answering grin. “I had hoped you’d say that.”

True to his word, Anthony followed her up to the lab and complied with her requests and, most importantly, endured her syringe with no complaint.

With just as much aplomb, the vampire bowed. “I hope this will work, my lady.”

“I do as well,” Cassandra agreed emphatically. “I have reason to believe—” Her words broke off as she looked around the laboratory and noticed a change. Four gas lamps had been placed in the corners of the room. Lamps that could illuminate the chamber like daylight.

Her lips parted in awe. “Did
Don
Villar do this?”

Anthony nodded, a strange smile curving his lips. “He seemed to think you need more light for your work, but isn’t this a trifle excessive?”

Cassandra shook her head. Again, that strange warmth curled through her at Rafe’s thoughtfulness. “No, this is perfect! Please, light them all.”

Before Anthony could reply, she dashed past him down the stairs and out to the icehouse. Teeth chattering from the frigid air, she seized the chilled vials containing samples of her blood as well as Rafe’s. Her heart pounded with exhilaration at the prospect of a new discovery.

Once back in her laboratory, Cassandra prepared slides of hers and Rafe’s blood with utmost care. The gas lamps were so bright that they nearly made her eyes water. Sucking in a breath, she positioned the microscope close to one of the lamps, angling it for the best possible illumination. Willing her hands to cease shaking, she carefully positioned the specimen of her blood below the lens. Would the Van Leeuwenhoek truly be able to show her blood cells?

It did. Cassandra gasped at the tiny specimens. Not only was she able to see the red cells, but the often-doubted presence of white corpuscles was apparent. Quivering with excitement, she replaced the slide with one containing Rafe’s blood. Just as she’d suspected, there were obvious differences. His red blood cells appeared to be denser and were more oval in shape. Also, there were nearly twice as many white corpuscles than her sample contained.

Checking for consistency, she made a slide of Anthony’s blood. His specimen displayed the same anomalies as Rafe’s. There were also some oval-shaped cells in both vampires’ blood samples that differed from hers. Unfortunately, she couldn’t magnify the slides well enough for a sufficient view.

“Fascinating,” she said softly as she grabbed her notebook to make sketches and record her observations.

Anthony interrupted shortly afterward. “Thomas Wakley has arrived, my lady. He has brought a corpse.” His mouth twisted in disgust. “I’m going to have to heft the thing up here, aren’t I?”

“Most likely.”

Wakley grinned when she greeted him in the drawing room. “Lady Rosslyn, I have the perfect specimen. Male, aged twenty-eight, and he died only two days ago. Nice and fresh.”

“Splendid.”

Anthony grimaced. However, he assisted Wakley in hauling the linen-shrouded corpse up to the laboratory without complaint, although he was looking quite green about the gills when he left them alone.

Cassandra and Wakley each donned aprons, took up a scalpel, and began making incisions in the arm. Wakley explained the function and connection of each muscle, showing her which tendons were most susceptible to damage. They worked quickly, before the scent of decay became unbearable.

When they finished, Wakley covered the specimen with the shroud and removed his apron. “You intend to operate on
Don
Villar’s arm, don’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “I should help.”

“I am not certain he would permit it.” She avoided Wakley’s gaze. It wouldn’t do for a human to witness the methods with which she intended to experiment. She changed the subject. “What would you recommend to treat pain during and after a surgery?”

Wakley ran a hand through his golden curls. “Unfortunately, very little can be done during the actual cutting. I suppose you could give him laudanum or perhaps coat your scalpel in a tincture of morphine. Some fellows are experimenting with ether and nitrous oxide, though the latter may be more difficult to procure. As for afterward, I would recommend cannabis. I have found the herb to be effective on muscle spasms and other ailments.”

Cassandra smiled gratefully as she put away her scalpel and jotted down a list. “I cannot thank you enough. When will you be able to give me another lesson?”

“I cannot come tomorrow. I have a lecture scheduled as well as more work on
The
Lancet.
Perhaps the night after?”

“That is agreeable.” She rang for Anthony.

Wakley stroked his chin, suddenly looking speculative. “Lady Rosslyn?”

“Yes?”

“The enterprise that you are about to undertake is admirable and ambitious. I would very much like to publish a portion of your results in
The
Lancet
.”

Her breath caught as one of her most secret dreams was voiced. “You want me to write for
The
Lancet
?”

He nodded. “Anonymously, I’m afraid. If word got around that the articles were penned by a female, my journal would be discredited.”

“You wish me to write about the surgery?” The implications of his request chased away her elation. Rafe was a vampire and the operation she planned was unlikely to work on humans. And that would surely be more damaging to
The
Lancet
than studies published by a dowager countess.