Through my veins I felt the same animal desire I’d had for her in the Sturmwald, when we were both wolves. I went to her. We were shadows to each other. I could not even see her eyes. I felt her warm hand take mine, and my heart quickened.
“I had a dream last night,” she said, “of our wedding night.”
I chuckled like Konrad to disguise my shock. Already they were talking of marriage? How long had I been so idiotically blind?
“Tell me,” I whispered, and stroked her hair. I had seen Konrad do it; so I could do it too. As children, I had touched Elizabeth’s hair many times, yanking it mostly. But this was the first time I had caressed it. Her amber mane was so soft-and yet so thick and curly. It had a spirit and wildness to it-a perfect complement to her personality.
“How old were we?” I dared to ask, hoping my voice was not so different from Konrad’s. I needn’t have worried. She wanted and expected Konrad, and so that was who she had before her. I hardly felt myself. In the dark I could be whoever I wanted.
“Not so much older than now,” Elizabeth whispered. “Perhaps twenty.”
In the darkness I blushed to think of our wedding night, and the pleasure it would hold. But then my thoughts soured, for it was not to be my wedding. I should have been glad to imagine Konrad, alive and fully recovered from his illness. But the thought of him wedded to Elizabeth was horrible to me. And her next words only amplified my wretchedness.
“I’ve never felt such joy as in that dream,” she said. “Everything was so clear. The inside of the chapel. The light streaming through the stained glass. My dress. I could describe every detail-but don’t worry. I know that would bore you to tears. Victor was your best man, and Mother and Father were there, and Henry, Ernest, and little William. I saw it all, as vivid as a painting, and felt it all, as though I truly lived it. But there was something else.” She sounded troubled. I felt her other hand touch mine, and this one was icy.
“As we stood on the altar, before we were to be joined forever, my joy was poisoned by a terrible sense of dread. And I heard a voice…”
She trailed off.
“It’s all right,” I murmured. “If it upsets you, don’t speak of it.”
“It was a most malignant voice, one I have never heard, and it said, ‘I shall be with you on your wedding night.’”
I shivered at the words, so full of menace were they.
She leaned her head against my chest. “You’re so healthy now,” she said. “I can’t believe you would ever be otherwise. You must live. It would kill me if-”
“Shh. Don’t think of it. But,” I added daringly, “feel free to think of our wedding night.”
“Konrad!” she whispered with a shocked gasp.
I knew it was a risk, but I could not resist her any longer. With my hand I cupped her chin and tilted her face toward me. In the darkness, as if by perfect instinct, our lips met. Light blazed behind my eyes. I shook with passion, and was all the more surprised by the fervor with which her lips moved against mine.
She had done this before.
She and Konrad had done this before.
Even though I was stealing someone else’s passion, I wanted more of it-but then my jealous anger overmastered me. Elizabeth drew back with a sharp gasp.
“What is it?” I whispered, but I knew what I’d done.
“You bit me!” she said.
“I was… in too much of a passion. Elizabeth, I am so sorry. Is the skin broken?”
I knew the answer to that, too, for I had the faint iron tang of blood in my mouth. And as wicked as it was, I rejoiced at its delicious taste. I had her blood inside me. The blood of my beloved.
“Here, take my handkerchief,” I said hoarsely.
Her fingers touched my face, questioningly, and I took a step back.
“Konrad?” she said, as though she wasn’t altogether sure.
“Who else would it be?” I said, trying to sound a little annoyed. “But we should part. I still feel depleted.”
“Yes, of course, take your rest. I’ll wait here a little longer, in case one of the servants might see us together.”
I gave her hand one last squeeze and swiftly left the library, hurrying down the dimly lit passage to my bedchamber.
At breakfast the next morning I sat down opposite Konrad, and had just started my meal when Elizabeth swept into the room.
“You must have dropped this, Victor,” she said casually. As she passed my chair, she tossed a handkerchief into my lap. On it was a blot of her blood.
And beside it, my monogram.
VF.
What a fool I’d been.
She knew.
She did not meet my gaze throughout the entire meal.
But I did not regret for one second stealing that kiss.
CHAPTER NINE
After lunch Henry and I set out on horseback for Cologny, the small village outside of Geneva where the mapmaker’s widow lived.
I was most relieved to be away from the chateau-and from Konrad and Elizabeth. I didn’t think she had told Konrad about my midnight trickery. Certainly he’d seemed completely natural with me all morning-unless he was a better actor than I thought. Had he done the same thing to me, I would have been volcanic with fury.
The day was sunny but cool, and it was very pleasant to be astride my horse, trotting along the roadway, side by side with Henry. To our right sparkled the lake, alive with sailing vessels bringing freight and passengers to and from Geneva.
“How does it come to you, your poetry?” I asked Henry.
He looked across at me. “You’ve never shown any interest in my scribbling before.”
“I’m curious. Where does it come from?”
He looked off into the distance, frowning. “Small things, often. A vista. A feeling. A longing. It struggles to be described, to be captured.”
I had no shortage of feelings, and usually no problem expressing them-not to those closest to me. So how could my true feelings for Elizabeth have lain dormant for so long? Was it that she’d been raised as my sister, and so I had suffocated any romantic thoughts I’d had for her? But she was not my sister. She was not even a first cousin, but some distant relation. So why had I not allowed my feelings for her to blossom? Konrad had had no such trouble.
I turned back to Henry. “And you can write about anything?”
“Anything I care about.”
“Love?”
He laughed. “Love!”
I shrugged. “Just by way of example. Yes, words and phrases that would describe love. That would, um, impress a young lady.”
Henry sighed. “Good Lord. You are not in love with her as well, are you?”
“I’m sure I don’t know who you mean!”
“You are a terrible liar, Victor. Miss Elizabeth Lavenza, perhaps?”
