—”
“Strong?” asked Lady Brookshire. “And perhaps”—she lowered her voice—“somewhat aroused?”
Felie blushed. She saw that Guidon and Mrs. Darkwell had moved into the room, and stood together, by the fireplace.
“All right, we will leave now. You and Ravenhunt should be alone. We’ll leave a carriage to take you home.”
With that, she was gone.
Raven only had eyes for Felie, but he heard Guidon say softly. “It is time, my dear. Touch her and take her power. Then the curse will be at an end and you will be free. I believe Lady Ophelia is the one hundredth young lady who has found love.”
Mrs. Darkwell moved across the room like an angel flowing over a cloud. She smiled and laid her hands gently on Felie’s shoulders. Felie cried out, and he raced across the floor, ready to catch her, to help her.
But she squealed with joy. “I feel—I feel brighter! I can’t explain it, but I do.”
She threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him off his feet. Her lips touched his, and an explosion rocked Raven in a ripple of the ground and a flash of color and light.
Ophelia pulled back.
She looked to Raven, and saw his brows jerk up. “What—what in Hades just happened?” he muttered.
She spun to see what could have startled a vampire, fear gripping her heart. Guidon was gone. In his place was a tall, handsome blond gentleman who had no clothing at all.
“Go,” Aphrodite’s daughter said, shooing them with very ungoddess-like motions. “You have finally found happiness. I know where I would rush to if I were you.”
She smiled wickedly.
Ophelia grasped Ravenhunt’s hand. She gazed into his gleaming black eyes. “Bed!” she declared, at the exact moment he said it.
Hand in hand, they left the abandoned church, where a carriage waited. Her brother’s. The footman bowed. “His lordship has left us at your service, my lady.”
“Where should we go?” she asked.
“Home—I want my home to be yours now.”
“All right,” she agreed. “But only if I can decorate it.”
He laughed, and she loved the rich, delighted sound. As he handed her into the carriage, he admitted, “Before you, I don’t think I ever laughed in my life. Even when I was young, I never had any reason to laugh since I knew my father blamed me for my mother’s death. You’ve brought me pleasure and happiness.”
“This is what I always dreamed of having,” she said softly. “But that’s what love brings, doesn’t it? Well, perhaps not happiness and laughter for every moment. But it gives us the strength so we can laugh. Even when there are hard times, or pain, or fear, love gives us the strength to endure.”
She settled in the seat, and he sat at her side.
“I hated Mrs. Darkwell for keeping me a prisoner,” she continued, “but I must thank her, for she found love for me.”
“I think she has been well rewarded.”
“I am so happy Guidon’s curse is ended. I like him very much.”
Raven grinned. “I never would have guessed that was what he actually looked like.”
“It’s not his looks that are important, Raven. Mrs. Darkwell loved him even when he was a little gnome-like man, and that was because he is intelligent, caring, and has a good and noble heart. Those are the important things.”
“So if I were cursed to look like Guidon, you would still love me?”
“Always,” she said firmly.
The carriage lurched away.
“When we go to bed,” Felie said softly, “I want you to tie me up. I—I know I don’t need to do it anymore, since I can touch you. But I liked it.”
Raven stared in amazement.
“Oh dear, you aren’t shocked, are you?”
“When it comes to lovemaking, Felie, I hope you shock me every day of our lives together. For eternity.”
Candlelight illuminated Raven’s remarkably sculpted derriere. Squinting at the clay in front of her, Ophelia drew her carving tool along the curve she’d formed, trying to match exactly the beautiful muscular shape that defined Raven’s delectable rump.
She didn’t have much time, as they were due to leave very soon. She set down her tools, got up, and walked to her model. He stood in a pose, naked, holding a bow and arrow.
She had to make certain she got this right. She just had to explore those firm cheeks of his a little more—
His rigid cock jolted as she fondled his rump.
Meeting her eyes, Raven groaned. “I’m in pain, love. I need a break. An erotic break.”
“Again?” She gave a teasing pout. “But this will be the fourth one. This sculpture will never be finished at this rate. Every time I make any progress, you insist on stopping.”
He gazed at her with ink-black rueful eyes. “Felie, you spend as much time fondling me as you do sculpting. I’m not strong enough to resist getting aroused when you stroke my arse.”
“Think of this as building fortitude—”
She broke off as he tossed down his bow, cupped her chin, and drew her to him. A shiver rushed over her. He lifted her gently, so she had to stand on tiptoe, and he slowly let his mouth play over hers.
In a long, smoldering, melting kiss, quivers tumbled down to hit the throbbing pulses of desire in her quim, and she gasped into his mouth. She ached for him. Needed him. Hungered for him.
“I want to be tied up,” she whispered, when he let her catch her breath. It was just for fun now, and how she loved it.
He said nothing. He did not have to. She just knew from the hotter light in his eyes exactly what he was going to do.
He lifted her and put her over his shoulder.
He’d built this studio for her in his attic, and it was equipped with a sumptuously appointed daybed: silk sheets, thick rose-scented pillows, and gilt-decorated frame. Downstairs his servants took care of the house. In the month they’d been together, she had helped him change the entire house. True, as vampires, they were creatures of darkness, but she had used her artistic eye to make their nocturnal world beautiful—lush fabrics, many candles, rooms opened.
Raven gently laid her on the bed. Then worry struck. “Do we have time?”
“Very little,” he admitted.
“Then you shall have to tie me up quickly,” she admonished, and she put her hands above her head, wrists locked.
He looped a black velvet rope—kept conveniently by the daybed—around her wrists.
“Ooooh,” she murmured at the soft stroke of velvet on her sensitive skin. How she loved this—this was the only fun way to be a captive, to be mastered by a handsome, black-haired vampire who loved to give her pleasure.
He tied a firm knot, and she played her part of the game, tugging on the rope to prove it was secure and she was his prisoner.
Grinning as she fought the rope, Raven bent and flicked his tongue over her right nipple. It hardened and stood up instantly. She moaned, closing her eyes, and arching her back so he would take her nipple in his mouth and suck her hard.
But he never let her take command so early in the game. He played with the aching tips with his tongue, licking and laving with agonizing leisure.
“The time,” she groaned. “We have to begin to dress.”
His tongue left her nipple, which was not at all what she’d wanted. Opening her eyes, she saw him holding
