He set the lamp on the table. “I wish I could say. It may be that he’ll never be able to speak of what happened to him. But he has survived.” He stepped closer to me. “You’re not alone, Mina. For good or ill, you never will be again. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

  Warmth pooling in my chest, I nodded.

  With a careful smile, he said, “You must be cold. I’ll light a fire.”

  The room was cold, and the candles cast long shadows on the walls. Yet in my blood, something was simmering. You’re not alone. We’ll face it together. Harker and I were a “we” now.

  As he was turning toward the hearth, I said, “If we light the cookstove, I can make supper and tea. It heats the cottage enough for all but the bitterest-cold days.”

  He gave me a doubtful look. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather rest?”

  “I think it will help take my mind off things. If Jack does come back, he’ll likely be hungry.”

  It turned out Harker had no experience with cookstoves, but I showed him the firebox and the basket of wood and kindling, and by the time I’d changed into a dress that I didn’t mind soiling, he had it ablaze.

  “This seems a worthwhile apparatus,” he said.

  He moved to the other side of my worktable and watched as I mixed ingredients for pie dough. I would have to bake from what I had on hand—eggs, potatoes, a few dry crumbles of cheese, and a tin of smoked pilchards.

  It felt very strange having him here in our cottage. I wondered what he made of the rough planked floor and plain furnishings. Though I was doing something I’d probably done a thousand times, I was nervous and kept spilling and dropping things.

  “Mrs. Moyle gave us the stove when she put a new one in The Magpie’s kitchen,” I explained. “I’ve been thanking her ever since by making pasties for the shop.” I picked up the rolling pin and flattened my dough. “Jack’s always complained about my job, and he certainly wasn’t keen about putting in the stovepipe, but he’s never complained about going hungry.”

  “He seems not to realize how lucky he’s been to have you.”

  I smiled. “Maybe. But we’ve always depended on each other. And I’ve been lucky, too. He might have left when Da and Mum passed. He hates the mine. But he stayed.”

  “What would he rather do?”

  I turned to prick my boiling potatoes with a fork. They were soft, and I set them off the heat. “I don’t know, and I don’t think he does, either. Jack’s always been a dreamer.”

  Who is it that’s married the mysterious master of Roche Rock?

  “What have you dreamed of, Mina?”

  Harker’s voice was low, and I turned. “Me?”

  He held my gaze and waited.

  No one had ever asked me this question. Not even dear Mrs. Moyle.

  I gave a slow shrug. “People like me don’t really dream. Our future is set from the day we are born.”

  “Not even when you were a child?”

  He wasn’t going to accept a glancing answer. I folded my arms, considering.

  “I suppose I did dream when I was a girl. Twins are close, and my dreams were wrapped up with Jack’s. For a time, I wanted to be a Knight of the Round Table.” Harker smiled at this. “And for a time, Jack didn’t see any reason I couldn’t be. We were near grown when our parents died, and soon after that Jack took to the bottle. Then I dreamed of a change. Any change, really. I was lonely.”

  “So you went to The Magpie.”

  I lifted my piecrust into the tin. “Mrs. Moyle opened the tearoom after losing her husband, and in a way, she and I became family. We enjoy each other’s company. She helped me with my reading and writing. She loans me books. My pay from The Magpie makes our lives a little more comfortable.” I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “And I meet interesting people.”

  He laughed, and the sound lifted my heart.

  But he soon sobered. “Did you think of marrying? Of having a family of your own?”

  I eyed him, uneasy. “Not in a way of longing for it. I knew it would likely mean giving up The Magpie. But I miss Jack and me and our parents all together. I haven’t quite figured out who I am without them.”

  He nodded and lowered his gaze to my flour-dusted worktable.

  “How about you, Harker? What have you dreamed of?”

  Eyes still down, he echoed, “My future was set from the day I was born.”

  I could have asked him what he’d asked me. Not even when you were a child? Yet I knew what his childhood had been, and the question felt cruel. No mother, no brothers or sisters. A boy who went looking for a playmate inside the other tower he could see from his window.

  I pressed and smoothed the crust into the tin, wishing I were better with words.

  Finally, he looked up. He smiled, but there wasn’t much warmth in it.

  “Once we’re legally married,” he said, “everything I have will be yours. I’ll go over the books with you. We’ll find a new solicitor, and I’ll make sure everything is set up just as it should be. There are no Tregarricks left to dispute your claim.”

  “What are you talking about, Harker?”

  “Only that should anything happen to me, the money is yours. You may use it in any way you see fit, even if that means selling the estate. In fact I’d advise you to.”

  I stared at him, heart thumping. “And where exactly are you going to be while I’m off spending your money?”

  I could hear the angry edge to my voice, yet he let out a sound very much like a chuckle. It was dry as dust, but my anger burned hotter anyway.

  “I don’t mean to upset you,” he said. “I’m only talking of possibilities. Dangers seem to be hemming us in on all sides. I don’t want to leave anything unsaid.”

  “Well,” I said shortly, “it sounds more like leave-taking to me.” I eyed him more closely, and he had the decency to blush. “If you’ve been considering the possibility that I might live happier with you gone, I’ll remind you that just a few minutes ago you told me I wasn’t alone. That from now on we face things together.”

  I spun on my heel and took the potatoes from the stove. I spooned them into a bowl with the fish and whisked eggs, stirring so violently the whole thing turned to mash. Good thing I’d used a bottom crust, or it would’ve stuck like the devil. I poured in the filling and covered it with the other crust, used a knife to cut a few slits, and then slid it into the oven, closing the door with a loud clang of iron.

  When I turned, he was right behind me, and I let out a squeal. “You mustn’t do that when I come home with you,” I snapped. “You’ll stop my poor heart.”

  He raised his hand and lifted my chin. “Why are you crying, Mina?”

  “I’m not.” But I was. I felt the sting of salt on my cheeks. “Only I don’t like you talking about dying not an hour after we’ve gotten married.”

  “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me.”

  “Very.”

  His eyes made tiny movements as they searched mine. “You would miss me, then?”

  His thumb glided over my chin, and I felt like I’d had a bellyful of his strong wine—fiery, sharp, and heady. My knees wanted to fold, and maybe sensing this, his arms came around my waist. The fire in my belly spread to lower chambers.

  I don’t want to leave anything unsaid. “More than miss you,” I said, my voice softening. “It would leave a hole in me.”

  His arms tightened, pressing our bodies together, and I could feel his heavy heartbeat behind his ribs. I whispered, “Is this too much?”

  He groaned and closed his eyes, but his arms stayed where they were. “Too much and not enough.”

  Though it was selfish and reckless and wrong, I found myself asking, “Will you kiss me, Harker?”

  He opened his eyes. My gaze dropped to his lips—and I saw the gleaming tips of his wolf teeth. His thirst was roused. I felt the slight but comforting weight of the cross against my chest.

  I stood perfectly still as his hand came to my face. My heart raced as his thumb traced my bottom lip. My lips opened to his touch, and I gasped quietly as the tip of his thumb grazed my tongue.

  With another groan, one that sounded more like a growl, he let go of me and took a step back.

  “Forgive me,” I breathed, bracing myself with a hand against the edge of the worktable. “I shouldn’t have asked you.”

  His smile was grim. “You are a bride, and you have every right. Please understand how it pains me not to do as you wish. Especially when I wish it, too.”

  I shook as I turned and set the teakettle on the stove. I kept my back to him, trying to slow my heart and still the pulse of my desire. I heard him scoot out one of the dining chairs and sit. In the loud silence, I waited for the water to boil, and then I filled the teapot.

  Finally, sinking down across from him, I realized how weary I was. Between the moments of roused feeling, the fatigue of the long and eventful day set in. In truth, I was tired enough to forgo supper for bed. But I had held out hope Jack would come home. It wouldn’t be like him to spend a night out of doors, especially in October. I worried he wasn’t in his right mind.

  Guessing my thoughts, Harker said, “Why don’t we brave Jack’s anger and stay here tonight? I’ll watch for him while you sleep. I think for tonight, until I can make some changes at home, you’ll be more comfortable here anyway.”

  I met his gaze. “It’s kind of you, Harker. Though I fear he won’t come.”

  “Then we’ll ask after him when we go to the village tomorrow morning.”

  Nodding, I said, “We can try the tavern. That’s where he mostly is when he’s not at the mine.” Yet this time I doubted he was off drowning in a bottle. I’d never seen him so shaken. Not even when Da and Mum died.

  “His drinking is hard on you, isn’t it?”

  I took a breath, letting it out in a sigh. “It’s changed him. And I hardly see him now, since he really only comes home to eat and sleep. But I guess it helps him forget.”

  “It probably feels a little like he’s abandoned you.”

  “It feels a lot like that, usually. At the same time, I think about how maybe he could have had a different life if he hadn’t stayed to take care of me. I was lucky to have The Magpie. The work eased my loneliness and brought me some joy.” Shrugging, I said, “I shouldn’t talk so much of loneliness when you’ve been truly alone for most of your life.”

  He frowned. “I probably understand it better than most, and I do envy you your family. Especially Jack. I always wished for a sibling. I think it’s unnatural for any creature to be so alone. I suppose it’s not surprising that my forefathers all eventually married, even if it was the last thing they intended.”

  Something occurred to me then. “Have you wondered whether Goosevar might have been involved with that?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, just that as they got older and the bloodlust lessened, maybe Goosevar gave them visions, too. Even if they didn’t understand where they were coming from, the visions may have had an effect. We still don’t fully understand his connection to your family.”

  Not liking the way this felt knocking around in my heart, I tilted my teacup. A single damp leaf—looking like nothing more than that—had stuck to the bottom.

  “Mina.” Glancing up, I found his eyes fixed on me. “Goosevar may have manipulated us into marrying, but what I feel for you has nothing to do with him. What I feel for you has nothing to do with the bloodlust.”

  I stared, heart thumping wildly. I swallowed, though my mouth had gone dry. “But he chose me for you, Harker. You said it yourself—I was only the second woman to have set foot on the estate since you were a boy.”

  He grimaced. “I did say that. And it was cruel of me.”

  “I prefer your honesty,” I replied, though my voice broke. “Rank, education, upbringing . . . we are mismatched in every way. Goosevar pushed you to marry me for his own reasons. Then I pushed you to marry me for mine.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw, but I kept going. “If we somehow manage to free ourselves from him, I will hold you to no vow. I will always have a home here with Jack. He blusters, but I know he’d never turn me out.”

  There was a blur of movement, and a slight shiver in the air that I realized always came with Harker’s vampire quickness.

  I found myself suddenly up out of my chair and folded in his arms.

  Pleasures of the Flesh

  I gasped as he crushed me against him. And again as his hand came to my face and pulled my lips to his.

  I felt no needle pricks of pain, only the soft fullness of his dark mouth, like a ripe plum. Unlike when he’d fed on me, I wasn’t slipping deliciously into a dream. Awash in fiery new sensations, I clung to his coat lapels, worried that at any moment he would remember himself and this would end.

  Our mouths were greedy, slipping against each other and tasting, as if cleaning honey from a spoon. My body shuddered into his, and a sound came from him that was low and almost animal. Our mouths opened wider, tongues probing deeper.

  His hands glided down to my waist, fingers pressing into the flesh just above my hips. He tugged my body closer still, kindling flames low in my belly. He stepped me backward until my backside came to rest against the edge of the table.

  The kiss broke, leaving both of us gasping. His head dipped to my neck. Feeling the tip of his nose under my ear—just above where he’d bitten me—I froze.

  My tensing woke him, and with a last squeeze that let me feel how taut and hard his body had gone, he released me and stepped away. Drunk on his taste and smell and feel, I stumbled, and he muttered an oath as he reached out to steady me.

  Our eyes met. “You’re not wrong to question what I feel under these strange circumstances, Mina. But I need you to understand—I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. And even so, if my life were to end without me ever having more of you than that, I would die happy.”

  A nod was all I could manage. It struck me how right he had been. How difficult it would be for us to live together yet never truly be man and wife. I wouldn’t be lonely anymore, but how I would burn for him. I now began to see how that could be worse. And if his strength failed him, what then? Could mine hold?

  And this is Goosevar’s gamble.

  His fingers came to lightly brush my cheek. Then he let out a breath and moved to the window that faced onto the garden.

  The smell of browning crust filled the room, and I went to take out the pie. Still breathless, still holding on to the previous moment while I tried to carry on in the current one.

  The pie’s filling bubbled as I scooped servings into two dishes—though I’d yet to see Harker eat.

  Setting the food on the table, I said, “I’m not sure it will be edible. I’m not used to so much . . .”

  He turned. “Distraction.”

  My face went hot. “Aye.”

  He joined me at the table. I wondered what he’d do, and he did pick up a fork and take a bite. “It’s delicious, Mina.”

  He was being kind, but it was hot and filling, and I found I was famished. “Eat as much or as little as you like. I know our appetites . . . differ . . . and you won’t offend me.”

  But he ate it all, and once I’d had my fill, he stood and reached for my dish. “Why don’t you sleep now and let me clear up?”

  “Just leave it for the morning,” I protested, rising slowly. I knew he was used to doing for himself, but I didn’t yet feel comfortable with the lord of the manor washing my supper dishes.

  “It will give me something to do,” he insisted. “The pump is out front?”

  Now that my belly was full, my eyelids were drooping and my limbs felt heavy. So I gave in. “It is. There shouldn’t be anyone else about at this hour. Will you not sleep?”

  “I think it’s best if I don’t. I don’t need much anyway.”

  I couldn’t argue. If Jack did come home, there might be trouble. I felt a hard pang of regret over the fact we wouldn’t share a bed on our wedding night—or, most likely, ever.

  Reading me again, he came close and pressed his lips to my forehead. “Perhaps we’ll meet in your dreams,” he murmured.

  I made fists to stop myself from reaching my arms around him.

  Throat tightening, I said, “Good night, Harker.”

  I climbed the ladder to the loft with a heavy heart. I undressed and crawled into bed, so weary I thought I’d be asleep in moments. But the sounds of Harker setting the kitchen to rights kept me from drifting off. Once the task was finished, I lay awake wondering what he was doing. What he was thinking. If he was lonely. How it was that longing for someone could cause an actual pain in your chest.

  I flopped onto my side, sighing, and then I heard a sound I hadn’t in a very long time. Harker must have taken down Da’s fiddle. It hung on the wall next to the back door, as far away from the heat of the hearth as possible. The plucking noises of his tuning took me back to my childhood.

  I recalled Harker’s broken fiddle, and the teacher he’d fallen in love with. The teacher he may have killed. It came to rest in my chest, cold like a stone.

  Yet as the plucking stopped and Harker began to play, no cold feeling could hold. The melody washed over me like water in the bath. This music was like nothing we’d had at home. Da knew jigs and old ballads, and Mum had taught him sad Irish tunes. Remembering how her sweet voice had sometimes risen to the loft after Jack and I had gone to bed caused the tears to spill from my eyes.

  I had no category to place Harker’s song in. It wasn’t joyful, or sweet, or even sadly romantic. The long, slow, somber notes seemed to contain every sorrow from the history of the world—including mine and his.

  Yet somehow it brought me peace.

  When the gray light woke me, all in the cottage was quiet but for the wind moving in the thatch overhead.

  I got up and quickly dressed, braided and pinned my hair, then paused at the top of the ladder. All of yesterday felt like a dream. Would I find Jack below, instead of Harker, still asleep in our parents’ bed? Then my gaze fell on the russet gown, which I’d draped carefully over a chair.