Dark Prince - Feehan Christine - Страница 26

You take such unfair advantage.Her reply held a trace of amusement, was warm honey spilling over with love.

The car nosed out of the mist, came to a halt under a canopy of trees. Mikhail turned to face the outsiders, instinctively placing his body protectively between Raven and the three visitors. “Father Hummer, what a pleasant surprise.” Mikhail extended a welcoming hand to the priest, but there was a hard bite to his voice.

“Raven!” Shelly Evans pushed rudely past the priest and rushed toward Raven, although her eyes were devouring Mikhail.

Mikhail saw the ripple of dismay in Raven’s eyes before Shelly reached her, flinging her arms around Raven and hugging her tightly. Shelly had no idea Raven could read her envy and her sexual interest in Mikhail. He could feel Raven’s natural revulsion to physical touch, to the woman’s concern, to her fantasies about Mikhail, but Raven managed a smile and returned the hug.

“What’s this all about? Is something wrong?” Raven asked softly, gently disentangling herself from the taller woman.

“Well, my dear,” Margaret Summers said firmly, glaring at Mikhail and reaching for Raven. “We insisted Father Hummer bring us to check on you.”

The moment the thin, wrinkled hand touched her arm, Raven recognized the push at her mind. At the same time her stomach heaved, rolled, and shards of glass pierced her skull, fragmenting her mind. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She had touched death. She drew away instantly, wiping her palm on her thigh.

Mikhail!She focused on him entirely. I’m sick.

“Mrs. Galvenstein did not assure you Raven was safe in my care?” Mikhail gently but firmly inserted his body between Raven and the older woman. He had felt the older woman’s clumsy attempt at a probe when she brushed by him. His teeth gleamed whitely. “Please enter my home and make yourselves comfortable. I believe it is growing rather cold out.”

Margaret Summers was twisting this way and that, observing the table with two glasses and plates, the crumbs of pastry on two plates. Her eyes pinned Raven, as if trying to see through the material of her dress to her neck.

Mikhail’s arm curved around Raven’s shoulder, swept her into the healing shelter of his body. He hid his smile as he watched Mrs. Summers hold Shelly back until Father Hummer preceded them into Mikhail’s house. They were so predictable. He bent his head. Are you all right?

I’m going to throw up. The apple juice.She looked up at him accusingly.

Let me help you. They will not know.He turned, blocking her smaller frame with his large one. He spoke a soft command, kissed her gently. Better?

She touched his jaw, her fingers conveying what she felt. Thanks.They turned together to face their visitors.

Margaret and Shelly were staring in awe at Mikhail’s home. He had money, and the interior of his home reeked of it: marble and hardwood; soft, warm colors; artwork and antiques. It was obvious Margaret was both surprised and impressed.

Father Hummer seated himself comfortably in his favorite armchair. “I believe we interrupted something important.” He looked pleased with himself and secretly amused, his faded eyes twinkling every time they met the blackness of Mikhail’s fathomless gaze.

“Raven has consented to become my wife.” Mikhail brought her fingers to the warmth of his mouth. “I did not have enough time to give her the ring. You drove up before I could put it on her finger.”

Margaret touched the well-worn Bible sitting on the table. “How very romantic, Raven. Do you plan on being married in the Church?”

“Of course the child must be married in the Church. Mikhail is strong in his beliefs and would consider nothing less,” Father Hummer said in a mild rebuke.

Raven kept her hand in Mikhail’s as they curled up together on the sofa. Margaret’s faded eyes were as sharp as talons. “Why have you been hiding out, my dear?” Her gaze was darting everywhere, trying to ferret out secrets.

Mikhail stirred, leaned back lazily. “You could hardly call it hiding out. We phoned Mrs. Galvenstein, your landlady, and let her know Raven was staying with me. Surely she told you.”

“The last I heard of Raven, she had gone into the wilds to meet you for a picnic,” Margaret declared. “I knew she was ill and I was worried, so I found out your name and asked the priest to escort us here.” Her sharp gaze rested on a silver antique mirror.

“I’m sorry I caused you distress, Mrs. Summers,” Raven said sweetly. “I’ve had a terrible case of the flu. If I had known anyone would be worried, I would have called.” She said it pointedly.

“I wanted to see you for myself.” Margaret pursed her lips together stubbornly. “We’re both Americans, and I feel responsible for you.”

“I am grateful for your concern. Raven is the light of my life.” Mikhail leaned forward with his predator’s smile. “I am Mikhail Dubrinsky. I do not believe we have been formally introduced.”

Margaret hesitated; then, with a lift of her chin, she placed her hand in his and muttered her name. Mikhail oozed goodwill and love spiced mischievously with a healthy dose of lust for Raven.

Shelly eagerly introduced herself. “Mr. Dubrinsky?”

“Mikhail, please.” His charm was so intense, Shelly nearly fell off her chair.

She wiggled a lot and crossed her legs to give him a better view. “Mikhail, then.” Shelly flashed a coquettish smile. “Father Hummer tells us you are somewhat of a historian and would know all the folklore in and around the country. I’m doing a paper on folklore. Specifically, if there is any truth to the local legends. Would you know anything about vampires?”

Raven blinked, tried not to burst out laughing. Shelly was definitely in earnest, and she had fallen for Mikhail’s magnetism. She would be very embarrassed if Raven laughed. She concentrated on Mikhail’s thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. It helped her feel stronger.

“Vampires.” Mikhail repeated the term matter-of-factly. “Of course the most popular area for vampires is in Transylvania, but we have our own stories. All through the Carpathian Mountains there are extraordinary tales. There is a tour, following Jonathan Harker’s route to Transylvania. I am sure you would find it most enjoyable.”

Margaret leaned forward. “Do you believe there is truth to the stories?”

“Mrs. Summers!” Raven showed her shock. “You don’t, do you?” Margaret’s face closed down, her lips pursed again belligerently.

“I always have believed there is a grain of truth in nearly every story handed down through the ages. Perhaps that is what Mrs. Summers believes,” Mikhail said gently.

Margaret nodded her head, relaxed visibly, and bestowed a benevolent smile on Mikhail. “I’m so glad we agree, Mr. Dubrinsky. A man in your position should certainly be a man with an open mind. How could so many people over hundreds of years tell such similar stories without some truth to the legend?”

“A living corpse?” Raven’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know about the Middle Ages, but I’d notice if dead people started walking around dragging off children.”

“There is that,” Mikhail agreed. “We haven’t had a large number of unexplained deaths that I’m aware of in the last few years.”

“But some of the locals tell stories of some pretty strange things.” Shelly was loath to give up her ideas.

“Of course they do.” Mikhail grinned engagingly. “It is so much better for business. A few years ago... when was it, Father? You remember when Swaney wanted to drum up the tourist trade and he poked himself in the neck with a couple of knitting needles and had the newspaper take pictures. He hung a wreath of garlic around his neck and walked about town, claiming the garlic made him sick.”

“How do you know it wasn’t real?” Margaret demanded.

“The pinpricks became infected. It turned out he was allergic to the garlic and he had no option but to confess.” Mikhail grinned mischievously at the two women. “Father Hummer made him do penance. Swaney said the rosary thirty-seven times in a row.”