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It was the cold water that finally drove them out of the shower and down the stairs. Roshan lit a fire in the hearth, then drew her down on the rug, his arm around her shoulders.
Brenna leaned against him, sleepy-eyed and content as she watched the flames. No doubt Granny O'Connell would be turning in her grave if she could see her granddaughter now, sitting naked on the floor in the arms of a vampire, her virginity well and truly lost.
Glancing up, she met Roshan's gaze. "Are you going to marry me?" She hadn't meant to ask the question but, once spoken, there was no taking it back.
"Is that what you want, Brenna?"
"Only if you do."
"And if I said no?"
Her heart seemed to drop to the floor. If he didn't want to marry her, what then? Could she stay here, in his house, as his mistress? Would it be so different from what she was doing now? She knew it would be, though she was reluctant to admit it. It was one thing to succumb to a night of passion in a man's arms, quite another to make a conscious decision to live with him without benefit of marriage even though, in this time and place, no one seemed to think there was anything wrong with it.
"You said you loved me," she reminded him, her voice barely audible.
"I do."
"But you do not wish to marry me?"
"I never thought to marry again," he replied slowly. "I never thought any woman would want me, or be able to accept me as I am now." He gazed deep into her eyes. "Have you thought it through, Brenna? Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Only if you do," she said again.
"I would be honored to have you as my wife," he said quietly. "I will love you as long as you live."
As long as she lived. The words hit her like a blast of cold air. In time, she would grow old and feeble. Her skin would wrinkle, her hair would turn gray, her hearing and eyesight would grow dim. But time had no claim on Roshan. In twenty years or a hundred, he would be as he was now— strong and healthy and vigorous, a man forever in his prime.
Roshan watched the play of emotions on her face, the doubts that rose in her eyes. He didn't have to use his preternatural senses to know what she was thinking. A moment later, her words confirmed his suspicions.
"Will you still love me when I am no longer young?" she asked, her gaze searching his. "How will you feel when I am old and you are not? When that time comes, will you leave me for someone else? Someone younger?"
"I will never leave you, Brenna, I swear it. Young or old, I will love you as much as I do tonight."
Easy words for him to say, she thought. How would she feel when her youth was behind her? Would she resent all that she had given up to spend her life with him? Would she look back and be sorry that she had given up the chance to be a mother? Would her arms forever ache for the children and grandchildren she had never had? When she was an old woman and the fires of youth and passion no longer burned within her, would she grieve for the life she had given up, for the posterity that had never been born? Would she hate him then because he did not age? Would her hatred destroy the love she felt for him now?
You do not have to grow old. The seductive words crawled through her mind. You have only to become as he is. If she became a vampire, she would stay as she was. They could be together forever. But did she want to be a vampire? To exist only at night, to survive on the blood of others?
Unbidden, Anthony Loken came to mind. Perhaps there was another way…
"Brenna?"
"Yes, Roshan DeLongpre, I will marry you."
"Name the day, my sweet."
"Can we have a big wedding?"
"As big as you wish, though I fear the guests will be few."
She had not considered that. Strange, she hadn't really missed having friends in this place, she thought. And then she smiled. What need had she for friends when she had Roshan? He filled her every thought, waking or sleeping.
"I have no need for guests as long as you are there."
"Only name the day and the place."
"Oh!" The smile faded from her face and she bit down on her lower lip.
"What is it? Have you changed your mind already?"
"No, but… that is… I should like to be married in a church and… can you… you won't…?"
"Go up in a puff of smoke? " he asked with a wry grin.
She nodded, a faint blush pinking her cheeks.
"A church will be fine," he assured her. "You find yourself a pretty dress and a church you like and leave everything else to me."
Lying in bed later that night, though she supposed it was actually morning, since the sky was turning light, Brenna thought about all that had happened during the night past. After talking about the wedding, they had made love again, and then Roshan had carried her upstairs. They had taken a quick shower and then Roshan had put her to bed, tucking her in as though she were a child instead of a woman grown. Whispering that he loved her, he had kissed her good night, then left the room.
Brenna ran her fingertips over her lips, remembering the sweetness of his kiss, the light in his eyes when he told her he loved her. It all seemed unreal somehow. Everything that had happened since the night she first saw him seemed impossible, like something out of a dream. How could she be here, in this place, in this time? If not for Roshan, she would have died at the stake, dead these past three hundred and thirteen years. Instead, she was living in a house unlike anything she had ever known, and she was going to marry a vampire. Strange, how none of what she had believed about vampires seemed to be true where Roshan was concerned. He wasn't a monster with no conscience who killed indiscriminately. He wasn't a horrible creature with foul breath and a misshapen body. Quite the contrary. He was tall and handsome, more handsome than any man she had ever met.
And he loved her.
The knowledge filled her with an inner warmth that made her heart glow and brought a smile to her lips.
He loved her.
It was her last thought before sleep carried her away, and her first thought when she woke seven hours later.
Flinging the covers aside, she slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, then dressed quickly in a pair of jeans, a peacock blue sweater, and a pair of boots.
Going downstairs, she ate a quick breakfast. Grabbing Roshan's car keys and the money he had left for her, she hurried out of the house and headed for the mall. She was going to be a bride, and a bride needed a dress.
She'd had no idea that finding a dress would be so time consuming, or so much fun. She tried on dozens of gowns, surprised and pleased by the fashions of the day. There were racks and racks of dresses, long white gowns of satin and silk and taffeta. Some were quite daring. Cut low, they bared her arms and her shoulders and an expanse of cle**age that, in her time, would have-been considered scandalous. Others, with modest necklines and long sleeves, were so demure that even Granny O'Connell would have approved. Brenna tried them all on, long and short, modern and old-fashioned, finally settling on a silk gown with a beaded bodice, long sleeves, and a slim skirt with a short train.
