Blood Price

her shadow against the tapestries on the wall. Angel or demon, Henry didn't really care. He was hers and if that damned his soul to hell so be it.

    He opened his arms in answer.

    As she buried herself in his embrace, he pressed his lips against the scented ebony of her hair and whispered, "Why have you never fed from me?"

    "But I have. I do."

    He frowned. "I've never borne your mark upon my throat. . . ."

    "Throats are too public." He could feel her smile against his chest. "And your throat is not the only part of your body I have put my mouth against."

    Even as he reddened, she slid down to prove her point and somehow, knowing that she fed as she pleasured him lifted him to such heights that he thought he could not bear the ecstasy. Hell would be worth it.

    "This was your idea, wasn't it?" The Duke of Norfolk inclined his head. His eyes were sunk in shadow and the deep lines that bracketed his mouth had not been there a month before. "Yes,"
    he admitted heavily, "but it is for your own good, Henry."

    "My own good?" Henry gave a bitter bark of laughter. "For your good more like. It does move you that much closer to the throne." He saw the older man wince and was glad. He didn't really believe Norfolk used him to get closer to the throne; the duke had proven his friendship any number of times, but Henry had just come from a painful interview with his father and he wanted to lash out.

    "You will wed Mary, Norfolk's daughter, before the end of this month. You will spend Christmas with the Court and then you will retire to your estates at Richmond and you will never go to Sheriffhuton again.

    Norfolk sighed and laid a weary hand on Henry's shoulder. His own interview with the young duke's father had been anything but pleasant. "What he does not know, he suspects; I offered this as your only way out."

    Henry shook the hand free. Never to go to Sheriffhuton again. Never to see her again. Never to hear her laugh or feel her touch. Never to touch her in return. He clenched his teeth on the howl that threatened to break free. "You don't understand," he growled out instead, and strode off down the corridor before the tears he could feel building shamed him.

    "Christina!" He ran forward, threw himself to his knees, and buried his head in her lap. For a time, the world became the touch of her hands and the sound of her voice. When at last he had the strength to pull away, it was only far enough to see her face. "What are you doing here?
    Father and Norfolk, at least, suspect and if they find you. . . ."

    She stroked cool fingers across his brow. "They won't find me. I have a safe haven for the daylight hours and we will not have so many nights together that they will discover us." She paused and cupped his cheek in her palm. "I am going away, but I could not leave without saying good-bye."

    "Going away?" Henry repeated stupidly.

    She nodded, her unbound hair falling forward. "It has become too dangerous for me in England."

    "But where. . . ."

    "France, I think. For now."

    He caught up her hands in both of his. "Take me with you. I cannot live without you."

    A wry smile curved her lips. "You cannot exactly live with me," she reminded him.

    "Live, die, unlive, undie." He leapt to his feet and threw his arms wide. "I don't care as long as I'm with you."

    "You're very young."

    The words lacked conviction and he could see the indecision on her face. She wanted him!
    Oh, blessed Jesus and all the saints, she wanted him. "How old were you when you died?" he demanded.

    She bit her lip. "Seventeen."

    "I shall be seventeen in two months." He threw himself back on his knees. "Can't you wait that long?"

    "Two months. . . ."

    "Just two." He couldn't keep the triumph from his voice. "Then you will have me for all eternity."

    She laughed then and pulled him to her breast. "You think highly of yourself, milord."

    "I do," he agreed, his voice a little muffled.

    "If your lady wife should come in. . . ."

    "Mary? She has rooms of her own and is happy to stay in them." Still on his knees, he pulled her to the bed.

    Two months later, she began to feed nightly, taking as much as he could bear each night.

    Norfolk posted guards on his room. Henry ordered them away, for the first time in his life his father's son.

    Two months after that, while revered doctors scratched their heads and wondered at his failing, while Norfolk tore the neighborhood apart in a fruitless search, she pulled him to her breast again and he