Bound by Night

Where had she gone?

He paused to stare out the front window. It had been a hard year for the townspeople. Tourism had been down due to a bad turn in the economy. Perhaps the offer of a sizable reward for information regarding her whereabouts would yield results.

Chapter 5

For Elena, the next few weeks passed like something in a fairy tale. For a girl who didn’t believe in ghosts, goblins, or magic, she was beginning to think that Wolfram Castle was under some sort of enchantment. Or that she was.

Drake was definitely magical. Whenever he was near, she had to fight the urge to touch him, to go to him. When they were apart, she yearned for the sound of his voice. At night, he haunted her dreams. She told herself it was merely infatuation, that it would pass, that what she felt was gratitude because he was providing her with food and shelter.

The cat, which she had taken to calling Smoke, kept her company during the day. Elena had no idea where the mysterious Mr. Drake spent his days and when she asked, he merely shrugged and told her, firmly but politely, that it was none of her business.

With no one else to talk to, Elena often chatted with the cat. Strange as it seemed, there were times when she was absolutely certain that the creature understood every word she said. Odder still was the fact that the silly feline seemed to appear whenever she was feeling lonely. Even though she didn’t like cats, she was grateful to have another living, breathing creature to keep her company in the drafty old castle.

When she complained to Drake that she needed something to do to occupy her time, he brought her a dozen of the latest paperback novels, a number of crossword puzzle books, drawing paper, pens, crayons, and markers.

When she complained she was growing tired of wine, he bought an ice chest and kept it stocked with cans of soda, iced tea, and lemonade, as well as fruit and milk. He also stocked the kitchen with snacks and other, nonperishable items.

Meals continued to appear morning and evening. When she asked where they came from, he told her he had an arrangement with one of the women in town.

Elena had never cared for cooking, but she loved baking and she spent a part of every day in the kitchen, learning how to bake in the ancient oven. Her first few endeavors ended up in the garbage, but eventually she learned to make a decent pie, and then turned her hand to cakes and cookies. And always, the ubiquitous cat looked on, a bored expression on its face.

Drake refused to eat anything she made, declaring that he preferred to take his meals in private, and that he had no taste for sweets.

He was gone every day and most of the nights, and felt no need to explain where he went. At first, being alone didn’t bother her. She was an only child; back home in Colorado she had always been good at entertaining herself. But as the days passed, Elena began to long for more than just a cat for companionship. She wanted someone who would do more than just listen, someone with whom she could share thoughts and hopes and dreams. And so it was that she decided to stay up one night and wait for Drake’s return.

She was staring into the flames in the hearth, the book in her lap forgotten, when Drake suddenly appeared beside the sofa.

“I didn’t hear you come in!” she exclaimed, one hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart.

“I thought you would be in bed.” He removed his long black cloak and tossed it over the back of the sofa.

She stared up at him, struck anew by how tall and broad-shouldered he was. As usual, he wore black—boots, shirt, and pants. But it was his face that held her attention. He was incredibly beautiful for a man, with finely shaped lips, straight black brows, sculpted cheekbones. And those incredibly blue eyes. Looking at him made her want to touch him, to trace the curve of his lips, to sift her hand through his thick black hair, to explore the muscles flexing beneath his shirt.

He was looking at her oddly, one brow raised as if in amusement.

Elena curled her hands into fists and buried them in the folds of her skirt, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at her wayward thoughts. Beyond some exploratory kissing and necking in high school, she had never been intimate with a man, partly because her uncle had refused to let her date, and partly because she had seen what happened to one of her friends who ended up sixteen and pregnant. Elena had never wanted to have to decide whether to keep a baby born out of wedlock and try to raise it on her own, or to give it away and never see it again. Her friend Dorina had given her baby away and regretted it every day of her life.

Drake dropped onto the sofa across from her. Stretching out his long legs, he regarded her over his steepled fingers. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I was bored.” Her gaze slid away from his. “And lonely.”

Drake grunted softly. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be lonely. “Would you care to go for a walk?”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course.”

She bounded to her feet, her heart racing with anticipation as she ran upstairs to change her shoes.

He was waiting for her by the front door when she returned. He opened it with a flourish and bowed her through.

Outside, she hesitated, not sure which way to go.

Drake made the decision for her. “This way.”

He turned down a narrow, tree-lined path that led away from the castle toward the distant hills. It was a beautiful night. A new moon hung low in the sky. Stars glittered like millions of sparkling diamonds flung across the midnight sky by a careless hand. A faint breeze rustled the leaves of the oaks and chestnuts.

He was ever aware of the woman walking silently beside him, just as he was cognizant of her growing desire and the confusion it caused her. Young and untouched, she wasn’t sure what to make of her feelings for him.

A shift in the wind carried the faint fragrance of her perfume. During the nights she had been with him, he had memorized the silky texture of her inky black hair, the softness of her petal pink lips, the delicate curve of her throat. But it was the scent of her blood that sang to him, a dulcet song that called to him like nothing else he had ever known. The taste of it lingered on his tongue long after he had sipped the crimson nectar that flowed warm and sweet through her veins.

He had tasted her several times in the nights she had been with him. Never more than a few sips at a time, to be sure, but a few sips of her blood was more satisfying than a pint of any other. With luck, he could keep her with him indefinitely.

He came to a halt when he reached the meadow nestled between a pair of low hills. The lake, located in the middle of the grassy expanse, gleamed like a sorcerer’s dark glass in the moonlight.

“Oh!” Elena breathed, turning a slow circle. “It’s lovely!”

Drake nodded.

“Does all this belong to you?”

“Indeed.”

“Can we go down by the water?”

“If you wish.”

With a smile, she hurried toward the lake, then paused as an owl swooped down out of the sky, coming to rest on a tree branch. In the light of the moon, she saw that it was a barn owl. They were beautiful birds, with their white, heart-shaped faces and golden buff-colored feathers. She took a step toward it, sighed with disappointment as it took wing, soaring effortlessly out of sight.

Continuing on, she made her way to the lake where a myriad of ferns and rushes grew along the shore. Night birds called to each other across the lake’s expanse.

“It’s so beautiful,” Elena murmured. But it was more than beautiful. It was an enchanted place, filled with wonder. A magical place where anything might happen, where dreams might come true. Had she been a princess in a fairy tale, she would have met her handsome prince here, by the lake, and he would have carried her away to his castle.

She glanced quickly at Drake. He had a castle. Was he a prince in disguise? The thought made her smile.

Pausing at the lake’s edge, she sank down on her knees and leaned forward, her fingers trailing lightly back and forth in the water, which felt refreshingly cool.

She was thinking how daring it would be to shed her clothes and underwear and slip into the cool, clear water, when Drake knelt beside her. The idea of swimming in the nude, with Drake looking on, brought a flood of heat to her cheeks.

“Shall we go for a swim?” he asked.

She looked at him sharply. Was he reading her mind? The thought of swimming while Drake looked on had been outrageous enough. But to go skinny-dipping with him . . . did she have the nerve?

“Together?” It was all she could do to force the word past her lips.

“Why not? It is dark and we are alone.”

“But . . .” She felt her cheeks grow even hotter, if that was possible. All her life, she had been called a prude. Chicken. Scaredy cat. The most daring thing she could remember doing was sneaking out of the house and going to a movie with Jenica. Elena had thought it the height of daring to be out at night without her uncle.

Drake was watching her, one dark brow arched as he waited for her answer. Elena was about to say no when some rebellious part of her asked why she was hesitating. She was a big girl now. Besides, no one would ever know.

He grinned at her, a wicked gleam in his deep blue eyes. “I know you want to.”

Goaded into action, she gathered her courage and gained her feet. Her courage wavered when she began to undress, and she turned her back to him.

Drake grinned as he pulled off his boots, then stood and shrugged out of his shirt.

Elena was careful to keep her gaze averted as he undressed, yet the same naughty imp that had urged her to agree to swim with Drake had her continually darting glances at him. His back and shoulders were broad and well muscled, his skin smooth and pale in the moonlight. His arms were long, corded with muscle that rippled as he moved.

When he unfastened his trousers, she dashed into the lake, keeping her back to the shore.

The water was cool but not cold and she struck out for the other side of the lake, reveling in the touch of the water on her bare flesh. She couldn’t believe how different it was, how exhilarating it was, to swim in the nude.

She was halfway to the opposite bank when Drake swam up behind her. How had he caught her so quickly? She slid a glance in his direction, felt her insides quiver at the brush of his naked thigh against her own. A rush of heat suffused her, and with it a sudden need to touch him, to run her hands over his broad shoulders, to sift her fingers through his long black hair, to press her mouth to his. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">