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  She gasped, startled, when the cat jumped up on the table. “Here, now,” Elena said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “Get down.”

  The cat made no move to leave. Instead, it began washing its face.

  “Impudent beast,” she muttered. “Why aren’t you out catching mice and rats or something?”

  The cat didn’t answer, of course, but stared at her through unblinking yellow eyes. And then, with a flick of its tail, it jumped lightly to the floor and left the room.

  Elena was still sitting at the table, goblet in hand, trying to marshal her thoughts, when she heard a noise behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, thinking perhaps Drake had entered the room. Seeing no one in the doorway, she glanced down, and let out a shriek. A dead rat lay on the floor. Behind it, the cat sat watching her.

  Startled, Elena dropped the goblet. It hit the floor with a loud crash.

  Tail twitching, the cat stared up at her, a feline grin on its face.

  “Get out of here!” Elena exclaimed. “And take that disgusting thing with you.”

  The cat looked at her for a moment, then snatched the rat up by its tail and padded out of the hall.

  With a huff of annoyance, Elena picked the goblet up off the floor and set it on the table. There was something definitely strange about that cat.

  She sat there a moment; then, driven by boredom and a growing sense of curiosity, she decided to explore the rest of the castle.

  The kitchen was one flight down. Glancing around, she noted floor-to-ceiling cupboards along the back wall. A fireplace with a spit and an old-fashioned oven took up most of another wall. A large square table hewn of oak stood in the middle of the room. An open door led to a storeroom that held a number of bins and baskets, all of which were empty.

  Leaving the kitchen, she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Walking down the corridor, she saw that there were other, smaller bedrooms besides the chamber she had slept in. For the lord of the keep’s children, she supposed. There was no furniture in any of these rooms, no rugs on the floors, no pictures or tapestries on the walls. A window in the last room on the left provided an excellent view of the forest that stretched away behind the castle. A thin ribbon of blue was visible between a copse of trees. A river, perhaps ? Or a lake.

  Moving down the hall to the room she had slept in, Elena peered out one of the tall, leaded windows. From here, she could see the whole town spread far below. And there, on the narrow path leading up to the castle, she saw two men in uniform, men who worked for her uncle. A sudden shiver ran down her spine and she knew, knew without doubt, that they were coming here to look for her.

  She needed a place to hide, but where?

  Frantic, she gazed around the room. Useless to hide in the armoire or in the big trunk at the foot of the bed. Searchers were sure to look inside. The other bedrooms were empty. Nowhere to hide there.

  She was fighting back tears of panic when Drake stepped into the room. “What is it that distresses you?” He glanced around, wondering if a spider or some other unwelcome creature had frightened her. But he saw no cause for alarm.

  “My uncle!” She waved a hand toward the window. “He’s sending his men up here to look for me. I just know it.”

  Drake crossed to the window. He stood there a moment, looking down, then turned to face her. “Come with me.”

  Heart pounding, Elena followed him down the stairs to the main floor. Was he going to turn her over to her uncle?

  “I don’t want to go back home,” she said, hurrying to catch up with him. “Please, don’t send me. . . .”

  He drew back a corner of the tapestry that covered a portion of the west wall. “In here,” he said.

  Elena stared at the whitewashed wall. In where?

  His hand moved over the rough stone. With a low rumble, a narrow opening appeared as if by magic.

  Elena shook her head as she peered into the dark abyss. Surely he didn’t expect her to go in there. Did he?

  “Your uncle’s men are here,” Drake said.

  The words had scarcely left his mouth when she heard the clang of a bell announcing someone was at the door.

  Before she could protest, Drake gave her a push. Unable to recover her balance, Elena stumbled inside. She choked back a cry when the opening closed behind her, leaving her in total darkness. She told herself there was nothing to be afraid of. It would only be for a moment. Drake would send her uncle’s men away and then he would come for her.

  But the moments became minutes. How long was he going to leave her in there? What if he wasn’t going to let her out again?

  She told herself she was worrying needlessly. He was hiding her to protect her from her uncle.

  She sat down on the floor, her knees drawn to her chest. “Nothing to fear,” she murmured, hoping to reassure herself. “Nothing to fear.”

  Panic quickly overcame her determination to stay calm. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Was the room getting smaller? Darker? She had to get out of here. She scrambled to her feet. Where was the door? She had to find the door. In the pitch blackness, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

  She had to find a way out. With her arms outstretched, she moved forward until she found a wall, then inched along it, searching for the entrance.

  A grunt of pain rose in her throat when she bumped into something. She ran her hands over the object. It was long and made of wood. A box of some kind. Was she in a storeroom? Her questing fingers continued their exploration and she found a seam in the wood. Lifting the lid, she paused a moment, then reached inside the box. An oblong box lined with satin.

  A chill ran down her spine with the realization that it was an empty coffin.

  Was it for her? Were there other coffins in there? Final resting places for naïve women who had wandered into Wolfram Castle, never to be seen or heard from again?

  A sob rose in her throat as the door opened and Drake stepped into the room.

  At first, Drake thought it was being in the dark for so long that had frightened Elena, and then he realized she was standing beside the open casket, a look of stark horror frozen on her face.

  Rushing forward, he swept her into his arms, then carried her out of the room, pausing just long enough to activate the mechanism that closed the door. He elbowed past the tapestry, then carried her to the sofa in front of the hearth. When he was sure she was comfortable, he lit the fire.

  “Elena. Elena!” He stroked her hair, hoping to calm her. “You are safe now.”

  She stared up at him, wide-eyed and fearful. “Is it . . . is it . . . for me?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  “Then . . . why?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, wondering how to explain.

  When he didn’t immediately reply, her brow furrowed. “You’re not sick, are you?”

  He laughed softly as he sat down beside her. “No, I am not sick.”

  “Then why . . . ?”

  “It has been in there for centuries. Are you not curious about what those men wanted?”

  “I know what they wanted.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Me.”

  Drake nodded.

  “You’re not going to take me back to him, are you?” she asked anxiously.

  “No.”

  She knew a quick surge of relief, but it only lasted a moment. What was she going to do? She couldn’t stay here indefinitely. To do so would mean going outside only after dark, when no one could see her, never walking along the river, never attending church again, or visiting with her friends. If she stayed, she would be no more than a prisoner in this castle. But at least she would be safe from her uncle.

  And for now, that was reason enough to stay.

  Chapter 4

  “Well?” Tavian Dinescu glared at the two men standing on the other side of the desk. “Speak up!”

  “She wasn’t there,” Vasili said, scuffling his feet.

  “But it wasn’t empty,” Ivan added.


  “What do you mean?” Dinescu demanded.

  “There was a man,” Ivan said. “Big fella. Scar down one side of his neck. Looked dangerous, if you ask me.”

  Dinescu frowned. He’d been unaware that anyone was currently living in the castle. “Who was it?”

  “He didn’t give his name,” Vasili replied. “And I didn’t ask.”

  Dinescu looked at Ivan. “What about you?”

  Ivan shook his head. “Never seen him before. Hope I never see him again. There was something about him . . . something kind of spooky.”

  Dinescu looked at him disdainfully. “Spooky?”

  Ivan shrugged.

  Dinescu made a dismissive gesture with his hand. Had one of the heirs come to claim the place? It had been years since anyone had occupied the castle on the hill. How long had the fellow been there? No one had reported seeing anyone new in town. Perhaps he would look into it. As chief of police, he had every right to make sure that the person occupying Wolfram Castle had a right to be there. But he would look into that later. Right now, his main concern was finding his niece.

  He glanced at Ivan and Vasili. “That’ll be all.”

  Frowning, Dinescu watched the two men shuffle out of his office. Where the hell was Elena? His men had searched the entire town. He, himself, had questioned every man, woman, and child, but to no avail. No one had seen her.

  He slammed his hand on the edge of the desk, an oath rising to his lips. Dammit. She couldn’t have just vanished into thin air.

  So, she had run away, in which case someone must have helped her, but who? Everyone else in the village was accounted for. Try as he might, he couldn’t believe she had found the courage to run off on her own, yet there was no other answer. Where would she go? As far as he could tell, she hadn’t taken anything with her, so she couldn’t have gone far. He would find her, and when he did, he would make her pay.

  Scowling, he paced back and forth, his anger growing. He had lusted after the girl since she was thirteen years old, patiently biding his time while he waited for her to grow up. He had discouraged the young men who had wanted to take her out. He frowned. Had she been meeting one of them behind his back? Someone from another town, perhaps? No, that was impossible.

  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 fo
r 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.