Bound by Night (Page 10)

Lifting one brow, he muttered, “Somehow I doubt that.”

At his words, she bowed her head, her shoulders slumped in defeat. It had been a stupid idea. “If you don’t want to marry me, maybe you could lend me some money so I can take a bus to Brasov and find a job. I’ll pay you back, somehow, I promise.”

“Elena?”

She didn’t answer, refused to meet his gaze. He was a grown man, older than she was, refined, educated. Why would he want a wife in name only when he could probably have any woman he wanted?

“Elena, look at me.”

“No.” She was too embarrassed to face him.

“Elena, I accept your proposal of marriage.”

She lifted her head. “Do you mean it?”

“Indeed, I do.”

For a moment, she could only stare at him. She hadn’t really expected him to agree and now that he had, she wasn’t sure how to respond. “I promise to do my best to keep your house clean, and to make you happy, except for . . .” Her voice trailed off as her gaze slid away from his.

“Never fear. I promise not to make any husbandly demands upon you unless you ask me to.”

“Thank you, Drake.”

“How soon do you wish to wed?”

“Oh, there’s no rush,” she said. “We can have a long engagement.” The longer, the better, she thought. After all, an engagement was almost as good as a marriage for keeping her uncle at bay.

“I think not.”

“What’s the hurry?”

“I have reasons of my own. Is tomorrow night too soon?”

She blinked up at him. “Tomorrow night?”

It was easy to see he had taken her by surprise. “Tomorrow night,” Drake said, lightly kissing her on both cheeks. “Be ready at sundown.”

Elena stared at him, unable to shake the feeling that he had somehow manipulated her into doing exactly what he wanted.

Chapter 6

Elena woke early after a restless night. Her dreams had been fitful, filled with shadowed images of Drake pursuing her through a long, twisting maze that had no end.

She spent a few minutes wondering what it meant, if it meant anything at all, then shrugged it off. Probably just a case of prewedding jitters manifesting themselves in a nightmare.

Sitting up, she stretched her arms over her head. It was her wedding day. Last night, marrying Drake had seemed like the answer to all her problems; now, she wasn’t so sure. He was devastatingly handsome and physically appealing, and there was no denying that she was attracted to him but—she didn’t really know anything about him. He was little more than a handsome stranger. And he didn’t know any more about her than she knew about him. Why would he agree to marry a woman he had known such a short time? What did he hope to gain?

Shaking off her doubts, she went downstairs for something to eat. As usual, a tray awaited her. While drinking a glass of orange juice, a new thought occurred to her. She had nothing suitable to wear to a wedding. True, Drake had gifted her with a number of dresses, but even though they were silk, they weren’t really elegant enough for a wedding. And she didn’t have any heels. Or a veil. Or flowers.

Of course, none of those things were necessary. All that was needed for a wedding was a bride, a groom, and a priest.

And then she frowned. She had no idea where the ceremony would take place, no idea what her future husband’s religion might be. For all she knew, he might not practice any religion at all. Her uncle professed to being Catholic, but in all the years she had lived with him, he had never accompanied the family to church, never attended Mass, not even at Christmas.

Elena glanced down as the cat rubbed against her ankles. “Where did you come from?” she asked, and received a loud “meow” in reply.

“I guess it’s too late to worry about where we’re getting married,” Elena mused as she lifted the cat onto her lap and idly scratched its ears. “I can either marry my uncle, marry Drake, or run away again, although I don’t know where I’d go from here. Do you?”

Smoke stared at her through unblinking yellow eyes.

“I just hope I’m not making a horrible mistake.”

A low rumble rose in the cat’s throat.

“I’ve never done anything so impulsive and yet, it feels right, somehow.” She glanced around the hall. “Maybe there really is some kind of enchantment on this place. Oh, I know, that sounds silly, and yet, ever since I walked through the door that first night, I’ve felt like I belong here, you know? It’s nonsense, of course. I don’t believe in Fate.”

The cat had no opinion on the subject. Instead, he rubbed his head against her breast.

She stroked the cat’s fur for several minutes, her thoughts turned inward. “One good thing, when I’m a married woman, I won’t have to stay hidden away in this old castle during the day. I’ll be Mrs. Drake. . . .”

She shook her head ruefully. “I don’t even know his last name. But he’s been kind to me, you know. I told him I wanted a marriage in name only, because, after all, I don’t really know him, but—there’s no denying he’s very sexy, and I can’t help wondering what it would be like to taste more than his kisses.”

The cat looked up at her, its golden yellow eyes bright. If it hadn’t been impossible, she would have sworn the animal was smiling at her. Or maybe laughing.

Elena was torn between wishing the sun would set and hoping it would never go down when there was a knock on the castle door. In all the time she had been here, Drake hadn’t received any visitors. The only outsiders to come calling had been her uncle’s men. Had they returned?

Hands clenched, she glanced around the room. What should she do? If she stayed quiet and didn’t answer the door, maybe whoever it was would go away.

The knock came again. Harder. Louder. And then a voice. A woman’s voice.

“Miss Knightsbridge? Hello? Is anyone home? It’s Madame Raschelle.”

Elena frowned. Who on earth was Madame Raschelle, and what was she doing here?

“The dressmaker,” the woman clarified. “From Brasov. I have a delivery for Lord Drake.”

Lord Drake? He hadn’t said anything about being royalty. Curious, she went to open the door.

“Miss Knightsbridge?”

Elena nodded. Madame Raschelle was tall and lean. Her hair was bright red under a frilly bonnet that was the same shade of green as her eyes. Her russet-colored silk gown and colorful fringed shawl were like nothing Elena had ever seen before, except in period movies.