Читать книгу Blind Date Rivals - Нина Харрингтон - Страница 8

SARA walked slowly along the buffet table, loading up her plate with bite-sized mouthfuls of the most delicious food. The hotel chef was amazing and, after three glasses of the Kaplinski cocktail whilst waiting for Helen, who was still mingling, she was in need of something more solid to add to her stomach. Her snatched lunchtime sandwich was a distant memory, and she wasn’t entirely sure she had finished that. Okay, she was having a slight problem using the serving tongs while wearing long evening gloves which were slightly too large for her, but hunger had won out in the end and her reward was a plate heaped up with goodies.

The gloves were going to have to come off during the actual eating process—but some things were worth the sacrifice. And at this rate it would not take long for her to scoff the lot.

She had just paused at the mini pizza platter when the strains of a familiar musical theme song belted out above the background chatter. Her hand trembled as a tsunami of emotion and sentimental angst swept over her. All it took were a few lines of lyrics and the sound of a studio orchestra … and she unravelled.

It had always been the same. Sounds and music were associated for ever in her mind with specific people and places and events, and there was nothing she could do about it—that was the way her mind worked. All she had to do was hear the opening bars of a tune and she was right back in that moment.

Pity that it had to be now.

It had been a long busy week and the last thing she wanted was to walk into a party with a soundtrack playing music from one of her grandmother’s favourite musicals. Just the memory of her grandmother holding her hand as they danced around this room, both singing at the top of their voices and having so much fun, was enough to get Sara feeling tearful.

She had so little left of her wonderful grandmother that even these memories seemed too precious to share in public.

No, she told herself sternly. She was not going to weep. This was Helen’s birthday party! And she still had her grand mother’s orchid houses—and they had meant more to her than anything else in this fine house. The fact that her grandmother had bequeathed them to her with the cottage was worth any amount of ridicule from her mother. She had trusted her to take care of them as their new custodian and that was precisely what she was doing.

So she had every reason to smile and pretend that every thing was fine and she was just dandy! After everything Helen had done for her, she was not going to let her down. No way. Not going to happen. And so far her blind date had not appeared so she had this time to herself.

She needed a drink to ease the burning pain in her throat. That was all.

Sara quickly loaded up her plate with savoury bites, then paused in front of a superb dessert trolley. And right on top was a black satin-lined tray of chocolates which had been shaped into small award statuettes. Except that the few remaining chocolates had been crushed by other guests in their rush to gobble them up and from where she was standing looked more like body halves, with a luscious creamy-white centre. Perfect.

She had just scooped up some chocolate legs onto a silver spoon when there was a clatter and a loud beeping noise and Helen’s distinctive voice called out from the centre of the room. Sara turned around just in time to see her friend stand on a chair holding a microphone in one hand and waving her basket in her other hand with such gusto that poor little stuffed Toto was joggling about and threatening to jump out at any minute.

‘Hello, everyone. Me here. Thanks for coming. Just to let you know that there are five more minutes before the karaoke starts, so finish off your drinks and food and get ready to sing your heart out. Yes. That’s right. Hollywood musicals. I just know it is going to be the best fun. Thanks.’

With that, Caspar strolled up and wrapped his arm around Helen’s waist to lift her off the chair and back to the table, both of them laughing and so very happy. And, despite the fact that she wished her friends every joy, Sara felt her heart break as she watched Helen and Caspar clinging together. Was she ever going to find someone she wanted to be with who could return her love without seeing her as little more than an aristocratic trophy girl?

Sara was so distracted that it took her a second to realise that the other partygoers were making a sudden rush towards her and what was left on the buffet table. Drat. She would have to work fast to stock up before the hordes descended. Good thing she was at the dessert end of the queue. And with that she turned back to the trolley.

Only her way was blocked by the man in the cape. And as she moved forward and he turned towards her, her hand banged into his arm and some of Sara’s chocolate legs went flying onto the floor, narrowly missing his suit.

‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ she said, suddenly aware that she had not even realised that he was standing there as she reached across. ‘How clumsy of me.’

Sara looked straight across into a pair of blue-grey eyes, the brightness backlit by the gentle light from a crystal chandelier over the buffet table. Their eyes locked for a moment, and something inside her flipped over. Several times.

This vampire was probably the best-looking man she had seen in a very long time. He had a long oval face with a strong chin and cheekbones which could have been carved by a Renaissance sculptor, backed up by light Mediterranean colouring.

The only things that stopped her from melting into a pool at his feet were the deep frown lines between his heavy dark brown eyebrows. Perhaps he was as worried about the karaoke as she was?

Sara blinked several times. On the other hand, perhaps mixing allergy tablets with strange cocktails was not such a good idea and she should skip that question? But there was definitely something in the way he looked at her which had her skin standing to attention and her entire body waving hello, handsome!

‘My fault entirely,’ he replied ‘Ah. Now it makes perfect sense. I came between a woman and her next chocolate fix. I now consider myself fortunate to have survived.’

He bent down and picked up what was left of the choco late leg, which was now covered with a thick layer of whatever was on the fine parquet flooring from the feet of the guests. Only he squeezed it a little too hard, and the chocolate burst to release a gooey white chocolatey sticky mess over his white vampire costume gloves.

Sara held out a couple of napkins at arm’s length. ‘Don’t get the chocolate on your gloves—you’ll never get the stain out!’

Leo nodded wisely, tried to wipe the fragments of melted dark chocolate from the white fabric, gave up, then picked up a fresh piece of broken chocolate from the tray with his fingertips and bit into it. ‘Might as well make the most of having messy fingers and be reckless. White fondant icing and bitter dark choc. Um … not too bad at all.’

Leo lifted the box from the display like a waiter and wafted them in front of Sara’s nose.

‘Miss Golightly, please allow me to replace your crushed confectionary in exchange for a nibble. And try saying that after one of Caspar’s cocktails without getting slapped.’

Sara laughed out loud, making him raise his head, and he gave her a warm smile, which was slightly set off by the chocolate on his teeth—but warm nevertheless, with a certain twinkle in his eye which was infectious enough to make it impossible for her to refuse.

‘Only if you can spare one, dear Count? How kind, thank you.’

Sara turned her head and nodded over her shoulder. ‘All ready for your party piece? I have to warn you, Helen is relentless. Nobody will escape.’

He looked from side to side and leant closer, giving her a free whiff of a stunning body wash. ‘Ze Prince of Darkness does not do diz party piece. No, no. It ees no elegant.’

‘Can’t sing for toffee?’ Sara asked in a light voice, eye brows raised.

His reply was a small shrug and a flip of one hand. ‘So many talents.’ Then he dropped his head and said through the corner of his mouth, ‘Every dog in the village would start howling at the moon if I started singing. Tone deaf. Tried before. Crashed and burned. Not going to embarrass myself again.’

Sara was about to reply when a large gentleman in a huge gorilla suit joggled her arm en route to the buffet table, almost causing her to lose her dinner plate, and she had to snatch it away from catastrophe.

‘I have a suggestion,’ Sara whispered in her very best conspiratorial voice.

She glanced from side to side around the room. The way onto the patio was blocked by the karaoke machine and Helen and her workmates, who were setting up some fiendish plan to persuade them all to sing. Drat! That was one exit down. Time to get creative.

‘What would you say if I told you that I knew a secret exit onto the garden and we could escape the karaoke machine and eat our dinner in peace?’

Dracula’s reply was to take a surprisingly firm hold around her waist, which made her gasp, and a firmer grip on his dinner plate before he whispered, ‘I would tell you that I will follow you to the ends of the earth, my precious beauty. But make it fast. Caspar is on the prowl, looking for victims. And he has found a plastic machine gun.’

‘Okay, now I am intrigued,’ her fellow escapee whispered as they casually strolled along the wide terrace which ran around the full length of the hotel.

The sound of clinking glasses, tunes from the classic musicals, really bad singing and lively chatter floated out into the summer evening through the open patio doors from the drawing room. Helen’s party was in full swing but they had escaped and enjoyed their dinner in luxurious calm—and without the hindrance of evening gloves.

‘How on earth did you know about that secret staircase leading down from the hall to the back door?’

Sara looked up at him and her lips curled into a smirk before she replied, ‘Oh, I know every hidden passage and room and secret stair in that hotel. But of course you wouldn’t know … I’m a local girl. In fact—’ and at this she paused ‘—you might say I am very local.’

Then she took pity on his confusion, smiled and leant forward before adding, as casually as she could, ‘I grew up in that house. Kingsmede Manor used to be my home.’

She stopped suddenly, dropped her shoulders back and pointed towards the upper floor of the building. ‘Do you see the arched window with the stained glass? The room just at the corner on the left-hand side with the tiny balcony? That was my bedroom. I could lie in bed at night and watch the stars and the trees through the big picture window. It was magical!’

‘Now I’m really confused,’ he replied. ‘Are you telling me that your family used to own this house?’

‘That’s right,’ she answered with a shrug. ‘I am officially the last in the line of a family of Victorian eccentrics who built this house many generations ago. My grandmother passed away three years ago and left the whole place to my mother.’

Sara tilted her head and was grateful for the darkness in their corner of the garden so that he could not see the glint in her eyes. Talking about those sad times still hurt. ‘Mum didn’t want to live here—there were huge debts to clear and I’m sure you can imagine how expensive this house would be to run as a holiday home.’ Sara waved one hand, then let it fall as she turned back to face him. ‘And now it is this lovely hotel.’

‘Wow,’ he replied, with a look of something close to awe in his face. ‘Are you serious? Did you really grow up in this amazing place?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she answered with a tiny shrug. ‘I was sent to boarding school at the age of eight but this was the place I came back to every school holiday. We didn’t have much money to spend on luxuries but it was paradise for a child.’

She stopped talking and stood still for a moment, her eyes scanning the whole front of the building. ‘I have wonderful memories of my life here.’ She turned back to him with a smile and raised her eyebrows to ask with a lift in her voice, ‘How about you? What is your old castle like back in Transylvania?’

‘Oh, the usual problems of living in a dungeon,’ he replied with a sniff. ‘You just cannot get the staff these days. Draughty. Cold. There is a lot to be said for central heating.’

‘Oh, I so agree,’ Sara said with a nod. ‘The modern vampire needs his central heating.’

‘Even so,’ Dracula said, leaning against a wrought-iron balustrade at the edge of the terrace and peering out across the grounds in front of the house, ‘I envy you growing up here.’

Sara moved closer so that she could stand next to him with her arms stretched out on the metal railing. The cherry trees in front of the house had been strung with white party lights so the front entrance looked like a picture from a children’s fairy tale. A pergola filled with climbing white roses and multicoloured clematis in pinks and purples had been built on the western side of the house to capture the last rays of the setting sun and as Sara and the vampire looked out onto the lawns a light breeze lifted the perfume and surrounded them with warmth and fragrance.

It was a magical evening and Sara felt her shoulders relax for the first time in many days. A new moon appeared in the night sky, which was clear and already twinkling with the first stars.

She was suddenly very glad that she had accepted Helen’s invitation to the party.

This was why she’d never found peace when she’d lived in London. It had never come close to this special place in her life.

She leant in contented silence and grasped the balustrade with both hands and inhaled the warm air and the warm atmosphere drifting out from the party, which was going on quite well without them. She was also aware of how very close she was standing next to this man she had only just met. Close enough that she could hear his breathing and the way his cloak rustled in the slight breeze, silk on silk.

This was new! It had been a long time since she had spent the evening alone with a handsome man. Especially one content to enjoy the view in silence. He seemed happy to allow her to do all the talking but she was relaxed enough in his presence to chatter on about nothing in particular.

Of course he knew very little about her and they could enjoy the type of conversation that could only happen between strangers, unfettered by past history.

Perhaps she should start talking about orchids and fertiliser and the poor man would run away for help? As it was, she knew Helen would soon send out a search party to track her down so that she could be introduced to her blind date whether she liked it or not.

A twinge of guilt made Sara wince. Caspar’s friend was probably inside, feeling most neglected and rejected. She should go in and face the music in more ways than one.

Soon.

She would go in soon.

She could stand here for another few minutes and enjoy herself before going back to the party and throwing herself into Helen’s celebrations. She was not going to spend her best friend’s party hiding in the garden feeling sorry for herself or mourning the life she had once known. Especially when she had such a good listener as a companion.

‘I don’t come here very often,’ she whispered, even though there was only the two of them on the terrace. ‘My cottage is just across the lane so I can see the house every day if I want. But this garden is for hotel guests now, not previous residents. This is a rare treat.’

‘That’s because you love this place so much and you miss it,’ he replied in a gentle voice and chuckled at her gasp of surprise. ‘Yes. It is fairly obvious. Especially …’

‘Especially?’ Sara asked in a shaky breath. She was not used to opening up to a complete stranger in this way and it startled her, and yet was strangely reassuring. Weird.

‘I was going to say, especially considering that your family sent you away to boarding school when you were only eight years old.’ He blew out hard and blinked. ‘Eight! That’s hard for me to get my head around. You must have been so miserable.’

Miserable? How did she even begin to explain to a stranger the misery of leaving her home in the middle of the most traumatic time of her life? Abandoned by her mother, who didn’t know what to do with her. Worse, by the father she adored, who thought he was doing the right thing by leaving them to start a new life in South America when the life of luxury he’d thought he had married into when he’d chosen a girl with an aristocratic title and a country estate had completely failed to materialise.

Her whole world had shifted under her feet and was still shifting now. Even after three years of living in her tiny cottage, there were some days when she had to remind herself that she had a home that no one could take away from her. She might be unloved but she would never again be homeless and rootless. She had sold everything she had and burnt her bridges to make the orchid nursery a reality—but it was hers.

Sara blinked hard. The blur of constant activity which she used to fill each day created a very effective distraction, but even talking about those sad times brought memories percolating up into her consciousness. Memories she had to put back in their place where they belonged.

Selling the house and most of the contents had been the price her mother had to pay for the chance for them both to be independent. But it had still been incredibly painful.

Instinctively, she felt the man in the black costume looking at her, watching her, one elbow on the metal railing, waiting for her to give him an answer to this question.

She turned slightly towards him and noticed for the first time, in the light from the party room and the twinkling stars in the trees, that his eyes were not grey but a shade of blue like the ocean at dusk. And at that moment those eyes were staring very intently at her.

On another day and another time she might even have said that he was more gorgeous than merely handsome. He was certainly striking and wore the cape and costume as though it had been made for him.

Allure of this quality did not come cheap.

It was a shame that she had sworn off dating for at least a year or two until she had a new greenhouse up and running. Until then, she could keep her loneliness to herself and wear her happy face to the world, even if it was a struggle sometimes.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘they had their reasons. And it wasn’t all bad. I knew that I would always have this home to come back to in the holidays. My grandmother had such fun here. She loved this old house, especially the gardens.’

‘The gardens?’ he asked and his hand swept out towards the long stretches of simple grass lawns. ‘What was so special about the gardens? They seem pretty normal to me.’

‘Oh,’ she breathed, and a great grin creased her face. ‘The gardens then were nothing like they are today. They were … extraordinary. Unique. People used to come for miles just to see the gardens of this house.’ Sara turned back to face the lawns and gestured past the cherry trees towards the beech hedges and the long drive to the lane. ‘It’s only a few minutes’ walk to Kingsmede village from here and the gardens were somehow part of the community. She used to hold the most remarkable parties here. The local village fete, of course. Then there were weddings, birthday parties and all kinds of local and family events.’

She flicked a smile at Dracula, who was still watching her, almost as though he was studying her. ‘I can remember my grandmother’s eightieth birthday party as though it was yesterday. We started in the afternoon with most of the village turning up for afternoon tea, and then moved on to dinner with a live band with dancing and singing. Then there were fireworks. Lots of fireworks.’

Sara shook her head but when she spoke her voice trailed away. ‘It was a magical night. The end of an era, I suppose.’ Then she looked up into the sky at the new moon and felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes as the memory of the event swirled through her. She was so captivated by the intense memory of her grandmother dancing in her ballgown and jewels, and the music and the fairy lights and trees, that when Dracula shifted next to her on the railing, she suddenly came crashing down to earth with the harsh reality that those moments and those parties were long gone like the gardens that used to be here.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said through a tight, sore throat. ‘Here I am, rambling on about people you don’t know and a world which has already long gone. How embarrassing! I don’t usually go on about the house like this. The hotel company own it now and there’s nothing I can do about that. But thank you for listening.’

Dracula inclined his head towards her. ‘I got the feeling that you needed to talk. Apparently I was right. And you weren’t boring, not in the least.’

He took a step closer in the fading light and in the harsh shadows his cheekbones were sharp angles and his chin strong and resolute. His body was tall and slim but anything but boyish.

Just the opposite. The masculine strength and power positively beamed out from every pore and grabbed her. It was in the way he held his body, the way his head inclined just that tiny fraction of an inch as he looked at her as though she was the most fascinating woman he had ever met, and oh, yes, the laser focus of those intelligent blue-grey eyes had a lot to do with it as well.

He was so close that she could touch him if she wanted to. In the calm tranquillity of their pergola she could practically feel the softness of his breath on her skin as he gazed intently into her eyes. Loud laughter and bright music was playing somewhere in the house but all of her senses were totally focused on this man who had outspokenly captivated her.

She couldn’t move.

She did not want to move.

And then he did something extraordinary. He leant forward so that their bodies were almost touching and she sucked in a breath, terrified, exhilarated and excited. Was he going to kiss her? But, with a faint smile, he lifted his chin, his eyes broke away from hers and he reached out to the climbing rose behind her head and stepped back a second later with a perfect full white rose.

She stared, wide-eyed, as he swept his thumb and forefinger down the stem with his naked hand.

‘A lovely rose for a lovely lady. No thorns allowed. May I?’

Completely at a loss as to what he was asking permission to do, Sara simply nodded and smiled as he stretched out his hand, lifted her left wrist towards him and carefully pressed the rose stem under the jewelled strap of her watch.

‘I never had more than a window box growing up, so I am totally clueless when it comes to flowers,’ he murmured in a smooth warm voice. ‘But I hope you will accept this small token as a pitiful excuse for a wrist corsage.’

She smiled and bit her lower lip, and was instantly grateful for the cover of darkness to cover up her blushes. ‘It’s lovely. Thank you.’

‘Excellent,’ he replied and stepped back and extended both arms, his cloak flapping behind him. ‘Well, that only leaves one more special request to complete the evening.’ He twirled his right hand in the air and gave a dramatic short bow from the waist. ‘May I have the pleasure of this dance, young lady? I shall try not to step on your toes or spread chocolate on the back of your dress.’

‘Well,’ Sara replied with a sigh and looked from side to side on the deserted terrace, ‘my dance card is already quite full, but I suppose I could spare you a few min utes.’

Instantly she found his right hand resting lightly at her waist, and her right hand resting lightly inside his fingers. ‘They’re playing our song.’ He smiled and drew her closer towards him so that the front of his black jacket was just touching her chest.

Stunned by being pressed against him by a firm hand in the small of her back, Sara blinked hard, swallowed down a gulp of shock and paid attention. ‘We have a song?’ she asked, then looked up from his shoes to find him smiling deep into her eyes.

‘Of course.’ He grinned and stepped forward with his right foot, then shifted onto his left, carrying her with him onto the wider part of the terrace. ‘Just listen,’ he whispered into her ear, and moved gracefully from side to side.

It was a waltz. A dreamy concoction from a long gone world of Viennese dancing in crystal ballrooms, captured for ever on celluloid and movie soundtrack albums so that she could listen to those soaring strings in a country garden in England, through the open patio doors of a party. And it took her breath away.

Sara was so entranced that it took her a second to realise that her feet were moving instinctively into the waltz positions she had been taught at school all those years ago.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ her dance partner whispered and she opened her eyes to find him smiling down at her. ‘Is the Danube really blue? And are there woods in Vienna?’

‘Ah. Caught me out,’ she tutted back, suddenly grateful that he did not know what she had actually been thinking, which had a lot more to do with just how close their bodies were pressed together.

‘I do have one question,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Don’t you find it difficult to go back into the house as just a normal guest?’

‘Yes, I do,’ she answered as truthfully as she could. ‘But I couldn’t miss the chance to catch up with Helen for a few hours. We lead such busy lives these days.’

And then Sara tilted her head and looked up at the tall man whose eyes had rarely left hers for the whole time that they had been out on the terrace.

‘And how about you? How do you know Caspar? I noticed you chatting when you came in and, no offence, but you don’t look like a lawyer.’

The corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile which even in this light seemed to illuminate his face and soften the harsh contours, making it even more handsome than it was before.

‘None taken,’ he replied and pursed his lips. ‘Caspar used to date my younger sister. And I think it’s time for a twirl.’ He stepped back as the music soared to a crescendo and lifted his left arm high above her head, just far enough so that Sara could turn around in probably the worst twirl under the sun, but they were both laughing at the end of it.

Judging by the applause and cheers that burst forth from the party, they had not been the only ones who had tried to match the music with some dancing.

Instantly the music shifted to a loud song from a children’s cartoon sung by dancing kitchen utensils and her vampire looked at her and shrugged.

‘I agree,’ Sara murmured and shook her head. ‘I think that’s my signal to sit the next dance out. But thank you, kind sir. And now it is my turn for a question. Isn’t that a little awkward?’ she asked as his hands released her and she felt in desperate need of a distraction to fill the growing space between them.

‘Seeing Caspar with Helen? You do know that they adore each other?’

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled as he leant back against the railing. ‘I certainly hope so since I have been invited to their wedding. But no, it isn’t a problem. In fact I’m pleased for him. It was years ago, my sister is happily married and quite pregnant and Caspar has found someone who loves him. Good luck to them both.’

Then he turned sideways. ‘You dance beautifully. And in fact I should be thanking you for helping me to make a lucky escape.’

He chuckled loudly and thrust both hands deep into the trouser pockets of his tuxedo trousers. ‘The lovely Helen had set me up on a blind date! Can you believe it? I am sure her old school friend is absolutely charming but there is no way that I intend to date a country girl who needs Helen’s help to find an escort for the evening. Thank you but no. I don’t do country. Never have, never will.’

Sara very slowly and carefully moved closer to the handrail so that she could gaze out over the lawns without looking at the vampire. Was it possible? Was this the famous Leo that Helen was trying to set her up with? Caspar’s friend?

She almost groaned out loud. Of course! Who else would it be?

Sara’s cheeks burned with humiliation and embarrassment. How could she have been so stupid? She was never going to live this one down.

Now what did she do? Tell the truth? Try and laugh it off and save them both the embarrassment? What were the alternatives? After all, she already knew that he would be an usher at Helen and Caspar’s wedding, so there was no escaping him. But right now at this minute he had no idea that she was the country bumpkin in question.

She glanced up at him and instant regret fluttered through her.

Just when she was enjoying this man’s company, there was a sting in the tail. He was handsome, generous and a good listener. Those were good credentials for any date. Helen certainly did good work except for one tiny thing. This man had no intention of going out on a blind date with her, just as she had no intention of going out with him.

Suddenly all the enjoyment of her waltz in the moonlight seemed to drift away into the air like smoke in the wind. Every spark of energy and enthusiasm was extinguished, leaving behind a sad and pathetic girl whose friends took pity on her.

Dracula was right. She had become the country girl he so clearly despised, just as her mother had predicted she would. Clumsy, gauche, uncultured and unattractive. Destined for a life alone because no decent man would look twice at her. She could just hear her mother’s voice, drenched with disgust and disappointment, on the day after the funeral when her ex-boyfriend had dumped her and taken off back to London as fast as his sports car could take him.

Well, it looks like you were right, Mum.

Suddenly the enormity of everything that was happening in her life seemed to crash down on her, and Sara shivered in her sleeveless shift dress. There was no way that she could go back into the party now.

It was time to go home. And back to the insular life she had created for herself and all of the harsh realities that lay there—and definitely without this man who had treated her as an equal for an hour. He looked so handsome and clearly successful, while she was a walking advert for a mess.

‘Feeling cold?’ Dracula asked and, without waiting for a reply, he reached behind his shoulders and slipped off the scarlet-lined cape and draped it in a single swirl of his wrists around her neck so that it fell almost to her bracelets in a cocoon of body-warmed fabric. Sara inhaled the perfume of the man’s body and, despite her best efforts to resist, pulled the fabric closer around her so that his warmth penetrated her goose-fleshed arms and the shivering died away.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured but still could not look him in the eye. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll head home for the evening. It has been a long busy week. I’ll make sure that Caspar returns the cape to you before you leave. Thank you for your company.’

‘Hey, wait a moment, Cinderella,’ he replied as she lifted her head and tried to walk casually back to the side gate which led to her cottage. ‘Did you say that you were staying across the lane? Please allow me to see you home. It is the very least I can do, seeing as you gave me such a lucky escape.’

And, before she could accept or decline, Dracula stepped in place beside her and they strolled side by side across the lawns and away from the house in silence. Her throat burning with humiliation, her eyes stinging. Incapable of speech.