"Vicki Cavendish," she murmured, "vampire blood bank."

" Victoria, you must never think of yourself like that!"

"Sorry," she said with a lopsided grin. "I may go back to the Red Cross. They always give me cookies with my orange juice."

Antonio stared down at her, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Instead, he lifted her into his arms and sat down. "Finish your juice, my sweet one, and the next time I ask you to indulge me, tell me no."

"Next time," she murmured, and fell asleep in his arms.

He caught the glass before it fell to the floor. For her own good, there could not be a next time.

Chapter 27

Dimitri Falco prowled the perimeter of the castle, his anger growing with every step. She was here. Her blood called to him as a Siren called a sailor to the sea. And he would have her. In spite of that thieving bastard, Battista, in spite of that accursed vampire hunter, he would have her!

But first he would have to dispose of Battista.

How best to do it? That was the question. It would have to be something slow and painful. Pondering the possibilities made him smile with anticipation.

They thought they were safe, the two of them locked inside the castle. It pleased him to let them think so, for now.

Chapter 28

For the second time in as many days, Vicki woke in bed with no recollection of how she'd gotten there. She lifted a hand to her neck. Little frissons of heat warmed her palm when she touched the place where Antonio's mouth had been. It puzzled her that something that sounded so repulsive could bring such pleasure.

Lying in bed, she wondered how things were going at the diner, how Duncan and Bobbie Sue were getting along, if Mrs. Heath had started making pumpkin pies and cakes for the fall social held at the church each year, if there had been any more murders. Though she had been in the castle only a couple of days, it seemed as though she had been cut off from the world.

A sudden rush of cool air had her sitting up and looking around to see if there was a window open. Seeing nothing amiss, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and went into the bathroom to take a shower. She lifted a hand to her neck, her fingertips exploring the stitches. No doubt she would have a nasty scar.

After dressing in a pair of jeans and a sweater, she went downstairs for a bowl of cereal.

Sitting at the table in the kitchen, she again felt a sudden chill in the air. Was Antonio playing tricks on her? But no, he was resting in some secret hideaway.

Frowning, she washed her dishes and went upstairs.

And the chill followed behind her.

At the top of the stairs, she whirled around, her gaze darting right and left as the chill grew stronger. She let out a shriek as what felt like a cold hand touched her cheek.

A peal of merry laughter filled the air and then, to Vicki's astonishment, the ethereal figure of a tall, slender woman in an old-fashioned peach-colored gown appeared before her.

"Good morrow," said the woman.

Vicki blinked and blinked again. It was Antonio's resident ghost, she was sure of it.

"Lady Kathryn," she murmured.

"You've heard of me!" The ghost clapped her hands in delight. Vicki noticed that her feet didn't touch the ground.

"Yes."

"Welcome to my humble home," Lady Kathryn said. "It is so wonderful to have another woman in residence. Please, do come into the parlor and sit down so that we can have a nice, long chat."

With a nod, Vicki followed the ghost into the front parlor and sat on the sofa.

Lady Kathryn perched on the chair, her back perfectly straight, her hands folded in her lap. "What brings you to the castle? Did that handsome creature, Battista, invite you?"

"Yes," Vicki said.

"Is he not the most charming man you have ever met?" Lady Kathryn asked, a dreamy look in her eye. "He is so tall and so handsome."

Vicki nodded, bemused that a ghost would still be interested in such things.

"Come now," Lady Kathryn said, "you must tell me all about yourself. Who are your people and where do you come from?"

"I'm from a little town called Pear Blossom Creek. My family is from Kentucky."

"Is that in the Colonies?"

"No," Vicki replied with a grin.

" 'Tis quite bold of you to come here without a chaperone," Lady Kathryn remarked. "Are you and Antonio betrothed?"

"No, we're just… " Vicki paused. Just what? Friends? No, they were certainly more than friends. Friends didn't drink your blood! Not just friends, not quite lovers.

Lady Kathryn nodded. "I see," she said, her dark eyes smiling. "I had a liaison like that before I married Lord Dunsmere. It was quite satisfying. Indeed, I might have married Thomas had his family not been so poor and my father not so insistent that I marry Dunsmere. Not that Dunsmere was a bad man, you understand, but… " She lifted one hand in an elegant gesture. "He was rather older than I was and quite boring. Both in bed and out."

Vicki burst out laughing, then quickly covered her mouth.

Lady Kathryn laughed, as well. "I know, 'tis quite wicked of me to speak so of the dead, but… " She shrugged. "I feel I can be honest with you. And speaking of being honest…

" She leaned forward, her expression suddenly sober. "You do know that Antonio is, how shall I say this, different from other men?"

"Yes, I know."

Lady Kathryn reached forward and patted Vicki's hand. Her touch was cool but intangible. "I am so glad you are here. The poor man has been quite lonely these past few hundred years."

Vicki shook her head. For a few minutes, she had almost forgotten that she was talking to a ghost, or that there was anything unusual about Antonio. But talk of a few hundred years brought her swiftly back to reality. She laughed inwardly. Reality, indeed.

Everything that had happened since the night Antonio first entered the diner seemed like some kind of fever-induced dream.

"Has he shown you the house?" Lady Kathryn asked. "It has been in my late husband's family for generations."

"Yes, Antonio gave me a tour. It's a fabulous place." Vicki wanted to ask if there were any other ghosts haunting the castle, but she was afraid she might offend Lady Kathryn, and surely if there were, Antonio would have mentioned it.

"Thank you." Lady Kathryn smiled, pleased, and then grew serious once more. "I saw a strange man wandering the grounds late last night. Are you expecting visitors?"

Vicki shook her head. "No."

"I do not recall seeing him in the area before. He had the most peculiar eyes."

Fear jolted down Vicki's spine, making it suddenly hard to breathe. "Peculiar?"

"Yes, they were yellow, almost like a cat's eyes. Very strange." Lady Kathryn frowned.

"Is something amiss? You look quite pale."

Vicki took several deep breaths. She felt pale. And frightened. Only last night she had asked Antonio if Falco could have followed them. Now she knew that he had.

She was fixing dinner when Antonio appeared in the kitchen. She felt a sudden rush of heat warm her cheeks when she turned and saw him standing there. His gaze met hers and her mind flooded with images of being in his arms, of his mouth on hers. And suddenly it wasn't the chicken baking in the oven she was hungry for, but the feel of his arms around her, his mouth crushing hers, his voice whispering in her ear.

"Ah, my sweet one," he murmured. "For me it is the same."

"Then why are you standing way over there?"

He lifted one brow, smiled a smug masculine smile when she pointed one finger at him and beckoned him to come to her.

He closed the distance between them in two strides and drew her into his arms.

Lowering his head, he branded her lips with his.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight as he deepened the kiss, his mouth scorching hers, his tongue a flame that burned every other thought from her mind.

His hands moved over her back, slid down to cup her buttocks, drawing her more firmly against him, letting her feel the heat of his arousal.

She moaned, a raw animal-like cry of need, as she pressed herself against him, wanting to be closer, closer. Her hand delved under his shirt, her nails raking the cool skin of his back.

He breathed her name as he rained kisses on her face, her neck, the hollow of her throat. He might have taken her there, on the kitchen table, if a sudden rush of cool air hadn't filled the room, followed by a peal of merry laughter.

"Really, Antonio," Lady Kathryn said, "can you not wait until you have her under the sheets?"

Cheeks hot with embarrassment, Vicki looked over Antonio's shoulder to see the ghost standing in the kitchen doorway, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Antonio muttered an oath as he loosened his hold on Victoria and turned to face the intruder. "I have not seen you for days and now you appear?" Though his voice was gruff, Vicki didn't miss the underlying note of affection. "Be gone with you, spirit!"

Lady Kathryn laughed again as she glided into the room. "Are you two so caught up in each other you would let the house burn down around you?" She gestured at the stove.

"Yon dinner is aflame."

"Oh, no!" Vicki ran to the stove and opened the door. The chicken wasn't on fire, but it now resembled charcoal more than chicken. She pulled the roasting pan from the oven, uttering a wordless cry of pain as the hot metal burned her hand.

Antonio was beside her in an instant. Taking her injured hand in his, he bit his finger hard enough to draw several drops of blood, which he spread over the angry burn on her hand.

"What are you doing?" Vicki exclaimed, and then murmured, "Oh, my," as the throbbing pain receded to a dull ache and then disappeared.

She looked up at Antonio, shocked beyond words at what had just happened. She looked down at her hand, which was healing before her eyes, the raw, red patch fading until only healthy pink skin remained.

"That's… it's… " She stared up at him, stunned.