CHAPTER ELEVEN

August 18, 1998

Meghann looked around the dark, dank chamber with loathing. This was where Simon had tortured Jimmy. Bile rose in her throat when her eyes settled on the iron maiden, the door to the casket ajar but empty now.

Against her will, Meghann remembered when that foul contraption had contained the body of her lover. Was it her imagination or did she see small drops of blood glistening on the brutal spikes in the door of the iron maiden? Jimmy's blood… how it must have hurt when those spikes settled into his flesh as Simon slammed the door shut and how Jimmy must have screamed…

"No, please, no. I don't want to see!" Meghann pleaded with whatever force, be it her subconscious or something stronger, used her dreams to drag her back to this awful place.

"Look carefully at this room, Banrion," a somber voice intoned behind her, and Meghann spun around to see Alcuin standing in the center of the room, his gentle brown eyes filled with sorrow and pity while he addressed her. "This chamber is a perfect reflection of Simon Baldevar's soul—dark, bleak, twisted, and capable of any cruelty to gain what he wants. Is that the kind of man you want to raise your child with?"

"Don't you lecture me on what kind of man Simon is," Meghann fired back, for the first time addressing Alcuin without the utmost respect and love. She wasn't won over by his addressing her with the pet name of Banrion; she remembered all Simon had told her. "Even he doesn't prey on pregnant women."

"What Guy did to you last night was despicable," Alcuin said, and Meghann had never seen his gentle eyes look so sad. "I would never deny that and I will not allow him to go on thinking he did it for me. But he was not the one that caused this situation. Guy, like everyone else, is terrified of Lord Baldevar. That terror brought all the flaws in Guy's soul to the surface. I am not trying to excuse Guy—he will suffer for his behavior. But I do not believe he would have hurt you if Lord Baldevar hadn't made you conceive."

"Would you have hurt me because Simon made me conceive?" Meghann demanded angrily. "Was Simon right—were you going to stand by and let me die without telling me I needed his blood to survive?"

"Never," Alcuin said firmly. "Lord Baldevar achieving the philosophers' stone may present a grave threat to all that oppose him but I would never sanction your death to neutralize that threat. Meghann, you are an innocent in all of this. I know that wicked fiend forced himself upon you.…"

Meghann sagged against the iron maiden. "Alcuin, that's a lie. Simon… he didn't force himself on me that night. …"

"No!" Alcuin came to her side, clutching her arms with a grip that hurt even in a dream. "Banrion, brute strength isn't the only way to rape a woman. Never underestimate Lord Baldevar's cleverness. I know what he did to you that night… he found every vulnerable, soft corner in your mind and exploited them all ruthlessly. I know he took advantage of your fear and uncertainty and when you lay weeping before him, he took you."

Meghann shook her head. "I was crying because he made me see that part of me… part of me loves him." There—she'd said it. Part of her loved Simon Baldevar; always had, always would.

Alcuin took her hands in his. "Banrion, trust me when I tell you what you feel is not love. You're simply very vulnerable right now and your vulnerability makes you reach out for any kind of comfort. But I beg you, do not turn to Simon Baldevar for solace. Remember the monster that lurks beneath the soft facade he's adopted in an attempt to win your heart. All his sweet, tender words and gestures are false. He doesn't love you, because he's incapable of love. Once you have the child, he'll destroy you… if not by killing you outright, then by making your soul as bleak and shattered as his own. Lord Baldevar is a vampire in every sense of the word. He will take everything from you, suck you dry, and leave you with nothing. Please don't give him your heart."

Alcuin's words cut into her like a knife. She couldn't bear to think that Simon was lying to her, that he didn't love her as he claimed, that the wonderful sense of peace she had when he held her close and soothed her fears was nothing but a calculated ruse to make her trust him.

"Oh," Meghann gasped. The thought of Simon not loving her… why hadn't she seen it before? Seen what kind of pain she must have put him through when she screamed that she hated him? She must have ripped his heart out when she was ready to walk out after thirteen years of professing to love him with all her heart and soul. How would she have felt if he'd been the one to turn her away all those years before?

Horrible, Meghann realized. Hurt and furious, but like him, she'd have been too proud to let him see her pain. No, she too would have thought of nothing but revenge—of hurting him as badly as he hurt her.

"I'm a fool," Meghann said, her voice dull and toneless. "This room, all the pain and death… Jimmy Delacroix… it's all my fault. I shouldn't have left Simon, I should have stayed with him and then everyone would be safe. …"

"Where would you be?" Alcuin demanded, and she still saw no anger or disappointment in his' gentle eyes. "Dead? Resigned to your fate?"

"In love," Meghann told him. "Don't you see, Alcuin? Maybe I do long for things Simon can't or won't give me but I do love him. I wish to God I didn't but I do."

"You don't love him—it's simply lust and his blood in you."

"No!" she howled. "No, no! I love him… I don't know why, but I do. Maybe there's something twisted and bent inside me, but I do love him and I'm tired of denying it."

"Banrion, no. You're in shock—you don't know what you're saying. I know you… you'll feel very differently when you no longer need his blood. Then you'll see him for what he is and when you do, Banrion, you can destroy him if you'll just let me work through you. After you have your child, allow my spirit to enter your body and you'll finally be able to live without the threat of Lord Baldevar hanging over your head."

Now Meghann understood—she knew why Alcuin had come to her. He needed someone living so he could possess their body with his own strength to behead Simon Baldevar. Who better for the position than the only person in the world Simon wanted to trust—Meghann O'Neill, the mother of his child? Besides, with Meghann's gift for summoning, it would be very easy for Alcuin's spirit to enter her body.

"You only came to me tonight because you want to use me," she accused, ignoring the pain in Alcuin's expression. "All you care about is killing Simon—you could give less of a damn if he makes my soul as bleak and shattered as his own. Go away! Find someone else to carry on your holy war against Simon Baldevar."

Alcuin tried to grab her, and she clawed at him furiously. "Let me go! Leave me the hell alone! Why can't all of you leave me alone? If you want Simon dead, do it yourself! Leave me alone. I want out of here. Simon! Simon, help me!"

She felt a harsh slap on her cheek. "Wake up!" Meghann sat up with a start, green eyes darting about wildly. Simon was leaning over her, the fury in his expression making her shake until she realized it wasn't directed at her.

Meghann felt her own anger. How dare Alcuin presume to tell her Simon's love was false or that she shouldn't put her faith in him! Who answered her last night, saved her from a demon she couldn't control, and delivered her from a madman that wanted to destroy her and her innocent child? Why should she continue to deny Simon when the only time she truly felt secure and happy was when she was with him? Because Alcuin insisted Simon would destroy her? Ha! It was Alcuin's fanatic lapdog that had tried to kill her, not Simon Baldevar.

A small voice tried to remind her of the evil Simon did to mortals but Meghann suppressed it ruthlessly. Why should she worry about the fate of humans she didn't know when every vampire in the world wanted to hunt her down for conceiving the philosophers' stone and the one person that could protect her was looking down at her so lovingly? Her conscience stabbed her when she realized that she was not overly concerned with how Simon dealt with others, as long as he treated her well and protected the baby.

Meghann put her hand on the small, star-shaped scar above his heart, the permanent mark of the stake she'd impaled him with. "Simon, do you think we could start over?"

"I've waited forty years for you to come back to me." Simon, caressed her cheek, amber eyes probing hers until she felt exposed to her soul. "But Alcuin told you one true thing. My love for you does not change what I am. If you want to be my consort, you must be willing to give me the same things I demanded the night I transformed you—your heart and soul. Are you willing to give me all I want?"

"Are you willing to treat me like a woman and not a toy?" Meghann asked back and Simon laughed, pushing her back into the silk and velvet cerise pillows on the bed.

"lie back and let me show you how well I can treat you," he murmured, wrapping his strong hands in her hair.

Eagerly, Meghann wrapped her arms around his neck and he kissed her hungrily, seeming to ask how much of herself she was willing to give.

Everything, she thought hazily. Take me, make me yours again. She arched her neck, smiling when Simon's lips left hers to seek out the creamy flesh of her neck.

"It won't hurt the baby?" she asked anxiously.

"I'll only taste you, Meghann… not take enough to weaken you."

"Oh, God," she breathed when his blood teeth pierced her so gently she hardly felt any pain. All she felt was exquisite pleasure pulsating through her body as he drank from her. Meghann leaned back, feeling a delicious lassitude build inside her along with a lust that screamed out for Simon to take more, drink all of her…

With a small groan, Simon pulled away from her. "I'm not done, little one," he promised when her hands reached out to guide him back to her neck. He pressed down on the punctures, allowing a small amount of blood to flow into a crystal wineglass he held to her neck.

Simon took a bit of the ruby liquid from the glass, and spread it on her nipples. Meghann howled in pleasure and felt her body on the brink of climax as he sucked the blood off her breasts with slow, lazy strokes of his tongue that made her cry out and push his head down on her body. It had been so long, too long. She'd missed having a vampire lover; no mortal man could combine sex and blood lust for this unbearable pleasure…

"Hurry," she moaned.

Simon raised his head and gave her a sardonic grin. "Little girl, I have waited forty years to have you like this. Do you think I would ruin this moment with haste? Keep quiet and relearn the exquisite value of patience."

Her eyes widened as she watched him cover her body in blood, making a crimson path from her breasts past her navel. His tongue followed the blood path leisurely, lingering at her stomach, the changes in her body and the hard mound of his child beneath his hands, the tiny life growing inside her.

He used the blood to reacquaint himself with every inch of her… painting long scarlet strokes over her legs that the tip of his tongue removed, nibbling at the arches of her feet, toes…

"Please," Meghann begged.

Simon looked up, holding the glass over her with a challenging grin. "Tell me where to put the blood, sweetheart."

Meeting his smirk with a bold glance, Meghann took the crystal glass and splashed the blood between her legs. "Lick it up."

Simon pushed her into the bed and bowed his chestnut head to her.

"Yes," she whimpered, feeling pleasure wash over her as he teased her again, licking with wicked slowness at the soft, needy flesh between her legs. "Oh, God, yes!"

Simon gave her a triumphant smile and pulled her beneath him, plunging so deep into her she almost thought he'd touch the child in her womb.

Meghann clawed at him and spread her legs wide, meeting each wild thrust with one of her own. She'd forgotten how good it was between them… forgotten how Simon made her the object of his complete attention, seemed to devote himself to her pleasure while at the same time he took everything in her, made her give more of herself than anyone else ever had.

Afterward, Meghann sprawled on top of her lover, and he smiled up at her flushed cheeks, bruised lips, and languid green eyes. "Feeling bleak and shattered, my pet?"

Meghann laughed, feeling nothing but an idiotic grin on her face and an urge to spin round and round, like a top.

"I'm happy," she murmured against his chest, a little surprised by that simple truth. When had her hatred for Simon Baldevar evaporated into nothingness? Was it because of the daily feedings that increased the link between them, the fact that he'd saved her life? Or had she, in her secret heart, never stopped loving him?

Simon plucked her up off the bed. "You shall be even happier, I promise you. Now it is time to get up out of that bed, wench. We have a long evening ahead of us."

Meghann glanced down at the huge tester bed, the wildly strewn sheets liberally splashed with blood—someone would think there'd been a massacre in this bed instead of two vampires tearing into each other.

"Maybe I want a long evening here," she suggested lasciviously. It had been so long since she'd been able to enjoy blood and sex at the same time. She reached out to stroke his arm. "You're the only vampire I've ever—"

"I know," Simon said, kissing her lightly. "And you will have many chances to lie with this vampire again but not now, sweet. Come along, I have some surprises for you."

"Max!" Meghann squealed when Simon threw open the door to an adjoining dressing room and her Irish setter joyfully bounded toward her, putting both paws on her shoulders.

"What a good dog," Meghann praised and then gave Simon a questioning glance. "Why is he here?" When she left New York, Meghann had put Max in the care of a house sitter, bringing him to Las Vegas only after Lee assured her he'd welcome the dog.

Simon put his hand out to the dog, allowing him to sniff cautiously. "I may be an evil fiend, but I'm not a tyrant, Meghann. How could you live here without your pet? I told Vinny to bring this charming fellow along with all your other things while we slept."

Meghann raised her eyebrows. "Who gave you permission to do that?" Just because she'd wanted to stay with Simon last night when she was so frightened didn't mean she'd had any plans to live with him.

"My dear, did you think I'd be satisfied with—what is the phrase?—a one-night stand? From now on, you stay with me. If our renewed passion weren't reason enough, I would think Guy's attack demonstrated how vulnerable you are. Of course, I blame myself for that entirely… indulging your childish need for freedom."

"Childish need for freedom!" she screeched, and Max backed away from Simon's hand, whining uncertainly. "You archaic swine, I'll have you know it isn't 'childish' for a woman to want the freedom to—"

"Meghann, you are not unintelligent so I can only assume you are not thinking clearly. Guy Balmont may be dead, but there are plenty of others, some of my own spawn, that are jealous of the way I favor you, who would try to kill you if they discovered you're pregnant. The only way I can keep you safe is to keep you near me. Besides, I told you a long time ago that your home is with me. Now, are you going to behave yourself or do I have to tie you down to keep you here?"

"Why, Simon," Meghann purred, "since when have you needed safety as a reason to tie me up?"

Simon grinned and took her hand, escorting her to a spacious, plant-filled bathroom. "I'll take that sultry look as acquiescence. Wash quickly, darling, and see if you can find in all those rags Vinny stored in your closets an outfit suitable for an evening out."

"My clothes are not rags!" she protested heatedly. "Don't go thinking you can go back to telling me what I can and can't wear. I won't have some overdressed fop dictating my outfits to me."

"Denim and those garish T-shirts do nothing for you. My sweet, have you no idea how lovely you are? When we lived together, I did not insist that you dress elegantly simply to be arbitrary. You are a beautiful woman and I wish to see you in clothes that complement that beauty." Seeing Meghann's eyes soften at the compliment, Simon pinched her cheek playfully and issued one more directive. "Get dressed, little one, and meet me in the bedroom when you're done."

Meghann entered the bedroom a half-hour later. "Do you approve, my lord?" She spun around gracefully, holding her hands away from her body so he could see how the high-necked, sleeveless bronze jersey clung to her lush curves. She knew the dull gold color of the gown brought out the copper highlights in her hair, which she'd placed high on her head in an Edwardian upsweep she knew Simon liked. A pair of oversize gold hoop earrings and the cabochon bracelet he'd just given her completed the ensemble.

"You dazzle me," Simon said. "Now, will this overdressed fop complement you?"

"You'll do," Meghann teased as she inspected the superbly tailored navy suit. Privately, she thought Simon was the best-dressed man she'd ever seen, combining the urbane elegance of his formal wardrobe with that broad-shouldered, powerful form.

"My dear, if you keep looking at me like that, I doubt we'll ever leave this room. But you are too bare to go out."

"Too bare?" she asked in bafflement. "What are you talking about?"

"Your hands, my pet. They are utterly naked." Simon reached behind her ear. "Now what could this be?" He opened his fist.

"Oh!" Meghann gasped at the emerald signet ring.

Simon got down on one knee, holding the ring out to her. "Meghann O'Neill, will you marry me?"

"You… you never asked me to marry you before," was the only thing she could think of to say.

"You never carried my child before. I am old-fashioned enough to want legitimate issue. More important, you defied Alcuin. The only way I can think of to honor you for choosing me over him is by offering you my name. Be my bride, sweetheart."

Her eyes darkened as she stared at the ring, and the man kneeling before her. How much had her feelings changed if she would even consider marrying him? This was it… if she accepted, it made all their time apart and all the things she'd stood for meaningless.

No, Meghann decided. It didn't, it couldn't do that. Admitting she loved Simon Baldevar didn't mean turning her back on all she'd done, on all the people she'd come to love during the forty years they'd been apart… did it?

"Meghann," Simon said when she simply stood and stared at the ring. "Why do you hesitate? Are you frightened?"

"Of course I am. I'm scared of the way you can make me love you, make me forget everyone I ever cared about… make me forget how I promised to honor Alcuin's code. I don't want Alcuin to be right—you can't leave me with nothing."

"Of course I can't. I wouldn't want to. Listen to me. I think your morals are foolish, but I am not going to force anything upon you. All I want is your love and loyalty. Give me that and you may keep your ideals… the ones that nosy cleric said I'd steal away. Keep your friend Charles… you may even continue to work on healing Jimmy Delacroix if you feel you have some obligation to him." Simon smiled at her openmouthed shock. "Now, will you marry me?"

"Why are you letting Jimmy live?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Would you prefer I did not?" Under his soft tone, Meghann caught the edge to his voice and knew Jimmy might be dead in the next few minutes if she didn't drop the subject. He had said she could continue to work on healing Jimmy—his reasons for that would remain his own. Simon never allowed anyone, even her, to be privy to his thoughts or motives, never let anyone get too close to him. Maybe this marriage proposal was a small step toward changing that; maybe as her husband Simon would share more of himself with her.

"What happens after Jimmy recovers?" Meghann asked. Was Simon only offering her this sop because he thought Jimmy was beyond help?

"You will tell him all that has happened between us—or I will. I rather doubt he'll still wish to remain with you after that. Not that it should matter to you… if you love me."

"I do love you."

"Then why do you hesitate?" Simon held out the ring again.

Meghann reached out to stroke his thick, elegantly waved hair. "I'll marry you," she said softly, pushing from her mind the thought of what Charles would say. Would he hate her now? If the shoe were on the other foot, she wouldn't turn him away. Please, she prayed. Please let me somehow keep Charles's friendship.

"Come along, child," Simon said, distracting her from her worry. "If we are to be married, you must purchase a ring for me."

"No," she said and smiled, determining that if she was going to do this crazy thing, it wouldn't be a halfhearted gesture. "There's a perfectly good ring for you right here." She went over to the bureau, and plucked her father's ring from the ivory jewelry box where Simon had carefully set it down the night before.

She turned back to him, the plain gold wedding band extended toward him in her outstretched hand. "I wouldn't have this ring or my life or my child's life if it wasn't for you. I can't think of any better way to put the past behind us and show you how much I love you than by giving you my father's ring. I know it's not very expensive or elaborate but it would mean a lot to me if you wore it."

Simon blinked rapidly, and then pulled her to him in a bone-crushing embrace. His voice sounded husky when he told her, "I would be honored." She wondered if she heard tears in his voice, but then he pushed her away and his eyes were clear. He smiled and said, "Your father would approve, Meghann. He wanted me to marry you."

"How can you know that?" she asked. "You only met my father once."

"As you may recall, he asked you to leave the room so he could speak to me privately. Once he ascertained that my intentions were honorable, he told me he was quite relieved you'd met someone a bit older… of course, he didn't know how much older. At any rate, he said you were a 'great kid' but high-strung, stubborn, and impulsive. He thought you'd run roughshod over a husband your own age, and ultimately wind up being quite unhappy with a henpecked man. Your father said you needed someone who could love you but be firm when you needed it." Simon grinned and took her arm. "Now, isn't it fortunate we're in Las Vegas? The marriage license bureau is open until midnight—yes, we're having a legal ceremony."

"No justice of the peace or Elvis impersonators," Meghann protested, and Simon laughed, nodding his agreement. "Wait—I know the perfect place! That rustic little chapel next to the Sands? Do you know it?"

"The Church of the West—of course I know it," he replied. "It's a lovely choice, sweetheart."

Simon smiled and linked his arm through Meghann's. She smiled back, thinking Alcuin had to be wrong—it would be impossible to fake the soft hap piness shining in those gold eyes. And no blood link or clever manipulation would be able to make her feel thrilled, nervous, cautious, bold, and utterly secure all at once. That feeling, Meghann knew, only came from being in love.