Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles Read Online Free PDF

he had Verity safely on his arm before he turned and walked away with her. He breathed deeply as they entered the queen’s rose garden and shook off the oppressive heat of the packed great hall.
    “I was seeking you, in fact,” Verity murmured.
    “I’m glad to hear it. That was not the safest place for you to be wandering around.”
    She stopped walking. “Do you think I am the kind of woman who likes to flaunt herself in front of a hall full of drunken men?”
    He glanced down at her indignant face, aware that somehow he’d erred again. “I didn’t say that.”
    “But you thought it, because poor little Verity can’t keep away from men, can she?”
    “I didn’t think that at all.” He studied her carefully. “Why would anyone imagine that of you?”
    “Are you pretending that you haven’t heard my sad story?”
    “I haven’t seen you for ten years, my lady. When I left, you seemed quite well.”
    She made a huffing sound and started walking again. Rhys caught her elbow and made her stop. “After rousing my curiosity, aren’t you going to explain yourself?”
    “When I now feel ridiculous for assuming you would know or care to know anything about me?”
    Rhys felt as if he were creeping through marshland blindfolded and liable to sink at any moment. “Do as you wish, my lady.”
    Her blue eyes held such a mixture of pain and exasperation that he couldn’t look away. She bit down on her full lower lip and the sight made him all too aware of her, the honey scent emanating from her skin, her hair streaming down her back. He wanted to plunge his hands into that glorious hair and gather her close.
    She frowned up at him. “Why are you staring at me?”
    “Because you are beautiful.”
    “You sound surprised.”
    He ran his fingers lightly along the line of her jaw. “I always thought you were pretty, but you have blossomed into a true beauty.”
    She jerked her head away from his touch and he felt suddenly foolish. What was it about her that made him utter such nonsense? Was it because she reminded him of home and of the self he’d lost along the way? He lowered his hand and tried to recollect what he had wanted to say to her. “Why did you seek me out?”
    “I . . .” Her fingers brushed her chin where his hand had just been, as if she missed his touch. “I am concerned about the queen. I wanted to speak to you about her.”
    He noticed a bench beneath an arbor of climbing roses and guided her toward it. He waited until she sat and smoothed out her skirts and then sat beside her. “What happened?”
    “I was helping put the queen to bed when I distinctly smelled Vampire.”
    Rhys stilled. “You can smell them?”
    “Of course.” She gave him a puzzled look. “The males smell like animals and the females like plants. This Vampire smelled like a male, but there were no males present apart from the queen’s chaplain and I’m quite sure it couldn’t be him.”
    Rhys continued to study her earnest face. “Can all Druid women smell Vampires?”
    She looked away from him for a moment. “I think so.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Well, I can.” She raised her chin at him. “Can Rosalind?”
    “Aye, but I thought it was because she was a trained slayer and bore the mark of Awen. Mayhap it is because you are both Llewellyns.”
    Verity nodded. “That might be true. Our family does have some special gifts.” She touched his hand. “The queen looks ill. I told Jasper many times that I was concerned for her, but he told me I was worrying about nothing, that women who are expecting are often unwell.”
    “That sounds like Jasper. It was always hard to convince him of anything.”
    “But it is not just her condition. If there are signs of a Vampire in the queen’s bedchamber, we have a right to be concerned.”
    “Indeed we do.” Rhys contemplated their joined hands and felt a marked reluctance to let her pull away.
    “Do you smell that?” she whispered.
    “What?”
    Verity sat up straight