Chapter Twenty-nine

Bryn still couldn't get over the private jet. She'd never expected to see one up close, let alone ride in it. Since they'd reached cruising altitude and their drinks had already been served, the flight attendant was up front talking to the pilots...leaving Anton and Bryn alone in the cabin. Sabryn stood up, walking towards the front of the plane to look at the open space. With all of the seats removed, save four, the remaining space was huge.

"You could play football in here!" she exclaimed. "This is so cool! I had an uncle who had his own plane, but it wasn't a jet. It was a prop plane, and my mom refused to let me and John go in it." She shook her head. "But this is way better than a clunky old prop plane. I think we should buy it," she said, with a grin.

Anton grinned as well. "Well, maybe not this one, my dear. But if you want it, I'll buy you a whole fleet of jets." He loved watching Bryn experience things for the first time. It was almost as if he were experiencing it for the first time also. "So what would you like to see first when we arrive, my dear?"

"Hmm...castles! The Tower of London and Big Ben. The Tower Bridge. Maybe some antique and art stores?" She gave him a giddy grin. "I'm sure I'll find a bunch more to look at when we get there. And I can't wait to see where you lived and hear what you did then."

"We'll do it all, my dear, and more." Anton bent down to brush his lips against hers. "We've got a few days in London, and then it's off to Paris, Barcelona, Monaco, Munich, Rome, Venice, and then back home." He took her hand. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know about my past Bryn, but I've got to warn you that some of it may be difficult to deal with, for both of us."

Lacing her fingers with his, she smiled. "I've got you now and forever. That's all I'm worried about." With a more serious expression, she added, "But if you have a hard time with anything, don't bottle it up on my account. I'll try to help you if I can, and if not I'll give you whatever privacy you need."

"I appreciate it, my dear." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "It's that some things I haven't thought about in a long time. It may get a little... emotional for me at times."

"I know. They still live there, even if you can't see them."

"In Europe, or in my head?"

"Both. And your heart. I wouldn't ask you to stop feeling for them anymore than you'd ask me to stop feeling for my family. It's the same thing. They may not be here anymore, but they're still your family." She blinked away a rising moisture from her eyes. "You'll love them for the rest of your life."

He reached out and wiped the tear away from the corner of her eye. "Thank you for understanding, Bryn." He then pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I love you so much, my dear. And I know you know it, but I've still got to say it. Just because I still have feelings for them doesn't mean I love you any less. You're the first one I've considered spending eternity with, and if I'm lucky, I will."

She laughed self-consciously as she blinked away more tears. "You will...hopefully I won't be an emotional basket case for eternity, too."

"It'll go away in six months or so...or about that."

She giggled again, wiping her face dry. "You know, I've always had a strong feeling that I lived in England for a short time in a past life. During the Middle Ages. Either I was married there or born there...not sure. Does that sound crazy?"

He gave a little laugh. "No, my dear. I've seen stranger things." He stroked her hair back from her face. "I wouldn't be surprised at all."

Walking out of the cockpit, the flight attendant said, "I can serve dessert now, if you'd like."

Immediately perking up, Bryn said, "Dessert?"

The woman smiled. "Key lime cheesecake or eclairs."

Bryn's jaw dropped. "I'll have both."

Laughing, Anton ordered as well. Once the woman went to the back to prepare the desserts, Bryn turned to Anton once more.

"We *have* to get one of these jets!"

He woke up alone in their bed.

Nathaniel looked around, trying to figure out where Lindy was. Her side of the bed was still slightly warm. The fact that he hadn't heard her get out of bed worried him. She had been so weak earlier, she could have tried to go downstairs and fallen...

He sighed when he heard the shower shut off. He hadn't even noticed the sound of falling water in the background. As he sat up, Lindy walked out of the bathroom, towels wrapped around her body and turban style around her hair. Aside from being a little pale, she looked like she was back to normal. "Lind?"

She sat down on the side of the bed. "What, Nate?"

"You're... better. I mean you looked like you were ready to die yesterday."

"Oh, that." She started unwrapping her still damp hair. "It's normal to recover this fast. I just had to get the poison out of my system. Problem was that I'd heal a bit, and then crash again because I still had antifreeze in me."

He let out a sigh, standing up. Walking over to her, he kissed her mouth for the first time in three days. He moaned, pulling her closer when she opened her mouth. His hands cradled her face, trembling slightly.

"I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am that you're feeling better." He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I was worried about you, gorgeous." He glanced at the open bathroom door. "Although, it might've been nice if you'd woken me up so I could join you in the shower."

"Oh trust me, you wouldn't have wanted to. Do you have any idea how nasty I smelled?" She grinned as he laughed, holding her tighter. "Besides you needed your sleep. I don't remember much, but it seemed that you were hovering over me no matter what time it was." She kissed him, before pulling away. "Oh my God! I forgot! How's Bryn?"

"She's fine. I think they were both a little shaken up by it, but they're safe for now." He leered at her. "You, on the other hand, are anything but."

"Oh am I?"

"Yeah." He pulled her back to the bed, nipping at her lower lip. "I've heard there's a big, bad vampire lurking around here somewhere."

"Really? Is he going to suck my blood?"

"No..." He slowly pulled the towel away from her body. "But he's gonna suck a few other things." Guiding her to lay down on the bed, he took his place beside her. "Ah, gorgeous, you had no idea how I was afraid I'd never have a chance to do this again." One hand slid over her stomach, thumb brushing the curve of her breast as he leaned over and wrapped his lips around her nipple.

She gasped, writhing below him, tangling her fingers in his hair. There had been a moment or two when she'd been just as scared as he had. When she felt so violently ill that all she wanted to do was die. And it made her wonder if being Transformed by her husband now wasn't such a bad idea.

He continued sucking at her, lapping his tongue against her skin, and she was absolutely sure that she wanted him to do this for the rest of their lives. His touch was so tantalizing, electric. She shuddered, opening her legs a bit, and sighed as she was rewarded with his hand slipping lower down her torso. He teased her pubic hair with his fingers, barely brushing them over her sex, like the flutter of butterfly wings. And when she arched up against his hand, he withdrew his touch even more. Taunting, driving her insane.

She let out a low whimper of frustration, and Nate smiled. His hand continued to just barely brush her sex. Lindy's hands slid down and started tugging at the T- shirt he was wearing. "And you accuse me of wearing too many clothes, Nate."

He smirked at her. "Let me take care of that." Flicking his tongue at her nipple one last time, he got up, kneeling between her legs and pulled off his shirt. He backed off the bed and shimmied out of the sweats he had on. Lindy released another whimper when she saw how hard and ready he was. She spread her legs wider in encouragement.

He moaned, staring at her. "My God, you're beautiful. You look like a piece of art lying there."

"Oh yeah, with my legs spread."

"Especially like that." He knelt on the bed, opening her further, his eyes dilating at the sight before him. "So sexy." Cupping his hand over her sex, he felt the heat of her and grinned "Pink and shiny, like a beautiful sea shell." He rolled a dribble of moisture beneath his fingers. "Glistening." He lightly brushed her clit with his thumb, making her squirm. "Even a delicate pearl inside."

She continued to whimper as he repeatedly brushed his thumb lightly across her clit. "God, Nate! I need more, please!"

Nathaniel shushed her softly. "You'll get it, baby, and more." Teasingly, a finger circled her entrance before sliding in to the first knuckle. Slowly moving his finger in a corkscrew motion, he made his way deeper inside of her. "God, you're so hot and wet and tight."

She gasped, moving against his finger, pressing herself more firmly against his thumb. Biting her lip, she bucked against his hand, her body writhing on the bed. He smiled at her, working in another finger, making her cry out loud.

"Nate, please!"

"All right, gorgeous." He pulled his fingers out of her, popping them in his mouth to suck them clean. He moaned, and then leaned over to kiss her deeply. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him close as pushed his cock inside of her. He felt her body jerk beneath him and grinned down at her. "You have no idea how much I've missed this."

She nuzzled his neck, her hips moving in counter rhythm to his hips. Keeping one hand tangled in his hair, her other hand stroked up and down his back, nails lightly scraping against his soft skin. "I love you so much, Nate."

"Mmmm." He kissed her again, stroking his thumbs against her cheeks. "I love you too, Lind. I'm never going to let anything like that happen to you again. I promise."

She smiled luminously at him, kissing him again as he leisurely moved inside of her. Her hands moved down to cover his ass, her fingers splayed across the flexing muscles. She panted, lifting her thighs. He felt delicious moving inside of her. And when he started thrusting harder and deeper, she could feel little tingles moving up and down her spine.

He began kissing her neck. It was so tempting to bite down, to drain her of her blood and feed her his own, Transforming her. To make sure she'd never be in danger of dying that way again. He caressed her breasts, pushing into her harder. Moving from her neck to her lips, he kissed her hard, feeling the tingling at the base of his spine explode throughout his body.

He let out a loud groan as he came, rapidly shoving himself inside of her, pressing his pelvis down hard against her clit. After a second or two of the intense stimulation, Lindy cried out and shuddered beneath him. She whimpered with each successive aftershock, moving her hips with his, her arms wrapped tightly around his back. His thrusts slowed until he was finally motionless, collapsed on top of her, his breath stirring the hair above her ear.

Teasing the bottom of her thighs with his fingers, he whispered against her ear. "You feel so good, gorgeous. I think we should stay here all day," he paused to kiss her mouth briefly, "and all night."

"Mmmm." Lindy stretched underneath him then snuggled her head against his neck. "It sounds good, but I'm starting to feel awfully hungry."

"Can't have that, gorgeous." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I guess if we have to, we can go downstairs and raid the fridge."

As he got off of the bed, she noticed that he was looking rather pale. "Nate, when was the last time you left the house?"

"When we went to the wedding." Reaching for his sweats, he said, "Why?"

"You need to go feed, don't you?"

He pulled the sweats up all the way and stood, turning around to face her. He yawned. "Yeah, I should, now that you're feeling better."

"You need to take better care of yourself." She sat up. "It wouldn't do me any good if you got sick too."

Bending down to kiss her, he caressed her cheek again with his thumb. "Honestly, I didn't even notice it until you said something. I'm fine." Pulling her onto her feet in front of him, he said, "Now, hurry up and get dressed. I bet Mom will be more than happy to see how much you've improved."

Lindy kissed him lightly and then walked over to the dresser. "You know Nate, I never thought I'd hear you say that to me," she commented as she pulled out a pair of underwear, and old cotton bra, and faded jeans for her

He frowned, not understanding. "Say what?" he asked as he pulled his sweats back on.

She finished hooking the bra and turned to look back over her shoulder at him, grinning. "Hurry up and get dressed."

Nate threw his head back and laughed. "Don't get used to it, gorgeous."

They finished dressing, Lindy putting her hair up in a ponytail. Arms around each other's waist, they went downstairs. They found Jess sitting on the couch in the living room, cooing baby talk into Petunia's ears. Jess looked up and smiled. "Hey, you look a lot better."

Lindy walked over to her mother, hugging her as she stood up. "Thanks for coming out here, Mom."

"Just because you're married now doesn't mean I stop trying to take care of you. Both of you." Breaking the hug, Jess smiled at Nate. "Why don't you to rest out here and I'll make us dinner. Oh, that reminds me Nate. Anne stopped by to check up on the both of you and dropped off six units of blood. She assured me it was fresh."

Lindy frowned. "Why didn't Anne come up to say hi then?"

Jess smiled, giving a slight laugh. "You two were busy."

Turning about three shades of red, Nate suddenly had an overwhelming interest in Bryn's dog. As he knelt down to scratch behind the puppy's ears, earning him a lick or two on the nose, Jess gave Lindy a little grin.

"So, I'll be in the kitchen. Oh, and I took care of the dog while you two were sleeping. She's fat and happy, and no longer seems interested in chasing the cat...for now."

Nate cleared his throat before saying, "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome."

Once she was around the corner, Nate gave Lindy a sheepish look. "I tend to forget you two can hear everything." He frowned. "I need to remember that next time I use the bathroom."

"I heard that," Jess called from the kitchen.

Lindy laughed as Nate turned even brighter red. "Stop picking on him, Mom!" She turned back to her husband and sat down on the couch. "She only teases the people she really cares for, Nate. If she's uncomfortable about anything she'll let you know. Trust me."

He pierced open the bag of blood, sitting down on the couch. "Do you mind? I can go do this in another room?"

"No, go ahead."

He watched her for a moment as he lifted the bag to his mouth, ready to get up and move if she showed the slightest amount of revulsion. She couldn't have been any less impressed if he were drinking a beer. Since she didn't mind, he went about feeding as if it were a normal household task.

"You know, I had an idea, Lind." He took another drink, using the bag like a squeeze bottle. "Remember when we were in Hawaii and we discussed getting a place in the country with some horses to ride? What if we got a big place and invited your family to live there, too?"

"Well, I'd love it, but I don't know how Jess, Alex, and Walter would react. Jess was raised around here, and Alex lived out here for a while. But you'd feel okay living so close to the in-laws?"

"It wouldn't be in the same house, so we'd all have some privacy. And I'm talking about some *big* property...around fifty acres or more. We'd definitely be able to find a place outdoors to be alone, too. Your family would have room to run when they needed to, without having to be in the city. And it would be nice to have someone close by if, God forbid, something like this should happen again." He drained the rest of the blood, sucking his teeth clean, and leaned his forearms on his thighs. "I know you miss your family, and I'd like to have some family around me, too."

"Mmmm... that does sound nice." Lindy leaned her head against his bicep. "I think the hard part will be convincing them. Let's talk to Mom about it during dinner." She twisted her head, now resting her chin on his shoulder. "But what about Anton and Bryn? I mean, they're family too."

He thought about it for a moment, hesitant to answer. It wasn't that he didn't want his brother living there...well, maybe he didn't. It was complicated. Much like their relationship. Then again, this might bring them closer. [Or rip us apart again.] He sighed. "It--it's all right with me, Lind, but you get to ask them."

"Why me?"

"You're closer to both of them."

"But he's *your* brother."

"I know. That's exactly why *you're* going to ask them."

"I don't understand. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is this 'thing' we have together, that Anton and I have together, is still new. To both of us. And I don't want to do anything to fuck it up."

"Okay, I'll ask. Maybe they could come down at the weekends at first, see if it's going to work out or not. And it might not be a bad idea. I mean, when Natasha finds out that Bryn's fine, she and her baby will be in danger. But if we were all living together, we could all protect her more easily."

"That's true." He rubbed his chin, scraping over three days worth of stubble. "I'm not all that convinced that Anton's plan is going to work."

"Anton's plan?"

He glanced down at her. "That's right, I haven't told you yet. He called the other day, saying that he had an idea of how to get rid of Natasha. He wants to turn her in to the police, and reveal that she's the 'Vampire Murderer'."

"What?" Lindy sat up straighter to look at him. "Doesn't he know how risky that is? I mean, what if the police don't treat her as a suspect? Or what's to keep her from saying you and Anton are involved as well? And more importantly, what happens if they find out that vampires really exist? No place would be safe for us then."

He rubbed the back of her neck in a massaging motion. "I know, Lind. I have the same exact concerns, but he seems to think it will work. Fortunately, I think I can talk him into waiting until they get back from Europe at least. Maybe by then we can come up with something else. It's too bad there's nowhere we could move that she'd never find us. The woman seems to have a better tracking sense than a bloodhound."

Lindy snorted. "I'll bet she can't differentiate between a field mouse and a lab rat at fifty yards." She smiled when Nate laughed at her joke, just the way she intended it. Lindy patted him on the knee and then stood up. "Come on, let's see if we can help Mom with dinner, and discuss it with her."

Bryn sat impatiently in the black taxi, anxious to get out and explore. In what little of the city she got to see, on the drive from the airport to Anton's estate, there were at least a dozen places she'd like to visit. Tapping her feet on the floor, she let Anton reply to the chatty driver's questions and comments. She was busy, gawking at everything they passed like a slack-jawed tourist...and, somewhat more secretively, she was looking for movie stars. [Ooh, I'd just love to see Jude Law or Ralph Fiennes!]

For at least the fifth time since landing, she turned to Anton and said, "This is so cool!"

Anton laughed. "Wait until you get out of the car, my dear." He leaned back against the seat as they started heading out of London proper.

In a little less than an hour, the car pulled up to a gated estate. After Anton spoke into the speaker, the gates swung wide open and the cab proceeded up the straight driveway to stop in front of a large house. "Is this where you lived?" Bryn asked, eyes wide.

Anton nodded. "From 1702 to 1795." As he spoke, the doors opened and several uniformed servants appeared.

"You have servants?"

"We have servants," Anton corrected. "Actually, they keep the house ready for the most part, waiting for if and when I return. I'm convinced they think I'm Rodchester from Jane Eyre, minus the mad wife, of course."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Or so you think."

She got out of the cab, staring at the enormous house, heart pounding, not even noticing the man who had come to open her door for her. He stopped in his tracks, slightly befuddled, and said, "Welcome to Somerwind Hall, Lady Rudenko."

Finally looking at him, she stared in shock. [I'm a 'lady'?] She couldn't help but laugh. Sobering quickly, she said, "Um...th-thank you."

She glanced back at the stone facade of the manor. This place was hers now. As well as the six other residences Anton owned. [God...] When he'd said he didn't worry about money, she thought that maybe he was a millionaire or something. She never, in her wildest dreams, suspected that he was *this* rich. The place had to have been built in the 17th century, or possibly earlier. It was probably worth more than the houses in Beverly Hills. And the other homes he'd lived in were even older.

Bryn gulped, feeling a little overwhelmed. For some reason, it was a bit scary to acknowledge she'd married such a wealthy man. She hoped other people didn't think she'd only married him for his money. More importantly, she hoped she didn't start taking it all for granted.

As Anton walked around the car and put his arm around her shoulders, she tried to wipe the anxiety off of her face.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's...big."

"I hate to tell you this, my dear, but this is one of the smaller halls. Come on, let's go inside."

"But what about the luggage?"

Anton chuckled. "The servants will take care of that, my dear." He guided her up the stairs and through the door that was being held open for them.

The inside was every bit as opulent as the outside. Furniture from the mid to late 18th century filled the entranceway. "This place looks like a museum."

"Actually it is, or at least a private one." Anton looked around, seeing that everything was well kept. "I'm not here that often, so I allow a few of the smaller companies that arrange tours to bring groups through here at least twice a week. Keeps the servants busy, and helps the local economy."

"But aren't you worried about some of these things getting stolen or destroyed?" She ran her fingers over the top of a side table, which was dust-free and shone with spotless polished brilliance. "If it was me, I'd bring this stuff back to San Francisco with me."

"And if I did that for every house I lived in, my dear, there'd be no room for me to live there." He came up behind her and put his arms around her. "It's all insured anyway, my dear. And I could easily replace any of this furniture, Bryn, but not you. I value relationships more than things, my dear, and you are at the top of that list."

A quiet 'ahem' made them both turn around. An older, slightly balding man wearing a butler's uniform stood waiting patiently by the stairs. "Lord Rudenko, if I may say so, it is good to see you again. And may I inquire if you and Lady Rudenko will be going out this evening."

"No, I believe Bryn and I will be staying in tonight. And it is good to see you also, Owen," Anton said, formal tone matching the servant's. "Bryn, this is Owen Stratford, the senior butler."

She smiled, extending her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Owen."

Instead of shaking her hand, he held it rather regally and bowed slightly. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady."

She blushed a bit. "Uh, you can call me Bryn...I'm not sure if I'll remember to answer to 'my lady'."

The butler glanced at Anton, who had an amused look on his face. "I will see that the staff is informed, Madame."

Her lips quirked at that. "Thank you." She glanced around at the walls, furniture, and floor once more. "You guys sure do a good job at cleaning this place. I've never seen a house so clean. You could probably eat off of this floor."

He cleared his throat slightly. "Thank you, Madame. However, I must say, eating off of the floors is inadvisable."

She smiled, blushing again. "I'm sorry, I'm nervous. I'm not normally this big of a dork...I hope."

Owen gave her a slight nod before returning his attention to Anton. "Do you wish to retire to your quarters, my lord?"

"Yes, Owen." Arm still around Bryn's waist, he fell in step behind the butler, following him up the main stairway to the second floor. Passing several tapestries and guest rooms, they were led to a large set of double doors. The servant pushed the doors open wide, holding them for Bryn and Anton to pass through.

Another huge bed with drapings sat in the center of the room. It was much more ornate than their bed in San Francisco, made out of dark brown wood with swirls and other embellishments carved on almost every surface. Bryn felt a little like she'd stepped back in time. She reached out to touch the shiny surface of the wood, listening absently as Anton dismissed the butler. To be honest, she was a little grateful. She got the feeling that the man didn't like her.

[No kidding...he thinks you're an idiot.]

Once the doors closed and they were alone, she turned to face her husband. "Well, I've successfully made your servants think you married one of the Beverly Hillbillies. I guess my job is done for the day. Maybe tomorrow we can get me some overalls and twangy Southern accent."

"No, my dear. They think nothing of the sort." Anton shook his head and sat down on the bed, patting a spot for Bryn to join him. "Owen's an old school butler, Bryn. I don't think I've ever seen the man smile. And you can speak freely in front of him. He's aware that I'm a vampire." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Besides, let them think what they want. You should only be concerned with what one person thinks of herself. And that would be you."

Bryn blinked at him. "Not you?"

"No, my dear." He placed the palm of his left hand flat against her swelling belly. "You should already know how I feel about you."

"Well, at least one of us likes me right now. I'd rather not be seen with myself." She walked over to the window, looking out at the expansive gardens beyond. "It's a good thing we don't live here all of the time...RuPaul is more of a 'lady' than I am."

"Ah, Bryn, my dear, you are so wrong." He pressed his lips just above her ear. "I'm sorry that I didn't think to give you a crash course of how the servants behave. And actually, I prefer the laid back informality of America myself."

"That's because you have a choice, Anton. I may sound whiny and ungrateful, but I don't belong here. You do. You have that regal presence built into you. You grew up with it, and it's very natural to you. So you can choose whether you want to be Lord Anton or just Mr. Rudenko. I, on the other hand, only know one way to behave. It would take me years to pass for one of those women who wears custom-made designer gowns, drinks tea with her pinkie sticking out, and goes to watch her husband 'play polo with the chaps'. And forget ever meeting the Queen...I'd probably accidentally spit on her while talking."

She sighed heavily, shaking her head in disgust. "The most likely scenario is that all of the other rich nobles would proclaim me 'delightfully American'...when they really mean I'm loud-mouthed and ignorant." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "You'd tell me if I'm an embarrassment to you, wouldn't you?"

"You would never be an embarrassment to me, Bryn." Anton gently stroked her hair. "I would never expect you to act like one those 'other rich nobles,' my dear, because that is not who you are. I fell in love with you, Bryn, and I married you. Not some high society woman in a designer gown, although if you wanted one I would buy you a whole dress shop." He placed a kiss on the top of her head. "The only person whose opinion you should worry about is mine, and that's not such a big concern. I love you for who you are, Bryn."

She turned around to face him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "But what if you need to go to some sort of social function?"

"Then I'll take you along with me. Do you have any idea how amazing you looked that night at the gallery? And you weren't worried about it then, so why worry now?"

She gave him a small smile. "I was a little busy at the time, Anton."

"And you were very beautiful." He held her tight. "Don't worry about 'fitting in,' Bryn. As long as we're together, my dear, we'll make our own place in the world."

The Tower of London had changed since the last time he had been there. But then the last time he had been, there hadn't been electric lights then. Nor had the Tower been a tourist attraction. Anton had also been surprised at how so much had been made of the Tower's supposed hauntings, and Bryn's fascination with them. "So did you see any ghosts, my dear?"

"No...but I would've been more impressed if you had. Then we could check another item off of your 'Things Anton Hasn't Seen, And Therefore Doesn't Believe In' list." She grinned at him. "Although, it was unusually chilly in there. They say that's a good indication of paranormal activity."

"Hmm. They also say that the Loch Ness Monster swims in and out of the lake through a hole connected to the sea, but there's been no proof of that, either."

She sighed. "You sound like my brother. I bet you never believed in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, either."

"Bryn, I was several hundred years old when those superstitions arose."

"Oh, yeah." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I just happen to like believing in things I can't see. Makes life more exciting. After all, other people put their faith in angels. That's not any different than believing in ghosts."

"My life is exciting enough without believing in ghosts, my dear. And on a slightly related subject, I'd like to make a stop before we go home."

"Where?"

"The cemetery where Rebecca is buried."

"All right. Would you mind if we stopped along the way?"

"You don't want to go, do you?"

She grabbed his hand. "No, that's not what I meant. I thought it might be nice if we got some flowers. Did she have any favorites?"

Anton nodded, squeezing her hand. "She loved white roses."

They stopped at a florist who was just about to shut for the evening. They purchased a dozen white roses for the grave, and a single red one for Bryn. From there they went to a quiet country cemetery. He let himself and Bryn in through the old wrought iron gate.

Quietly they walked among the headstones, eventually reaching the older part of the cemetery. Here the headstones were more weather worn, edges crumbling and their engravings harder to read, unlike the fresh cut monuments towards the front of the gate. He stopped by one headstone that was slightly larger than the rest, and knelt down.

Seeing that he was slightly overcome by emotions, Bryn backed away quietly and let him have some privacy. It was hard to see him so sad. But if he needed her, she wouldn't hesitate to come back. Watching him intermittently, she carried her own rose with her, walking down one of the older aisles, reading the headstones there. It was very heartbreaking to see that some of the headstones were crumbling to nothing. Others had occupants who died needlessly, from toothaches and other things that modern science could easily repair.

At the very end of the aisle, there was a plot with no name, no headstone, only a single wooden cross shoved into the ground. It seemed so lonely and hastily put together. As if no one really cared. With one more glance at Anton, to see if he was still okay, she knelt down and placed her own rose on that lonely spot. Maybe that would brighten it up a little.

She wandered back down the aisle to where Anton still crouched. He was still holding the flowers, staring at the headstone. Not sure what else to do, she knelt beside him.

He leaned against her, and softly began speaking. "I met Rebecca about twenty years after I arrived in England, Bryn. She came from an old, but not-so-wealthy family who were delighted at the fact that I was rich. Rebecca herself couldn't have cared less. She was a gentle, tender woman who loved to play a newly invented musical instrument called the piano for hours on end. She passed on after her 72nd birthday, peacefully in her sleep. My beautiful darling was gone, and I moved on." He laid down the bouquet of roses and kissed his fingertips, then pressed them to the headstone.

Bryn wasn't quite sure what to do, or say. She sat silently for a moment, trying to respect his feelings. An impulse made her want to reach out and touch the stone's worn surface, but she pulled her hand back before she actually made contact. It didn't seem right...as if she was sticking her fingers in someone else's wet painting. She wanted to know more; what she looked like, what were her little quirks, had she also thought Anton was her soul mate? But she couldn't bring herself to ask.

Rebecca Rudenko.

After a minute or two of running her gaze back and forth over those words, she couldn't be silent any longer.

"She needs a new headstone, Anton. This one is falling apart."

Anton nodded, putting his arms around Bryn's shoulder. "We'll order it tomorrow evening, my dear." He pressed a kiss into her hair above her ear. "Thank you for understanding, Bryn." He took one last look at the headstone, tears in his eyes. "I think I'm ready to go home."

Bryn nodded and they both stood up. Hand in hand they walked back to the iron gate. He held it open for them to pass through. "Bryn? Where is your rose?"

"Oh yeah, um, I left it with someone else who needed it more than I did."

Anton pulled Bryn to him and hugged her tightly. "I love you, Bryn."

She sat silently in the front left seat of the car, thinking how strange it was to be sitting in what she traditionally knew to be the driver's seat and not have a steering wheel in front of her. She even caught herself pushing her foot down on the floor board every time Anton needed to use the brakes. Deciding that the scenery was more important anyway, she watched the road go by, past the window at her side, until Anton pulled the car into the driveway at Somerwind Hall.

This time she remembered to remain seated until someone opened her door for her. For a moment or two she was tempted to give the man a tip, but she managed to stifle the impulse. Meeting her husband at the front of the car, she took his hand and let him lead her inside the house.

He hadn't said a word on the entire trip back from the cemetery. Too lost in his own thoughts. And since they appeared to be heading up to Rebecca's bedroom, she wasn't exactly feeling very chipper herself. Now, more than ever before, she was reminded that this was another woman's home. That was her banister Sabryn's hand was touching. Her vase on the table in the hall. Her bed, where she'd no doubt made love to her husband every night. It was more than a little daunting.

He started to become more aware of his surroundings as Bryn slowed slightly as they reached the top of the stairs. He was about to ask if something was wrong when it hit him. She was feeling hesitant because this was Rebecca's home, and he was leading her towards what had been Rebecca's bed. This had to be awkward for her, to say the least. "Would you rather we stay in one of the guest rooms for the rest of the time we're here, Bryn?"

If he had been at all hesitant about taking her there himself, she might have agreed to sleep somewhere else. After all, he was the one who would be worrying about betraying the woman's memory. But he seemed more interested in Sabryn's feelings. Shaking her head, she continued walking towards the bedroom.

"No, I was just thinking, Anton. And if want me here with you, I will be. I'll follow wherever you lead me." She lifted his hand to her mouth, pressing her lips to his fingers. "And I mean that literally, and symbolically."

He squeezed her hand and opened the door to the master bedroom, allowing Bryn to enter first. Once inside, he pulled off his jacket, laying it over the back of a chair. "Are you okay, Bryn?" he asked, taking a seat on the bed.

"Yes," Bryn walked over to the bed and sat down beside him. "The question should be, are you okay, Anton? It wasn't my deceased wife we just visited."

"I think I'm okay, Bryn. I, ah, just didn't expect it to be so emotional."

"You still love her, Anton. And I'm okay with that. You wouldn't be you if you didn't still care for her in some way."

He put his arms around her and pulled her close, resting his cheek on her head without saying a word.

She held on to him, silently, rubbing her hand up and down his back. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like to lose a spouse. Probably close to hell on earth. She knew she would probably grieve for the rest of her life, so whatever Anton was feeling had to be nine times worse. Her heart ached for him. She wished there was some way she could tell him that they never really died, that they just moved on, but she was fairly sure he didn't believe in angels, either.

She had to wonder if he was imagining Rebecca as he held her. If he was wishing she were still in his arms. And it was strange to realize that the idea didn't bother her. It was just a fantasy, something that could only hurt her if she let it. But maybe it could be used in a very opposite way. Maybe in pretending she was someone else, just long enough for him to say a final goodbye, she could help begin to heal a heart that had been broken.

"Anton...if you want to hold me...to touch me and pretend that I'm her, I won't mind. I know you love me, and it can't hurt me. I promise."

He sat up, looking her in the eyes, hand cupping her cheek. "What did you say?"

"I know you miss her, Anton, and you still hurt. And I'm secure enough in our love to give you a chance to tell her goodbye one last time."

"You're sure about this, Bryn?" When she nodded, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Slowly he pressed her back against the mattress before taking her lips in a deep kiss. The hand that had caressed her cheek slid between her white blouse and black overcoat to caress her breast.

She let him take the lead, not making any sudden movements that would distract him. If she spoke to him, it would only be in whispers, so he couldn't as easily detect her voice. If she touched him, it wouldn't be quite as bold as she usually was. She wasn't sure what Rebecca had been like intimately, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know. But she would let him maintain his fantasy. She'd do whatever he wanted her to.

She felt a little silly lying there in jeans, such a nineteenth century invention. It felt wrong...but his touch felt very right. She couldn't help moaning into his mouth as he kissed her, moving restlessly beneath his hand.

He continued to kiss her, stroking his thumb back and forth over her nipple. It wasn't Bryn's full breast he caressed, but Rebecca's slight ones. With a slight moan, he pushed up to straddle her, pulling the overcoat off of her and then starting to unbutton her blouse. He kept his eyes closed, conjuring from memory Rebecca's ash blond hair and violet eyes. "My darling," he whispered, a tiny corner of his mind worried about how strong the fantasy was. Pushing the fabric aside, he ran his hands over her breasts lightly, fingers caressing her more than his palms.

She quietly reached behind her and unhooked her bra, sliding it out of the way

quickly to keep from breaking him out of his fantasy. It was a little difficult to see the look on his face, knowing he was thinking of someone else...but she could pretend just as much as he could. As long as she imagined this wasn't any different than any other time they made love, she could still relax and enjoy his touch. She arched up against his hands, whimpering slightly at each pass of his fingers over her sensitive nipples. She bit her lip to keep from calling out his name. Allowing herself just one concession for now, she reached up to lightly touch his face with her fingers. Tracing her thumb across his lips.

He caught her thumb between his lips, flicking his tongue against it. He gave the digit one firm suck before releasing it. He began a series of quick, light nips along her throat, still caressing her breasts. "Unbutton my shirt, my darling."

She did as she was told, sitting up to pull at each of the buttons. As she reached the bottom and started to pull the fabric away, he grasped her hands, tangling his fingers with one, while raising the other to his mouth to lightly nip at her wrist. He'd certainly never done that to her before. She squirmed a bit when she felt how much it tickled. Especially when he soothed the area by bathing it with his tongue.

As he released her wrist, she lowered her hand to lightly trace over his stomach, teasing the light hairs trailing down below his navel, then up to lazily brush his nipples.

Anton moaned. He reached down to shove his jeans down, freeing his cock. His hands then strayed to her thighs, a frown creasing his face when he felt her jeans instead of the skirt of his fantasy. Not struggling to comprehend, he reached for the fly of her jeans, undoing them. Moving to one side, he stripped them and her underwear off of her. Lightly tugging at her, he guided at her until she was laying crosswise on the bed.

His hand resumed caressing her nipple, kneeling between her legs. "Hang on to my shirt, my darling." Feeling her grab onto the fabric covering his shoulders, he pushed her forward until her head and shoulders were hanging off the bed. His weight was on his elbows on the edge, and he tried to support her shoulders the best he could. Then with a sharp twitch of his hips, he stabbed his cock into her.

The loud gasp that escaped her mouth was nothing compared to the shriek she'd been forced to stifle. Although she was hanging on to him, it was impossible to keep herself upright for more than a few seconds with him thrusting inside of her. Surrendering to the moment, she let herself fall backwards, only the grip on his shirt keeping her from sliding down to the floor. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, watching the floor get closer with every thrust. Her hair puddled below her, moving only slightly whenever she thrashed her head.

It felt incredible...but it also felt like all of the blood in her body was rushing to her brain, making her head ache. Her hands were starting to cramp and she wouldn't be able to hang on much longer. Taking a risk, she quickly let go of him and braced her arms on the floor below her. Holding herself up, feeling her breasts bounce with every jolt. She bit her lip, quivering, wanting so badly to scream out his name as the tingling between her legs became more intense.

Feeling her weight no longer being fully supported by him, he freed one arm as continued to thrust. His free hand slipped down her torso, pinching lightly her nipple. He began rotating his hips as his balls drew up tight against his body. "Come for me, my darling!"

She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy as orgasm approached, her head pounding with the strain. He arms were bent, her back almost entirely off the bed, and she couldn't help the sharp cries leaving her mouth with every thrust he made inside of her.

"Maestro," she moaned.

She squeezed him hard with her thighs, leaving him barely able to move, as she felt her arms give out beneath her, and the shockwaves wash over her. And then the tiny stars bursting before her eyes and the pounding of her head ceased to exist as the blackness of unconsciousness pulled her into its embrace.

Anton's eyes snapped open, both from the intensity of his orgasm and from the name she called him. "Bryn?" he said, pulling out of her. Carefully, he lifted her back onto the bed, worried about her fainting spell as well as what she had called him. "Bryn, my dear, wake up." When she didn't respond, he took her shoulders in his hands and shook her. "Wake up, Bryn!"

"Ow! Stop doing that!" She opened her eyes and blinked at him, squinting at the brightness of the nearby lamp. She lifted her hand to her head, scowling. "Damn, my head hurts."

"You fainted."

She blinked a few more times, crawling over to gingerly lay her head on one of the feather pillows. "No wonder, my head is killing me. If I hadn't fainted, I would've collapsed on the floor."

"What did you say to me?"

"I said, my head is killing me--"

"No, earlier. Before you passed out."

She stared at him blankly. "I don't know. What did I say?"

"You called me 'Maestro.'"

Bryn frowned. It didn't sound like anything she'd say. "That's a musical term, isn't it?"

Anton nodded, looking more troubled by the moment. "Literally meaning master, it also refers to playing music majestic and stately. But..."

"But what, Anton?"

"But it was also Rebecca's nickname for me."

"Well, you must have told me that at some point."

"No, I'm sure I didn't."

"Oooh." She softly whistled a few keys from the theme song of The Twilight Zone. "Spooky." When he didn't smile or laugh, she tilted her head to the side. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm not possessed. I couldn't tell you a single thing about her if I tried. Maybe it was just something I saw somewhere in the house, or heard someone here say. Besides, I'm more interested in how you're feeling now. Did that...help," she said, slightly high pitched, "you any?"

Anton nodded, tears coming to his eyes although he was smiling. Carefully, he pulled the covers out from under their bodies and then over them. "Yes, Bryn. For a moment, it was like having her in my arms again..." His voice choked off. [Especially when you called me Maestro,] he thought. [How did she know? I didn't tell her and I'm sure she couldn't have overheard anyone. No one else alive knows!]

"Shhh... Anton." Sabryn put her arms around him, holding him tight. "Let it go, Anton, let it out." She started to rock him as he buried his face in her shoulder. He cried out all the grief he had been holding inside since arriving. She cooed gently in his ear, trying not to think about the troubling question of how she knew Rebecca's love name for him.

End Chapter Twenty-nine