Free The Passion by Donna Boyd

with a tray fil ed with dishes. "You see? I told you she was bright."
    Gault replied, "There is a difference between intel ect and cunning, monsieur. You wil rue the day."
     
    Alexander turned back to her, his expression sanguine. "Yes, my dear, I am displeased. And you're right again—I probably won't eat you or kil you for it. But surely you don't expect me to just forget the incident."
    Tessa took a deep breath, faced him bravely, and said, "I expect to be dismissed, monsieur."
    For a moment he did not react at al . Then he gave a half-stifled grunt of laughter and raised his glass for a sip. "Did you hear that, Gault? A servant tries to kil her employer and she expects to be dismissed. Yes, I would agree that's a reasonable expectation, wouldn't you?"
    "And then we wil skin her, n'est-ce pas !"
    Alexander smiled, watching Tessa while he sipped his wine. "I'm thinking it over."
    In a moment Gault finished stacking the dishes onto a cart and left the room. Alexander must have seen the tension drain from her shoulders and arms when Gault was gone, because it wasn't until then that he chose to speak.
    "You seem unsurprised by what you've experienced," he observed.
    Tessa's nerves were worn raw by Gault's gibes and Alexander's indifferent cruelty, and she stil could not venture a guess as to what her eventual fate might be. Anxiety and frustration were her courage, and without intending to speak at al she retorted,
    "As do you, monsieur!"
    He lifted an eyebrow. "Thank you. While I must admit being stabbed in the chest with a kitchen knife is not a common occurrence in my experience, I like to think I've taken it with some aplomb. You, on the other hand, cannot claim to witness every day such as you've seen these past hours."
    Tessa's curiosity could not be contained another moment. "Why didn't you die?" she blurted out.
    Again an eyebrow twitched expressively. "Do I detect a hint of bitterness in the question?"
    "No, please, I only…" But when she saw the twinkle in his eyes she drew a breath, composed herself, straightened her shoulders and continued. "I only meant that your attitude has been… cavalier since you recovered. It was as though you knew you couldn't be harmed. Is it true, then? Are you—are such as you—invincible?"
    "Wel , if I were not, I would be a fool to tel the woman who just tried to kil me, wouldn't I?"
    He regarded her thoughtful y for a moment, and under his gaze she felt vulnerable, naked, yet at the same time oddly empowered, as though the mere fact of his regard gave her importance. And then, abruptly, he said, " Alors, chérie , enough sparring.
    You intrigue me. I wil answer your question if you wil answer mine."
    Tessa had no idea which question he referred to, but she nodded cautiously anyway.
    He said, "I am not invincible. Your aim was bad, that's al . We have rapid recuperative powers, but that marvel ous nonsense that mythology loves to bandy about—the silver bul et, the stake through the heart—it is, alas, mere romance. If I make light of the incident, it's only because my life was never in any real danger… unless, of course, you consider the very real possibility that I might have died of embarrassment. You bested me, and that's humiliating. And personal y unforgivable, of course.
    Now, satisfy my curiosity. You said you knew what I was. What is it exactly that you know, and how did you come to know it?"
    Tessa wet her lips, and for a moment—no more—
    debated the truth in her head. She decided upon a compromise, and gave her answer in part, cautiously. "I have heard tales of such creatures as yourself, and I've believed them in my heart. I was not surprised to know these tales were true. But to believe the stories, and to see with one's own eyes what I have seen…" She struggled with the words, pressing one clenched hand against her heart and summoning forth her best French. "Such a wonder makes surprise seem like a smal thing indeed, and
    —and the miracles of old but pale