Free The Passion by Donna Boyd Page B

"She wil be somewhat difficult to impress since she, you see, is one of us."
    Tessa simply stared at him for a moment. The comment about cutting out her tongue was lost in the revelation about the Comtesse.
    "I knew about you," she said softly, and mostly to herself. "But… others…" She looked at him in bewilderment, feeling humble.
    His smile was smal and condescending. "So you do have something to learn after al ."
    Tessa was breathless with the scope of it al .
    "Of course," he said, "I shouldn't want you to think I am entirely representative of al my species. I am far superior to most, you understand…" The sparkle in his eyes was ful of charm and Tessa melted into it, as had no doubt many others before her. "But, to be perfectly honest, I have also been cal ed indolent and reckless and…" He shrugged as he finished off the wine in his glass. "Outrageous. For which you may be grateful, by the way. If I were not somewhat outrageous I would probably be a great deal less kindly disposed toward you now. My tolerance toward humans is one of the things for which I am most frequently criticized, you see."
     
    Tessa said earnestly, "I'm glad."
    He regarded his empty glass briefly, then swung his feet to the floor. "And now, my curious little kitten, if I have answered al your questions sufficiently…" He cast a questioning look at her, and she nodded hesitantly. He stood and crossed the room, retrieving another bottle of wine and a dish of confections from a silver tray on the bureau.
    "Perhaps you wil be good enough to answer one of mine. Why in the devil did you come at me with a knife? What can I have ever done to deserve such treatment? I don't even know you."
    Although his tone was mild and his expression was pleasant, Tessa sensed the confusion behind the question, a touch of what might even be considered hurt. It was the insult that concerned him more than the assault, the reason more than the result.
    Tessa's shoulders tensed, and the words dried up in her throat. She had known the moment was coming, but she was not prepared to deal with it. She did not want to give him the answer he sought; she did not even want to think about it, for despite al else, this one thing had not changed.
    Stil , the truth was there and she had to say it. If for no other reason, she owed that to the man whose death she had sought to avenge; she owed it to herself.
    She spoke in a clear steady tone, watching him careful y, trying to make herself understand now what she had never thought to question in al these years. "You kil ed my father."
    "What?" Outrage sharpened his features and he snatched away the dish of candies he had been about to offer her, tossing it carelessly onto a marble-topped table.
    The dish shattered, and glass and chocolate showered like sparkling confetti across the floor.
    "That is a pernicious lie! I've never kil ed a human in my life! Not," he added, frowning with brief remembrance as he fil ed his glass, "that I haven't been tempted to dispatch a few."
    He tasted the wine, seemed to find it satisfactory, and paused for a moment to let its flavor do its soothing work upon his temper. He crossed the room for another dish of candies, selected a marzipan, and appeared to enjoy that taste in a similar fashion.
    In a moment, his good humor apparently restored, he returned to the sofa and arranged himself upon it, crossing one knee upon the other and stretching out an arm across the cushioned back. He regarded her with little more than casual interest now.
    "Who was this father of yours that I am supposed to have kil ed?" he inquired.
    Tessa pressed her fingers together in her lap. "His name," she said, "was Stephen LeGuerre."
    His face went very stil . His eyes appeared to darken with the slow dilation of his pupils as he looked at her. The wineglass, half raised to his lips, did not move.
    "Stephen?" he said in a near whisper. "You're Stephen's daughter?"
    ., He moved suddenly and with the swiftness of a panther, so