Free Be Mine Tonight by Kathryn Smith Page A

was—but he didn’t want to think that Temple could shield himself so perfectly, not from him. He couldn’t help but think that if Temple were in the area, he would somehow make himself known. Even if he was shielding himself, surely he could sense Chapel’s presence?
    A comforting hand clapped his shoulder. “I know you do not want to fight him, mon ami. I pray it does not come to that. Temple has sacrificed much to protect the False Grail. I would hate to have him sacrifice his very self as well.”
    Chapel glanced away. “Especially to me, of all people.”
    The fingers on his shoulder tightened. “It was not your fault. You did not force the others to drink.”
    “No.” But he had foolishly taken the first drink and he had known the others would follow. They never allowed one of them to do something without taking the same chance themselves.
    He would fight Temple if he had to, but only if it was the Blood Grail in the cellar. Despite Molyneux’s thoughts, the treasure in that hillside just might be the one Pru sought.
    He would keep hoping that, because he would much rather see triumph on Prudence Ryland’s face than be forced to kill his oldest friend.

Chapter 6
    D inner was a painful affair. Chapel enjoyed every morsel of food, but it was the people around him who most appealed to his hunger, a fact that shamed him, given that he’d begun to know and like many of them. Molyneux had given him a vial of his blood just before dinner to pour into his wine, but Chapel hadn’t a chance to do so just yet.
    “How long have you lived in Paris, Mr. Chapel?”
    It was Pru who asked. Molyneux was right about her looking healthy and well, for which he was thankful. Unfortunately, her presence at the time was the most disconcerting of them all as the sweet, warm scent of her made his fangs twitch.
    About six centuries, give or take a few decades hereand there. He couldn’t very well tell her that. “It seems I’ve lived there forever, Miss Ryland.”
    Her sister Matilda, who was there with her husband, smiled dreamily. She was a lovely woman with ginger hair, hazel eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose.
    “Frederick and I went to Paris last summer. I simply adore the cafés there. I got so fat!”
    Everyone at the table laughed, so Chapel chuckled with them.
    “You must find our little village very rustic compared to Paris, Mr. Chapel.”
    His gaze fasened on Pru once more. God, but she was a lovely little thing. A few weeks of eating too much cake and she’d be soft in his hands and melt on his tongue.
    He had to get Molyneux’s vial into his wine, otherwise he was going to start slathering like a damn dog—or worse, a werewolf, disgusting creatures.
    “I find this place very charming, Miss Ryland. Forgive me, I seem to have dropped my napkin.”
    Under the guise of retrieving the pristine linen from the carpet, he thumbed the top off the vial Molyneux had given him and swallowed the contents in one quick gulp. The vial then very quickly went back inside his jacket before he straightened in his seat.
    No one was watching him, an oddity that came as a bit of a shock. Both he and Molyneux had been treated as curiosities since their arrival and it was a welcome reprieve to discover that their novelty was finally wearing off.
    It also gave him a chance to do some watching of his own.
    Prudence was seated across the table from him, three chairs to his right. Her vibrant hair was styled in an elegant twist, leaving the sculpted lines of her face open to his appreciative gaze. The soft light and the rich violet of her gown lent a rosy hue to her cheeks and a bright gleam to her hazel eyes. Certainly he must have seen women just as lovely in the course of his long, long existence, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him.
    “Mr. Chapel?”
    It was Prudence’s father who spoke. Damn. He probably wanted to roast him for staring at his daughter like a dog after a bone.
    “Yes, sir?”
    Thomas Ryland