Vampire Cursed by Rachel Carrington Page A

present the Duke of Lehr.”
    Had anyone ever said no to that question? Was it even a question? She swallowed a hysterical giggle. But the moment the Duke approached, all thoughts disappeared.
    Her head tipped back to accommodate the difference in their height, and she stared in open-mouthed appreciation. Shoulder-length hair as black as a raven’s wing fell across snowy white ruffles that dipped inside a snug-fitting ebony waistcoat. His eyes reminded her of the color of the water off the shores of Antigua .
    “Miss Baker?” Hiller cleared his throat in obvious nervousness. Maybe no one had ever stared at his employer for as long as she had.
    Refusing to be embarrassed, Abby summoned a smile while continuing to stare at the face carved with a sculptor’s perfection.  Beautiful.  It was the only word that came to mind to describe the magnificence of the man facing her.
    “It is a pleasure to meet you.  Welcome to my home.” The Duke bowed low and taking Abby’s hand, pressed a kiss against her knuckles.  She shivered at the touch, while his voice mesmerized her—pure silk.
    “Thank you for your hospitality,” she finally managed to say.
    “The pleasure is all mine.  Come. We have much to discuss.”  He placed his hand on the small of her back, and heat spiraled low in her abdomen.
    Entranced, Abby couldn’t think of one eloquent word to say.  To think, thought, that this was the man she would be interviewing intoxicated her. She’d get to sit across from him for at least an hour, hoping she could form a coherent thought.
    “Would you like something to drink? Perhaps a glass of sherry?” The smooth, cultured tones were infinitely polite, charming.  Still, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
    Abby had always been one to trust her instincts, and something told her to ditch the interview and get out of the castle now. This time, she ignored the still, small voice. Right now, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she wanted to be.
    “No, thank you. You have a beautiful home.” Almost as beautiful as you are.
    The Duke smiled. “Thank you. I have to admit,” he poured himself a glass of an amber-colored liquid, “I was beginning to think you were not coming.”
    She checked her watch. “I’m not late.”
    “No, you misunderstand me. I meant it has taken you quite some time to arrange this interview.”
    Her heart seized. “You act like you know me, like you fully intended me to arrange this interview long before I did.”
     “You are correct. I do know you.  You are a reporter, and you’ve come to Castle Lehr because you wish to write about my home, to explore its intricacies, and to discover what lies within its walls.  But much more than that, you’ve come to find what has been missing in your life.”
    Abby stared at him, her eyes narrowing.  He spoke with calm assurance that rattled her.  “I only came to capture the beauty of your home and to interview you. Nothing more. If you’re under the impression I’m here for another reason, you’ve been misled.”
    With pure grace and charm, the man smiled and unfastened his waistcoat.  “Perhaps, but we’ll have plenty of time to clarify that.”
    The nerves had returned, dancing within her stomach like mating butterflies.  “Have you been drinking, Your Grace?”
    The smile remained firmly intact as he extended his hand toward a silk brocade settee.  “Please sit, and I will explain.” He walked across the marble floor, removed his coat, and handed it to Mr. Hiller who still stood like a sentry in the doorway of the great room.
    “I’ll stand, thank you.”
    The Duke inclined his head.  “As you wish.” He gave Hiller a dismissing look then gave her his full attention. “You are a successful writer, but this castle has haunted you for years.  You dream about it at night, about the love you would find within its walls.”  He strolled toward the window, and his linen shirt whispered against broad