Maggie Shayne: Weddings from Hell

She stroked his jaw with her fingers, her chest pressed against his. He could feel the beating of her heart, even through the layers she wore. It tripped in time with his own.

"Promise me you'll leave," she whispered. "Just this once, do what I ask of you and run."

The tightness in his throat returned, but he ignored it. He didn't want to leave her. Didn't know if it was safe, but she would be in more danger with him there. "Only if you promise to chase me as soon as you can."

Violet's head lifted. An expression of wonder softened her lovely, round face. Tears shone in her eyes. "I'll chase you."

He kissed her. "I'll make sure you catch me."

And that was all he could allow himself to give her for now.

Letting Payen go took all the trust Violet had and then some. She trusted him with her very life, but trusting him to allow himself to love her was another story.

She loved him, but after his sudden departure five years ago she was reluctant to trust him with her heart again. Knowing him, he'd run somewhere she couldn't follow, and claim it was for her own good.

His belongings were packed and already sent on to London where he would board a ship for the continent. Once it was safe, Henry, Eliza, and Violet would leave as well, dodging the scandal Violet had brought down upon them. Payen would come for her in Italy. Eliza was sure to disapprove, but Violet had to follow her heart.

They said their good-byes in the library, where the french doors opened onto the garden. They had no close neighbors, but the seclusion of the garden would help ensure that no one happened to see Payen leap into the sky like a giant bat—that was how rumors got started.

"I don't like running like a coward," Payen said. "I want to stay and fight."

Henry clapped him on the shoulder. "I know you want to protect us, my friend, but we've agreed that it's safer for all of us if you go. Neither Eliza nor I want to see anything happen to you, and I know how you would feel should anything happen to either of us." His gaze skipped to Violet. "Or someone else."

Violet blushed under the knowing stare of both her guardians, but most of all she blushed because Payen was looking at her the way she had always wanted him to—like a woman he didn't want to leave.

"Stay away from Villiers," Payen warned her—as though she hadn't planned to do just that. "He may think you know where I am and use you to get to me."

Violet swallowed. Before she wouldn't have thought Rupert capable of such underhandedness, but his visit earlier had shown her a man different from the one she thought she had known.

And it made her wonder—had he or someone close to him known of her connection to Payen before this? Was Payen the reason Rupert proposed to her in the first place? How ironic that would be, since spite against Payen was the reason she'd accepted Rupert's suit.

"Are you certain it's safer with you gone?" Even though it had been her idea, she was having second thoughts.

Payen took one of her cold hands in his much larger warm one. "Yes. Villiers and the Order would most certainly use you against me if I remained."

"I thought you said there wasn't much of the Order left."

"I've heard there are still little pockets here and there across Europe. But all it takes is one person to rekindle interest in the old ways, the old beliefs. One person to say they've found a Templar vampire and then all Hell breaks loose."

"What do they want from you?"

"Revenge. Power. Revenge for the Templars interfering centuries ago, and the power they believe is their right."

Violet watched as something darkened Payen's sherry eyes. His face tightened as his head came up, turned toward the door. She followed his gaze. The doorway, which had been empty, now had a figure standing at its threshold. Several figures actually, but it was the one up front that caught her attention.

"Rupert." Damnit. They hadn't been fast enough.

Her former fiancé smiled coolly. "Going somewhere, Carr?"

Payen shrugged, appearing nonchalant, but the hand that kept Violet at his side was anything but relaxed. "I did what I came to do."

"Ah yes." The younger man pressed his hands together as he placed one booted foot inside the door. "You ruined my wedding."

"Happy to have done it," came the smooth, taunting reply. "Violet deserves better than your kind."

Rupert laughed. "I'm not sure the vicar would agree with you."

Payen held his gaze. His face was void of emotion—Violet had never seen him so shut down, so empty. "The Vicar knows only his own ignorance. True evil often wears a human face."

"Monsters always say that." Rupert shook his head. "You know, before you showed up, I had no idea about the history of the Silver Palm? I owe you a great debt in regards to my education. If you hadn't spouted off as you had, I would have assumed you and Violet had been lovers and nothing more. Imagine my surprise when I told several friends in the Order what you had said."

For the first time a frown creased Payen's brow. He blamed himself for this, that was obvious. "I would imagine they were more than eager to 'educate' you."

"Oh they were. They were." Rupert chuckled. "I almost didn't believe the fantastic tale they told me. In fact, I came here to discuss it with you last evening—and then I saw you leaving Violet's bedroom." He shot a condemning glance at her, but it was the surprise on Eliza's face that cut more. "I saw you fly, and I knew then that my brothers had been right."

Payen's jaw tightened. Violet could almost hear him cursing himself for being so careless. She wrapped her fingers around the tight fist he held clenched at his side and squeezed. He spared her the briefest of glances, but the warmth there was all she needed.

"What do you want, Villiers?" It was Henry who asked. Stern, brave Henry.

Rupert kept his attention on Payen. "The Blood Grail. Where is it?"

So that was it, Payen realized as he tried putting Violet's body behind his. They wanted the chalice of eternal life—a cup imbued with the essence of Lilith, demoness and the mother of all vampires. He could only suppose that Villiers wished a taste of immortality for himself.

"I have no idea." That was only half a lie. He knew the Grail to be in the possession of the men who stole it from the Templars on the fateful October day more than six hundred years earlier, but beyond that he knew nothing except that it was safe. His friend Father Molyneux, a young French priest, had been chosen by the few remaining Templars to watch over the vampires and the Grail, though the young man knew little more than he had to. He wasn't about to tell this little miscreant who those men—vampires—were.

"Well then," Villiers began, lifting a pistol. "I shall just have to take you instead, Mr. Carr."

Payen laughed out loud. "You think so, little man?"

Villiers scowled. "I have silver bullets in this pistol." He nodded at the men behind him. "Go."

Payen tensed but the men didn't come for him. They went for Eliza and Henry instead, and when Payen moved to help them, the barrel of Villiers' pistol drifted to point at Violet. Two men came to take her as well. He could smell her fear as they flanked her.

They all had pistols—pistols trained on him, his friends, and on Violet. Being shot would hurt him, but even he wasn't fast enough to save the other three. At least one of them would die.

God help him, he would save Violet if he could, sacrificing his friends to do it.

A shot rang out. Payen jerked to the left and felt the hot metal whiz past his ear. He could tell from the smell of it exactly what it was. Silver shot. Villiers hadn't lied. Silver could be fatal to a vampire if it pierced the right organ—like the brain or the heart.