SeduceMe(45)

He seemed to process her diversionary tactic to see where she was headed, but didn’t skirt the question. “I was fighting for the British Army during the American Revolutionary War. I’d been selected for a small, specialized regiment because of my skills. Our focus was the American militiamen. They were tricky bastards,” he said, though a hint of respect touched his eyes. “They were due ample credit for their strategic tactics. But I was under the command of a vampire, unbeknownst to me. It was the reason we attacked at night. Villages and backwoods cottages. We were quite good at leaving no stone unturned as we sought our enemy.”

“That must have been a difficult time for you.” She couldn’t picture him as a ruthless killer.

Indeed, he turned away as he said, “I did what was expected of me. But no, I didn’t like it. And because of my disdain for war, I made a few mistakes. One of which got me shot. But before I died, my commanding officer bit me and I became a vampire.”

“Wow. That had to be a shock to the system.”

He turned back to her. “I was livid, but what could I do? I suffered through the first stage of vampirism and I suppose the only thing that eased my conscience around that time was that we were at war, and people get killed during wars. But then, I met a woman, and that changed everything.”

“Oh.” Her gaze wavered.

He reached a hand out to her and grazed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “It wasn’t like that. She was older and a widow. She’d lost her husband and her sons to British soldiers, and yet, she was so compassionate, she felt it was her mission to help anyone whose path she crossed, even if they were the enemy. She lived close to one of the forts in Kentucky and she’d put the injured up in her house or bring them medicine or care for them. She didn’t see them as soldiers. They were people, and she couldn’t turn her back on them, no matter what uniform they wore.”

“That’s admirable.”

“And courageous. It was extremely dangerous. And not everyone agreed with her reasoning of treating human beings, not soldiers.”

A flash of pain in his eyes prompted Shana to ask, “What happened to her?”

“Hanged for treason, of course. I couldn’t get to her in order to save her, because I’d been elsewhere at the time. I never quite forgave myself for that and it changed me a bit. I took up where she left off, as best as I could at any rate.”

“You went AWOL?”

He nodded. “No one ever found me, of course. I was able to avert attention. Unlike you, obviously,” he added. “You’ve always been the center of it.”

“Not willingly.”

“So what was it?” he asked again, not even needing to remind her he’d posed a specific question.

Shana shook her head. “You’ll think it’s absurd, but… It was a white dress. No,” she corrected as her heart constricted. “It was the dress. The only one I’ve ever wanted.”

“I’m guessing this is anything but absurd.”

She loved that he got her. How could she not have seen that last night?

Ignoring that thought, she continued.

“I saw it in the window of a Paris boutique. It was the most beautiful gown I’ve ever laid eyes on—then or now. The sleeves were made of the most delicate lace and they were so long, they covered half of the mannequin’s dainty hands. Beads and crystals were sewn into the intricate design, making the lace sparkle under the twinkling lights from the chandelier overhead. It was an off-the-shoulder dress with a slight dip at the breasts. The bodice was all lace and it covered the breasts and cut away at the top of the rib cage, like butterfly wings, then wrapped around to the back, where there was a long line of buttons. The lace gave way to the smoothest, softest, most luxurious satin I’ve ever touched. It was positively breathtaking.”

He propped a hip against the table and said, “Don’t tell me you couldn’t afford it?”

She smiled, despite the painful memory creeping around the edges of her mind. “Of course I could. I was only fourteen at the time, but I had plenty of money. A lot of it got sent to my family, even though I never saw them, but I had more than my fair share.” Her smile faded at the thought of a family she didn’t even know and the recollection of the dress that had perpetuated her damaged self-image.

“What happened, Shana? With the gown?”

“I told the saleswoman I wanted it and handed over my credit card. In a very cold tone, she informed me it was a one-of-a-kind creation from an up-and-coming designer named Phillipe LaVallier and that it wouldn’t fit me.”