"Would you like to join me until they show up?"

"Thank you, but I'm engaged."

"Ah." Again that slight smile touched his lips. "I see. Where is your fiance?"

"He's --" She glanced away, unsure of what to say. Talking about Charles stirred such sadness inside her. It was so difficult to put up a strong front when she missed him so much. "He's away on business."

His gaze bore into her and a familiar tingle shot through her. For a moment she felt like she was staring into Charles's eyes. "He's a lucky man."

"I'm not so sure about that," she whispered.

"Would you share a drink with me in friendship, then?"

d.a.m.n. This guy was going to be harder to get rid of than she thought.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That probably seemed terribly forward of me."

"No. It's all right. I was going to get a drink anyway." She headed for the bar and he fell into step beside her.

The bartender glanced at her companion. "What can I get you?"

"Two vanilla rums, please."

Marie fired him a look. For a moment she forgot to breathe.

His strange yellow gaze fixed on her. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you first. Would you rather have something else?"

"No. That's my favorite drink." Her brow furrowed. "Did you read my mind?"

"Excuse me?"

"I know about your kind and mind reading. I don't appreciate that sort of invasion."

"I a.s.sure you, Miss, I did not read your mind."

"Then how did you know --"

"You just seemed like a woman who would enjoy vanilla rum."

The bartender placed their drinks in front of them and they each took a sip. Marie' s gaze lingered on his throat as he swallowed, then trailed over the corded muscles of his exposed shoulder and broad chest.

"What's your name?"

"John Brookfield."

"Are you just visiting the US?"

"No, I moved here."

"Like it?"

"Well enough. What's your name?"

"Marie Connor." She finished her rum and ran her tongue over her bottom lip, catching the last of the strong, sweet flavor. His hungry gaze followed the motion, sending a spark of desire through her. It was wrong to be sitting here with such an attractive man who could have been Charles' cousin or brother.

"Is something wrong, Marie?"

"No. You --"

"Talk to me."

The back of her neck tingled. Talk to me. One of Charles's favorite phrases when he tried guiding her out of hiding her emotions and into serious conversation. A haunted sensation stirred deep within her and a crazy idea kindled in her brain. It was impossible. Stupid. Ridiculous, yet was it true? This man couldn't be Charles, could he?

The music suddenly changed to a soft rock song, perfect for dancing. If he put his hands on her, held her, then she would know. No one could ever make her feel like Charles. No man could fit perfectly to her, body and soul. "John, would you tell me more about Vulcan and Venus?"

"I'd love to."

"Would you tell me on the dance floor?"

"If you like." He stood and offered her his hand. It was huge and mottled, like the rest of him. The fingers were long and gnarled yet shockingly gentle as they folded around hers. His thumb stroked her palm in an achingly familiar manner.

Marie swallowed hard and forced herself to remain calm. This couldn't be. It just couldn't.

When they reached the dance floor, it was all Marie could do to keep her knees from buckling when he held her. The position was so familiar and so intimate. His arm slipped around her waist. His opposite wrist turned so that instead of holding her hand properly in the air, the back of it pressed against his shoulder in a more intimate gesture. No man but Charles had ever held her in this way.

Settling her hand on his waist, she relished the closeness of his powerful body. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed gently against his torso. The man was made of solid muscle, hard bone, and warm skin. His breath, pleasantly scented with mint toothpaste and sweet rum, aroused wonderful memories of deep, tender kisses.

G.o.d, this had to be Charles. No matter what his accent or what color his eyes. No matter how gnarled his hands, or twisted his lips. She didn't care if his flesh was covered with strange makeup. No two men could be so much alike. Why was he playing this game and why hadn't Zigor and Mel told her he had been found?

Perhaps he was still in danger because of the hunters? No. That would be too much like some cheesy movie or daytime melodrama. Besides, wouldn't he be safe enough at Burgundy Peak? Good sense told her this was all a big coincidence, or that she missed Charles so much she was going crazy and imagining he was here when he wasn't. Yet in her gut she knew the truth.

"You wanted me to tell you about Vulcan and Venus."

"Yes." Marie wasn't sure how she formed the words. Her entire body felt numb. Blinding excitement, rage, and lingering disbelief battled inside her.

"Vulcan was madly in love with the beautiful Venus, but she didn't feel the same. How could she? The smith G.o.d was ugly. He limped, a flawed G.o.d. Still, he was given Venus as his wife. He adored her. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her, but she wanted nothing to do with him."

Marie smiled a bit and gazed into his strange yet compelling yellow eyes. "You mean she didn't want him because he was ugly?"

"Like I said. She was the G.o.ddess of love and beauty."

"How could she be the G.o.ddess of love but not see the beauty inside him?"

"Sometimes the outer package is so horrible, any goodness inside is hard to see."

Marie sighed. "It's funny, but I was almost happy to put on this costume tonight. I didn't know I was dressing up as a b.i.t.c.h."

Laughing, he tugged her a bit nearer. Marie resisted the urge to close her eyes and melt against him. "I'm sure you could never be a b.i.t.c.h."

"What do you look like beneath that mask?"

"Unlike Vulcan, I don't dare reveal my ugliness in the face of such beauty." He released her hand and caressed her face with his fingertips. They trailed down her cheek to the side of her neck and rubbed a tender circle over the place marked with two faint scars, little more than pinp.r.i.c.ks. It was the place where Charles often took her blood when they made love. Taking blood not only sustained him, but provided intense pleasure for them both.

The song's rhythm slowed and he bent his head. His breath warmed the side of her neck. Marie's breathing deepened. Standing on tiptoe, she leaned closer to him. His lips almost touched her flesh. Their warmth made her tingle from head to toe.

"Do you miss your fiance?" he asked.

Tiny ripples of pa.s.sion coursed through her. He had only to move the slightest bit and his lips would rest against her flesh.

"More than anything."

"It's wrong of him not to be with you."

"His beliefs make a normal life difficult sometimes. He's very dedicated to his cause."

"Nothing should mean more to him than you."

"I know if he could be with me, he would."

Suddenly he stepped away. His gaze held hers with such raging guilt that Marie no longer questioned his ident.i.ty. This was Charles, but for whatever reason he had chosen to lie to her tonight.

At first she felt a rush of utter relief that he was safe. Then anger filled her. How dare he toy with her and make her worry? Finally understanding breached her fury. He must have a very good reason for acting this way. Obviously he'd taken great care with his costume so that he wouldn't be recognized by anyone who didn't know him as intimately as she did. The best thing to do would be to play along until he was ready to drop the charade, or until her anger finally got the better of her. Still, it was hard to be angry when she was so happy to see him again.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes. Let's find a table." Smiling, she squeezed his hand. Walking off the dance floor, Marie noticed Zigor and Mel seated at a corner booth.

She and her companion approached. "Zigor, Mel, this is John Brookfield."

"I know who he is," Zigor said flatly.

"I've never met him, darling." Mel smiled almost too sweetly at her lover. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Brookfield."

Marie's heart sank. "You know him, Zigor?"

"Of course."

"It's nice to see an old friend again," John said, stepping aside so that Marie could slide into the booth first.

She had been so certain it was Charles, yet Zigor recognized him as someone else. Vampires' sense of smell would never lie, regardless of how a person looked. He would have known by scent if this man were Charles. "How long have you known each other?"

John said, "A hundred years," at the same time Zigor said, "A thousand years."

"Well which is it?"

"We met in France a thousand years ago," John said. "But we didn't start socializing until a hundred years ago."

"I see." Sighing, Marie glanced at the door. A sudden hope sparked inside her. Perhaps Zigor was also playing along with Charles's charade. If that was the case, then something dangerous must be going on, something they either couldn't or wouldn't drag her into.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" John's gaze fixed on Marie. Her pulse quickened. G.o.d, it was Charles's subtle yet burning look when he wanted to have s.e.x. Her nipples tightened and she resisted the urge to writhe in her seat.

Taking her lower lip between her teeth, she considered his question. Somehow she knew that if they went for a walk it would lead to so much more. If she weren't so d.a.m.ned confused this evening would be so much more pleasant. Though her heart told her it was her lover in costume, common sense warned that she really couldn't know for sure. Once he was out of costume with his naked body possessing hers, she would be certain, but if she was wrong -- the consequences were too terrible to think about. She glanced at Zigor. "He's your friend. Is he safe?"

"He's broken a few hearts, but he's not a crazed killer or rapist, if that's what you mean."

Zigor's gaze suddenly fixed on Marie. A chill crept up her spine. The ancient vampire had never looked at her in such an odd way before. Even stranger was that she could almost hear him in her head, telling her she was right in believing John was Charles and that she should give him time to reveal the truth in his own way. Was this the telepathy she heard so many vampires talk about? Some humans could catch onto it, but she had never done well with it, so Charles rarely tried using it on her. Zigor was older and she had heard stories of his powers, so maybe he possessed the skill to easily enter her mind.

Zigor suddenly spoke aloud. "I think you both have much in common. You will learn from each other, if you remain open to the truth."

A growl rumbled deep in John's chest. Marie jumped, startled. She knew enough about vampires to recognize the difference between an angry growl and a playful one. In spite of the smile on his twisted lips, John's yellow gaze seemed to fire a warning in Zigor's direction. Then he stood and turned to Marie, his expression gentle yet full of desire. "If you would rather not join me, I understand."

"No. I could use a walk." Picking up her purse, Marie accepted the arm he offered and the two of them ascended the stairs to the upper floor of Burgundy Peak.

Walking alongside Marie, her soft hand curved around his forearm, Charles was almost overwhelmed with love and desire. Approaching her earlier had been as hard as a forced march in daylight.

When he'd held her on the dance floor, it was like a fantasy come true. More than anything he longed for her naked body to be wrapped around his. The scent of her hair and skin, the sensual pulsations of her mortal heartbeat, and the sweetness of her voice filled him with such joy. Yet the thrill of being with her was tainted by guilt and worry.

He got the feeling she was starting to recognize him, but he couldn't be sure. Though he could communicate telepathically with his own kind, he found the human mind more difficult to enter. It frustrated him that Marie in particular seemed to possess a mental barrier he had trouble breaching. He could not use telepathy without her knowing it and exposing himself.

One thing he would wager on was that she thought his scars were part of his costume. Though she'd spoken with distaste of Venus after hearing the story he spun, she was only human. When faced with the reality of a disfigured lover, would her convictions hold?

"Where are we going?" Marie's question dragged him out of his thoughts.

He turned to her, relishing the lovely curve of her face and the beauty of her large green eyes beneath her gla.s.ses. "Zigor has added a new room down the hall. It's done like a Roman bath. Quite lovely."

Her smile warmed him deep inside and stirred his c.o.c.k. How much he would love to taste her voluptuous red painted lips, or even better, feel them slide over his c.o.c.khead. A ripple of pa.s.sion trickled down his spine. His b.a.l.l.s tightened and his heart slammed against his ribs. It had been too long since they had shared such intimacy. Just thinking about making love with her, he could almost taste the feminine honey drenching her p.u.s.s.y. His tongue ached to stroke her c.l.i.t and thrust inside her until she writhed and quivered in climax.

Charles drew a deep breath. His temples throbbed and his stomach clenched as l.u.s.t grew. Still, he tried to remain outwardly calm.

"Did you see Rome?"

"Not in its Golden Age, as this bath replicates. I'm not quite that old."

"I didn't think so."

"I would love to know what you do think of me, Marie."

Though it was a risk to say her name, even with the accent, he couldn't resist. It teased his tongue and rolled off his lips, the most beautiful word a man could form. He prayed she wouldn't recognize the desire and affection with which he spoke her name. He had probably given himself away already. Part of him at least hoped he had. No matter what she looked like or what voice she chose to use, he would know her anywhere. Of course his sense of smell was far keener than a human's, but even if it disappeared altogether, he would feel her in his heart. Perhaps he had not only toyed with her emotions in this endeavor, but underestimated her as well.

"I think that mask hides more than you like people to believe."

"Well." He grinned, his pulse quickening. "You do like to get to the heart of things, don't you."

"I'm guessing you won't be quick to tell me your secrets."

"I will tell you one. I know you're a promised woman and this must seem terrible of me, but I can't let this night pa.s.s without telling you how I feel."