She carefully replaced everything in the trunk and then opened the second chest. This one held an assortment of odds and ends— a box filled with a variety of coins, a small curved dagger with a jeweled hilt, a silver watch and chain, a pair of dun-colored trousers and a white linen shirt. There was a straight razor, the blade still sharp, and a shaving mug. She knew somehow that these things belonged to Roshan, that they had been a part of his life before he became a vampire.
She replaced everything, then closed the lid. After locking both trunks, she gained her feet and examined the furniture. There was a curved settee covered in dark red velvet, a rocking chair, a three-drawer chest, a clock. A small table with an elaborately carved top contained a compartment lined with copper. It smelled faintly of tobacco.
Feeling hungry again, she went into the kitchen and made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich the way she had seen a woman make it on television. She took a bite, chewed it carefully, and smiled. Carrying the sandwich with her, she went outside and walked the grounds. Morgana paced at her heels, running off now and then to investigate a corner of the yard.
Brenna sat on a bench, admiring the changing leaves on the trees and the late blooming flowers while Morgana stalked a sparrow.
Returning to the house sometime later, Brenna found the remote control device and turned on the television. There was something fascinating about skipping through the channels, and she did so several times before she stopped, her gaze riveted to the screen as she watched a large black wolf transform into a man. He stared at a woman for several moments and then she transformed into a bird and flew away. A horrible cry of anguish rose in the man's throat. Intrigued, Brenna settled back on the sofa, her head pillowed on her hand, as she watched the story unfold, pleased when, in the end, good triumphed over evil and the wolf/man and the bird/ woman were freed from the power of the evil clergyman who had cursed them.
A short time later, a new story began to unfold. Yawning, she turned off the television and went upstairs to Roshan's room. Folding back the bedspread, she slipped underneath the covers and closed her eyes.
She woke to the sound of Morgana growling in her ear.
Opening her eyes, Brenna saw that night had fallen. Roshan sat in the chair across from the bed, watching her through fathomless midnight blue eyes.
CHAPTER 8
"Did no one teach you that it is rude to stare at other people?" Brenna exclaimed, discomfited to wake and find him watching her so intently. She thought it unfair that he had access to her sleeping chamber but kept his so carefully hidden.
"Did no one teach you that it's rude to go through other people's belongings?"
How had he known? She lifted her chin defiantly. "I got tired of watching the television. I do not understand it."
"I thought I explained it to you."
"I still do not know what is real and what is, what was the word? Fiction?"
"I'll explain it to you again later tonight, if you like."
She sat up, the bedspread drawn up to her chin even though she was fully clothed. "What are you doing in here?"
He lifted one dark brow. "This is my room, remember? My clothes are in here."
Her gaze swept over him, noting that he was wearing the same shirt and breeches he had worn the night before.
Rising, he went to the dresser and pulled out a change of underwear, then went to the closet and selected a shirt and a pair of trousers. She noted that he favored black.
"I'm going to take a shower," he said, moving toward the bathroom. "I won't be long. Later tonight I'll move my things into another room."
She nodded, thinking she should probably feel guilty for making him move out of his bedroom, but she didn't. After all, she hadn't asked to come here.
She watched him go into the bathroom and close the door. A moment later she heard the sound of running water. To her consternation, she found herself imagining Roshan standing under the spray, the water coursing down his shoulders and arms, his broad chest, his stomach, his—
With a gasp, she jerked her thoughts away, horrified at the path her mind was wandering. No matter that she was attracted to Roshan DeLongpre, no matter that he walked in her dreams by night and occupied her every waking thought by day. Even though he was the most handsome of men, she had to remember that he was not truly a man at all. To love a vampire… ah, 'twould be folly indeed.
She glanced around the room, trying to find something else— anything else— to think of besides Roshan standing in the shower, but to no avail. The more she tried not to think about him, the more vivid her fantasies became. She had felt the strength in his arms. Was the rest of his body as hard and well-muscled? She licked her lips, remembering the excitement of his kisses, the way her very being had tingled at his touch. To her shame, she wished he would kiss her again so that she could feel his arms around her, feel her br**sts crushed against his chest. Such unseemly thoughts for a maiden, she scolded. Until she met Roshan, she had never known such wicked imaginings.
Heat flooded her cheeks when the bathroom door opened. She stared at him, fervently praying that he could not read her mind.
He didn't say a word, but she knew from the amused look in his eyes that he was aware of her wayward thoughts. Whistling softly, he left the room.
Scrambling out from under the covers, Brenna closed and locked the door. Going into the bathroom, she locked that door, as well, then took a quick shower, all too aware that Roshan was in the house and that, should he wish to enter the room, the lock would not keep him out.
Stepping out of the shower, she grabbed a towel, marveling at its softness as she used it to dry off and then wrapped it around her.
Going into the bedroom, she pulled a vibrant green silk blouse from one of the bags, a long white skirt from another, undergarments from a third. She pulled on a pair of panties, loving the silky feel of the material against her skin.
So many changes in fashion, both in fabric and style, so many varieties to choose from in this new world. At home, she'd had but three dresses, two for everyday wear and one she kept for special occasions and holidays. No woman in her village had ever worn breeches. It simply wasn't done, nor, she was certain, had it ever been considered.
She brushed her hair and then her teeth, marveling again at the wonders of Roshan's time. Imagine, a brush just for keeping her teeth clean. An oven that cooked things in seconds instead of hours, machines that washed dishes and clothes, cooking on a stove instead of on a tripod. She couldn't count the number of women she had treated for burns because their skirts had caught fire when they reached into the hearth to stir a pot or retrieve one from the coals.