Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 2)

Victoria preferred him at a distance. It was easier to keep hold of thoughts of Phillip and how much she'd loved him and how recently she'd been widowed when she saw Sebastian only in passing.

But the fact was, she had thought of Sebastian, and quite often. It was hard to banish the reminder of his muscular body pressing her against the rail, and near impossible to forget the kisses they'd shared—particularly when his sensual mouth was curved in that welcoming smile whenever she walked in the room. His intentions were clear to her, at least; she hoped Aunt Eustacia hadn't read them as well.

And the fact was, Victoria did wonder what would be the harm in giving in to what they both wanted. He'd made it clear that he had no interest in anything other than a mutually beneficial dalliance, which was all she wanted, or could allow herself to engage in, anyway. And there was no possibility of a baby to result from any liaison she might wish to embark upon, as Victoria had been provided a medicinal potion when she was married to Phillip to prevent pregnancy. It was an old tradition of the Gardellas; for no one, least of all Victoria, wished to have a Venator carrying a child.

If she were going to see what it was like to take a lover to whom she was not married or had no other attachment, Sebastian would be a rather logical choice. At least he understood and accepted her life. He was aware of her obligations, and didn't have that overbearing sense of protectiveness that any other man would have. He wouldn't need to be lied to; nor would she need to hide her vis bulla from him; nor would he expect anything more from her in the way of marriage.

He was attractive and charming, and he made her feel a bit reckless, even for a Venator. There was, of course, the whole issue as to whether she could completely trust him. But, trustworthy or not, he was a fine kisser, among other things, and she was a Venator and could take care of herself.

It was certainly something to consider.

Other than trying to avoid Sebastian—and thus her confused, tantalizing feelings about him—during the course of the voyage, Victoria had little to do.

At first, she tried to keep sharp by practicing her kalari-payattu in the small chamber she shared with Verbena, but it was much too small. She kept kicking one or other of the beds, and at one point slammed her elbow into the wall when she misjudged a spin.

That sent her searching for another place on the ship that might accommodate a bit more movement. More accurately, it sent Oliver to search for such a space for her. He did manage to locate a storage room that, because the trip was less than a fortnight, was not being completely stuffed with supplies that would have been needed for a longer voyage.

So Victoria practiced there, sometimes with Kritanu and other times without, while Oliver sat just outside the door in case anyone tried to come in. It would have been exceedingly embarrassing for one of the shipmates to barge in on Victoria wearing loose pants and a tuniclike shirt, as she was spinning and kicking throughout the room.

One day she had been practicing for well over an hour, using the crates scattered throughout the room as part of her moves. She spun and kicked, launched herself up onto one of them, whirled with the momentum of her movement, and' leaped down and across the room onto another one.

Victoria was perspiring and her hair had begun to straggle from its braid, plastering to her face and neck. She whipped around and snatched up a machete she'd been using in her battles with Kritanu in days past, and when she turned back around, she saw the door to the room opening.

It was, of course, Sebastian.

"How did you get in here?" she asked, huffing and puffing. She stood on one of the crates across from the door and swiped a hand over her damp forehead. Her sword dangled from a loose grip. She would not even think of how she must look, with damp patches along the sides of her shirt and the loose, unfeminine trousers. And her feet, wearing only light stockings.

"Your man Oliver, of course. He and I have had several conversations during your practices—a matter of gaining his trust, you know. So today I suggested that it might be acceptable to allow me to watch for a bit."

He walked over and picked up Kritanu's matching machete. "Learning to fence, are you?"

"The skill is called ankathari, and it is much more lethal than a Frenchman's pretty fencing pirouettes and parries. Notice the inflexibility and width of the blade. Our weapons are much more serious than those slender, bendable ones you use."

"Oho! So you wish to challenge me to a duel, do you? I am pleased to accept." He swung the sword, whistling it through the air, then put it aside as he stripped off his coat and cravat. She tried not to notice as he unsnagged the two buttons of his collar and rolled up his sleeves, showing skin tanned the color of toffee.

"There is padded gear there, if you wish to wear it." Victoria nodded her head toward the pile of armor that Kritanu would normally don during their sessions.

Sebastian considered it, then looked at her. "You do not wear it?"

"No. But I—"

"—am a Venator. Yes, yes, I am aware of that." He stepped into the center of the room. "I'll take my chances." He looked up at her, where she still stood. "Do you not wish to duel with me? Or are you finished practicing for the day?"

"I'll duel with you." She jumped down, landing flat-footed on the ground. "There is little else to do on this ship."

They faced each other, the length of two machete blades apart. His golden brown eyes pinned her when she looked at him, and she recognized pleasure and challenge there.

"We must have a prize for the winner of this duel," he said, grinning slyly. "You didn't think I would allow such an opportunity to pass, did you?"

Victoria couldn't hold back the huff of a surprised laugh. "Of course not. And, coincidentally, I'm sure you have something in mind."

"A boon. The winner chooses a boon that the other must give freely."

Now she really laughed. "Sebastian, you are utterly predictable!"

Instead of being offended, he grinned in return and nodded. "Of course. When opportunity presents itself, I am most delighted to grab it."

"That means, of course, that you must win in order to collect on your boon."

"You do not appear concerned."

"I'm not." And she lunged at him.

He didn't move except for his sword hand, neatly blocking her machete. "Nor am I."

They parried and teased for a bit, their feet remaining in a stationary position for the most part as their blades slid along each other, clanged each hand guard against the other, then fell away. Victoria held back, wanting to gauge her opponent's skill; for though she wanted to best him, she did not want to injure the arrogant fop who disdained padded armor. Certainly he must be more used to handling an épée or other fencing blade, which was lighter and more flexible, yet he kept pace with her, even as she increased her speed and the power of her lunges and thrusts.