nodded, but she didn’t move. She just looked around the kitchen, suddenly overwhelmed by the weirdness of the situation—of the past two days.
“It will be okay, Jane.”
She offered him a forced smile as he left the kitchen. She did appreciate his comforting words. It had to be pretty odd for him, too. He must be really shaken up about Rhys.
Sebastian grinned as soon as the kitchen door swung shut behind him.
Wasn’t this turning into another interesting evening.
Rhys, his detached, surly and annoyingly gloomy brother, had saved a mortal life. Unbelievable!
Rhys adhered to one cardinal rule: never get involved with mortals. At least no mortals outside of the ones he used as his food source. And they were always the dregs of society.
Sebastian shuddered, just thinking about it. They didn’t use the word dregs for no reason. Lowlifes tasted like the residue at the bottom of the barrel—vile and stale as if their life forces were decaying with each evil act they’d done.
But Jane had done no evil acts. Not a one. That fact was clear in her very scent—she was wholesome. The last type of mortal with whom Rhys would entangle himself. But he most definitely had. They had somehow gotten entangled with each other. Sebastian could smell that, too. Both of them reeked of unbridled lust.
Sebastian grinned again with amusement. Who knew his brother grim even had a sex drive. Sebastian had always believed Rhys’s thoughts of sex had been cast aside to make more room for all his languishing. Apparently not. Rhys had just required the right lady.
But who was Jane? Sebastian’s steps slowed, and his smile slipped. Great. Rhys had a romantic interest, but Jane’s story certainly hadn’t clarified what had happened in the alley last night.
He could deduce that the male mortal in the alley was the guy who had attacked Jane, which was why Rhys had gone dental on the guy. But he still didn’t know who had attacked Rhys or why. And he had no idea why Rhys was acting so weird earlier. He thought Jane was his betrothed. And he’d even smiled a couple times. Rhys never smiled.
So much was still unexplained. Who was he kidding? Nothing made sense. He really hoped Rhys had snapped out of his lust-induced delirium and had some sort of explanation.
It didn’t take long for Sebastian to find Rhys—in the library, a large room full of books and music, and Rhys’s favorite room in the apartment.
Rhys sat in a chair, leaning back against the cushions, legs crossed, looking unusually relaxed. Two glasses of scotch were already poured and waiting on the table.
“There you are,” Rhys greeted with a broad, warm smile. “I thought we might have a drink to celebrate.”
Sebastian blinked. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen that smile, certainly not since Rhys crossed over. And Rhys celebrating? Brooding was about as celebratory as Rhys got.
“Is Jane settled with her tea?”
“Yes. She’s fine.”
“Good.” Rhys stood and crossed to the giant stone fireplace that took up most of one of the walls. He picked up a fire poker from the hearth and stirred the smoldering ashes. Then he tossed a log onto the orange coals.
“She is lovely, is she not?”
“Jane? Yes.” Sebastian studied his brother. Why was he talking so stiltedly? And when had his English accent gotten so pronounced? They’d both lost their accents almost totally over the decades.
Rhys returned to pick up his scotch. Then he crossed back to the fireplace, leaning an arm on the mantel. He took a sip of the golden liquid, then sighed. “I am quite pleased with the match, I must say. When Father had told me that he had arranged for me to wed an American, I had been more than a little outraged.”
Sebastian remembered, even though the incident had happened nearly two hundred years ago. Was that why Rhys was talking and acting so strangely? Somehow he believed he was back in nineteenth century England?
“I was picturing a hulking woman who pushed a plow through the fields all day,” Rhys told him, and it took a moment for Sebastian to realize what he was talking about.
“A woman with no social graces,” Rhys continued. “A savage, in truth. But out of respect for Father and Mother, I would have married her.”
Sebastian almost chuckled at that. Man, Rhys had really dodged a bullet on that one. Rhys’s image of his American fiancée was dead on. Sebastian couldn’t recall her name—Bertha, he seemed to think. And she had been a hulking, abrasive and very unattractive woman.
In fact, Sebastian wished he’d remembered ole Bertha earlier. When Rhys was lamenting being a vampire, which he did often, Sebastian could have reminded him that he could have lived and died in the arms of big Bertha.
Which brought him back to the mystery of who Jane was and what happened in that alley last night. Jane didn’t know. And it was pretty darn obvious Rhys had no clue either as he was quite happily back in merry old England.
Sebastian concentrated on Rhys. He couldn’t sense anything physically wrong with him—even his maimed neck had healed completely. So why was he acting this way? Rhys was too angsty to be insane. Insanity would normally be way too fun for him.
“Where are Christian and Elizabeth? I want them to meet Jane. They will love her.”
Suddenly Rhys’s current predicament didn’t seem quite so amusing. He had somehow forgotten the past two centuries. And all the painful things that had happened in that time. Elizabeth’s death. Christian’s hatred toward them both—but especially Rhys.
The loss of his siblings had devastated Rhys, but he’d subsisted, not ever returning to the Rhys whom Sebastian had known in life, but he kept going. Somehow Sebastian didn’t think Rhys could survive losing them all over again.
Wait, if he didn’t remember Elizabeth’s death, and he didn’t remember his rift with Christian, then he certainly didn’t remember he was a vampire. He didn’t have a clue that he was undead.
“Sebastian,” Rhys asked sharply. “You are a thousand miles away. Did you hear me? Where are Elizabeth and Christian?”
“They are—at the country estate,” Sebastian said quickly. What the hell was the name of that old place?
“At Rothmere?”
That was it. “Yes. Remember, Christian took Elizabeth there, because her friend was having a house party?”
Rhys frowned, obviously trying to recall. “Elizabeth is always attending this or that. I cannot keep track.”
Sebastian took a swallow of his scotch. This was too weird. Who knew a vampire could even get amnesia, but that appeared to be exactly what Rhys had.
Rhys walked over and turned on the floor lamp beside a tan, overstuffed chair.
Sebastian watched him closely, expecting him to react to the whole concept of electric lights—an invention they didn’t see until the late 1800s,
