Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [40]
Byron paused. “I didn’t realize she was off-limits to me,” he said innocently. “Besides, I didn’t drain her. I only took a sip or two.” He smiled wickedly.
Jane’s face flushed and her jaw trembled. “Stop these games!” she said. “Leave her be!”
Byron cocked his head. “You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?” he said. “Perhaps she’s almost like a daughter?” He paused a moment, then pointed one finger at Jane. “No,” he said. “Not a daughter. A sister.”
Jane understood his meaning perfectly. She placed her hands on the back of the chair in front of her, gripping it so tightly that her nails left scratches in the leather.
“You. Will. Not. Touch. Her.” She spat each word at Byron as if it were a weapon.
Byron frowned. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” he replied. “After all, she’s just a girl.”
He swept across the room, leaning so close to Jane that for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her.
“It isn’t Lucy I want,” he said. His breath was warm on her face. “It’s you. But until you give yourself to me I must make do with what I have.”
“You won’t have me,” said Jane.
Byron leaned closer still. “Then I will have Lucy,” he said. “Perhaps I will even make her immortal. Do you think she would like that?”
“No,” Jane said, barely able to get the word out of her mouth. “You can’t.”
Byron stepped away, laughing. “Of course I can,” he said. “What’s to stop me?” He snapped his fingers. “Or perhaps it isn’t female companionship I need,” he said. “Perhaps it’s time for a gentleman friend. Someone with whom I can discuss literature.”
Walter, Jane thought. He means Walter.
“Yes,” said Byron, as if reading her thoughts. “That might be nice. Then again, there’s no reason why I can’t have both.”
“Enough,” Jane said. “What do you want?”
Byron smiled at her. “You know what I want, Jane. I want you.”
“And just how would that work?” Jane asked. Her anger was returning, and it gave a mocking edge to her voice. “Would we marry and settle here? Would we become respected members of the community? Is that how you see it playing out?”
Byron’s expression was stony as he replied. “I expect you to leave with me,” he said. “Return to England, where we belong.”
“Ah,” said Jane. “Perhaps we could set up house on the shore of Lake Geneva. I believe one of the movie stars summers in your old house now. George Clooney, I think, or perhaps it’s the Jolie-Pitts. But I’m sure they would let us lease it the rest of the year.”
She stared at Byron, awaiting one of his famous bursts of temper. She had pushed him, perhaps too far, but her anger had turned into a bright fire she could no longer contain.
She was surprised when he laughed loudly. “You’ve changed some since our last meeting,” he said. “I like it.”
He became suddenly thoughtful. “You know this life of yours has to end someday,” he said. “What do you have, another five years? Perhaps ten? Then what? Are you going to tell your Walter what you are? Are you going to turn him?”
“I would never do that,” Jane snapped.
“Turn him?” asked Byron. “Or tell him?”
Jane looked away.
“I thought as much,” Byron said. “You see, you’ve already decided. Which leaves only my proposal.”
Jane was shaking her head as he spoke. Now she steeled herself and lifted her head. “I don’t love you,” she said firmly.
Once more Byron laughed at her. “Who said anything about love?” he replied. “We’re both far too old to believe in happily ever after, Jane.”
“Perhaps you don’t,” said Jane.
Byron smiled. “Man’s love is of man’s life a thing apart. ‘Tis woman’s whole existence.”
“Stop quoting yourself,” Jane said. “It’s vain even for you.”
“Yet you know it to be true,” Byron said.
Jane sniffed. “I’ve yet to become so cynical.”
“Give it time,” Byron told her. “At any rate, my offer remains the same. Come with me or sacrifice Lucy and Walter. Is that a price you’re willing to pay?”
Jane fought off the urge to turn and run. That would be useless. Byron would find her. And she knew as well that if she refused him, he would do exactly