He thought about that while he secured the knife sheath to his ankle and got his trousers closed. He fastened his waistcoat with quick, practiced motions and pulled on his low boots. When he was dressed he crossed the room to stand in front of her.
“Is respectability that important to you?” he asked.
She raised her chin. “My father was a gentleman who kept his glass-reader mistress in the shadows. I have lived my entire life with the stain of illegitimacy. I am burdened with a talent for perceiving the most unwholesome afterimages in mirrors. That is not exactly a fashionable or ladylike skill. I make my living in a way that Arcane, the one organization that should accept and understand my psychical nature, finds disreputable.” She fastened the last hook of her gown and dropped her hands. “Yes, Owen, respectability is important to me.”
He caught her chin on the edge of his hand. “I grew up in a family that does not concern itself overmuch with the outward appearance of respectability. But the Sweetwaters do care a great deal about honor and courage and strength of will. It is how we have survived. Those qualities are what bind us together as a family.”
She smiled. “I do not doubt that.”
“You are endowed with all of those attributes that Sweetwaters hold dear. I would trust you with my life and my secrets.”
She went still. “Truly?”
“Truly.” He brushed his mouth across her parted lips and straightened. “Speaking of family secrets, I have revealed a number of them to you. Which leaves me with only one safe alternative.”
“What is that?”
“You must marry me, of course.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
“Otherwise I shall have to spend the rest of my life worrying that you will reveal all of the dark Sweetwater secrets to some other man.”
“What?”
“I’m teasing you, of course. This is not the time to discuss our marriage plans. It is late, and you must go to bed.”
He released her, picked up his black evening coat and headed for the door.
“Owen, wait.”
“We will finish this conversation some other time,” he promised. He unlocked the door and moved out into the shadowed hall, smiling a little when he heard the quick patter of her bare feet behind him.
“You cannot just run off like this,” she hissed urgently. “Explain yourself, sir.”
He opened the front door and paused long enough to steal one last kiss.
“There is nothing more to explain, when you get right down to it,” he said. “I am asking you to marry me. I can only hope that you will say yes.”
“Damn it, Owen—”
He went out into the night. She started to pursue him and then evidently thought better of it when her bare feet touched the cold stone of the step. She moved back into the hall.
The shadows shifted down in the front area.
“I’m leaving now, Matt,” Owen said. “I expect you and Tony to take excellent care of Miss Dean.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said cheerfully.
“Mr. Sweetwater,” Virginia snapped, her tone excruciatingly formal. “You can’t just leave like this. I have questions for you.”
“Another time, Miss Dean,” he said. “Don’t forget to lock the door.”
Virginia said something indistinct in a very low voice and closed the door with considerably more force than was necessary.
He listened for the rasp of iron on iron that told him Virginia had turned the key in the lock. When he heard it he went down the steps to the pavement.
“Uncle Owen?” Matt called softly.
He stopped. “Yes?”
“She’s the one, isn’t she? The woman everyone in the family says you’ve been waiting for.”
“Yes,” Owen said. “But I would take it as a favor if you don’t mention that to Miss Dean.”
“Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Not yet. I’m trying to break it to her gently. She needs time to become accustomed to the notion of marriage to me.”
“No offense, sir, but judging by the tone of her voice just now, I don’t think you’re doing a very good job of explaining the situation.”
“What do you expect? It’s the first time I’ve tried to do so.”
“You mustn’t hit her over the head with it. Women like to be romanced like the heroines in the sensation novels.”
“What the devil do you know about sensation novels?”
“A man can learn a great deal about women from novels,” Matt said. “You should try it sometime.”
THIRTY-TWO
Owen went to the end of the street and rounded the corner into the narrow lane that bordered the graveyard. The gas lamps were few and far between now, but he scarcely noticed the deeper darkness. His senses were slightly elevated, as they always were when he walked the night. He registered the small sounds and the shifts in the shadows around him without consciously thinking about it.
The hunter in him was on the prowl, searching for the spoor of the monsters, but he was aware that something was different tonight. He did not feel driven by the relentless compulsion that had been riding him so hard in the past year. The obsessive need to hunt had faded to a normal level or, rather, a level that felt normal for a Sweetwater. The men of his line would never be wholly civilized, he thought. But it was good to regain a sense of balance and perspective, good to be able to ignore, for now, at any rate, the terrible allure of the abyss of night that had been calling to him for months.
And, yes, it was good to feel this pleasantly euphoric, if unfamiliar, sense of well-being. Virginia had given him back his future, although she did not realize it yet.
Virginia.She was his talisman. The bond between them gave him the power not only to resist the dark forces that had been drawing him toward the edge but to control them once more.
He had to admit that Matt had a point, though. I’m botching the job of explaining the Sweetwater bond to her.
He would have to come up with a better way of making sure that she understood their relationship. Although when he thought about the situation closely he could not comprehend the exact nature of the problem. Virginia was obviously attracted to him. There could be no doubt about the depths of their mutual passion. She was as warm and sweet as melted honey in his arms. Women were supposed to be especially sensitive to powerful emotions. Where the devil was he going wrong?
He sensed the faint shift in the atmosphere between one step and the next, a subtle whisper of heightened energy. The hunter in him pricked up his senses. There was another strong talent abroad tonight, close at hand.
He did not change his pace. He was too experienced to give any outward indication that he had picked up the telltale signals of the other’s presence. Nevertheless, his senses flashed into full strength. He knew he was giving off a lot of hot energy. If the other sensitive was paying attention, he or she would surely realize that there was another talent in the vicinity.
It was not uncommon to encounter a stranger on the street who possessed a measurable degree of talent. But passing someone who was unusually powerful was a relatively rare experience. There were not that many high-level talents around. He could not afford to assume that this encounter was a coincidence, not when it was taking place so close to Virginia’s address.
He studied the lane without appearing to do so. There was no one else visible. That meant that the other talent was probably concealed behind one of the ancient stone monuments or in the crypt up ahead.