"Isn't that the same band that played at the Gala Opening Ball?" Maggie asked.
"Yes. The High Voltage Vamps." Vanda fluffed up her purple hair. "The drummer is kinda cute, don't you think?"
"Hmm." Maggie looked him over. "Not as cute as Don Orlando."
And not nearly as cute as Adam Olaf Cartwright. Darcy silently moaned. That man kept invading her thoughts. She scanned the room, checking out the other guests. There were several handsome men at the reception—Jean-Luc Echarpe, Angus MacKay. Even Gregori was cute in a big brother sort of way. But they're not Adam.
Sheesh, she was starting to compare all men, live or dead, to Adam Cartwright. And even worse, none of these men did compare. How could they? They were cold creatures of the night. Adam was Apollo, the sun god. He radiated warmth and passion. He was alive.
He was forbidden.
She had suffered too much from being dragged into the vampire world. She refused to do that to another. As much as she wished happiness for Roman and Shanna, she could not foresee such a relationship working. With a sigh, she watched Roman escort his bride onto the dance floor. He took her into his arms, and they gazed at each other with so much love, it was painful to see. Darcy turned away, feeling guilty for the spurt of envy that had snaked into her heart.
A waiter came by their table to refill their glasses with Bubbly Blood, Roman's fusion drink of synthetic blood and champagne. Another waiter circled the table, placing a bowl of food in front of each of them.
Darcy grimaced at the lumpy, dark red mixture in her bowl. "What is this stuff?"
"Oh, Gregori told me about this." Maggie picked up a spoon and poked at the sticky goop in her bowl. "He did the first taste test on it for Roman."
Lady Pamela arched a brow. "Are you suggesting we eat this strange concoction?"
"Yes." Maggie lifted a spoonful to look at it. "Roman invented it just for the reception. It's called Red Velvet Pudding—a mixture of synthetic blood and white wedding cake."
"How disgusting." Princess Joanna shoved her bowl toward the center of the table.
For once, Darcy actually agreed with the bossy old medieval Vamp. With a twinge of nausea, she moved her bowl to the side.
Maggie set down her spoon and watched the bride and groom waltz across the dance floor. "They seem very happy."
Shanna's laughter rang out as she accidentally trampled on Roman's foot.
Lady Pamela sniffed. "Obviously, she's never had the benefits of a proper dance instructor."
"Si." Maria Consuela nodded, her conical hat bobbing. "You can dress her in a lovely gown, but it does not change the truth. She is naught but a lowly serf."
Roman paused in the middle of a sweeping turn to dip his wife to the side and plant a lingering kiss on her mouth.
Maggie sighed dreamily. "That's so romantic. That's exactly the sort of thing Don Orlando would do."
Vanda snorted. "From what I've heard, Don Orlando prefers to waltz in a horizontal position."
Maggie huffed. "Those rumors are false. Don Orlando is waiting for the right woman. Me."
Darcy exchanged a look with Vanda. They both hoped Maggie wasn't going to get her heart broken.
"Oh, look, other people are starting to dance." Cora Lee patted her mouth with a white linen napkin. Darcy shuddered when she realized the southern belle had actually wolfed down her entire bowl of Red Velvet Pudding.
Cora Lee flipped open her yellow fan. "I do declare, I hope someone will ask me to dance."
"Me, too," Lady Pamela said. "I simply adore dancing. Oh, bravo. Connor is coming this way. He does an excellent minuet."
Darcy stiffened. She clenched her hands together and focused on the bare white tablecloth in front of her. It had been hard enough to face him earlier. With any luck, he would ask Lady Pamela or Cora Lee to dance.
"Good evening, miladies." His low voice carried the soft musical lilt that Darcy had once thought was so adorable. But now, it only brought back memories of that terrible night.
"Why, Connor, it's so good of you to stop by." Cora Lee fluttered her fan. And her eyelashes. "Did you try the pudding? It was just the best thing ever."
"I havena tried it yet." An awkward silence ensued.
Lady Pamela fiddled with a button on her pale pink glove. "Lovely weather we're having."
Connor was silent. Darcy glanced up and found him watching her with that tinge of regret in his blue eyes. Memories of that horrid night flashed through her mind. The terror combined with the smell of blood pudding. Her stomach churned.
"Ye're looking lovely, Darcy," Connor said softly.
She swallowed hard at the bile in her throat. Yeah, putrid green had always been a becoming color for her.
"Would ye care to dance?"
She shook her head, avoiding his sad eyes. Maggie nudged her under the table and shot her a disapproving frown.
"I… I'm sorry. I can't," Darcy whispered.
Maggie stood. "I'd be delighted to dance with you."
Connor nodded. "Thank you, lass." He raised an arm and escorted Maggie to the dance floor.
Vanda leaned close to Darcy and whispered, "Why are you so mean to Connor? He saved you."
Darcy shook her head, unable to explain. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sight of
Bubbly Blood and Red Velvet Pudding.
Vanda sighed. "You've got to stop fighting it. Remember what Maggie says—everything happens for a reason. And you are meant to be here."
Here? When her mind screamed with every heartbeat to break free and escape? She still dreamed of the sun. She longed to be with her family. She wanted to run on the beach. She wanted to be with Apollo, the sun god. Adam. She wanted to be with Adam.
She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the pain of reality. It flooded over her, washing away her dreams and leaving her feeling cold and empty.
"Oh, no!" Lady Pamela gasped. "Look who just entered the ballroom."
Darcy glanced back. Corky Courrant and her crew from DVN had arrived. Corky surveyed the room, then motioned for her cameraman to follow her. She marched toward the dance floor, obviously intent on first getting footage of the newlyweds.
"That woman is evil," Maria Consuela announced. "I believe she was a torturer during the Spanish Inquisition."
"That is naught but a rumor," the princess assured her. "But she did work at the Tower of London for Henry VIII."
"Oh, mercy." Cora Lee snapped her fan shut. "What if she notices us?"
"I'm sure she already has," Vanda muttered.
"She will come to torture us." Maria Consuela clicked nervously through her rosary beads. "She will tell everyone that the master rejected us for a mortal bruja."
"And she will display our humiliation on television. I simply cannot bear it." Lady Pamela's hand fluttered by her bosom. "Oh, dear, I'm coming down with the vapors!"
"Here." Princess Joanna lifted a bowl of blood pudding to Lady Pamela's nose. "Breathe deeply."
Lady Pamela sniffed and instantly perked up. "Oh, I do say, that smells rather delightful." She leaned over for another whiff.
"Whatever will we do?" Cora Lee tossed her fan onto the table. "I'm so embarrassed. Oh," — she motioned to Lady Pamela's face—"you have a spot on your nose."
Lady Pamela quickly wiped the drop of blood pudding off the end of her snooty nose. "Perhaps we should leave. We could all run to the powder room and hide."
Darcy had had enough. "Why do you all insist on acting like victims?"
Cora Lee cocked her head, her ringlets bouncing. "Because we are."
"You don't have to be." Darcy leaned forward. "Take charge of your own destiny."
Princess Joanna huffed. "But the master—"