The crunch of footsteps approaching the church alerted us. The oaken door cracked open, and we stared at the shadow figure framed in the aperture. In our first thrills of love, we had waited too long. Prentiss would discover Ranulf and me wrapped in our tender embrace in moments. Frantically, I grabbed my companion's icy hand and rushed toward the side door. Our footfalls echoed loudly against the flagstone floor.

"Hello?" my fiancé called, his voice raised in question.

The door slammed behind us, and we stood at the graveyard's edge. Deftly, I wove around the tombstones I had known all my life. I halted behind the one belonging to Patience Mowbray and her stillborn baby boy. Ranulf squatted beside me, panting for breath.

"The sunlight..." my lover gasped, shielding his eyes quickly.

The morning sun hung low on the horizon, casting a bright welcome to the day. All my life, I delighted in the dawn, often waking early to watch it make its first appearance. I longed to share the moment with my lover. However, I realized he had not encountered daylight in many years.

"Oh, Ranulf," I mourned, tears welling against my eyelids.

"Blind," he muttered, tightly holding his palms against his eyes. "I'm blind."

Bewildered, I sunk into the ground behind the gravestone. We had to leave instantly. At any second, Prentiss could appear. He may have devoted himself to his prayers or followed us into the cemetery. Anxiously, I glanced toward the church, willing him to stay inside. Our escape depended upon it.

"Give me a few moments, Norah," Ranulf whispered reassuringly. His slim fingers parted slightly, allowing a little sunlight to penetrate. "I must adjust to the light."

I gnawed on my bottom lip apprehensively. Time stood still. My companion removed his hands from his face and squinted uncomfortably. Tears streamed from his irritated, bloodshot eyes. I caressed his arm in an attempt to reassure him. Finally, he blinked and smiled at me affectionately.

"The first train to London leaves at twenty past six," I announced impatiently. "We must make that train, Ranulf. We must hurry." I threw a hasty look over my shoulder, expecting Prentiss's appearance.

Squatting, we dodged behind the tombstones until we reached a copse of trees behind the churchyard. Grabbing hands, we rushed into the small forest. Ranulf swatted at low overhanging branches, clearing a path for me to follow. Breaking free, we sprinted onto the main road. The George Inn stood at the crossroads, the last building before the station. I glanced furtively over my shoulder and pulled my companion toward our destination.

The London train chugged, and steam billowed from its stack. We barely had time to purchase tickets before it departed. Hurrying toward the purchase window, I fumbled in my purse for the fare. Slamming the coins on the counter, I demanded the tickets.

"You're cutting it a bit short, Miss Norah," Sam Wheaton, the station master, quipped. He lackadaisically counted out the farthings and shillings I pushed toward him.

"Please, Sam, can't you count a bit quicker," I insisted impatiently.

"Well..." The elderly attendant began, ogling me over his half glasses. "Say, aren't you marrying the curate today, Miss Norah?"

Aghast, I stared at Sam Wheaton. Outside, the train chuffed again, and the pistons began to turn. Tears of fury sprang to my eyes.

"Surely you can see the lady is in a hurry," Ranulf cut in, inserting himself between me and the ticket master. "We cannot miss this train."

The sudden authority in my companion's voice startled Sam Wheaton. He cupped my coins in his shaky palm and dispatched the tickets quickly. The Baron's ward took my arm, and we scurried toward the departing train. It began to move as we rushed along the aisle, searching for an empty compartment. Finally, Ranulf swung open a door, and with a sudden lurch, we tumbled in.

"Phew," I finally exhaled and leaned against my companion.

The long London-bound express pulled out of Burnley-upon-Tyne. I peered out the open window and watched the George Inn slide out of view. Sadness overwhelmed me as I said goodbye to my hometown for the last time. We had not discussed our final destination. Once we reached the capital, we would make that decision.

Ranulf grasped my hand, and I snuggled into his shoulder. We had the compartment to ourselves. However, an older woman approached our carriage when we stopped at the next station. She glared at us suspiciously and hesitated in the doorway. I willed her to go away, but she finally entered reluctantly. Perching on the opposite red velvet bench, she continued to ogle us.

"Good morning, Madame," my lover greeted.

The aged woman raised her eyebrows. His thick Romanian accent set her on edge. She clasped her worn carpetbag securely on her lap. Surreptitiously, she eyed the coach door seeking a means of escape. However, the engine released steam, and the train chugged out of the station, trapping her.

I sat up quickly and put a space between Ranulf and me. Still, the older woman continued to scrutinize us. The stiff white lace at her throat seemed to choke her. She hooked her arthritic fingers into it and yanked it from beneath her chin. Her black worsted skirt lay smoothly across her ankles, a small round hat perched on her gray hair. The artificial daisy standing up from the crown looked wilted.

"Good morning," I cheerily echoed Ranulf's greeting. "Are you traveling through to London?" I hoped to break the ice.

"Eloping, I expect," the woman growled with Victorian sternness. "Your father will be after you, young miss," she warned.

"My father is dead, Madame," I snapped tersely. "My mother too."

"Humpff," our elderly companion snorted. She lapsed into silence and stared out the window.

At the next stop, she hastily rushed from the compartment. Ranulf and I exchanged furtive looks, then burst into raucous laughter.

"Eloping, I expect," I mimicked, giggling.

My lover pulled me close and kissed me deeply. We remained in our embrace until the train chugged to attention. No one joined us, and we continued alone in the carriage.

"We will check into the hotel as Baron and Baroness von Helfin," Ranulf announced as we drew closer to our destination.

"Bah...Bah...Baron von Helfin?" I exclaimed, the name suddenly horrifying me. "Wha...Why?"

"My darling, following the decease of my dear uncle," my companion remarked, "I am the Baron von Helfin. Vlad is dead, also. He has left no other heir."

"But I thought your name was Zamphir," I muttered in confusion.

"And so it is," Ranulf explained. "The von Helfin title is inherited. We passed it down from male heir to male heir. Twice it passed through the female line. My uncle was Nicolai Mihai Albescu—Baron von Helfin. His grandmother was the last woman to inherit. Now it will pass through my mother—Lavinia Albescu Zamphir. Do you understand, my love?"

"I..." I began to protest. Then, I bowed my head in acceptance. "Yes, I understand."

"When we marry, you will become The Baroness von Helfin," my companion continued, pulling me close. "It is an ancient title. Your son will become the next Baron."

"Does this mean we have to return?" I stared at Ranulf wide-eyed and began to tremble.

The thought of returning to the derelict castle atop its craggy precipice sent shivers down my spine. Fear overtook me, and I buried my head in my lover's shoulder. Pulling me close, he kissed the top of my head and sat silently beside me.

"I must return, my love. It is my duty," Ranulf explained following an elongated pause. "It is up to you, Norah, to decide if you wish to accompany me. If you decide not to, we must part in London. You can return to your home and your...um...your Prentiss if you desire."

Prentiss? Oh, no, I could not accept Prentiss as my husband. I pictured him returning to the vicarage and awaiting my appearance at the breakfast table. When I did not arrive, he would ask Mrs. Halifax to check my room. The new vicar's wife would return with the envelope addressed to the curate.

I imagined his fury when he realized I had jilted him moments from the altar. Prentiss would search for me and attempt to bring me back for the ceremony. Clenching my fists, I determined not to accompany him. Regardless of the circumstances, my love for Ranulf meant more than anything else. Finally, I agreed to return with him to Romania.

"Promise me we will do something for Mama," I stated, squeezing his arm. "I...I want to give her a decent burial. Please, Ranulf? It would mean so much to me."

I glanced at him wistfully, awaiting his response. I envisioned my mother floating at the bottom of that dreadful well. Her pale dead face haunted me. I desired a decent burial if I could not return her to Gray Friar's cemetery to repose beside Papa.

"Of course, my dearest," Ranulf responded with alacrity. "Your Mama was my uncle's wife also—in a manner of speaking. She will lay in the castle crypt beneath the chapel."

"The chapel?" I asked, sitting up straighter. I had not realized such a place existed in the hellish castle.

"At one time, the von Helfin's were deeply religious," my companion responded, a slight smile curving his reddened lips. "Uncle expected all to attend morning and evening prayers. However, when uncle became..." he paused, momentarily, "afflicted, they ceased."

I settled comfortably against the velvet seat, relieved Mama would receive a proper entombment. I loved her and Papa with all my heart and wanted her to repose comfortably.

We crossed from England to France the following day and arrived in Paris by nightfall. In the morning, Ranulf escorted me to Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, a small church near the Pantheon, where we pledged our lives in holy matrimony. Fearing Prentiss's appearance, we curtailed our honeymoon and boarded the Orient Express for Budapest.

"Von Helfin castle was quite opulent before my uncle's affliction," my new husband explained once we settled into our compartment. "I recall many sumptuous gatherings when I was a boy. It rapidly fell into disrepair during the dark days. Of course, we were all afflicted. I wanted so much..."

Tears welled in Ranulf's eyes as he recalled his past life as a vampire. I understood him completely. Inwardly, he railed against his nightmare existence. Often, in the night, he awoke with the taste of blood in his mouth. I comforted him as best as I could. He assured me that, in time, the situation would fade.