Sir William's charismatic presence, his power, his romantic influence is magnetic and no match for any mortal man. But Samuel assembles a posse of highly skilled inebriates to defeat an undefeatable vampire. Armed with the sage advice from his wife's Newfoundlander aunt, he devises a master plan that is thoroughly drenched in dark rum. Steeped in eroticism, blood and hilarious eccentricity, Samuel will get back the woman he adores at all costs -- his life depends on it. The ending is a romantic transformation that burns up the pages.

The quiet breathing, the subtle looks, the continuance of body, the fluidity of lithe limbs and the propulsion of unrequited love; all were physiological qualities playing out in him, for he thrived as the ultimate for centuries without equal challenge, until he encountered a free-thinking woman. And every woman wanted him, in the very old past before women were permitted a voice, long after women won emancipation, and well before women knew better of him. All women wanted to be devoured and made whole by him.

But not her.

He was unprepared for her ambivalence, for the unbreakable love she held for her husband that fortified her iron will. He truly believed she would die before betraying their love and because of it, he wanted her all the more. To bed her for one night, before hurling himself into the deep well of eternity, before transferring the burden of knowledge and responsibility, he wanted her to want him, to become a possession of his reality of time and future.

Sir William removed two nectarines from the bottom crisper in the refrigerator and cut the fruit into halves, coring the centre pit and placing the fleshy treats onto a small plate. He then poured a glass of fresh water into a beer pint glass. He smelled the soft, fragrant aroma as he handed the food and drink to Magdalene.

"Kindly follow me into the dining room," my dear. The crispness of the day's light, exploding through the kitchen window, cast long shadows of Sir William's profile against the beige walls.