Knight of Wands (Knights of the Tarot Book 1)

by Mason, Nina

  But for now, for now, she was his to claim. Letting himself off the reins, he put everything he had, everything he’d held back for centuries, into that kiss. She matched his intensity, melting his last shield and making him almost believe she shared his desperate, impossible desire to turn their affair into something more.

  He captured her tongue, sucked it hard, and bit down. She moaned, protesting the pain, but didn’t retreat from him. Clamping down, he sucked with vigor, savoring the salty richness of her blood while his heart beat out a hopeful refrain: if only, if only, if only.

  * * * *

  Alone in the dining room of the castle, Vanessa tapped her booted foot along the oriental carpet in search of the trapdoor into the dungeon. Callum and the butler had gone into town on an errand and would be gone for at least an hour, affording the perfect opportunity to resume her search for the vampire.

  With the lion still lurking, returning to the garden was too risky, but getting into the dungeon through the interior hatch should be a piece of cake, provided she could locate the damn thing. She’d already checked all the corners with no luck and was now working her way around the room’s perimeter.

  Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, boom.

  Eureka! Her pulse quickened under a rush of adrenaline as she pulled back the carpet. Sure enough, there was a hinged hatch cut into the wooden planks underneath. Slipping her fingers through the recessed iron pull, she attempted to lift it. Shit, it was heavier than it looked. Bending her knees, she put her back into it. Yes! The door came up, groaning from disuse, and belched a gust of dank and dust into the dining room.

  She did her best to lay the door down easy, but its weight got the better of her. It dropped on the floorboards with a resounding bang she was sure carried all the way to the maid’s quarters. She listened, heart pounding, for the approach of footsteps. Hearing none, she steeled her nerves and peered into the hole.

  A makeshift wooden ladder descended into total darkness. Luckily, she had the battery-powered torch she’d found underneath the sink in Callum’s en suite. Tucking the flashlight into the waistband of her jeans, she positioned her boots on the rungs and started down, half hoping she wouldn’t find a vampire hiding in the darkness.

  Her dread coiled tighter with every step. It didn’t help that the rickety slats felt ready to snap under her weight…or that the space grew colder and creepier as she descended into cave-like darkness. As she stepped down on the fifth or sixth rung—she’d lost track—the wood did break. Her stomach flew out of her mouth as her foot plunged downward. Panic exploding, she yelped and gripped the rails for dear life, picking up a few splinters in the process.

  Luckily, her boot hooked the next rung, stopping her fall. Carefully, breathlessly, she navigated several more steps until, at long last, her foot touched solid rock. Catching her breath, she looked up. Holy shit. The dining room had to be at least twelve feet above her. If she’d fallen, she would have broken her neck for sure.

  With trembling hands, she pulled out the flashlight and fumbled with the buttons until it came on. The beam fell across block walls of natural stone, thick cobwebs, and cracks oozing lime. The tunnel was narrow, the ceiling as high as the ladder, and the air stale and musty. A chill crawled up her spine, giving her gooseflesh and making her shiver all over. This was starting to feel like a very bad, very stupid idea.

  “Hello?” she called out. “Is anybody down here?”

  Her greeting reverberated, but, as expected, received no reply. Swallowing her trepidation, she set off down the passageway, telling herself she wouldn’t make much of a paranormal investigator if she was afraid of something as innocuous as darkness. A few feet down the passage, her torch dimmed and flickered. Then, something banged, jarring her. An icicle of fear formed inside her breast she realized what she’d heard: someone had closed the trapdoor to the dining room, trapping her in the bowels of the castle. If she did meet the vampire down here in the dark, nobody was around to hear her screams—except whoever had locked her in here, assuming it was indeed a someone and not a something.

  As another chill skittered through her, the flashlight flickered again. Fuck. If the batteries died, she’d be trapped down here in total darkness. Terror closed around her throat like strangling hands. She turned back toward the ladder. Who had closed the trapdoor and why? If it was meant to be a joke, she didn’t find it the least bit funny. But a bigger question loomed: if she managed to climb back up the ladder and somehow summoned the strength to open the hatch, would she find the prankster lying in wait for her?

  The sudden need to pee stabbed her bladder. Great, that was all she needed on top of the icy sweat oozing from her pores. She decided to go forward in hopes of finding the garden exit. Yes, there might be a lion on that end, but there also might not be. Callum had said the people from the wild animal park were on their way to capture the animal, so maybe the danger was gone.

  She walked on, shining the beam across burnt-down torches, rusted manacles, and locked doors. She’d all but forgotten her original purpose in coming down here when she heard something behind her. Heart freezing in her chest, she spun around and flashed the light around, seeing nothing.

  “Hello? Is somebody there?”

  Deciding it was probably a rat, she moved on, heart hammering in her ears. A few yards farther on, she heard what sounded like footfalls behind her. Pulling up again, she moved the beam around while listening for the noise. Had whoever shut the hatch followed her down here? Convinced Callum would never play such a cruel prank—much as she might deserve it—she could come up with only two possible culprits, both of them non-human.

  She moved on, picking up her pace, praying it was the ghost, not the vampire. She was pretty sure the ghost wouldn’t hurt her, but couldn’t say the same for the vampire. As she rounded a corner, the temperature dropped abruptly, chilling the clammy flesh beneath her sweater. As she shivered, something brushed her arm. Squealing like a frightened child, she jumped away, swatting at the point of contact as eeriness slithered through her.

  Shining the beam around again, Vanessa saw something this time: the shimmering image of the ghost she’d met earlier.

  “What are you doing down here?” the spirit inquired.

  “As foolish as it might seem, I’m looking for a vampire.”

  “You won’t find the Vampire of Barrogill down here.”

  Hope sprang in Vanessa’s heart. “So, there is an actual vampire living in the castle?”

  “Aye, lass,” the apparition said. “But not the sort you suppose.”

  “I suppose he’s the sort who drinks blood. What other sort is there?”

  “The sort who can’t see that what he’s been searching for all this time is right in front of him, not unlike yourself.”

  Vanessa wasn’t sure she understood. “Are you suggesting the vampire’s been in front of me the whole time?”

  “While true, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Then, what did you mean?”

  The ghost drew something small from the folds of her gown and handed it to Vanessa. The object was ice-cold and felt like a playing card. Shining the light on its face, she got a start. The card, to Vanessa’s astonishment, was the Knight of Wands.

  Stupefied, she looked from the card to the ghost’s shimmering aspect. “Why did you give this to me?”

  “I think you know.”

  “Look here,” Vanessa said with rising indignation. “I like Callum, quite a lot for somebody I’ve only just met, but that’s as far as it’s going to go. I’m not the sort of woman who needs a knight in shining armor to come to her rescue. Those fantasies are for women who can’t take care of themselves, which isn’t me. I’m my own person, damn it, and plan to keep it that way.”

  “That being the case,” the ghost said, fading away, “I suggest you find your own way out of the dungeon.”

  The apparition was gone, but the tarot card remained in Vanessa’s hand. Flustered, but also relieved not to be in any
immediate danger, she sat down, back against the cold stone wall, to contemplate what she’d been told. What she was looking for was right in front of her. Did the ghost mean the vampire or Callum? The Knight of Wands suggested she meant the latter, which pleased Vanessa more than she was willing to admit.

  Chapter 7

  That afternoon, Callum took Vanessa to Wick to fulfill his promise to take her shopping for naughty lingerie. The shop, named Indecent, had a diva-chic aesthetic with pale pink walls and a checkerboard marble floor. In the center, a beaded chandelier hung over a circular table stacked with lacey underwear. In the back, near the draperied dressing rooms, a French-looking settee and matching pair of chairs flanked a magazine-strewn table.

  Callum took her hand as they entered, which she liked, especially when the salesclerk, a dark-haired beauty with striking blue eyes, glanced their way. The look she gave Vanessa was both envious and appraising, as if she was sizing up her competition.

  “Can I help you find something special?”

  Vanessa offered her a cool smile that said, “Back off, bitch. He’s mine.” Only he wasn’t, was he? In another two days, she’d be long gone and he’d be fair game. For some reason, the idea bothered her. Tamping down the unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling, she said, “No thanks. We’d just like to look around for now, if that’s all right.”

  “Be my guest.”

  She proceeded to look around, towing Callum along by the hand. Floor racks and wall-mounted hooks displayed a wide assortment of bras, panties, corsets, garters, merry widows, teddies, baby-doll nighties, and everything in between. A line of mannequins by the front window exhibited elegant silk nightgowns and peignoirs. Molded plastic female torsos modeled more bras and bustiers from atop rounds and tables.

  Squeezing his hand, Vanessa said, “Tell me if you see something you like.”

  “It might be quicker to point out the things I don’t.” He gave her an adorably boyish grin.

  “In that case, tell me if you see anything you’d like me to try on.”

  Both golden eyebrows shot up. “Will you model for me?”

  “Will you get hard if I do?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  “If I don’t, we won’t be buying it,” he whispered with a salacious grin. “I can tell you that much.”

  She couldn’t help smiling at his playfulness. He looked like a kid in a candy shop with a penny burning a hole in his pocket. Shit, she was really starting to like him. They hadn’t talked about trying to work something out once the fling was over, but maybe she should bring it up and see what he said. On second thought, that was a terrible idea. Much as she disliked the thought of walking away, she couldn’t she see herself juggling her career and a long-distance relationship.

  Callum stopped before a mannequin modeling a pink bra and panties trimmed with black lace. A matching garter-belt held up thigh-high fishnets. The grin he gave her was rakishly appealing. “How about this?”

  She ran an approving eye over the ensemble. At least he had good taste in lingerie. Not that she was surprised, given the way he dressed and decorated his castle. “I’m game. But let’s keep looking.”

  The next mannequin he stopped before displayed a full corset over a frilly, pale pink crinoline. It was pretty, though a bit too Little Bo Peepish for her taste.

  “Get me a crook and a lamb and I’m all set.” Her tone dripped sarcasm.

  His smile slumped. “You don’t fancy it?”

  She leaned close and, keeping her voice low, said out of the corner of her mouth, “Would you seriously want to fuck me in that?”

  “Oh, aye.”

  The fire in his eyes shot a thunderbolt straight to her sex. She turned round to look for the dark-haired clerk who’d greeted them. Catching the woman’s eye, Vanessa called out, pointing at the mannequins in turn, “Could I try this on? And that pink set over there.”

  “By all means.” The woman came right over. “I’m Monique, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Vanessa forced herself to smile. For some reason, Monique rubbed her the wrong way.

  Callum very affably offered the salesgirl his hand and introduced himself.

  “Oh, I know who you are,” Monique purred, keeping hold of Callum’s hand while unabashedly ogling him.

  Possessiveness crashed down on Vanessa like a Malibu mudslide. He might not be hers for the long haul, but he was hers for now.

  Monique met her “back off” glare with a look that said “may the best woman win” as she solicitously asked, “What sizes do you need, honey?”

  “I’m a thirty-six D,” Vanessa said proudly.

  Vanessa watched with venom in her heart as Monique gathered the things she’d asked to try on. Then, with a seductive smile at her prey, she ushered her rival into one of the draperied cubicles at the back of the store. Callum parked himself in one of the chairs, crossed his leg over his knee, and selected a magazine from the assortment on the table.

  Vanessa had chosen something easy to slip on and off for their shopping trip: a simple floral dress and strappy high-heeled sandals. Once alone, she undressed and tried on the pink-and-black set with the corset-style garter belt. As she wrestled with the hooks and eyes on the lingerie, her jealousy rode the escalator to the next floor as she overheard the saleswoman blatantly flirting with Callum. How dare that scheming bitch hit on him while she was getting changed! Not that Vanessa could blame her for trying. Callum was amazing. If he didn’t live in Scotland, she’d be thinking seriously about keeping him around.

  Good God. Was she falling for him? To do so would be incredibly stupid under the circumstances. First of all, she’d come here to do a job, not to find a boyfriend. Secondly, Mr. Armstrong didn’t like Callum Lyon. If they continued to see each other, she’d have to sneak around behind her boss’s back, which would only complicate her life. Plus, she didn’t feel comfortable being dishonest—here or at home—and was a terrible liar. Mr. Armstrong would see through her deceptions as quickly as Callum had.

  She checked herself in the mirror, trying to imagine what Callum could have done to give her boss such a low opinion of him. Should she ask what happened between them? Deciding she would—eventually—she drew aside the dressing-room curtain and stepped out into the shop.

  Monique was perched on the settee facing Callum, her overly familiar body language making her intentions glaringly obvious. A sudden, strong compulsion to scratch out her pretty blue eyes blasted through Vanessa. Swallowing the urge, she ventured forth and inserted herself between the two.

  “Well…what do you think?” Faking a sunny smile, she turned to and fro to give him a view of all angles.

  As he checked her out, a grin hitched up one side of his mouth. “You look good enough to eat.” Peeking around her to Monique, he added, “Can you get her some stockings to try?”

  “What kind?”

  He flicked his thumb toward the first mannequin. “That kind.”

  “Fishnets?”

  “Aye, and some plain black ones, too. With seams up the backs.”

  When Monique set off on her errand, Vanessa stepped up to him and bent over to give him an eyeful of cleavage. Slipping a hand inside the bra, he rubbed his thumb across her nipple, shooting a flaming arrow of lust straight to her sex.

  She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Is it making you hard?”

  Before he could answer, she reached between his legs and gave his package a squeeze, finding the answer she wanted. He removed his hand from her bra and moved it between her legs. As he teased her through the crotch of her panties, she felt an onrush of moisture the shop would doubtless not appreciate.

  “Do you think they’d let me have my way with you in the changing room?” He cleared his throat. “Purely to test the efficacy of the merchandise, of course.”

  “I somehow doubt it.” She bent to kiss him. “Though I wouldn’t put you out if they agreed.”

  As Monique returned, Vanessa straightened up and turned to take the stockings.
Monique, pretty features pinched, kept hold of the packages. “I’m afraid I can’t let you try them on unless you’re planning to buy them.”

  “If she wants them, I’ll buy them,” Callum inserted. “I would buy her the moon and stars if she wanted me to.”

  Glowing triumphantly, Vanessa snatched the stockings from Monique’s hands and returned to the dressing room. As she slipped into the Bo Peep ensemble, she heard Monique say, “Independent lingerie shops are becoming going concern, and I’m thinking of opening a second one down in Inverness…but could really use an investor.”

  Outrage crackled through Vanessa. Maybe she couldn’t have Callum, but he deserved better than a gold-digger like Monique—not that she had room to talk, since she’d set out to use him, too. But not for his money. Nor was she using him anymore. She genuinely liked him. Much more than was sensible when they were no more than two passing ships.

  Or were they…?

  Give your Knight of Wands a chance to change your mind about love.

  The ghost, too, had shown her the Knight of Wands and urged her to give Callum a chance. Powerful forces, it would appear, were pushing them together. While she couldn’t see staying with him in Scotland, maybe she ought to lower the shields she’d built against him—and love.

  What’s the worst that could happen?

  Only heartbreak, which she would get over…or experience anyway if she never saw him again.

  Monique was still jabbering to him about investing in her new shop. Clearing her throat, Vanessa stepped out of the dressing room and did a little twirl beside his chair, fanning out the crinoline to show off the black lace garters underneath.

  “Well?” She was eager for his reaction and to put the clerk in her place.

  The lust that darkened his eyes made words unnecessary. Victory sang in Vanessa’s heart as she returned to the dressing room to try on the last outfit.

  Last and least, she thought with a devilish smile as she held up the skimpy black T-shirt and garters combination. After slipping it on, she felt too exposed to leave the dressing room, so she stuck her head through the crack in the curtains and looked his way. “Callum, baby…could you come here for a minute?”