The Gentleman: A Vampire Romance Series (The Bryn and Sinjin Series Book 4)

by H. P. Mallory

  Would he reassure me that I was worrying about nothing? Tell me I was getting all bent out of shape over something as insignificant as a silly dream? What if he assumed my reasons for coming to him in the middle of the night had nothing to do with my nightmare? What if he thought I was putting the moves on him? It certainly wasn’t a ludicrous thought, especially considering how enormous his ego was. It knew no bounds.

  Taking another deep breath, I lightly tapped on his door. After a few seconds, I lifted my knuckles and rapped several times, only harder. “Sinjin. It’s me,” I whispered. “Open the door; I need to talk to you.”

  Nothing.

  “Sinjin!”

  Silence.

  I reached for the knob and tried to twist it but the door was locked. My heart kicked into overdrive. The thought that I couldn’t ease the burden from my mind, now that I opted to tell him, nearly suffocated me. I knocked again, but he still wouldn’t answer. I sighed.

  It’s nighttime, he shouldn’t even be sleeping.

  Regardless, there was no way I could go back to sleep. So I chose to take a walk instead. I left the wing in which our bedrooms were located and started across the courtyard, heading for the main house. I strolled along the quiet pathway, taking in the fresh air as I meandered through the rose garden, the cloying scent thick in the air.

  When I reached the waterfall that emptied into the pond, I found Mathilda. Her head was bent and her hands were clasped together in her lap. I never imagined I’d find Mathilda sitting outside alone at this time of the night. I hesitated. The last thing I wanted to do was disturb her. Especially when I wasn’t really sure what she was doing. Strangely enough, it looked like she was meditating.

  With her eyes still closed, she lifted her right hand and summoned me with her index and middle finger. I couldn’t help smiling. I took a deep breath before I approached her.

  Yes, Mathilda would certainly be good company right now. She would know exactly what to make of my nightmare. I was surprised I hadn’t considered going to her in the first place.

  TWO

  Bryn

  I sat down next to Mathilda, and the light mist from the water flowing in the fountain sprayed me like a moist hug. Yellow and orange, and white and black koi fish swam around, coming to the surface for food and gaping with wide, circular mouths.

  A sense of peacefulness and serenity washed over me as soon as I sat next to Mathilda. Hearing the water behind me combined with the fresh air of the countryside helped relieve the tension in my shoulders, which subsided slightly.

  I rested my hands in my lap as I glanced over at her. She looked like she was asleep. Naturally, I didn’t want to interrupt her. We sat silently together for a good fifteen minutes before she stirred or made any kind of movement. When she finally opened her eyes, I was somewhat relieved. I knew she would be more than happy to hear what I had to say. But as I further considered explaining the dream to her, I was suddenly overcome by fear and real concern. If the dream actually were a vision of the future, I would be the villain, the instigator of all the death and destruction it foretold.

  That wasn’t exactly something that was easy to talk about …

  “What troubles you, Bryn?” Mathilda asked. Her singsong voice reminded me of tinkling bells. She lifted her eyes to mine.

  “You always know what I’m feeling before I even tell you,” I answered with a wistful smile. My hands were still resting in my lap, and I turned my body slightly toward her direction. She opened her heavily lidded eyes and blinked, slowly easing the disquiet plaguing my mind. I wasn’t sure if it were just her expression that was relaxing me or her fae magic.

  “It is owing to the fae connection we share through our blood.” She ran her fingers through her long, silvery hair and draped it over her right shoulder. It looked like a river of silver as she twisted it, deftly creating a gorgeous, tornado-like spiral. Her small fingers and petite figure made her appear even more beautiful than I already thought she was. “So tell me, what is bothering you so much that it would cause you to rise in the middle of the night?”

  I immediately ached to spill every detail of the horrible dream I’d had. I was so anxious to know what it meant, but inexplicably I found that I couldn’t. Mathilda was a gentle soul, and a beautiful, white halo seemed to hang about her. To fill her head with the awful, bloody visions of something which could have been nothing more than the derangement of my overwhelmed mind seemed suddenly selfish. Or, at the very least, it hardly seemed fair. Even though I’d fully intended to explain the whole thing to her, now that the time had come, I couldn’t.

  “I just found it hard to sleep for some reason.”

  When she smiled, her green eyes twinkled with compassion and understanding. They visibly possessed an ancient wisdom. Mathilda had always interested me—and I wanted to know more about her—like where she came from and more about her history. But for now, that would have to wait. Mathilda wasn’t the type of person to ask personal questions about. You had to be patient until she volunteered that kind of information whenever she saw fit to do it.

  “That seems to be a pattern,” she said as she eyed me knowingly. I was more than sure she could see right through me. I wasn’t sure why I’d lied to her, because she wasn’t someone you could really lie to. She could read people as easily as the words on the page of a book. She glanced down at her hands and stared back into my eyes before I looked away from her. I was suddenly ashamed for even thinking for a single moment that I could keep something from her. But, regardless of that, I wasn’t ready to open up to her yet.

  As she studied me with her compassionate, warm smile, I became very aware of her natural ability to comfort me and make me feel secure. It seemed like nothing else in the world mattered to her but this exact moment, sitting side-by-side in front of the fountain. Maybe it was something about her eyes that put me more at ease. I couldn’t say exactly what it was, but from the very first moment I met her, I’d always felt the same way.

  “It seems you are not the only one who cannot sleep,” she replied.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I immediately wondered if maybe someone else had experienced the same nightmare. I leaned slightly forward, now eagerly awaiting her next words.

  She glanced up toward the castle and whispered, “Listen closely.” My eyes followed hers at the same time that she reached for my hand. But I wasn’t comfortable with other people touching me so I quickly moved my hand away. Mathilda noticed my aversion, but didn’t hold it against me. She just smiled at me in a way that told me she understood how intimacy and closeness made me uncomfortable.

  “Listen,” she whispered again.

  And then I heard it. A beautiful Scottish lullaby was being sung from the lips of an angel. That angelic voice belonged to Jolie, singing to her infant daughter—the princess, Emma, and my niece. I had never heard anything so rich and beautiful in my entire life. For a moment, I could vividly imagine my niece’s pretty, blue eyes and innocent smile beaming back at my sister. That thought brought a smile to my face—one that was very sincere and real.

  “She’s a wonderful mother,” Mathilda said, breaking the silence between us.

  “Yes, she’s a great mom,” I answered, but mostly to myself. I glanced around the courtyard, noticing the velvet black mantle of night seemed lighter now—and turning more grey. That had to mean the dawn was on her way. “She’s lucky she had a good frame of reference,” I added with a sigh.

  The tinge of jealousy that washed over me for a moment came from remembering how lucky my sister was to have a decent family who raised her. Any affection I received was in the form of endless training, blood, sweat, and tears. And whenever I thought I couldn’t take anymore, Luce would demand that I start all over again.

  But envy wasn’t something I wanted to carry around with me; I knew it didn’t do me any good. It was what it was. The sooner I convinced myself of that, the sooner I could get on with my life.

  “Do you worry that you will no
t make a good mother?” Mathilda’s voice broke into my thoughts.

  “I won’t ever become a mother,” I replied with a scoff. “It’s not in the cards for me.” I wasn’t mother material in the first place, and furthermore, I had no understanding of what proper mothering was. Never mind there was already plenty of proof that I couldn’t procreate. During the period of time when Luce forced me into breeding, I remained barren.

  “Ah, quite the contrary, young Bryn. You will be a mother someday, and when you are, you will be very much like Jolie, wonderful.”

  I huffed. Of course, I knew a lie when I heard one. But it didn’t matter. I was fine never having children. The idea of procreating actually left me frigid and cold. No, I had long embraced my status as a warrior. That was something I knew and was good at, not to mention what I was most comfortable doing.

  I was raised and trained to fight. My purpose was only to protect others, and I did that by honing my Elemental skills. That was a subject in which I was fully confident. Being a mother required instinct, compassion, and patience; all things that were alien to me. That left me one thing to strive for and one thing only: becoming a warrior. It was the fate I’d accepted long ago.

  “You’re much more than a warrior, Bryn,” Mathilda said. My eyes widened as I wondered if she’d read my mind. Was she even capable of reading minds? She placed her motherly hand over mine and a surge of love and positive energy overwhelmed me, yet I instinctively pulled my hand out from under hers. I must not have concealed my thoughts and inadvertently allowed them to be conveyed into her mind. I would have to be better about that.

  Warmth washed over me from my own embarrassment. It was one thing to appear tough in the eyes of my peers and family; and quite another for them to observe my vulnerabilities. Luce hated weakness, which taught me to hate it too. I’d been brought up to suppress my vulnerability and fight with all I had for proof of my strength.

  Sitting next to Mathilda, I could feel the conflict between my own weakness and my warrior strength. Finally, I said, “I am not cut from the same cloth as my sister, Mathilda.”

  “You’re cut from the very same cloth, child. You just had different guardians and different upbringings, but you share the same blood, and the same genes.”

  “Yeah, but our upbringing makes us so different,” I argued. I didn’t even know why I bothered. This seemed such a silly conversation, especially considering I would never have children. But I figured it was better than admitting the real reason I came out here. “Even when I’m around the princess, I feel awkward and unsure of myself, like I’m going to break her accidentally or something.”

  Mathilda laughed heartily. Her head fell back and her mouth dropped open as she belted out that happy sound. When she finished, she turned her loving eyes toward me and ran her fingers down my cheeks. Another gesture that made me uncomfortable.

  “Do you believe everyone is instinctively comfortable around infants? I think not, dear.” She shook her head at the same moment that Jolie stopped singing. I suddenly recalled the reason why I’d left my room in the first place. My heart started to beat faster and I tried to push the violent images aside again. I wished my sister hadn’t stopped singing. Listening to her voice actually calmed me, taking me away from the ugliness of my thoughts.

  “Can I ask you something?” I inquired. The sky was now less grey and turning more of a dark blue.

  “Of course, what is it, Bryn?”

  Mathilda faced me fully in order to listen to my question, and that made me feel important. The way she leaned into me slightly, casting her green eyes on me suggested she was hanging on every word. In that moment, I realized I needed to get my fear out in the open. I had to tell her about my nightmare. “Do you believe that some dreams can be visions or an omen of what is to come?”

  Mathilda held my gaze but remained quiet. She was pondering my words, I could tell. I assumed she wanted to answer the question in a way that I would understand. That’s what made Mathilda different from other people. She invested herself in the person in front of her—she always took the time to answer and explain things. And she did it in a way to suit whomever she was speaking to. She wasn’t flaky or superficial. If she were talking to me, she gave all of herself to the conversation. If she were talking to Jolie, she did the same thing. It was an admirable quality and one I never failed to notice.

  If ever there was a person who emanated tranquility and peace, it was Mathilda. The kindness in her eyes and the gentleness of her touch made me instantly know why Jolie put so much trust into her. Hell, I trusted her now, and I hardly even knew her.

  “Dreams can reflect the subconscious or they might be nothing more than a strong desire on the part of the dreamer. But I also believe that dreams can be visions or reflectors of a future event … either partially or in its entirety. I suppose it depends on the dream and the person having it, as well as how aware they are in their own self-understanding,” she answered.

  A silence descended between us for a few seconds as I thought about what she’d said. I rarely ever remembered my dreams. But long ago, as a young girl, I dreamt of a couple whom I thought were my parents. However, I didn’t know who they were. As far as I could tell, Luce was the only parent I ever had.

  When I turned fourteen, I dreamt of a stunning and handsome man with haunting, kind eyes. I often dreamt of him throughout my life, usually during events that were especially hard for me. But those were the only dreams I could remember. I deemed them as nothing more than the result of an overactive, childish imagination.

  The dreams I had of my parents were sporadic, starting at age seven and ending by the time I turned fourteen. I always chalked them up to nothing more than a young girl’s desire for ideal parents. By the time I turned fourteen, a new reality dawned on me. I knew Luce wasn’t really my parent, despite how often he insisted he was. I also knew I’d never get to meet my real parents or share the love that I envisioned with them when I fell asleep.

  The week my dreams stopped was the same week that Luce threw me into a pit with a bear. I was thirteen, and my fourteenth birthday was merely days away. Even now, I can remember it like it was only yesterday. Luce’s cold eyes bore down on me as he forced me into the pit even though I pleaded with him, begging for his mercy. Sure, I was armed with a sword and my magic, but I was also facing an animal ten times my size.

  That day changed me forever. The bear was the first live creature I’d ever killed. After I was finished, I stood in my bedroom at the camp, looking down at all the bear blood and other parts of it that stained my clothes and skin. I fell to the floor in a fetal position and cried all night. I cried because I’d killed something so beautiful and majestic, and I knew it was wrong but I’d done it anyway. I’d had to. If not, the bear would surely have killed me. But, regardless, neither one of us had had a choice in the matter. We were both thrown together, and it became a situation of kill or be killed.

  That night, my parents, or at least, my dreamt-up version of them, left my dreams for good. That was also the night that he visited me. Mysterious and brooding. He always appeared at a distance, standing with his legs slightly apart and his hands in fists at his sides. With every visit, he lifted his hand toward me as if calling me to join him, but I never did. That was always my cue to turn my back on him. I always ran in the other direction, although I never understood why I didn’t approach him. It wasn’t like he frightened me. On the contrary! This dream man was well beyond handsome, and something about him made me feel safe and somehow protected.

  “Did you have a bad dream?” Mathilda asked after giving me more time to process my thoughts.

  I nodded. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “A nightmare then?”

  “Yes, and I wanted to talk to Sinjin about it, but he wasn’t in his room,” I answered quickly. My worry began to churn my stomach again. “Have you seen him at all this evening?” The dark blue night was rapidly surrendering to a lighter, royal blue as the sun started to ris
e in the east.

  I thought about the last time I’d seen Sinjin. We were training one minute and having a conversation the next. A conversation that made me wince even now; it was still too raw, too close, and too personal.

  “Allow me to help you. Allow me to enlighten you as to what physical love can be between a man and a woman.”

  I remembered those words as if Sinjin were whispering them in my ear at this exact moment. And I also recalled how I felt like I was caving in on myself and couldn’t breathe. His words didn’t entice me at all; they scared me.

  And my response was abrupt. It still weighed heavily on me because I never explained to him how I was feeling, or why I said the things I said.

  “No, I will never allow any man to touch me again. Not you, not anyone.”

  And then I ran. I ran like a scared child. Following the winding trail that led to Kinloch Kirk, I tried to hide from my own demons—and Sinjin, the only man who could manage to stir something up inside of me. But I wasn’t just running to escape him. I also ran to end all of the foreign emotions that tugged inside me.

  Mathilda shook her head. “I have not seen him recently. But I also have not been looking for him.” She smiled. “Was he in your dream, Bryn?”

  I ignored her question as the panic of my nightmare began to rise inside me again. “Maybe Jolie would know where he is.” I stood and nodded toward Mathilda as if to say farewell, but I didn’t wait for her response. Turning, I took off, heading toward my sister’s quarters without realizing that Mathilda was close on my heels until I heard her coming up behind me. I turned to face her and continued to walk, only backwards. “I didn’t realize you were coming with me.”

  “If it’s okay,” she said with a smile, “I’d love to see the princess.” Her smile widened. “I believe she must be the spitting image of you.”

  I laughed. “I hope not, if only for her sake!”

  Mathilda didn’t respond so I turned around and kept walking. When I finally reached the nursery, I knocked on the hardwood door. A few seconds later, my sister opened it, taking a step back to invite us in. She looked surprised to see us.