Midnight Secrets

by Jennifer St Giles

  Instead of sinking his fangs into the woman’s neck, the vampire brushed his lips over her throbbing pulse and lightly teased her skin with the tip of his fangs. “I can feel the heat of your blood, my lady. I can almost taste your richness. You make my blood surge for the pleasure of the hunt and the need for a mate,” the vampire said, pulling her into his velvet bed until she knelt between his legs.

  She could feel him too, the heat of him, the lure of his desire for her. She’d only known the scorn of her plainness, the brunt of rejection, and the cut of her loneliness. He looked at her as if she were Venus. His want was greater than anything she’d ever known and more frightening than anything she’d ever experienced.

  She turned away, trying to fight his pull, knowing instinctively that her soul hung in the balance. But he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  The growing surge of her own want forced her to meet his demand. She lifted her gaze to his, and he smiled as he stared deeply into her eyes, entering her soul.

  “You’re mine, my beauty.” He reached up and pulled loose the tie of her cloak, letting it fall from her shoulders. Then he slid open the buttons of her gown, discarding her fichu and her modesty.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “Call me Armand. As Solomon feasted upon his love, so I shall you for eternity.” He tugged her gown from her shoulders, exposing her bosom and the pounding of her heart. Then he bent to taste the creamy silk of her flesh.

  Heat swept through me, sending everything inside me into a jumble. Good heavens! I jumped up and threw the book under my cot, stripping off my dress and underclothes to take yet another meager bath in the wash basin.

  The ewer and the basin were empty. I couldn’t believe it. My first response was to call our housekeeper and make a gentle complaint about the oversight. I’d made it across the room and had my hand on the doorknob when it hit me that I wasn’t at home. There was no housekeeper here to fill my basin at this late hour, because filling my basin was my responsibility to take care of, in and amongst the many hours that I spent laboring. Tears stung my eyes.

  I knew I’d find water in the kitchens. A lot of water. I could even have heated water. There was also that discarded hip-bath in the storeroom. Perhaps for just a short while I could make use of it. Blissful relief and heavenly cleanliness was but a daring stairwell’s descent away.

  Without giving myself a chance to think twice, I hurriedly slipped on my soft cotton nightdress along with my light robe, grabbed soap, milk and rose cream, and quietly left my room. At the moment I didn’t care if Mrs. Frye discovered me, or if the whole of the castle saw me naked.

  Tonight, very little moonlight filtered through the windows. The small candle I held only let me see my next step. My ears strained to catch the slightest sound, but I heard nothing. In fact, for an old castle, it was unnaturally quiet. By the time I reached the kitchens, my nerves were scraped raw by the folly of my own imagination about what might be lurking in the dark shadows around me.

  Upon second consideration, spending any more time than absolutely necessary in the kitchens alone was not a good idea. So my dream to slip into a hot bath in the discarded tub quickly changed to gathering a ewer of water and going back to my room, though I didn’t know how I would manage to carry the water, my things, and a candle.

  I’d just filled the ewer and reached for my soap and cream when the voices of gentlemen and booted footsteps grew louder, as if coming my way. In my haste to blow out the candle, I spilled water down the front of my gown and on the floor. I set the ewer on the counter, looking for a rag to clean up the mess so no one would slip on the spill.

  “When are you going to free yourself from this elaborate crypt you’ve buried yourself in?” The unfamiliar man’s voice came on the heels of booted steps as several men entered the kitchens.

  Good Lord! I ducked instantly down, searching for an escape before I could be caught.

  “I’m content,” Sean answered, the deep richness of his lilting voice unmistakable. Light flooded the room, and I slid beneath the counter.

  “Good God. You and Blackmoor both!” another man exclaimed. “It’s a bloody shame. This rift between you has got to end.”

  “It will end when one or both of us are dead, Colin. If you and Ashton wish to persist in discussing this topic, then you’d best leave now.”

  “Bloody hell, but you’re a cold bastard. Your brother said to tell you—”

  “Nothing. Alex said nothing. I meant what I said, Colin.”

  The chilling slice of Sean’s tone pierced right to the center of my stomach, leaving me feeling queasy. I huddled deeper into the corner under the counter.

  “He’s right, Drayson. There’s no point in resurrecting Lady Helen’s murder—”

  “No bloody point? Good God, man. This whole situation is my fault. In eight years I’ve yet to forget. Every time I shut my eyes at night, I see her battered face, and every night I suffer the regret of the damned. If I hadn’t told the constable that I’d seen you or Blackmoor exit the maze, none of this would have ever—”

  “Enough!”

  Steps grew closer and the sight of black boots tucked into black pants that molded themselves intriguingly to muscular legs moved in front of me, and I nearly gasped aloud. Instead of the sure-footed, predatory pace I expected, he had to make use of a cane. Not heavy use, but enough to show me his need of the dragon headed cane was necessary and not an affectation.

  In the echoing wake of his shout, I heard Sean sigh. Then he spoke softly, but still faced the wall, leaving his back to the men in the room. “Colin, what you don’t understand is there is nothing you or anyone could have done to stop what happened, nor what is to come. I’ve lost my appetite tonight. Why don’t you and Ashton come back tomorrow? It will be a better night for hunting anyway.”

  His voice held such despair that I had to squeeze my hands into fists to keep from trying to soothe anything within reach, even if it was the tightness in my own chest. Then his last sentence filtered through. Hunting? What sort of hunting occurred at night? A flash of the vampire pulling the woman into his velvet crypt blazed before my eyes.

  “Bloody hell, I’ve—”

  “Said more than you should have, Colin. Let’s go to the pub and come back tomorrow.”

  “Novel idea, Ashton,” Sean said dryly. “I’ll see you both then. But make it a little later. Around midnight."

  “But—”

  “Bloody hell, Colin, shut up. If there’s more, save it for the pub. Sorry, we’ll be back tomorrow at midnight and be hungrier for the treat. She’s as bright as Venus you say?”

  “A beauty. I’ll see you then.”

  My thoughts rioted. Hunt? Venus? Beauty? Good Lord!

  Another deep sigh echoed softly followed by receding steps told me the men had left. I kept my breaths shallow, doing my best not to make the slightest noise, waiting for Sean to leave, but he didn’t. He stood facing the wall for what seemed like forever.

  When he turned, he walked directly to the counter I hid beneath. Then he knelt, grabbed my arm, and hauled me out into the light like a sack of potatoes. Potatoes that had turned completely to mush.

  My pulse pounded to such a deafening sound I couldn’t hear a single thought other than I knew I was done for. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, irrationally feeling that if I couldn’t see him then maybe he’d just disappear.

  “Well, what excuse do you hav—” His voice died into a hiss.

  Silence pressed so heavily upon me that I thought it had suffocated me until I realized I’d forgotten to breathe. Sucking in air, I opened my eyes, surprised to find Sean staring at me as if frozen as well. I followed the direction of his gaze, looking downward. My robe had fallen open and the water I’d spilt on my nightdress had rendered it transparent. My breasts might as well have been completely uncovered.

  “Oh, God!” I cried.

  “From what I see, you ought to be praising Him rather
than lamenting.” His green gaze feasted hungrily on my breasts, much as the vampire in the book had feasted upon the woman.

  Don’t bite me, I thought as my vision went dark; a roar much like that of sea deafened me as a black tide tried to swallow me completely.

  Chapter Seven

  I reeled and saw the cold hard stone of the floor rise to meet me. Just before I collided with it, a rough jerk pulled me back and I landed with my head propped against Sean’s hard thighs. He’d caught me, cushioning my fall by easing me and himself to the floor.

  “Fainting won’t save you.” His dark brows drew to an exasperated frown over eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  I didn’t care what the consequences were. I would not succumb to this man as the woman in the vampire book had. I glared at Sean and tried to muster a formidable outrage. “Who needs to faint? I’m certain that any moment now, your chivalrous impulses will reassert themselves, and you’ll apologize for dragging me across the floor like a barbarian.”

  It was the best I could manage at the moment because every muscle inside me had the substance of drifting sand.

  The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and I stared at them, wondering at the deceptively soft fullness of his lips. Were his teeth a little pointed?

  Good Lord. I had to be losing my mind. There were no such things as vampires. My grandfather’s impossible stories of Celtic lore and Druid magic had apparently seeded a wild imagination inside of me after all.

  “She speaks like the most proper of ladies, but her eyes sing a different tune. Your fascination with my mouth isn’t going to save you either. What is the wandering rose doing here dressed like this?” He sniffed the air then frowned. “Well, not quite a rose tonight, I’m afraid. I want an answer. What are you doing here?”

  I blinked, shocked. “You…you…dare to tell me I smell?” I was incensed. “I’ll have you know that if you had proper bathing facilities for your employees and clean uniforms, then I wouldn’t have been down here looking for bathing water. I wouldn’t have spilt water on myself when I heard you and your friends, and my indelicate smell and improper dress would have never been brought to your attention. This whole incident is your fault.”

  “Indeed. Servants now require bathing facilities in addition to free use of my library? Are there any other grievances that need addressing, or undressing, in your opinion?” he asked, glancing back at my breasts, which felt oddly on fire and still exposed at the moment despite my concealing robe.

  “Yes, since you’ve asked. Fresh uniforms daily. Higher wages. More time than just a half-day Sunday to see family. And hope. Hope of a future.” I shoved my elbow back so that I could angle up from his lap and face him with some measure of dignity.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered, dumping me off him.

  I landed with a thud on the floor. Now free of his grasp, I quickly got to my feet, still clutching my robe closed, and started to run from the room. He groaned and I peeked over my shoulder. When I saw that he still sat on the floor, I skittered to a stop. He had his eyes shut and appeared to be taking deep breaths.

  “Are you ill?” I said, taking a cautious step toward him.

  “I’ll live.” His voice rasped deeply. He still didn’t open his eyes.

  Surely, I hadn’t harmed him. All I did was sit up. And I was so little compared to his size. “You’ve not a very stalwart constitution.” I stepped closer and frowned down at him.

  He opened his eyes then, a direct, hard stare that slammed into me like a desert wind. He didn’t have to say a word to tell me very little separated me from finding out just how stalwart his constitution was. “Perhaps that was a hasty assessment.” I backed away.

  “Very. Not to mention erroneous as well.” He grabbed his cane and swiftly stood in a very stalwart, healthy way.

  “Perhaps that too.” I moved around so that the counter was between us and the servants’ stairs were right behind me. He arched at brow at me, his keen gaze raking down my body, making me feel as if I wore only my wet gown, if anything at all.

  “Do you need proof?” He stepped toward me, his lips curving into a very sensual smile that wrapped around me, urging me closer to him.

  “No,” I yelped, louder than I meant. His draw upon me was so strong that I had to back to the stairs to feel proper.

  His expression changed suddenly as if pained and he turned from me, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side. “Good night.” His voice turned harsh, so unlike the teasing amusement just moments ago.

  “But—” I bit my lip. I felt as if I’d hurt him in some way, and I couldn’t leave.

  “Leave me.” He spoke so loudly, so forcefully that something akin to fear snaked down my spine.

  I turned and dashed up the servants’ stairs blindly. Somehow I reached the safety of my room without falling. Once again I stood with my back to my locked door, gasping for air. I didn’t move for a very long time. Finally, when I could stand no longer and had heard no odd noises, no steps in the corridor, and no tap of a cane against stone or wood, I crawled into bed. Once my head hit the pillow, I curled myself into a ball, pheasant shell in hand, and cried.

  I cried for a bath. I cried because I smelled and my skin itched. I cried for home and my family, but most of all I cried for Mary.

  A sharp rap on our door brought me and Bridget stumbling quickly to our feet, fearful that we were late, then confused, for the darkness of the night had yet to be softened by the predawn light.

  “Blimey,” Bridget muttered, stumbling to the door. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Janet and Adele.”

  Bridget opened the door, yawning. “What’s a matter with ya?”

  The Oak sisters wore matching expressions of worry. “We were ’oping you’d know. Mrs. Frye wants us all downstairs in the laundry room immediately.”

  “It’s three in the mornin’,” Janet said. “Shameful the way she works us so ’ard.”

  “Worse than that, I tell ya,” Adele added.

  Bridget grabbed her dress and slid it over her head. Wincing, I did the same and nearly choked on the smell of my uniform. As I put on my stockings and my shoes, I quickly came to the conclusion that if I didn’t get a bath soon, I just might expire. At least my discomfort kept me from dwelling on what had happened after I’d fallen asleep late into the night.

  I had dreamed about Mary for the second time. I heard her calling to me as if she needed my help. This time we weren’t in the sea. We were in the castle. I caught sight of her in a corridor, but when I ran toward her, I could never get close enough to touch her. Her white gown billowed from her slight form like a ghostly cloud as she led me to the marbled center hall then up the winding stairs to the second floor. At the third set of double doors on the left, she stopped, fell to her knees and begged me not to—

  I don’t know what she wanted from me, for that was the exact moment Janet and Adele had knocked. A heaviness settled inside me as I puzzled over and over what I had dreamed. I wanted to know the significance of it, and I definitely wanted to know if there were double doors on the second floor, and whose room was third on the left?

  After Bridget and I dressed, the four of us hurried downstairs, surprised to find Mrs. Murphy hard at work in the kitchens. Fires blazed in the stone hearths where iron cauldrons bubbled. She wiped her hands on her apron then set them on her ample hips. “I’ve never seen the likes of this in all of my days, I tell you. The Killdaren has gone completely mad, he has.”

  “What is it?” Janet whispered.

  “What are ye boiling?” Adele asked as she peered into one of the pots, wincing at the rising steam.

  “Ourselves it seems, lass.” Mrs. Murphy threw her hands in the air.

  Bridget, Janet, and Adele gasped, taking frightened steps backward. “Ye cannot mean that,” Bridget cried, her freckles blanching white and her blue eyes huge with horror.

  “A Mrs. Turnbill did that over in Derry. ’eard about it last year. Boiled her maid and sold the bro
th she did.” Janet grabbed Adele’s hand and they took several more steps to the door.

  Bridget stamped her foot. “Ack, this is nonsense. He’s a vampire, I tell ya. They drink yer blood, not boil yer bones.” She glared at Mrs. Murphy. “Now tell us the truth, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Murphy burst into laughter. “A vampire?” Mrs. Murphy gasped and laughed more. “The Killdaren has you believing those rumors, does he?” She shook her head. “The lad wants every one of us to take a bath! He’s filled half the laundry with tubs. You’d have thought the world had come to an end, the way he had my Murphy and Stuart and Jamie rearranging everything in the middle of the night as if the Queen herself had made a decree.”

  “A bath!” Bridget, Janet and Adele’s gasps rang twice as loud as mine, and their wide-eyed expressions were more horrified than they’d been at the notion of being boiled alive. I laughed so hard that tears brimmed my eyes.

  Mrs. Murphy shooed us toward the laundry room. “Best hurry up. Mrs. Frye will be inspecting the results before the morning meal.”

  Bridget, Janet and Adele all groaned as if in pain. Meanwhile my heart sang as if I’d just been handed the crown jewels.

  “There isn’t any point in complaining and ye lasses best accustom yourself to the notion. Yer to bathe every Friday, more often if ye’ve the want. Now hurry up with it. I’ve a number of chores that need doing.”

  I led the way to the laundry, dragging the others with me. Entering the room, I stood a moment amazed at its transformation. Along the back wall in four barn-like stalls sat three hip-baths and one tub, each with its own privacy curtain pulled to the side. Steam rose from the tubs in a blessedly welcoming mist.

  He did this, I thought with wonder.

  Rushing over to the full tub, I dipped my fingers into the water and sighed. On a table beside the tub someone had placed a large bar of soap and a soft cotton cloth and my bath things I’d left on the counter in the kitchen last night. In seconds I had my shoes and stockings off, and had started on the buttons of my dress when I remembered the curtain. Turning to reach for it, I found Bridget, Janet and Adele still standing at the doorway, staring at me is if I’d gone insane.