“Careful.” He grasped my shoulders; his hands were hot, burning through my dress all the way to my senses. I tried to straighten and he held me back, pressing the solid fire of his chest to me. “I imagine your skin is much like the petal of a rose; soft, seductive and fragrant, just right to taste, to sink myself into.” He slid his hand to my neck, brushing my hair aside, readying my skin for him. My lips parted as I waited. My heart thundered for I knew his mouth was about to connect with my neck much as a vampire would feast—
“Good Lord! What is this madness?” I jerked away to face him, searching for my outrage, which seemed to have lost itself in yearning. The man, dressed again in black, loomed more dangerously than before, because today there was a smile to his lips and humor in his green eyes. At the moment, I would have preferred threatening. “If you dreamed of roses, then I suggest you check your bed for thorns.”
He laughed. “I’m sure there aren’t any there. You’re spitting them from your glare.”
“As you deserve. You take liberties, sir.”
“You’ll disappoint me if you cannot be honest. You fell into my arms today. You have to admit that, lass.”
His Irish lilt in my ear, so deeply sensual, could have made me admit to treason. “Yes, but it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pulled me into here and frightened me so. Where am I?”
“You don’t know? I thought perhaps you were lurking outside my doors for a chance to peek inside.”
“I wasn’t,” I gasped. “I was…just stepping into the shade of the arbor for a moment.” I couldn’t tell him the truth, for he’d ask too many more probing questions, and I’d be telling him more than I should. My thoughts grew muddy whenever he was near.
He lifted a disbelieving brow, which seemed to have the same effect on me as his voice whispering in my ear. Perhaps Andromeda had serious cause to question my sanity. I seemed to be truly losing my mind.
He moved to me. “I don’t think it was fright that melted you against me, lass.”
I slipped around the table to face him. “Yes. Yes, it was. Didn’t you hear my heart pounding?”
“I felt the heat of your blood racing beneath my fingertips. But considering the way your lips opened as if just waiting for mine, I don’t think you had fear on your mind. Shall we investigate that?”
I’d be lost in a heartbeat, was already lost. I glanced at the curtained doorway, thinking that perhaps I should have told him I was waiting for Prudence to safely return. This sensual interrogation was much more disturbing than having to admit my fears. I had to go. His spell over me was too great. I dashed to the door, but stopped to look back at him as I parted the curtain. “Why do you live in darkness this way, all alone?”
His arm went up to shield his face and he moaned, turning from the light. “Because I must,” he said harshly. “Shut the curtain, or leave. Do it now.”
I left. Too afraid to stay. More because of my need of him than his sensual advances or his reaction to the light.
The kitchens, bubbling with fragrant stew and lively chatter, were a welcome relief, making me feel almost normal, and I lingered there, helping cut potatoes and listening to Mrs. Murphy’s stories of when Sean and his brother Alexander were little and the havoc they caused every where they went. It was hard to imagine that they were the same two men. Sunlight apparently hadn’t had ill effects for Sean as a child. The opportunity to ask Mrs. Murphy why it did now never presented itself. Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to ask the question, for it was laughable. Vampires didn’t exist.
That night I dragged a fussing Bridget back to the new bathing room, where after much laboring with carrying water buckets, I luxuriated in a hot bath. Bridget did too, once I convinced her that her skin wouldn’t rot from taking two baths in one day, though I think it was the rose bath salts that actually lured her to take a quick dip. Returning to our room, I helped her read more of Powerful Vampires and Their Lovers until late into the night. The first story ended on the page after the vampire feasted upon the woman’s breasts. She gave herself over to him, forsaking all of life as she knew it, and promised to stay with him forever. He promised her an eternity of pleasure. I kept thinking of Sean and the power he seemed to hold over me, almost against my will.
Bridget closed the book and lay back upon her cot with a blissful sigh. “Oh, how bloody wonderful.”
“Ladies don’t say bloody,” I reminded, though I felt like saying it myself, but for a different reason. How bloody awful. Rising, I marched the three steps across the room to the window, opened it and glared out at the night, anger scraping my nerves. “What makes it so wonderful to you? He’s ruined her.” I kept thinking about Sean and how much of a hold he had on me in so short a time.
“Ack, Cassie, there you go again with your notions and all. How has he ruined her? He wants her to be sure, but that’s the way of passion. The wantin’s what makes it wonderful.” Bridget picked up the red silk scarf she thought to be her sister’s and brushed her cheek.
“She can never go back to her life.” I was angry inside.
“And what sort of life do you think it was?” Bridget asked. “A lonely and a cold one, I tell you.” She scowled, somehow irritated with me now. “She was so unhappy that she was a-praying for someone, just anyone, to love her and he did. You people with all your educating don’t understand something as simple as that. So she’ll have to stay in a stone crypt with him. Beats scrubbing her hands to the bone till she gets ill and can’t scrub anymore. Then who’s goin’ ta feed her, I ask you? You think about that, Cassie. Meanwhile, I’m goin’ ta go to sleep before you ruin the fun of hoping a vampire will take a liking to me and give me a velvet bed of comfort forever.” Lying back, she covered herself with her blanket and faced the wall, the red silk scarf on her pillow next to her cheek.
For a moment, I stood by the window, stunned. There was so much about the lives of the people around me that I didn’t understand. How would I think and feel if I was imprisoned in their worlds, with no hope? Maybe Bridget thought I was condemning her sister for reaching for a better life by going with a man to a city to sing. Walking over to Bridget, I set my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Her shoulder shuddered a bit, and I knew she was crying. “Nuthin’ to be sorry for.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “Good night.”
She didn’t move or face me and I realized that she didn’t want me to see her tears. I slipped back to the window, feeling very out of sorts with myself and with life. The moon hung huge and bright, and a steady wind from the sea kept the sky clear as it chased ghost-like clouds inland. Even in the full moonlight the maze and the dense forest remained inky blots staining the graceful lay of the gardens and the grassy hills. I couldn’t see Seafarer’s Inn where my sisters and aunt were most likely all cuddled in soft beds on scented sheets. I missed them terribly, and felt that if I were just to see them for a few minutes, I’d regain my sensibilities and would be able to dismiss from my mind the feel of Sean’s breath on my neck.
The thundering hooves of approaching riders from the village caught my attention. I quickly snuffed the candle so I could watch unobserved from my window. Two riders on dark horses and wearing capes that billowed out from their gentleman-like bearing raced down the land toward the stables. It had to be midnight, and the men had to be the two men who’d been with Sean Killdaren last night. The two men who were coming back to hunt? I watched them hand the horses off to another man that I determined to be Stuart Frye by the white of his shirt and the faint sound of his voice carrying through the night air.
The men disappeared into the house, and soon the dome of the round room glowed. And just like the last time I’d seen the dome lit, a screeching moan rent through the quiet, keening like a woman grieved or pained. My skin crawled, urging me to do something to end it. How could I have fallen so completely under his sensual spell today? I had melted back against him. I had parted my lips in anticipation of him. And tonight, I wanted to scream What are you
doing? I reached the point that I was about to march down there and demand to know, when the noise abruptly stopped.
Now what? I wanted so badly to sneak downstairs again to eavesdrop that I readied myself to go before my common sense gained an upper hand, and I made myself think about what the consequences could be if I were caught. Taking into consideration the dismal failures of my nighttime excursions thus far, it would be best for me to stay put tonight and give Sean Killdaren a few days to forget me. I’d have to look for the opportunity to peek inside the round room during the daytime, since he slept then. Well, usually. Today was likely an exception. One I seemed to have inadvertently caused.
Besides, the men did have plans to “hunt” tonight. Until I knew exactly what they were hunting, I’d best stay in my room. Before I climbed onto my cot, I locked the window and the door and kept my hands off the vampire book, but still couldn’t relax enough to sleep. Frustration wrung tight knots of tension inside me and my neck tingled, just where Sean had touched it. I’d thought it an easy plan to come here, bide my time, and ask subtle questions about Mary until I discovered the truth. Yet that plan was much harder than I ever imagined it being. I was desperately impatient. Someone I loved had disappeared and I wanted everyone to stand up and take notice.
My gaze settled on the suspect list I’d written, and I snatched it up. Reading over it, I realized I’d gathered a lot of information. I pulled out my journal, which I’d neglected of late, and on a clean page rewrote my suspect list and began logging facts, impressions and events.
With each word, I felt better, as if I’d accomplished a great deal since arriving at Killdaren’s Castle. Then I included my concerns for Rebecca, my dream about Mary, and my questions about Sean Killdaren and his brother, Jamie, Stuart, the earl, and Bridget’s sister Flora’s silk scarf, along with the gruesome facts in the music room.
As I read back through them, several questions stood out in my mind. What “wasn’t an accident” according to Jamie? Why did Sean Killdaren never go into the daylight? Why did Stuart want Prudence and Rebecca to leave Killdaren’s Castle? Why was Flora’s scarf in a piano no one used? Why had Rebecca seemed so familiar with the music room? How had the earl proven to God he’d stopped loving? And more importantly, why had Mary led me to Rebecca’s door in a dream?
The rest of the week I kept to my room at night and away from Sean’s rooms during the day. Bridget and I worked diligently, cleaning sitting rooms and solariums and drawing rooms and bedchambers and rooms that I couldn’t even fathom a reason to have. All for the sake of maintaining what hadn’t been used in years and would most likely go unused for years to come. It was a waste of beauty and time to have so much and no one with whom to share it.
More and more, I came to realize the solitary existence of those who lived in Killdaren’s Castle—a stone fortress, richly appointed and without bars, but no less a prison. There were no family gatherings, no meals together and no celebrations of any kind.
Though my knowledge of the family’s activities was limited to that of a downstairs maid, who rarely heard the gossip of the upper servants since they dined separately from the lower servants, I’d learned the only time Rebecca had left her room this week had been when Bridget and I had brought her to the music room to listen to the piano. I’d wanted to take her every day, but had only managed convince Mrs. Frye to let us go once.
Maybe it was my dream of Mary pleading for me to do something for Rebecca, or maybe it was my own heart that wrapped itself around the lonely child, but I had a need to see her. Today I’d take Rebecca to the music room even if I had to thwart Mrs. Frye’s authority to do it.
Miss Prudence’s situation bothered me, too. What did the woman do, all alone at the castle? She didn’t oversee the castle’s housekeeping. She never went to the village. No one ever came to visit her. She seemed terribly sad.
But the one person who consumed most of my thoughts was Sean. What caused a man to spend his life living as he did? Every night I’d hear the screeching from the domed room and knew he was awake, and every day I knew he slept as others lived.
Whether it was me and my frustration over not learning more about Mary or my presence affecting those about me, but tension seemed to be thickening the air with each passing day, like a fog that kept moving in from the sea, becoming more and more dense with every passing hour.
Bridget didn’t mention the vampire story again, and had claimed to be too tired at night to practice reading. I felt responsible somehow, as if I’d failed her or hurt her in some way, and I was now anxious over how she’d accept my birthday gift to her. Friday had dawned, and I hesitantly set the package on her bed. I’d never given someone a present that wasn’t something new or just made, but I hadn’t had time to shop on Sunday. Yet, giving Bridget things I rarely used but couldn’t seem to part with before made me feel as if I were giving a bit of myself. I woke early and dressed, wanting us to have a few minutes before we had to start the day.
“Bridget.” I shook her shoulder. “Wake up.”
“What is it? Am I late?” She sat up quickly, brushing her burnished hair from her eyes.
“No, but you are eighteen. Happy Birthday.” I pushed the brown papered package toward her. “I didn’t have fancy wrapping, so you’ll have to pretend that there are lots of ribbons and bows on it.”
She blinked several times then looked at me puzzled. “Blimey, yer giving me a present for my birthday?”
“Yes, silly. Today is your birthday, right?”
“Yes, but…” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve never had a birthday present before. Only at Christmas, we’d have puddin’ and a present. I…I don’ know what to say to ya.”
I drew a breath and swallowed. “Everyone deserves one birthday present in their life I should think. It’s not much and they are not new, but they are favorites of mine that I wanted you to have.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been out of sorts. Ye’ve just given me so many things to think different about that sometimes, I don’t know what to think.”
I laughed. “You know what? You’ve made me feel the same way.”
“I have. Really?”
I nodded and she laughed. “We’re good for each other then.”
Smiling, Bridget reached for the package and reverently unwrapped it as if the paper were precious gold. When she found the silver brush and comb inside on top of a soft blue shawl, she burst into tears.
“Good lord. It’s not supposed to make you cry.”
“Can’t bloody help it. I’ve never owned anything so beautiful. And don’t you dare tell me ladies don’t say bloody. There are certain times when no other word will do.”
I smiled. “We’ll discuss that later. Hurry and try on the shawl before we have to get ready to go downstairs.”
She slid the shawl over her chemise and ran to the tiny mirror on the washstand, preening until she saw every inch of the shawl that she could. The blue of it matched the soft brightness of her eyes as I’d known it would, but I hadn’t realized that it would make her red hair come even more alive with fire. She really did look beautiful in it, and really rather mature, like a woman blossoming to life from a girl, ready to give life herself. No wonder the livery boy had chased her for a kiss.
“I feel grown up now,” she said, using the silver brush.
“And you look wonderful.”
“I’m going to wear it down to breakfast. I don’t care how unseemly Mrs. Frye will think it is.”
I laughed, wishing I had brought another shawl for me to wear as well. Mrs. Frye needed something to shake her from her rigid routine.
At breakfast everyone was thrilled with Bridget’s new shawl, except Stuart. He glared angrily at Bridget and demanded to know where she’d gotten the shawl.
Bridget lifted her chin to a stubborn angle. “Not that it is any of your business, but it’s a birthday present from a very good friend.” She turned her back on him.
“Don’t wear it.” He grabbed a biscuit
out of the bread basket and stomped out the door, declining to eat the meal.
I saw Bridget blink back tears. Incensed, I marched out after Stuart, who was headed toward the stables. “You had no right to ruin her present,” I shouted at his back.
He turned, glaring at me. “Did you give it to her?”
“Yes, what of it? Don’t you think she deserves something pretty?”
He came back at me, anger flaring his nostrils and turning his face red. “I don’t know what your game is, but Mary had a shawl that exact color. Would you know that?”
I blinked, shock draining the blood from my face as I scrambled to remember where the shawl had come from. I’d had it so long, I couldn’t remember, but it was possible that Aunt Lavinia had made it for me, and she could have made Mary one as well. Mouth dry, I forced my voice to work. “Why would I know that? How many blue shawls do you think exist in England?”
He didn’t say anything, but whipped around and went on to the stables, casting a dark shadow over the pink glow of the dawn.
The other servants were jovially teasing Bridget that Stuart must be jealous. She laughed at their remarks, but I could still see the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly, I saw something that had to have been in front of my face all along. Bridget harbored very strong feelings for Stuart.
I finished the drawing room in record time, but rather than going to the library to see if Bridget needed help, I located Mrs. Frye in the kitchens with Mrs. Murphy. They appeared to be working on the household accounts. “Ma’am, I’m finished early. I would like to take Rebecca to the music room for a short while, if I may?”
“We haven’t time for nonsense today.”
I stared at her a moment as I bit back hot emotion. Why was she so angry all the time? How she could be so hard?
“Now, Clara,” Mrs. Murphy interjected, “it’s not the wee one’s fault that things are they way they are, and a little music will do the lass well. Lord knows she needs a few joys in her dark world.”
Midnight Secrets Page 12
