The curse of Kalaan

by Unknown

  “If you please, do you think I could possibly have a cognac?”

  Amélie and Isabelle, both surprised, looked at her in astonishment, but then, the younger of the two friends, smiled and asked her mother for one too.

  “We should celebrate Kalaan’s return after all, shouldn’t we?” Isabelle, said, in good spirits. After Amélie gave her permission, Clovis prepared the drinks.

  Oh, no, don’t talk to me about Kalaan! thought Virginie, before she thanked Clovis and had a long drink of the alcohol.

  “My, but you were thirsty!” Isabelle winked and said gently teasing her friend.

  “Um...yes, I suppose so…” Virginie nervously cleared her throat.

  “Could it be our dear Catherine who has put you such a state of anxiety? Was she rude with you?” Amélie was worried for her young guest.

  “Not in the least!” Virginie exclaimed before continuing in a calmer voice. “Quite the opposite, in fact. She was very charming. She told me about the legend of the broken circle and we also spoke about her father, Diogenes.”

  Isabelle nearly spit out the cognac she had in her mouth and Clovis dropped the silver tray noisily on the floor. The butler looked at Virginie as if she had just uttered the worst possible insult and Amélie brought her hand to her throat and stared wide-eyed at her.

  “What did I say?” Virginie sat up in her wing chair and put her snifter down on the small table.

  “Please forgive me, Madame.” Clovis’ voice was almost a whisper as he picked up the tray. Isabelle simply sipped her cognac, with a mysteriously impish attitude.

  “That’s quite alright, you may go now,” Amélie said to the butler, reassuringly.

  “Thank you Madame.”

  “Oh,” Amélie added, “And please inform the staff that they can move back into the castle tomorrow. The repairs to the roof have been completed.”

  “That is very good news, Madame. Good evening Madame.”

  A moment later, the butler was gone, but not before giving Virginie one last strange look.

  “Diogenes, then?” Isabelle asked, no longer capable of holding back her laughter.

  “Yes, Catherine’s father.” Virginie repeated, with a puzzled frown.

  “Pay no attention to my daughter,” Amélie said, giving Isabelle a dark threatening look. “Di…Diogenes is a unique man,” she added, stammering a little as if she found it difficult to talk.

  “Yes, we could say that.” Isabelle was enjoying herself far too much to heed her mother’s silent warnings. “He certainly had a unique nose... for business.”

  “Isabelle?”

  “Yes mother?”

  “To your room, at once!”

  “With pleasure.”

  Isabelle kissed Amélie on the cheek and warmly wished her friend a good night before running out of the room. Moments later they could hear giggles echoing in the entrance hall, giggles that tickled Virginie’s ears.

  “There are days when the three years that separate us seem to be so many more!” Virginie said shaking her head, and looking into the flames of the fire.

  “I understand. Isabelle is still a young girl in many ways. However, you too are young, Virginie. And I can sense that you are truly worried about something, and have been for several months now. I feel you are slowly losing your zest for life, when you had so much before.”

  Virginie bit her lips to hold back the sadness that suddenly overcame her.

  “I miss my father terribly, Madame.”

  “Of course, losing a loved one is unbearable for those who remain behind. I won’t tell you the usual balderdash such as ‘time heals all wounds.’ But you must know that we learn to survive without them at our sides, by remembering the happiest moments we shared with them. Happy memories are essential, my child.”

  Virginie nodded, discreetly brushing away a tear. If only she could confide in Amélie and talk about her torment; but then that could be dangerous. She had to take the time to think things through. Virginie managed to control her anxiety by remembering that she was here on the isle, surrounded by friends. Neither she, nor anyone else should be in danger.

  “Kalaan must have been detained by Jaouen, our old druid,” Amélie said, breaking the silence. “He told me he would be going to his cottage with Salam, but I’d forgotten.”

  The young marchioness smiled compassionately. The countess wanted to find excuses for her inconsiderate son. The woman was a remarkable mother with a very soft heart.

  “These things happen, Madame.”

  “Well, I think I will retire to my room. Will you come upstairs as well?”

  “Um…if you don’t mind, I would like to remain here for a few more minutes.”

  “But of course, my child. I bid you a good night.”

  “And to you, as well, Madame.”

  And so, the young woman found herself alone, once more, with her thoughts. However, this time, it did not disturb her. She had for sole company a glass of cognac, from which she took another sip.

  Virginie sensed a presence at her side and suddenly opened her eyes. She was just emerging from the haze of a cognac-induced sleep. The three glasses she’d downed earlier had done more than simply relax her.

  Still lying on the banquette, where she had moved to be more comfortable, her instinct warned her immediately and her instinct was never wrong. When her eyelids lifted, between her and the fireplace she saw a tall masculine silhouette leaning over her.

  Screaming in terror, Virginie rolled onto the floor and grabbed the only object near her for defense.

  “Are you serious, do you really think you can fight me with a glass?” taunted a sensual baritone voice. “Mademoiselle de Macy,” the man said. “You should know that it is a losing battle.”

  Virginie was still on the floor, heart pounding, arm raised and glass in hand. No! It couldn’t be! This was not how she dreamed she would see Kalaan again. And yet it was. The man looking her up and down with the laughing amber-green eyes was indeed the count. As her mind cleared she remembered his words and immediately realized that he knew who she was and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Oh... you recognized me,” she gasped, certain she looked ridiculously blissful.

  “Of course I did; you’ve hardly changed.” Kalaan’s full lips were turned in a slight smile showing off his strong masculine chin.

  Virginie frowned in response. What a lout! The man had not changed in the least! For a moment there, she believed him, believed that he thought she hadn’t changed. What a monster! The last time they met, she weighed sixty pounds more than today.

  Kalaan quickly realized his blunder. How could he not? The beautiful sylph had turned into a dragon before his eyes. In his eyes she was even lovelier than when he left her outside the castle entrance that afternoon. But to her, the last time they met was many years ago.

  “You… you...” The rage and frustration could be heard in Virginie’s voice.

  “I saw you in the distance earlier today,” Kalaan said raising his hands as if to calm a wild animal. “Lil’ Louis was kind enough to tell me who you were. Here, let me. You might hurt yourself.”

  Kalaan gently took the cognac snifter from her hands. His warm gloved fingers lingered as they touched hers.

  “Oh…” Virginie sighed, both mollified by the count’s words and yet disturbed by his touch.

  A shiver ran down her spine and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was exactly the same feeling she had when Catherine held her hand. Lord, but Virginie thought she was losing her mind! How could she compare her reaction to Kalaan with what she felt in the company of that wildcat?

  “You must have had a lot to drink.” The count shook the bottle of amber liquid, an amused expression on his face and went to the cellaret[56], took a glass and served himself.

  “Only a little,” Virginie lied brazenly. She stood and took advantage of the count’s turned back to put some order into her appearance.

  When he turned around to face her again, her h
air was smoothed and she was sitting as properly as is expected of a young woman of good upbringing. However the dark green cotton of her gown was terribly wrinkled and the kerchief meant to hide her plunging neckline had come undone.

  This of course attracted Kalaan’s attention and his wandering eyes lingered on her corsage causing Virginie to blush. She lowered her head following the direction of his eyes, let out a small cry and quickly readjusted her kerchief.

  Kalaan gulped down his drink and sat in one of the wing chairs leaving Virginie to choose between the other chair and the banquette. Preferring to put as much distance as possible between them, Virginie took the chair. The distance could not protect her from the overwhelming emotions she felt on seeing Kalaan. The boy she knew years ago was now older and stronger. He was also more handsome than she remembered. The fabric of his trousers was stretched tautly over his sensually muscular thighs and his broad shoulders filled out his jacket beautifully. The count was highly attractive and athletic looking. His chestnut hair falling wildly around his face was flecked with gold highlights, from the hot Egyptian sun.

  Kalaan was looking at the fire, but feeling Virginie’s eyes on him, turned his head. She blushed and looked away, towards the boat shaped clock. It was one o’clock in the morning. It was either very late… or very early.

  “I would like to present my sincere condolences for the loss of your father.”

  The count’s remark took Virginie by surprise, and she felt her blood to turn to ice.

  “Thank you.”

  “He was a precious friend to me. Do you mind my asking what happened?”

  He was murdered! Virginie wanted to scream, but she didn’t. She kept her self-control, swallowed a few times and gripped the arms of her chair.

  “The doctor said his heart gave out.”

  Kalaan, noticing the young woman’s tensed hands, realized something was amiss and furrowed his brow. Much to his surprise, he could feel her pain, but he had to continue his questioning.

  “But he seemed in excellent health.”

  “He was,” she replied coldly. When she turned her pretty face towards him her features were marked by her chagrin, still deep.

  Kalaan understood her well. He had mourned his father for so long, his grief made worse by the fact that he held himself responsible for his death. But why hadn’t Virginie started healing?

  “You...”

  “Could we speak about something else?” she interrupted. Then looking at his gloved hands, Virginie asked:

  “Did you injure yourself, in addition to your problems with your eyes?”

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, dumbfounded before breaking into laughter.

  This was one of the aspects he found so attractive with the young marchioness. Behind her charming mask was a wildcat showing her claws to hide her own wounds. He wouldn’t have been more amused had she asked if had bladder problems.

  “It’s nothing, really.” Kalaan spoke reassuringly and crossed his legs swinging a booted foot in a movement of complete relaxation. “The desert sun is extremely harsh on sensitive skins such as ours.”

  Yes, he was indeed comfortable in the young woman’s company. He had never felt as well as at that moment and he did not want the magic to end. Only an hour earlier, after what happened with the druid, he had felt lost and broken. But now, thanks to Virginie, that feeling was gone. He was much happier in her presence as a man, than as the thing. Speaking of which…

  “I believe you’ve met my cousin Catherine?”

  “Yes, I have. She’s a charming young woman.”

  Kalaan almost choked and uncrossing his legs he leaned forward towards Virginie, his elbows on his knees.

  “Charming? Catherine?”

  “Yes, that is what I just said.” Virginie blushed slightly, a detail Kalaan did not miss. “She is very cultured and told me a very nice legend. It is sad that she grew up surrounded by big oafs… uh… sorry, I meant to say…”

  Kalaan broke into a warm, enthralling laugh and Virginie felt herself melting.

  “No need to apologize. You are most likely correct.”

  He was quiet for moment, hypnotized by the color of the young woman’s eyes. The flames gave an almost supernatural brilliance to their gray-blue color. There was something happening between them. Kalaan had already felt this when they were in the broken circle, hand in hand at the edge of the cliff. At that moment he felt they were united as one and were invulnerable. Whenever they were together, Kalaan felt that nothing bad could happen.

  Worried about where his ruminations could lead him, his face darkened and he tried to shake off his strange thoughts. Virginie was of absolutely no help, biting her raspberry pink heart shaped lips that way.

  Kalaan sat up, unconsciously, most likely with the intention of tasting the voluptuous fruit presented to him. But Virginie was faster and quickly took shelter by sitting as far back as possible in her chair as if the table between them wasn’t enough of an obstacle. She needed more distance between them. Heavens! Did he want to kiss me? She wondered, her heart pounding in her chest again.

  “I... I.. ‘tis very late and... I...” stammering, again, Virginie put her hand in front of her mouth as if to hide a yawn. “I wish you a good night.”

  She quickly retreated, but when she arrived at the door, she turned around before opening it, only to find herself with her nose in the count’s ruffle shirt, his entrancing musky fragrance penetrating her nostrils. He was standing far too close!

  “Sweet dreams,” he murmured leaning towards her, his sweet breath caressing her cheek as he spoke, his eyes never leaving her lips.

  “Yes, of course!” she replied as she moved quickly towards the hall and ran up the stairs to her room, locking the door behind her.

  Did I really say ‘Yes, of course?’ she asked herself hitting her forehead with the palm of her hand. What a halfwit I am! He was going to kiss her, Virginie was sure of it! She had dreamed of this for so many years, and when the moment finally came she left him high and dry, running away like a frightened little mouse.

  Without Gwendoline to help her, it took Virginie an eternity to undo her gown and, even longer, the corset, tied at the back. She then washed her face, brushed and braided her hair, and went to bed hoping that sleep would quickly take her in its arms. But it was not to be…

  She tossed and turned under the bedcovers, sometimes even lying across the bed. She could not seem to find a comfortable position. Too much fatigue and too many emotions kept sleep at bay.

  As dawn began to arrive, it timidly lit Virginie’s room slowly, and gently. She grumpily pulled herself out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and walked over to stand at the window.

  A tall shape, moving quickly in the park, caught her attention. Curious, yet not wishing to be seen, she hid behind the curtains to spy on the person, now approaching the castle walls.

  It was Catherine, wearing the same men’s clothes as the day before, and her jet-black hair flowing down her back. But where could she be coming from so early in the morning? She raised her eyes towards the window of the room next door as if judging its height. The next minute the wildcat was climbing the wall with impressive agility, making good use of the cracks between the stones.

  Virginie, whose nose was right against the window, lost sight of her so she quietly opened her window leaning out just in time to see Catherine pull herself into the next room, her booted legs disappearing in a wink of an eye.

  She hadn’t spent the night in the castle! The young cousin was truly a mystery. Who had she been with? Virginie realized that the whole scene greatly annoyed her. In fact, she was feeling something very similar to jealousy. But why? After all, Catherine had the right to do as she pleased, with whom she pleased!

  This was one more event to add to the long list of all the others now preoccupying the young woman and poisoning her existence.

  Chapter 13

  A pleasant outing

  How can you possibly feel alone in
a castle with the hustle and bustle of the personnel moving back into their quarters? Well, one way would be to have a late breakfast after a restless night.

  This is what happened with Virginie by her own fault, she had to admit. She didn’t think she would be able to get to sleep after seeing Catherine climb back into her room; but she did, and it was a very deep sleep.

  Just as she was getting ready to leave the table, Clovis, the ever-devoted butler, pulled out her chair for her.

  “Thank you, Clovis.”

  “At your service, Mademoiselle,” he replied, bowing his head respectfully. Virginie smiled at him.

  Before leaving the dining room she went over to the tall windows and gazed out at the clear blue sky above the beautiful countryside. It was a perfect day for an invigorating winter walk.

  Holding her breath, she asked, as she did every morning, if there were any letters for her; Clovis replied, as he had every morning for the past few weeks, if not since Virginie’s arrival on the isle, that no, there was nothing for her in the post. His reply left her quite distraught and she felt she really had to get some fresh air. On her way out a footman helped her with her coat and gloves, but kept her beribboned bonnet, which she decided not to wear. Once outside, she briskly walked towards the park.

  When Virginie reached the edge of the park, where the walled paths began, she heard the pounding of hooves and the crunch of gravel behind her. Turning around, what she saw gave her a fright. She was standing face to face with a... monster and a dashing high-spirited Catherine, on its back.

  Virginie’s first thought was that Catherine was laughing at her fear, an attitude to be expected of a lawless wildcat. And what in heaven’s name was she riding? The young woman had seen horses before, but this thing with flaring nostrils snorting and blowing hot air into her face, was nothing like them. This beast was positively deviant!