Adduné - the Vampire's Game (41 page)

It was a complete surprise to her. She had never expected him to be so attuned, but at least the discovery was a pleasant one. She toyed with the idea of whether there could ever be more, and then stopped her thoughts in mid-stream. It didn’t matter. Right now, the only thing that mattered was this night …. and the music … and being happy within this moment of time. It was more than enough.

Jake took Miranda’s hand and lifted it over her head. She pirouetted under his expert direction and guidance. She burst into an unceasing ripple of laughter that rang out like Christmas bells. The sound mingled with the music like a ribbon through a wreath. Her body and mind felt as light as air; she was entirely prepared to dance the night away. She hoped that Strauss had written enough music for that to happen.

Jake enjoyed Miranda’s childlike reaction to the turn. She was beaming and delightfully spontaneous and unpredictable. Her feminine side had finally come out under the spell of the music and the night. He was caught up in the enchantment of the outdoor venue and hearing the music the way it was meant to be heard – in a natural acoustic setting. Music heard when traveling through open air was the best way to enjoy it – and everyone seemed to agree with that sentiment.

Miranda’s mouth was wide open in wonder – her eyes lit from within. The outdoor decorations bounced refracted glints off her skin and hair. She looked like a fairy princess sprinkled with a diamond coating. He couldn’t leave her wanting more and decided that one spin using a finger turn was not enough. He lifted her hand up over her head and pivoted her skillfully under it like a master puppeteer does to his favorite marionette. With his other hand, he gently pushed on her ribs – to steady her and keep her solidly centered. Miranda got the idea and knew what he wanted her to do. She started twirling – going around and around. She was getting dizzy and light-headed. Her laughter increased as did her blurry vision. She had just come out of a final spin when Jake released her hand. She stepped awkwardly to the side doubled-over with giggles and trying to slow down the world that was rushing by.

Jake felt a tap on his shoulder – someone wanted to cut in. He stepped aside, backing up and allowing the guest to take Miranda’s hand. He turned and saw it was the strange man with the long blonde hair. Jake had seen him earlier and wondered who the hell he was. He definitely hadn’t attended any of the museum’s previous functions. Jake felt sure he would have remembered such an odd character. He had meant to ask Rachel his name and why he’d been put on the guest list, but had forgotten when the hubbub with Perrone had broken out. Talking about coffins and murders will often do that to you.

Miranda’s head was leaning down – staring at the ground. She had her back to them and didn’t see what occurred. She got up and spun around – finding herself in the unfortunate position of staring into the face of
Just Peter
. The expression on her face was hardly one of delight. It was in diametric opposition to registering pleasure. Jake didn’t like her obvious discomfort with the situation. He felt he’d made a mistake in relinquishing his hold on her. Before he could approach and ask what was going on, the man swept her up in his arms and whisked her away. Jake watched them blend in with the other couples wondering if he’d done the right thing.

Miranda looked over her shoulder trying to find Jake’s face in the crowd. She’d been shocked to see it was Peter that had hold of her. She didn’t want his hands on her. She wanted Jake to rescue her. She didn’t want a scene, but it seemed that it was going to come to that.

She stopped trying to find Jake. She’d have to solve this on her own. The good mood of a second ago was gone, but so was the timid Miranda that allowed herself to be insulted. She faced her provocateur glaring up her resentment and anger at his audacity. His face showed nothing of what he’d done. He was so impudent – so rude. Miranda hated insolent men. She struggled to get away, but he had her firmly in his clutches. He was surprisingly strong. She decided not to make a scene – just yet. There were hedged in by the crowd. If she broke free, she’d have to wade through and interrupt the flow of couples. She waited until they completed the half circle before she shoved him away – finally breaking free. She headed for the balcony picking up her long skirt so she could move more freely. She made it to the stone balustrade and sat down. She had enough of that bastard for one evening. Why he thought she would welcome a tour of the dance floor with him, she didn’t know. Was he so used to stepping on women and still getting what he wanted from them? Well, he’d find out she wasn’t like that. She had her own resources – and her pride. She was angry that she had allowed him to ruin her evening – twice.

She sat feeling the cool night air. She closed her eyes letting it subdue her fevered emotions. She needed to calm down as she felt like bonking him over the head with a heavy object. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get away with it – not with the police here.

She heard a rustling – someone was walking in the grass. She opened her eyes and saw him coming towards her. If he wanted a fight, he’d have one. She was ready. Miranda stood ready to confront him.

“
You! You have one hell of a nerve, whoever you are!”

“
Me? Whatever is it that you think I’ve done, Miranda?”

“
Don’t you dare call me Miranda as if we’re friends. And you know damn well what you did, you bastard! You insulted me!”

“
I?” Peter said placing his hand over his heart as if personally devastated by the comment. “I did nothing of the sort.”

“
You said I wasn’t beautiful because of the color of my eyes! It was such a worthless, cowardly thing to say – and to do!”

“
You must be shallow indeed. I didn’t take you for such a superficial girl. It was merely a comment and has nothing to do with how I feel about you. Do you only date the most handsome men? Or do you make your selections based on what is inside?”

Miranda brushed her hair back with her fingers. She felt her scalp heavy with perspiration from the physical exertion. She wished she were still on the dance floor with Jake and not engaged in this heated debate. He was rude. Why couldn’t he just apologize or leave? Instead he was putting her on the defensive as if it were her fault.

“
Of course I care about what is inside, but then this isn’t about me! It’s about you and your lack of manners! I think you’re spoiled! I think that you’re used to women flinging themselves at you for whatever reason,” she snapped derisively. “I can’t think what they see in such a petty, gutless wonder as you.”

She folded her arms over her chest and waited. She’d gotten her frustration out. She waited to see what was inside of this man and how he’d respond. If it was with more insults, she’d leave and go back to the delicious arms of Jake. Strauss was calling. She realized there was just one more thing she needed to say.

“
Not beautiful? Might I remind you that it is you that is running after me!”

Peter rubbed his lips with his forefinger. He was entirely too pleased with himself and the conversation. Miranda wondered if this explosion was what he wanted. Well, she’d be damned if she stood around playing mind games with a clown. She tried to walk past him. He caught her by the elbow.

“
Please, may I explain,” he pleaded tenderly.

His mood seemed to change, but this man was a gamester. He was used to putting on acts. She couldn’t be sure he was being sincere. She’d have to wait and hear what was said since she still wanted that apology.

“
Take your hands off of me!” she demanded pulling her arm from him.

He opened his palm and held both hands up in a gesture showing he meant her no harm and would do as she demanded. She rubbed the spot where he’d touched her as if it were bruised or hurting.

“
Make it quick then,” she retorted.

Miranda was not sure she wanted to hear this. She remembered the insults about her father. She hadn’t even begun to touch on those. And the collection. Hadn’t he said it was his and implied he’d picked it out?

“
I was annoyed at your father. I knew who you were and sought you out to deliberately hurt you.”

“
I was wondering when you were going to get to the subject of my father.”

“
I hate your father for what he did.”

“
And what was that?”

“
He stole my possessions.” He waved his arm towards the exhibit inside, “Everything in there is mine … or was.”

“
That’s absurd! If it’s yours why didn’t you just claim it! There are legal procedures you can go through. You must know that! Even after this little charade, if you were to show me proof of your ownership, I’d give everything rightfully yours back to you. My father would have also. We are not thieves and the fact you express hatred towards my father means you’re a little unhinged. He’s dead or haven’t you heard? And yet you continue to seethe over an untrue allegation?”

“
It’s you that’s in error.”

“
As I said, if it’s yours, you just need claim it.”

“
I already have. It’s home with me now.”

“
What? What new nonsense is this? It’s gibberish and you are insane! Completely and outrageously insane!

Miranda could feel her adrenalin pumping inside of her. She hadn’t lost her temper this badly in years. And who better to unleash it on than a man that was a sniveling coward and a liar. Her father wasn’t here to defend himself, but Miranda would make sure his memory was protected.

“
No, not insane, Miranda. Only tired,” Peter said, his eyes burning like twin fires. There was an eerie glow that seemed to be held within them, an inner blaze that Miranda didn’t think came from the moon’s reflection.

The man’s mood changed again. His posture had softened as had his tone. He really did seem fatigued – profoundly so.

“
I wish I could explain, but now isn’t the right time. However, I do apologize for my remark. You are exceedingly beautiful. I’m surprised you put so little value on what others would consider a prize.”

Miranda considered the man and his apology. She felt somewhat assuaged by it, but not quite. He still had called her father a thief, but then so had Reginald. Not in those words, but that was the implication.

She studied his face in the moonlight. His appearance was what was making her decision so difficult. She would have long since dismissed anyone else. Stormed off and rejoined the crowd, but Peter? She was attracted to him – plain and simple. There was a sexual longing within her that went past what she’d known before. She didn’t understand the pull she had towards him, but if she had to describe it, she’d say it was a hunger. A deep ravenous hunger, a thirst that seemed to increase the more she saw of him – the more she was near him.

Something within urged her to fight him – and her unnatural sexual desire. She understood why he was so cocky. How many other girls had fallen victim to his undeniable charm? Had needed their hunger quenched by this irresistible cad? Well, she wouldn’t be one of them since she didn’t even know which Peter was the real one. Was he the cruel, callous, sharp-tongued devil or the eager apologist? Then there was the helpless victim who professed to want justice, but did nothing to obtain it.

Oh, why was she even spending time giving this situation credence by deliberating about it? She didn’t need to go that far since she didn’t even know this idiot’s last name. No, there was an uneasy ambiguity about this mystery man – an elusiveness that he hid behind. She would be aiding and abetting this rogue by making up excuses and tacking on reasons for his boisterous and unmitigated attacks. She would not be filling in any blanks of the ridiculous story told by
Just Peter
. And if he thought he could spew nonsense with holes in it the size of Lake Louise, he could just forget it. The only thing that Miranda had ever been concerned with hearing was the truth – and it remained the same tonight. Even in the midst of the confection and effervescence of such a sublime evening, she would not mix business with pleasure. Especially pleasure at the expense of reason.

It had taken her awhile, but she’d reached her decision – she’d leave things on a positive note. He’d been contrite and apologized. Even if it wasn’t entirely heartfelt, she’d take it and run.

“
If you’ll excuse me.”

“
If you wish …”

His voice was one of resignation. He gave a slight bow of his head and regretful frown, but offered no resistance to the idea. Miranda respected that he hadn’t put up a fight, but there was that unspoken yearning that wished he would have pulled her aside and whisked her away to a romantic chateau to claim her heart. She was wise enough to separate delusion from reality, and didn’t break her stride across the green, manicured lawn.