Beloved Vampire (16 page)

“Lord Mason spends a great deal of money, anonymously of course, on educational programs for women in Africa and the Middle East. That, as well as fate and circumstance, has brought women in his path who need assistance to improve their circumstances.

Some have stayed here for a time, to get back on their feet, much as you will do, before he helped them find their place in the world again.”

At Jess’s dubious look, Amara shrugged. “I know you think I’m telling you this to get you to trust him. If he was in my mind now, he’d likely forbid me to tell you any more. But I will still show it to you. While only time will convince you of Lord Mason’s trustworthiness, perhaps it will help. For now, come with me.”

When the servant led her down into the gardens without further conversation, thankfully, Jessica saw the landscapers hard at work, laying the new plantings. Amara explained this was more evidence they were in the final stage of the renovation, for of course the landscaping had been saved until after the main reconstruction, which required material laydown areas and troops of construction workers coming and going over the ground.

As Amara moved on to the statuary garden, Jessica noticed more than one landscaper shot a lingering glance at the two women, the pendulum swing of Amara’s hips, but the foreman quickly barked them back to their responsibilities.

While she tried not to be caught ogling the statuary in the gardens, part of the reason Jess had loved Rome was for the sculpture.

She lost the battle to maintain studied indifference when she reached a fountain topped by an impressive piece depicting three horses. One plunged forward, two others galloping alongside. The curve of head, the dainty nose that somehow meshed with the powerful body, told her the breed. “Arabians.”

“Yes. Lord Mason has a great fondness for them. His two, Hasna and Coman, were brought back to the estate this past week. He boarded them inland until most of the hammering and sawing were done.”

Jess turned. “He has horses? How is that possible? They’re afraid of vampires.” The lingering scent of taken blood, the nature of vampires as predators, made most noncarnivorous animals fear them. Of course, she recalled Farida’s words.
As if they were one
creation
. . .

“They are not afraid of Lord Mason.” Amara watched her with those shrewd eyes. “Would you like to see the stable?”

Jess bit back her eagerness to say yes, and settled for a shrug, which she was sure didn’t fool the servant a bit. Amara took her hand with a conspiratorial smile and led her swiftly across the lawn, cutting around the eastern side of the estate. The walk took them past a large gazebo with swings and a boardwalk out to the beach, as well as a man-made pond with another fountain in the center. There was a breathtaking variety of flower gardens, scattered with benches for contemplation. Myriad winding paths.

Everywhere she turned, beauty to delight the eye, stir the senses.

The female eye, the female senses.

Brow furrowing, she stopped, freeing her hand, looking at it all again, thinking of the interior as well. “Did . . . Has Lord Mason always lived here alone, except for servants and staff ?”

Amara met Jessica’s gaze in understanding. “No. He built it for her. He wanted to give her a home worthy of a sheikh’s daughter, and he did, even though she was already gone before the first brick was laid.”

Jess had schooled herself to catch nuances in speech, slight shifts of body language, a necessary skill to survive. However, it had other uses. “You don’t approve.”

Amara’s reaction intrigued her, because unless the woman was a superb actress, Jessica had caught her in a genuine uneasy moment.

“It is not my place to judge Lord Mason’s actions. He is far older than I am, and sees things very differently. If—”

“But you think this is a waste, him spending all this money and time on a corpse.”

“On a memory,” Amara corrected, her mouth thinning. “I think three hundred years is a long time to grieve. To go without love.”

Jess thought of the tomb. The gifts, the way he’d preserved her. Did he think one day she’d come back, and he would have it ready for her? No, that wasn’t it. It was more like he was proving what he would have provided to her, that the promises he’d made had been honored, even if she was gone.

Or Jessica’s damn mind was playing tricks on her again, trying to turn him back into the romantic hero she’d wanted him to be, not a bloodthirsty vampire.

Amara continued their trek to the stables. Around the building and paddock, Jess saw at least two groomsmen restocking the barn with hay. Her steps quickened at the sound of a snort, despite the fact she knew Amara would give her Master every scrap of information about Jess’s reactions, her interests.

Why do I need that
, habiba,
when I’m already in your mind?

She almost started. Instead, she muttered a vile curse.
Don’t you have other things to do?

I am doing them. But seeing my home through your eyes is a pleasant diversion. Enjoy my horses.

Then he was gone again, but as he withdrew, it was as if he’d caressed her mind, an absent touch similar to him passing a hand over her hair or sliding his fingers down her arm before he moved away, only this was
inside
of her. It made gooseflesh ripple on her skin.

“What is he?” She brought Amara to a halt again with a hand on her arm. “I know he’s a vampire, but what else? He’s a magic user of some kind, isn’t he? The preservation of the tomb—”

“That is for Lord Mason to tell you, not me. Look.” Amara pointed. While normally she wouldn’t have been dissuaded by the distraction, when Jess looked, she saw a snow-white head peer over a stall door. When the female Arabian saw them, she trilled, and abruptly a jet-black head was next to hers, the taller male looking out with her. Bright, intelligent eyes, soft noses, manes combed to silk. Jess’s feet were in motion before she even thought about it.

Vampires liked keeping pets. Dogs, mainly. Predators with a pack mentality meshed well with vampires’ dominant personalities.

The Rottweilers had been castoffs from one of the vampires who bred the dogs. While he’d given that pair to Raithe because of some slight imperfection they had, he prized and babied the ones without imperfections. The line between brutality and pampering was very thin in the vampire world.

However, the Bedouins of the past had treated their horses as members of the family, and she saw that care here. When she put out her hand, the female touched first, bringing her muzzle to Jess’s palm. “Oh, you’re lovely, you are,” she crooned, sliding her hand up the mare’s forehead. “And someone gives you love regularly, look at you, you spoiled thing.” The black pushed her arm insistently, so she gave a hand to each, stroking, rubbing, reaching up to the ears where she knew they liked it, the curves of their powerful necks, as their soft rubbery lips explored her shoulders and hair.

“Did you have a horse of your own?” Amara had taken a seat on one of the hay bales. The grooms kept a respectful distance, like the other staff members, for which Jessica was glad, but she wondered if they’d all been warned to give her space.

“Growing up,” she relented. “Before I went off to school, my family ran a horse farm. We raised quarter horses, but the neighbors had Arabians, so I was familiar with both.”

It was a taste of home, here so far from it, and not just geographically. She’d never see that home again. Even if she could safely visit again, she wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t look like some transparent, ghostlike reality. She was dead to that life now, or all who were part of it were dead to her. No. She was the ghost, not them. Jess put her forehead down on the nose of the white. A brief touch only, because Amara was watching her.

While Jess knew Mason didn’t need Amara’s eyes to see her, Jess took her hands away anyhow, reluctantly. “We can go on now.”

015

Jessica learned that the estate was two hours from any town, so she could save herself the trouble of trying to escape on foot.

While there were vehicles for the laborers to come and go, the roads through the forest were unmarked and twisting. Though it was her habit to note such things, she reminded herself again it was a moot point. A fully third-marked servant had no escape. Even if she had the fortune she’d had with Raithe, killing Mason would only kill them both.

Perhaps Mason had read her acknowledgment of that, for Amara surprised her at the end of the tour by indicating she had a few tasks to handle. “There are many more rooms I haven’t shown you, but you’re welcome to explore on your own or we can continue our tour later.” Apparently reading her expression, Amara added, “Lord Mason wants you to consider this your home, until you are able to choose another. We’ll be close, but you should be able to relax in your home, have some measure of freedom.”

Jessica relished the idea of an hour or two on her own to get her thoughts in order, look at her surroundings without being so obviously under a microscope. That way, if Mason was studying her like a bug, at least she didn’t have to acknowledge it.

“We’ll cut through here to get to the kitchens, and give you another snack now. We typically take our meals at regular hours, out of courtesy to the kitchen staff, but for today, I think they won’t mind making an exception.”

Amara directed her through an arched portico that led to a breezeway. Jessica could see a segment of the ocean around this corner of the estate, feel the breeze through the pillars. As she walked, she trod on flat gray stones. Embedded in the interlocking design was an occasional golden tile. Words in Arabic script were on those tiles, made by different hands, if the shapes and sizes of the handwriting were any indication. The dates varied, from the past five years to more than two hundred and fifty years ago.

“These are names,” Amara said. “Women’s names.”

Though Amara said nothing further, Jessica knew this was the harem she’d intended to “show” her. The walkway was paved with approximately forty marked tiles.

“None of them chose to stay with him, be his third-marked servant?”

“Some would have, if he’d only asked.”

Jess looked toward Amara. The woman’s eyes were reflective, a bit sad. “Most vampires prefer their servants willing, Jess, but the vampire must acquiesce as well. Lord Mason does not desire that singular bond with another woman. I was marked because I was already Enrique’s, so to speak.”

“So he never marked any of these?” Jess couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. Amara shook her head.

“A few who were in more precarious circumstances when he helped them were second-marked, so he could locate them, hear their thoughts if they were in distress. But that is all. You are the first, since me, he has marked three times.”

“He said he did it to save my life. So if I believe all this”—Jess glanced at the flagstones dubiously—“then I’m another damsel in distress. Wouldn’t he have let you marry Enrique without being his servant?”

“Yes. But I begged to serve him eternally, share that responsibility with Enrique as part of our marriage. I do not think that is what swayed his decision, however. He wanted me to have a similar life span, rather than Enrique outliving me by so long.”

Despite Amara’s words, knowing the sexual drive of vampires, Jess was sure Mason had claimed Amara’s body. He wouldn’t be a vampire if he hadn’t. “How did Enrique feel about you and Mason . . .”

“If you come to see me dance, that question will be answered. Enrique will be there.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“As I said earlier, you do, but the question is, do you want your life back, Jess?”

Jess snorted, but the empty anxiety in her stomach contracted. She stopped on the breezeway and faced Amara. “My life is gone, Amara. My fiancé, my family, the career I intended to pursue. I can’t go back to any of it.”

“Your fiancé may be dead, but Lord Mason will work hard to give you back as much of the rest as possible.”

“Sure he will.” Jess turned in a circle, which made her feel slightly sick and more off balance. “Because he’s miraculously different from every vampire I’ve ever met. I mean, he could have his own weekly TV superhero drama. There’s a pilot and two seasons here on these tiles.”

“Perhaps you should ask
her
whether or not he’s different.” Ignoring her caustic tone, Amara nodded. Between the next set of pillars a sandstone wall had been built, and there was a small alcove inside it at waist height. The recession held a shallow stone dish filled with water. The dish was ringed with stones, and a handful of lit candles floated in the water. Jessica approached it slowly, conscious that Amara stayed where she was.

The etching in the stone above the shallow pool was also in Arabic, but she’d studied enough to recognize Farida’s name, though she couldn’t decipher the script beneath. “What does it say?” she asked. Petals floated in the water. Somehow she knew no staff member was given the task of keeping this water clean, the petals fresh, the candles lit. Only one person did that.

“ ‘My heart, my soul, my life. Forever yours.’ ”

He couldn’t have created all this just to fool her. She knew it, but it was far too soon to believe her rational mind. Raithe and death still hovered too close for her to have that courage. Amara had drawn close again, so Jess saw her in her peripheral vision.