Knight-in-Arms - Trust: (BWWM Interracial Paranormal Shifter Romance Part Two) (2 page)

He was so candid about it. Rochelle felt sick. Her stomach churned in unsettling motions. So, if it wasn’t for her fighting back, enabled by the brave Mindy, she’d be dead and devoured by now. That dog deserved a medal. Or a bone – as long as it wasn’t a human one.

“I’m so sorry, Rochelle”, he said, “If I could turn back time…”

“Well, you can’t” she said. Suddenly, she’d had enough. She wanted to go home. Her family probably didn’t even know where she was.

“Where’s my phone?” she asked.

“Here” he opened the top drawer of the bedside table. She took it and switched it on. She had a text from her mum, dated from eleven days before. Eleven days.

Had her hair been out for eleven days? She reached up to feel it. It was dry and had started to frizz.
Why, why, why?
But there was nothing she could do; the damage had already been done. She sighed and turned back to her mum’s text.

OK darling. Have fun. See you soon. Xxx

When Xavier told her they had impersonated her and sent a text to her family saying she’d gone away for a few days because she was bored, she could have punched him. Lying to her family like that. How dare he?

“We had to give them an excuse for why you weren’t coming home”.

“And why was that?” snapped Rochelle, “Because not even I know why I haven’t been home in eleven days!”

“When I…bit you, I released some venom and so you were recovering from it”. This was going from unbelievable to impossible. If she hadn’t actually lived through the terror of that night, she would never have believed any of this. Recovering or not, she was so done with this place.

“Tell the Duke of Wyvern thanks for his hospitality but I’m cutting my visit short”.

Xavier looked surprised when she mentioned the Duke of Wyvern, like she knew something he hadn’t wanted her to know. And then, the thought occurred to her:

“Don’t tell me you’re the Duke of Wyvern”.

“I’m not”, said Xavier, “The Duke of Wyvern is my father”.

*              *              *

That night, Rochelle lay awake thinking. She’d fallen asleep again soon after Xavier had left her so now, she felt wide awake. Too many shocks in one day: venom, eating people, eleven days, Xavier the heir of a duke… Her thoughts were oddly loud and overpowering in the darkness. She wanted an adventure not a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. Yet here she was.

Where would she and Xavier be now if none of this had ever happened, if she hadn’t gone round when he’d said not to? She wouldn’t have been attacked. They might even have gone on a couple of dates. It probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway, what with him gaining the title of Duke one day… But suppose it had.

Still, he ate people… That part was still grotesque and weird. However, having slept and got over the initial shock, it didn’t sound as bad as it had when she’d first heard him say it. This was a new environment, a new territory with different rules and ideas.

Eating humans seemed disgusting to her because she had grown up in a time and place where it was frowned upon. But if she’d lived in a time where cannibalism was acceptable, she might have had a different reaction – she might even have been a cannibal herself.

It was just like sashimi. She was brought up in a society where fish was cooked and because of that, she’d felt a bit sick the first time she went to eat sashimi with her fellow English teachers in Japan. Once she broke down her prejudice against eating raw fish, however, she found she was able to enjoy it.

In the case of Xavier – or should she say ‘Earl Knight’ – she wasn’t going to start eating humans – good grief, no way – but what if she tried to understand where he was coming from?

What if this thing….this ‘turning’ thing was something that happened once a month like menstruating – no, not like menstruating – like…like turning into a werewolf in movies? If she just stayed away from him at those times, she’d be safe. After all, isn’t that why he locked and chained himself up in the basement, so he wouldn’t endanger the people round him? Isn’t that why he lived alone, pushing her away at first, warning her that she wouldn’t want to get to know him?

She could see how lonely he was living like that.

She sniffed. Oh dear. She hadn’t realised she’d started crying. She wiped her tears away.

She could give him a chance, get to know him better like she’d wanted to at the restaurant – this time, not romantically but as friends.

As the case had it, she didn’t see Xavier much during the coming days. He was away a lot and when he was there, he didn’t come and see her, at least not when she was awake.  A few times, when she’d been either drifting off to sleep or near waking up, she’d heard him come in and ask whoever was looking after her that day how she was. He’d watch her for a few moments, apologise yet again, and then leave. It was kind of sad to see him so remorseful. But when she was awake, she seldom saw him. She thought he was giving her space, which she really appreciated.

Rochelle had lots to keep her occupied, anyway. At her request, the staff arranged for a black hair dresser to come round and rescue her hair. She felt much better after that.

A new wardrobe had also materialised overnight and there were some gorgeous outfits – all in her size. She could get used to this kind of life, she thought. Of course, she was planning on leaving them all here when she left. What a shame. She’d feel uncomfortable taking them with her.

A few items were not her style at all and she wouldn’t be sad to leave behind at all – when was she going to wear that fussy white blouse? The choirboy look was so not her. And this vintage dress was a must-have if you wanted to look like a celebrity – from the 19
th
century – It could almost be an actual museum piece. Rochelle smiled to the reflection of herself wearing the atrocity. Simple things pleased simple minds.

One day, however, he came to visit while she was awake. Feeling much better, she was sitting on the sofa texting her mum, wearing one of her new outfits.

“It’s a nice day” he said. “Mindy and I were wondering if you’d like to come on a picnic with us”.

“Um…”
Mindy and I…
The last time she’d been alone with him and Mindy, she’d hit him in the head with a book and scratched his face. But hadn’t she decided to give him a chance? She could start by not running screaming mentally as soon as he walked into the room…

“Okay. That sounds nice”.

They had the picnic in the gardens, overlooking the lake. Mindy was running on the opposite side, chasing ducks. It was lovely to be outside again, to feel the sun on her skin, to hear birds singing live, rather than filtered through a wall. She felt happy and content with how things were at this very moment.

She turned to him. They were both a bit cautious around each other, afraid to say anything that would ruin the idyllic mood.

“You know, I don’t know how to speak to you now you’re a duke’s son”.

“You can start by calling me ‘my lord’” he said. There he was teasing her again.

“And do I have to curtsey?” She’d only curtsied once in her life and that was when a duchess had come to her high school to present an award. It was the most awkward movement ever. Very easy to over balance.

“Every time I enter the room”.

He chuckled. It was nice to hear him laugh again. It went so well with the atmosphere.

“Just speak to me normally. I am a person above all else”.

Rochelle picked up a strawberry.

“Are you going back to Lower Ferton?” she asked.

After a month at Roseford, Doctor Astor had said she was very nearly well enough to go home.

He looked at her. The sun gave his eyes a striking amber colour. In spite of everything, why did his gaze make her heart race?

“I might”, he said, “If I have reason to”.

He might, which also meant he might not. Her heart sank a bit. Was she disappointed she might never see him again? But that wasn’t possible.

“Well, if you’re ever in the neighbourhood, you should come and visit”.

“Really?” he seemed surprised. Rochelle smiled.

“Really. I bet you’ve never had home-made Jamaican food before. I’ll make it for you”. Rochelle was confident in her cooking; after all, she had learnt from the best. Her Jamaican grandmother was an amazing cook.

“Well, I’ll look forward to it” he said.

They fell into silence.

“Rochelle…” he began. The tone of his voice was hesitant. She knew he wanted to address the incident, the elephant in the room, and she didn’t want him to, in case it changed things just when they were starting to get along again.

“Remember when I said I’d only care about the ‘you’ now?” She asked.

“I haven’t forgotten about what happened, but I want to move forward and focus on the present. Okay?”

She offered him her hand. He shook it and then pressed it to his lips in a brief kiss.

“Okay” he agreed.

*              *              *

Xavier had already gone out when she went down the next day so she had breakfast alone. There were unopened letters for him on the table. One was in a black envelope. Rochelle thought it was unusual, which made it pretty. As she buttered her toast, she wondered why envelopes were generally all the same colour. Who had decided that pink or blue or tartan were not acceptable? Trivial thoughts at any rate.

She idled away the rest of the day exploring the house, playing with Mindy in the garden and watching videos from her phone, though both the wifi and phone reception in the countryside were not the best.

As she was picking out an outfit for dinner, someone knocked on her door. It was one of the servants with a message. Xavier was back and wanted to see her in his bedroom before dinner.

After receiving the message, her outfit choice suddenly became a lot more complicated. However, she settled on a red dress and when she was ready, began the long journey to Xavier’s bedroom.

She knocked on the door.

“Come in” said Xavier. She went inside. He was sitting on the sofa, reading. He looked up as she entered.

“Rochelle” he exclaimed. His voice was warm and he smiled as he closed the book and set it down beside him.

“I got a message that you wanted to see me”.

He patted the sofa next to him, gesturing for her to sit down.

“I’ve got a present for you” he said.

“What’s the occasion?”

Rochelle crossed the room and sat down, trying to appear calm when really, she felt a little jittery and nervous. She loved receiving presents from people she knew well but it was awkward when it came from someone she was less well acquainted with. It felt like she was indebted to them somehow and she was a bit too independent to enjoy that feeling.

“There isn’t one” he replied, “I saw it and it made me think of you”.

He picked up a box lying next to his book on the sofa, and gave it to her. She took a deep breath and opened it.

It was an absolutely gorgeous necklace. Opening it should have been accompanied by a chorus of harp-playing angels.

A single diamond could twinkle but here, there were so, so many diamonds clustered together that instead of twinkling, they collectively shimmered, like the sun on the surface of a beautiful crystal blue ocean. Rochelle was mesmerised. And then moved. Warmth radiated from her heart to think that someone – that Xavier – thought enough of her to give her such an amazingly exquisite gift.