Midnight Secrets (24 page)

“I’ll read them,” I said softly. “I know it will be hard, but we need to learn of Mary’s thoughts before she disappeared.”

Aunt Lavinia sighed. “I know. So much of me hopes that there has been some strange mistake or accident, and that she’ll reappear at any moment, even though I know that isn’t possible. Not after this long. I also keep wondering why we stay on here. What more can be accomplished?” Aunt Lavinia buried her face into a handkerchief.

“We’re still here because none of us are ready to leave Mary behind.” Reaching over, I hugged my aunt, for I understood what she meant. Without a body, it was difficult to truly grieve for Mary. For no matter how much time passed, there was this irrational hope that somehow Mary would miraculously appear. Perhaps it was that hope that drove me and my sisters toward doing what we shouldn’t. Or was it our way of grieving? Were we sifting through the remnants of Mary’s life as she last lived it because we had no body to grieve over? More questions with no answers. The time with my sisters passed too quickly, and it was with an uneasy heart that I embraced everyone before leaving.

I found Bridget on her knees inside the church, praying fervently at the altar, and knew her mother must be worse. My heart wrenched. Walking up the aisle, I knelt beside her. I expected to see tears of sadness in her eyes as she looked toward me.

“Oh, Cassie,” she whispered. “You won’t believe it. The most wonderful thing has happened.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me up, dragging me from the church as she chattered. “It’s a miracle, I tell you.”

“What? Is your mother better?”

She shook her head. “Don’t know exactly about me mum just yet. There’s a doctor seeing her and he’s giving her some medicine that is helping. He isn’t sure if she has the consumption or if it’s another lung ailment and won’t know for a week or two, I think, but there’s a chance she might be all right and I’m going to pray for that and hope for that with all of my heart.”

“Me too,” I said.

“I’m going to have to thank Stuart, as well. It goes against my grain to think kindly about him for anything, but I don’t have a choice.”

“Did Stuart hire the doctor?”

“Must have. He’s the only one beside you who knew. My mum was sure the doctor mentioned something about the Killdaren’s man. So I’m figuring he meant the Killdaren’s groomsman.”

As we walked back to the castle, Bridget and I fell silent, each lost in our thoughts. As always the sound of the sea brought Mary to my mind, reminding me that I carried her letters with me. I was anxious to find a quiet moment to read them, hoping I’d learn more about those within the castle’s stone walls.

Thundering up from the dunes as if he’d been waiting for us to appear along the village path raced Stuart on different horse. Though smaller than the black stallion he’d ridden before, the copper colored one ran faster and more gracefully than the other.
 

“Ladies.” He dismounted. Trailing the horse behind him, he joined us on the path.

“Are you hanging around waiting for me to thank you proper?” The edge in Bridget’s voice made me wince.

“You’re so ornery you wouldn’t know a proper thank-you even if the Queen herself introduced you to one.”

“I do too.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.” Bridget grabbed Stuart’s arm, turning him toward her. “Stuart Frye, I thank you for sending a doctor to care for my mum.” Then she leaned up and pressed a plucky kiss to his cheek that surprised us all.

Stuart caught Bridget’s arm before she could move away. “Do that again. I wasn’t expecting it. Therefore, it wasn’t a proper thank-you.”

Bridget huffed, but relented. Her thank-you was a good bit shorter this time, and when she went to peck Stuart on the cheek, he turned his head at the last minute and Bridget’s kiss landed on his mouth. He kissed her back. Embarrassed, I turned away to watch the pelicans swoop over the dunes. I wasn’t sure what Stuart did, but I heard Bridget moan then almost screech.

Turning, I saw her smack Stuart on his shoulder then she jumped back, clearly nowhere near as outraged as she wanted to be.

“You’re no proper gentleman,” she huffed.

Grinning, he went back to his horse. “That’s a title no bastard can lay claim to.” He swung into the saddle, a cynical smile on his face. “But I am man enough to admit the truth. It wasn’t me who hired a doctor to see your mother. I thought about doing so, but by the time I rode into the village to do it, the deed had already been done.”

I burst into laughter. Bridget screeched again as if she’d run him through with a sword.

Stuart was man enough all right. Man enough to face Bridget’s wrath from the top of a horse. I laughed harder.

Bridget glared at me then at Stuart. “You let me kiss you twice knowing that! How dare you!”

Stuart laughed. “Just because I’m not a gentleman doesn’t mean I’m stupid, woman.”

“Stuart Frye, it’ll be a cold day in hell afore I kiss you again.”

“Better fetch yourself a good winter coat, Bridget. Now that the deed is done and I know how much you like it, hell is about to freeze over.”

Chapter Twelve

After dinner that night, Bridget and I read the next story in the
Powerful Vampires and Their Lovers
book, “Forbidden Fruit”. A story that confused us with every unfolding word.

The deed was done.

Mary’s head had rolled and the blood of her cousin stained her hands. Tears fell unchecked from the queen’s eyes. She lay alone in her bed, feeling the fate of the world pressing in on her. There was no one she could trust. No one she could turn to. She’d known nothing but coldness and treachery her whole life, and in a tiny corner of her heart, kept hidden from the world, she longed for a moment, a single moment of love from someone who wanted nothing but herself.

“I am at your service, my queen.”

Rolling to her side, knife from beneath her pillow clutched in her hand, she lashed out at the man, who had to be an assassin. Even from the grave, Mary’s treachery reached to destroy. The man, the most darkly handsome she’d ever seen, laughed. Rather than jumping back from her blade, he stepped into harm’s way and grasped her wrist, stopping her stab, a bare inch from his heart.

“Would you wound the man whom you’ve just cried out for? Did you not just wish to be loved?”

“I've no wish but for your death, knave!” She drew a breath. “G—”

Her scream for help was snuffed by the press of his hand. “Watch carefully, my queen,” he said. Using his grip on her wrist to guide the knife, he moved the blade from hovering over his heart to the very sensitive hollow of his throat. She’d never felt such strength as the man had. He pressed the knife to his throat, cutting into his vibrant flesh. A tiny trickle of blood appeared then disappeared. When he removed the blade, the cut healed over immediately.

The queen stared, disbelieving.

He moved the blade back to his heart and released her wrist. “Do your worst, if you must. It will not matter, I shall heal. But the wound to your heart this day will never heal. I feel your pain, for once, long ago, I too, had to kill in order to survive.” Sliding his hand from her mouth, he placed his hand upon her breast, over her heart that beat so wildly. No man had ever touched her so, and the heat of his touch burned a fire through her breast that eased the pain that had been wrenching her apart.

“Who are you?”

He smiled, showing his fangs.

“Draco, a vampire who needs no nation, nor wealth, but only the love of a woman. A woman who would love me for me and not for the immortality that burdens my days.” He slowly slid his hand away from her breast, leaving her aching for another touch. “There are those who are not fit to live a day, much less forever. So, my queen, do you call for your guards? Or would you care to share some wine and cheese? I’m curious as to why a woman who commands a nation can be so lonely that her cry reaches across centuries of time?”

“I must dress.”

“Pity, I was about to ask you to undress.”

“Only a virgin queen can call her heart fit to rule.”

He smiled. “There is more than one way to pleasure. Perhaps, I’ll show you.”

“Perhaps I will call my guards after all.”

He walked to the wine and poured two glasses. Then drinking from each, he brought one to her. She didn’t call her guards. She didn’t dress either.

“Blimey, what do you think he means by ‘more than one way to pleasure’?” Bridget asked, setting down the book.

“I’m certain it must have something to do with vampire lore.” I stood and went to the wash basin. I felt the need of a cool cloth, and definitely had to occupy my hands. The urge to read more was almost overwhelming. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bridget close the book and lay back on her cot with a sigh.

“Is it really like that, do you think? Queen of a whole bloody nation and as lonely as a street urchin?”

“Yes. Look at the castle here. Don’t you think Sean Killdaren, with all of his riches, is just as lonely?”

Bridget nodded and by some unspoken agreement, we both readied for bed and turned the lights out. Earlier I’d placed the box of Mary’s letters under my bed and planned to read them as soon as Bridget fell asleep. Meanwhile, I lay back on the lumpy cot, running my finger over the ridges of the pheasant shell and its carved M, wondering if cries of the soul could be heard across time and distance, for surely, I had felt Mary’s cry to me.

Turning to my side, I thought I detected a hint of Sean Killdaren’s exotic scent. Surely my imagination had gone wild, but then the edge of an envelope cut into my cheek. Pulse racing ahead of the anticipation filling me, I searched inside my pillow case and found the letter.

It was blank on the outside, but I knew it was meant for me and I knew from whom it had come.

Sean.

My hands trembled as I lit a candle stub, thankful to hear Bridget’s soft snore, for I don’t think I would have been able to delay reading the note, even if it meant having the whole world read it, too. It didn’t escape my notice that he’d placed the note intimately inside my pillow, rather than on it or beneath it, and that made heat curl inside me as hotly as if he’d slid into my bed. I’d invaded his privacy and now he’d intruded into mine, unexpectedly turning the tables.

He’d sealed the letter with a dragon imprinted upon gold wax. Inside, the card read:

For tonight only, this card assures safe passage to the round room.

Upon my honor,

Sean Killdaren

My heart caught then hammered. I’d expected flowery words, a proper apology for the liberties he’d taken. How dare he plague me with such a ludicrous, utterly scandalous temptation? I threw the invitation to the floor and plopped back into the bed. Then, deciding I needed to hide it, I stuffed it under my pillow and blew out the candle. Ha! Surely, he had to think I was about the most unintelligent being that ever set foot upon the earth.

Safe passage! Ha! Upon his honor! Ha! It was more likely to be a sinful passage, upon his bed.

I shifted, uncomfortable on the lumpy cot. Then I turned to my left side and tried to forget everything about Sean Killdaren. Instead I found myself recalling the way I had left him in the library. Then I heard the loud screeching from the round room. I could not spend another night with the noise and not know what it was. I had to go. Go to him or go insane. I dressed in one of the older gowns I’d brought with me without even lighting a candle. I didn’t want to shed any light on the action I was taking. If I had, I might have let propriety raise a ruling hand.

Heat tingled my palms again as I opened the door to his wing. It gave me but a moment’s pause, as did the remnants of his exotic scent lingering in the corridor. My heart pounded, determined to make every moment of my journey beyond any safe practical boundary fraught with apprehension. And I realized with an almost dismal sense of fatalism that Sean was right on more accounts than I ever wanted him to be.

Like Sean had accused in the library, I’d not the honesty to immediately give up this life for all knowledge and pleasure. Instead, I ventured out only a step at a time, but just as assuredly going to my own demise. This wasn’t only about Mary anymore. Not when it came to Sean, the lonely man in the darkness of the night. This was about me, and what he made me feel. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t keep searching for an answer to what happened, but in that search, I was now looking for myself. The true Cassie that lay beneath all the prim and proper advice I’d been writing for years.

I expected,
wanted
, to find Sean waiting for my arrival, perhaps pacing the corridor, wondering if I’d come. It was the least he could have done after torturing me so. He wasn’t. The only indication that he might be expecting me was that the door to the round room hung ajar, but the recesses beyond lay dark and now quiet.

I cleared my throat as I peeked into the room, my mind scrambling as to what to call him in person. I knew him more intimately than I should, and yet I barely knew him at all.

“Uh, Mr. Killdaren? Are you here?” Even I could hear the squeak of apprehension wobbling my voice.

His deep laugh came from somewhere up above. “Welcome to my lair where vampires feed and dragons breed. Enter if you dare.”

I stopped and didn’t even breathe.

He laughed again. “Surely you have more gumption than to let a few words frighten you away, lass.”

“Where are you?” I moved inside the room, craning my neck to see beyond the shadows.

“My name is Sean. Take the iron stairs to the top. Light a candle if you must, but hurry and you’ll be one of the few women in history to see the Great Nebula in Orion.”

Nebula? I wasn’t sure exactly what that was, other than it sounded similar to Dracula. I did know that Orion was a star constellation, but that was little consolation. Choosing not to light a candle, for I was still hiding in the dark from myself, I groped my way to the stairs and began to climb. Once I reached the second floor landing, I discovered another grated iron floor above where the night sky made the glass dome an invisible barrier from the wind.