The curse of Kalaan (23 page)

“Georges Maltinard,” Darius Borgas’ gloomy voice reminded her. It was the first time he spoke since his arrival on the isle. He then looked back into Virginie’s eyes with the cold eyes of a killer.

The psychological shock of the constant silent menace was so brutally intense, that a dark veil clouded the young woman’s vision and she fell, unconscious into a bottomless pit.

Chapter 15

Close surveillance

            
 
V
irginie whimpered in her sleep. Pain was boring into her skull, keeping her from coming back to reality. The throbbing in her temples spread all the way to her ears, making them ring. That is not what woke her up, however. No, what woke her was the feeling of a soft damp cloth being placed on her forehead.

Where was she? Gradually Virginie became aware of the weight of a sheet and blanket on her body and the firmness of a mattress under her and she realized she was in a bed. Her eyelids began to flutter and as she slowly opened her eyes she could barely make out an imposing silhouette sitting on the bed next to her. The light from the fireplace behind gave the impression of a shadow puppet. She could not see who it was, but she knew it wasn’t a woman, for the contours were definitely masculine.
Darius!

The shameful name was the first to come to Virginie’s mind and she reacted purely on instinct. Jumping back against her pillow, she pulled her knees up to her chest and cried out in fear.

“This is the second time I’ve frightened you.” The deep voice sounded amused. “Yesterday you threatened me with a glass. What will your weapon of choice be tonight, your nightdress? Not that I would mind.”

Virginie was still shaking with fright, but little by little she started relaxing. The voice’s unique baritone timbre could only belong to one man — Kalaan.

“What… where am I?”

“In your room.”

“And you?”

“It would seem I am too!” Kalaan laughed and put the cloth he’d used on her face back in the porcelain bowl full of cold water.

She sighed rubbing her temples, then closed her eyes and counted to ten before speaking. Virginie needed to gather her thoughts before talking to this brash young man. Meanwhile, remembering the scar on his palm, Kalaan took advantage of her closed eyes to put his black leather gloves on.

“You hit your head sliding off your chair at dinner,” he told her, his tone slightly more serious this time. When she opened her eyes again, he held a glass under her nose before continuing. “You have been unconscious since the accident, until just now and it is two o’clock in the morning.”

“What is this?” Virginie looked suspiciously at the contents of the glass Kalaan had in his hand.

“It isn’t cognac. Don’t get your hopes up, my sweet.” Kalaan, an undisciplined brown lock falling across his forehead was enjoying himself. His sensuous lips curled up into a magnificent smile.

Virginie, captivated by his humor, returned his smile as she pulled the sheet up across her chest, which luckily was already covered by her nightgown. Her hand trembled as she took the glass.

“’Tis but a sedative, prepared by our druid, Jaouen. It is he who took care of you after your fall. You gave everyone such a fright!”

“Oh… I am so sorry.” her soft voice was almost a whisper. She tasted the bitter concoction with some reluctance and made a face.

“It has poppy seeds in it, just enough to curb the pain, which may make you sleepy. You have a pretty bump on her forehead,” he said teasing her.

Virginie forced herself to drain the glass then gingerly felt the bump on her head, near her hairline.

“Ouch!”

“For goodness sake! Don’t touch it! You also likely have a concussion! Women! I tell you!”

Now that she was completely conscious and had collected her thoughts, Virginie realized that the count was sitting much too close to her on the bed. He was as attractive as ever in his dark cloths and white ruffle shirt and his shoulder-length hair flowing free. In the presence of so much charisma, the young woman felt deep turmoil and her heart began to pound.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sitting up straight and looking around the room, realizing that they really were alone.

“I’m watching over you.”

“But, a man alone with a woman in her room, well, it is simply not done! Gwendoline could have taken care of me!”

Kalaan sighed in feigned sadness, lit a candle on the bedside table and brought a gloved hand to his heart, his amber-green eyes sparkling with humor.

“I devote myself to you, body and soul, and this is how you thank me? How ungrateful of you! Joking aside however, undesirables have invaded our home. I am of course referring to the Duchess Delatour and her servants. As a result, your chambermaid and much of our personnel have had to move back to the village. As for your reputation, have no fear; it is safe… at least for tonight,” Kalaan added, pleased to see her blush at his innuendo. “Isabelle has just gone to request light refreshment. We’ve been relaying each other at your bedside.”

“And
Monsieur
Borgas?” Virginie asked, holding her breath after the words escaped her.

Kalaan’s face froze and his expression darkened. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he opened and closed his fists before standing up and turning away.

“He is lodged at the inn and the seminarian grandson is staying at the presbytery. Why? Does it matter to you?”

“No, not in the least!” Virginie flinched. She didn’t understand the count’s sudden mood change.

“Have you known this Borgas person, long?” he asked, grumbling. His baritone voice had turned harsh losing all trace of sensuality.

“Just over a year… we were introduced a few months before my father passed away.” Virginie replied, nervously playing with the embroidery on her sheet.

She remembered a dance; Darius was there, his behavior not worthy of a gentleman, and her father, Josephe de Macy, had protected her from the man’s shameless advances. Afterwards, he had come to their home in Paris on several occasions, until the day he and her father had that huge argument in her father’s study.

Josephe died in the early hours of the morning following the quarrel. He suffered from convulsions and abdominal cramps, made worse by nausea and vomiting. He suffered terribly, and before dying he’d fallen into a sort of delirium, incoherently babbling about Darius and a guild.

The family doctor was at his bedside the entire time and only an hour after his arrival said he was certain it was a poison. But when Josephe started talking about Darius and the guild, he suddenly changed his attitude. In the early morning, before his precipitated departure, his opinion had changed and on the death certificate he wrote: “Cause of death – heart attack.”

It was then that Virginie became convinced her father had been murdered by Darius and contacted Georges Maltinard. A few months earlier her father gave her the address,
“If ever something serious happens to me, contact this man. He is absolutely trustworthy and will know how to help you.”

“Are you lovers?”

Kalaan’s tone sounded aggressive which startled Virginie out of her painful memories. Thinking she’d misunderstood, she asked, in a frightened whisper,

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you having an affair with that man?” Kalaan asked again, but this time turning around to look her in the eyes.

The question was impertinent and it triggered feelings of both anger and horror in Virginie, and she started shaking from head to toe.

“How dare you?” She sat up straight, ignoring the pain that bore further into her skull with each angry word. “What right do you have to ask me such a thing? You have no idea who Darius Borgas is, nor what he is capable of! He… he’s…”

Kalaan’s attitude changed at once from probing to attentive and his face started to relax slowly.

“He frightens you!” he exclaimed. Everything suddenly became so obvious. “You are terrified, Virginie.”

It was all too much for the young woman; and the tears she’d been holding in for months began to run uncontrollably down her cheeks. Her sorrow was suffocating her and Kalaan rushed to her side to take her in his arms. Caressing her back and rocking her as if she were a small child, he murmured words of reassurance in her ear.

There, in the solid warm cocoon of his arms, Virginie felt safe at last. It was as powerful as the way she felt before, with Catherine at the edge of the cliff; it was a marvelous feeling of invulnerability and it was what she needed more than anything else in that moment.

“I am aware that we hardly know each other, but I think it would be wise to tell me the whole story.”

Virginie shook her head in dissent and took a long deep breath, focusing on the scent of his muscular body against hers. The typically masculine odor, smooth and spicy, the essence of Kalaan… It was so intense and so captivating that she relaxed completely. She felt so happy there, her cheek resting against his shoulder, with his gloved hands stroking her back.

“Virginie! Blast it! Don’t fall asleep! Damn that concoction!” The young woman sighed happily through the potion-induced haze that was clouding her mind.

“Virginie, we must continue our discussion about Borgas!” Kalaan insisted, trying to shake her awake.

“No, no,”she moaned. Her head felt so heavy, she let it fall back away from Kalaan wincing as he shook her. “He… he’ll… hurt… you.”

Jaouen’s potion was so powerful that Virginie was soon fast asleep. Kalaan looked at her, not believing his eyes. After a moment, he simply shrugged his shoulders and carefully lay her down on the bed. He then removed his gloves and wiped away the rest of her tears.

She looked so peaceful and beautiful lying there, asleep. Kalaan couldn’t bring himself to plunge her back into torment. Besides, she was injured and needed to get her strength back. Virginie would tell him the whole story tomorrow, he was confident. And if she didn’t, he would ask Jaouen to concoct a truth potion, preferably without a sedative!

Giving in to impulse, Kalaan leaned over and gently placed his lips on hers. As he did so, he let out a low growling moan, feeling a burning desire growing in his loins. Virginie sighed, her sweet breath caressing Kalaan’s face and he closed his eyes and sat up groaning under his breath. God, but he wanted her!

“What are you doing?”

He hadn’t heard Isabelle come into the room, so her voice startled him. And yet he took his time pulling away from Virginie, and continued to gaze at her despite his sister’s presence.

“I think I’m falling in love,” he confessed in a low voice, lost in his contemplation of Virginie’s lovely face, enhanced by the long Venetian-blond hair that framed it.

Isabelle laid a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “This is the first time you’ve opened your heart and spoken so freely to me,” she said, feeling very moved.

“And from now on, I will do it more often.” Kalaan placed his hand on hers before turning to look at his sister. “I have not been the big brother you wished for, but I will make up for the lost time, I give you my word!”

“Oh, Kalaan!” Isabelle exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms and holding him very tight against her. Virginie, jostled a little in her sleep, grunted and rolled over turning her back to them, making Kalaan and Isabelle laugh softly.

“As you’ve admitted your attachment for Ginny, There is something I feel you should know. She has feelings for you as well.” As she spoke, Isabelle looked her brother in the eyes and saw his astonishment.

“What!”

“Actually, she confessed to having feelings for Catherine.”

“Catherine?” Kalaan asked, taken aback. “But she’s a woman!”

“You are such an idiot.” Amused by her brother’s reaction, Isabelle spoke with tenderness. “What she feels is for you, the man. Her body and her soul recognized you, but it confuses her when she sees you during the day…”

“She sees the
thing,
”
Kalaan said, finishing his sister’s sentence for her. “Lord, how I wish this curse would end right now!”

“As do I, my dear brother. It would make our lives much easier. However, I must admit I’ve become somewhat attached to your feminine side.”

“There is absolutely nothing feminine about me!” the count protested with false indignation. He was delighted at the newly developed sense of complicity with his sister. Isabelle laughed, ruffling his hair.