“Oh, I’ve always got something on my mind.” She pulled the rose petals across her lips, remembering how Sebastian had done the same the fateful night she had been inexplicably drawn to him. She had thought him her dark lover, and giving in had been the sweetest agony.
“Elisabeth?”
“Hmm? Oh, I was entertaining wicked thoughts, you might say.”
He was so handsome, decked out in his silk waistcoat and fitted breeches. The top buttons on his vest were undone, revealing a lace shirt tied at his neck.
I hope he keeps it tied, she mused. That should prevent vampire bites.
“What kind of wicked thoughts?” He leaned across the bed, positioning his chin upon his hand. His dark eyes took control of his face, captivating her with his mystical gaze. A gaze she could endure for eternity.
“This kind.” She leaned over and kissed him. The short stubble above his upper lip tickled as she played across his mouth. Sebastian reached around and pulled her on top of him and they sank back onto the thick mattress.
“And this kind.” She trailed her tongue down the curve of his chin, then kissed and nipped her way over to the soft folds of his ear.
“Elisa—”
She quickly silenced him with a gentle palm over his mouth. “You’ve objections, Monsieur LeReaux?” She giggled. “Not that I’ll listen, mind you, but go ahead spoil my fun.” She removed her hand from his mouth to find a smile.
“You are a delightful woman, Elisabeth.” He touched the lace at her wrist, eyeing her body as the light from the window shone through the thin cotton, silhouetting her figure. With a groan he shifted her off his chest and sat up. “I hope your uncle Vincent forgives me, but I wish for you to stay with me for as long as possible. Perhaps a few more days? A short holiday before you are off to your studies?”
His innocent request lingered in his sparkling eyes. Finding herself drawn again, she put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. She knew he had to be in agony having her so close and wearing so little clothing. But she didn’t care. She kissed him again and found that with each touch of his mouth to hers he mined her deepest emotions.
A holiday? The possibility of staying here in the eighteenth century did seem enticing. Especially knowing it would be with Sebastian. But she couldn’t, it wouldn’t be right.
“You make me wish that I could stay forever, Sebastian. But my uncle must be worried after not meeting up with me last night.”
“Ah yes. You should let him know that you are in good hands. And then ask for his favor of letting you stay a few days. He can speak to my father if he has any misgivings.”
“Yes, I should call him, shouldn’t I?” Scarlet sat up and looked toward the dressing table on the far wall. Where was the phone?
“Call him?”
“Yes, you know . . .” She started to put her hand up to her ear to imitate a receiver, but stopped halfway as she caught Sebastian’s bewildered look. “Call him,” she muttered, remembering her situation. “Yes, I mean call on him. Correspond with him. I should write to Uncle Vincent.”
“I’ll have some stationery brought in and you can write to him before we start the day. By late afternoon he should have your letter in hand, and hopefully by nightfall we’ll hear back.” Sebastian stood and straightened his waistcoat, buttoning the center button, which had slipped open during their tumble.
“I will leave you to get dressed. If someone were to see us—well, I’ll return shortly.” He returned her kiss.
“Thank you for everything, Sebastian. You’ve been kind to take me in.”
He trailed his fingers down her bare arm and raised her hand to kiss her fingertips. Then with a wink he turned and walked to the door. “I’ll be back soon. And don’t worry about your uncle, I’ll send a servant with some paper right away.” He stood at the door and announced, “Until I see you again, my angel from heaven.”
***
Gary knocked on the rickety white boards of the screen door, which sent dried paint flakes crumbling to his feet. There were many other places that he’d rather be right now, but his curiosity and fear had gotten the better of him. He had to talk to Sebastian, to get some answers.
He knocked again, scanning the outside of the house and the front yard in a sweeping glance. It was noon and Sebastian’s Corvette was in the garage. He had to be home. Reluctantly, he tried the door and found that it opened. He entered and looked around the kitchen, noticing how pristine everything was.
“Quite the housekeeper,” he whispered, scanning across the row of copper pans that hung over the counter. He was surprised that Sebastian hadn’t appeared upon hearing his entrance, but maybe he was in a far room. He called out, but got no response.
“Where the heck is he?”
He moved through the kitchen. The living room was silent and empty. The afternoon sun peeked through the window and highlighted the dust on the sill. Surprised that Sebastian had missed the dust, Gary turned and walked back to the stairway where he stood rubbing a palm over the smooth railing, his thoughts rampant.
“Sebastian?” he called between chomps on his gum, and then decided to check out the upstairs to see if he was still sleeping.
Feeling a little uneasy, he rounded the top step and walked to the only door on the upper level. He took a deep breath and pushed the air out before he turned the knob and slowly creaked the door open to peek inside. The white knotted bedspread hung down to the floor and the surface of the bed was flat.
He opened the door wide and crept in. “Sebastian, it’s Gary. Are you in here? I want to talk to you.” He waited, his jaws working madly, but still no response.
He strode across the floor and then stopped as the hardwood boards groaned beneath his steps. His jaw froze and he looked around, his eyes narrowing on the closet door to his right, fearful that Sebastian would come flying out at him at any second.
But he didn’t.
Gary exhaled and resumed normal chewing pace. He walked toward the door across the room and peeked into the bathroom. It was empty.
“This gives me the creeps,” he said stepping down the stairs.
He was going to leave but then figured he might as well check the last hallway. He must be practicing, he thought, and headed down the kitchen hallway. Around the corner another door opened as easily as the others.
Gary looked down the half-flight of steps. The stairway was dark, save for a sliver of light shining through an unseen window, highlighting a stream of dust particles. Feeling a lump the size of his fist rise in his throat, he wavered.
“Sebastian?”
He stood back, eyeing the staircase. In horror movies, the frightened girl always went down the dreaded dark stairs when everyone else in the world knew that the monster was lurking in the shadows below.
Gary laughed quietly. He wasn’t crazy, no, he wasn’t going down there.
But what was that against the far wall? He couldn’t make it out because the light wasn’t shining directly on it.
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin and looked back around the corner toward the kitchen. Sebastian was definitely not home so he would never know that Gary had been snooping around.
He snuck down the steps, his jaw working madly, pumping the adrenaline to his legs to keep him going until his feet touched the cement floor. It smelled musty and dry and the light coming in from the tiny window reached halfway across the room and lit up the end of the thing by the wall.
“Ah man, another goddamned coffin.”
He walked closer, holding his hands to his chest as if to keep from absentmindedly reaching for it. He’d seen too many coffins lately. And what a strange place to keep it, in one’s own basement.
He strode back and forth from one end of the shiny ebony coffin to the other. He teetered back and forth on his feet and reached out to finger the shiny surface. He tapped the box lightly and slid his fingers across the curved top. It was smooth and cold as if polished marble.
Again he scanned the room and looked up to the
door, cracked open to reveal a thin stream of light across the wooden steps. He knew that he shouldn’t be here, but. . .
Yes, he had to. He couldn’t leave until he did.
Placing both hands along the front of the coffin, he pushed up and heard it crack open with little pressure. Slowly, he pulled it up and then pushed back until the lid was standing straight up, held open by the hinges on the other side.
Gary barely had time to register the rush of cold air before a frigid hand lashed out and grabbed him by the neck.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The veins in his face bulged and his eyes burned. He tried to scream but could only choke and gasp. The hand clamped over his windpipe crushed the muscles in his neck, and sent his gum spewing to the floor. He couldn’t move or look down to see who or what it was attached to.
“Gary!”
The vise-like grip on his neck slackened and Gary fell to the ground, his hands going to his throat.
Sebastian sprang from the coffin, landing with the grace of a cat. “Gary, I didn’t know it was you. What are you doing here?”
The soreness in his throat only allowed him to whisper hoarsely. “Shit, man, I gotta get out of here.” He stood but stumbled forward into Sebastian’s arms, still dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
“I’m sorry, Gary, if I’d known it was you—”
“Yeah, well it is me, so get your hands off me.” He pushed him away and stood back near the light from the window. “What the hell are you doing in that thing?”
“It affords a lot of peace and quiet.”
Gary rubbed his fingers across his throat. “A coffin! You’re kidding, right?”
Sebastian shrugged and walked to the foot of the stairs. “Gary, there are some things I have to tell you about myself . . . and about Scarlet.”
“Oh yeah? I’m not gonna like this, am I?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Cause if it involves you and Scarlet then I know I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Come on, let’s go upstairs. I think you'll want to sit down for this one.”
***
Scarlet stood before the mirror, summing up her figure. Annalise had dressed her in a pink and white silk dress, with petticoats of dark and light pink stripes that plunged out from under her open skirts. She had dismissed the use of a hoop; during the party, she had felt like a huge ship navigating between closely spaced icebergs. Without the rigid wire hoop she was able to move more freely, even though her breath was still pinched by the tightly cinched corset.
Annalise put her hair up for her, topping it with a bejeweled pink bow. When Scarlet wished she had a hat to shade her eyes from the wretched sun, Annalise produced a wide-brimmed straw hat.
Having written a letter to ‘Uncle Vincent’ and sealed it for the mail coach, she now waited for Sebastian to return. He appeared almost immediately after the servant’s exit.
“Ready to go?”
“Sebastian.” Scarlet felt the heat rush to her chest at the sight of him. The frock coat and breeches dressed him so elegantly it seemed he would be out of place wearing jeans and cowboy boots.
If he only knew what he was to become in the future, she thought. If given a choice, would he choose to live forever? No, she couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t his choice. If she was to return to the future she had to make that decision for him.
"Oui, let’s go.” It was becoming obvious now that she would never wish to be away from Sebastian. Ever.
She looped her arm through his as he led her down the parquet hallway and out to the empty ballroom where last night hordes of painted people had danced the evening away. The wide black- and white-marble floor was barren of furniture and the crystal chandeliers tinkled gaily in the wind that blew through the opened doors.
“My mother is in the garden. She spends a lot of time with her roses. She breeds them, and she’s created a new one, the one I brought you this morning. Wasn’t it the most exotic flower you’ve smelled?”
Sebastian’s enthusiasm about his mother was a breath of fresh air. He had a family and a mortal life. “It did smell divine. Maybe someday a perfume can be made from them.”
“She’s going to love you, I know it. She loves everything that I care about.”
With great enthusiasm, Sebastian walked her around the fish ponds, nearly pulling her across the grounds to the gardens in front of the maze. What the darkness hid last night, the sun proudly highlighted today. Blooms of every color stretched toward the sky. Brilliant reds, yellows, and deep lavenders painted an intricate tapestry across the solid green walls of the maze.
From beneath the protective shade of her hat, Scarlet could see his mother seated on a white iron bench tending to a basket of cut flowers. As they neared, she saw the woman looked quite old. She was small, and her shoulders were rounded on her tiny frame. But when she looked up, Scarlet realized that she must be much younger than her graying hair made her out to be.
Sebastian unlaced his arm from Scarlet’s and knelt by his mother in the dew-kissed grass. He took her hand and kissed her fingers and cheek. Leaning close to speak, as if she might have trouble hearing, he said proudly, “Mother, I’d like to introduce you to Elisabeth Montrose, the woman I told you about.”
He held out his hand, which Scarlet took, smiling at the elegant woman who stared gently up at her. Her face was framed by a delicate lace collar and on her head sat a matching white lace cap. Her rich burgundy dress cast a rosy glow upon her sallow cheeks.
“Elisabeth, this is my mother, Duchess Angelique de la Courte LeReaux, truly the most beautiful woman in all of France, including the queen.”
“Bastian, you mustn’t speak of the queen that way.” His mother spoke so quietly that Scarlet had to lean forward to catch every word.
“But it’s the truth, mere!" He stood and put his arm around Scarlet’s shoulders. “I am in the presence of the two most beautiful women in the world.”
“He’s a dear, isn’t he?” Angelique set her basket on the ground and gestured to the space on the bench near her side. “Sit down, Elisabeth, let me talk with you. Bastian, would you be a love and get us something to drink? It’s terribly hot today.”
“Certainly, I’ll be right back, mother.”
He left in a sprint toward the house, leaving Scarlet impressed at his devotion to his mother. Angelique de la Courte LeReaux. So that’s where his last name came from. He must have changed it sometime over the last two centuries.
And her name was Angelique. There was something familiar about that name. Oh yes! Angelique’s Pride, the name of the roses he had sent after their first date. The love he held for his mother had spanned the centuries. He had taken her name and cherished her memory.
Scarlet sighed. Learning these tidbits made Sebastian so much more human.
“It has been treacherous lately, the weather.” Angelique fanned her face from the morning sun, and smiled at Scarlet with cheeks that creased into folds of crepe-thin wrinkles. “But summer does bring out the romance in young hearts, and the old as well. It was a lovely night for a party, wasn’t it?”
"Oui, it was. And the courtyard looked so beautiful. I’ve never been to such a marvelous party.”
“You haven’t?”
“No, I guess I don’t get out too often. An occasional bar—ah, I mean . . .”
Obviously not paying that much attention, Angelique sighed and laid a thick, veined hand over Scarlet’s. “Well, it certainly was an excellent party for my dear Bastian. My son is quite taken with you, Elisabeth. He’s been going on about you all morning.” Angelique ran a thin finger along her decolletage, tucking the pristine lace handkerchief around her neck into the top of her dress.
“Your son is a kind man, madame . . . Your Grace.”
A kind man, did I actually say that?
“You are sweet, child. Ah, and your eyes.” Angelique stopped fussing with her handkerchief and gazed into Scarlet’s face as if she had just noticed the intensity of
color her eyes possessed. “No wonder Bastian was enraptured with you. Men have been known to walk the world and brave fierce tribulations for as much. I wish you and my son a happy future together.”
What? Has she already married us off?
Scarlet couldn’t help but feel as if she’d missed something. “Well, you do understand that I’ll be leaving soon. I’m to spend the summer with my uncle.” At least I hope so, she thought. What the hell am I going to do when the time finally comes to go to Uncle Vincent’s house?
“Leaving.” His mother bent and plucked a purple iris from her basket. “Yes, soon, and you two will be happy together.”
“Mother, I’ve brought you some lemonade, nice and tart, the way you like it.” Sebastian handed them each a glass.
Scarlet took a sip. Oh, he was right, it was sour. She puckered her lips and held her glass to Sebastian.
“Ha, she needs to toughen up a little, eh, mere. She cannot handle the infamous de la Corte lemonade.”
“Bastian,” Angelique scolded him. “It is a bit tart.” She turned and spoke to Scarlet. “He’s always watching over my shoulder while I’m cooking. Thinks he can create my recipes as well as I.” She sipped the hazy yellow liquid, the corners of her mouth tightening at its tartness. “Someday, my love. Keep it up.”
Giving them both a shy nod Sebastian gestured to Scarlet. “I’m sorry. Here, I’ll drink yours.” He took her glass and downed the sour liquid. “So, did you two have a nice talk?”
“A lovely young girl, Bastian.” Angelique stood, dangling her basket near the folds of her skirt. “You have my blessing.”
With a kiss to both his cheeks, and a whispered 'such lovely eyes,’ she walked back toward the garden, turning once to wave at the two of them.
Waving back, Scarlet then asked, “What did she mean, Sebastian, that you have her blessing?”
“She thinks that her precious Bastian has finally found a wife, that’s what she means,” a strangely languid voice said.
Scarlet turned to see two young men walk up behind them. One was tall and gangly, dressed in blue brocade with silver stitching, and the other, the one with the lush voice, was equally tall with wavy blond hair and thick white lace ruffles around his wrists and neck.
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