Masque of Desire

by Amy Ruttan

  Miranda put her face in her hands and began to cry as all the memories came flooding back to her. She felt Deanna’s arm go around her shoulders.

  “Miranda, oh my god, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Dee. I’m fine.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I met a man and I’m in love.”

  Deanna looked surprised. “Miranda, I was only kidding about letting loose. What happened, did someone hurt you?” she asked, concerned.

  “No, nothing is wrong.” She finished off her coffee. “I have to go…back to Violet Hall. I have some work I have to finish off before the big meeting on Monday.”

  Chapter Four

  After showering and making herself more presentable she hopped into her PT Cruiser and pushed the speed limit across the city, making her way out to Violet Hall.

  What was she going to say to him? Had it really happened, or was this some sort of wild dream that she believed to be true?

  “It’s real, it has to be,” she told herself as she turned her car up the gravel drive of Violet Hall. The memories she had, she didn’t just imagine them. They had to be real.

  It looked so different in the daylight. It didn’t look as magical as it had the night before. In the daylight it looked like an old home that was being restored. Teams of restoration crews were out and about today and the remnants of last night’s party were being carried away by the party planner.

  She parked her car and then realized that she had parked where the crypt should have been.

  Where had it gone, where did it go? How could a large stone mausoleum disappear?

  She turned around and scanned the grounds and bumped smack into the man that had posed as the doorman last night.

  “Ah, Ms. Carter, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. I have some papers for Mr. Valquet to sign, legal stuff.” She brandished a small black portfolio in his face.

  “Of course, he’s in the study,” the man said. “Have a nice day, Ms. Carter.”

  He turned to leave and she grabbed his arm. “Wait, remember last night, the myth about the crypt.”

  He looked at her, confused. “Crypt?”

  “Yes, last night, when I arrived. You told me about the crypt and the curse of Violet Hall.”

  The man looked at her as if she was crazy. “There’s no curse of Violet Hall, nor has there been any crypt on this property.”

  “But…I don’t understand.”

  “Violet Hall has been in the Valquet family since it was built.”

  “No, Mr. Valquet purchased it. I helped arrange the transaction. I helped him arrange the restoration.”

  “Purchase, no, Ms. Carter. You’re his fiancée.”

  “Pardon?” Miranda choked. She looked down at her portfolio. “Then what are these papers for?”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t know, Ms. Carter. You are Monsieur Valquet’s lawyer, that’s how you met.”

  Miranda let him go with an uncertain nod. The man waved and continued on his way. She looked back over her shoulder at the house. What is going on? Am I losing my mind?

  “Mira,” came a small voice from behind her. She turned and saw a small old lady behind her. She was dressed all in black, her dark brown eyes were very familiar to her. Then she knew it was the woman she had spied the night before. The gypsy woman in the trees.

  “Do I…do I know you?” she asked.

  “Walk with me.” The old lady headed off toward the back of the plantation to a gazebo in the midst of a beautiful garden. Miranda followed her until they reached the gazebo. The old woman sat down on a bench and patted the seat next to her. Miranda sat down.

  “Who are you?” she asked the old woman.

  “I am your grandmother. I am the one that put the curse on Alek, so that he could live to wait for you.”

  “My grandmother?” Mira asked, confused. She ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Well, only an echo of the past,” the old woman said, patting her hand. “The curse of Violet Hall has been broken. No one will remember what transpired in the past, only you and Alek will remember.”

  Miranda felt her eyes well up. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. It was real, all of it was real.

  “Now Alek is mortal. He will age and grow old and eventually die but all the past wrongs that his wife did to your innocent soul and your son’s innocent soul have been righted.”

  “My son?” Miranda asked.

  “That will come with time. All that was broken has been made whole again.” The old woman smiled and patted her hand again. “I am so glad that you have returned from limbo, that you’re home and safe. Now go to Alek. He is waiting for you.”

  Miranda embraced the small old woman. “Thank you, Grandmother. Thank you.”

  She got up and ran down the path toward the open French doors. She turned around to thank her grandmother once more but she was gone.

  Miranda thanked her silently again and made her way inside. Through the French doors she found herself in Violet Hall’s study. At the desk, in a pair of khaki pants and white linen shirt, with his back to her, was Alek.

  She whispered his name and he slowly turned. Her pulse quickened as their eyes locked from across the room. Those green eyes she remembered all too clearly, those eyes that had been glazed over in passion behind his mask. She knew those eyes.

  He held out his arms, wide open and she flung herself into them. Their mouths met and she remembered the kiss that she had tasted many times last night.

  He said nothing to her. He scooped her up in his strong arms and carried her out into the hall, up the stairs toward the room that they had shared last night.

  She giggled to herself when she saw the remains of the silken bonds from the night before still strewn across the sheets.

  “All these servants, monsieur, and you can’t even make your bed.”

  He laughed out loud before kissing her quickly. “I wanted to make sure that you remembered last night. I was concerned that your rational, logical mind would convince your heart that this could not be true.”

  “I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t true. Believe me, for a while I thought that if I believed that you were over two hundred years old and that I have been in limbo for that length that I would be losing my mind.” She kissed him quickly as he pulled her T-shirt over her head and then removed her bra. He began to suckle her nipples. “Maybe I am a bit crazy,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.

  “I am crazy, I am crazy for you. I’ve been waiting for so long. I had not been with another woman for over two hundred years. Last night was so hard for me to keep control, ma chere. Being buried deep inside you again was like heaven.”

  “That is a long time to remain celibate, monsieur. It looks like we have some making up to do.”

  He chuckled as he pulled her jeans over her hips and then quickly discarded her underwear.

  “I plan to make up those two hundred and fifty years that we were apart every day and every night,” he said huskily as he unbuttoned his shirt and then pulled down his pants. He covered her body with his. She ran her hands down his back.

  “And what if I am giving birth, surely I will get some respite on that night.”

  “Of course, but that means we will have to make up doubly for it the next night.”

  Miranda giggled as he began to nibble on her neck. “I don’t think I will ever get tired of this.” Miranda sighed as she felt Alek sink deep inside her.

  “You better not,” he whispered in her ear. “I won’t let you.”

  Their talking ceased as they greeted each other properly, not once but twice. Afterward, Miranda lay in his arms.

  “How did you know?” she asked dreamily.

  “I knew that I would find you again. My heart knew you as soon as I saw you. I knew that you would remember, I just had to make your heart remember who you were.”

  “And you knew that I would remember.”

  “Of course I knew you would remember
. I saw your soul and I saw your face and eyes. Your memories were buried deep inside you, I knew you would remember. If I believed that you would not then what would I have to live for? Living without you for so long has been a curse. Like a living hell.”

  “So, you found me and devised an elaborate masquerade to make me remember my past.”

  “Oui and it worked, did it not?” he asked, nibbling her ear. “You’re here in my bed and in a month we’ll be married.”

  “Such an elaborate scheme to trap me into marriage, monsieur,” Miranda teased. “Are you sure it was worth it?”

  “It was worth it,” he said.

  “You were so sure I would fall for it and fall into your arms.”

  “It was clear that you wanted me. I could see it through your mask, you wore a mask of desire.”

  Miranda silenced him by kissing him and never letting him go.

  About the Author

  Amy discovered her love of the written word when she realized that she could no longer act out the fantastical romances in her head with her dolls. Writing about delicious heroes was much more fun than playing with plastic men dolls with the inevitable flesh-colored “tighty whities”.

  She loves history, the paranormal, and will spew out historical facts like a volcano, much to her dearest hubby’s chagrin.

  When she’s not thinking about the next sensual romp, she’s chasing after two rug rats and reading anything spicy that she can get her hands on.

  Amy welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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