So many unanswered questions, not to mention the repercussions of his actions at the games. The longer he could keep her away from those, the better, as far as he was concerned. Good enough reason to keep her close. Yes, that was the only reason, not the way his chest tightened and he swallowed past the lump in his throat when he imagined her not knowing him.
He held her until the first rays of sunshine streaked across the horizon. A thin strip reached through the slightly open shutters and slowly crept up the bed. He would have to move before it reached his arm. As well fed as he was, burns hurt like the motherfucker.
A discreet knock on the door coincided with that very moment he shifted away from his sweetly sleeping angel. Having made sure her translucent skin was covered up by the sheets, he padded across to the door and yanked it open.
Joseph wordlessly handed him his robe to shrug into and stepped out of his way when Atlan shut the door behind him.
“Usual procedure, sir?” he asked.
“No, she’s staying.” Only a slight quiver of his old retainer’s bushy eyebrows registered his surprise at Atlan’s curt command. He knew he ought to explain himself, but exhaustion was already pulling him under, the rising sun sapping his energy.
“She’ll need a good breakfast, and I…damn it.” He stumbled and Joseph put his arms around his waist to steady him.
“It will be done. You need to rest now.”
With his butler’s help, Atlan managed to cross the hallway and get to his room before he fell face down on his bed and was no more.
* * * *
It was the delicious smell of coffee Evie registered first, followed by the clink of china, and then the sound of curtains being pulled back. Sunlight streamed into the room, and Evie blinked in confusion.
“Ah, you’re awake, good. I didn’t mean to wake you, but it’s coming up to midday now and the master did say you needed a good breakfast.” The silver-haired, rotund little lady who had pulled the heavy curtains off the long windows smiled down on Evie. Belatedly she made a grab for the covers, only to find that she was wearing some form of silk nightgown.
What in all that was holy was going on?
“I’m Agnes, by the way, but only the master calls me that. Aggie will do.”
Evie knew she ought to say or do something, and she opened her mouth to do so, but nothing came out. Fortunately, this Aggie didn’t seem to mind Evie’s complete inability to formulate a reply. She simply smiled, rounded the huge bed Evie was in, and handed her a large glass of orange juice and several little pills.
“First things first. You must be sore, so these are some painkillers and some iron tablets to help you feel better.”
Her smile slipped a little when Evie didn’t take them and pulled her knees up to her chest instead. She winced at the resulting ache in her nether regions, and Aggie clucked her tongue and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, you poor thing. You are sore, aren’t you? I have just the remedy. Take those and I’ll run you a nice bath. You’ll feel lots better after a good old long soak, you’ll see.”
When Evie still didn’t respond, Aggie sighed and put the glass and pills back on the tray.
“If you won’t take those, at least have something to eat.” She lifted the cover off the plate she’d also brought in, and Evie’s mouth watered at the sight of the fluffy omelet.
“Got some nice big bits of bacon in there to get your strength back up.” Aggie paused and assessed her. “You’re not vegetarian, are you?”
When Evie shook her head, the older woman smiled.
“Good, good. I’ll run you that bath now. Eat something. You’re as white as a sheet, and the master will have my guts for garters if he sees you like that.”
Evie jerked back, and Aggie slapped her hand on her forehead.
“Oh me and my big mouth. It’s just a figure of speech, my dear. The master would never, that is…” She patted Evie’s arm and sighed. “He’s a good man, you’ll see. We wouldn’t be working for him if he wasn’t.”
She got up to leave, and Evie finally found her voice.
“How long?”
Aggie swung back around again, crossed her arms under the starched fabric of the big white apron she wore over her dress, and smiled.
“How long have we been working for the master?” she asked.
“We?” Evie croaked the question, grabbed hold of the glass of orange juice, and gulped half of it down in one go. It soothed her parched throat, and Aggie handed her those pills again.
“Yes, my husband and I. We’ve worked for the master for the last forty years.”
Evie was so stunned by that revelation that she took the medication without further thought and swigged down the rest of the freshly squeezed orange juice.
Aggie nodded her approval and then proceeded to pour her a cup of coffee from the flask which also sat on the breakfast tray.
“Cream, sugar?” she asked.
“No, black is fine, thanks.” Evie murmured her reply, wrapped her hands around the china mug, and inhaled deeply of the fragrant brew before she took a sip.
“Better?” Aggie asked, and Evie couldn’t help but smile back at her. There was something very likable, motherly even, about this woman. Besides, had she wanted to do her harm, she needn’t have gone to all this trouble, so it was fair to assume that Aggie was just what she said she was. Atlan’s housekeeper, from what Evie could gather.
“That is a really long time,” she said, having taken another few sips. The caffeine started to hit her system, and some of her lethargy lifted.
Aggie smiled, lifted up the tray, which had little legs attached to it, and put it over Evie’s lap.
“In human terms, maybe, but not for the master. Besides, my father did it before me, his father before him, and so on. It’s something of a family tradition you could say. I grew up here in the kitchens, and I never considered leaving. My Joseph did, too. He was just a scrap of a boy when the master found him. My parents took him in, raised him as one of his own, and when I got old enough…well…”
Red stained Aggie’s cheekbones and Evie giggled. There was something very endearing about that.
“Joseph is your husband, I take it?” she asked.
Aggie smiled and nodded.
“Yes, and the love of my life. Funny, really how things work out. If the master hadn’t found him when he did…well…” She frowned and stared off into the distance. “He wouldn’t have survived another night out there on the streets. It was one of the harshest winters we’d ever had, and my poor Joseph was living on the streets. He’d gotten into a fight with some other street boys. They’d nicked what little money he’d made begging that day, and were kicking the bejesus out of him.” She smiled grimly at Evie’s sharp intake of breath. “Anyway, the master intervened and the rest is beautiful history as they say.”
She busied herself refilling Evie’s mug and clucked her approval when she started eating. Evie couldn’t help but moan her approval as a myriad of flavors exploded on her tongue at first taste.
“Good, huh? It was my mother’s recipe. Nothing like a tasty omelet to bring some color back in your cheeks. That’s what she always used to say in these circumstances.”
The mouthful of food she’s just taken turned to sawdust in her mouth, and Evie swallowed hard.
“I guess this is a regular occurrence then?” Aggie frowned at that question, and Evie hurried on. “Guess it would draw too much attention to him, if his women passed out the minute they leave here, so, let me guess, you feed us up, and then send us on our merry way?”
Aggie blinked twice, put her hands on her hips, and positively glared at Evie. It was a look designed to make her squirm, one she hadn’t been on the receiving end of since she was little and always in dear Mama’s bad books.
That thought made Evie blink away unexpected tears—nowadays Mama was too busy cruising the world with her much younger lover to take any notice of Evie’s misfortunes—and she angrily swiped away
the useless moisture threatening to run down her face. Really, what was wrong with her? She was a big girl now, and she was happy for Mama, sort of. Her stepfather could go to hell though. Evie and he had taken an instant dislike to each other, which had only grown over the last five years he’d been around.
That was okay, though. She didn’t need to like him, and he did make her mother happy. Evie dropped her gaze to the flowery bedspread, struck once again how feminine this room looked. Decorated in soft, muted colors, it had an airy, welcoming feel to it. The furniture in here was as antique as the other room had been. There was a huge dressing table by the large French windows, its surface littered with little crystal vials, which no doubt held a myriad of scents, lotions, and potions. A large silver-handled hairbrush and matching mirror caught her attention, and Evie couldn’t help but wonder whose room this was or had been.
Aggie’s antagonistic stance softened somewhat when she seemed to notice Evie’s distress. The older woman sat back down on the bed and reached out to take Evie’s clammy hand in hers.
“There now, this isn’t what you think. For starters, the master doesn’t do this.” She gestured around the room with her free hand. “No one has been in this room for years. I keep it tidy, always hoping that someday he’ll find a woman he feels worthy to stay in here, but you’re the first in a very, very long time.”
Evie couldn’t help her snort in response. She yanked her hand out of Aggie’s, and the other woman sighed.
“Fine, you don’t have to believe me. Rest assured that you still being here is very much not the norm for the master.” She paused and waited and, when Evie looked at her, smiled. “He’s resting now, so can’t explain himself, but he will when night falls. Until then, feel free to roam the house and the grounds if you like.” She stood up and pointed toward a set of wardrobes taking up an entire wall of the room. The oak gleamed in the sunlight streaming in.
“There is an assortment of clothes in there in various sizes and styles. I’m sure you’ll find something to wear that fits. And don’t worry, none of them have been worn before. Not the modern garments anyway. I’ll go and run that bath for you.”
With that, she disappeared through the door at the other end of the long room. Seconds later the sounds of running water could be heard, and Evie sighed.
Clearly, her response had pissed Aggie off, but that couldn’t be helped. Besides, she had to be full of bullshit. Atlan was clearly a regular at the games, and her being the first to stay…yeah, that couldn’t be right. Her stomach chose that moment to remind her that she was hungry, and by the time she’d tucked into the food and finished her coffee, Aggie reappeared out of the adjacent bathroom. She took the tray from her with a tight smile.
“Your bath awaits, and I’ve got things to attend to.”
“Thank you, Aggie.”
That earned her a slightly less frosty smile, and Evie breathed a sigh of relief when the other woman left her on her own. Her sore muscles protested when she climbed out of the high bed and padded over to the French windows. It took a little bit of wrangling, but they eventually opened onto a tiny balustrade, which overlooked an overgrown garden. High walls fenced the property, and Evie took in a deep breath of fresh air. If she had to guess, they weren’t in London anymore, but somewhere in the countryside, close to the sea, maybe? There was certain saltiness in the air, and a quiet stillness, devoid of the hustle and bustle of traffic. Chimney tops in the distance spoke of other houses around, but Atlan clearly had no immediate neighbors. Then again, he wouldn’t want any, would he?
Rolling her eyes at her thought processes, she stepped back and across the room to fling open the door to those wardrobes.
A gasp escaped her lips because Aggie had not been kidding. There in their protective covers hung a myriad of dresses, going back at least a hundred years, if not more. Evie pulled out one after the other and shook her head at the luxury of them.
The period costumes, in particular, would fetch a fortune at an auction. Most of the contents in this room would, as a matter of fact. The last set of doors showed modern clothes as promised. Evie pulled out a pretty sundress and flung it on the bed. The big chest of drawers at the bottom of the bed held an assortment of women’s lingerie. Again she marveled at the old-fashioned corsets preserved in tissue paper, and she whistled through her teeth at the newest Victoria Secrets ones. Having pulled out a beautiful, lacy set of French knickers, she threw them on the bed, too. Sadly, no bras that would fit her, but the spaghetti straps on that dress wouldn’t work with a bra anyway.
She got another pleasant surprise when she stepped into the adjacent bathroom. The old-fashioned claw-footed bathtub that stood in the middle of the room had been filled to the brim with fragrant bubbles. A fresh toothbrush and unopened toothpaste stood on the sink, and Evie eagerly used them. The urgent demands of her bladder required taking care of next, and then she sunk into the huge bathtub with a deep sigh of contentment. This was indeed just what she needed, and while the water stung her sensitive parts at first, it soon soothed them.
Evie stayed in the comforting cocoon until the water cooled, and having availed herself of the various lotions and potions she found, and suitably covered in the maxi dress, she went to explore.
Her bare feet should have felt cold on the oak flooring of the landing, but the weathered wood felt warm. Maybe Atlan had under-floor heating. There certainly weren’t any radiators in sight, and the house brought forth one surprise after the other.
Nothing could have prepared her for the art studio, however. Situated at the end of the stairs, right at the top of the house, the room afforded brilliant views over the surrounding countryside, once she’d figured out how to open the shutters. Far more astonishing, however, had been the various oil paintings carrying the very distinctive signature of Atlan St. James.
Evie traced the ridges of the brooding depiction of the Yorkshire moors in awe. She’d studied the renowned artist in college, had a print calendar of his paintings hanging on her bedroom wall in fact, and here she was facing the original.
Her legs gave way, and she sank to the floor when the truth dawned on her. Atlan had to be Atlan St. James, the reclusive artist, whose paintings sold for obscene amounts of money. Believed to be in his nineties now, his rare exhibitions were always sold out, and no one had ever seen him in person. It all added to the mystery surrounding the man.
A discreet cough from behind her made her look over her shoulder.
The aged butler frowned, his bushy eyebrows and mustache as gray as the full head of hair he still had, despite his advanced years. He moved his head with just the right amount of incline to show his respect.
“Aggie has served afternoon tea in the conservatory if you’d be willing to partake. If I might say so myself, the homemade scones are excellent, especially served with the jam sourced from the gardens.”
He stepped sideways to indicate for her to follow, and after a moment’s hesitation, Evie did so.
“Tell me, you’re Joseph, right, Aggie’s husband?” she asked as they descended down the wide arched staircase. More of Atlan St. James’s pictures graced the walls as well as priceless originals of the great masters. Her head was spinning at the wealth those pictures represented.
“That would be correct, my lady,” Joseph replied. Evie winced at the formal address and putting her hand on his arm halted their progress down the stairs.
“Please, call me Evie. I’m no lady.”
Joseph’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he shook his head.
“Very well, I will call you Evie, if you prefer, my lady. Shall we?”
He started moving again, and Evie thought it wisest to simply follow.
“Tell me, Atlan is Atlan St. James, isn’t he?”
Joseph missed a step but caught himself quickly.
“As to that, I couldn’t possibly confirm or deny. May I suggest that you direct any questions of a personal nature to the master when he arises from his sleep?”
“Where is he right now?” she asked.
Joseph pulled himself up to his full height and glared down his long pointed nose at her.
“For very obvious reasons, I am not going to answer that.”
Suitably chastised, Evie followed him until they reached the conservatory. A myriad of scents assaulted her the minute they entered the bright, sunny room, and she gasped at the multitude of flowers which grew everywhere. A small table and chairs had been set up at one end close to the open doors, and Evie dutifully sat down when Joseph pulled out one of the chairs for her.
“Enjoy your tea, Evie. I took the liberty to arrange some reading material for you.” Sure enough, a small stack of books and magazines sat on a nest of chairs by a big potted fern. A small old-fashioned bell sat next to it.
“Please ring if you require anything else. I will provide it for you. I would strongly suggest that you do not roam the grounds unescorted.”
Evie heard the warning in that loud and clear.
“Aggie said I could.”
Joseph inclined his head and fixed his steel-gray eyes on her.
“My wife is a hopeless romantic, who is reading far too much into the fact that the master has let you stay here. I, on the other hand, am a realist and my first concern is for the master’s safety.”
“I would never…I mean…I wouldn’t even know how…” Evie floundered in her response and to save face picked up a scone. “I just wouldn’t, okay, and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll stay here. I wouldn’t know where to go anyway, and where is here, exactly?”
Joseph simply smiled and Evie sighed.
“Forget I asked. You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
At his nod, she rolled her eyes, and Joseph turned to walk away.
“Is it really that unusual for me to stay here?” she asked his departing back. A slight tightening of his shoulders was her only reply, but it was enough.
Sold [The Vampire Games 1] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 5