“Doctor’s orders, miss. He thinks you’re mighty pale, and I have to agree. Now eat up so I don’t have to worry about you.”
Arden saw that the woman was trying to help, and it felt nice to have someone mother her. Since her mother died, she hadn’t had anyone really take care of her. She’d done all the taking care of her father, especially at the end of his life, so Mrs. Jandry’s fussing over her was a welcome change.
“All right, I promise to eat. Thank you.”
As the cook turned to leave, she said, “The master has been concerned about you and wants to see you.”
“He was worried?”
“Sure he was. He arranged for the doctor.”
Arden felt guilty that she hadn’t recognized Brandon would be kind enough to call for help. “Oh, then please ask him to come in.”
Almost immediately, butterflies began their dance in her stomach. Brandon would be in her bedroom alone with her. Everything she’d dreamed about him had taken place in that very room!
Pulling the covers up, she straightened herself and prayed to God what she’d thought about him wasn’t written all over her face. He gently knocked at the door and waited for her to allow him entrance. When he did come in, he looked somber, and Arden worried he was unhappy with her.
“The doctor says you’ll be fine in no time. How do you feel?”
She felt like a nervous wreck, not because of any sickness but because of him. Standing there next to her bed and staring down at her with those eyes that so often appeared to be searching for something in hers, he made her think of the fantasies her mind had been dreaming up every night. If he knew what she’d thought, he’d think her no better than the women of the streets she’d lived among for the past month.
She felt her cheeks become hot as she tried to answer. “I’m sorry to be such a bother. I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m usually very healthy. I don’t know why I feel so weak.”
Brandon spied the tray of food Mrs. Jandry had left next to the bed. Picking it up, he sat down on the bed next to Arden and placed the tray on his lap. After he’d cut a piece of steak for her, she saw that he seemed intent on feeding her again.
“You don’t have to feed me. I’m not too weak to pick up a fork,” she joked.
In a low voice that touched her deep inside, he said, “I don’t have to do anything. I want to. Indulge me. It would make me feel better since I’m responsible.”
In between bites, she asked, “How could you be responsible?”
He stopped as he stabbed a fork into a piece of meat and looked intently at her. “Arden, I am the master of this house. Everything is ultimately my responsibility.” And then, after what seemed like hours of him staring at her with those deep brown eyes, he added, “Especially you.”
Arden wondered why he was being so attentive. He’d proven himself to be kind with his first gesture to her that night he saved her, but since then he’d been erratic in his ways, to say the least. After she finished eating and drinking some wine, which only served to make her feel more lightheaded, she thought he’d leave. Instead, after placing the tray outside the door, he returned to his seat beside her on the bed.
Now he was even closer and with the loss of the tray, there seemed to be no barrier between them.
“Brandon, I think I should rest,” she said anxiously.
“Very well. However, I intend on sitting here while you do.”
Arden knew he saw the shock on her face. What if she had a dream like the ones she’d had each night? What if she talked in her sleep and he found out what fantasies she had of him? He seemed to sense her unease and attempted to casually explain, “I need to take care of you. I can’t afford to lose another maid.”
Arden laid her head down on the pillow and closed her eyes for a moment before she turned back toward him. “What happened to your last maid?”
Hesitating, he finally answered, “She left for personal reasons.”
Personal reasons? What does that mean?
As she drifted off to sleep, Arden wondered if the previous maid had gotten this kind of treatment from him. And if she had, why did she leave?
***
Brandon watched as she slept quietly, her face the picture of innocence. He knew what was happening, even if he didn’t want to admit it. His nightly visits to Arden’s bedroom were weakening her, and if he didn’t turn her soon, she’d die. He’d thought he’d have more time, but understood now he had a choice to make—turn her into a being like himself or turn her away and let her live out her mortal life.
He found he could do neither. Nothing would make him happier than to have a companion to spend the rest of his years with, but was that his choice to make for her? Being a vampire was as much a cross to bear as a blessing. Would she ever be able to forgive him even if she did love him? None of the others had.
The alternative was even worse. In just the short time she’d been in his life, she’d brought something back that he’d been without for so long. Now each evening when he awoke, he had something—no, someone—to look forward to. And while he loved every moment he spent making love to her, it wasn’t merely that he looked forward to since he could get that anywhere in London or any other place, for that matter. No, the kindness he experienced with her made waking worthwhile now. He felt hollow at the thought of being without her and all the things she made him feel again.
The fear of her never understanding, never forgiving him for taking her life and replacing it with one of his choosing made the choice painful for him. He knew from experience with her predecessors that what he offered may not be what a young, beautiful woman wanted. To be attached forever to a man who’d seen two hundred years of life pass by was likely not a choice Arden would make either.
Gently, he stroked her hair, accepting what he would do in the end, but he feared losing the one person he’d grown to love in more years than he cared to remember. As he watched her sleep, a tiny smile formed on her lips at his touch. Could he go through with the choice he’d decided to make? The constant loneliness of his life could be ended with just one simple action. No more roaming the night in search of blood and the small moments of closeness that accompanied his feeding from humans. He could have the blood of one he sired, as it was supposed to be, instead of unknown humans, whose blood could never sustain him as well as the blood of one of his own, or Vasilije, whose feedings always came with strings attached.
He wanted to believe she’d accept him—not run from him in fear and hatred—and finally give him what he’d hoped so long for. Had he finally found someone to be a companion?
Even now, however, as he looked at her innocently sleeping, he felt the overwhelming desire to drink from her. Just as in the past, his demons pressed against him, the monster barely contained beneath the veneer of a well-to-do Londoner.
He ran his tongue over his fangs and closed his eyes as the rush of desire raced through him. His body ached from the need she created in him. Reaching out to touch her face, his hand brushed her cheek and she leaned into it, looking for the kindness in her sleep she’d seen earlier from him. As her warm skin pressed against his, he knew that man held only a tenuous hold over the vampire he truly was.
The doctor had warned that she couldn’t handle much more of whatever was attacking her system, and even in his ignorance he’d stumbled upon the reality Brandon knew he must accept. He would have to turn her within the next few nights or cease feeding from her. And that he could not do. What he received from her blood each time he fed from her provided him more than sustenance, more than survival, and he couldn’t force himself to let that go.
Brandon quietly slipped out of Arden’s room and returned to his study. With everything on his mind, he poured himself a glass of port and tried to lose himself in the effect of the alcohol. As each sip slid down his throat, he sought some measure of escape from the choice he knew he’d make.
“As someone who’s been a vampire for so long, you should know the alcohol never works lik
e it did when you were human.”
Startled, Brandon turned to see his sire standing in the doorway. “Vasilije, what are you doing here?”
“Whatever could be the matter with my Brandon?”
As he spoke, Vasilije glided across the room toward the man he’d turned so many years earlier. Brandon watched him push his long black hair from his face to reveal the beautiful features his sire had possessed for as long as he’d known him. Crystal blue eyes stared into his as he struggled to look away.
Vasilije stopped within a foot of Brandon and reached his pale fingers out to touch his face. “What is it that makes you want to drown yourself in this ineffective poison?”
Brandon turned away to escape his touch and moved to the chair behind his desk, hoping to put some distance between him and his visitor. The last thing he wanted was for Vasilije to know anything about Arden.
With the desk in front of him, he felt his control begin to build. “Why are you here, Vasilije?”
His sire sat down in a leather chair across from the desk and tilted his head back, eyeing the ceiling. “I’m bored, dear Brandon. London is so dreadfully boring this time of year.” Vasilije lowered his gaze to meet Brandon’s. “I crave excitement.”
“I’m the last person you should call on if you seek excitement. Wasn't it just last week that you said I was boring?”
“Was that last week? God, time creeps by these days. I thought you might have some idea how I might entertain myself,” Vasilije said leaning forward. “Anything new?”
Brandon prayed to God he hadn’t heard anything of Arden. “Nothing that would interest you. Household staff changes, a minor loss in a business deal...”
“Good God, Brandon! You are the dullest vampire I know. What happened to that interesting young man I turned all those years ago?”
“He lived too many years and matured.”
Flinging himself back in his seat, Vasilije waved away Brandon’s words. “Do you remember the times we had, just the two of us, right after I sired you? Oh, how many of those zealous Puritan believers did we have? I miss those days.”
“I don’t. I was never as entertained by that as you.”
Vasilije stood, his face twisted in disgust. “You really are quite suited to the repressed times of Victoria, aren’t you?”
“You can go anywhere you want. If London is so boring, why not go somewhere else?” Immediately, before you find out about Arden.
Walking away, the older vampire said, “I think I just might, my dear Brandon. I won’t bother extending an offer for you to join me as I can see you’re supremely content drinking to your happiness.”
Brandon smiled, hoping the visit had ended. “Goodbye, Vasilije.”
Turning to face him, Vasilije returned the smile. “Never goodbye. And remember, I’ll be around if you have any need to visit me.”
As the front door closed, Brandon breathed a heavy sigh. He knew exactly what Vasilije had referred to. He knew about Arden, or at least knew he had met someone he would request to sire. Since as his sire Vasilije had the power to approve or deny his choice of Arden as one he wanted as his own, Brandon knew this visit was more a reminder of the rules of their world than a friendly call.
He also knew he wouldn’t be able to put off his own visit to Vasilije much longer.
Chapter Six
Arden awoke on her own the next morning feeling much better. She hadn’t had any dreams of Brandon, a fact she realized with disappointment, and for the first time in days had enjoyed a restful sleep. She looked around the room unhappy not to see him still sitting on the bed next to her. It was probably too much to expect anyone to stay for twelve hours, but she wished he had.
She had a vague memory of waking during the night to see him watching her, his eyes as always appearing as if they were searching her face for some answer. His face had been a mixture of worry and caring as he smiled to comfort her. As she replayed the memory in her mind, she heard no words, but had the sense that she was safe in his care.
Squeezing the sheets in her hands, she relished the sense of security she felt in his house. In addition to having a home again, the events of the day before had shown her she had people who cared about her. Even Mrs. Benson had been uncharacteristically kind in response to her sickness. Most of all, Brandon’s show of concern had convinced her that she could feel safe in her new home.
Once downstairs, Arden began her tasks as if nothing had happened the day before, hoping the entire episode could be forgotten. She’d often found in her short life that the best way to handle the difficulties life handed a person was to return to everyday activities as soon as possible instead of wallowing in those problems. It comforted her to know that the people around her cared, though.
Even though she knew Brandon’s schedule by now, she’d secretly hoped he would come to see her when she began her day. While she straightened the mess he’d made in his study, she ran her fingers over the blotter stained with splotches of ink on his desk. She imagined him sitting in his heavy wooden chair, hunched over his desk as he wrote to another like him of weighty matters powerful men dealt with.
Arden tentatively placed herself in his seat and closed her eyes. Everything around her felt like him—dark and seductive. She ran her hands over the arms of the chair, feeling the smoothness of the polished wood against her palms.
A noise outside the door startled her, and she leapt out of his chair before anyone witnessed her inappropriate behavior. Hurriedly, she cleaned the room and left to return to the kitchen where she found Mrs. Jandry busy with her duties.
As she sat down at the table, she watched the cook, wondering how long she’d been with Brandon. “Mrs. Jandry, what is Mr. Ridley having tonight?”
While the cook detailed the menu for the evening, Arden waited patiently to move on to more interesting matters. When she’d finally finished explaining the dishes she was to prepare for him, Arden waited a moment and then asked, “How long have you served Mr. Ridley?”
The older woman spoke freely like she had never done before to Arden. As she listened, she hoped to hear something that would help her to know more about Brandon.
“I have been with the master for longer than I can believe. Is it possible I’ve been with him for twenty years? Yes, yes, it would be as poor Mr. Jandry has been gone as long.”
The cook trailed off into a description of the disease that had taken her late husband. As she half listened, Arden questioned how old Brandon could be. How old had he been when Mrs. Jandry began as his cook? He looked within a few years of her own age, but twenty years as the master of the house would put him at decades older.
“Twenty years? So you were the cook to the senior Mr. Ridley?”
“No. Just the master,” she answered as she chopped raw vegetables to dump into the broth she’d been simmering.
Arden’s mind worked to figure out the puzzle of Brandon’s age. Twenty years as the master of the house yet as youthful in appearance as one born then?
Her brain switching gears, she asked, “Mrs. Jandry, what became of the previous maid?”
Within seconds, the cook’s affable disposition had iced over, her body stiffening as she stopped her chopping and then continued moments later.
“She left for personal reasons, miss.”
Arden understood by her tone that she’d get no more about this from Mrs. Jandry, though she remained sure there was something to know about why her predecessor had left. Her question had effectively ended any conversation, so Arden kept her suspicions for another time and went about her business making sure everything was ready for Brandon’s return.
When Mrs. Jandry began preparing his dinner tray, Arden knew he’d come home. Tray in hand, she entered his study, eager to see him. As she’d grown used to, he sat at his desk absorbed in his work, but this night the moment he saw her, he rose from his chair to take his dinner from her.
“Let me help you. Are you feeling better?”
His concern touche
d her, and she smiled shyly. “Thank you, sir. Yes, I’m fine now.”
As he placed his dinner on the table, he shot her a look of disapproval. “What did we agree you’d call me?”
Arden felt her cheeks warm. “Brandon. I’m sorry, sir...Brandon.”
The smile that greeted her made her insides melt. Obviously pleased, his gaze remained on her face, and she hoped he would repeat his offer to enjoy his dinner with her.
“I hope the doctor’s remedies have made a difference. I see the color has returned to your cheeks.”
Arden watched as he returned to his chair and began to eat. Crestfallen, she waited for him to excuse her.
“Yes, I feel much better today.”
Silently, he dipped his spoon into his soup and brought it to his mouth. As he began to enjoy his dinner, he looked up to see her waiting for his next command.
“Thank you, Arden. Is there anything you need?”
Wishing she could tell him she wanted to stay, to enjoy his company, to ask about the maid before her, she merely shook her head and smiled.
“Then perhaps you would help me with something I need,” he said looking up at her.
Before a more subdued answer came to her, she exclaimed, “Anything!”
“Sit with me then and keep me company. I find I need companionship, and I can’t imagine anyone I’d like to spend time with more.”
Arden knew her face showed how thrilled she was to be spending time with him again, but she felt no embarrassment. If anything, he seemed uncharacteristically shy himself for a moment. However, with a smile from him it passed and they began what she hoped would be an everyday ritual.
As they ate, they talked about her improving health and Mrs. Benson’s surprising change toward her, and Arden chuckled at his almost juvenile mocking of his housekeeper. She saw her laughter had caused him to stop talking, but before she could apologize for her improper behavior, he confessed, “I love to hear you laugh.”
Vampire Dreams Revamped (A Sons of Navarus Prequel) Page 5