by Auburn Seal
How could he do that to her? How could he behave so terribly? Dukes did not just go around drinking blood from any pretty stranger that passed by. How had he lost so much control of himself? True, she was beautiful. And her scent was the loveliest smell he had ever encountered. And she was the woman from his dreams, but that was no excuse. He was a Duke. He could control himself. He needed to control himself.
He ran his hands through his hair, willing himself to get control of his passions.
He grumbled to himself as he stomped through the house. “This is your way of gently introducing her to this world? Fool.”
He had heard that love could make an otherwise wise man act ridiculous, but had never believed he was susceptible to such folly. Grace was making him behave imprudently. He would need to devise a way to control himself around her.
“Your Grace?” The butler interrupted his thought. “The mage, Charles Ashbourne, has arrived as you requested. He waits for you in the library.”
“Very well. Thank you.”
He walked into the library and saw the old mage with the friendly eyes warming himself in front of the fire.
“Charles, thank you for coming. I apologize for calling you out in the middle of the night.”
“Of course I would come, dear friend. What has you so troubled tonight that it would pull you from St. Claire’s ball?”
Finally clean of her scent, Philip took a deep breath. He had his wits about him. Finally. His thoughts were clear. He could not afford to lose control like that again. She could not stay. He would help her find her sister and that meant she would leave Kendawyn. It was not what he wanted, but it was what he must do.
“A new arrival. She appeared right in the middle of the ball. She searches for her sister who was evidently injured and kidnapped back in her world. I am attempting to acclimate Grace to our way of things. But she is a stubborn one.”
“Ah,” the wise mage said, understanding. “She is not familiar with our traditions?”
Philip laughed, “That is an understatement.”
His cheek flushed as he confessed to the mage. “I—I tasted her. The magic within her is strong.”
“Hmmm.” The mage looked intrigued. Might you bring her tomorrow night to me? We will run her through the courses and see just how strong she is.”
The Duke nodded. “Of course. She will not rest until she finds her sister. Unless I can change her mind, she is going to want to travel back to her world. If that is the case, then I will need help getting her ready quickly. We do not have time to have her appear before the Council, so she will need to learn how to conjure her own portal. Will you assist me?”
Charles nodded, “Of course, but you do not want her to go.”
It was not a question.
Philip shrugged, not surprised that the mage read his intent.
“It does not matter. I will not keep her here against her will. But, yes, I would like her to stay. There is something…special about her.”
He looked intently at the mage that had offered counsel to his family for generations. “She is the one in my dreams. If she would allow it, I would take her as my wife this very night.”
Miss Armstrong came in immediately upon Philip’s exit from her bedroom. She walked straight to the bureau, which appeared to be well-stocked, and pulled out a nightgown. Jane laid the nightgown on the bed and turned to face Grace. In the moments that Grace had been watching Miss Armstrong, she managed to compose herself. She drew in deep breaths, trying desperately to forget the feel of his lips on hers, his warm strong hands gripping her back, and the hardest of all to forget, the feeling of him drinking from her wrist. And then her neck. She got chills recalling his feather-light lips that brushed along her neck and collar bone.
She realized her fingers were resting on her neck where he’d bitten her and jerked them away. Jane’s eyes traveled to her neck and then gasped. “The Duke? He did this?”
Grace licked her lips nervously and nodded.
Miss Armstrong’s voice was an octave higher than it had been during their previous conversation. Strange. This was her world. Surely Jane knew that the Duke was a vampire. She sucked in a surprised breath. Vampires. What the hell was happening to her?
Don’t freak out, Grace. She willed herself to get a grip. None of what was going on here mattered. Not really. What mattered was getting back home to Gillian and Jane might be her best hope. Another deep breath. Be normal. Just be normal. She tried to keep her voice calm.
“Didn’t you know that he was a…a vampire?”
She spoke the word and shivered.
“Oh, yes, of course. Only most of them will not drink directly from a vein. It is usually reserved for, shall we say, more intimate moments. Usually they drink from a wine glass. They work to deny their baser instincts. At least those vampires that are high in society. It is how they work to set themselves apart from the others.”
“The others?”
Miss Armstrong helped Grace out of her clothes as they spoke and slipped the nightgown over her head.
“Yes. Those vampires of the lower class who are considered rather beastly for drinking directly from the vein. It is only at St. Claire’s masquerade ball that the elite society will drink from a vein.”
“I see.” But she didn’t see. Not really. This was so bizarre. It was like these…these people followed similar social class norms as they did in Regency England, but they were very different in so many ways.
She remembered something that Philip said in the carriage. “There are werewolves and ghosts also? And something called a reaper? The Duke didn’t go into much explanation, mostly because I freaked out and didn’t give him the chance, but he didn’t explain how this all works.”
She watched as Jane fluffed the blankets, straightening them and then turning them back. “Come to bed, now Miss Carson. You need to rest.”
Grace was losing her grip on reality the more Jane spoke and was so stunned by the events of the last few hours that she had no resistance in her. Grace numbly did as she was told. Jane continued to chatter as she tucked Grace in and got her a glass of water. Grace leaned back against the headboard and listened to the maid tell her many of the things the Duke forgot to mention.
Probably because he was too busy trying to take a bite out of me. Another shiver.
“Usually,” Jane prattled on, “drinking from the vein is reserved for husbands and wives during their private time. At least for the elite society. And yes, there are werewolves. And ghosts and reapers.”
Grace sighed, unsure of what she should ask next. Jane seemed willing to stick around and answer any questions, so Grace felt compelled to learn as much as she could.
“How can I get back? To where I came from.”
“Oh, well, that is rather complicated, you see. One who arrives here because of his or her latent magic gene, as you did, is required to learn at the school of magic for six months. That person is known as a Tyro, and he or she is tested to see how strong the magic is within. The Tyro is then placed, based on the strength of his or her magical ability, into a family that would be a proper fit. At that time, the new arrival will take the name of the family that has adopted him or her and will forever be part of that family as though born into it. Most do not choose to return to the world from which they came. Some do, but the only way you can return is to create a portal, using either your own magic or having someone from the Council do it. Nobody else. I am quite afraid the Council is not in session right now. The members are on holiday.”
Grace’s head spun. Six months of magic school? There was no way she was waiting six months to escape this…world she found herself in.
“I don’t have six months. I need to leave here now, right away, to find my sister.”
“I am quite certain that the Duke will tell you this, but right now the only way to open the portal is if you do it with your own magic. Only you have a memory—the link—to get there, so you must be the spell caster.”
; “Well, there must be a faster way to learn it because I certainly cannot afford to wait for six months. My sister could be dead or worse. There is no telling what that animal is doing to her.”
Miss Armstrong paled and Grace wondered if the women here were overly gentle like she imagined the women of Jane Austen’s era to be.
“I know not, Miss Carson. I am sorry I cannot help you further tonight. If there is nothing else? You should rest. I am certain tomorrow will hold many of its own challenges for you. Will you be all right?”
Grace nodded her head and then Jane gave her a brief smile.
She couldn’t think of what tomorrow might bring.
Jane left the room, closing the door silently behind her. Grace flopped onto the bed, feeling bewildered. How could she lie down and sleep when her sister was missing? And when she was in another world so far from home? She settled into bed while her head spun trying to process her situation. So much had transpired over the course of the last twenty-four hours that she was having a tough time getting her bearings or making sense of anything.
Unable to sleep, she stood and began pacing the room, pouring glass after glass of water and drinking like a dying fish as she walked back and forth across the soft carpet. She reached for the pitcher to pour another glass of water and realized it was empty.
Grace thought for a moment, wondering if she should pull on the rope that she’d seen Jane pull on earlier, then decided that would be ridiculous. She could get her own glass of water. She dug through the chest of drawers, found a robe and pulled it tight against her chest. She took a deep breath and quietly snuck out into the hallway.
She crept silently through the halls. This was the first time she’d been out of the bedroom where they’d put her after she’d passed out on the carriage ride. She didn’t want anyone to fuss over her and suddenly felt the urge to explore this spacious home. She traveled the halls, following the corridors through mazes of hallways until she was thoroughly lost. She noticed that now the walls were much sparser than they had been in the other hallways. Servant quarters perhaps.
She heard voices around the next corner and paused, unsure of what to do. Should she make herself known? She didn’t really want to be seen snooping around, but on the other hand, she didn’t know how to get back to her room, let alone find water.
Grace gripped the glass pitcher in her hand while she made up her mind. She was just about to round the corner and beg for help when one of the voices said something that caught her attention.
“Did you hear about the woman that Lord Daventry brought back from the Other Side?”
“Quite scandalous to bring someone to Kendawyn without her consent.”
“Yes. Although there are not many who would challenge the Daventry family.”
The voices moved further down the corridor. Grace was frozen in place. Philip brought here her without her permission. She’d been kidnapped, and made to feel ignorant and lost and confused?
How could he?
She turned and ran away from the voices. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away. She found herself in a great foyer and looked down over a balcony onto an entry way. Those must be the front doors.
She could see out the window and it was still dark, but out in the distance to the east it was evident that the sun would be coming up soon.
In barely a moment’s time she made up her mind. Whatever had happened, she couldn’t trust Philip. He’d been lying to her from the start. Wherever she’d end up, it had to better than being here with her kidnapper.
She was running down the stairs and out the door before she could consider the consequences to fleeing the Keep in the middle of winter with nothing but a nightgown and robe.
Behind her she could hear Philip call out to her. “Grace! Where are you going? You are in your nightgown.”
She stopped for a moment and turned to look in his direction.
Their eyes met briefly and for moment what she saw there made time slow down. She saw concern in his expression, and something else…something she couldn’t quite identify. She shook her head, pulling herself back to the reality where she stood. This man kidnapped her and brought her into this strange world. He was a liar. She needed to get away from him and find Gillian. Somehow.
She turned and raced away from the Keep and away from Philip.
“Damn woman.” Philip muttered to himself as he followed her out into the dark night. He eyed the sky, noting the proximity to dawn and cursed under his breath. He would have to make this quick as he was not dressed for the sun.
“Grace.” She stopped and turned back to him. She was beautiful. Breathtaking. Her emerald eyes glittered in the light of the moon and the slight breeze played with the tendrils of her fiery red hair. For the briefest moment in time he could see his future right there in her eyes. But then a shadow passed through her eyes. The bright-eyed hope he saw was replaced with darkness. Bitterness. Distrust.
Where did that come from?
She turned and ran away from him across the open field before he had a chance to ask. She practically flew across the neatly manicured lawn but her progress slowed considerably when she hit the edge of the lawn. He watched for a moment with amusement as she tried to move quickly through the knee-high grass.
He could play cat and mouse with all her night, except the night was almost was over. He could not put this off any longer. They would continue their conversation—and he would come to understand the mistrust and fear in his eyes—but it would have to happen indoors.
In less time than it took to blink, he was across the field. He lifted her up into his arms and then flew back to the safety of the house just before the sun crept up over the hills in the east.
“Put me down, you monster! Put. Me. Down!”
He plunked her onto the couch unceremoniously, unimpressed by her temper tantrum.
“There. Happy now?”
“No. I am certainly not happy. I need to—”
“Why would you run? Where you were going to go? Have I not given you everything you have needed?”
She snorted. If he had not already known that she was from another time, this would certainly have given it away. A Kendawyn noble woman would be mortified of behaving in this manner. And he loved it about her. The fire in her eyes, in her voice, matched her blazing hair perfectly.
She stood up and leaned into him, pointing her finger into his chest. “You! How dare you? You pretend that you are such a gentleman. Offering a poor lost stranger a place to stay, food, clothing. But you aren’t a gentleman at all. You are a liar.”
He watched her furious eyes, smelled the scent of her. It was difficult to pay attention to what she was even saying. But the next words caught his attention.
“You kidnapped me. Brought me here without my consent.”
He gripped both of her wrists in one of his hands and watched her face darken with rage.
“Let go of me. Now.”
He ignored her. “I most certainly have not abducted you. I merely extended to you hospitality. You entered that carriage of your own free will.”
“I’m not talking about the carriage.” She looked around. “Or this. You brought me to Kendawyn. You kidnapped me and then pretended to help me.”
“What?” He heard his voice roar through the room and watched the rage in her eyes turn to fear. “What ever are you talking about, Miss Carson? I have abducted no one. I saw you at the masquerade ball and simply offered you shelter.” He dropped her wrists and turned his back on her. “You are quite free to go. However, I might recommend that you do so in more than your nightclothes. Miss Armstrong will see that you have what you need.”
“Fine,” she said. He listened, his back still turned to her, as she stomped out of the room.
As usual, his temper got the best of him. He began pacing back and forth. He could not let her go. He needed her. Wanted her. And he would help her find her sister. Even though he had just told her to go, he needed to find
a way to convince her to stay. And make it seem like it was her idea.
Women, especially this one, were so complicated.
He sighed out loud and then marched up the stairs to her room.
He knocked on the door and Miss Armstrong answered immediately. “Would you please inform Miss Carson that I wish to speak with her? I have some information that might help her on her journey.”
The door opened wider and Grace stepped out into the hall.
“What? What do you want?”
Her tone was harsh and bitter. She stood there with her arms crossed in front of her chest.
He could not think straight when she looked at him.
He closed the distance between them and when their lips met, she gasped under his touch. That lit a fire in him that he had no desire to quench. He encircled her waist and drew her closer to him. He felt her respond to him and lace her arms up and around his neck. She squirmed under his touch as he ran his hands through her hair and down her back.
She pulled her lips back from his and spoke. “Stop it. No more of your tricks, Philip. I just want to find my sister.”
Philip dropped his hands and took a step back. Get control of yourself, man. He sighed irritably and bowed politely. “My apologies, Miss Carson.” His face felt hot. “I did not intend to…that is to say, I…I came here to…”
He cleared his throat.
“I can help you get back to your sister. I promise you that I did not bring you here to Kendawyn. But I will help you return home.”
Her eyes widened. “But I heard…someone said…that Lord Silverhurst brought a woman from another world to Kendawyn against her will…I don’t understand.”
Philip felt his patience slipping. “Gossip and rumors are for mindless children and those of lower class. Neither category would describe you, I am certain. Do not pay any attention to the staff. They have no idea about the matter of which they speak. I did not bring you here. I did not abduct you, but I will help you to return to your home. Unless you would rather continue to stand here and accuse me of dreadful things when all I have done is attempted to offer you hospitality.”