by Joey W. Hill
Earlier, she’d asked Mrs. C to prepare a sampling of foods that were Alistair’s favorites. As Alistair handed her into the Buick Phaeton under a night sky, she peeked into the basket, curious. A seasoned chicken salad, a container of colorful fruit, and a bread so fresh she inhaled the scent of the heated yeast through the bread cloth. Cubes of various cheeses. The cook had packed Nina the makings for a chicken salad sandwich. There were also biscuits with chocolate chips and walnuts.
“Your cook spoils you, my lord.”
“I think my servant does. She requested the meal, didn’t she?”
“I told her to pack me a sandwich and throw in a few crusts of moldy bread for you that the dogs didn’t want.”
“Your impertinence will be rewarded,” he said, hand flashing out to squeeze her knee. She squealed, for he knew how ticklish her knees were, and pulled out of his grasp. He tossed her a satisfied look and put the car in gear. Her handsome Master wore a pair of slacks, spotless linen shirt and a silk-backed brocade vest, his jacket tossed into the back. His hair had already dried in that artful way that could make her hate him. But he had his hand on her nape now and was playing with her hair, telling her he had no objections to her fluttering wayward feathers.
The park to which they were going was one that Nero had assured her would have what she was seeking. While Alistair had some familiarity with it, it had apparently been a while since he’d been there. As he pulled in and saw the bright lights over the footy field, the men playing, he slowed the car down. His eyes went to the field, lingered there. Stayed.
“Alistair,” she said quietly. They had no cars behind them right now, fortunately, but she didn’t want a blaring horn to pull him out of a place deep in his head. She touched his hand on the wheel and his head jerked, his gaze shooting toward her.
“Let’s find a parking place and watch the games while we eat,” she said. “I haven’t watched a good footy match in a while.”
He looked conflicted. For a second, she had a feeling what he most wanted was to turn the car around and leave. So she made much of looking eagerly toward the field and shooting him a bright smile. “Sher knew nothing about the game. Dad and I wanted to strangle her the few times we dragged her along to the local matches. Her questions came at the most inopportune times. I remember once, my father was answering one of them just as the most exciting point of the game was made. He never laid a hand on either of us, but I thought he might clout her, then and there.”
“Well, there’s family, and then there’s footy.” Alistair seemed to recover himself, enough to make the declaration with a hint of his normal humor.
“Exactly. I expect a judge would send him to prison for murdering his own daughter, but he’d likely be as lenient as possible in the sentencing.”
Alistair’s tense mouth relaxed even more. Nina curled her hand around his on the gear shift as he parked the car and switched off the ignition. He lifted his troubled gaze to hers, and she held it. “Do you know,” she said steadily, “There are things I never want to forget, that I always want to honor, with a fierceness bordering on violence. But there are other, more personal things I want back, too. Things that are mine, and I’m going to have them back. But I might need some help with that.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“You read my mind. You should know.”
“I know some things. Other things…I don’t stay in your mind that much, sweet nurse. When I’m there, I don’t want to leave. So I resist. And as a result, I can have the pleasure of hearing you explain things to me in that lovely, practical voice of yours.”
She’d call it practiced charm if he didn’t speak so seriously. When I’m there, I don’t want to leave.
“I miss having you there, talking to me. I wish you would, during your days or nights. As much as you wish. I also miss being with you.” She tightened her hand over his. “I watch you sometimes. I thought you knew but maybe you don’t. I sat upstairs in my room the other night and watched you wading in the waves. I wanted to come down to the beach and be with you, but I was afraid…you’d make me come into the water with you. I’m doing well—I can walk in front of the dunes, on the ocean side now, but I don’t know about going all the way to the edge, or getting in. It makes me remember, you see, and I lose everything else. Like I did at Hal’s cottage. It bothers me. I used to love swimming, spending the day on the beach.”
She lifted his clasped hand to her mouth, held her face there, as she ran her other arm up his forearm, curling her fingers into his shirt sleeve, holding on.
A weighted pause, and then his lips touched her temple, his head bent over hers. “We’ll work on that. I’ll take you wading, hold you in my arms. I’ll give you experiences in the water that will take away your fear.”
He didn’t say memories, and she appreciated that he understood that couldn’t be done. But the pain of them could be eased. Balanced with other memories.
“What else do you want, Nina?”
“I want to…I’d like to start sleeping in the room next to yours. And maybe sometimes…you’d let me come spend some time sleeping with you in yours. I mean…you do have a pretty big bed.”
“I’m a terrible sprawler.”
She smiled against his flesh, then closed her eyes as he laid his hand against her back, between her shoulder blades and dug in. Then abruptly, he straightened and drew away, but not before he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “C’mon. The smell of that bread’s becoming too much to resist. Your stomach’s growling.”
“I thought that was yours,” she teased. Her voice and her insides weren’t entirely steady, a lot of dense emotions packed into that moment. He hadn’t agreed, but he hadn’t said no to any of it. She would let it all stay there, an idea, one he might find appealing, too.
He exited the car, waving at her to stay when she would have opened the door for herself. He handed her out and took the picnic basket, giving her a look.
You may be my servant, but you are also a lady, and I am a gentleman. You can expect manners from me. At least in public. His eyes twinkled.
Then a burst of shouting came from the field, snapping his attention away from her. She saw enough of it to guess it was a response to the other team spoiling the mark. A lot of good-natured insults were being tossed back and forth.
Alistair stared at the field for a blink, and then his gaze was back on her. As he closed the door and they proceeded to a picnic spot, she noticed he now kept his eyes averted from the play in an oddly deliberate way. “So, sweet nurse. Do you really know much about the game, or are you one of those girls who pretends to know about it to impress a boy?”
She snorted as he led her to a patch of grass on a slope that gave them a good view of the closest playing field, but still at a distance they could easily chat. It also put them somewhat beyond the brightest circle of the field lights. She’d noticed most vampires didn’t care for intense brightness, even at night. She pulled the blanket out of the basket and spread it out. As she did, she noticed he’d turned his back to the field, continuing his strange avoidance of seeing it. Rather than address that, though, she went for the sideways angle to it.
“There are three classes of girls when it comes to footy, my lord. The ones who don’t know a thing and could care even less about it, but flutter their eyelashes and pretend they care because they’re mad about the boy passionately explaining it.” Straightening after she spread out the blanket for them, she ticked off the next point on a second finger. “Then there are the ones who know as much as the boys and yet pretend not to, in order to give him the opportunity to impress her and feel more comfortable in her company.”
She knelt to pull out the food and set it out. Crossing his arms, Alistair looked down at her. “And the third?”
She slanted a glance up at him. “The ones who know as much as the boys and aren’t afraid to show it, because they aren’t worried about whether he likes her or not, or if he thinks she likes him. She already knows the answer to those questions an
d would rather enjoy the game with him.”
“Sounds like a mythical creature to me.” He dropped down beside her. It put him in profile to the field, and she noticed his gaze sliding to it, then jerking away, like a child touching a hot stove. She prepared the food, idly chatting about this or that, making the occasional comment about the play. He responded in absent monosyllables, his attention staying out there more and more. She noted his fist was clenched in the blanket, though, his jaw tense as he watched.
She took a closer look at him, and realized his eyes were glassy, the way a person’s gaze was when what they were seeing was an overlay of the past with the present. Did he see Jonathan out there? Mort?
She spoke quietly. “Do you remember that night, when you said paths to oblivion were far better than stagnant rituals we both know mean nothing?”
He lifted a shoulder, acknowledging her words, but the direction of his gaze didn’t change. “I think some rituals do mean something,” she said, gesturing to it. “And can help us stay out of the fields of blood.”
She covered his hand then, and spoke simply. “I know you miss them very much. I’m sorry.”
His gaze shifted to her, and his jaw, held so tight she thought it might crack, eased a fraction. “It’s not expected for vampires to grieve. Especially not for humans. We’re not even supposed to go on much about our servants, no matter how long we’ve had them.”
“Sounds like vampires can be a hard lot. Thank God you come from Brit stock, with a lot of Aussie influence. We’re a reticent bunch when it comes to sentiment ourselves.”
“Yeah. We are.” He looked at her. “You dream about it, and you think about it, even when you don’t think you are. I see it in your mind. The evacuation, the bodies in the streets of Singapore, all the fires.”
She began to shake her head, try to divert the topic, but he touched her face, her chin, making her lift her gaze to him again. “I see you on the Vyner Brooke, before the Japanese hit the boat.” His jaw set. “The Matrons called you together soon as you set sail, set up a course of action. Laid out how you’d make sure that the civilians on the boat would be protected and given the life rafts first if you were attacked. I’d expect that, all that preparation. Nurses are an organized lot. But when the bombs hit, and it all became a reality, and the ship went down, that’s what you all did.”
“It was our charge. We had to take care of all of them.” She looked down at the food, began to rearrange it, but his hand came into her field of vision, closed over her fingers, stilling her.
“You weren’t just nurses. You were bloody well soldiers, every damn one of you.”
She put her own hand over his, not looking up, but feeling his regard, the weight of his emotions, strong as hers, both caught in the past. The footy field was still there, the boys still calling. A breeze had kicked up, but here there was just that intent stillness between her and Alistair.
“No one expects it of women,” he said bluntly. “The lot of you didn’t even want to evacuate. You were prepared to stay with your patients until the end. You cried when you had to leave. The Matron had to choose who went on the first boat because no one volunteered. If you had, you would have made it home, Nina, because the first boat did. You never would have had to see what happened at Bangka Island.”
She shook her head. “But someone other than me would have.”
He touched her face. As he sat up, bent over her, her eyes closed, and his lips were against her temple. “Exactly my bloody point,” he said roughly. “You were every bit of the soldier any man in the field was. Though I wished it could have been different for you.”
She lifted her eyes, saw his own were brilliant and hard, a warrior who’d wanted to protect her.
“I wished it hadn’t have happened to any of us,” she said. “I wished Sher hadn’t died. She was so full of life…so beautiful…and a part of my heart that will always be empty.”
She swallowed, brushing back the tears with frustration. That wasn’t why she was here. She’d come here for him. Not for her. He cupped her face, took them away.
“Maybe this is for us both. It brings it out, doesn’t it?” He looked toward the footy field and squinted, as if the lights were too bright, but she knew it wasn’t the light. The glare of other people’s realities could be too harsh against one’s own. “If she’d lived, you wouldn’t have to be here with me.” He said it low, and there was the weight of many things on it.
“True.” She would have wished her alive, but not for that. After Nina had met Alistair, during the three years before Sher died, far too often she’d wished…
His head came back around. Her stomach jumped at his look. Now, of all times, he’d chosen to be in her head. His gaze pinned her. “What did you wish, Nina? Tell me.”
This was a precarious moment, she realized, where all that she thought might be going on with him could be proven. If she was brave enough to open herself to him. Heart and soul.
I wished that she’d had the vampire master she wanted, but that it didn’t have to be you.
Now his stillness was different. It wasn’t about the past. It was vitally here, in the present. Yet when he spoke, there was a deceptive mildness to his tone.
“Thought of me some during those years, did you?”
“On occasion. Not so much, really.”
He knew how much she thought of him. He only had to look. It was too much; the memories, the loss, the yearning, all jumbled together in the same few moments. She couldn’t think of a way to distract him from pursuing it further, but he picked up on her need. Or maybe it matched his.
“I can understand why you didn’t want her to be with me,” he said gravely. “After having met me, seeing how odious I am, you didn’t want her to have to put up with me for three hundred years.”
“That was it. For certain. And your looks…” She shuddered. “So repulsive.”
“Well, we vampires are a repulsive lot.”
He touched her chin and she lifted her face obediently, though meeting his gaze was hard. His smile was as painful as the tightening of her heart in response.
“We should probably head back,” he said. “I’ve gone and ruined it.”
“Nothing of the sort,” she said staunchly. “We’ve barely started our meal, and it’s a fine night.” Suspecting he was about to overrule her, she added, “Please, my lord. I’d really like to stay for a little while.”
As he appeared to waffle, she pressed the advantage. “We’ll watch for a little while and then, if it’s too unbearable, we’ll go. If I can tolerate watching handsome men in shorts, so can you.”
Amusement cut through the intensity of his gaze, relieving her. “Deal. For now.”
Clasping her hand, he tugged her down on her side with him and pulled her flush to him, gripping the side of her throat as he put his mouth on hers and unleashed a demand she hadn’t anticipated. The force of it pushed her to her back and had him leaning over her, his arm tight around her waist as her fingers curled into his shirt, her thumb slipping between two buttons to stroke hard flesh.
Where had this come from? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t objecting. She was always overwhelmed and amazed at what his kisses, ones like this, could do to her, sweeping her away from everything, from every worry.
When at last he raised his head, he framed her face with one of his strong hands, giving her an intent look. “I want to have more of this conversation at home. Sooner rather than later.”
“Deal,” she said faintly, echoing his words. His blue eyes flashed with humor, though it didn’t dilute their heat one watt.
“Oi, mate! Are we boring you, then?”
Nina smiled as her Master grimaced. “Should have known. Footy players and their goddamned cheek.” He sat up, and shot a derisive look at the two players on the sidelines at the bottom of the hill, grabbing some water.
“Those that have pretty girls, do this. Those that don’t…” Alistair shrugged and spread out his hands. “I guess
they play footy.”
Nina laughed as the men tossed insults his way along with wide grins. “Big talk there.” The tall redhead nudged his mate, a shorter dark-haired man. “I think it’s his clothes. They’re too pretty. He can’t come and have a kick with us and get them dirty. One of ours just had to take off for work. Want to fill in and keep us even? Got a spare pair of shorts and shirt and we look a similar build. Except for me being more manly and all.” He cocked a brow at Nina. “If you can spare him.”
She managed a shrug and a flippant move with her not-so-steady hand. “I was hoping someone would relieve me of his unwanted attentions.”
She laughed and shrieked as Alistair lunged at her. Rolling, she jumped to her feet and went down the hill, him chasing after her. The two men called encouragement and waved their arms to block Alistair as she used them as a buffer to help her dodge him.
For just a moment, she remembered the youthful girl she’d been, who’d laughed so much more easily, all the possibilities of the world still open. And in him, she saw a trace of the same, a young man who’d perhaps been headed for a different path, but had chosen this one, had embraced it, even as he still had that part inside him, ready to be called forth by someone who could pull him out of darkness.
I’d have had you down on the ground beneath me if we didn’t have an audience. He was ten feet from her, had paused as one of the men shoved at him good-naturedly. Though he wasn’t even looking at her now, the silky thought stroked across her skin as if he still had her in his embrace.
Easy to say when you can move like a vampire.
His gaze slid to her, held her with that piercing look he did so well, that weakened her knees, shortened her breath and accelerated her heart rate, all at once.
I’d have caught you even if I were no faster than these blokes. I have incentive. I know what you look like, wet and begging.
A strategic retreat seemed advisable before her whole face was the color of an apple. One of the men distracted him, bringing him the spare clothes. As they began to talk and get to know one another in the way men did, Nina made her way up the hill with her flushed cheeks.