The Good Sister: Part One

by London Saint James

  I blinked. I was hidden in plain sight, the ghost come to life.

  “Shall we go?” Alec asked. He extended out his arm in invitation.

  I took in a large breath, placed my arm around Alec’s arm, and walked with him. We made our way to the grand staircase then descended. I wanted to bolt as I came to the bottom of the stairs, but I pushed back the fear. I’d come too far to stop now. You have to do this, you coward.

  Alec placed his hand overtop mine. We walked forward into a waiting room of sorts. Two large ornate doors stood closed in front of us. When we reached the doors, Alec stopped. He looked at me. “It’s time.”

  I lifted my chin. Straightened my shoulders. Nodded. Alec reached out and opened the doors.

  I peered into a long hall. Inside this room was an elaborately decorated table that ran down the middle of the space like a landing strip. Around the table sat all of my sisters. They were stunningly dressed, and all wearing colorful detailed masks that disguised the perfection of their faces. Beside each woman sat a man, free from the disguises, but all dressed formally. Jacqueline was seated at the head of the table, dressed in deep shades of crimson, her face obscured behind a crimson veil.

  There he was, Reid Addison, as perfect as I remembered, sitting to Jacqueline’s right. He wore a gray suit. My stomach dropped, but I held back the panic. I closed my eyes, giving myself some time for all of this to sink in. Whether it truly sank in or not, I knew I was something and someone else tonight.

  When I opened my eyes, everyone’s attention rested upon me. Jacqueline rose in a fluid graceful movement to her feet.

  “Welcome. We have been expecting you, my petit.” Jacqueline bowed her head in greeting. I followed Jacqueline’s lead and bowed my head, not saying a word as instructed.

  Alec escorted me forward where he pulled out the chair on the far end of the exquisite table. If Jacqueline was seated at the head, I was seated at the foot. Once settled, Alec sat to my right. I witnessed the gentleman to Jacqueline’s left lean into Jacqueline’s ear. He was whispering. Unsure of why, I stared at him. It was strange. Something about this man, his eyes I realized, caught my attention. I held my gaze upon him. His eyes glittered white. For a brief moment I wondered if he were blind then changed my mind. He did not move like someone who could not see.

  With the realization I was staring, I tore my attention from this man. I returned my interest to Reid, who was staring at me. I smiled.

  “You were right, John Paul,” Reid said. “We needed to come tonight.”

  John Paul, who was handsome himself, nodded at me. His tousled blond hair and piercing denim blue eyes were probably his best features.

  “Reid, have I ever made a bad suggestion?” he asked confidently.

  “Tonight was definitely not a bad one,” Reid confirmed.

  My gaze snapped back to Jacqueline. Jacqueline whispered something into the gentleman’s ear. When Jacqueline pulled away, straightened, the man grinned, almost naughtily. He turned to look at me. The intense expression on his face made my heart flutter, like the flapping of butterfly wings. I frowned beneath the mask. I was not at all sure why I would feel this way. He was a stranger. If anything, I should be frightened of this fact. But even more perplexing was the fact this man, this stranger, was breaking my concentration enough to keep me from really watching Reid.

  Once again I pulled my gaze away from the man, allowing myself to glance over to Alec. Alec took my hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed the back of my hand in a gentlemanly fashion.

  Jacqueline lifted a silver bell. “Shall we eat?” she asked then rang it.

  Several people entered through a set of doors located in the back of the room. They brought in plate after plate of food. It reminded me of something one would read about in a fairy tale: the queen, her court, and an elegant dinner party. Without making myself obvious, I lifted my gaze upward.

  Overhead three opulent chandeliers hung, one after the other, following the length of the table. Throughout the room golden candelabras held scores of candles, all lit, flickering. The walls were a mixture of burgundy, floral patterned wallpaper, and deep rich panels of wood, inlayed with smaller panels of trompe-l’oeil scenes. The painted scenes encompassed grassy countrysides, rolling hills, and wildlife. White roses, with some sort of delicate silver foliage, adorned the middle of the table in large crystal vases. And the china, goblets, and silverware were all very detailed in design, just as elegant as Jacqueline herself.

  I observed as Desiree and Domonique gave special attention to the man sitting between the two of them. Desiree adjusted his napkin while Domonique whispered something into his ear. The dark-haired man smiled. I guessed his smile was his best feature, made up of otherwise plain features on a square shaped face. The man proceeded to kiss Domonique on the side of her neck before he leaned to his right to kiss the back of Desiree’s hand. This kiss to the hand was not done in quite the gentlemanly manner.

  When his plate was placed in front of him, both sisters started feeding him. Not in a childish way, but in a slow, seductive manner. They treated him like a king, and both sisters were fixated upon him. They acted like nothing or no one else was in the room. To my amazement, he was just as enthralled, being entranced by both of them.

  My attention flickered over to Amelia, who was weaving her magic with the man to her right. He was exotic looking, possibly Middle Eastern in his heritage, sporting black hair combed tight to his head, and a dark black mustache groomed to perfection. His eyes were dark as well, seeming almost black. Amelia brushed her fingers lightly over his shoulder. Her movements were smooth, but somehow seductive as her hand continued its trail down his arm, resting upon his hand, which was perched dangerously high upon Amelia’s bare thigh.

  I might not be able to eat, captivated by what I was seeing. However, movement in Reid’s direction caught my attention yet again. Reid was leaning into Jacqueline. Speaking very low, so low in fact, I could not hear a thing, but I saw the movement of his lips. Jacqueline smiled, skimmed her hand over his hand then shifted her gaze to me.

  “Everyone is so interested in who you are, my petit. I have told everyone you are my newest protégé. A mystery to be learned. A secret worth keeping. Do you wish me to tell them anything further?” Jacqueline asked.

  I shook my head. The feathers from my mask tickled under my chin.

  Jacqueline laughed the sound of chiming bells. “There,” she said, looking at Reid then over to the gentleman on her left, “you see. She does not wish to make herself known nor do I wish to give away the mystery.”

  I heard the voice that belonged to the strange man who seemed so interested in me. The man with the white eyes spoke in a British accent. “Then what shall we call you?”

  I said nothing. He brought his thumb to his chin and rubbed his thumb in the middle of it, as if he were considering.

  “You are a vision in white, an angel, even yet angel does not seem quite right.” His gaze flowed over me. He took me in like a man starved, and I was his banquet. “You are elegant, graceful, beyond beautiful, purity in the flesh, and as quiet as a whisper. I believe I shall call you, my dove,” he announced. Honey dripped from his tongue.

  Maybe he’s the definition of a silver-tongued devil?

  The round red faced man who was seated to the right of the British man puffed up, indignant. He seemed to throw, not place, his napkin to the table.

  “What makes you believe she will be yours?” he asked.

  Reid’s eyes flashed. He shifted his gaze to the British man.

  “I must only dare to hope,” the British man returned as he glanced back toward me.

  I studied this man’s features, his face. His face was just as perfect as Reid’s, flawlessly cut in chiseled angular shapes that did draw the eye. He had high cheekbones. The defined triangular jaw line which lead into a slightly clefted chin. His hair was the color of dark milk chocolate, meticulously cut to highlight the form of his face. His sideburns were long. He had l
ong thick lashes, and his eyebrows dark, were shaped and tapered off at the outside ends. They topped the strangest eyes. There was something about his eyes, but I was too far away to see the detail of them.

  I tore my gaze from this stranger, fixing my attentions back toward Reid. Reid was still looking at me. For a moment I thought he might recognize me, but then I decided he would not, if for nothing more than he would never render a guess I could ever be here, in France.

  I glanced down at my plate, took my fork into hand, and proceeded to spear some of the green leafy salad, well aware people were watching me eat. My movements became small, my bites delicate. I wanted to slink down my chair and hide beneath the table, but I took hold of myself.

  Chatter continued within the room. Seduction and lust flowed throughout the space. I drank it all in, soaking up the atmosphere, the actions, movements, the words of my sisters like a sponge, and placing each into my mind. Everything, even down to the flick of their wrist when they picked up a napkin, was complete and total beauty, complete and total temptation.

  I observed the movements of their eyes, the batting of their lashes, the looks of seduction as my sisters spoke to the men around them. I watched the slow movement of their mouths as they ate. I took in the rounding of their lips as they formed words, the inviting body language as they moved. Then I watched the responses of the men. Even something as inconsequential as the movement of the women’s hair, the shifting of their shoulder or the tap of a finger seemed to capture the men. The men took in every moment and every movement the women made available to them. Yet I could tell it was the women who were in control here, only allowing the illusion of the men being in control.

  I had the distinct feeling this dinner was the prelude to something more. I’d entered a forbidden world. A world of pleasure, seduction, and temptation. This was a world of endless hidden need, wishes, desires, and wants. I’d entered the world of sex. Jacqueline, as well my new sisters were sex, I realized, and for the men who could afford their attentions they had an endless supply of pleasure for the taking. But only if my sisters wished to give. This much was evident.

  Seven courses later I had already learned so much, not only about my sisters but also about myself. What I had not learned yet, Reid. What is he really doing here in France other than sleeping around? What does he hope to gain from his time here?

  Jacqueline broke through my reverie. “Shall we excuse ourselves to the parlor?” she asked. She rose from the table and walked to the back set of doors.

  With an outstretched arm, which I took, Alec escorted me into the parlor. The parlor was another grand open room with cozy sitting areas. A bar had been nestled beside a raging open hearth fireplace that was constructed of rock. More candelabras holding flickering candles were placed at each side. The room wasn’t lit by overhead light. Only the raging fire, along with a multitude of candelabras, strategically placed around the room, provided the ambiance of muted light. It was the kind of light that inspired secrets, and held on to them.

  I journeyed around the parlor, noticing the curtains upon the many windows were thick velvet in a deep purple. All of which were drawn, closing out the night. The walls were paneled in what I assumed to be mahogany, and the floor was dark planked wood as well.

  I heard the British man. I stopped, and glanced around until I found him. I focused my attention on him, his voice. He had a soothing voice. Strange to notice. Why did this man draw my attention?

  “My dearest, Jacqueline. As always you are a true vision,” he said. He lifted her hand and kissed her inner wrist. “But you must know I am completely enamored by the vision in white you presented to us this evening.”

  “I was convinced you would be,” Jacqueline replied.

  “I must know more of her, my dearest.”

  “As in all things, my lord. It will be up to her. She and only she will reveal her secrets.”

  My lord?

  “Then introductions are in order I should think,” he returned.

  Jacqueline smiled as though somehow victorious before she bowed her head toward the gentleman. “Very well. I do believe you would be beneficial in her tutelage, so I shall introduce you.”

  Jacqueline and the man approached. Once he was close enough, I gasped. I saw his eyes, the detail of them. His eyes were the color of ice, and surrounded the dark black liquid pools of his pupils. This white ice filled color around his irises, gradating into darker shades of blue, something close to the color of a summer’s day. But this was not all. They were ringed on the outer edge of his irises with poignant silver. His eyes, both tempting and haunting, seemed to pass imperceptibly from one shade or degree of intensity to another. With complete astonishment, I saw that at times, his eyes were indeed completely white.

  Were they the eyes of an angel or of a devil?

  “I am sorry, my dove. Did I startle you?” he asked.

  I stared into his eyes, lost within the intensity and strange coloration. His eyes caught a flicker of the candlelight. They transformed into a storm of blue then silver. I could not remove my eyes from his riveting gaze. I’d never seen anything like his eyes. They called to me, excited me, scared me, and intrigued me.

  “You are frightened of my eyes.” It was not a question.

  I bowed my head in acknowledgement.

  “Do not be frightened, my dove. I promise you I am not a devil.”

  I looked up, shocked in his word choice. I’d been thinking his eyes were either that of an angel or a devil.

  “I see you do not believe me,” he taunted with a crooked grin. “I shall have to work hard at convincing you I am not as evil as my eyes may appear.”

  Jacqueline interrupted. “My petit, allow me to introduce you. This is Lord Archer.”

  He held out his hand. I allowed Jacqueline to place my hand into his. Lord Archer grasped my hand softly then lifted my hand to his lips. He brushed his lips in a gentle caress across the back of my hand before placing a kiss there. The frisson of heat and energy that passed between us was tangible. It sounds impossible, but I swore my hand sizzled. Lord Archer closed his eyes for a moment, before he gazed up into my masked face.

  “I am pleased to meet you, my dove,” he replied. He kept my hand secured in his for a ceaseless moment then let it go as if it pained him to release it.

  “Alec,” Jacqueline said, “shall we leave these two to become acquainted?”

  My stomach flipped. I saw Reid out of the corner of my eye, but was it Reid or Lord Archer who was making my stomach dip and flutter? I was not at all sure.

  “My sweet beauty,” Alec said. “You are in good hands with Lord Archer.”

  I smiled at Alec, turned my gaze toward Reid momentarily then over to Lord Archer. Alec and Jacqueline left.

  “Would you afford me the honor, my dove?” Lord Archer asked as he held out his arm in invitation.

  I bowed my head, took his arm, and walked with him. Lord Archer was tall, well over six feet tall, I presumed. Reid was six-two and Lord Archer seemed taller. He was lean with wide shoulders, and was wearing an extraordinary blackish-blue suit. The color of his suit bounced somewhere between the two colors within the candlelight. I was unsure of the maker of the suit, but it was clear what he was wearing was very expensive, as well as tailored to fit him exactly.

  As we walked, I studied him. Curious. Lord Archer was beyond handsome. This might possibly be due to the fact he was assured, regal. Something about that regal air fit him, suited him, as if he could be no other than an aristocrat.

  “I thought you would like some privacy,” he commented, while escorting me down the long hallway. He stopped outside a smaller sitting room of sorts.

  He obviously knew his way around the chateau. He was also completely at ease, confidently bold however not pushy yet strangely captivating. I nodded my response to his privacy comment. Understanding this to be my acknowledgement, Lord Archer proceeded. In fact, his confidence added to his appeal. Yes, I was quite sure of this.

&n
bsp; Once we were inside of the small parlor, he closed the door. A shudder rolled over me. I tried to control it. Lord Archer probably felt my body shake, but perhaps he would think I was cold, having caught a draft. He need not know it was him who made me shudder, but oddly not in fear.

  “Shall we?” he offered, holding out his hand toward an antique loveseat. It sat in front of the marble fireplace.

  I took a seat. He made sure I was seated before he sat beside me. I traced my hand over the gilt carved edge of the loveseat. The carved spindle was of a ram’s head.

  I shivered again as I returned my gaze to Lord Archer.

  “I assure you, my dove, you are safe,” he replied, looking into my eyes.

  His eyes are hypnotizing.

  I pulled away from Lord Archer’s power packed stare to glance around the small room. We were the only two people present. I turned, looked at the door. It was shut. I adjusted myself upon the loveseat and focused my attention back to Lord Archer’s face. In a moment of sheer beauty the flicker of the fire rolled shadows and light off the cut of his cheekbones. The darkened ash color of his thick lashes splayed long lines of shadow across the hollow of his eyes.

  Perhaps having my face covered gave me a sense of boldness or maybe it was something within Lord Archer himself, but I wasn’t frightened. How peculiar. I wanted to speak with him, to know him.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Lord Archer,” I said.

  He smiled the kind of smile the sun itself would envy. It was warm, and broke through the intensity of his chiseled features. His silver eyes danced.