The Good Sister: Part One

by London Saint James

  “Maybe there is hope for him after all,” Breeze said.

  “I told him that, Breeze. I told him he needed to find a balance in his life, and no matter what I wanted or what I feel, he needs to find a way to care for someone, to love someone. He doesn’t believe himself capable of love, of feeling.” I frowned.

  “What is it, Trinity?” Jacqueline asked.

  “He doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have me either. He says he wants me to make a better decision than him. To find someone who will love me completely, yet he doesn’t really want that either.”

  “And what did you tell him?” Amelia asked.

  “I told him I could not stay a virgin forever. He said he knew that, then admitted he would be jealous of any other man, hate me, hate the other man. I don’t understand all of it. I still don’t understand him. I want to try to help him.”

  “You may never fully understand, my petit,” Jacqueline interjected, “but you cannot live your life in a limbo waiting for Reid Addison either. Have you not already lived within a limbo?”

  “Yes.”

  Jacqueline reached out, and touched my cheek. “I believe Lord Archer has feelings for you, my petit.”

  “Jacqueline, if he does, what about you? Don’t you still love him?”

  Jacqueline smiled. “A part of me will always love Lord Archer, just as a part of you will always love Reid. I believe it has something to do with the unattainable, and never fully gaining our desire.”

  “And it won’t hurt you, to see me with him?”

  “No. I wish for his happiness, and someday you will wish for Reid’s.”

  “I do wish for Reid’s happiness.”

  “But it would hurt you to see his happiness obtained with another, oui?”

  I bowed my head. “I think it would. But there’s something about Lord Archer. I feel something. Maybe not like I feel for Reid, but I cannot lie and say I feel nothing for Lord Archer.”

  “You need never lie,” Amelia assured, “your heart will show you the truth even though your head may fight against the truth, but your body…” Amelia smiled. “Your body will bend to the will of the heart.”

  “How do you give yourselves to men and not feel? I mean, how do you separate the pleasure your body feels from the love your heart feels?” I asked.

  “My petit,” Jacqueline said, “everyone in this room has suffered much heartache. You should be glad you do not know how to sever the tie between the body and the heart. No one in this room wishes you to.” Jacqueline stood. “Let us get on with our day without such woeful thoughts.” She walked over to an easel, and pulled back the piece of material that covered it. “Look.”

  Everyone stood, including me. We gazed at the painting John Paul had completed.

  “It is fabulous,” said Amelia.

  Various voices echoed through the room with a resounding, “Yes.”

  “It is quite a vision,” Jacqueline assured. “I am thinking of giving it to Lord Archer as a birthday gift.”

  “His birthday?” I said.

  “Yes. I believe he will be quite pleased to have this gift,” Jacqueline replied, confidently.

  “When is his birthday?”

  “In June,” Jacqueline said, “right after the masquerade.”

  “Masquerade?” Was I a mimicking parrot?

  “Oui, my petit. The first week in June has always been celebrated in honor of Lord Archer, his return from the Royal Navy, and his birthday. Everyone comes, and it is always a masquerade ball.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Don’t you like the painting?” Jacqueline asked. “You have afforded it barely a glance.”

  “It is beautiful. Just hard to believe that’s me.”

  “It is you, in splendid youth, flawless beauty, endless sensuality, and goddess quality, my petit. Revel in your attributes, captured for all time upon this canvas.”

  I glanced at the writing on the bottom of the painting over John Paul's signature. “What do the words at the bottom mean?”

  “Ah … La Bonne Sœur. It means the good sister,” Jacqueline replied.

  “The good sister,” I echoed, remembering L.J., how he called me the good sister, thinking it odd, a quirk, a twist of fate? “Why did John Paul name the painting that?”

  Jacqueline smiled. “My petit, it is quite simple. For you are the purity among the sin.”

  ****

  Over the next few days I spent one-on-one time with my sisters, learning, listening, and reading. They talked on politics, world events, art, literature, as well the royal hierarchy of England. There was much more involved than addressing Ashton as Lord. Ashton was in actuality an Earl. Ashton’s father, a Duke. I also learned Lord Archer, or my Ashton as I was beginning to think of him, was to be the next Duke of Buckinghamshire’s heir, not Gavin.

  “Gavin being first born should be the heir to the dukedom, but he is fortunate not to be disowned,” Amelia explained.

  “So Ashton has quite a bit of responsibility, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes,” said Tempest.

  In the afternoons I went back to my workout routine, my lessons on poise and posture, formal eating etiquette, and added ballroom dancing to the lineup.

  “My beauty,” Alec said, “you need to lock your wrist, follow the line.” He again took me into what I felt was an awkward position to dance in. “Where are your heels?” He gave me a look of haughty disappointment. “You will be dancing in elegant heels, not your bare feet as a peasant.”

  “Okay, Alec,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “How do you know so much about this?” I sauntered across the dining hall to pick up my high heels. I’d kicked them off into the corner when he wasn’t looking.

  “I was once considered royalty myself,” he replied.

  I twirled around.

  “Royalty? Are you pulling my leg?”

  Alec laughed. “No, why do you say I pull your leg?”

  “It’s an expression. It means are you are kidding me or messing around with me?”

  “Ah, well no. I am not pulling your leg.”

  I went back to Alec, wearing the silver strappy spiked high heels with my black spandex jogging pants, a gray t-shirt missing the bottom hem that showed off my bare midriff, and my hair pulled up into a curling mess of a ponytail. I pouted as I returned to the starting position of the tango.

  Alec took his finger and flipped my pouting lip. “What is this? No pouting.”

  Trinity giggled. “Stop! Don’t flip my lip.”

  Alec flipped my lip again. “Then stop pouting.”

  I broke out into a laugh.

  Alec started the music and took me into his arms.

  “We are in four-four timing,” Alec reminded. “Feel the music. Allow your body to feel the rhythm, and move to the rhythm.”

  With complete concentration I listened to the music. Soon I gave my body over to the beat, the movement…

  “Good,” Alec encouraged, “Keep your elbow and your wrist locked.”

  “So tell me about being royalty,” I said on a spiraling spin across the floor.

  “Hold the line of your neck and shoulder,” Alec said, then twirled me. “My mother’s name was Isabella Bastille Vara Cruz. She came from a royal lineage in her own right. She was the rightful heir to the crown, but her sister, Francesca, stole her right.”

  “How?”

  “My mother was to marry the King, but her sister always wanted what my mother had. You see, my mother and her sister were identical twins. My mother took the title of first born, heir to the Vara Cruz birthright, therefore she was betrothed to the King. Francesca tricked my mother, had her stolen from her bed, bound, and sent from Spain. She took my mother’s place on her wedding day. Francesca married the King. When my mother finally made her way back into Spain, back to the King, she exposed her sister’s treachery. The King would do nothing to tarnish his name or his throne. As far as the he was concerned, he married Isabella. What my mother never told him wa
s she carried his child. My mother was pregnant with me.”

  “That is horrible, Alec. I mean horrible what happened to your mother, not that she was pregnant with you.”

  Alec smiled. “Yes, my lovely Trinity. Many suffer great cruelty at the hands of others.”

  “And this,” I said, tracing my fingertip over a scar on Alec’s collarbone that exposed itself when his shirt twisted, “how did you come by so many scars, Alec?”

  Alec stopped. “How do you know I have many?”

  I started to tuck my chin. Alec stopped me by tucking his finger underneath.

  “I watched you take off your shirt the night you stayed in my room at Lord Archer’s,” I admitted then I touched his cheek. “Your skin is still beautiful, Alec.”

  “My beauty,” he said, fondly, “I know what I am, how I look. You do not need to lie in order to spare my feelings.”

  “No. I’m not lying to you. You have beautiful skin. It has always reminded me of cinnamon.”

  “Such sweetness,” he said, finding the rhythm and twirling us.

  “Besides, the scars do not make you any less, Alec. They don’t make you who you are, they just show you where you’ve been, what you have survived. We all have scars, some of which no one can see.”

  “You are wise as well as beautiful, my dear Trinity.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about the scars if you don’t want to,” I assured.

  The song stopped.

  “My mother was attacked,” Alec said. “I was fifteen, and came home to find men raping her. I lost my head, lunged at them. They bound me, and cut me. They told me to watch or they would kill her. I had no will but to watch them take my mother over and over until they sliced her throat.” Alec closed his eyes, his jaw tightened. “I was spared only because they knew who I was. They feared retribution if they killed me.” Alec opened his eyes. They were hard, cold as though the liquid honey had left from them, turning into polarized amber. “They feared no retribution for my mother’s death, because my mother as far as the people were concerned was married to the King. The woman they killed was nothing. But they should have feared, because they do not live to see this day.”

  “You killed them, didn’t you?”

  Alec’s honey brown eyes were filled with pain as he answered. “Yes. I went to my father, begging for his most cruel intervention on behalf of my mother. I described the men, her murderers. When he rendered medical attention to me, I hoped he would go after those bastards, but while he gave me aide, he refused me my vengeance.” Alec looked past me as he said, “It took me many years to find them all. There were seven. I found the last man here. This is how I met Jacqueline.”

  Reid’s voice broke in. “Alec, is this really necessary?” he said, coming toward us.

  Alec turned his head, smiling toothy white. “Reid, we are working on our dancing skills, nothing more,” he assured. “Why are you here?”

  “I have come to invite Trinity to go jogging with me.”

  I twirled to look at Reid head on. “You want me to go jogging with you?”

  “Sure. You told me you had taken up jogging so I jogged over here to go jogging with you,” he said with his dimpled smile. “It’s a nice day, the sun is out, and you only need a sweat shirt.” He eyed my bare midriff then moved his gaze to my feet. “You also need your jogging shoes.”

  “But you jog all the time, Reid. I’m not sure I’m up to your caliber.”

  Reid shrugged. “So then I’ll take it easy on you.”

  I gave a wide stretched grin, and walked with determination to the doors of the dining hall.

  “Where are you going?” Reid asked.

  “Alec, we are done for today, right?” I asked.

  Alec replied, “Yes. We can continue tomorrow, my beauty.”

  “I am going to get a sweat shirt and my jogging shoes, Reid.” I huffed. “And by the way, maybe I will take it easy on you!”

  Alec and Reid both laughed.

  “She really is quite something,” Reid said. Alec nodded his head in agreement.

  ****

  Reid and I made our way down to a path.

  “Do you know where we are going?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said, eying me. “You know, you have good form for a girl.”

  I glowered at him, rolling my eyes. “For a girl? Tell me I didn’t just hear that.”

  Reid broke out into a breathy laugh.

  “I said it. What are you going to do about it?” he teased.

  I socked his arm. Within moments he snagged me up, entangled me within his arms.

  “So you think you are tough,” he stated. He ruffled my fuzzy ponytail with his fingers while keeping me secured within the constraints of his arms. I laughed, wiggled, squirmed, but made very little progress.

  “Just because you have more muscle than me does not mean you are toughest.” I wiggled one hand free and flicked his nose with my fingers.

  Reid laughed while binding me up like a pretzel. As quick as lightening he had flipped me around in his arms, and nuzzled his nose into the hollow of my ear.

  “So how are you going to get out of this, little tough stuff?”

  “Like this,” I said, rubbing my ass against the hardness of his stiff crotch.

  He loosened his hold. I broke loose, laughing nonstop, running full speed ahead.

  “Ha, that was easy,” I taunted as I ran.

  “Oh yeah!” he called out after me. Within a few seconds I was his again. He’d caught me.

  “I let you catch me,” I said.

  “Uh huh,” Reid mumbled. “You sound a little winded. Are you sure I didn’t catch you because I’m faster, and you’re already tired?”

  I shrugged. “No,” I fibbed. Reid chuckled. I’d never heard him laugh so much before. “You’re in a good mood today.”

  “Maybe because I’m spending time with you,” he said, and he was serious.

  “I’m sure you could have found something better to do with your time.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” He let me loose and took hold of my hand. “Come on. I want to show you something,” he said, leading me farther down the path then over through a grove of trees. “Look.” He pointed.

  I was looking at a half frozen pond. In the spring I imagined this place would be magical. Even now, half frozen, it was quite beautiful. Reid sat down, pulling me onto his lap. I gazed at the ice.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Look over there,” he said, pointing to a tall patch of winter worn grass. “When I came here in August that spot was filled with bright wild flowers. And there,” he pointed to the farthest crop of trees, “there were ducks and swans swimming over close to the embankment by those trees.” Reid tucked his chin on top of my head. “And over there, that’s nothing but tall grass. A whole field of it, green as far as the eye can see.”

  “Thanks for showing this to me.” I tugged Reid’s arms a bit tighter around me.

  “You’re welcome, baby…” I elbowed his rib. “Trinity,” he corrected.

  We sat in silence, enjoying the moment. And it was our moment, at least for me. Free of any other feeling but the landscape around us, the breeze, the distant sound of birds, the sun, and the true feeling of just being with each other.

  “Hey,” Reid whispered. “I was thinking of taking a trip back to Paris. Do you want to come with me?”

  “Really? When?”

  “The end of next week,” Reid said.

  “You know I can’t go then. I promised I would go with Ashton to the charity ball in England. I cannot go back on my word.”

  “Ashton?”

  “Lord Archer,” I said.

  “I know who Ashton is,” Reid huffed. “It just seems a little bit cozy to be calling him Ashton.”

  “Stop it, Reid.”

  “Stop what?”

  “You are going to ruin this.”

  “Don’t go with him. Go with me instead. We can see all t
he places you have always wanted to see. Besides, we will be together,” he said, pulling me close again, “like this.”

  “Reid, I cannot go. I made a promise.”

  “So what about me? What about the promise of our friendship, Trinity?”

  “Reid, are you inviting me to Paris to keep me from seeing Lord Archer or because you really want to go to Paris with me?”

  Reid became quiet, too quiet.

  “Both,” he finally said.

  “You can’t want me to live a life then expect me not to live it. You can’t tell me to find someone to love me, and expect me to never find it. You can’t tell me you don’t want me—”

  “I never said I don’t want you,” he rebutted in a harsh tone. “I just can’t give you what you deserve.”

  “How do you know?” I asked. “You have never tried.”

  Reid shut down, stony silence. I imagined steel bars slamming down around his heart, closing it off like a steel vault at FortKnox. Whatever it was that haunted Reid, made him run from true feelings, I did not know, but I wanted to know. I truly wanted to help him.

  “Reid, do you like talking with me, kissing me and touching me?”

  “Yes, Trinity.”

  “Do you like spending time with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And have you ever talked with or spent time with any woman before?”

  “No, not like you.”

  “What happens? I mean, what happens inside of here?” I asked, touching his temple with my fingertips. “When you start to kiss me, touch me, what happens?”

  “I want you, to take all of you, and make you mine. I want to protect you, keep you safe, then something changes. I start to lose control. I want to brand you, mark you, make you scream out in pleasure and pain.” He stopped talking.

  “And here?” I asked, touching his heart. “What do you feel here when you kiss me, touch me?”

  “The same, only hurt, regret, guilt, fear. Fear I will hurt you.”

  I placed my hand to his bulging crotch. “And here?”

  “Nothing but heat, fire and raging need for you.”