Count Basarab examined me with a penetrating gaze. He was most likely trying to read my mind. I, in return, was trying desperately to read his. His face was dark; I was not sure whether it was from the lack of light in the room or from anger. I held my ground, trying hard not to cower.
The baby whimpered and began to bunt for a breast. I cuddled him closer. He quieted. The silence was deafening. Suddenly, the count threw back his head and howled in laughter. “I see our little bird is ready to fly again! Come, my dear Virginia; by all means, join us,” he said as he put his arm around my shoulders and led me to the centre of the room. “I trust you are feeling better. Max informed us you were still exhausted from the birthing, so I gave orders that no one was to disturb you until you were fully recovered.”
The count’s last statement sent a shock wave of anger through me. “Max told you that?” My voice rose in resentment. “I have no idea why he would say such a thing. I never once indicated to him that I was ill. In fact, I have felt quite fine since the birth of our son, my dear Count. The only things missing from my life have been permission to care entirely for our son and to be able to mingle with our guests here ...” I glanced around the room and then returned my attention to the count: “And most of all, I have missed your company, my beloved Count,” I crooned.
The count looked questioningly at Max. Teresa moved away from the group to stand beside her father. “You must not be harsh with Max, my dear Count. He was only doing what he thought was best for Virginia. After all, childbirth is not easy, so I am told. Max felt she needed her rest.”
So that was it, I thought to myself. It had not been Max’s idea; it had been hers! I was furious! For the second time that evening opportunity opened its door to me. “Max felt I needed rest, Teresa?” I turned and faced the woman who had become my greatest adversary. “Or was this just a little ploy on your part to keep me away from the count, the father of my son?” Months of anger and resentment rang through my words.
“Oh my, oh my,” Aunt Emelia’s voice was quivering. She seemed confused. “Gracious me! This is so shocking. This should not be happening.”
“What are trying to imply, Virginia?” The nervous tension in Teresa’s voice was rather noticeable.
“You know exactly what I mean, Teresa. I have been as well as you are right now. Having a child is not a disease. Women do it every day. One does not have to rest for ...” I paused long enough to allow the next statement to drive home hard: “What length of time was I to be ill for, Teresa?” I inquired sarcastically.
Teresa appeared anxious. “I have no idea what you are babbling about, Virginia. My dear Count, are you just going to stand there and allow her to make such accusations against me, your wife?” Teresa grasped the count’s arm. I watched her squirm. What a sweet moment for me!
“Ah, Teresa, I feel you have some explaining to do here. I only gave the order that Virginia not be disturbed because Max informed me she was in need of rest. Obviously, Max was under your direct orders in this matter. Therefore, under these circumstances, I believe you do owe Virginia an explanation, as well as an apology for your needless interference!” The count turned to me and smiled most charmingly. Another sweet moment forme!
“I owe her nothing! Nothing, you hear! I owe her nothing!” Teresa snarled. “I will be taking my leave now.” She glared at me. “I have had quite enough of this company for one night! Your day will come, Virginia darling—you can bet on that!” Teresa’s voice reached a high pitch as she swept furiously from the room before anyone was able to stop her. At the door, she turned momentarily and threw me a look of pure hatred!
I ignored her threat and her look. I gloated inwardly, for I knew an open show of mirth would gain me nothing. What a victory! Teresa had lost her nerve and had managed to make a total fool of herself before the entire family. I was back in the game, and I felt I had just won—this round, at least. I turned my attention to the count. He was all mine—for now. Teresa might have manipulated things in order to keep me in my room for six days, but I had managed to beat her at her own game. Plus, I carried the trump card in my arms. I held out the child to his father.
“Would you like to hold our son, Basarab?” The words were spoken as smoothly as melting butter on a piping hot pancake. I felt no fear, at the moment. My adrenaline was running high after my recent taste of victory over Teresa. It ran so high, in fact, that I had dared to call the count by his first name. Either no one had taken notice of that, or maybe it was just that no one actually cared.
Count Basarab took our son from my arms and held him up for all the guests to see. He smiled at me. There was nothing sinister in his smile. It appeared to be full of passionate affection—a girl can dream, can she not?
~
The Count Basarab Musat walked with me to my room that night. Once inside, he shut the door. I felt his eyes studying my every move as I laid our son upon the bed. I turned and faced him. I had won one great victory tonight; I was willing to aim for another.
“Basarab?” I began, slowly. “I would like to ask you something important, something extremely important to me, and for our son.” I had made the habit, when speaking of the baby, to always stress the words our son.
The count gathered me into his arms. He seemed more relaxed than I had seen him for awhile. He gave me a look much the same as the one he had given me that night in the garden. It was as though he were always trying to put on a pretext of superiority for everyone around him, but here, with me, he was able to lower his guard and be the man he truly was, or maybe the one he desired to be.
“What is it that is so important to you and our son?” he questioned gently. My stomach fluttered as the words, our son, passed through his lips.
“I feel the baby would be better off if he were here with me. I would like his things moved into my room so that I may tend to his needs all the time. I am his true mother, and it is of the utmost importance for his security and happiness that we be together more, especially for his current emotional stability.”
I paused a moment. I was clutching at straws, hoping that I would be able to explain that last statement of fact to the count with sufficient proof to satisfy his curiosity, so he would grant my request.
“What do you mean by emotional stability?” The count looked puzzled.
“Well, I do not know how it is with your people, but in our society, the mother tries to spend as much time as possible with her infant. This builds a strong bond, plus it gives the child a sense of security. It is not wise for a child to be separated from the birth mother, especially one like me.”
I felt that if I convinced the count I was the only one who could really provide for the child’s well-being, I might be able to gain extra advantage over what I had already obtained this evening. I continued my line of reasoning.
“Not only am I able to bestow on him life’s nectar from my body, I am also able to nourish his mind with a love that no other could give—the love of his true mother, the woman who carried him inside her womb for nine months. It will be like the love your mother, Mara, bore for you. My love will give him strength, because he will be secure in my tender and compassionate care. He will have no worries; he will think only of pleasant things.
“I am asking you, my dearest Basarab, love of my heart ... for the sake of our son’s future ... do not separate us. Let me have him here with me before it is too late to change the pattern that may have already begun. I will be the one to hold him close when he hurts. I will be the one to whisper reassurances to him. I will suckle him, love him, and build in him a character that could only be likened to that of his father.
“I will teach him the human side of his existence, for he will need that before you send him out to meet this world. There are things I can instruct him on that you cannot.” I had thrown my high card on the table. Of course, the fact the Count Basarab had survived for centuries was of no consequence to me. In reality, there was probably nothing I could actually teach my son that his father
could not. Even though it appeared that the count had kept himself secluded from the real world over the years, some of our conversations had indicated otherwise. “Our son may want to be part of the action in the real world,” I added as an afterthought. “Maybe even take risks that you would be wary of. It would be good to prepare him for such things.”
I waited patiently for a sign of approval from the count. Had I been convincing enough for him to fall into my trap and allow the child to remain with me? The count laid his hands on my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. He gazed piercingly into my eyes. I knew he was searching for the truth. Would he find it? I prayed not.
Slowly he began to speak: “I do not understand you, Virginia darling. One moment you appear to hate me, yet in the next, I am the love of your heart. Which is it, my little bird, which is it? Love? Hate? Something in between, maybe?” The count tilted his head to the side.
“What do you think after all this time, Basarab? Of course I love you ... with all my heart. I adore you. I have given you a son. That is the ultimate sacrifice of love a woman can make for the man she loves.” I wondered if I sounded convincing enough. I decided to throw another trump on the table. “It is unfortunate for Teresa that she could not bear you a child, and I pity her for not being able to have this same bond with you as I have.”
“I know nothing of this kind of love that you describe, Virginia. If I may so boldly remind you of the facts, though, it was I who gave you the opportunity to bear my son. As for your love for me,” he waved his hand lightly in the air, “I wish I could consider your declaration of devotion to be an honest one.” He paused. “I would like to believe you, yet I am wary of your true intentions. After all, you did try to escape—on more than one occasion, too.”
“But not recently—not since I have realized where my heart truly lies—with you,” I answered quickly. “And all those times we spent together—not just in lovemaking, but in earnest conversations—did those hours not mean something to you? They did to me. They made me love and respect you even more!” I felt I had nothing to lose by reminding the count of those times.
“That still remains to be proven.” The count lingered a moment before continuing. “It is most unfortunate that my Teresa was not able to give me a child, but I have remedied that for her in the best way I could,” he added.
I noticed a faraway look in his eyes. I had dug deeply and touched some distant part of him, of this I felt sure. But the important question was, had I reached far enough for him to entrust our son to my care?
Why did he have to be such a difficult man to understand? Maybe I should tell him how easy it would have been for me to rid myself of his baby—a tumble down a stairway, or starve myself ... I decided against such a revelation. Ending the life of his son would have been the ultimate insult; surely my own life would have followed quickly behind it.
Basarab continued, “As for your request to have the baby here with you, I see no problem with that, for now. If you believe his well-being will be better served and that he will become a stronger man for it, then so be it. But you must remember and fully understand one thing—even though you carried him in your womb, he is my son, he is like me. He is not your average human. He will never fit into your world. He has my blood running through his veins; therefore he will never truly be yours—never! Be assured that there is absolutely nothing you will be able to do about it!” The arrogant Count Basarab had returned.
“And also remember—in the end, it will be me and my kindred who will teach him how to survive in your world. You must keep in mind that this is something we have become quite accomplished at over the centuries.”
I was not particularly daunted by the tone of his voice. How quickly he forgot that the child was half mine and that there was a chance he was wrong. Even though I felt I was scoring points in my game with the count, there was always that nagging voice inside me that kept reminding me of what a fool I truly was.
I nodded my head toward the count. “I understand this, and I accept it. I just want to be close to our son. I want to be close to you, as well, and so maybe, when the time is right ...” I reached up my hand and straightened the collar on his shirt, “maybe I could give you another son.” There—my final bait was laid before him.
I waited for the answer I hoped would come. However, disappointment cut through me, shoving my confidence to the pit of my stomach, as his next words were spoken in the all-too-familiar curt tone. “We will see, my dear Virginia; we will see. For now, I see no harm in having the baby’s things moved here. Teresa is not going to be pleased; however, after her disgusting exhibition tonight, maybe this will teach her a lesson about meddling in affairs that are not her concern.” He paused. “I must inform you, though, you are still to give Teresa full access to the child, anytime she desires it. Is that clear?”
I nodded, willing to agree to even this in order to have my son with me. My mind also clung to the fact that the count was displeased with Teresa’s behaviour—a possible gain for me? I wondered how long the child would be with me. Was it only until Teresa had been brought to heel? Was this man using me and the child as a means to tame his temperamental wife? The count paused at the door and directed his attention to me again.
“I almost forgot to tell you. The baby will be named on the eve of his second week of life. Do you have any ideas for a name?”
“No,” I answered. “I have not thought on that subject much, but I will. I had no idea that I would be allowed any input in the naming of my son.” Nor did I fool myself that any name I would think up would be considered. I wondered why the count had even bothered to ask me.
“Good. I will see you tomorrow night at supper, then. Max will be here soon with the baby’s belongings.”
I moved swiftly to the count and threw my arms around his neck in a passionate embrace before he could take his leave. “Thank you for this kindness you have granted me,” I whispered sweetly in his ear.
My lips sought for his and were rewarded in mid-journey. His tongue was like a match as it moved inside my mouth, searching for a place to ignite. And ignite it did, all of me. But physically I was not yet ready for more than this passionate embrace. Being aware of my present condition, I pushed gently against his chest.
“Soon, my love, I will be yours again, body and soul. We can fly together on the wings of a demon fire dragon as we have many times before.”
I slipped from his arms and stepped back into my room. As the door was closing, I caught a brief glimpse of Teresa hovering midway up the stairway. Her face was flushed with rage at the sight she had just witnessed. I wondered how long she had lingered there. I hoped it had been long enough to witness the count’s passion toward me, his willingness to greet my fire with his own.
I leaned against the door, breathed deeply, and smiled. I had won more than one victory this night—much more! I whispered a prayer of thanks to the God I thought had forsaken me.
My son whimpered. I walked over to the bed and gathered him into my arms. I hummed a lullaby to him, one I remembered my mother had sung for me when I was a child. He settled.
I smiled. There was hope—on all fronts!
Unexpected Offer
Chapter Twenty
Where do I run, where can I hide?
For now, my time I must bide.
Where do I turn, whom do I trust
The lady, old man, or the one I lust?
My game increases its tension, its play;
Will I ever again walk in light of day?
Should I heed the warnings freely given?
Is my desire for life too lustfully driven?
T he following evening, I heard a light tap on my door. I had just settled down after feeding the baby, and it annoyed me to be disturbed. I was extremely tired. The previous night’s events had drained more of my strength than I had realized. To top that off, the baby had been quite restless throughout the day, almost as though he were not sure whether he was to sleep or play; whether to follow
in Daddy’s footsteps or Mommy’s.
“Who is it?” I called out.
“Teresa.” There was a pause before she spoke again. “Please, Virginia; I want to apologize for my behaviour toward you last night. May I come in?”
Odd that Teresa should ask—her usual way was a light knock, a turn of the handle, and a grand entrance. I did not trust her after the recent events and knew I would have to be diligent for whatever her next move might be. I would be the biggest fool if I let down my guard for even one second.
“Yes, come in,” I finally answered.
I noticed the drawn look about Teresa as she stepped into the room. She turned her face to me, and the candlelight flickered over her. I gasped. Teresa’s face was covered with fresh cuts and bruises! Dark circles crowded around her eyes. Her skin was pale beneath the mottling. Her shoulders sagged. She walked slowly, hesitantly. Her usual vibrant beauty was nowhere to be seen. She appeared—old. But she was, wasn’t she?
“My God! What has happened to you, Teresa?” Sympathy for her condition prevailed over my common sense.
I slipped out of bed, hurried to her side, and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. I led her to the small table by the window and pushed her gently into one of the chairs. The trauma of seeing such a sight again made me forget, momentarily, what she was. It was as though time had erased my recent memories. We were just two ordinary women, friends who had experienced a terrifying situation together. She was a friend in need; I was the one she had come to for consolation.
“Him!” Teresa finally spit out. “He did this to me. Last night, after you accused me of fabricating your illness, he was infuriated. The Count Basarab Musat does not take lightly to being lied to. You, of all people, should remember that fact! You seem to think you have won this little game you are playing. You may believe you have captured his heart, but I warn you now as I have always tried to do—Basarab has no heart!
Night's Gift: Book One of the Night's Vampire Trilogy Page 21