by Claudy Conn
“I am as always your loving brother…”
Maxie held the letter tightly in her fisted hand. He was gone, but she read the last line again.
She had been with him, felt, saw his concern. She stared up at the sky, breaking away from what had almost been a trance.
What was going on? What did he want her to know about herself? It was something he knew and she did not? Why had her parents done this? What were they keeping secret from her? They had to answer her questions now, but why was this all so oddly familiar? Had she foreseen this moment in some forgotten dream? Had she felt this moment’s approach?
Maxie looked across the green pastures and watched the peacefully grazing horses. They were lovely creatures, innocent and apart from man’s intrigues.
Trouble, though, blighted the view.
~ Nine ~
THE BURGUNDY VELVET drapes were drawn tightly against the red hues of the setting sun. Lamia could no longer tolerate any indirect sunlight. Odd that, she thought as she paced the Oriental rug in the library of the house she had leased to be near the Reigate estate. Avoiding direct sunlight had always been necessary, but until recently she thought she had mastered the problem of indirect daylight…
Never mind! She would work on that later. Now, other things intruded, demanded her concentration. A real dilemma had cropped up, banishing all lesser problems.
Woburn House had been an ideal find. She had leased it for one year because of its proximity to Reigate. It had quite a vantage point, with Julian Talbot’s estates only a few miles to the south. Her location was ideal in every single way, yet nothing was going right!
Julian! Everything she did revolved around thoughts of Julian. She needed him so badly she felt her body ache beyond control. She had never needed a man the way she needed Julian Talbot and he … he didn’t even like her!
She found herself in a constant frenzy and hunger. The last girl, the flower girl, should have satisfied her for weeks, but now, all she felt was ill…very ill.
Something was wrong. She needed to return to her own establishment, to her earth, her stones. Something was wrong…and she needed to return to DuLaine.
DuLaine was her safe haven. She had established it and maintained it over the centuries. It gave her background; no one lived long enough to investigate the ongoing story of relatives living abroad. She put in an appearance just often enough…came back after years of being away as the new young namesake and heiress, bringing along an older woman to play the part for a few months before Lamia laid the poor lady to rest.
She had long ago learned the knack of managing those around her. Now, however, everything was confusing her. Now, she found herself moving in circles, wringing her hands. She noticed Shamon outside directing the gardener. Dearest Shamon always knew what to do. He was most certainly a beloved creature, and she treasured him, but it was nothing to what she felt for Julian Talbot.
The question remained: what to do next?
She needed to go home, but she couldn’t leave without first seeing him, flirting with him, putting the aura of herself in his busy brain. Yes, but would she be able to do that? Thus far, he appeared immune to her flirting. He had resisted all her attempts at seduction. What other means did she have to use at this juncture?
She was running out of time. Why, though, did she feel this way?
Why was she running out of time? Was it the upcoming wedding? Perhaps, and yet she felt there was another reason.
Time was hers, had been hers; time was forever. Why then this urgency?
She felt like a foolish schoolgirl, but she was no schoolgirl. She felt dazed and confused, weak and threatened. She wanted him to love her. Foolishness. Perhaps now was the time to make him love her?
Her dreams were like memories. She saw her mother and father dying…remembered their deaths in vivid detail in her dreams. This had to stop! Hers was the power!
It was time to use the power that was hers alone.
She would bring Julian Talbot to his knees. He would worship and adore her.
She could break that strong will of his and make him her own. She could use her power to accomplish it in just one night, but something stopped her. Something about him stopped her. She had tried to override his will the other night, but he had managed to walk away.
She had told herself that he had been out of reach. She had told herself she had not really tried hard enough. She had told herself many things, but the fact stood out that he had walked away and no other before him had ever done that when she had called them to a stop. What kind of man was this?
She was running out of time, in a world where time belonged to her… Why—what was happening to her?
Lamia’s gaze shifted over Shamon’s youthful body as he worked outdoors. He was a fine, fine boy. He was a comfort to her, and she sighed as she turned away from him. At least Shamon was hers to keep.
She needed to return to her ‘safe haven’. She needed the home she had designed all those years ago. There she could rest and recoup her strength surrounded by her sacred stones. There she could use the things she needed to heal herself—and she needed healing!
Her present weakness was in part because of Shamon and the flower girl incident. He had been brooding, making sad eyes at her so that she found herself wanting to placate him. Finally she came up with the idea of giving him something special—she gave him the honor of sipping her blood, as she had so long ago when she found him dying in the gutter.
It was good, it was right; it ensured him longer years, additional youth, more time on earth before his human years turned him into an old man.
Lamia had been pleased to honor him in this way. She was very fond of Shamon and had always intended to do this when he matured just a bit more.
At any rate, she took him to her bed, and finally he was his old happy self. That was how she liked him … happy. Odd that—she had never been concerned about any of her servants’ ‘feelings’ before Shamon.
However, the net result was that she felt depleted. She shouldn’t feel this way, but she did. She needed to return to her designated home and enter the ‘chamber’…cover herself with her stones, perform the ritual.
Therein lay the problem. DuLaine Castle reposed in the New Forest. It was an exquisite parkland estate, ever ready for her arrival with or without guests. It housed a full staff, as it had for centuries. None of these servants questioned the erratic comings and goings of their mistress. She was, after all, beautiful, wealthy, and an aristocrat.
Many of these servants were scarcely able to glimpse her on the rare occasions she was in residence.
Long ago Lamia had accumulated unimaginable wealth and set up her ‘ancestral home” to accommodate her needs. She created a long line of stately DuLaine ancestors, acquired and installed the necessary portraits. The DuLaines appeared a private, mysterious crew of aristocrats to the locals and even to her peers, and Lamia was able to continue her lifestyle very well.
No one questioned her age or her lifestyle, saying only that she was ‘volatile and eccentric’. It was well known that unlike the rule of the day, the DuLaines passed on their estate only to their female namesake…
It was to DuLaine—she had to get back to DuLaine!
~ Ten ~
MAXINE HAD RUSHED headlong towards the house, shouting for her mother as she took the short steps to the front door. Inside she burst into the morning room, where she found her mother seated with some knitting.
“Hush, child! I am here. Whatever has you in such a frenzy, shouting and jumping about like a hoyden?”
Maxie waved the letter from her brother as she confronted her mother. “This, Mama, this!”
“Well, come then and show me what ‘this’ is,” Delia Reigate answered softly. She knew. It was Daniel. She felt it. She put down the pretty white shawl she had been knitting and patted a place beside herself, but Maxie was in no mood to sit.
“Apparently, Mama, there is something I should know? Apparently there is some
thing you have kept a secret from me that directly concerns me!”
“You are angry, and perhaps you are right to feel angry, but you must realize, my darling, that if we kept you in the dark about anything, ’twas for your own good.”
“No, Mama. Not for my own good.” Maxine handed her mother the letter. “Daniel thinks I should be told, that I should have been told long before now. He thinks I am entitled to know whatever it is he has promised you not to tell me.” She was nearly shouting again.
Delia Reigate held her son’s letter in her hand but didn’t even glance at it. She knew already that Daniel was distressed. She looked away. “’Tis a very difficult thing.”
“Why? You and Papa have always taught me to rely on the truth. I believe in truth. Face it head on, Papa always told me. Truth is a principle not to be toyed with but to live by…what is this secret, Mama?”
“Yes, truth…but we were waiting…being cautious…”
“Do not play these games with me, Mama! Tell me, tell me now what is it you have kept secret about me. I have a right to know.”
“Your father and I are still not convinced that it is the correct thing to do.”
“Correct thing? You don’t have a right to keep it from me.” Maxie shook her head and then her finger. “I have always known I am different very different from my friends…now you will tell me why.”
“It isn’t so cut and dry.”
“It is to me. You have denied that I am different, but I am…something exists in me and in Daniel…”
“You are about to be married—”
“And should I go to my husband with secrets?” Maxie was now losing control as her hands swept the air.
“There are some truths he need not know.”
“Absurd! I won’t keep secrets from Julian. Truth, Mama…give me the truth.” Maxine’s outrage overrode all else. “Secrets become lies, Mother, and lies of this magnitude are what kill. Don’t you see that?”
“Yes, in a way I do, but I must speak with your father…”
Maxie turned her back on her mother and moved to the fire. Her mother reached out her hand. “Darling…don’t you see, all we want is to protect you?
Maxie did not turn to look at her. “From what, Mama, from what?”
“From yourself.” Delia sighed.
Maxine spun around to stare at her. “What can that possibly mean?”
“I need to discuss this with your father. He will be home in two days…”
“Danny says I am in danger now, right now, Mama. He says that I need to know what I am in order to protect myself.”
Delia frowned. “We will wait for your father.”
A knock sounded, and Kettles opened the door slightly to announce, “The Lady Lamia DuLaine.”
* * *
The prince grimaced on hearing Queen Aaibhe’s call to return to the palace. When he entered her chambers and saw her table laid out with a tea setting for four, his bright silver eyes narrowed curiously.
“My queen…” He inclined his head.
“You sister is at it again. I thought we might all take tea together and you could remind her that she is no longer a flighty child but a princess who owes her name a good deal more decorum,” Aaibhe said casually.
Breslyn was surprised. The queen had taken a great deal of his sister’s education in etiquette upon herself when his parents had been killed in battle all those thousands of years ago. He rather thought something else was at work here, but other than raising a brow, he only said, “And what has she done now?”
“She has been flirting outrageously with more young trackers than she should and keeping their minds off their purpose.” The queen’s eyes were alight with amusement, and Breslyn assumed she was not really angry. What then was this really about?
The door opened at his back, and his queen said, “Ah…Aida…Ete.”
Breslyn turned his head. Ete was Aida’s dearest friend, and they were always to be found together, even though they were complete opposites. Aida was wild to a fault while Ete was a petite, gentle, demure, and sweet princess. Breslyn was very sure the young princess had a crush on him. He always kept her at a distance.
“My princesses…sit…sit, enjoy your tea, and then we will speak about matters that occupy my interests,” the queen said softly.
Aida dropped a kiss on her older brother’s cheek. “Bres, are you coming to the Pavilion dance? You could escort Ete…she won’t let anyone else take her, and I do so want her to come,” his sister said as she plopped into a chair at the round table. She was a tall, ethereal blonde much in Breslyn’s likeness.
Ete, whose long lashes hid her brilliant eyes, slipped a hand to move her waist-length hair away as she sat. She lowered her gaze so that she did not have to meet his glance. “Stop it, Aida,” she said in shocked accents. “What an awful thing to do to your brother. He has better things to do than to escort his sister’s friend to a silly dance.”
Breslyn’s compassion immediately came to Ete’s rescue. “Nonsense! I can think of nothing I would like to do more. I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you, Ete…much like a brother…”
Ete’s expression went from brightly happy to non-expressive. She looked into her lap as she said, “You are most kind, Breslyn. I should like that very much.”
All the while the queen of the Seelie Fae was looking very well satisfied, and it was at this point that she said, “Breslyn, I have decided it is time that I appoint Princess Ete to our Council. We could use another ally…could we not?”
Breslyn looked up in surprise. “Really, but…” He looked at Ete, and it occurred to him as it often did that she was a ravishing beauty—a child, but quite a beauty. “…so young to be thrown in with the lions…my Queen?”
“Oh, I think my Ete can handle herself. She is after all my cousin, my bloodline. No one can object, and I do believe we are approaching an era where her vote will be helpful.”
“You are always wise in these matters,” the prince answered.
“And as you say, our Ete is still young. I can count on you to watch over her during her transitional period?”
“Of course,” returned the prince.
“Excellent…now…eat…these are my favorite little cakes. I am sure you will enjoy them as well.” The queen turned to the prince and quietly asked, “And, Breslyn, what news of the beast?”
“She is on the move…to her estate,” he answered softly.
“Ah,” was all the response he got as she returned her attention to Ete and Aida.
And the prince wondered just what his queen was up to in regards to Ete, for there was something stewing about in her busy brain, of that he was certain…something that would play out perhaps in years to come…
* * *
As Kettles announced her and showed her into the morning room, Lamia felt a wave of dizziness. And then she was struck with a sense of nausea. Nausea? How could this be? It was not possible. She had not felt any nausea in hundreds of years. What was this? Had it been the daylight’s affects? Very little else had the power to do this to her. What other explanation could there be?
She managed to get herself under control as she swooshed past Kettles. She had the grace and elegance of many lifetimes at her disposal and used it to maneuver herself unobtrusively away from the large panoramic window.
She had hoped Julian would be there…and was devastated to discover he was not. She had been so sure he would be. She had seen him in her mind sitting right here, laughing, blue eyes twinkling.
And something in this house was making her ill, very, very ill. “Ladies,” Lamia managed to say, “how fortunate I am to find you both at home.” She had to get control of herself. She forced herself to go on. “I was afraid dear Maxine might be off jaunting about with Julian and I wouldn’t have the opportunity to visit with her before my trip home to DuLaine.”
Maxine could scarcely hide her surprise. Here was the problem sitting in her home pretending to offer friendship.
What was she up to? Maxie had the sensation that the DuLaine’s temper was on the edge, so what was she doing here?
This was all about Julian—Maxie was certain the woman wanted Julian and would stop at nothing to get him.
A cold shiver of dread spiraled around Maxie’s spine, and she glanced at her mother, who reached out and touched her hand.
Delia Reigate’s instincts were on the alert. She disliked the dangerous, amber-eyed creature. There was no doubt in her mind that the woman had come to see Julian, only Julian. There it was. Perhaps that was all it was. Perhaps this was all that had been making her so uneasy these past few days, this woman residing so nearby…and obviously interested Julian Talbot?
“Ah.” Delia breathed softly. “I did not realize you and Maxine were so well acquainted.” She met the DuLaine’s gaze and held it with a challenge.
Lamia stiffened. “Actually, we are not, but it is something, as your neighbor, I mean to correct, especially as I claim a dear, very dear friendship with Julian.”
Battle lines were being drawn. Oh yes, no weapons in play, but words and tone and oh so much meaning.
Maxie laughed out loud, and that laugh displayed her derision. This ended now. She meant to insult the creature and keep her away from Reigate if she could.
DuLaine directed a startled look her way.
“How fortunate for you,” Maxie drawled. “Very few claim Julian’s friendship, though many might claim his acquaintance.” Maxie’s eyes spoke volumes. The DuLaine was here to make mischief, but Maxine would not allow her to do so.