Rosaline

by Penelope Marshall

  Rounding the corner of the long hallway we came upon a door which William stood next to excitedly. "Ready?"

  "As I'll ever be," I replied in a soft voice.

  He pushed open the door to a room three times the size of my bedroom. "This is our room."

  "Our room," I echoed solemnly.

  "We can change anything you want. I just want you to be happy here," he said as he hurried to the windows and pushed the curtains open.

  I walked over to the bed and ran my fingers over the white comforter. "Our bed?"

  "Yes, once we're married, of course. I know how you feel about that whole sordid business. I don’t understand it, but I do accept it," he said as he stepped toward the door.

  "Where are you going?" I asked.

  "I want to give you some time to acclimate yourself," he said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

  I circled the bed and pondered its purpose in my new life. This was where I would have to lie down with William every night and do the things married people did. Not that I didn’t want to do the things married people did, but I wanted to do them with someone I loved. I guess I always theorized that marriage equated love, and that was why I wanted to wait. But as my own marriage neared, I knew my theory had to be false.

  Rosaline. Gideon's deep timbered voice breezed through my head.

  I plopped down on the bed and shook my head.

  Rosaline. The voice repeated.

  "Gideon?" I whispered.

  Don’t do this Rosaline.

  "Do what?"

  William walked back into the room, startling me. "Who are you talking to?"

  "Uh…no one…just talking to myself."

  With a raised eyebrow, he said, "Um…okay…did you want to have a look through the rest of the house?"

  Say no, Gideon urged.

  "No. I'll have the rest of my life to live here." I smiled insincerely as I stood and brushed by him.

  William trailed behind me as I made my way quickly to the front door.

  "Where to next?" he asked.

  "I think I'd like to go home, if you don’t mind. I need to chat with my father about a few things."

  A look of disappointment shrouded his face. Surprisingly, now that he was acting half-way decent toward me, hurting his feelings was not as enjoyable as it once was.

  Making my way to his car, I slid in before he could open the door for me. Letting him do chivalrous things would undoubtedly encourage his feelings, which was not something I desired.

  The drive back to Covington was long and awkward. William had changed the rules on me. Before this morning, I knew I would be miserable being married to a man I didn’t love, but the fact that I had no choice in the matter made it an easier pill to swallow. Now that he had changed, I wondered if I would have to change, too?

  Would I have to be a loving wife? Would I want to? What about Gideon?

  I needed to speak with my father. He would be honest when I knew no one else would. He would tell me what was best for me and leave the coven's interests aside. William pulled into the arched driveway and got out of the car. He came over to my side and opened the door for me.

  "Thank you," I said as I stepped out.

  He took my hand and walked me to the door.

  Standing over me, he said, "Rosaline, I need you to make an effort, just as I am trying to make one."

  Looking down at my feet, I nervously rubbed one against the other, hoping I wouldn’t have to answer. He slid his finger under my chin and tilted my head back as he bent down to meet my lips.

  Don't do it, Rosaline, the voice softly pleaded.

  I took a small step back and shifted my face away from William, opposing his advance. His hand fell to his side as he straightened his posture, visibly embarrassed by my rejection.

  "I'm sorry, William. This is just too much too fast," I apologized, as I moved toward my door.

  A sharp tug at my arm whipped me around and pulled me toward his body. His lips were pressed to mine before I took my next breath.

  The front door flung open as my father stepped out onto the porch. "Is everything okay, Rose?" he asked, crossing his arms.

  I pushed away from William and ran into the house, leaving both men on the porch to sort things out among themselves. Tears streamed down my face as I climbed stair after stair to my bedroom.

  THE HUNT

  "Rosaline!" my mother called as I ran past her bedroom door.

  Stopping would mean I would need to throw on a disguise and play the part of Stella Winthrop's prim and proper daughter. I had no strength to be someone other than myself at this moment, so I continued to my room and sat on the floor next to my bed.

  I could hear William revving his car engine in the driveway, I was sure he was angry. His feelings were just another thing I would have to worry about later.

  I raised my head when a knock came at my door. My mother was clinging onto my father's arm as they stood at my door.

  "What happened?" my father asked.

  "Nothing," I replied, my voice cracking through my tears.

  "Rosaline Winthrop. I know that to be a lie. I can see your tears from here," she said as she let go of my father and made her way to the patch of floor next to me.

  She cinched up the unforgiving material of her dress in order to sit on the floor next to me. Her valiant attempt at normalcy induced a slight chuckle from my father, in turn enticing a smile from my lips.

  My mother smiled softly and rested her hand on mine. "My darling Rosaline, I know you are not excited about this wedding. But it is tradition. Hundreds of years of tradition."

  "But why aren’t pure-bloods allowed to pick their own mates? Why are only the turned allowed? What makes them so special?"

  My father walked toward us and sat on the floor next to my mother. "Pure bloods are special. We aren’t sullied by remnants of humanity like the turned are. We must keep ourselves pure and mate with our own kind."

  My mother's gaze extended to the floor behind me. "What is that, Rosaline?" she asked, pointing at the drawing that was under the bed.

  I reached under the bed and pulled it out. "It's a drawing of my wedding," I explained, handing it to her.

  She studied the tattered page as it lay on her lap. Her curled fingers moved to her eye, wiping away what I could only assume to be a tear since I couldn’t see her face.

  "What's wrong, my dear Stella?" my father asked, sliding the paper from her lap.

  He looked at the drawing for a moment. "Rosaline, why didn’t you tell us?"

  "I have," I replied sullenly.

  My mother looked up with tears in her eyes. "I just never listened."

  "It doesn’t matter," I said, twiddling my thumbs.

  "There is nothing we can do, Rose. The Dàil have signed this contract. It is expected," my father said.

  My throat tightened. "I know."

  My father reached over and took my hand. "You tell me right now, Rose. You tell me the truth. I will make a plea for you if you ask me to."

  My mother turned to him. "A plea? They would kill you, Gabriel."

  "Then you'd finally be rid of me, my dear, and you'd be free to marry of your choosing as well," he replied with a smile.

  She gasped. "Gabriel, I would never."

  "Oh Stella, we both know you wouldn’t have chosen me all those years ago."

  "That might be true, but I have spent over two hundred and seventy years with you, and I think I might very well have fallen in love with you," she announced.

  A smile fell across my face. In all my years, I had never heard my mother tell my father she loved him.

  My father laid my hand back on my lap and turned, cupping his palm to her cheek. They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment before my father leaned in and ever so softly kissed her. The moment was tender, and showed me that maybe, eventually, I could have that with William.

  But what if maybe and eventually never came?

  My father turned to me again.
"I'm going on a hunt, Rosy. Come with me?"

  "Yes, go with him," my mother agreed.

  "You want me to go with him?" I asked my mother in disbelief, as she has always abhorred the idea of her daughter hunting for dirty wild animals in the forest.

  "You need some time with your father. Maybe some time out in the cool night air will clear your head," she replied, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

  My father stood and handed me my drawing as he helped my mother to her feet. "I'll be outside in five minutes."

  "I'll be there." I wiped the moisture from my cheek. "I was getting hungry anyway."

  "I think the Dàil should create some sort of drive-thru option. I mean, all this hunting gets tiring when we have a plethora of options just walking up and down the street," he joked from the door.

  "Gabriel Winthrop." My mother slapped his arm.

  "What?" he asked innocently as he closed the door behind him.

  Giggling to myself, I shook my head as I took one last look at the drawing, then stood and laid it on my nightstand.

  Rosaline, I want to see you. The voice floated through my head.

  I shook the voice from my head, rationalizing that I must be going mad, as I threw on a torn pair of jeans and combat boots. Ready and out the door with two minutes to spare, I leaned against my father's truck waiting for his deadline to pass before I took off on my own. The evening breeze blew through my hair, carrying the sweet scent of the Davidson family's blood, from a mile down the road.

  Mr. Davidson must've been into his wife's pies lately since his blood smelled exceptionally sweet this evening. My fangs grew as my mouth watered for a small sampling, but my father's footsteps darting down the stairs jarred me from my thirst induced daze.

  "I'm here," he called from the door.

  "You're lucky. I was just about to leave you." I laughed.

  He took in a deep breath. "Ah, Mr. Davidson's been eating pies again, I see."

  I chuckled, tapping my finger to my temple. "Great minds…great minds."

  The truck ride definitely took longer than a quick jog to the forest, but it gave us time to chat, and chat was what we did. Plus, we didn’t have to carry a dead carcass back home, dripping blood all over mother's hardwoods.

  My father cleared his throat. "So he kissed you."

  "Seems so," I replied, looking out the window.

  "So?"

  "Eww, Daddy, I am not answering that," I said, slapping his arm.

  "What is with you and your mother slapping my arm?" he asked, rubbing his arm like an injured animal.

  "You're almost three hundred years old. Be a man," I teased.

  We both chuckled.

  "So, when I marry William, then what? What happens to our family?"

  He set his elbow out the window and rubbed his chin. "Well, then our family gets absorbed into their coven since they are the older family, and we'll fall under the McAllisters rule."

  "You lose all your power as the head of the Winthrop coven?"

  "I mean…it's a little more complicated than that, but essentially, yes."

  "Then what's the point?" I asked, confused by the logic.

  "Tradition, I suppose." He shook his head as he turned onto the dirt road leading to our usual hunting ground.

  "That's stupid," I blurted out.

  He chuckled. "I do believe you're right, my little Rose."

  I shook my head. "So, I'm marrying a man who will take all of your hard work and make it his own?"

  "Okay. Let's stop reminding me," he said, parking the truck next to the edge of the forest. "Together or separate tonight?"

  "Do you mind if we hunt separately? I kind of want some space."

  "I understand." He nodded as his hair blew in the evening wind.

  "An hour?" I asked.

  He laughed. "It'll take you that long?"

  "I just wanted to give you a fighting chance, old man," I replied with a wink.

  "I'll show you 'old man'." And in an instant he was gone, disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

  "Cheater!" I yelled as I started my foray into the woods.

  The creatures of the night had already begun their blitz attacks on their unsuspecting prey, and I would also need to catch my keep for the evening. But I bided my time in order to enjoy my momentary freedom to think.

  Rosaline, I'm here. The soft voice whispered.

  Mid-step, I leapt up into a nearby tree to survey my surroundings.

  "Where are you?" I yelled.

  Rosaline come down from there.

  "If it's you, Gideon, show yourself to me. I want answers. Answers only you possess."

  Come down and I will, my sweet Rosaline.

  "My? You speak the word my so easily, as if I am already yours. But how can I be yours, when I know nothing of you, sir?"

  But you know my name.

  "How do I know you to be truthful?"

  Don’t you trust me, Rosaline?

  "Trust? Strangers hiding in the darkness offer no such thing," I hissed.

  My sweet Rosaline.

  "Stop claiming me. I know nothing of your soft embrace, or the taste of a sweet evening kiss. How can I be yours if I know none of this?" I asked as I effortlessly jumped down from the tree, convinced I was going insane.

  "A soft embrace and a sweet kiss are simple enough, my dear," a shirtless Gideon said as he stepped from the shadows.

  His brown hair glistened as he passed a sliver of light that peeked through the canopy of the forest, courtesy of the silver moon. My eyes widened, pouring over every ridge and valley that worked together to form his olive-toned muscular physique.

  Leaning against a tree, he smiled as he gazed intently at me, as though he were surveying a prize to be won.

  "What do you want from me?" I asked softly, his mere presence filling me with anxiety.

  "Why, you of course, my sweet Rosaline," he replied, pushing his shoulder from the tree, inching his way toward me.

  I stepped back. "Stop right there. How do I know you're even real? I have done nothing but question my sanity since I've met you."

  He smiled. "How long do you want to play this game of cat and mouse, Rosaline?"

  "Until I can be sure I'm not the mouse?"

  "That would be quite the gamble," he said, disappearing from sight.

  "Wait. Don't leave." I exhaled, stretching out my hand toward the last place he stood.

  The calming smell of a familiar fragrance drifted past me as warm skin settled on my shoulders, tugging me in the direction of its owner.

  A slight gasp escaped from my lips as my back pressed against warm flesh. "Is this real enough for you, Rosaline?" he whispered in my ear.

  Melting into his arms, my other senses clamored for a turn with the chance encounter.

  "Who are you, Gideon?" I breathed.

  "Who do you want me to be?" he asked, raking my hair off to one side as I instinctively tilted my head in the same direction.

  He brushed his lips across the silky thin flesh of my exposed neck. "My Rosaline."

  "Why are you so confident, that you would call me yours?"

  His lips separated and as he spoke, his words felt like a soft breeze blowing gently past my ear. "Do you deny what you feel at this moment? A connection so strong you'd allow a stranger access to your neck."

  I turned to him, searching for answers. "Then tell me, why our connection is so strong?"

  "You wouldn't believe me. Not yet, anyway. Give me time to show you."

  "How much time?" I asked anxiously, wanting to know everything he knew.

  He placed his palm on the back of my neck and leaned in. "That's up to you."

  "Rosaline!" My father's voice echoed through the trees.

  My eyes opened to nothing. Once again, Gideon had left me to ponder his words alone.

  My father broke through the darkness. "Rosaline, there you are. Did you catch anything?"

  I panned the trees. "No…it got away."

  "Lucky for you, thi
s old man caught two large stags. Enough for our house and the rest of the coven to share," he boasted.

  "Two stags…" I echoed, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

  "Are you okay, Rosy?"

  Shaking my head clear of the last few minutes, I turned my attention toward him, "Yes, I'm great. Let's go see these two supposed stags."

  "Supposed?" he blared, laying his arm across my shoulders.

  I looked back one last time at the spot where Gideon and I had been standing.

  Goodnight, my sweet Rosaline. Gideon's voice filtered through my head.

  Goodnight. I replied with my thoughts.

  WILD WIND

  Two days later…

  "Rosaline!" Mother called from the end of the hall.

  "Yes, Mother?"

  "Are you ready?"

  I took one last look in the mirror, flattening out my black, semi-formal, sheath dress. We were headed to the McAllister's estate, Wild Wind, for a baby shower. Both covens were to attend and celebrate the pregnancy of Clare, William's older sister.

  Having grown up with Clare, I thought of her more as a sister than a friend. Since her marriage to Henry Whelan last year, I hadn’t seen much of her. They moved to his seaside estate in Savannah shortly after the wedding.

  "I'm ready, Mother!" I called out, cautiously walking down the hall in a pair of stiletto heels.

  She met me at the bottom of the stairs wearing a black boat neck statement gown, her hair in a perfect French roll. "Darling, you look lovely," she said with her arms out, ready to receive a hug.

  I obliged, wrapping my arms around her small waist, pressing my cheek to hers, "Mother, I feel slightly underdressed compared to you."

  "Everyone is slightly underdressed compared to me." She laughed as she pinched my chin between her fingers. "Are you going to leave your hair down like that?" she asked critically, running her fingers through the ends that hung past my waist.

  I sighed and decided to change the subject. "How long before we leave?"

  "Your father should be home shortly. There was word of an outlier killing humans in South Carolina. He went to take care of it," she replied, pulling away toward the mirror to reapply her cherry red lipstick.