Immortal Wounds: Book #1 in the Immortal Wounds Vampire Series-Paranormal Romance/Vampire Romance/Romantic Fantasy (24 page)

“When Mr. Marcus leaves for his meetings, Miss, you’ll need something to pass the time away. He didn’t exactly say you couldn’t touch it now, did he?” Richard looked almost . . . devious.

“No . . . he didn’t,” I answered.

“Although, it might be a subject you may want to avoid bringing up.” He raised his eyebrow again.

I nodded my head in understanding. I stared at Richard, my mind spinning in a million directions.

“Well, now that that’s settled . . .” Richard rose from his chair. “Oh, I almost forgot. Charlotte asked me to let you know that she’s prepared a warm lunch for you when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Richard. Tell her I’ll be down in a bit.”

He bowed his head slightly before leaving me to my thoughts.

With some difficulty, I managed to remove the wrappings around my torso. I was ecstatic to see that the bruising had gone from purple to yellow. I was also able to twist my body . . . gingerly of course, without too much pain. “Bye-bye bandages!” I said happily. “At least something’s going right today.”

I looked outside the window and sighed. The sky was overcast. I could see a slight breeze blowing through the many oaks that surrounded the castle like a miniature army. I put my hand on the windowpane . . . the glass was cold. “Warm clothes it is.”

I showered, dressed, and headed downstairs as quickly as I could—I was hungry and my stomach was growling in agreement.

“How are you today, Dear?” Charlotte hugged me as I entered the kitchen. Marcus was sitting at the little table . . . sipping a cup of . . .
tea
?

“I’m fine Charlotte, and you?” I took a seat beside Marcus, shooting him a questioning look.

“Wonderful! I have a nice quiche that’s just come out of the oven!”

“Mmm. It smells good.” I smiled up at her.

Charlotte stood at the table with her hands in fists, resting on her hips. “Are you going to tell me that you’ve already eaten today?” she looked at Marcus with scolding eyes.

“Of course not, Charlotte, I’d love a slice.” Marcus flashed a brilliant smile Charlotte’s way.

“Uh huh…” she frowned skeptically at him before turning toward her pie.

I laughed under my breath.

Charlotte set our plates down in front of us, along with two glasses of juice.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She rushed over to a closet and took out a hand basket. “I’ve forgotten to get the potatoes out of the garden. We’ll be having Irish Stew tonight!” she mused. “Help yourselves to more if you’d like, dears,” she shouted over her shoulder as she rushed out the kitchen door.

“Marcus, how are you going to eat that?” I asked, as he broke a piece off with his fork.

“Just like you of course.” He took a bite . . . then made an awful face before he broke into laughter. “I can eat food if I have to . . . let’s just say it doesn’t stay down for long.”

I cringed a little. “Marcus—”

“Phoebe, stop.” He held up his hand to silence me. “I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

“No Marcus, it’s my—”

“It’s not your fault!” he interrupted again, his voice rising slightly. “You shouldn’t have to be afraid that your lover is going to kill you simply because you’ve sliced your hand open.” His gaze dropped to my newly bandaged hand.

“It’s fine. Richard took care of it,” I offered. “Thank you for sending him.”

“I should have been there to help you.” There was anguish in his eyes. “I’m sorry I frightened you. I’m sorry I . . . left you in need.”

Understanding washed over me. Marcus wasn’t just upset about how he reacted to my hand; he was upset because he left me in a state of passion. A state of passion he’d intended to fulfill. I blushed. “Perhaps another time?”

He took my bandaged hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the palm of it. He inhaled deeply. His eyes flashed with small specks of crimson. “Indeed; another time.”

I ate my lunch quickly, while Marcus carefully hid his portion in the trash bin. He was eager to take me on a tour of the castle.

There were fifteen bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms—a modern renovation; a grand dining room, several sitting rooms, and a magnificent library. There was also a music room that was adjoined to a well-lit ballroom. Marcus took this opportunity to twirl me around the highly polished floor a few times—I unfortunately tripped over my own feet.

“We’ll have to practice . . . if you’d like?” he said, spinning me around once again.

“I’d love to! I’ve always wanted to dance at a ball. You know, like a princess.” I blushed at the childish thought.

“Then a ball we shall have.” He smiled, as he whirled me around the floor once more. “You are
my
princess,” he said affectionately, brushing my cheek with a kiss.

I actually giggled. I felt as though Prince Charming himself was dancing with me.

We continued through the halls looking at artwork and items that gave new meaning to the word antique.

Richard was relocating the Monet at that very moment to my bedroom. Marcus was overjoyed that I’d taken such a liking to it and told me if there were any others I’d like to have, I only needed to ask. I mentioned the Renoir was a personal favorite as well, but I didn’t expect him to relocate all the paintings. The Renoir had a new home an hour later: beside the Monet.

It was late afternoon by the time we headed outside. The grounds were breathtaking, with rolling hills of green as far as the eye could see. There were flower gardens the likes I’d only seen while watching
Victory Garden
on PBS back home. Everything was immaculately kept. Not a leaf out of place or a withered flower in sight. Soft sounds of water trickling from nearby fountains added to the beauty of this wondrous place.

We ended up at the horse stables hours later. Marcus had at least twenty horses. All were unique in color, and all exquisite! I’d never seen such sleek, muscular horses in all my life; definitely show quality.

“Marcus, they’re beautiful.”

“Yes, I make sure they’re well taken care of. We use them on hunts.” He walked over to a caramel colored horse and stroked it gently on the nose.

I reached out to pet a stunning black Friesian.

“He’s one of my favorites . . . extremely fast, fearless, and surprisingly gently,” Marcus said as he came over and said hello to his friend.

“What’s his name?” I asked, standing on my tiptoes to nuzzle the horse on the nose.

“Rain.”

“Why Rain?”

“Because he likes the rain. I’ve never seen a horse that loves to run through the rain like this one. He almost dances in it.”

Rain snorted loudly, blowing air on the back of Marcus's neck.

“I don’t think he likes you talking about him,” I laughed.

“He can also be very ornery at times as well,” Marcus rubbed Rain on the head, messing his mane. They looked like old friends mucking around.

“You may have him if you’d like.” Marcus glanced my way, grinning.

I gasped. “Really? No. Really?” I was nearly jumping up and down. I had always wanted a horse.

He laughed. “Of course; I have many others. Besides, Rain is far too grand to be used on a hunt. I’d rather think of him taking you on quiet rides through the countryside.”

“Oh Marcus, I love him!” I reached over and nuzzled Rain again on the nose and got a very wet kiss back. I laughed excitedly.

I turned back to Marcus and threw my arms around him. “He’s wonderful. Almost as lovely as this . . .” I held up the ruby necklace he’d given me earlier.

“I’m happy you like it.”

“You don’t mind if I wear it, casually I mean? I couldn’t bear to take it off.”

“Wear it whenever you like.” He leaned over and kissed my lips softly.

I turned back to Rain and patted him on the neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boy.”

We walked back toward the castle. Marcus's arm was around my waist, holding me close. I was especially glad, for the air had gotten cooler and the sky carried dark, foreboding clouds. No way would I have wanted to walk across the “yard” alone.

We’d been having such a wonderful time; I hadn’t even noticed the sun had gone down. The stars were twinkling. There had to be thousands of them, dancing in the sky like little diamonds, trying to punch their way through the cloudbank that threatened them.

“Aren’t you worried about werewolves?” I asked, looking up at the moon. It hung directly overhead, as full as I’d ever seen it.

“No Darling. I told you. They do not trespass on my land. You’re safe here.”

I molded my body a little closer to him still.

A loud howl echoed off in the distance . . . although, it was not so distant.

Marcus stopped. He held me tight as he whirled around wildly looking for the source.

“Marcus, was that a . . .” I couldn’t say it, I was too afraid. I could feel my heart in my throat.

The howling was getting closer, and the pitch was changing. There were several howls now, all getting closer by the minute.

“There’s more than one!” I said in a panic.

“Phoebe, you need to do exactly as I say. I want you to run back to the horse stables . . . go back to Rain and stay with him; he can protect you!” Marcus held my face in his hands. His eyes were full of fear. “Do you understand me?”

“I can’t leave you . . . there are too many of them . . . you’ll be killed!” I cried.

“Don’t worry about me,” he kissed my lips quickly. “Now run.”

“Marcus . . .”

“Phoebe, run!” He shouted as he pushed me toward the stables.

I ran as fast as I could over the darkened path. I flung the stable door open, slammed it shut behind me, and locked it with a wooden bar. Just as the bar dropped in place, I peered through a crack in the door. Several shadows emerged from the trees, while something was approaching Marcus from behind.

I gripped the handle of the door tightly. Marcus didn’t see the one behind him. He was going to be killed! I couldn’t just stand here and watch. My heart pounded. Why wasn’t he turning around? Couldn’t he smell him? I was going out of my mind!

“Marcus behind you!” I screamed through the crack.

Marcus jerked his head in my direction;  and so did one of the wolves. I backed away from the door, stumbling over my feet. I fell in front of Rain’s stall. He was bucking wildly, all the horses were. His nostrils were flaring, in and out—hot breath escaping him.

I screamed, covering my ears—something had smashed into the stable door. The wood was splitting like a giant tree being cut down, one blow at a time. I scooted back across the floor, trying to put as much distance between the door and me. My heart pounded loud enough to drown out all noise from the horses, but not the sound of the door being attacked again and again. I screamed louder, tears already streaming from my eyes.

“Marcus!” I screamed, as the door was struck again. This time, a fragment of wood broke in. Large snapping teeth protruded through the small opening. I scooted back further, screaming frantically. My pounding heart amplified the loud growls and barking, amongst the horses hooves on the wood floor.

Rain bucked his hind legs against his stall door. The hinge broke free, sending it to the floor.