Knight After Night (9 page)

Jolie clung to the feral being that was Thoran, grasping every wild lunge he made; enthralled to the point of oblivion at their joining. Fully. Completely. With every rapidly increasing lunge he made. Then he tensed, arching into a bow of near impossible magnitude, thrashing in place. Buried deep in her flesh. All the while putting the longest, most keened sob she’d ever imagined into existence.

Jolie was still watching as he opened his eyes, capturing and imprisoning her with a look of complete awe across his features and an unblinking gaze from silver that looked wet-glossed with the patina of tears. He gave a last twinge, grunting with it before he fell. Right beside her.

Facts looked grimmer in the morning. With daylight on them. Which was another fact.

Jolie surveyed the cavernous room Thoran called a bed chamber from a perch on his huge mattress atop a high pedestal. The fireplace had gone cold but it didn’t matter. She could still sense and smell smoke. All she had to do was concentrate. Jolie stared at the pile of ash and watched it start to glow before quickly looking away. Facts were also uglier in the light of day, she decided.

Nothing about his chamber matched that description. The place looked like a display in a museum castle; like she’d seen in coffee-table sized books. It was grand, impressive and rich. Old money rich. Thoran had gathered a lot of priceless-looking objects to this chamber. It looked like Brussels lace adorned his canopy cover above her; a dozen paintings by Renaissance artists were arranged in groups along every wall she could see, four tapestries hung atop stone walls, faded by years of existence. And every bit of furniture including this bed, looked like something that cost a powerful amount of money to find and purchase. Of course he’d have the best. He’d had lifetimes to find it and pay for it. That was a major fact she was ignoring for the time being. It was much too grim and unbelievable.

Everything on her felt sore, replete, and completely satisfied. She was aglow with it in every naked inch. She wriggled her toes against white sheets of an unbelievable thread count and wondered at that fact. She’d never felt better in her life. There wasn’t a chance anyone would believe her, but it was true.

Just because there wasn’t any such thing as vampires didn’t mean she hadn’t just had the most stupendous night of her life with one. It had been so awesome in fact she instinctively knew there wouldn’t be a question of if he’d call and want a repeat date. It was a question of what on earth was she supposed to do now.

Someone knocked at the chamber door, from about a hundred feet away. The sound reverberated through the chamber.

“Come in?”

Her hesitant whisper felt loud and distinct. It must have been easily heard, if the heavy handle turning down on the door was an indicator. Four women bustled in; one carrying a tray, another holding what looked like a gown, while the last lugged an affair of poles.

“Good morn, Miss.”

Jolie nodded and pulled the satin cover to her chin and practiced ignoring the blood smears all over it. Blood. Dark brown and dried. It had been a hell of a night. Obviously.

“My name is Nancy. This is Agnes, Faith, and Emily. Emily? The tray.”

Jolie watched as the pole thing turned into a bedside table with a platform that would go over the mattress, and right atop her lap. Agnes placed the tray on it. Jolie was having breakfast in bed. The luxury stunned her. The cover was lifted, displaying bacon, scones, a fruit cup, possible yogurt, a cute pot of honey, and what smelled like coffee. All of which oddly turned her stomach.

“His Grace said not to waken you until after one. Well…it’s after one, and we were beginning to get worried.”

“In the afternoon?” Jolie’s voice rose. She’d missed her weekend class. Actually she’d missed two of them.

“His Grace said it was for the best. I’ve brought you a nice bit of brunch. And I’ll just give these drapes a bit of a heave.”

Light flooded into the room, causing immediate pain. Jolie cried and ducked beneath the covers.

“Oh dear. His Grace did leave instruction that you might be light sensitive. I’ll put the sun-blocking shades down. It’ll just take a moment…. There. The second duke suffered terribly from that condition. He had these put in every room. ‘Tis done now, Miss. You can come out.”

Jolie peeked.

“Why am I light sensitive?” she whispered.

“I’m sure you’ll need to ask His Grace that.”

“Where will I find him?”

“You’ll need to ask his man that.”

“Barnes?”

“Oh my, no. Barnes is his driver. You need to find Evan MacGruder. Evan’s His Grace’s personal man.”

“Like…a valet?” Jolie took a stab at understanding the workings of a high society titled Scotsman.

“More a man of all things. I’ll tell him to expect you. After you’ve eaten. Or would you rather bathe first?”

“A bath sounds pleasant. But…where are my clothes?”

“His Grace gave instruction to the laundress. I’m certain they’ll be ready by evening. There’s a wardrobe full of gowns for you to choose from. In the meantime, we’ve brought you a dressing gown.”

It was a robe. See-through as all get out, but still a robe.

“Where is my bath?”

“Right through here, Miss. It’s an alcove the fourth Duke had designed. It’s already poured and scented.”

Scented?

“Would you like us to stay and assist?”

“Uh…no.” Having servants to wait on her was totally abnormal. And embarrassing. That was another odd fact. It was also not happening. “I can manage.”

“His Grace said you were to have whatever you desired. Just ask. It will be provided to you.”

“Today’s paper?” Jolie asked.

“Emily? See to it.”

“Yes, Miss Nancy.”

A bit of bobbing happened before the second maid turned and walked across all that floor.

“How long have you worked for His Grace?” Jolie asked Miss Nancy, since she seemed to be in charge.

“All my life. And my mother before me. And my grand-mother before that.”

“You all worked for the same man?”

Nancy laughed. The others joined in. “Heavens no, Miss. The dukes trace their line back to James the Second, they do. Every generation is the same.”

“And nobody notices how well he ages?”

“We’re right proud of His Grace. He’s a verra handsome man. Has a presence. Rich. Presentable. Eminently eligible. And I’ll say no more on that particular subject.”

She must’ve noticed how Jolie’s eyes had narrowed and her chin lowered. Jolie felt trace anger getting pumped through her. Another oddity.

“His Grace said you’re to have the run of the castle. And the grounds. You just ask and whatever you need will be granted.”

“What if I want to leave?”

“You’ll need to speak with his man on that.”

“This Evan?”

“Aye.”

“Very good. You can go now.”

“We’ll just wait outside.”

The one called Faith placed the robe on the bed, then they all bobbed more curtsies before taking their leave, sending echoes of footsteps the entire time. It was too weird, and way too soon to ponder on all of it. Jolie took another look at the tray of food, felt her stomach roil, and turned away before she was sick. That was more odd fact. She was never sick and she never missed a meal. Well…rarely. She scooted to the side and slid down to the pedestal before moving down to the chill of the floor. Her toes flinched from the contact. That could be a good thing. Vampires didn’t feel elements, did they?

Maybe only new vampires had problems with sun sensitivity and chill. Thoran was probably an old vampire. He had the makings of old world aristocracy. Everything he said and did was a clue that she’d missed. Or discarded as too unbelievable. She truly was the little fool Lord Beethan had called her.

Jolie pushed the facts aside. It was much too soon. She was still aglow with Thoran’s touch. His essence. His lovemaking. He had reservoirs of energy to draw from, using his body and his movements to gain her pleasure more times than she could count. Making every one unique and amazing. It was like he was making up for lost time or something.

He might be a vampire but he was certainly skilled. Immensely so. Jolie blushed severely at all the thumb-sized bruises on her body. His Grace, Thoran Alexander MacKettryck thumb-sized. She headed toward the bathroom area, arrived there in less than two steps, which was another odd fact she didn’t want to deal with, then got another vast surprise. This wasn’t a bath. It was a sunken pool. With marble sides and clear, steaming water that smelled of passion and longing and nothing she could identify. The alcove was sided with windows. Floor to ceiling windows, shaded with an opaque screen that gave her a muted panoramic view of the countryside outside. And far below. Somber mountains. A dark blue lake with mist gracing the edges. Lots of green foliage.

Jolie dropped the robe to the floor and walked into the pool. Holy crap. The guy was amazing. Rich. Gorgeous. Built. Extremely agile and amazing in the sex department. It was forgivable if he was a tad macho. And he had great taste.
This
she could get very used to. She slid into the embrace of silken warmed water, looked out through the opaque shade and decided to worry over the rest of it later.

o0o

“If I’m not being held against my will, why can’t I leave?”

“His Grace gave specific instructions, Miss.”

“Call me Jolie. I’m tired of being addressed as Miss.”

“Verra well. Miss Jolie.”

Jolie sighed, long and loud. “How long am I to be imprisoned?”

“Imprisoned is a harsh word.”

“So?”

“Ahem. His Grace dinna’ give an exact time frame.”

“What did he give, then?”

“Instruction.”

Jolie sighed again, even louder. Evan MacGruder was evasive and stubborn. He was worse than talking to a recording. He gave her nothing of use. She scanned the walls of books going up two stories on all sides of the octagonal room called His Grace’s library, felt the awe again, and the itch to touch some of them, especially the First Editions.

“Instructions about what?” She returned to questioning the large, unbending Scot in front of her, standing with both hands on his hips, looking dashing in his kilt.

“You’ve the run of his entire household. And whatever else you want.”

“How long have you worked for His Grace?”

“I assumed the position upon the retirement of my father.”

“And his grand-father before you?”

“Actually it was my grand-mother’s brother. My Great-Uncle.”

“I see. And you never noticed how young and virile he looks?” Jolie was amazed she got the question out. Her blush was probably the same color as the dark rose gown they’d brought for her.

“His Grace ages well. As did his forebears, I might add. It’s clear from the portraits. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you the gallery.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve seen some of them.” Here were some more facts. Nobody knew anything. Nobody could help her. Except perhaps the guys at the other end of her transmitter that was at the bottom of the river. “So…since you’re so unhelpful, maybe you can answer this. Where is he?”

“His Grace is on assignment.”

“He has an assignment? From whom?”

“Lee Chen handles His Grace’s business.”

Now, they were getting somewhere. Jolie sharpened her eyes, felt the man’s heart rate increase as he realized his error, and ignored the why of how she knew that.

“Who is Lee Chen, exactly?”

“His Grace’s information technician.”

“Thoran has a computer geek? No way.”

“I’m unfamiliar with the term, Miss Jolie.”

“A technology specialist. One who deals in computers and technology related stuff. You know, instantaneously communicating with the world. That sort of thing.”

“Oh. Then yes. That is Lee Chen.”

“Take me to him. Maybe he has answers.”

“No one is allowed to see Lee Chen.”

“But I have His Grace’s permission to do anything, don’t I? I get to go wherever I want and see whomever I want. As long as I stay within the barbican walls, anyway. Isn’t that what you said?”

Homerun
. Jolie watched him gulp and couldn’t help the smile, grimacing as her own teeth scraped the inner part of her lips, drawing blood. Salty. Sweet. Jolie sucked at her injuries with a shiver of delight.
Odd fact. Don’t dwell on it.

He nodded finally and then walked past her. “If you’ll follow me?”

Lee Chen was Asian as his name suggested. He was a bit taller than her and looked like he was heading to a very exclusive and proper business office. He was clad in a gray pin-striped three-piece suit that looked completely incongruous against the stone backdrop of his office. He was also looking at her with a hint of hostility.

“Miss Jolie has requested to meet you.”