[excerpt] (6 page)

Serina kissed his cheek. “Thank you for not sullying my reputation tonight. I’d love to have dinner with Raven and you. What should I wear?”

“Nothing comes to mind, m’lady, literally nothing.”

Serina slapped at his chest. “Lord St. James, please try to be serious for just a second. If you’re to begin wooing me, then I want to look ravishing for you.” She raised her eyebrows a few times in jest.

“What’s that, my wild rose? Begin wooing you? And here I thought I all ready had. I’ll have to work on my charm.” He kissed her again, long and deep, because he wanted
―
no needed to. He broke away and asked, “Do you have a gown?” almost afraid to after seeing her attire tonight. He realized the other women at the dinner would eat her alive if she showed up looking anything less than royalty. They were sharks, and she’d be fresh chum dangling off a hook in front of them. He’d seen the aftermath of such a frenzy when some poor woman was led into their little clique of self-righteous, pompous, duplicity and tossed out, looking worse than a two-bit strumpet without a quid in her pocket after an evening in the tunnels with a group of drunken sailors. “’Tis a formal affair. I’d rather pass on the evening, but my stature within the House of Lords states I must grace them with my presence.” He snickered alone. Serina didn’t bat an eyelash. “Raven shall have the pleasure of your company during dinner. Then afterward, you’ll be my dessert. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough.” A small smile curved her lips as she met his gaze. “I’ve never had need of a dress for such an occasion. I’ll have to see what I can put together.”

Lucian’s heart thumped with nervous agitation. In haste, he offered, “I’ll bring you a dress for the evening. And your favorite color is?”

“You don’t have to buy me a dress, Lucian. I’m very capable of dressing myself. Your offer overwhelms me.”

“Serina, let me do this for you, please? I’d really love the opportunity to dress you.” His innocent smirk changed to that a devil would envy. “Undress you, actually,” he whispered. “This is truly the least I can do for you.” Hands clasped, he pleaded to her to allow him this small favor.

Serina nibbled on her bottom lip. “Green. I think my favorite color is green. Or possibly purple. Red might be nice. I love the color of your eyes. They’re blue right?”

She’s color blind?

Humbly she added, “And you don’t need to spank me.” She snorted so loud Lucian jumped. “I mean thank me. I’d have done the same for anyone.”

“All of it?” Lucian asked, as he thought back only a short time ago to their time together in the carriage.

“My bedside manner, Lord St. James, is my best attribute,” she teased, as she brushed his silky curls from his face.

“No arguments there, luv.”

Serina started to crawl off Lucian’s lap when he grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him.

“I still owe you an escort down the stairs, m’lady.” With an awkward stance and her draped in his arms, he carried her to the bottom of the stairs. The uncomfortable bulge in his trousers would prove to be a constant reminder tonight would be long and lonely.

Lucian pressed his lips to hers once again in a hungry kiss. When he pulled away, he said, “Hopefully that one will hold me over for a bit, but I doubt it.” He set Serina down and whispered, “Look,” as he pointed to her couch. Duncan held Raven fast asleep in his arms.

“How long have you two been here?” Lucian asked overcome with guilt and embarrassment.

Duncan grinned. “Not long, Luce. She came over to Molly’s home to give you two a little privacy.”

More embarrassment, less guilt.

Lucian turned to Serina. “I will begin my wooing rituals in the near future. Sweet dreams, m’lady. Come on, my old man, let’s get our sleeping beauty home.” Lucian scooped Raven into his arms and carried her out the door.

Duncan held the carriage door open for Lucian and his sister. Once they were inside, he turned to Serina. “Good night, Dr. Spencer.” He bowed before climbing atop the carriage.

Forehead to the glass, Lucian watched Serina grow smaller with each step the horses took from her.

Serina stood at the edge of her lawn with one foot in heaven and her other foot dancing lightheartedly on earth as she watched her future roll off in the carriage. The sky dazzled her with stars. Each more brilliant than the next as they shimmered like tiny diamonds strewn across black velvet. The full moon’s glow replenished her energies better than the sun on a bright warm day. A simple grin graced her cheeks. What was this feeling that invaded her? Lust or love? Or was it just the heat and one handsome, gentle man with the most dreamy eyes she’d ever lost herself in?

Her merry thoughts faded as she worried over Lucian’s attacker. Even with the heat, shivers bit into her spine like the blustery March winds on a rainy day. Serina retreated inside and locked all windows and doors. She wasn’t sure at that point if it was easier to die from heat stroke or a vampire attack. Serina went with heat stroke. It seemed the lesser of the two evils.

Curled up in her bed, she lay quiet under her quilt, feverish and sweating, yes sweating, her knuckles woven into the quilt for a sense of security more than anything. She began to rethink the night’s events and was astonished with the outcome. She’d saved a very handsome, eligible man, his sister, and even gotten a dinner proposal. Not to mention her first kiss. She could still taste him on her lips and what a rare delicacy. Serina drifted off to sleep hoping to dream of the new man in her life, but her dreams were not so kind.

Chapter Three

The first dream of many began with strangers pointing accusatory fingers at her. “Witch...she’s a bloody murdering, whore of a witch. Kill her,” they cursed in unison.

Nothing like a good tongue lashing to get your blood to boil. “I am not a whore,” she cried out in her sleep, arguing with no one in particular. “Why wouldn’t you defend yourself against being a witch?”

The fact that she didn’t have a brilliant hypothesis irked her.

The rocks these heathens launched, as she hung on the wooden stake about to be crucified, filleted layers of her skin. It didn’t take long before her flesh resembled one of her autopsies, except she happened to be quite alive and very unappreciative of the pain. Her tormentor’s lifeless faces, with their eyes pecked out from their sockets, and necks ripped open, accused her of the one thing she prayed she was not. But in complete honesty, Serina had questions. How could she do the things she did, to heal the deathly ill or read people’s minds or adjust the weather? All right, she still had to work the kinks out of the weather. It never turned out as sunny as she wanted.

Serina didn’t have the answers, but those ruining her good night’s sleep did.

Witch.

At least they’re no longer calling me a whore.

“Whore of a witch!”

Dammit!

Serina’s dreams dragged her through the wee morning hours and ended when she awoke screaming. Her heart thumping loudly, Serina lay as still as the proverbial church-mouse, drenched. A none-to-subtle headache prodded her mind, and left her feeling as if she were up to her eyeballs in quicksand.

What the heck?

After a frantic few minutes, she’d figured out the culprit was dehydration. The previous evening depleted her. Roughly five feet away she spotted her destination; a nightstand with a water pitcher. The quilt went first. Serina dangled her feet over the bed and attempted to cross the room. Stepping onto the floor, she found the quicksand beneath her. With every step she took the deadly granules sucked at her, surrounded each toe and weighed her feet down. She pulled each leg up and placed it in front of her, in an attempt to walk, but her thighs burned and her toes turned into knotted cramps. The water pitcher may as well have been a mirage.

Her reflection in the looking glass, parched lips, cracked and bleeding stuck out better than a mad cow alone in a field tripping over its four feet. She ran a gentle finger across the rough flesh. Lucian wouldn’t want to kiss her today. She pouted and her lips split wider. Desperate, she lunged forward and grabbed the nightstand. She tried to lift the pitcher, but her arms felt like anvils dangled from each one. Pain riveted down her arms to her hands. She set the pitcher down to work out the cramps.
What the hell is wrong with me?
How humiliating would it be to die of thirst in her own home with a full pitcher of water smack dab in front of her? Then she realized if she died, humiliation would be moot. Trying a second time with both hands, she was able to pour the water, except a dark viscous liquid sloshed into the cup. The container and its contents tumbled over. Soured clots splattered like broken eggs on the floor. A burnt, coppery odor violated her little nose. Accustomed to the scent, she was certain blood painted her legs and feet. Serina’s last thought before blackness swallowed her was to aim for the bed.

****

The warmth of the morning sunrise which Raven usually enjoyed, today did a bit more than gently coax her awake, it lambasted her. Raven lay very still in her bed, wide awake and very much in misery. Her eyes clamped shut, streams of water seeped out the corners and ran off her cheeks soaking her pillow. Someone had to have snuck in and placed her head in a vice grip. She was beyond confident that at any moment her brains would burst through her nose, ears, and mouth. The mere idea of lifting her head to get a drink was out of the question. Raven tried to call for Lucian, but found both her voice and strength waning. She tried to give him a little mental mind push they often used for communication between them, but even that proved futile. Against better judgment, she attempted to climb out of bed. On borrowed energy, she flopped one leg at a time over the edge of the bed. She sat upright holding on to the mattress’s edge with all her might. She tried to stand but instead met the floor with an alarming thud.

****

Awakened by a loud crash, Lucian jumped from his bed in desperation. He fought back the panic that waited, like a snake coiled in the grass, ready to strike. As he headed to Raven’s room, he found the length of the hallway grew longer rather than shorter with his every step. The carpet runners purposefully reached up in attempts to trip him, and inevitably doing so, Lucian careened into a Louis XIV table in the hall. The priceless treasure tipped sideways along with the candelabra that it once held. Bits of shattered glass added to his mayhem.

“Bloody hell,” Lucian uttered as he looked at the bottom of his feet. After some painful moments, picking out glass from his feet and fingers, Lucian attempted to touch Raven’s mind but she was like a closed book. Any other day of the week, their ability to psychically communicate came as a blessing. Today it vexed him.

He found Raven on the floor, unconscious with the appearance of death already upon her. Her flawless, alabaster skin had a taut, frigid appearance. He wondered how she could be so cold when the room sweltered? Lucian fixated on the window...wide open. How? He’d personally locked it. He stripped Raven’s quilt from her bed and wrapped her. Carrying her limp body, he headed for the stables and managed to find the remainder of the broken glass in the hallway. Bloody footprints trailed behind him like a broken shadow. Tears blinded him as he dropped to his knees in front of the carriage. “Duncan.” His voice cracked with anguish.

Coming up behind Lucian, Duncan took Raven. No words were exchanged as Duncan carefully placed the woman in Lucian’s lap and slammed the door shut. Then, Duncan drove the carriage towards Dr. Jones’s home pushing the horses so hard he knew he’d be walking home.

Pulling up in front of their family doctor’s manor, Duncan jumped from the carriage before it stopped rolling, and ran as hard as he’d driven the horses towards the door. Pounding on the heavy wooden structure did nothing to bring anyone to the door, nor did it do anything to improve his temperament. From the side of the home a frail, petite, grey-haired woman hobbled with the aid of a wooden cane towards Duncan.

“G’day, Mr. Thomas. If ’tis the doctor you’ll be needin’ he’s off to the O’Donnell’s. They’re having their baby today.”

Duncan left her standing alone pointing her cane in the air. “We have to go to Serina’s, Lucian. I’ll explain later,” he yelled back through the carriage window.

Numb to the core, Lucian brushed Raven’s hair from her face, while his thoughts drifted to a time four years back when they were both still at university, and how he nearly lost Raven. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about the sick events that almost killed his twin because even behind closed eyes he could see the nightmare all too vividly.

****

Four Years Earlier 1892

With only days until graduation, Lucian sat beside Raven on a bench outside the men’s dormitory at the university, both quiet watching as families and friends prepared for the commencement ceremonies.

“I do believe, Luce, you and I are the only ones here with no family,” Raven mumbled as she watched an ant drag an object much bigger than itself deep into a hole. Raven back-filled the bug’s little doorway to the world without a second thought.

“You’ve got me, Ray, always. Mum and Dad would be so proud of you.”

Raven sat up and cut Lucian off, placing her fingers to his lips. “Of us, Lucian. You’re fantastic. Mum had dreams for you, but you surpassed them all. You are smart, suave, and dashingly handsome.”

Lucian cut Raven off. “Raven, don’t ever call me handsome. Smart and suave are fine. Definitely dashing, but sisters aren’t supposed to notice things like that, but thank you.” Lucian gave her a half court bow with the tip of his finger from his forehead.

Raven pushed at his chest playfully. “I’m not lusting after you, dear brother, that’s simply vulgar. Comparatively speaking, look at that roommate you’ve had all these years, Xavier Sinclair. He is truly the most undesired, depressed man I’ve ever met. Let’s just state the obvious and go from there. His eyes look like water after you’ve had your bath.”

Lucian placed his hand over his heart. “Me?”

Raven stifled a smirk. “His lips are so thin and red. They look like they were painted by an artist who’d run out of paint. His teeth remind me of a shark, too many and too sharp. His body is identical to the skeleton hanging in the science lab. Neither meat nor muscle on him. I hope someday soon modern science can help him and his hubris. Unreal! He believes himself to best any man. You ever see him around women? No sane woman would willingly hand over her dowry for him.”

Lucian threw his arm around his sister’s shoulder and tugged her to him. “No worries, Ray. Your dowry’s a tad bit skimpy as it is.” Lucian teased, pointing towards her chest. “No man is good enough for you. I’ll take care of you forever.”

“Lucian!” Raven blushed. “I love you, but there’s a limit, and you are pushing it.”

“Well, speak of the devil and sadly the ugly scalawag does appear.” Lucian twisted her head in the direction of the man. “Xavier, we were just talking about you.” Lucian extended his hand toward the emaciated man.

Raven sat quiet, her cheeks trapped between her teeth.

“All good things I’m sure, Lucian,” Xavier stated as he returned the shake. Xavier’s glance covered Raven head to toe. He bid, “Raven, good afternoon. Sad to think there are only days left ’til we part our ways. I assume you’ll not be following me to my home to toss me out of my bed any longer. I truly regret you never once let me lie by your side.” Xavier grinned, showing off all those teeth Raven had no use for. “I found it cold on that floor all those nights I lent you my bed.”

Raven’s stomach rolled at the very idea of ever lying with him. “Trust me, Xavier, it would have been colder in the bed.” Raven tried to make light of the statement, but she was dead serious, and her smile frozen. As Raven would’ve guessed, Xavier never seemed to notice.

Good comeback, Raven.
Lucian tossed to her mentally, while his eyes never left Xavier’s face.

Raven’s lips thawed enough to give him a slight grin.

“Hello, hello, my lord and lady.” A loving voice welcomed Lucian and Raven. They turned and eagerly closed the distance.

“Duncan, so great to see you. We hoped you’d make it.” Lucian hugged him. Standing a good four inches taller than Duncan, it appeared as if he could climb on top of the man and smother him.

“Air, Luce, I need air. Your grip’s grown stronger boy...finally. And your legs, longer, if that’s possible.” As he spoke to Lucian, Duncan grabbed Raven and brought her snugly to him. “’Ello, me beauty. I’ve missed you, not your cooking mind you, just you. Heard there was a fire at the main kitchen. That wasn’t you, right?” Duncan looked up too late to see Lucian motioning behind Raven’s back for him to hush. “Oh dear.”

Tears welled in Raven’s eyes. “’Tisn’t as awful as the tabloids made it out to be. No one died and a new building replaced the old smoke house.” Raven sniffled.

“Change of topic then? Did you two actually think I’d miss the biggest day of your lives? Ah Ray, don’t cry.” Duncan wiped away Raven’s tears. “Come, my little cry babe. Show me around this university and then let’s get a bite to eat. ’Tis a long dusty ride here, and I’m a hungry boy.” Duncan, with an arm around the two of them whisked them away, ignoring the last man standing, Xavier.

“Long ride here my a—” Raven tried to tease, but Duncan covered her mouth before she could finish her sentence.

“André’s a long ride. We’re a hop, skip, and a jump, old man,” Lucian finished.

“The Queen sends her best,” Duncan subtly slipped in.

“Who?” Lucian asked.

Duncan gave Lucian a disappointed glance. “Still not speaking with her, are we?”

“Not in this lifetime, old man.”

****

After dinner and a stroll throughout Piccadilly, investigating all the new and upcoming boutiques and bakeries, Lucian and Duncan escorted Raven with all her packages back to her dorm. Lucian planned to catch up on old times with Duncan. He needed to know his friend would be all right after his tragic loss. A new little person in the manor would have been so welcome and loved, but instead things went terribly wrong and a funeral for both his wife and baby was arranged. One large casket and one tiny white casket lay side by side in their private cemetery. Lucian hated reliving that day, yet he could never forget it or the broken look on Duncan’s face when his family was laid to rest.

But tonight, Duncan looked superb. The two men walked to a local pub for an ale or two, to relax and enjoy life. They’d lost track of the time talking, when Raven invaded Lucian’s thoughts, scared and screaming. Lucian grabbed Duncan’s arm and dragged him from the pub, the mug still clutched in Duncan’s hand, his ale spilling out, Duncan muttering gibberish.

****