The Gentleman

  Although I was not denying that the Lady Bryn had truly received a vision, I was also not entirely convinced that everything she dreamt was ultimately doomed to occur.

  As to my reunion with the Lady Bryn, which was not exactly the homecoming I expected and hoped for, it should not have come as any surprise, I suppose. The more I considered it, though, the more I wondered why I ever anticipated something more from the little hellion in the first place! Of course she would castigate me for my actions! She was nothing if not difficult and headstrong. As often as I imagined I could finally figure her out, all I discovered was how little I truly knew about her.

  In six centuries of treading upon this earth, I was never so attracted to such a disagreeable woman! I feel quite bewildered and equally exasperated. The Lady Bryn is the epitome of loveliness on the outside, and I am confident no one could deny that. But her beauty was not entirely responsible for arousing my interest. Well, not wholly, anyway.

  I regarded her as the quintessential portrait of feminine beauty: almond-shaped eyes, luscious, full lips, pert nose, and a plump roundness to her cheeks. Her figure was ideal and flawless. I often pondered over the pity it was that a body such as hers, designed and engineered for receiving and enjoying all that a man could offer, was never allowed such a gift.

  There was nothing I wished for more than to enlighten Bryn and make her understand that a man’s touch should never be forced, cruel, or painful. She had never experienced physical love, only brutality. And the sting of that realization was something that haunted me constantly. If only she allowed me, and would trust me, I knew I could help her. Or, at the very least, I would do everything within my power to try.

  Replaying this conversation in my mind for at least the hundredth time, I grew angry. I failed to understand, once again, my fascination for this woman. I was never the type of man to become captivated by anyone. And, yet, to be honest, that is exactly what I was—a captive to the Lady Bryn.

  Well done, old man! I inwardly chided myself. It appears you do still possess a residual vestige of human emotion.

  I have never considered myself to be a vacuous, emotionless vessel by any means. But I have always enjoyed supreme control. That applies not only to my emotional self, but I have also always insisted upon having the upper hand in all of my associations with those of the opposite sex. I was and always have been the sole captain of my ship and commander of my battalion.

  From past experience, I have discovered that women, no matter how guarded they might appear at first, always eventually drop their defenses. That is when the dance begins, flowing backward and then forward, giving and taking. But in time, which I have plenty of, their favors and fondness for me become nearly unbearable. When a woman begins to lower her shield, in hopes that I share her feelings, the dance is over. It is only a matter of time before she willingly opens herself to me, mentally and physically, begging me to conquer her. Unfortunately, at that precise moment, when the game is over and I emerge as the victor, I invariably lose interest in the woman and withdraw.

  Of course, some women naturally captured my attention for longer periods than others, but inevitably, time always manages to draw my interests elsewhere.

  However, that template never applied to the Lady Bryn. Perhaps because she and I never embarked on that dance, or challenged each other to the joust. To date, I had not bedded her, nor won her heart, nor her trust. In fact, I could not claim any laurels that could even suggest her affection toward me. This aggravated me thoroughly.

  The little twit was the ultimate tease, the unreachable thrill. Perhaps that was precisely what drew me to her. She refused to allow me to win. In the end, I am convinced that no man could ever conquer such a determined and fierce warrior. Perhaps she would find someone she trusted long enough to lower her guard and resistance. Perhaps she could even learn to care for someone, but she would never submit to anyone. Of that, I felt quite certain.

  And therein lies the source of my fascination. The Lady Bryn is and always has been unattainable. My efforts at seducing her invariably failed because she refused to play the game.

  With my hands fisting at my sides, I paced the wooden floor of my dormitory. I was on edge. Overly anxious. I rarely suffered from such a condition and I did not enjoy feeling that way. I bristled when the epiphany finally dawned on me that I was already hopelessly ensnared in the little twit’s web. This information displeased me to no end.

  Frustrated, I left the confines of my room and ventured outside. I was drawn into the courtyard by the gurgling fountain. I wondered if it would help to ease my overactive mind. The moon filled the sky, surrounded by plenty of dark and ominous clouds that threatened imminent rain. There was nothing but tedious days of rain in this blasted part of the world.

  The change of scenery failed to appease my overburdened mind as my inner conversation picked up right where it left off.

  Never a novice to the game of love and war, I was a skilled adversary, and I never failed at achieving my objective. I have always enjoyed my raucous reputation as a rogue. Though I have no apologies since I certainly left a trail of broken hearts in my wake, such is the nature of the game. One side must always submit to the other, one side must always prevail. There has to be a winner and a loser.

  I never lost.

  Yet, I could not claim to be winning now. As a matter of fact, I was no longer even playing the game! My minx-like opponent, in her refusal to engage me, was forcing me to the sidelines. And try as I might have to wedge a foot or a hand through the door, I was never invited to spar with the Lady Bryn.

  The main factor that bothered me most of all was that I could not explain my fascination with the Lady Bryn. Yes, she was beautiful; but I had bedded so many beautiful women throughout the centuries before irrevocably losing interest in them just as quickly. Bryn was different. My ardor burned for her. It began with my admiration for her. And it was that precise admiration that left me dumbfounded because it was akin to the admiration one might have for a cactus after impaling a finger on one of its spines!

  I could not recall one instance when I had been so enamored of a shrew.

  I smiled to myself when I recalled how she battled with the boomerang before I crept upon her. Her speed and agility were absolutely improved, so I was convinced she had been practicing despite my absence. As I watched her, I was proud as a peacock.

  I had taught her how to move her body. I had told her to close her eyes and rely solely on her other senses, and she performed perfectly. She effortlessly disbanded each threat with keen focus and acuity. She had embraced our lessons and perfected them to an art.

  It pleased me to observe her in such a natural state. She seemed as if she were a wild animal, unaware of watchful eyes. There was no wall erected around her now, no disapproving glances, no narrowed glares that would prompt her to try to ascertain my motives. No, she was natural, real, and very much herself, which was stunning.

  From my spot where I studied her, I irrationally grew envious of the trees, the wild creatures, and even the air she breathed. Envious to see how they so easily received her in her natural state, without suspicion, judgment, and defensive responses. My envy soon turned to irritation as my demanding male ego forced me onward. I was all at once compelled to prove that although she practiced her skills and art until it was second nature and certainly a veritable threat in her own right, she still needed me. It suddenly was of paramount importance that I demonstrate at once she could not best me, her private trainer. So I ran at her, invisible as the wind.

  I was surprised when she sensed me. And her reaction was fast and furious! She hit me with so much power and strength, it set me off kilter for a moment. Her impact was impressive by any estimation. And when I realized that she even made me bleed, I was astounded and stupefied.

  How could she have improved so quickly? Was it from magic? Could that be responsible for her incredible strides, or was there something more? Of course, having known thousands of witches and warl
ocks, I must modestly admit that while their powers can be awe-inspiring, they could never compete with a vampire in most respects. Especially in speed, agility, and strength. To my delight and surprise, Lady Bryn could. Lady Bryn had.

  “Sinjin?” Hearing the queen’s voice behind me, I nearly jumped it was so unexpected.

  “Bloody hell,” I whispered as I turned around to face her, annoyed by the interruption. Truly, my annoyance belonged to myself because I should have detected her by smelling her long before she managed to close the distance between us. Being lost in my thoughts, I now realized, was not a good place to be.

  Jolie stood with her hands clasped in front of her. The blonde locks of her hair twisted down the right side of her body. She appeared pleased to see me, and I detected a glint of relief in her beautiful blue eyes. They were the same eyes as her sister, although Jolie’s were untainted and pure. They were still innocent, lacking the embittered resentment present in her sister’s eyes.

  Once, this woman utterly captivated me, and I wanted only to take her for myself. But that time had long since passed. Now, I feel nothing but adoration and respect for her, my queen. Besides, Jolie and I were not a good pair. She was far too innocent, too trusting, and too good. There was a darkness living in me that she could never understand, the same darkness that lived inside her sister. Of course, hindsight is always twenty/twenty.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you,” she said, giggling with a smile. I frowned. “In fact, I’m pretty surprised that I did. You must have lots of important things on your mind not to have detected my presence?”

  “Yes, my mind was preoccupied, but I claim no excuse for my lack of awareness,” I answered. “I must apologize.”

  “For what?” she laughed, shaking her head at me.

  “My distraction could have been a serious mistake, considering I am your guard and protector.”

  “I’m not worried about it,” she answered with another well-intentioned smile. Remembering my place, I stepped slightly forward and bowed, paying my queen the respect I owed her.

  “You don’t have to fuss with all of that, Sinjin,” she answered. She reached forward and gripped me by the shoulder, pulling me upright.

  “You are my queen, and I am in your service.”

  “But I was first and foremost your friend,” she argued. “All that pomp and circumstance is fine when we’re in the company of my advisors. When it’s just you and me, I don’t like it.”

  “Very well,” I answered with a brief nod. I was waiting to hear the reason for her visit.

  “You made it back safely, I see.” A grin pulled at the corners of her lips, but there was also a hint of concern in her eyes—which alarmed me.

  “Yes,” I answered. “I arrived earlier this evening.”

  She nodded slowly, but her expression was distracted like someone who cannot stay focused on the conversation. She also seemed burdened by something, and her shoulders visibly sagged in the moonlight.

  “Can we walk?” she asked, facing me hopefully.

  “Of course,” I replied. She moved past me and we walked through the courtyard toward the gardens in the rear of Kinloch Kirk. The moonlight caught her light blonde hair, and I immediately recalled her sister’s darker and longer, honey-colored tresses.

  Despite being sisters, they were as different as night is to day. And, yet, they were both so powerful, and capable of amazing things. I had a feeling, though, that the extent of the Lady Bryn’s powers were not as defined. I doubted even she knew what she was capable of achieving.

  “What is troubling you?” I asked her after it became apparent she was not going to divulge her reason for finding me.

  She sighed, long and hard. “I don’t want to think about what’s troubling me, Sinjin,” she answered as she turned to face me. “I just wanted to see for myself that you made it back safely. I wanted to walk with you.”

  I nodded. “I am happy to oblige you.”

  “Sometimes, when the world is falling down around us, seeing a familiar face always seems to make things better,” she answered. She smiled up at me and reached out, taking my hand.

  ***

  I was being summoned to a meeting by the queen. With no indication as to what subject matter would be discussed, I was sadly unprepared.

  I stepped inside the Green Room, the primary location where the queen conducted all her business affairs. The first person I saw was Randall. He was looking rather pinched and impatient, as usual. It is no secret that Randall’s name is not really Randall, but Rand. In my efforts to incite him and provoke a telltale reaction to see whether or not he actually possessed a beating heart, I offered him a large grin. That was before I began making doe eyes at his beloved, my queen. He responded with a frown and his eyes narrowed. I ignored his undisguised abhorrence for me. Ah, well, you cannot win them all … or so they say?

  Mathilda stood with Odran, the king of the buffoons, on Randall’s right side. As I passed them, Mathilda smiled placidly at me. Odran briefly nodded, which shook his man locks loose and they cascaded around him, looking like a river of molten gold.

  “Dinnae take yer jealousy oot oan meh since ye cannae grow anythin’ any longer,” he replied in his heavy Scottish brogue. “Bludy undead,” he added, but under his breath.

  “Ah, I can still grow the one thing that counts the most,” I answered with a smile. My attention instantly fell on the Lady Bryn where she stood behind her sister, perhaps a yard from me. Immediately grasping my innuendo, she looked away in unmasked disgust.

  A perfect opportunity to grace her with my company, I thought to myself. Strolling past Trent, the werewolf, I caught an earthy, canine smell that dissuaded me from sharing any space with him. I gave him a brief nod in greeting, which he returned before I started heading for Lady Macbeth who was busy glaring at me.

  Klaasje, my fellow vampire and protector to the queen, stood on Bryn’s opposite side. Mercedes Berg, the prophetess, was beside Klaasje. She studied everyone in attendance in her usual, sour way. Though she did not like me, she cared even less for the queen’s sister.

  “How fares thee on this night, sweet lady?” I whispered to Bryn, taking my position beside her after bowing gallantly.

  “I’m fine,” she answered rather rigidly. She refused to look at me. Facing forward, her lips were a tight line. Our liaison must have returned to its original rigidity, or so it seemed …

  I nodded. “As am I, my dear, and thank you for inquiring,” I added if only to jibe her.

  “I didn’t inquire, because I don’t care.”

  I glanced at Varick whom I spotted across the room. He was a strong vampire and the one I called master for many years. Now I answered to no one, save the queen. I smiled broadly at the emaciated creature before waving jubilantly in an American sort of way. Of course, I merely intended to anger him, and it appeared I had when he glared down his snipe-like nose at me before promptly facing the queen.

  “Perhaps this entire room could benefit from a visit with the happy bus,” I whispered, and the Lady Bryn made a groaning noise, deep within her throat. I heard Klaasje laugh beside Bryn, and I offered her a grateful smile.

  “I think everyone would rather see you driving off in said happy bus,” Bryn answered as I glanced over at her. Meeting her eyes, she smiled.

  “Touché, my dear poppet, and well done.”

  “It’s good to see you’re back, Sinjin,” Klaasje whispered from beside Bryn.

  “Thank you, pet. It is good to be back.” Then I glanced at the Lady Bryn again. Naturally, she still refused to look at me, but I was not finished with her yet. There was nothing I enjoyed more than provoking someone who insisted upon ignoring me. I was not an easy man to ignore. “And have you any clue as to why we are all assembled together this night?”

  She frowned. “I think it’s fairly obvious that my sister wants to talk to us.”

  “Oh?” I responded, sounding surprised. The Lady Bryn finally glanced up at me, frowning, and I shrugg
ed. “I thought perhaps a game of croquet was soon to befall us? Perhaps an exhilarating tennis match? Or, my own personal favorite, Truth or Dare?” She mumbled something unintelligible and shook her head before facing forward again. “I, myself, am a daring type of man. What about you, Lady Bryn?” I continued, enjoying her growing discomfort. “Do you hide behind the safety of truth? Or, like me, are you a brave sort who longs for a daring adventure?”

  “Oh, my God,” she grumbled. “What the hell are you going on about?” Taking a deep breath, she added, “You are so freaking annoying sometimes.”

  “Do not forget your recent admission of how much you missed me,” I said. “Ah?”

  “I take it back.”

  I could not respond because the queen finished discussing a topic with her husband and turned to face me. “Sinjin,” she said with a welcoming smile.

  “Your majesty,” I answered with a debonair bow. “You appear to be the only person in this room who is glad to see me.”

  “Now you know that’s not true!” she started with a glance at her sister, who refused to make eye contact with either of us. Jolie swallowed the rest of her speech and smiled broadly at me instead. “Thank you for coming,” she finished.

  “Of course,” I answered as I caught Randall glaring at me. I glanced at him and smiled languidly. It was no secret that the queen favored me. But that preference certainly rubbed Randall the wrong way. He erroneously believed my character to be nothing more than that of a lecherous, manipulative, and selfish cad. To be honest, I could admit that there was certainly more than one occasion when I could be all three.

  “Thank you to everyone for coming on such short notice,” the queen began, addressing the entire room. Everyone immediately took a seat and faced her curiously.

  “I do hope this meeting is necessary,” Varick began, and his tone was icy.

  “As do I, my queen,” I nearly interrupted him, and Jolie turned to face me with surprise in her expression. “As I would not want Varick to miss his appointment at the tanning salon. The freakish pallor of his skin is so white as to be reflective! I fear that looking at him too long could burn out all of our retinas.”