A Deep Dark Call Page 4

  “Nevertheless, you should try to speed things up. Somehow, you should do something about it. And fast,” he advised.

  He was, he realized later, thinking about his own plight. He should not waste time. He should do something about his own situation. As soon as possible.

  Chapter Four

  Lucy woke up after a restless night. There it was again, that strange, intoxicating scent in the air. Something wild and predatory was still buzzing and whispering in her ears, calling to her. It kept enticing her, confusing sounds mixing with the maddening scent that was filling her nostrils.

  She laughed bitterly, taking a deep breath and telling herself she was just overwhelmed with the novelty of this place. She was not, of course, losing her sanity, although it now seemed quite hard to cling to it.

  She had dreamt of night flyers coming to make love to her and to drain her vital force. But not only that—she’d also dreamt of the white wolf Alexandra had told her about, and of a large black wolf that stood by his side. And then again of her employer. All those stories Alexandra had talked about last night had of course mingled in her head. But this was what they were, just stories, not some dark, unexplained shadow that was looming over her and over this place. Besides, she’d been firmly taught that one should never mistake fiction for fact.

  Lucy still felt puzzled that Florica enjoyed telling stories about the undead. She seemed the most cheerful person Lucy had ever met. She had befriended Lucy. Really, she was the first servant to have done so, although they could barely understand one another. However, what made things somewhat easier was that the girl knew some broken French she had learned from Alexandra, who treated Florica like an older sister. She was a beautiful girl, with cornflower blue eyes and brown hair, lively, with a ready smile on her lips. She made Lucy feel more at ease in this new place among strangers.

  Following Florica’s example, some of the other servants had warmed up to Lucy and had not shown themselves as unfriendly as she’d thought them at first. It was still difficult to communicate with most of them, but, blissfully, a couple of people were able to speak good French. They had probably learnt the language when they had been with their master in Paris.

  This was the case with Mitru, a broad-shouldered young man with a forbidding countenance and a black moustache. He served as stable master, but was also one of Boyar Marcu’s most trusted men. Florica was engaged to him. Lucy was somewhat surprised that such a lively girl would want to marry a man who looked so serious and grim. Appearances were probably deceptive, because the girl seemed well pleased with her prospective match.

  Lucy was relieved she could communicate with at least some of the servants. But why wouldn’t the child’s nurse speak to her? She needed to talk to the old woman, in order to learn more about Alexandra. Somehow, she felt that the child didn’t want to share what was troubling her.

  So, this morning she boldly approached the nurse in the hall, while Alexandra was still sleeping.

  “Ana, Alexandra has told me that you can understand me,” Lucy said in French. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  The old woman clutched the laundry basket that she had been holding. She pursed her lips. But Lucy didn’t want to give up. She knew that the old woman would be a valuable ally in this place.

  “There are many things that I don’t know about this place. Perhaps I could learn, if you would help me,” she persisted.

  Ana narrowed her eyes. She placed the laundry basket on the floor and folded her arms across her chest. “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “So you do speak French!” Lucy exclaimed with a warm smile.

  Ana did not return her smile. “I was first nurse then maid to Alexandra’s mother, and I accompanied her to Paris quite often. My mistress moved in the most elegant circles in Paris,” she said frostily.

  Ana obviously could have addressed Lucy sooner, but Lucy saw right away that she hadn’t wanted to do so. She probably resented Lucy for depriving her of the child’s company. For all her sourness, the old woman obviously doted on the child.

  “Alexandra told me her mother was a beautiful woman. Very cultured and very elegant,” Lucy said, immediately understanding that the old woman had been very fond of her late mistress.

  “Alexandra is not very much like her mother,” Ana replied tersely.

  “How so?” Lucy asked.

  “My Sorana was smart, of course, but not like this...not wanting to fill her head full of books and such nonsense.”

  “It’s not nonsense. Alexandra loves books. It is how she is,” Lucy told her gently.

  The old woman harrumphed. “She is like him. He has probably read a full library of books and more. And what good has that done him?”

  Lucy guessed that “he” was probably their employer. The woman’s bitter tone told her that she did not have much fondness for him.

  Ana shook her head. “All those books...but he’s no better than a beast in the forest.” She abruptly picked up her laundry basket. Lucy was left standing in the hall, staring after her.

  “No better than a beast in the forest.” Lucy shuddered. She understood this was just a servant’s resentment toward her employer, but she could not help but remember the dark green of Boyar Marcu’s eyes. Like those deep woods you could get lost in—there where predators loomed.

  It was today that she had a chance to meet those eyes again. She was briskly told that the master had returned after two busy weeks spent in Bucharest, and that he requested an interview with her.

  Lucy found him even more alluring than in her dreams. She had dreamt of him every night, as if she had been waiting for him to come home to her, and felt ashamed of herself. She had barely met him, but all her nights had been filled with dreams of him, or, more accurately, filled with dreams of him filling her. Of a warm tongue licking her and of sharp white teeth playfully nipping her. Of strong arms and muscular thighs. Of a cock that was long, hard, and thick, and thrusting into her.

  Where did these dreams come from? At home she’d been so sheltered; she did not know where all this carnal knowledge came from. He was the first man to awaken such a reaction in her. Certainly, she had fantasized of lovemaking before, but never with such intensity. She’d not been particularly interested in any of the men she’d met so far. Why was this happening to her now?

  She almost decided to bolt before the interview he had requested. She could not understand the way she was acting. Maybe her father had been right—maybe there was something vile and depraved inside her. Maybe her sanity was really faltering, although she’d tried very hard to anchor herself to it. After all, she had no other choice; she should keep trying.

  So she chose to behave in a very proper and correct manner when she at last set eyes on Boyar Marcu. It was hard, however. With horror, she noted that she even had trouble finding her words around him.

  She cursed herself mentally for becoming a blithering idiot in his presence. She’d always thought herself an articulate woman. The effect that he had on her was maddening.

  She composed herself barely enough to greet him appropriately and give suitable answers to his queries. After a blissfully innocuous exchange concerning the winter weather and the present state of the roads, he politely asked her if she’d already settled in.

  “I think I’ll definitely need more time,” she answered with a tentative smile. “This place is very different from London...that is, from the life I led in London.”

  “Maybe not so different,” he countered, unsmiling. “I was given to understand you led a sheltered existence in London, and, as you can see, life is very sheltered here also.”

  “That’s not what I meant. This place...” She faltered and glanced at him uncomfortably.

  “That different?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  She nodded, still embarrassed for behaving in such a manner. She was acting like a frightened, in
competent child, not like the governess who should be in charge of his daughter. Too late, she found herself blurting out:

  “It even smells different.”

  She couldn’t bite back the words, but thankfully he didn’t choose to make a scorching comment on the artless remark.

  “But of course,” he murmured, and she caught an amused twinkle in his eye.

  She was being an idiot, that was certain. It was imperative to take charge of the situation.

  “Perhaps it’s mostly the language barrier that’s making me feel unsettled,” she said, trying to make her tone lighter. “Although, in truth, your daughter’s French is excellent and we communicate without difficulty.”

  “And how do you find Alexandra?” he asked, casting her a level look.

  She smiled, this time naturally and effortlessly. “She also is different from what I expected. In a good way.”

  He returned the smile, warmly, and his countenance softened when he did so.

  They talked of Alexandra, and that was easier for Lucy, because she had already become fond of the child. They talked of studies and books and teaching methods.

  “I might not be a very experienced teacher,” Lucy told him in earnest. “But my enthusiasm might compensate for it.”

  He gave her an inscrutable look. “You seem well-read and Alexandra already likes you. It is enough,” he told her.

  “I hope so,” Lucy said. “She is a special child. Of course, I am only a first step in what should be an extensive education—an education which should lead to a scientific career.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at this. “You’re already making plans for my daughter’s future?” he asked her in some amusement.

  “She is special. And you already know it,” Lucy countered, perhaps speaking too directly to her employer.

  He nodded. “She is. And she’ll soon begin to have her own dreams. I’ll try everything that is in my power to make them come true. I can only hope they won’t be crushed.”

  “Because she is a girl? And because women can’t dream of having a career in science?” Lucy said in embittered tones.

  A faint smile crossed his lips. “Because it is a harsh world, for both men and women. And dreams, no matter how powerful they are, can very easily shatter...for all of us.”

  He seemed to fall deep in thought, only to suddenly raise his penetrating gaze to her. “Still, you may be right. Dreams can survive. At least, I’m beginning to hope so. Tell me, Miss Cross, what do you dream of?”

  He was probably mocking her. And perhaps with just cause, since she had already presumed to give him advice about his daughter’s future.

  “I... I... It wouldn’t be proper for me to say,” she stammered.

  His teeth slightly bit into his lower lip, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. They were deep green and intense, with no trace of mockery in them.

  Her mouth went suddenly dry and she inhaled a deep, masculine scent. He smelled of man and of something more. Of predatory promise and of desire. But she was probably imagining things. She did not, however, imagine his next words.

  “I’ll tell you what I dream of then, Miss Cross. I dream of you.”

  And Lucy did the only thing that she could think of under the circumstances. Fast. Without thinking. She ran.

  * * *

  Ioan stared at the open door and cursed under his breath. What had he expected, really?

  He laughed bitterly. “Miss Cross, I dream of you,” he repeated out loud, if only to hear the ridiculous sound of his own voice in the empty room.

  Oh, but he did dream of her. He’d dreamt of her every night since he’d met her. Of burying himself inside her tight warmth. Of long chestnut hair that felt silky. Of snow melted by the heat of desire. Of kisses. And nibbles. And bites.

  And besides, he sensed that she’d also dreamt of him. There was not only that lingering taste of her essence in his mouth when he woke up, but also the awareness he’d truly visited her dream world. She had been calling to him at night, a deep call that shattered the barriers that existed between them when they were awake Somehow, he’d felt himself really there, entwined in the rays of moonlight and in her sleep. Just as she’d always been, in an inexplicable way, immersing him within her presence when he slept. What if their dreams were really shared dreams? Perhaps they were. They were so vivid, and they sometimes transported him to that dark place, which felt both dangerous and safe. Dreamtime. That’s what he called it.

  His mind was suddenly attuned to a different voice, which was urgently asking for his attention. Keep your eyes sharp, my brother. And, of course, he recognized the voice. He’d heard it countless times, blending with the wind.

  Keep your eyes and your ears sharp, little brother, the voice repeated.

  Trouble? Ioan asked.

  Trouble in the village.

  I know, Ioan answered calmly. Don’t worry about it.

  They’re getting restless. And it will be bad for all of us.

  Ioan shook his head. No. It’s under control, he said.

  You’re wrong. You’re careless. You didn’t used to be careless.

  Ioan sighed. Perhaps you’re right. I am careless. But you see, there’s something I must do.

  Something?

  Something that’s more important right now.

  Ioan took a deep breath. He let himself be engulfed by the voice in the wind, and by the rustle of trees that it brought with it. By the soft scent of freshly trodden snow. By the smell of pinecones and frozen water.

  Ah... I understand. Of course you are right. This is important, the voice finally said. You must do this.

  Ioan nodded.

  Where is she now? the inevitable question came.

  Ioan shrugged, uncomfortable. I’m afraid she’s bolted on me.

  The voice seemed to be laughing at him, merrily. But you know what you must do, it said.

  No. To tell you the truth, I don’t.

  But you do. You just do what all males do.

  The voice left him abruptly. Ioan felt utterly frustrated.

  He was alone in the middle of his office, and all his customary self-confidence had melted away, as if it had been snow.

  He shook his head, raking a hand through his hair. He was not like this usually. He was calm. Controlled. Cold. Restrained. Because he needed to be so.

  But the effect she had on him was devastating. Did she realize it? Perhaps she did not. He shook his head again. No, it was not entirely true. She might be innocent. She might be young and inexperienced. But a part of her already knew how things stood between them. And that part of her wanted him with the same intensity as he wanted her.

  But, still, what was he to do? Eventually, he almost laughed when he realized that the answer was really simple. You just do what all males do. So he did what all males usually did. Which was nothing much, really.

  He smiled, his whole being tense with anticipation, his heart thumping faster already. He kept his body tantalizingly still, while his heart was racing in his chest. He would wait, of course.

  So, Miss Lucy Cross...what will you do?

  Chapter Five

  She’d run away from him, like a coward, Lucy thought later in anger mixed with regret. After his shocking words, she’d left his office in a flurry, without daring to look back. She’d been afraid he might be in pursuit. Like a predator that had already staked a claim on his prey.

  He had not pursued her, though. Nor did he approach her or make more shocking statements in the days that came. He did nothing, and this was vexing. It was as if he was lying in wait for her, watching for her next move.

  She should be afraid of him, she kept telling herself. He was her employer. And she was at his mercy in this strange country, with no friends or family to protect her. Oddly, however, she did not feel afraid of him. It was only with excitemen
t that she thought of him. What she was really afraid of was herself.

  She should never have come here. She should never have let her father drag her into this. But what choice had she had?

  She eventually decided that it was better to face her employer. She would tell him his behavior was unacceptable and she would demand that he find her another position or at least give her references. It was the right thing to do. She would leave and this madness would be over soon. Somehow she would get a grip on her life. She would be sorry to leave Alexandra, but she would not put herself or the child in an intolerable situation.

  She was vexed that he did not seem to wish for a conversation with her when she finally decided to approach him. He was, he told her in cheerful tones, going for a visit to the stables. He had a treat for his horse, which was a temperamental animal, quite unhappy and lonely to spend most of his time in the stables during the cold and ice of the Romanian winter.

  Lucy did not like the way he was dismissing her. “What I have to tell you won’t take long,” she told him impulsively.

  He had the audacity to grin. “Fine then. You can come along with me.”

  Lucy opened her mouth to say that this was improper, but suddenly and inexplicably felt incensed by his next words.

  “There’s no one there at this time. Are you afraid of coming with me?” he asked her, with more than a hint of challenge in his voice.

  “I’ll come with you,” she found herself saying, and cursed herself for it.

  Still, the words could not be unsaid. Gritting her teeth, she accompanied him to the stables.

  On her guard, she waited for him to pet his horse and talk to him. He was ignoring her, she saw, gazing in vexation at the way in which he lavished all his attention on the animal that was munching an apple.

  She studied Boyar Marcu through narrowed eyes. He was ignoring her, but he could not fool her. Although his back was turned to her, she could see he was tense and straight as an arrow. He was alert for her reaction.