The Hidden Mistress - An Erotica and Romance Paranormal/Historical Novelette (3 page)

Thinking back on some of the more horrific stories Marie had heard, she shuddered and closed her eyes. If even a few of those tales would have been true, the world would be a very frightening place. Come to think of it, if just one single rumour was proved to be accurate, she would lock herself inside her room and never come out.

When she realized that she was touching the small cross that hung from her neck, she quickly lowered her hand. This was not the moment to give in to superstitious drivel.

“I do not waste my time with such matters,” Marie hurried to add. “My mind is firmly devoted to more practical matters. Art, for example, and history.”

“I think it is disgusting.” Lady Chaubel pursed her lips in a sour grimace that Marie was sure would keep any monster at bay. “We have enough problems to occupy us,” she continued. “Unrest in the countryside, the Englishmen, and so on. There is no need for imagined terrors.”

The baroness looked amused, her dark blue eyes glittering and her lips curved in a small smile. Once again Marie found herself staring. Next to the baroness, Marie felt like a limp mouse facing an oversized cat. Sophie was silent and seemingly lost in thought, but her eyes too rested on the baroness. Across the table, the elderly pair looked subtly revolted by the topic.

Soon, the discussion changed to politics, and Marie concentrated on making mental notes of the many details and names that were mentioned. Her parents would be impressed when she brought back a wealth of information and insights. Two more meals were served; grilled veal followed by a crisp white almond cake covered with pressed raspberries. It was one of the best dinners she ever had been served. Best of all was the wine; it was rich, complex and aged to perfection. Much like the baroness herself, Marie thought.

However, while Marie struggled not to stare at the host of the evening, she found it increasingly hard not to let her eyes linger on Sophie. The woman’s manners were cool and her voice always on the border of sardonic, but underneath the light scorn was a layer of something else. Curiosity, perhaps, but also emotions that ran deeper than that. Marie could only wait and see if she could learn more. Whatever Sophie was thinking when her large eyes were turned to Marie, her face was always straight. Still, Sophie sparked sensations that filled Marie’s head with images that made her blush.

One thing was unmistakable: There was a tension between the baroness and Sophie. Part of it was interest, she was sure, but there was more. It annoyed Marie, who would like to tease out the subtle aspects of the two women’s relation. Perhaps it could be used to her advantage. Unless she was imagining it all; the wine was rising to her head, and she was tired.

Once the dessert was finished, Madame and Monsieur Chaubel stood up and announced that they were withdrawing to their rooms. “It has been a splendid evening, baroness.” Monsieur Chaubel bowed deeply. “But the hour is late, and we are facing a long journey tomorrow.”

The baroness rose too, as did Sophie and Marie. “Of course,” the baroness said and inclined her head. “Your rooms may be in a remote corner of my home, but they are the warmest chambers I have. Sleep well, I pray, and I will see you at breakfast.”

A servant entered the room, and with another round of bows, the elderly couple were guided out of the dining hall. After the door had closed behind them, Marie and the other two women sat down. As a silence settled over them, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change. Marie had been distracted by the Chaubels’ mindless gossiping; now she was increasingly aware of being alone in this gloomy hall together with two disturbingly attractive women. Her voice felt oddly weak as she turned to the baroness.

“This truly has been an intriguing – I mean to say, a fantastic dinner.” Marie frowned as she worked to find the right words. How strong had that wine been? Usually, she knew her limits very well, but now she felt faint and nervous. “And your company has been excellent,” she added once she felt composed again. “Again, thank you for inviting me.”

“I can assure you,” the baroness replied, “that the pleasure is mine.”

Marie’s treacherous subconscious rushed in and suggested that the baroness had emphasized
pleasure
. She had to rush to bed before this ended in a serious disaster.

“However,” Marie continued, “I fear that it is time for me too to return to my room.”

“Can we not tempt you for some further conversation?” the baroness asked. “The night is young, and there is much wine left.” Sophie nodded in agreement and glanced at Marie.

Marie made an apologetic face while she wondered over Sophie’s expression; again, the woman looked both fascinated but also slightly anxious. Her skin really was flawless.
How would it feel to run my fingers along that slender arm,
Marie wondered.
To press my lips against that neck, those shoulders, those...

Startled over her own thoughts, Marie jerked her head upright. “I am sorry,” she said quickly, “but to be absolutely honest, I feel a little faint. The journey must have exhausted me.” She rose from her chair and held on to the table not to sway.

“I understand,” the baroness replied after a brief pause. Marie began to worry that she had insulted the baroness, but then the baroness rose and smiled warmly. “In that case, I suggest that you rest. We have much to look forward to during the coming days.”  

Marie bowed again. “Thank you, baroness.” Sophie bowed as well and gave Marie a sidelong glance that Marie could not interpret. Perhaps Sophie had wanted Marie to stay. Or, maybe, Sophie would have liked to follow Marie to her room, and join her in her bed.

Unbidden, the idea rose to the front of Marie’s mind and made her blush furiously. She had to retreat before the wine and the mad fantasies made her say something inappropriate.

“You will be seen to your chamber safely,” the baroness said and raised her glass. “And I wish you a good night.”

“
Au revoir
,” Sophie said. Her large eyes were dark, unreadable, and unbearably beautiful.

Marie was about to comment on Sophie’s eyes when she realized that a maid was standing just behind her. Almost jumping in surprise, Marie tried to disguise her shock with a smile. She truly was tired. With a final bow, she left the table and let the maid escort her from the dining hall.

*

As Marie walked down the corridor behind one of the maids, her head span from more than the wine. The maid kept just in front of her but said nothing. Lit candles cast a warm and soft glow on the floor and the high walls, but the darkness outside the candlelight seemed to cling to Marie’s clothes.

This had been a strange evening. Marie was sure Sophie has looked disappointed when Marie had said that she would leave, but that made no sense. Why did the woman act so strangely? Sophie had been frigid when Marie first had arrived at the table, then the woman’s attitude had changed to interested, and after that to...something else. Had it not been so unlikely, Marie would have said she had seen a hunger in Sophie’s eyes. An intense craving, and maybe a little fear.

Marie shook her head as she walked. Perhaps she had misunderstood the situation entirely. That would not be surprising; she had travelled far, and she was so tired she could fall asleep while she was walking. And only a blind person would not want Sophie’s attention. It was a nice and tempting idea, but a daydream nevertheless.

After crossing the hallway, the maid stopped outside Marie’s room, gestured at her door, then curtsied and walked away. Marie looked after the maid as she left. Yet another silent and pretty woman. She wondered if the maid would have come into the room she had told her to, then quickly snuffed out the thought. This had to stop. Musings were innocent, but she was going too far.

Getting changed for bed took only a few minutes, and soon she drifted off into the abyss of sleep, not knowing that she would wake up again sooner than she expected.

*

Marie woke with a gasp.

She sat up and pulled up the blanket to her chin. Heavy shadows cloaked almost everything in her room, but enough moonlight filtered through the white curtains to let her make out most of the furniture.

A sound had woken her up. She did not know from where it had come or what had made it, but there had definitely been a noise. A scream, loud and unnatural. A shriek full of pain and terror.

Shaking with fear, she looked around but saw no movement or suspicious silhouettes. The only sound in her room came from the wind, pushing against the windowpanes and running along the castle’s walls. Judging by the dark sky outside her window, it was the middle of the night. She could not think of any reason why someone would make any noise at this hour. Worse, what Marie had heard was not merely a strange noise, but the anguished sound of someone in terrible pain.

Slowly, she rose and inspected into the bathroom, but there was no one inside. She was alone. Exhaling with relief, Marie returned to her bed and climbed back under her sheet. With an effort, she managed to calm her breathing. She was still shivering.

As she tried to relax, she wondered if it could have been a dream. She rarely had nightmares, but perhaps the many new impressions today had unsettled her. Stranger things had happened. She lay awake for a few minutes, looking at the large wooden beams in the ceilings while she waited for the sound to come again, but all she heard was the creaking of the windows and the howling wind outside.

Frowning, Marie burrowed deeper down into the bed. This was awfully annoying. Unless she fell asleep again soon, she would be tired and tense tomorrow, and she was here to make a good impression. She was too old to let herself become unnerved by a few new faces, a peculiar building, and a spell of bad weather.

Then she heard it again: A short shout, loud and clear, echoing between the walls in the corridor outside. There was no question about it; somewhere, deep in the castle, there was a fight.

This time, Marie sat bolt upright. A cold sweat broke on her back and her lungs felt tight. It was a woman’s voice. She could not tell how she knew, but she was sure of it. In a brief flash, the talk of monsters around the dinner table came back to her, and from the depths of her imagination rose the idea of a large bat-winged creature, hunting the maids through the corridors.

Marie stared at her door. Many of her female friends found great pleasure in pretending to be afraid so that men could swoop in and comfort them, but Marie had always prided herself on not being a coward. As far as she knew, putting on a show of weakness attracted only opportunists and idiots. Better to keep a straight back and search for a man who would respect her and – most importantly – learn to ignore the women who might visit Marie’s chambers.

But while it was easy to be brave in the city, this was different. Now she was alone and isolated. Normally, she would be surrounded by people; here she had only shadows and silence for company. If the terrible shouts she had heard meant that there was a murderer on the loose inside the baroness’s home, she would have to defend herself.

Her eyes grew wide as a thought came to her: what if it was the baroness herself who was in trouble? Marie’s room could be close to the baroness’s private chambers. The layout of the castle was unknown to her; it was possible that the baroness was just down the corridor. Was it possible that her host was suffering at the hands of a bandit?

The idea called for action. Trying to rest more was useless; she was wide awake, and she knew she would stay that way until she knew what was going on. There was only one thing left to do.

Marie left the bed and looked around. The cool air made her shiver; her thin negligee was comfortable but did little to keep her warm. She needed a weapon, and thankfully, the walls were lined with a variety of sabres, axes, halberds, short swords, and maces. Moving carefully, she stepped up onto a chest, stood on her toes and reached for a solid-looking sword. All she had to do was find a weapon intimidating enough to keep an attacker at bay while she shouted for help. Maybe help was already on its way; the baroness had to have guards stationed throughout the castle.

The sword came loose, and Marie almost fell off the chest in surprise. Only luck saved her from dropping the thing on the floor; the weapon must have weighed more than she did. With an effort, she lowered the unwieldy blade and rested it against a wall, then took down a rapier. It was ornate and dull but lighter than the sword, although not by much. Hopefully, she would not have to use it. Years ago, she had spent a summer studying fencing, but her class had used light and elegant training weapons. This rapier felt like an oar in comparison. Men seemed intent on making even killing themselves difficult.