The Hidden Mistress - An Erotica and Romance Paranormal/Historical Novelette (4 page)

But at least she was armed. Now she would find out who was hurting whom. If the baroness was in trouble, she would do her best to save her. And if
that
did not make her a close confidante to the baroness, nothing would.

She moved to the door and listened. When she heard no sounds from the other side, she pushed the door open and peered out. Candles still burned in candlestick holders on pedestals along the walls, although many had gone out. Ten metres away in both directions, the hallway sank away into a gloom dotted with pinpricks of fluttering lights. Opposite the door was a single window that opened to distant mountaintops. The pale moon, hanging just over the mountains, did little to help the candles illuminate the corridor.

Step by cautious step, Marie made her way down the corridor. The faces on the paintings seemed to glare down at her. Soon she glimpsed a doorway, no more than a dark opening inside deep shadow. Walking armed in there would be dangerous if she slipped, so she snapped off a burning candle and brought it with her, doing her best to keep the rapier from dragging on the floor.

She knew this was an insane thing to do, but she would not hide under her blanket if the baroness needed help. For some reason, Sophie’s hard eyes and strange behaviour during the dinner came back to her. Could there have been a drama between the baroness and Sophie? There had absolutely been a tension in the room, although Marie had not suspected that it could have led to a fight.

She passed through the doorway and found herself in a colossal round room. Looking up, the glimpsed the ceiling some twenty metres above. The doorway exited on a landing, from which stairs along the walls lead up and down. The steps appeared sized for giants; they had to be at least five metres wide. Two oval windows let in enough moonlight for Marie to make out polished silvery railings.

Just as Marie stopped and tried to decide whether to go up or down, the scream came again, this time high-pitched and cut short. It was definitely a woman’s shout. Marie stood shivering while the echo faded away into silence. From here, she could tell that the sound had come from upstairs.

There was no time to waste. Lifting her candle and her rapier, Marie padded up the stairs while she tried not to think about what awaited her. Perhaps there was a murderer making his way through the building, pausing at every room to slit the throats of everyone inside. Blood might cover the walls, the floor, even the ceili –

Stop it
, she told herself. Her mind was growing feverish. What mattered was finding the source of the sound, and make sure no one came to harm.

She reached a new landing and stopped at its doorway. Inside she saw a wide corridor, its ceiling so high it was lost in shadow. The doorway was partially concealed by a heavy curtain secured with a thick rope. Marie had seen such curtains before; they were used to stop draughts from travelling through the corridors. Leaning against the wall, she hid as well as she could behind the curtain, then she peered out and listened.

All was silent. No one moved in the corridor. There were no lights, but at the end of the corridor was a cathedral-like leaded window that tapered off into a sharp top. Part of the moon was visible, its light turned by the coloured glass panes into a soft red and blue glow. From where Marie stood, she could glimpse two large doors on each side of the corridor. Apart from two sets of plate armour, mounted so that they faced each other between the doors, there was no other furniture or decorations.

A new scream erupted from one of the rooms, and Marie almost dropped both candle and sword in shock. Short but sharp, the shout had been filled with what sounded like mortal dread. The hair on the back of Marie’s neck tried to lift off her scalp. Never before had she heard such a tormented wail. If the baroness had guards, they were deaf or already dead.

Taking a deep breath, Marie lifted the rapier. She tried not to picture the nightmare that might wait for her in one of the rooms. This might be the most harebrained and absurd decision she had ever made. Still, she had to act. Someone’s life was at stake. Whatever went on had to be stopped, and fate had chosen her to do it. She would run up to the nearest door, force it open and order the attacker to give up. Preparing herself for the worst, she took a deep breath, and moved forward.

A new shout came from one of the rooms, but this time the scream was different. It was muffled, longer, and...
wrong
.

Marie froze. Standing absolutely still, she blinked in the faint light. She could not figure out what had made her so unsure – if anything, the continued screaming should had spurred her to move even faster – but instead she stood unmoving. After a while, she tilted her head and squinted at the doors. A small suspicion moved at the back of her mind, but it was too horrible for her to consider.

Once again a scream came, now stifled and so low Marie could barely hear it. There was suffering in it, even desperation, but not pain. What on Earth was going –

Marie gasped and covered her mouth.

Oh no,
she thought.
Oh dear God. I am such a silly, brainless, ridiculous fool!

The shouts she heard were not in pain or fear. No one was in trouble. There was no rampant murderer in the castle.

What Marie had mistaken for pained shouts were strained cries of extreme pleasure.

Cold sweat ran down her back. This was a grand, total and undeniable catastrophe. No, this was where catastrophes were sent for bad behaviour. No excuse in the world could save her if she was spotted here, hiding outside someone’s door like an eavesdropping rouge.

The door to one of the rooms opened. Marie held her breath and stood dead still. After a moment, a shadow moved in the doorway, and Marie pulled closer to the wall. This was the moment.

Less than ten steps from where Marie stood, Sophie stepped out of the room. Clad in a bathrobe, she walked silently but unsteadily down the corridor towards another door. Her hair, wet and tangled, looked like a confused bird’s nest. Her feet left moist footprints on the stone floor.

Another shadow appeared in the door through which Sophie had left. Marie narrowed her eyes as she tried to glimpse the person who stood in the doorway; he had to be Sophie’s lover. Despite the perilous situation, she was excited. If she was lucky, she might be able to catch a glimpse of the man who had made Sophie shout in mad passion. The man’s identity was not a rumour she could share with anyone, but knowing what he looked like would be a precious secret.

Marie felt a sting of jealousy as she waited for the man to reveal himself; she would very much have wanted to be the one who had slept with Sophie. Instantly, the idea of how Sophie’s full lips might taste came to Marie’s mind and decided to stay there. Shivering, Marie shifted her feet and tried to stand still. Her wild imagination would be the end of her.

The shadow in the doorway turned, and for a brief moment, Marie could make out a face illuminated by the sharp moonlight. Then the shadow pulled back into the room and closed the door.

Marie had to hold on to a tapestry to stay upright. Her legs felt weak and the room spun around her. The air in her lungs felt like ice.

The shadow in the door had been the baroness.

There was no doubt. Even though she had seen only a flash, those features were unforgettable.

Marie cursed her own ignorance. Of
course
it was the baroness. This was why there had been a strange tension around the table earlier that evening. During the whole meal, Marie had thought she imagined the way the women looked at each other, but she had been right all the time.

Shaking with shock, nervousness and excitement, Marie took a step back into the stairwell. All was quiet again. The moonlight filtered through the windows and made the dust in the air glitter. Leaning against a wall, she breathed in deep and tried to collect herself. Moments ago, she had been about to barge in to that room, hoping to save a woman in trouble. Had she done so, she would have stormed in on the baroness and Sophie. All the shame in the world would not have been enough.

Now she had to hurry back to her room, before she came up with some new outrageously dumb plan.

Slowly, Marie descended the stars, only to stop when she heard a sound at the bottom of the stairwell. Horrified, Marie saw a door open and a light appear. An oil lamp, most likely carried by a maid.

Marie darted up the stairs again. Glancing over the edge of the stairs, she saw the light come closer. She cursed under her breath and backed in behind the tapestry again. It was a useless hiding place; anyone walking past her would spot her right away, but at least it would hide her for a few more seconds.

Her heart beat like an ironsmith’s hammer. Wiping tears from her eyes, she looked around in panic. All the four doors were closed. There were no other exits. The maid with the light was coming closer. And here Marie was, far from her room and armed to the teeth.

There was only one route left.

Marie ran up to the baroness door and knocked hard. Even though she knew that there was no attacker, she would at least have an explanation for why she was skulking near the baroness’s chambers wielding a sword. It could work. Unless, of course, the baroness executed her on the spot.

Marie knocked again, this time harder. When no one opened, Marie cursed the misfortune that followed her, then pushed the door open and ran into the baroness’s room.

*

Marie found that she had made two mistakes.

First of all, the room into which she stormed was not the baroness’s bedroom, but a gigantic bathroom. On her right, some thirty steps away, was an enormous mosaic window that gave everything in the room a blue and white tint. To Marie’s left was a platform of white marble that supported a grand bathtub with large lion’s feet. Next to the bath was a waist-high copper cauldron, underneath which a mound of coals glowed.

It was a bathroom fit for royalty. The floor and the walls were made of dark slates of polished stone, and the arched ceiling was covered with artwork. Near the bathtub stood a massive sideboard in dark mahogany. Two thick, metre-high candlesticks mounted on stands cast pools of soft light around the platform. On the sideboard’s marble top stood a crystal glass of red wine, its facets reflecting the flickering light from the candles.

Perhaps because the room was located higher up in the castle, the sound of the wind was louder here; baying and keening, it rushed past the window as if eager to find a way into the room. Still, the air was warm and smelled of fire, perfume and old wood. It was also very humid; a thin coating of moist covered the entire floor.

Marie’s second mistake had been to enter the room at all.

Standing in the tub like a surprised lioness, the baroness glared at Marie with eyes colder than the wind that hurled past outside the window. Even now, the woman managed to look majestic, as if the red towel she had wound around her body were a queen’s ceremonial robe.

Marie could only stare. She was unable to think, let alone speak. Sophie had a soft lushness that had teased Marie’s thoughts, but the baroness’s Nordic elegance and strong body were just as distracting. In the light of the candles, the woman was a mirage designed to torment Marie and her desires. Keeping her eyes at the baroness’s face was a feat of heroic proportions.

“What are you doing here?” The baroness’s voice seemed deeper than it had earlier that night. “These are my private chambers,” she stated. “How
dare
you violate my hospitality?”

“I – thought that – you were,” Marie said and faltered.
Think,
she ordered herself.
Don’t try to be clever! Just tell her what you planned, and hope for mercy.
But speaking was impossible; the baroness’s gaze dissolved Marie’s thoughts as soon as they formed. She looked to Marie like a large bird of ray in a dangerous mood.

And the baroness’s appearance did not help. The towel was small, and through its gaps, Marie saw skin. Smooth, lean and beautiful skin.

Marie swallowed. How her thoughts could stray in a time like this was beyond her. Apparently, her mind was more intent on carnal fantasies than survival.

“I heard screams,” Marie said at last, the words tumbling off her tongue. “And I thought you were in danger.”