Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
My Dearest Vail,
I spend most of my time in the garden. I have found solace tending to the earth; it gives me a sense of purpose that I desperately need.
In the tranquility, I cannot help but think of my mother and father, replaying childhood memories in my mind.
At night, the weight of regret presses on me.
I wonder if I could have saved my mother if only I had been less selfish.
The man I am staying with … I often catch a glimpse of the way he looks at me. It ignites something I cannot ignore. It leaves me wondering what thoughts lie behind his intense eyes.
My thoughts have been consumed by him during the day, and I find myself counting the hours until he returns.
Please write me soon.
Yours,
Rosalia
I pushed open the doors to the kitchen to give Imalda the letter, but when I entered the kitchen, I was greeted with a large pair of eyes.
A maid I’d never seen before stood there in the same attire that Imalda usually wore.
Her long hair shimmered like copper in the light, and when our eyes met, she let out a small gasp before darting away, faster than a mouse, scurrying through the back door of the kitchen.
I knew Draven had servants; I often heard the soft shuffling of furniture and the gentle sweep of brooms, but since my arrival, Imalda had been the only one to introduce herself.
Curiosity pulled me forward. I’d never been through that section of Thornwood before, so I pushed open the door.
Behind it was a long hallway lined with doors, which I guessed led to the staff quarters.
As I walked down the corridor, I noticed dried garlic, Virgin Mary figurines, and crosses decorating the walls and doorways.
My fingers brushed against one of the crosses just as a laundry basket in the corner caught my attention.
I looked down and gasped. The blue fabric draped across the top looked familiar, resembling the dress I had worn when I first arrived. With trembling hands, I pulled it out of the basket.
A wave of memories crashed over me, dragging me back to that night. I covered my mouth, fighting back tears, blinking furiously to keep them at bay. I fled back through the kitchen, my pulse pounding in my ears.
In my haste, I swung open the door and collided with something. Draven. His broad, sturdy chest caught me, and I stepped back, gazing up at him as he looked over me.
“I apologize, I did not see you,” I said, fighting back tears that threatened to spill as I clenched my fists.
“Where were you headed in such a hurry?” Draven asked me.
I looked away from him, feeling a mixture of grief and anger. I couldn’t shake the images that flashed before my eyes. The Blood Hunter, the struggle to escape, and my mother’s fate. I took a deep breath.
“I was trying to find Imalda—” But my voice cracked, and a tear leaked, marking a path down my cheek.
Draven’s hands moved to my face, lifting my chin so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. His thumbs wiped away my tears with gentle care.
“Rosalia, what is the matter?” he asked, his voice soft.
“I … I cannot stay here any longer,” I whispered, my voice breaking as more tears began to fall. I rushed to move past him, but he caught my arm gently and turned me back to face him.
“Draven, let me go. I … I…”
My heart was hammering in my chest as Draven pulled me into his arms, holding me close against his chest. The warmth of his embrace only intensified the weight of everything I’d been holding in, and I couldn’t stop the sobs from shaking through me.
“Shh,” he whispered into my hair, his voice like a soothing balm against the rawness of my emotions. “You are all right,” he murmured.
The tears didn’t stop, but for the first time in so long, I allowed myself to lean into the comfort he offered. I buried my face in his chest, and without thinking, the words began to spill out.
“The day you rescued me at the river,” I began, my voice trembling.
“The day you brought me here … That was the night my mother died. A Blood Hunter attacked her. He killed her. I found her. When I tried to kill the monster who did it …” My voice broke again, the memory too raw to bear. “I fell into the river.”
“Why did you not tell me sooner?” Draven asked.
I looked up at him, my tears staining the fabric of his shirt. The fabric darkened where my grief had soaked through, and I tried to wipe it away, but the damage was done.
“I was afraid,” I whispered. “I did not know you. I thought … I did not know if I could trust you. And when you brought me into your home, I was afraid of what you might think of me. I was afraid you would throw me out.”
Draven’s hands moved to my shoulders, gently guiding me back just enough so he could look directly into my eyes.
“My heart,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I would have helped you, no matter what.” The words were simple, but they were enough.
In that moment, the heaviness inside of me lifted slightly. His words were an anchor that I hadn’t known I needed.
“Thank you.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked me.
“Yes, I am.”
“Perfect. I gave the maids the night off. I thought it would be nice if I cooked us dinner tonight.”
I looked at him, blinking. I had never had a man offer to cook for me before, and a flutter of excitement whirled up inside of me. I didn’t want to appear too eager as he started to prepare the meal.
Draven looked right at home in the kitchen, opening the cupboards, taking out pots and pans, and arranging food on the counters.
I stood in the corner, not sure of what to do.
I wanted to stay out of his way. He took out a bottle from a locked cupboard on the top of a shelf.
Draven poured himself a drink into a dark glass.
He lifted it to his lips, and I watched as he took a long, slow sip.
“May I try?”
“Not today,” Draven replied, his voice husky. “This is strong. Though, I have something else you can try, that I think you will enjoy.”
He pulled out a smaller bottle holding tawny-coloured liquid and poured a modest amount into a crystal glass for me.
I took it from him. The crystal of the glass felt so thin; it was the most delicate and precious thing I had ever held in my hands.
I brought it to my lips, letting the sweet aroma fill my senses before I took a small sip. It was sweet and thick.
“What is it?”
“It is an old port I’ve had for a while,” Draven said. “Do you enjoy it?”
“It is nice. I have never tasted anything like it,” I admitted, then drank the rest of the glass.
“Careful,” Draven cautioned, taking the glass from my hands. “It is strong.”
He poured me another. “Savour it this time.” He placed the glass into my hands, his fingers briefly brushing mine.
I sipped it carefully as I watched Draven move purposefully around the kitchen.
He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his forearms, and my heart beat harder in my chest. His muscles flexed as he started chopping vegetables, and I looked away slightly as my thoughts started to wander about other parts of his body.
“Do you need help?”
“No, thank you, Rosalia. I am making you dinner.” Hearing him say my name gave me goosebumps.
“Cooking has always been a passion of mine.” His voice was soft and tinged with nostalgia. “My mother was an incredible cook. She taught me everything I know about the art of preparing a good meal, even though it has been a while since I have cooked for myself.”
“Can you tell me more about your mother?”
A wistful smile tugged at Draven’s lips as he scooped the vegetables and put them in a pan on the stove. “She was a remarkable woman, kind and compassionate. She had a way of making everyone feel welcomed and loved. She used to say that a good meal has the power to heal both body and soul.”
As he spoke, the memories of his mother seemed to surround him, and I could see in his eyes the deep love and respect he held for her.
I listened, feeling a connection to Draven that went beyond a physical attraction. Tears welled in my eyes hearing him talk about his mother as I drew connections to my own.
I blinked before the tears ran down my cheeks. “It smells really good,” I told him.
“It is ready.” Draven motioned for me to move to the dimly lit dining room.
“Please, have a seat,” he said. I sat as he put the beautifully plated meal on the table and sat down next to me. “Dinner is served.” He locked eyes with me.
I felt a rush of warmth as I took in the meal. I looked at his plate and noticed his serving was distinctly smaller than mine.
“Are you not eating much?” I inquired.
Draven took a sip of his drink; the candlelight cast a soft glow on his face. “I should be eating nothing. I must fast for my research.”
I took a bite of food; it tasted amazing and melted in my mouth. Once again, I was eating while Draven watched me.
“Can you tell me about the research you are doing?”
“I am working with a doctor on a private project. I assist him in his various experiments,” Draven said, skewering a potato with his fork.
“Experiments?” I took a sip of the port. “Is it dangerous?”
His gaze was intense. “For me, it can be dangerous at times. Though, it is worth it.”
“Could you share more about it?”
“Perhaps another night, Rosalia,” Draven replied. “I would rather not delve into such matters now; it is stressful for me.” He changed the subject. “What are your plans tomorrow?”
“I was going to ask Imalda if I could go into town with her for supplies for the garden. Some seeds, probably.”
“Take care whom you converse with in town.”
“Why?” I was puzzled by his caution. I grew up in Elmcross and knew almost everybody.
“I would advise against revealing to them that you are staying with me.”
“Why should that matter?” I questioned further.
“Because you are not yet married,” he explained, his voice low. “Such information would surely stir gossip, and you would not wish for them to think ... ill of your reputation, or to believe you are a whore.”
I was taken aback by Draven’s bluntness. “Pardon me?”
Draven’s eyes bore into mine. “Rosalia, you must understand, appearances hold great weight in Elmcross. An unmarried woman residing with an unmarried man is a situation ripe for rumour. Gossip spreads with alarming speed, and I would sooner shield you from such unwarranted scrutiny.”
I felt foolish in my naivety about the town’s gossip. Maybe Draven was right in my keeping my mouth shut. There were bound to be rumours in town about my mother’s death and my disappearance.
I continued to eat my meal in silence, pondering his words. I fiddled with the pendant of my necklace, moving it back and forth on the chain.
Draven’s eyes flickered down to the necklace, then he leaned forward slightly. “May I ask, Rosalia, where did you come by that necklace?”
“It belonged to my mother,” I replied softly. “She gave it to me when I was young. And my father gave it to her before I was born.”
Draven’s eyes softened. “A cherished memento,” he said quietly. “It suits you.”
After supper, Draven suggested that he walk me back to my room. We strolled the dimly lit hallways, and he broached a different topic. “Rosalia, it has been some time since you arrived here at Thornwood. Are you settling in well?”
“Yes, your hospitality has felt welcoming,” I told him.
“I am glad to hear that,” he said. “I really enjoy our conversations. I find solace in your company.”
“Me too,” I replied, meeting his intense gaze, my pulse quickening.
Draven moved closer to me. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of my hair from my face.
“I feel a strong sense of protectiveness toward you. You occupy my thoughts far more than I dare to admit.” My breath caught as his fingers traced along my cheek, “These were never here before,” he said, mentioning my freckles.
I looked away, embarrassed. “They appear when I am in the sun. I always thought they looked rather ... dirty.”
“They are beautiful,” he said, and his hand lowered and traced along my lips to the freckles above the top lip. “You are beautiful.” Draven’s voice was barely a whisper as he leaned in closer, our lips almost touching. “May I kiss you?”
I paused for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, then I took a step back, bumping into the door of the bedroom. I reached for the doorknob behind me, and a small, sly smile played on my lips. I leaned toward him, my heart pounding.
“No,” I said softly and opened the door. “I do not wish for people to think I am a whore.” I added, before entering the room and closing the door behind me.