11. Tristan’s Thoughts
Chapter eleven
Tristan’s Thoughts
I heard her cry out and her pulse beating fast in desire. I wonder if I caused that.
I’m immortal. I’ve seen so much. I’ve outlived kings and countries. Culloden and Scottish torment. Upheaval.
I’ve witnessed the invention of railways, electricity, automobiles, airplanes, the internet and the astonishing modern belief that one ought to answer correspondence immediately. The odd thing called social media.
None of those things disturb me particularly.
This woman does. Piper, her presence. I stand alone in the library long after the castle has fallen silent. The second teacup remains where Piper left it. Half empty. One fingerprint still visible against the delicate porcelain.
I’ve spent six centuries living here, except for a time after I was turned, preserving Glenhaven Castle. It’s my home, my sanctuary. And it’s vital to the Scottish Vampire Accords.
But tonight, my attention is captured by a woman whose blood smells delectable and who thinks she bought Glenhaven.
But the question is how? The question has circled my thoughts since she appeared at the front entrance. How could she have purchased Glenhaven and its rights? Perhaps it’s an elaborate scam she was wrangled into….
The title to Glenhaven Castle has never passed through probate. Never entered public auction. Never been subject to inheritance tax. I have never wanted to sell and have not placed it for sale.
For centuries, every transition has been managed quietly through a succession of trusted solicitors, trustees, accountants, and estate managers.
The world changed. The methods changed. The protections never did.
Until now.
Somewhere, someone failed. Or worse ... someone succeeded.
I have enemies, yes I do. One does not live for six centuries without making some. One does not remain Keeper of the Accord for centuries without acquiring enemies.
But this seems odd.
I cross the room toward the fire. Its warmth means nothing to me physically anymore. Yet I continue lighting one every evening. Habit, memory and hope? Another small refusal to surrender the man I once was.
On the mantel rests a silver-framed photograph. It’s not of my family. It’s a photo of the staff, taken at Christmas some years ago.
Mrs. MacLeod pretending she disliked the camera. Liam standing stiffly behind her. Young Justin grinning despite repeated instructions not to.
Multiple generations of one family have served Glenhaven Castle. They trust me. Have trusted me for longer than any human should reasonably trust another.
And now, without warning ... A young American woman possesses title to the estate they have devoted their lives to protecting?
I should resent her. I should be furious.
Instead ... I am not. I know there’s a mistake. There must be. I know I can solve it, like I’ve solved everything for centuries.
And then I find myself smiling. Miss Piper Monroe. She arrived carrying paint samples and something called a Pinterest board.
She informed me my sense of humor was suspicious and dry.
She laughed in my library, in the entry hall and in the music room.
Good Lord ... She laughed. The sound still lingers in the old stone walls. Life itself.
I cannot remember the last time that happened. Not because laughter has been forbidden. Because it has been absent.
Mrs. MacLeod is an efficient older woman. Kind, smart, sometimes cynical. Humor is not her strong suit and certainly not laughing. The boys are typical Scottish lads of the land. They might laugh and joke when they drink at the pub amongst their friends but not here at Glenhaven Castle.
I move toward the window. Rain drifts softly across the Highlands beyond the glass. The scent reaches me long before the storm does.
Wet earth. Heather and peat and pine and …
From the floor above, Piper.
Her fragrance catches me completely unprepared. Lavender soap, rain caught in soft hair and beneath it … her blood. Alive and bright, with an enticing scent. Every heartbeat sends another invitation through the castle. Every instinct I possess answers.
Human blood carries countless subtleties invisible to its owner. Health. Emotion. Fatigue. Fear. Seduction. Joy.
Each person is different. Blood is different.
Hers ... I close my eyes and inhale.
Good God. Her blood smells of warm honey touched by wildflowers. Summer rain on old stone. The unmistakable pulse of vigorous life.
It slips through the castle with every beat of her heart. Calling. Inviting.
I open my eyes immediately. Enough! Centuries of discipline did not abandon me tonight. It will not begin now.
Still...
I pour another glass from the crystal decanter resting beside the fireplace. Dark crimson. Not wine of course. The first swallow quiets the instinct enough for thought to return.
I dislike feeding from crystal. Blood should never resemble fine wine. Yet appearances matter. Quelling my beast between feedings on one of the MacLeod brothers is necessary.
I have no intention of harming Piper Monroe. That is precisely what makes her dangerous.
Had she been merely beautiful, I would have admired her.
Had she been merely intelligent, I would have respected her.
Had she been merely amusing, I would have enjoyed her company.
Instead, she’s all three. And her blood smells luscious.
I’ve learned that temptation is rarely one thing. It arrives wearing many faces.
The very idea of drinking from her right now is intolerable. Yet I cannot deny the truth. She is the first human in longer than I care to remember whose presence I have truly noticed. Whose blood excites me. That alone is dangerous.
Yes, I need human blood every four or five days or I become a monster, but I have that under control…
My thoughts drift unwillingly backward.
Another hall. Another century. Another version of myself. The year was 1645.
A young nobleman, scarcely thirty, freshly turned vampire, believed anger and blood solved everything. Steel flashed beneath torchlight. Blood soaked ancient flagstones.
A rival House had ignored the Accord. Three of my brother warriors lay beheaded. I answered violence with greater violence. When dawn arrived, there was no one left standing but me.
For decades afterward ... People spoke my name quietly. Not always from respect but also from fear.
After I was turned, before I understood control and my affliction, I wiped out small villages far and wide. Entire glens learned to bolt their doors before sunset. It made no difference. I devastated many. It was a time of fear, confusion, and human wars raged at the same time. I used it as cover.
I finally learned restraint and another way. It took a century. But I returned home, to the castle, with my restraint and the Vampire Accords negotiated and I started again.
And now I’ve spent centuries ensuring humans and other beings never need fear me again unless necessary.
Patience became stronger than fury.
Mercy became stronger than vengeance.
That lesson cost me nearly everything. I glance toward the ceiling. Toward the room where Piper now sleeps.
She sees only a courtly Scottish gentleman. A somewhat inconvenient occupant with an alarming fondness for tea.
She smiles at me without calculation. Challenges me without fear. Looks directly into my eyes as though titles are merely decorative inconveniences.
She has no notion what stands between her and the rest of my world. She smiled at me today. Had she known what stood before her, an ancient being with a blood affliction and monstrous past, she would never have smiled at all.
May she remain ignorant a little longer.
Tomorrow will arrive soon enough. Tomorrow, I shall summon Duncan. Review every trust. Every deed. Every transfer. Every signature executed during the past fifty years, and further back if necessary. See how this could have happened or if it really did.
If there has been an error, I will discover it. And fix it.
If there has been treachery, and there may well be, I will discover that as well. Because accidents do not dismantle six centuries of legal protection.
Someone wanted Piper Monroe to own Glenhaven Castle.
The question is not whether she purchased the castle. The question may be who arranged for the castle to be purchased by her.
My thoughts now turn to ice.
Piper is curious. Optimistic. Fearless. She taps walls.
Measures rooms. Asks questions no one has asked in generations.
She runs her fingertips across old stone.
Pauses before hidden seams. Notices changes in mortar no ordinary visitor would ever see.
She will find secrets. That troubles me more than I care to admit.
Because Glenhaven Castle holds secrets, important secrets.
If she discovers the chamber holding the Accord and vampire blood before I find a way to resolve this impossible sale...
I don’t know whether I shall fear more for her or for everything the Accord has protected for six hundred years.