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ELIZABETH
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BY MID-JUNE, THE COSMOPOLITAN Hotel and the Mayfair Theater needed only the final touches, and the other three buildings were half done. I was more than happy with the progress.
But I was exhausted. Week after week, I worked long hours in Rosenthal and then traveled to Copper Ridge for the weekend. The crazy rhythm I’d enforced upon myself had started wearing me out. To make it worse, Brian was more and more frustrated: with his inability to leave Copper Ridge, with my brief weekend visits and with my refusal to employ more workers.
I was doing my best to keep the renovations on the right track; Christian was working his butt off, the enthusiasm among our crew was great. But, as happens with every big job, complications nobody could predict or prevent would pop up.
One Friday morning, just before I was supposed to leave for Copper Ridge, the workers had discovered a collection of Roman gold coins in one of the Cosmo’s forgotten vaults. Christian was in Seattle, tracking down a misplaced shipment of Italian marble, so I had to deal with the authorities and the media.
Brian wasn’t happy when I told him I had to stay in Rosenthal over the weekend.
I wasn’t happy to hear that Ennis pruned my roses. Even less when Brian told me he might hire her to redecorate “a few rooms” at the tinselhouse.
The following Thursday, a record-breaking windstorm hit Western Oregon, closing all small airports for three days.
The next week, just before I left for the airport, three of our workers had gotten injured. Not critically, but enough to end up in the hospital. I didn’t want to go anywhere until I was sure they were okay. Jason had flown back to Copper Ridge without me.
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“YOU LOOK TIRED,” CHRISTIAN said as he stepped into the office, a cardboard tray with two cups in his hands.
“Good morning to you too,” I said. “I am tired, right, and it’s only Monday. Where’s Marlowe?”
“She has a dental appointment this morning,” he said and walked to my desk. “I brought us coffee.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said, taking one cup from the tray. “I wonder what will happen this Friday to keep me grounded here.” I removed the lid, blew on the coffee and tasted it gingerly. It was still too hot, so I let it cool down a bit.
Christian dragged his chair over to my desk and sat beside me. I could feel the heat of his body, his scent.
“I don’t want to say it, but I’m going to say it anyway,” he said and reached for my hand. “Why don’t you take a week off and go to visit your boyfriend? I’ll hold down the fort.”
I grabbed my coffee cup with my free hand and tried another sip. It was still too hot, but I needed to do something with my hand.
Christian cared about me. So much that he was able to put my needs before his.
It flattered me.
It made me nervous.
“You’re sure you’re not a guardian angel or something?” I said.
Christian gave my hand a light squeeze and released it. “I’ve been thinking about something. I can make you reconsider your relationship with Brian. I can make you fall in love with me, or at least I can try. But what if you two truly belong to each other?”
“We’re not bond mates if that’s what you mean.”
“Two people could belong to each other without being bonded. Bonding’s rare.”
“I agree. Do Tel-Urughs have a bond?” I asked.
“Yes. All humanoids have bonds.”
“What if you were in love with someone, and then suddenly found your bond mate? What would happen then?”
“My bond should overpower my feelings for the woman I was in love with, theoretically speaking. I’d love to challenge this theory, but since that woman isn’t going to give us a chance, it doesn’t matter.”
Some strange sadness washed over me. “Christian, I—”
He raised his hand. “No need to explain, Elizabeth. Now, think about my offer. You can take the first flight to Denver, rent a car there and be in Copper Ridge before nightfall. I’ll take you to the airport.”
Christian Enescu was a complex man. The merciless bounty hunter. A true gentleman. Loyal and unselfish. Someone I would like to know a whole lot better had our circumstances been different.
“Why did you give up?” I asked.
He knew what I was referring to.
“Because I was a bloody idiot. Because you turned me down.” He smirked. “Nothing’s changed, I’m afraid. You’re slipping through my fingers again. Are you, Elizabeth?”
He leaned in and stroked my cheek
I looked at him, breathless, lost in the beauty of his dark, dark eyes.
His lips closed over mine in a long, tender kiss. Everything was in it: longing, regret, joy, hope.
And passion. How could anyone put so much passion into such a gentle kiss?
I should end this, I thought. But I didn’t. For a moment, no matter how brief, it was stronger than I was.
Then the door opened, and Marlowe burst in.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m a bit late. My appointment lasted longer ...” her voice trailed off. She stood at the door, unsure what to do: to flee or to pretend she hadn’t seen anything.
I had the same dilemma as my administrative assistant.
Only Christian looked composed. “Good morning, Marlowe,” he said and stood up. “Elizabeth’s going to Copper Ridge tomorrow, so it’s only you and me till next Monday. I was wondering if we could ask Andrew Prentice to help us out?”
Marlowe, only recently cured of her brief infatuation with Christian, thanked him with a wide, brilliant smile of professionally whitened teeth. “I’ll phone him right away.”
“Ask him if he can come this afternoon so that you can show him around.”
And with this simple sentence, Christian had become the young girl’s real-life hero.
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AND I?
I dreamed of him that night. We stood in a huge room with a stone floor and walls, decorated with medieval tapestries displaying several royal wedding processions. There were swords and armor along the walls, and tall, narrow windows. Behind them, I could see strips of the dark, night sky. I knew we were in Christian’s castle in Wallachia. Or perhaps it was Transylvania; I wasn’t sure.
I knew that the floor was supposed to be cold, but it felt warm under my bare feet. I looked down at my toenails painted in blood red nail polish, peeking under the hem of my gown of a matching color.
Christian and I stood at two ends of a massive, long table. Still, I could see him with perfect clarity: his eyes, burning with passion, dark like polished onyx, his perfect teeth ... His sleek hair that lay unbound over his shoulders, dark like the night outside. His sharp face, the robust and healthy glow of his skin, which was coming from inside, I knew, and not from the big, red fire burning in the hearth behind him. He was in some sort of black attire, with the Roman numerals “VII” and “VIII” embossed on its golden buttons. Ah, of course. He was the seventh Duke of Alba and the eighth Count of Brasov. Alba was in Transylvania. Brasov on the border between Transylvania and Wallachia. Or was it Bran, not Brasov?
Who else was from Bran? It sounded so familiar.
But it didn’t matter, after all, I decided, because Christian’s titles were defunct. He was an architect, and he worked with me in the same office in Zurich.
I heard someone in the kitchenette, fumbling with the coffee machine. The next moment, the big, carved door opened, and Marlowe came out carrying a coffee pot. She looked like Marlowe, but I knew her name was Mina. “More coffee, Your Graces?” she asked, lifting the pot and looking first at Christian then at me.
“Find Ennis and tell her not to touch my roses,” I said to her.
“Right away, Your Grace.” She bobbed a curtsy and she left, taking the pot with her.
Christian walked to me, a snowy white rose in his hand. “For someone who’s had only a few lovers, it’s hard to catch you single, Miss Chatwin,” he said in a husky voice. He took my hand and kissed it, the touch of his lips soft and warm. Then he offered me the rose.
I took it from his hand and looked at it. It started turning red, from the center toward the outer part. A single, tear-shaped drop of warm blood dripped on my palm. I rubbed it and watched it expand until it was the size of a rose.
“And how do you know how many lovers I’ve had?” I asked, amused, and sniffed the rose. It didn’t smell of blood, but rather, of my favorite orange blossom and jasmine bath oil.
“I read your online biography, my lady,” he said.
“Then you know what I yearn for the most?”
“Babies. None of them could give them to you. But I can.”
I woke up crying.
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IT WAS STILL BROAD daylight when I reached Copper Ridge the next day. Happy with the prospect of spending six days with Brian, I turned on the radio in my rented car, found a station with some good ol’ rock and roll, and sang along at the top of my lungs all the way from Denver to Copper Ridge.
It was early summer already and the weather was gorgeous. Brilliant orange, red, purple and yellow illuminated the sky with the magical “golden hour of sunlight,” more glorious here in the mountains than elsewhere thanks to the high altitude. The fresh breeze carried the scent of pine and spruce. Snow-capped mountain peaks sparkled pink under the setting sun. In the distance, the distinctive massive wall of rocks loomed over Copper Ridge and Red Cliffs, brownish-red and sharply outlined against the gilded sky, mighty and vibrant as the people who lived at their base.
A rush of emotion took my breath away: I was returning home.
Harriet was in front of the house when I drove in, with Luna beside her, out of her mind with excitement.
“Elizabeth! What a surprise,” she said as I got out of the car. “We didn’t expect you?”
“I took a week off.” I crouched down to Luna. “Hey, gorgeous. I missed you.” I kissed her head and stroked her long, strong back. I looked up at Harriet. “Where’s Brian? And everyone else?”
“Jason’s in town. Brian and Ennis took Brian’s new horses for a ride.”
Oh. “When did they arrive?” I asked, opening the trunk and taking my suitcase out.
“This morning,” Harriet said, grabbing my luggage. “Let’s get inside, I’ve just made a pot of fresh coffee.”
“Thanks,” I said, my good mood quickly turning sour.
I took my suitcase upstairs. The door to the green room was closed. It couldn’t be opened from Brian’s side, there was no knob there.
I didn’t know what prompted me to go into the hallway and enter my former room from there.
I froze on the threshold.
The room was empty. The beautiful Biedermeier furniture was gone, along with everything else from the room: the thick carpet, lamps, curtains, vases, paintings. The vibrant emerald green walls had been repainted in fashionable, ugly and dull brownish-grey.
I stepped inside and closed my eyes for a second in the childish hope that everything would be the same when I opened them again.
When the first shock subsided, I reminded myself that it had never been my room. Brian had the right to do whatever he wanted with his house.
And I had the right to be hurt as long as no one knew how hurt I was.
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WHEN I WAS A CHILD, there was a boy, a grandson of my parents’ colleague, who’d bully me every time we met. He was perfidious; nice and polite in the presence of adults, he’d turn nasty as soon as no one was looking. He would pull my hair, call me names, mock me. One day, after one of our frequent arguments, he’d grabbed my favorite porcelain doll and smashed it against the wall.
I’d launched myself on him, knocking him on the floor. He was a year older and much bigger, but I was angry and fed up with his bullying. I hit him and hit him and hit him with my small hands. I hurt myself as much as I hurt him because I slapped him with my open hand, not with a fist. He laughed, mocking me and hitting me back, much harder than I hit him. But he couldn’t shake me off.
When my dad pulled me off him, I was screaming at him and sobbing in anger and frustration. My arms and legs were covered with red marks, but he didn’t look much better either.
That was how I felt right now. I wasn’t a child anymore, wanting to smash another person, but for a moment I wanted to scream. I felt hurt and betrayed.
Had Ennis really needed to start her Copper Ridge interior decorating career with my room?
My rational mind told me I was overreacting, but my heart refused to listen. I stood in the empty room for a while, feeling as if something that was mine had been given to someone else.
I swallowed hard and left the room.
I was at the bottom of the staircase when Brian and his riding buddy stepped into the parlor.
“Elizabeth! My god, you’re here!” In the blink of an eye, I was in Brian’s arms, all my troubles temporarily suppressed.
“I wanted to surprise you,” I said, melting against him. “I gave myself a week off.”
Brian framed my face with his warm, big hands and kissed me. “You should have told me, cariad. I would’ve sent Jason to bring you here.”
I glanced at Ennis, so pretty in her low-cut, tight jeans, sweater and running shoes.
Damned Irish lass had already made herself look like an all-American girl.
With a slight arch of the eyebrow, a flare of her nostrils and an almost invisible ironic curve of her lips, Ennis held my gaze, throwing me a challenge.
“Hello, Elizabeth. How’s everything?” Her eyes skimmed over my green dress and suede pumps. “You look very elegant. Going somewhere tonight?”
“Elegance is an attitude, Ennis, but thanks,” I said and took Brian’s hand. “We’re staying in, I believe.” I turned to Brian, who had listened to our exchange with amusement. “Tell me about the new Arabians.”
He answered in Arabic with an old Berber proverb about Arabian horses. “The wind of heaven blows between their ears. You have to name them.”
I smiled, quoting another one, also in Arabic. “Friendship without envy, beauty without vanity, nobility without conceit, a willing partner but no slave. I’ll find them beautiful names.”
He translated our exchange to Ennis, adding, “Elizabeth is the only person in a wide radius with whom I can speak in Arabic.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me tight against him as if I was going to vanish any second. “Good lord Elizabeth, I can’t believe you’re here! Let’s have a drink, ladies. I feel like celebrating.”
I knew it was immature, but I felt like celebrating, too, if only for an entirely different reason. Like scoring twice in two minutes against the girl with a bad case of a crush on my boyfriend.
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I WAS RESOLVED NOT to show how much the disappearance of my green room had upset me, but Brian brought up the topic.
“I don’t know if you saw your old room,” he said once we were alone. “Ennis asked me if she could renovate it first.”
“I did,” I said.
“How do you like the wall color?”
The control over my emotions snapped like a too-stretched elastic band. “I hate it.”
Brian threw his head back and laughed. “I thought you might. You’re not a neutral-color person.”
“No, I’m definitively not. I like them bold, strong and vibrant.”
“Ennis made a few virtual decorative variations of this room. I like the way she thinks, in general. I wanted to combine these two rooms into one big space, like a bedroom and day room together, maybe even a small library, with one bathroom and a walk-in closet. Comfortable, homey, but spacious. I kinda like the wall color, but if you don’t, we’ll repaint it. Talk to Ennis. Tell her what you want. She’ll be thankful for your input.”
Oh, I bet she will. “Where is the Biedermeier set?”
“In Lily’s old room. I know you like it, so you’ll find a use for it.”
I sighed. Ennis was smitten with Brian and I was jealous. She had stepped onto my territory and it made me nervous.
I knew I was being unfair. If Ennis Killian had been attracted to someone else instead of Brian, I would have found her to be a nice girl. She was full of life, smart, funny. I tried even to understand her. Brian was a wonderful man. He was handsome, intelligent, rich; she was young and vulnerable.
Brian trusted me with Christian; I had to trust him with this red-headed troublemaker.
Then my conscience reminded me about a less-than-innocent kiss I’d shared with Christian and a rush of guilt swept over me, reddening my face.
It hadn’t skipped Brian’s attention. Of course. “What?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“What what?”
“You blushed all of a sudden.”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “Can a person have any privacy in the company of werewolves and Tel-Urughs?”
“Why Tel-Urughs?”
Darn. “I’m talking in general.”
“Has His Grace given up on charming you, or do I need to kill him after all?”
Right to the center.
“No need for such drastic measures,” I said and walked to him. Our bodies touched and the tension broke. “Christian is not your competitor for my heart. It belongs to you.” I sighed. “Brian, Christian told me to take a week off. I wouldn’t have been here before Friday otherwise.”
“Oh, he is such a noble man; we established that already. The man can’t help himself; it’s in his blue blood. He knows that knightly manners may be more effective than open persuasion. I warned you about it, didn’t I?”
I sighed. There were too many of us in the room. Christian and Ennis had to leave. Pronto. I missed Brian so much, I hadn’t seen him in weeks, and I had wanted to make love to him.
“Whatever,” I said and without any further comment, started undressing.
It took Brian a nanosecond to respond in the right way. He helped me out of my clothes, and then he undressed. Our green-eyed monsters safely locked in the closet, we spent the rest of the night loving each other under the magical, silvery moonlight pouring into the room through the diamond-shaped panels of the tall, elegant windows.