Vampire Cursed

Copyright ©2012 Dawn Rachel Carrington

ISBN Not Assigned

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

Chapter One

Castle Lehr. She couldn’t believe she was here.  Inside the walls lay the perfect blend of history and eighteenth century beauty.  And she wasn’t just talking about the structure itself.

The owner of the castle had long hidden himself away behind the reinforced walls, and she’d been the only reporter thus far to have been granted an audience.  Fortune had smiled upon her.  Her hands tingled as Abby climbed the stone steps leading up to the double, wooden doors gracing the entrance.

She’d read about the expansive structure with its limestone, but it was the inside she wanted to see.  She’d been salivating at the prospect of catching a glimpse of the castle’s glitter and beauty since she’d suggested this assignment to the senior editor of “Life Abroad” magazine.  The owner’s agreement to take her on a tour had been a definite bonus in her book.  With each step, she silently congratulated herself that she’d made it this far without turning back.  For some unknown reason, nerves had kicked in the second she’d boarded the plane for
England
.

As she reached the top of the stairs lined with potted delphiniums, one of the doors creaked open. Eyes wide, she leaned in toward the opening.  “Hello?”

Eyes the color of mud peered out at her.

Abby gave a little yelp and stumbled backwards. “Hello?” she murmured again. “I’m Abby Baker and I…”

The door opened wider before she could finish her sentence and a portly man wearing a knee-length waistcoat and buckled shoes positioned himself just across the threshold.  “Welcome.”

Abby hesitated before stepping inside.  “I’m not ordinarily so jumpy.  It was probably the movie I watched last night.”  She clutched her leather bag closer.  “All about ghosts and the like.”

“No ghosts live inside Castle Lehr.  I am Mr. Hiller, and on behalf of His Grace, the Duke of Lehr, I welcome you.”  Hiller bowed low.

“You mean a Duke lives here, too?” Abby couldn’t believe her good luck. Talk about a story! “I couldn’t have planned this better, but, correct me if I’m wrong, aren’t the titles just a formality now?”

The look on Hiller’s face told her she’d tapped a nerve. His round nose wrinkled, and his skin reddened to the shade of a ripe apple. “Indeed, no, Madam. The Duke’s title is one of great importance and is his rightful inheritance.”

“Ah.” She figured she better just leave it at that as she didn’t want to get escorted out before the interview even began. “I thought I was meeting the owner of the castle, some guy by the name of John Hiller.”  Her lips pursed.  “Oh.  That would be you.”

“That is correct, Madam. I am the Duke of Lehr’s butler, having served under His Grace for the past twenty-five years.”

She hitched the strap of her purse further up her shoulder.  “So is the Duke the owner then?  Is that why he wants to see me?”  She shivered at the prospect of meeting a real Duke.

“Yes, Ms. Baker, and the Duke enjoys good company.”

“How does he know I’m good company?  I could be a thief or an escaped criminal.”

Mr. Hiller smiled—a mere twitching of his lips.  “My employer has a sixth sense about the people he invites into his home. Now, if you’ll follow me.”

Abby ignored the warning bells clanging in her head and kept pace.

* * * *

“I’m in another world.” She circled the room Mr. Hiller had left her in, her arms held wide.  She certainly couldn’t be faulted for the supposition.

Adorned with Italian old master oil paintings, the walls had been painted a soft cream which offset the nine feet tall ceilings which bore an artist’s depiction of Piero della Francecsa’s The Flagellation.

“Whoever painted that was amazing,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off the work of art.

 “Miss Baker,” Hiller’s voice had her jumping, and she spun around to see the man bowing low at the waist. “May I present the Duke of Lehr.”

Had anyone ever said no to that question? Was it even a question? She swallowed a hysterical giggle. But the moment the Duke approached, all thoughts disappeared.

Her head tipped back to accommodate the difference in their height, and she stared in open-mouthed appreciation. Shoulder-length hair as black as a raven’s wing fell across snowy white ruffles that dipped inside a snug-fitting ebony waistcoat. His eyes reminded her of the color of the water off the shores of
Antigua
.

“Miss Baker?” Hiller cleared his throat in obvious nervousness. Maybe no one had ever stared at his employer for as long as she had.

Refusing to be embarrassed, Abby summoned a smile while continuing to stare at the face carved with a sculptor’s perfection.  Beautiful.  It was the only word that came to mind to describe the magnificence of the man facing her.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.  Welcome to my home.” The Duke bowed low and taking Abby’s hand, pressed a kiss against her knuckles.  She shivered at the touch, while his voice mesmerized her—pure silk.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” she finally managed to say.

“The pleasure is all mine.  Come. We have much to discuss.”  He placed his hand on the small of her back, and heat spiraled low in her abdomen.

Entranced, Abby couldn’t think of one eloquent word to say.  To think, thought, that this was the man she would be interviewing intoxicated her. She’d get to sit across from him for at least an hour, hoping she could form a coherent thought.

“Would you like something to drink? Perhaps a glass of sherry?” The smooth, cultured tones were infinitely polite, charming.  Still, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Abby had always been one to trust her instincts, and something told her to ditch the interview and get out of the castle now. This time, she ignored the still, small voice. Right now, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she wanted to be.

“No, thank you. You have a beautiful home.”
Almost as beautiful as you are.

The Duke smiled. “Thank you. I have to admit,” he poured himself a glass of an amber-colored liquid, “I was beginning to think you were not coming.”

She checked her watch. “I’m not late.”

“No, you misunderstand me. I meant it has taken you quite some time to arrange this interview.”

Her heart seized. “You act like you know me, like you fully intended me to arrange this interview long before I did.”

 “You are correct. I do know you.  You are a reporter, and you’ve come to Castle Lehr because you wish to write about my home, to explore its intricacies, and to discover what lies within its walls.  But much more than that, you’ve come to find what has been missing in your life.”

Abby stared at him, her eyes narrowing.  He spoke with calm assurance that rattled her.  “I only came to capture the beauty of your home and to interview you. Nothing more. If you’re under the impression I’m here for another reason, you’ve been misled.”

With pure grace and charm, the man smiled and unfastened his waistcoat.  “Perhaps, but we’ll have plenty of time to clarify that.”

The nerves had returned, dancing within her stomach like mating butterflies.  “Have you been drinking, Your Grace?”

The smile remained firmly intact as he extended his hand toward a silk brocade settee.  “Please sit, and I will explain.” He walked across the marble floor, removed his coat, and handed it to Mr. Hiller who still stood like a sentry in the doorway of the great room.

“I’ll stand, thank you.”

The Duke inclined his head.  “As you wish.” He gave Hiller a dismissing look then gave her his full attention. “You are a successful writer, but this castle has haunted you for years.  You dream about it at night, about the love you would find within its walls.”  He strolled toward the window, and his linen shirt whispered against broad shoulders. 

Confusion wrapped around her yet her skin warmed from his words.  She barely knew the man.  How could she respond like this?  And furthermore, why wasn’t she negating what he said?

“And you have dreamed about me for even longer.”  The Duke’s voice drew her out of her ruminations, and she jerked suddenly, taking a backward step toward the door.

Her skin tingled, and she took a stumbling step backwards. How could he know anything about her dreams?

“You’re wondering how I could know what you see at night. Abigail.” His softly insistent voice compelled her to turn around.

He was so close.  How had he gotten behind her?  His eyes glittered like blue diamonds set against a bed of black silk, and she sensed the danger even as she looked into the liquid pools.  “Who are you?”

“I am your destiny.”

Abby stared at him a brief moment longer before her legs gave way and darkness enveloped her.

Chapter Two

She came to with a pounding headache and rage curling her insides. 
Destiny my ass
.  The minute she hopped a redeye back to the States, she would fire up her laptop and begin a lengthy dissertation on the horrid nature of this particular London Duke. By the time she was finished, that title would be worth no more than a bag of popcorn at the local movie theater.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to a sitting position. The realization that she wore little more than a flimsy nightgown brought a downward curl to her lips.  No doubt the Duke had fun undressing her while she’d been practically comatose.  Heartless bastard.

A quick survey of her surroundings didn’t put her mind at ease.  Where were the modern conveniences of today’s society?  Why was she seeing a porcelain stand with pitcher and water basin next to the bed?  And what about the lights?  Did the Duke not believe in electricity?

Her teeth chattering, she swept her gaze to the opposite side of the room.  Downstairs, she’d caught a glimpse of the rich furnishings and gilded entranceway, but here, inside the obviously masculine bedroom, she’d been thrust into another century.

The bedroom door swung wide, and the doorway filled with the Duke’s massive frame.  Intimidating and breathtaking, he walked toward her. Abby jumped to her feet and immediately swayed, reaching behind her to grasp hold of the bedpost.  Instantly, he was there, guiding her back to the mattress behind her, but she shook him off. 

“I’m fine.” His touch had wreaked havoc inside her body, causing her heart to hammer against her ribcage.  He made every nerve ending in her body come to life with just the slightest feel of his fingers. She could only imagine what he could with the other parts of his body.