The Vampire & Her Witch

Jocelynn’s destination was Owain’s private chambers, where she had been summoned to join him for an evening meal. Not invited, she noted with a bitter internal humor that she kept carefully hidden behind her veil. Summoned. As if she were a servant to be called, rather than a guest to be courteously requested. As if her time and her grief and her exhaustion were less important than his convenience.

But she would go, because refusing would create a confrontation she did not have the strength for, and because maintaining the appearance of cooperation was the only leverage she had left. She would sit at his table and eat his food and endure his presence, and she would do it with all the grace and composure that her mother had trained into her from childhood, because the price of doing anything else was far too high to contemplate.

When Jocelynn and her retinue reached the wing of Lothian Manor that held the Lothian family’s private chambers, the bustle of activity was just as intense as it was elsewhere in the manor, but the servants moved with a distinctly different purpose.

In the corridors surrounding the great hall, the sitting rooms of the main floor, and even the gardens that dotted the manor grounds, along with the courtyards, servants focused on preparations to entertain honored guests and decorations for the upcoming coronation.

In the Lothian’s private chambers, however, a very different transformation was underway.

At the far end of the corridor, servants were carefully removing chests of clothing, personal items, and even furniture from the chambers that had, until recently, been occupied by Bors Lothian. Over the next several days, the suite of rooms that belonged to the Lothian Marquis would be redecorated to match the tastes of their next occupant as Owain took over the position vacated by his father.

Jocelynn’s hand unconsciously moved to her chest, and the faint scar that was all that remained of the nearly fatal wound Bors Lothian had inflicted on her in those very chambers. Thanks to Eleanor’s miracle, Jocelynn’s body had healed in minutes from a wound that might have taken months to recover from naturally, but the miracle could do nothing to remove the lingering ghost of pain that haunted her still when she thought of what had happened in those chambers, or the profound guilt in her heart for everything that had happened afterwards.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to return to the chambers of the Lothian Marquis, at least, not yet. For now, Owain still resided in his own smaller suite of rooms with a private sitting room and a dining room suitable for up to four or five guests.

”Owain’s sitting room isn’t very large,” Jocelynn said, looking at her retinue. ”Captain Albyn, you can bring two men with you. Captain Devlin, I leave the door to you and two of your men,” she said before turning to the serving maids.

”I expect that Lord Owain will want to discuss sensitive matters tonight,” she said apologetically. ”But Anne, Mary, if he’ll allow it, I’d like the two of you to accompany me during the meal. Even if you only stay long enough to serve the first course, I would appreciate it,” she said.

Since coming to Lothian March, Jocelynn had become accustomed to acting as a junior noblewoman whenever she dined with Owain or his father. At least when she’d dined with Bors, it was normal for servants to set the table and serve the first course before retreating to allow more private conversations to take place, but with Owain, she had always waited on him from start to finish, often doting on him and flirting as she did.

Now, however, she wanted a bit of space between them, even if it was just for a few minutes while she adjusted to being in Owain’s presence again.

It had been difficult to continue to pretend to be infatuated with him even before she learned that he’d been responsible for poisoning his father, causing the madness that had led to her imprisonment and Eleanor’s death.

Ever since he’d confessed to what he’d done, boasting of it as if he’d been a hero who saved their future from his father’s disapproval, it had been all but impossible for her to act around him the way she had just a few months ago. Still, she had to do her best, at least for a few more days. Then, things would end, one way or another, but for now, she needed to appear as though he was still the hero in her eyes that he’d been when she first laid eyes on him.

When she entered, the sitting room was warm and well-lit with a fire crackling in the hearth and candles burning in silver sconces along the walls. Soft, warm-looking furs lay across the sitting room’s sofa, and the low table before the hearth held a bottle of fine wine with two goblets sitting conveniently nearby.

While there were a pair of high-backed arm-chairs nearby as well, one of which was currently occupied by Lord Owain, it was clear from they way he’d set up his sitting room that he’d intended to make it comfortable for the pair of them to snuggle by the fire, sharing a single sofa and wine as the evening wore on, rather than setting his sitting room up to host any of Jocelynn’s attendants.

Owain stood as she entered, and for just a moment, Jocelynn saw genuine surprise cross his features before his practised smile slid into place. He had clearly not expected her to arrive with such a retinue, nor dressed head to toe in the black clothes of mourning.

His own attire was immaculate, a deep blue tunic with gold embroidery that caught the firelight, fitted black breeches, and his chestnut hair was artfully arranged. He looked every inch the young lord preparing to ascend to his father’s seat, handsome and heroic and entirely untouched by the tragedies that had befallen his father, Bors, or his wife, Ashlynn.

”Lady Jocelynn,” he said, recovering smoothly from his surprise. His voice was warm and welcoming, containing a gentleness that just months ago would have made her knees go weak as he directed a soft smile toward her. ”I’m so glad you could join me this evening. I know these past days have been... difficult.”

He moved toward her as if to take her hands in greeting, but the presence of Captain Albyn and two guardsmen filing into the room behind her made him pause, his smile flickering slightly. Behind them came Anne and Mary, the two maidservants, their black dresses and shawls a stark contrast to the warm, romantic atmosphere Owain had clearly intended to create.

”I hadn’t realised you would be bringing such an... extensive escort,” Owain said, and though his tone remained pleasant, there was a tightness around his eyes. ”Please, tell your men they’re welcome to wait in the corridor. I’m sure they’ll be more comfortable there, and we can speak more... freely.”

”Captain Devlin and his men are already in the corridor,” Jocelynn said smoothly. ”Captain Albyn and his men would feel derelict in their duties if they weren’t close at hand to protect me, even if there isn’t anyone here they’d need to protect me from,” she added as she glided forward with steady, graceful steps to take Owain’s hands in her own.

”They’re just honoring Cousin Eleanor, in their own way, sitting out here while we have your dining room to ourselves,” she said, stepping close enough to Owain to briefly press her body against him before moving a step further, pulling him toward the small dining room that was adjacent to the sitting room.

Albyn’s jaw tightened slightly as he watched her draw close to a man that she clearly held no real affection for, but he nodded at her instructions and moved to stand near the door with his two guards, close enough to intervene if needed but far enough to grant the appearance of privacy.

”Anne, Mary,” Jocelynn continued, pausing to glance over her shoulder at the pair of maidservants. ”Lord Owain, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate my maids’ assistance in serving the meal this evening. It’s been a long and exhausting day making arrangements at the temple, and I find myself rather weary.”

Her words had been carefully phrased as a request for Owain’s understanding and hospitality, acknowledging her fatigue while maintaining propriety. It was the sort of reasonable request that no well-mannered nobleman could refuse without seeming childish, especially when the lady in question was recently bereaved and clearly exhausted.

If Jocelynn had been a stranger, or if they’d only recently met with a betrothal arranged between their parents, it would have been exactly the sort of thing that she or any other proper lady would have been expected to say. But when in the past several months had Jocelynn ever acted like a proper lady?

”Of course,” he said smoothly. His smile never wavered, but something flickered in his eyes, frustration, perhaps, or calculation. ”Though if I’m honest, I’d hoped that you and I could share an evening alone together. I know you’ve been working with High Priest Aubin on arrangements for Ashlynn’s memorial, and I wanted to ensure you were... properly cared for during such a trying time.”

As he spoke, he escorted her into the small dining room with one hand holding hers and the other resting on the small of her back, though his fingers twitched briefly with the desire to trace the curve of her slender waist lower. Still, he held himself back in the presence of her serving women.

Soon, the time would come when there was no reason to restrain himself. In just a few days’ time, she would be his in every sense of the word, and the whole world would know it. But, for now, for a few more days at least, he could hold himself back, especially when his plans for Jocelynn this evening would soon turn in a direction that was anything but romantic...