The Vampire & Her Witch

That same night, in a warmly lit dining room adjoining Owain’s quarters in the Lothian Manor, Owain gave a dramatic bow of welcome as he greeted his guest for the evening. After months of chasing ghosts through the brothels and seedier districts of Blackwell City, he was finally once again in the presence of the genuine Jocelynn Blackwell.

Seeing her again made the long months in Blackwell County feel like exile, toiling away without the sight of the sun. Her soft blonde hair shined like spun gold, and she carried herself with the natural confidence of her impressive height, standing tall enough that few men in court could look down on her.

She moved with a grace and elegance that no common or even uncommon whore could immitate, as her pale blue dress clung to a classically proportioned figure that struck the perfect balance countless artists sought to capture in their portraits of noble ladies. And when she smiled at him, the gloom that had settled over his heart lifted like fog retreating before the sun.

”My Lady Jocelynn,” he said, extending his hand to escort her into the dining room. The servants had already prepared their feast for the evening before he’d sent them away. Tonight, he would dine privately with the woman he longed to possess more than any other. ”I’ve prepared something special for us this evening,” he said in a voice that was rough with barely contained desire.

Ever since his return two nights ago, he’d been bound to a formal dance of banquets, working lunches, and even garden tea parties where he introduced Master Isabell to the wives and daughters of the local barons, despite the fact that there was nothing blooming in the gardens and they never left the covered gazebo to stroll between the seemingly endless cups of tea.

Everything had been so stiff, formal, and public that he didn’t dare greet Jocelynn the way he wanted to, with a firm embrace and passionate kiss, but even now that they were alone, he had to restrain his pulsing desires.

Soon, they would announce the tragic death of Ashlynn Blackwell in labor. Only afterward could he be seen to grow close to her younger sister, and if he touched her now, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back when it mattered. Soon, he would have his reward for all of the suffering he’d endured since the disastrous night he married Ashlynn, washing it away with the sweet taste of her youthful sister, but until then, he could only court Jocelynn covertly in private moments like this.

”My hero,” Jocelynn said, taking his arm and pressing her modest bosom against it as she pressed close enough to him to feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of their clothing. She was tall enough that lesser men could never measure up to her, but next to Owain’s mighty frame, she felt secure and protected by his knightly stature and powerful physique. ”You must have suffered away from home for so long,” she said, gazing up at him with limpid eyes the color of seafoam. ”I hope the journey wasn’t too hard on you.”

”Nothing was harder on me than being away from your radiant beauty,” Owain said, giving her a bright smile that melted her heart and warmed her to her toes. ”I brought a gift for you,” he added, pulling a small, velvet-lined wooden box from his tunic and presenting it to her with a flourish. ”I’m told these have special meaning in Blackwell County.”

Jocelynn’s heart leaped at his words, and her fingers trembled as she took the slender box from his hands. There were few traditions in Blackwell County that involved jewelry, but there was one that would fit in just such a box.

Among noblemen, a man who intended to court a woman would present her with a strand of pearls and jewels. The center point of the necklace should be the largest pearl of the strand, symbolizing the light of the Holy Lord of Light shining on their union. After that, jewels of two colors that represented the couple would alternate with an increasing number of pearls, symbolizing the ever-growing length of time their relationship would endure.

When she opened the box, however, her heart sank, and she struggled to keep a look of disappointment from appearing on her face. Owain had, indeed, found her a necklace that spoke of a couple’s love, but in place of lustrous pearls, the strand contained simple seashells, while the jewels had been replaced with bits of polished sea glass in common green and brown.

”It, it’s lovely,” Jocelynn said, closing the box and setting it aside. ”But it can’t compare to how lovely it is to see you again, my hero,” she said, lightly touching his arm and feeling the strength of his muscles beneath the finely woven tunic. ”And the feast is an even greater treat,” she said, noticing a hearty fish stew and fillets of pickled herring set out alongside local lamb and venison sausage. ”Shall I serve you, my Owain?” she said, stepping up close to him and fluttering her eyes slightly before glancing away, as if she was embarrassed to be so close to him while they were alone.

”Please,” Owain said, taking a seat and doing his best to pretend he hadn’t noticed her disappointment. It was entirely his father’s fault! Negotiations with the merchants had dragged on for months, but when he finally wrote to his father to resolve the points of contention, his father only sent back instructions, without sending any additional pocket money for comforts during his journey.

If not for the stiff, almost obligatory hospitality provided by Count Rhys Blackwell, Owain might have found himself unable to pay for a place to stay and meals for himself and his men toward the end of his mission. The necklace he’d bought from a common street shop had consumed nearly a quarter of his remaining pocket money before they left, and while it would have been an extravagant gift for the daughter of a tradesman, it was far, far beneath Jocelynn’s standards, and they both knew it.

”You know,” Jocelynn said as she prepared Owain’s plate, filling it with a portion of stew and extra venison sausage that she imagined he would prefer after being away from home for so long. ”I served a private meal for Father-in-law not long ago,” she said, changing the topic to the one she was most desperate to discuss with him after she had met with the Marquis.

”With Father?” Owain asked, pausing as he settled into his chair. ”What did Father want with you?”

”You should calm yourself,” Jocelynn warned him, pouring a large cup of wine and passing it over before she set the plate before him. ”We still have time to obtain everything we desire and more, but we must move quickly before the year ends.”

”Just say it, my radiant Jocelynn,” Owain said as a pit of dread formed in his stomach. He’d already endured one tongue lashing from his father for the number of concessions he’d made to the merchant guilds and his failure to secure an agreement in time to prepare for next year’s campaign season. His supposed ’blunders’ had, in his father’s eyes, cost them an entire year of delays, and the Marquis hadn’t been restrained about voicing his disappointment with Owain in private.

”Father-in-law, he,” Jocelynn started, hesitating slightly and biting her lip. ”He is considering naming your brother Loman as his heir,” she said in a rush as she watched Owain’s face begin to darken. ”And he, he wants me to let Loman court me in the spring.”

”He WHAT!?” Owain exploded, his face turning purple in rage. ”How dare he give my throne away! And to offer up my bride as Loman’s prize when he’s done nothing to deserve you... Does he intend to take everything from me?”

”What else did he say?” Owain asked, rounding on Jocelynn and clutching the knife beside his plate in a clenched fist. ”And what did you say to his offer?”