The Witch's Thief (18 page)

Upon completion, Julia fell upon Basil’s chest, her hair spilling over him, shrouding them both. He ran his fingers through the silky strands, liking the texture against his skin.

If only he could have forever with her.

“I love you, Julia.”

Her arms tightened around him, gathering him closer as if she planned to never let him go again. “Oh, Basil,” she said, his name falling from her lips like a sigh. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.”

“I’m sorry I’ve wasted so much time. I was fool. I was searching for…something.”
Ah, Gods!
He cringed, still having difficulty saying the words.

“Did you find it?”

“I did not.”

“Do you plan to continue your search?”

He let out a sigh, her body moving with the rhythm of his breathing. “No.”

She lifted her head, placing her chin on her folded hands on his chest. She smiled. “Good. I missed you terribly while you were gone.”

Little else could send shooting pains through his heart than those words or the expression of happiness and contentment on her face.

He must have showed his discomfort, for her head jerked up. “What?”

Basil looked away.
Coward
! He couldn’t even bring himself to look into her eyes. Suddenly the wall of his bedchamber looked most interesting.

“Basil? Are you leaving again?”

This was it. He could delay it no longer. He forced his gaze back to hers. He lifted his hand to brush the hair away from her face. Ah, what a face! She was such a beauty with her fair skin and green eyes. He wanted to memorize each feature, to never forget what she looked like in this moment, to carry an image of her seared in his mind even into the afterlife.

“Not willingly,” he said in answer to her question. He kept his voice calm, serene even, as he continued. “Julia, there’s something I should have told you a long time ago. I’m dying.”

The words tasted like dust. He kept his gaze on her, watching her reaction. Trying to prepare his heart for her anger, her dismay, her hate. Yes, that’s what he feared the most. He didn’t realize it until that moment. He was afraid. What if she left him? What if when she learned he had this most horrible disease, she would cut ties with him rather than watch him suffer until the end?

But, she just stared. For several moments, she studied his face. Measuring the look in his eyes perhaps? He didn’t know what exactly she looked for, but his heart thumped wildly, waiting for her answer.

“I know,” she said, her voice calm and serene.

“You know?” Again, the dust smothered him as he spoke. He needed a drink, a stiff drink. Soon. He wondered if Sage would return with a bottle in anticipation of his needs.

“The,” Julia began, but faltered. She studied him again, although her eyes had widened a bit. Her fingers tightened into fists on his chest.

He gave her the time she needed to continue. She said she knew of his condition. Had she guessed it when he needed her help to stand last night? There must be any number of reasons for his condition upon his arrival last night. At the moment, he couldn’t think of any save the truth. But, how had she guessed it?

He waited for her to continue and while he did, he studied every feature of her face, every curve, every pore on her perfect skin. He smiled as he admired her beauty.

“I recognized the symptoms. Susanna had…it,” Julia said, unwilling to say the name of the disease that claimed the woman’s life. “I stayed with her, did you know? Until the very end. That’s what drove Drake to insanity. His wife meant everything to him and he tried beyond all measure to save her.”

She paused for a moment.

“How long have you had it?” she asked, nearly choking on the words.
Ah, the dust has settled in her mouth, too.

“Ten years.”

Her eyes lit with understanding. “That’s why you left.”

He nodded. “I thought to find a cure. I’ve been to every witch and sorcerer I could find. I’ve followed every clue and rumor. I’ve traveled to four continents, into jungles and deserts. Into crowded cities and the remotest villages. I’ve found an herb that suppresses the condition, perhaps prolongs life a bit, but no cure. In fact, I never expected to live even this long.”

“Then you never planned to return, did you?”

He shook his head. “How could I? When all I could give you was grief? You know typically after the first signs of the disease, the sufferer will last only a few months, maybe a few years. Little did I know the herb I found would help prolong it. But the symptoms continued unabated. My episodes are more frequent and last longer each time. It will not be much longer.”

“How long, do you think?”

Basil shrugged, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “Days. Maybe weeks. Not more than that, I fear.”

“Weeks,” she whispered, her eyes going distant as she stared solemnly into nothing for a while. A tear glistened in the corner of her eye.

This was it. Now, she will rage for not telling her sooner. For lying.

But, she shook her head, as if snapping out of the trance she had succumbed to.

To his utter surprise, she smiled. “Well, then we’d better make the most of the time left to us.”

She lowered her head and kissed him. Basil lost himself for several heated moments, but at last he pulled away to look up.

“You do not hate me? You’re not going to scream in rage because I lied?”

“I could never hate you, Basil,” Julia said, stroking his chin with her fingertip. “And what good would screaming or crying do? If my tears would cure you, I’d cry enough to fill oceans. But, it will do no good. I’ll weep for you, this is true. At some moment I must. But, if we have only a brief time together, then I’m not about to waste precious moments on tears. I’d rather spend it loving you, showing my love for you, loving you enough to last a lifetime.”

“Oh, Julia,” he said then sighed. “Marry me, Julia. Be my wife.”

She nodded, smiling and again tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes. “Yes, my love. Yes.”

Chapter Eleven

Several days later, Julia had just finished pouring tea at the table by Basil’s bedside when Mrs. Prescott entered, gathering her shawl close around her shoulders.

“You have a caller, Basil,” Mrs. Prescott said upon entering. “I’ve just encountered Parker on the stairs. He tells me there is a man here to see you.”

“Did he give his name?”

“A Mr. Reed, he tells me.”

Basil straightened, a broad smile lighting his face. “Indeed?”

“Shall I have Parker bring him up?”

“Yes, please do,” he answered, the grin never leaving his face. Mrs. Prescott nodded her approval and stepped out to speak with Parker who hovered by the doorway.

Julia leaned forward. “Who is Mr. Reed?”

“He’s my assistant. I found him in Belgium about six years ago about to be beaten to death by a band of ruffians. I intervened and saved his life. He returned the favor by saving mine, more than once I might add.”

“Oh,” Julia said, leaning back as Mrs. Prescott re-entered the room.

“I’ve spoken with the girls. Melora was finally able to find a mirror to use for contact,” she said and lowered herself into her favorite chair which the servants had moved up from the library several days ago. Julia poured another cup of tea, preparing it the way the dear old lady liked it.

“And how do they do?” Basil asked, carefully sipping the hot liquid while sitting propped up by pillows in his bed. His hand trembled as he lowered the teacup. “Do they still need rescuing? Since the snow has finally stopped, Sage can ready the horses and be on his way in an hour’s time.”

“Oh, Basil. Would he, do you think?” Aunt Petunia asked. “I won’t rest easy until they’re home safe.”

“Of course, though it’ll be a few days before he can get them home. Uncle Arden’s estate is at least two days journey south of here. And I suppose he’ll have a few words to say about their departure.”

“Oh, no, Sage won’t have to travel there, after all. They’re staying at a house west of here. Caldwell House.”

“Caldwell? Never heard of it.”

“It’s owned by a Mr. Collins.”

“Well, how the devil did they end up there?”

“It’s a long story. Each has their tale to tell. But, here’s the thing, Basil, which has me out of sorts with worry. They’re both in love.”

“With Mr. Collins?”

“No, no,” she said, waving her hands at his misinterpretation. “Melora says she’s in love with Mr. Collins, and Lillian is to marry Lord North.”

“North? I haven’t heard of him either.”

“I have,” Julia said, joining the conversation. She set her cup of tea on the tray. “Lord Jeremy North is very handsome, I hear.” She smiled as Basil slanted a look her way. “And very wealthy. He’s quite a catch, they say.”

“Do they?” Basil muttered, staring into the bottom of his teacup. Was he wishing for something a little stronger than tea?

“He does, however, have some odd habits, they also say. He sends his entire staff on holiday once a month, every month.”

“Must be an eccentric,” Mrs. Prescott added.

“Indeed,” Basil muttered again.

Julia glanced his way. He still seemed disgruntled over her ‘handsome’ remark. She reached for him, wrapping her slender fingers around his hand.

“You’re much better looking, Mr. Merriweather,” she whispered as Mrs. Prescott launched into a long list of reasons why his sisters needed to be delivered home at once.

He grinned, and Julia realized he must have been funning her. He clasped her hand. She blushed, but did not worry over any comment Mrs. Prescott might utter. They explained their intentions to her on the same day they returned from Drake’s castle.

She had been happy beyond belief, especially when Basil informed her that he intended to remain at Merriweather Manor and halt his world-traveling. He did have to explain the other reasons he intended to stay, and he would have waited a day or so before he approached her about it. But, his illness grew worse. He had no choice but to explain why he had such difficulty standing without assistance.

His aunt had been upset, considerably at first, but later she admitted she suspected something of the sort. Basil had never been one for travel when he was young, more the responsible sort that stayed home to see to family. When he left and didn’t immediately return, her heart told her something was amiss.

Julia wasn’t sure if what his aunt said was true, or if she merely wished to take the weight of guilt from his shoulders. He was sensitive about those in his family since he loved them dearly.

She gave his hand another squeeze before pouring more tea.

“I haven’t even told you the worst,” Mrs. Prescott said, oblivious to the heated looks Julia received from Basil, and she to him.

“I implore you, Aunt, tell us all,” Basil said, grinning at Julia. She doubted he’d heard a word of his aunt’s dissertation. He’d spent the last few moments ogling her in such a way Julia couldn’t stop from imagining what he intended later. He was certain to demand she sneak into his room, as she had every night since they promised to marry. On the nights he had no strength to express his love in a physical manner, they would hold each other close before drifting off to sleep.

“Well, Melora tells me, and I must beg secrecy from the both of you, but of course you can keep secrets especially regarding family, and just the way your sister went on about this man, I’m all but certain he will become family in a short while, but I’m getting ahead of myself. What was I saying?”

“Melora says…” Julia prompted.

“Ah, yes! But, not Melora. No, it’s about Mr. Collins. He’s…” She paused, leaning forward to whisper the word. “A vampire.”

Basil snorted into his tea.

Julia jumped in surprise and grabbed a cloth to help him wipe the tea away from his mouth, nose and chin. He coughed, sputtered and laughed, taking the cloth and wiping his face.

“You cannot be serious,” he said.

“Did I not teach you about such creatures, my boy?” Mrs. Prescott asked, scolding. “Then again, you and your brothers were never ones to sit still long enough for some of my lessons. It was a wonder you learned any spells at all.”

“But, vampires are mythological,” Julia said. Unlike Basil, she remembered her lessons. While the boys manifested frogs to put on their sister’s beds at night, she actually studied and worked on growing her practically non-existent powers.

“No, they’re quite real,” Basil said, his coughing subsided. “I met a few during my travels.”

Julia gasped, then shuddered. “Are they not evil creatures?”

“Certainly not,” he explained. “They were human once. When they are turned, they take on many of the traits they had as humans. Only if they were evil humans, will they be evil as vampires.”

“Melora wouldn’t fall in love with anyone of that nature, I’m certain,” Julia said to Mrs. Prescott, hoping to alleviate the old woman’s worries.

“No, no, you are right. I suppose he must have some redeeming qualities for her to love him.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“I had hoped both of your sisters might find a nice witch to settle down with, maybe even a sorcerer. I knew no good would come sending them off to my brother’s estate.”

“Well, Lord North sounds like a good sort,” Basil said. “I suppose you should be happy Lillian has found someone, though not of witch blood, at least he’s not a vampire.”

“No,” Mrs. Prescott said. “But, Melora mentioned we had some spell work to do for him. Something in the spring. I have my suspicions.”

“Quit your worries, dear aunt,” Basil said, smiling. “All will end well, I’m certain.”

A knock at the door ended their conversation and by Basil’s command the door opened to reveal a man with brown hair and deep blue eyes, dressed in coordinating colors of brown and tan. At first glance, the man appeared to be an ordinary commoner, his clothes well-worn and stitched with care in places that were previously torn. With nothing unusual or outstanding about him, Julia did not notice at first the glint of intelligence in his eyes. Seeing it now, she also noticed his proud stature, the confident way he held his fit and trim body and the way his bright gaze assessed each occupant in the room with calculated measure.