Desired as his Vampire Duchess

4: Wake

Valentina

At first, I thought the rubies were just catching the light, but then I realized they were glowing from within, the rich red color shining onto my gloved fingers. The ravens almost looked alive with their eyes aglow.

Then, just as suddenly, it was gone. I glanced around. Did anyone else notice? No, it didn't seem like they had.

Carefully, I set the ring back in its box and closed the lid. What if the ring was radioactive or something? I'd never heard of such a thing, but I didn't have the same experience as the other restorers. I found myself wishing Frank was here. As the head restorer, he would know.

I turned my attention back to the folder, looking for answers. Two pages later, and I had nothing but more questions. The biggest mystery was surrounding the ring's disappearance and resurfacing. Around 170 years ago, William Blackthorne—the duke at the time, and only twenty-six years old—died under mysterious circumstances, and the ring disappeared at the same time. With no direct heir, the title had passed to a cousin with the same surname, but the entire house withdrew from society. Even today, they were never in the news, never went to official events or gatherings for nobles. It was almost like they didn't exist at all, save for the huge chunk of the country that made up the duchy. The ring had been discovered in some warehouse only four years ago—on my eighteenth birthday no less—and had bounced from auction house to private sale, until the museum finally got its hands on it. Nobody, from the ducal family had come to claim it.

I leaned back in my chair. I was dying to uncover the secrets of this ring. How did it disappear? Why was the House of Windmere so silent? What really happened to William Blackthorne?

Making a decision, I stood up abruptly. "Ryan," I called out as I walked over to him. He was up near the ceiling, still working on the faded varnish tinting the clouds.

He didn't even look at me, he was so focused. "What," he said absently, working carefully with his tools.

"Am I allowed to travel? You know, for research purposes?" I asked.

"Sure," Ryan answered. "Why, you got somewhere to be?"

I clapped my hands together. "I most definitely do."

---

The Windmere Duchy was only an hour-and-a-half from the museum, but it took nearly two hours to get to the ducal seat, which was a castle nestled in the hills. My mouth dropped open from the sheer size of the estate. The gate was wide enough to fit three vehicles side by side and made of stately wrought iron with delicate filigree patterns along the top. Upon closer inspection, I saw several ravens worked into the detail, reminiscent of the ring that was currently tucked in my bag. It was humbling, in a way, the idea of bringing the ring back to its original home. Even if it was just for a visit.

Just as I was searching for some kind of intercom, the gates slid open. There must be a hidden camera system. I put my car in drive and rolled slowly forward, officially entering the estate belonging to the Duke of Windmere.

I gasped when I emerged from the long scenic drive and the castle itself finally came into view. It was huge, yet somehow fit perfectly in with its surroundings. I parked off to the side in the pea gravel and got out of my car. There were no other vehicles or people in sight. If it weren't for how well the house and grounds were kept, I would have thought it was abandoned. The whole place exuded an air of mystery.

I squared my shoulders and marched up to the large double doors, painted black with an elegant raven door knocker on the front. I tapped the knocker three times and waited.

After a few moments, the lock clicked quietly and the door swung open. At first, it appeared that it happened completely on its own, but then a man in a charcoal suit stepped forward.

"Good afternoon, Miss, may I help you?" he said pleasantly, if a little stiff. He was very different from what I imagined a stereotypical butler would be, with dark eyes and a pale complexion and an obviously fit physique beneath the suit.

"Good afternoon, I'm Valentina Bowman, from the museum in the capital," I began professionally. "I'm here because the museum came into possession of an artifact believed to previously belong to the Duke of Windmere, and I was hoping I could find out more about it."

The butler's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Yes. Please come in."

"Thank you, Mr..."

"Roberts, Miss Valentina," he led me to the bottom of the grand staircase. "The library is the most likely place you'll find what you seek. Go up the stairs to the top floor, then go down the east hall, and to the left you'll find a library," he explained.

"You're not going to come with me?"

"Unfortunately, no. Please excuse me, I have matters to attend to," said Mr. Roberts, bowing as he disappeared from the grand foyer.

"O-okay. Thank you!" I called out, clapping my hand over my mouth when I heard my voice echo. Castles were definitely not the place to shout.

I padded up the stairs down the hall, admiring the different works of art along the way. The whole thing was very strange. I knew the Blackthorne family was reclusive, but that didn't add up to the butler letting me roam free in the duke's home. Wouldn't he want to protect his master's privacy?

"The left..." I trailed off. I'd followed the butler's directions, but there were several doors on the left side of the hallway. Which one was it? "Ooh, maybe they all lead to the library, and it's just really huge!" I approached the door that was flanked by two pillars with incredibly lifelike raven carvings on them that looked like the main entrance. I grasped the brass doorknob and turned it. Old as the house was, the door opened on silent hinges, a testament to the care the staff had taken with the place. I gasped when I stepped inside. But it wasn't because of the bountiful books in the library.

It was because it wasn't a library at all. It was a bedroom.

A bedroom with a sleeping man in it.

---

I whirled around, intending to leave immediately. How could the butler send me alone to the same part of the house as the private sleeping quarters? I couldn't believe I had invaded someone's privacy in such an intimate way.

Yet, when I was almost through the door, I heard a low humming noise and came to a stop. At first, I thought I had set something off in the room, but then I realized it was coming from my own bag, and was definitely not my phone.

As though in a trance, I reached into my bag, my fingertips finding the ring box easily. I wasn't imagining things. The box was vibrating. What kind of ring was this? I hadn't read anything about a mechanical component in the folder or with my own eyes, but between the glowing of the rubies and now this...

I opened the box. The rubies were glowing again, and the low hum grew louder, emanating from the ring itself. It seemed almost alive, and what was even crazier, I could tell that it wanted something. It was drawing me into the room.

Slowly, I turned around again to face the bed. It was a wrought iron four-poster with intricate designs, with sheer fabric drawn back around it. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, the perfect picture of luxury.

There was still a sleeping man in it.

I crept closer. The man had dark brown hair, a handsome face, and looked maybe a few years older than I was. I could tell that if he were to stand up, he would be at least a head taller than me. He was lying in the center of the bed on top of the duvet, with his hands resting by his sides, dressed in a vintage suit. It was an oddly formal way to sleep.

The humming and vibrations grew stronger the closer I got, until I was right up next to the bed, not two feet away from the man. "This is outrageous," I murmured, looking at the ring incredulously. I didn't believe a single bit in magic, but at that moment, I had no explanation for what was happening otherwise. "Am I...supposed to reunite the signet ring with its rightful owner?"

As if in reply, the ring flashed and a ringing sound that quickly grew earth-shatteringly loud, making me clutch at my ears and whimper in distress. "Okay, okay!" I yelped, reaching out and grabbing the box again. The ringing dissipated, but only slightly. Feeling like my head was about to explode, I yanked the ring out of the box and, all caution to the wind, leaned forward and put it in the sleeping man's hand.

Immediately, the ringing stopped. The room was dead silent. I was frozen in place, leaning awkwardly on the bed, afraid that everything would start bombarding my senses again if I backed away.

I stared at the man. He looked completely serene, unbothered by the fact that a strange woman had barged into his room and jammed a centuries-old piece of jewelry into his hand while he slept.

Then I panicked, biting my lip nervously, so hard that I tasted blood a second later. "Oh my god, you're not breathing, he's not breathing!" my voice rose at the end, hoping the butler could hear me. I scrambled onto the bed to administer CPR.

"Okay, uh...chest compressions! Right!" I said frantically, putting my hands over his heart. A few pushes later, I knew it wouldn't work. Being on a bed made the action useless. "What's next, what's next...rescue breaths!" I repositioned myself by his face. "Sorry for this," I apologized, tilting his head back, plugging his nose, and putting my lips to his.

In a flash, I found myself in a seated position. I blinked, completely disoriented. Did I pass out? I must have, for nothing else would explain how I was currently seated in the lap of the very same—and very awake—man I was trying to revive only moments ago.