Part 10 (1/2)

Without waiting for an introduction, the group began to play an intricate melody so unsuited to Mina's ears that she could only distinguish the deepest drum and the tanbur, which whined at such a high tone that it seemed to be buzzing in her head. Attention was centered on the door, and a moment later two men and a woman entered.

The men wore white cotton s.h.i.+rts and trousers, but instead of turbans, their heads were shaved. The woman, her face and hair and body covered with thin silk veils in clas.h.i.+ng shades of red and gold and purple, moved at their center like a b.u.t.terfly among camellias. Though her entire body was covered, except for her eyes and her hair, the way the thin fabric clung to her made it obvious that she wore little underneath the outer gown.She took a place among the musicians while the men who had come in with her began to move in time to the music-swaying, whirling, apart then together, until Mina was certain they were not Arabs or Turks but dervishes from India. When it seemed that they were incapable of moving any faster, the men began a tumbling act, bouncing off each other's shoulders and arms. Each trick was more complex than the last, and the audience applauded enthusiastically.

The music s.h.i.+fted, becoming slower, more sensual. The woman stepped forward and began to dance. The sinewy movements of her arms, the soft motion of her bare feet on the wood floor had an exotic beauty. Though her body moved in the most provocative way, the mask on her face gave her a remoteness that kept attention fixed on her art.

Mina tried to focus only on the dance, though the way the dancer moved beneath her flowing silks reminded her---No, not here, she admonished herself so sternly that she nearly said the words aloud.

Mina glanced at Jonathan. His eyes were focused on the woman, his hands beating time against his thighs. His mouth was slack.

Had they been alone, she would have kissed it. Instead she merely looked away, letting the music lead her thoughts.

The woman danced through three more songs then fell to her knees, signaling that her performance was over.

One of the musicians whispered something to the dancer then unhooked the veil that covered her face.

The woman's arms remained at her side, but Mina saw them tense, fighting the urge to cover her face. The men applauded; a few women did as well, but only out of politeness. Mina did not applaud at all. She saw the woman's expression. She knew exactly what the musician had done.

How dare the man! she thought. And how dare Lord Gance allow it. Didn't he understand what that act meant to the woman?

”Jonathan, it's getting late. Would you take me home?” she asked when the performers had left the room. As they said good-bye to their host, Gance noted Mina's disapproval. He drew her aside and whispered, ”The man was her husband, Mrs. Harker. He had the right.”

”And you the power to stop it,” she countered.

Gance watched them go and thought, happily, that he had broken through her defenses. Yes, he would definitely see her again.

ELEVEN

I

”You were so lovely tonight,” Jonathan said as he helped Mina unhook her gown. He lit the candles beside their bed and on her dressing table, then turned out the gaslight. As he did, she unpinned her hair. It fell over her shoulders in a warm cascade. He loved her hair-its color, the subtle perfume of the shampoo she used. She reached for the brush, but he took it instead and stood behind her, running it through the tight curls. ”Gance wasn't the only one watching you, though he was the most obvious.”

Mina laughed. ”Should I wear something less revealing next time?”

He kissed her shoulder. ”Let them look,” he said.

But Jonathan knew he didn't mean it, at least not where Gance was concerned.

Jonathan's jealousy astonished him, for he had never felt anything like it before. On the journey with the men, he had noticed Seward watching Mina with more than clinical concern. He had understood that they all loved her, all respected her strength and common sense, and he had even taken some comfort in knowing that if he had died, one of them would have eventually married her. But those were all good men, who would have seen to her needs and welfare. Perhaps his jealousy stemmed more from Lord Gance's reputation with women. It was said that Gance seduced them, used them, abandoned them. There were even rumors of suicide connected with his affairs and, so barbaric in these times, a duel.

And that creature had held Mina, had stared at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-so beautiful against the dark velvet of her dress-had touched her hair, inhaled the scent of her perfume.

Jonathan had almost lost her once, he would never allow it to happen again. He wished there were some prayer he could say to guard her against every evil, human or otherwise, some way to ensure that a creature like Gance could never touch her. A way ...

”Jonathan?” Mina turned sideways. ”Jonathan, if you're not going to use the brush, give it to me.”

He stroked her hair a few more times, watching the sparks he raised flicker in the dimly lit room, then set it down. Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet, turned her to face the mirror and began to undress her, the articles of clothing falling one after another like Salome's veils. She tried to touch him, to kiss him, but he would not allow it. With this act, he claimed his owners.h.i.+p of her. He would not excuse it, or apologize for it. It had to be done. I alone see you like this, he thought. I alone. No one else.

When he'd finished, he stepped back and undressed quickly, watching her all the while. So beautiful. His Mina. His wife.

He pulled the covers back, drew her to him and onto the bed.

He had been so careful with her until now. In the beginning, when he had been recovering, he had so little strength. Then ... well, he would not think of that, or the child. There would be children enough in the life that stretched ahead of them.

As for now, though they had slept together for weeks, this seemed like his wedding night. The pa.s.sion that flowed through him was more than s.e.xual, more than love. He had been touched by evil and survived, and she was another of his kind.

His lovemaking-if this could be called by so civilized a term-was intense, over soon after it began, leaving him with no strength to continue. Jonathan rolled up on his elbow and kissed Mina's forehead. As he did, he noticed how bright her eyes were in the soft candlelight, and how quickly she turned her head away when he noticed the tears.

He didn't ask what was wrong, for he was certain he already knew. He had approached her too soon, too roughly.

Indeed, he had acted as if she were his mistress, not his wife, a creature to be used solely for his own pleasure, as Gance undoubtedly used the dancer Jonathan had seen tonight. He gathered Mina into his arms, murmured that he loved her and closed his eyes.

Sleep eluded Mina. She lay thinking about what she had almost done, frustrated by what she had almost felt.

Had almost done what? Lost that terrible control that had been pounded into her soul from the time she was a child? Submit, do not enjoy. Love, do not desire.

Pa.s.sionless. Shame-filled. It wasn't right. The vampire's blood still strong in her screamed that it wasn't right. If she had been alone, she would have satisfied herself. Instead she lay and let silent tears flow as she mourned the freedom she wished she had.

... Then the room in the castle where the women lay took shape around her. Mina had just torched the tapestries, but when she tried to move toward the staircase, she saw that the floor was covered with newborn kittens, pawing at one another, their helpless mewing terrible to hear. She looked at the flames and tried to brush their tiny, almost hairless bodies out of her way so she could run. The attempt was useless. So many, so many. She ran anyway, and as she stepped on them, they mewed and crumbled into dust ...

Sat.u.r.day morning, as always, Jonathan rose early, dressed quietly and went to work. Mina woke later. The room was cold, and she hastily lit the wood Laura had arranged on the hearth and ran back to bed. Her daily diary was in the drawer of her bedside table. She took it out and began recording last night's events in shorthand. Near the end, she added a personal comment.

As I whirled with Lord Gance though his ballroom, I found myself strangely attracted to the man. Perhaps this is because of all I have heard about him. It is a heady feeling to be with a man in public who would be dangerous in private.

A plea for mercy would fall on deaf ears, a plea for restraint-well, if half of what Winnie tells me is true, he would only laugh. It is a potent fantasy, and nothing more. Still . . .

She paused in her writing. This was the diary she kept where Jonathan could read it at any time. With perverse pleasure, she realized that she wished he would. She was no angel, no carefully clothed porcelain doll, but a woman. If he read this, he would not mention it any more than she could voice aloud the following words.

But if he read them, he might understand. With excitement, she went on.

... it was a pleasure to see the jealousy so clear in Jonathan's expression, to stand in the center of our bedroom later and watch him claim me as his, to be wanton and demanding in his arms. I need this pa.s.sion. I need it desperately. Too often I fear that I will only feel it a few times in our marriage and that, tragically, I will never know the moment when it ends.

There was much to be done before Christmas. She put the book away, put on a simple gown and went downstairs, where Laura had been cleaning the dining cupboard. The silver service was large enough to serve the firm's clerks and their wives, but the linens were yellowed, many in need of mending.

”Not one to entertain, was he?” Laura commented.

”My husband used to say that Mr. Hawkins was like all good solicitors. All he needed was a box of hand-rolled cigars, twenty- year port and a client, or better yet, two.” Thinking Laura might misinterpret her remark, Mina added, ”Still, though he may have been something of a recluse, he made Mr. Harker and I feel at home. Would that he were here to share the house with us as he planned.”

Laura had begun dusting the china when the front bell rang. The girl ran for the door and returned a short time later with a wrapped parcel for Mina. Inside she found a mound of shredded green velvet and a note which read, Dear Mrs. Marker. I am sending you my coat as it now is. I do this so that you will never hesitate to wear the gown which so enhances you own beauty. Yours truly, G.