6. Chapter 5

It had been weeks since I visited Castle Lleauwen. This little project of mine had cost me over a billion dollars, but I didn't mind. The money came easy. Ironically, it seemed harder to spend it than to make it. I had never denied myself anything. I owned the most expensive yachts, jets, helicopters, estates, and toys imaginable without experiencing much pleasure over them. This castle, however, was different.

As technology finally caught up with my dream of owning Castle Lleauwen, I spared no expense to make it mine and have it transported from Wales to here, rock by rock.

I purchased it a hundred years ago, right after my father pardoned and freed me. I spent a fortune to have it restored to the way I remembered it.

Once a year, I visited for a week to remind myself of Blanche and what I had lost. Now that the castle was here, in the States, I visited it more frequently.

On good days, I imagined seeing her ghost wandering the endless hallways or climbing into the saddle of her horse—she had been the best rider I had ever seen. The first time I ever laid eyes on her was while she was riding—when she fled from me. Then, I caught and imprisoned her.

And now she was here. My hand rested on the swell of her hips, which swayed slightly with every step she took. She was a vision. My vision. I would burn this entire planet down before I would allow anybody to take her away from me again. I would start a war with my father if I had to. And hers.

"Would you like to rest?" I asked her.

"I think so." She nodded, taking in the great hall we had entered, which had been redecorated the way I remembered when I first stepped inside it a few hundred years ago to confront her father.

"Let me show you to your chamber." I tried to lead her to the staircase, but she turned in my arm.

"If you don't mind. I don't want to be alone."

Her request was understandable. Dottie, my housekeeper, like always, kept a fire burning in the large fireplace. Before it stood an array of couches—modern-day concessions. Back then, there had been a few hard chairs where the women would sit doing needlework. I led her toward them and pulled a warm blanket around her while she lay down. She didn't need sleep—not anymore—but I suspected she didn't know that, just like she didn't know what she had become. The thought of her having been turned into a vampire still sat ill with me, turned my stomach, and rose a rage the likes I had only ever known once, the hour she was taken from me four hundred years ago.

My failure to protect her then still burned hotly. Did it happen that day? Was it that day they turned her into a vampire? It had to have been.

I suspected that they put her under a sleeping spell afterward, which would explain her memory losss.

"It is good to see you, Master Devon." Dottie, my housekeeper, entered, carrying a large tray with my favorite ale and whiskey.

After she left, I sat opposite Blanche, on the couch, watching her still form underneath the blanket and wondered how I had survived all this time without her. What brought her here? Now? After all these years? I swore I would get to the bottom of it even at the risk of my own life, Blanche was worth it.