Count Rothchild Page 3

  She then brushed her silky blonde hair, be it the long bangs from the front of her face. She often did such. There was pause for a bit, and she again dug at that chipped tooth of hers.

  He was not inclined to share anything about himself, merely listened to her.

  “It has been our consistent way to earn a living and an honest job. However, I have become adept at sleight of hand maneuvers and so-called magical tricks, and I’m also someone who likes to sing and play an instrument or two.”

  The count seemed interested. “May I ask, what is your instrument of choice?”

  Gaylen grinned. “I love the harp.”

  The count nodded. There was something about this young woman. She was feisty, and courageous to have come here on her own, yet she had softness and a beauty he admired; innocence he had not seen in some time. He felt a hunger stir within him.

  She went on to tell him more. It was as if she lost all inhibition, even with a stranger before her. He let her ramble on.

  There was no denying he had a weakness for pretty young woman, and past results in this regard were more than favorable indeed.

  He finally had to ask, “May I inquire about your marital status? I find it hard to believe that any husband would allow you to travel this far from your own kingdom, let alone allow you to meet a mysterious stranger such as myself, be it only for you to format a story for what you referred to as work, and earning an honest living.”

  Gaylen felt nervous, wondering if the charming count was being sincere in his enquiry, or was he delving deeper to determine if she was available. He was too old for her, he had to know such?

  She felt the stiffness of the long journey return to her body, and in the pit of her belly the queasy sensation again. This man was mannered, but disturbing; she prayed he simply meant well.

  I have told him too much already, she thought. Why have I revealed so much? I’m a talker, that’s all, she decided, merely a talker.

  She wasn’t the shy type, therefore, before he said too much more or delved deeper, she asked, “Do you ask such a question pertaining to your own interest?”

  She swallowed at such a statement. It took courage to ask it. Her mouth was dry now.

  The count shook his head. “I am having a conversation with you, Gaylen.”

  The young woman smiled at his reply.

  “Are you a virgin?” he then shockingly asked.

  Gaylen almost fell back in her chair. She was utterly flustered now, lost for words for at least two minutes.

  Finally she answered. “I will say that I am engaged to my fiancé, Jonathan, who lives back in the Highlands, and upon my return we are looking forward to a life together. Can we leave such at that, I ask of you?”

  The count then took to lighting his nearby gathered long, skull-tipped pipe for a brief smoke, thereafter blowing a puff of it about in the air.

  He nodded at her explanation, not saying more about such for a minute or so, merely looking into the lovely blue eyes of his guest.

  He then broke the silence. “He is a brave man to allow such a treasure go about, on her own accord at that. I see you are thinking perhaps I am actually asking about your availability for myself, are you not?”

  The look on her face was clearly the answer he needed. He put down his pipe. “Your eyes give the answer away, my dear. You think that an older man, such as myself, would give onto you no connection; but let me tell you this. In my experiences, a younger woman is much better off with a man of my station and experience.”

  Gaylen felt her heart pounding. It might erupt at any time.

  “Relax,” he told her. “I am not insinuating that this is my goal or my topic point here; I am saying that a man in his youth has many factors on his mind and is not rightfully settled to take a woman of his age. He needs to mature and discover a deep appreciation for such beauty and, in truth, of the entire ideal of love.” He then paused before adding, ‘Love is everything.” The two looked at one another before he smiled. “I’ll say it again; love is eternal, young lady.”

  Gaylen heard the wisdom of his words, and was glad the topic trailed off soon after. She wanted to hear about him and, when thinking of her Jonathan, knew very well he was ready for such love. After all, he was a bit older than her. He was ready; at least she thought he was. She wished he was here at this moment.

  She then asked, “Since you have asked me, I will return the favor as to enquiring about the status of your love life; are you married or do you have a particular mistress in your life?”

  The count pushed back his long dark hair from his face and grasped such at the back of his head in a ponytail-like manner. He then let it go and grinned.

  “I will say this; with my luck with the feminine species, it is better I do well in this world alone.” He again took up his pipe, blowing smoke about in the study. “We will talk more soon. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, and please feel free to indulge yourself in any of the various books here and, of course, the liquor from my cabinet. I bid you a good evening.”

  He then stood and left without another word.

  Gaylen looked about the study after rolling her eyes and letting out another deep sigh. There were many books; it was akin to being in heaven. This entire trip was irrational and soon she found herself, be it a bit discombobulated, digging into the liquor cabinet.

  I need to take the edge off, she thought.

  There were many bottles of wine, those in various shades of red, all labeled with the Rothchild seal, yet she found her hand reaching for the light brown liquid beside them; a strong whiskey as it looked and smelled. At times, when she would perform at a tavern, it was often the drink of choice for her fellow performers, thus she had acquired a taste for such. She took up a small glass and commenced a series of shots, perhaps unladylike, yet she assumed no one was watching.

  Her assumption as to its color proved correct; the stuff was quite potent.

  She then went about perusing more books.

  One was a broad, red, leather-bound specimen and she found herself indulging herself inside it. The pages were full of erotica, and the poses and lovemaking images had her in a trance.

  She thought of her husband to be and wished him close this very moment. These images she had never laid eyes upon; most were from foreign lands and all were fascinating.

  Another old tome that which she pulled from a shelf, dusting it off some, explained how Zeus, the almighty God, was at one time considered the only deity people worshipped hundreds of years ago. He went by many names and had many symbols, one of which was the cross. She read this for a while, finding it a fascinating tale of God.

  Once done with such, she looked for a new book, yet found herself browsing the erotica tome once more.

  Half hour or so later, the count reappeared in the doorway out of nowhere. She quickly closed the red-covered book she had returned her attention to. He winked at her. She felt slightly embarrassed at having this particular edition in her small hands.

  “Have you found something that interests you, my dear?” he asked. “Pardon me for returning, but I couldn’t remove the thought from my mind that I would rather enjoy having you sing for me before I retire for the evening.”

  The very aspect of such a performance in front of such a strange man made Gaylen reach for another shot, if not two, of whiskey; such liquid courage would eventually lead her to offer a brief song for her host.

  Yet, before too much more was said, Count Rothchild announced, “I find it captivating how such far off lands offer more than any here in the heartlands ever could fathom when it comes to erotic poses and lovemaking. Do you as well?”

  Gaylen flushed with more awkwardness. She avoided the question.

  “I could sing for you,” she said. “I’ve been working on a tune; it’s not long, but I’d be willing to share it with you.”

  The count was pleased. He held up his hand as if to ask her to wait a moment, and went to a closet door; opening such, he reached in and pu
lled out a magnificent copper-inlaid, oak harp. He rolled it over to her; she was excited that such was nearby.

  Gaylen loved its appearance. She looked it over, stating, “This is remarkable, and how old is it? I love its floral design and intricacies. The silver spiral patterns are amazing as well.”

  He was happy to see her pleased and offered for her to play upon it. She tested the strings; they were in tune, if not perfect, and it was then she weaved her hands about, playing the ancient harp.

  The music was lovely. He watched her little hands play smoothly and dance about the strings of an artifact that had not been out of that closet in nearly three hundred years.

  She then cleared her fairy tale, child-like, sweet voice and began to sing.

  There is a light snow falling in the world; it’s turning everything white and I feel it’s a beautiful night.

  The snow is falling as I walk home tonight, oh, how I feel I could start a new beginning to my life.

  Yes, the snow is falling and I feel great hope, it is a love that is never ending and my heart is feeling fine,

  Yes, my heart is feeling fine, for the snow is falling and a new beginning may arrive.

  Gaylen paused somewhat shyly. She then executed a curtsey before saying, “That is all I have so far; it’s not much and needs work, but there you are.”

  She went about having another drink.

  The count was impressed; her voice was lovely.

  “I must say that was charming, young lady. I can see that you have talent.”

  She then asked, be it a bit silly, “Do you have snow in these parts, Mr. Count?”

  Rothchild nodded with a grin. The woman was a wee bit inebriated, he realized. He came over by her and sat down.

  “I have seen everything you can imagine in this world. I have traveled across all lands and, yes, I have seen snow. I have seen blizzards of white and your song to me has a truth to it that touches me. When I walk amongst fresh fallen snow, everything is so pure, and I as well, maybe I could start anew, to take away the pain and the hurt, perhaps find love again.”

  He paused, lost in thought.

  Gaylen, too, sat down.

  He then surprised her by saying, “It feels as if I have lived hundreds and hundreds of years, yet something is missing. Oh, and on this island, to answer your actual question, not much, but further in the sea there is a place where it snows each winter, a place of elves.”

  “Elves,” announced the giddy woman. “Fairies, you mean?”

  Count Rothchild laughed aloud. “Well, you could say that. They are an extremely, shall I say, proud and reclusive family. Many have never laid eyes upon their kingdom.”

  “Elves are so cute,” she said.

  The count found her delightful, yet replied, “Not all elves are, as you say, cute. There are those skilled in warfare and even others who master great magic.”

  Gaylen found that her head was becoming flighty and dizziness swept over her. She had not even realized it, but she was so liquored up now she could barely stand up. She fell back onto a leather recliner, feeling woozy.

  “I may have drunk too much,” she insinuated, giggling and smiling at the count. “When do you leave on your trip?”

  The count came towards her, but she backed up at his advancement, this time hitting her head on the seat’s harder end, that which sent her to the hardwood floor unconscious.

  From the Journal of Drakko Del Rothchild

  I was good tonight, so good. I am a host with proper morals. I will leave such writing with a poem.

  Once upon a dark soul’s kiss

  You gently touched my lips

  And even in the hollow of my heart

  I now feel such flutter and skip

  Chapter 4

  The next morning Gaylen found herself in the guestroom lying in her bed. She had a blurred memory of the end to the prior evening, but realized immediately that she had been undressed and placed to bed; where she now wore nothing but a light gown and her frilly undergarment.

  Oh, God, she thought, he brought me to bed and undressed me.

  The count took the liberty to remove her clothing, indeed, and she felt a mite embarrassed, yet there was not much she could do about it. She then made a vow that it was the last time she would ever touch anything of an alcoholic substance while here in the castle, if not ever.

  Upon this day her host was nowhere to be found. She had the entire place to herself.

  It was quiet, so she took to using the large black speckled porcelain tub in said guest room. A bottle of soapy liquid would make fine bubbles and she filled such with warm water and eased her tiny naked form in.

  It was so relaxing, her mind finally felt calmer and she soaked in the water for some time.

  She eventually took to the tools in her luggage kit to shave her legs. She had cream, a brush and a snap open razor on the edge of the tub now and went about making her legs as smooth as silk. Many of the women back home shaved only infrequently, yet she liked to do so consistently.

  Suddenly she felt someone looming over her shoulder, and looked up quickly to see the count and, as to such a situation, she startled and cut her leg.

  She spat out, “You frightened me. I thought you were away?”

  The count immediately reached for her wound and wiped the blood from her inner thigh.

  “You have cut yourself, my dear,” he announced. “I am sorry to have startled you; my travels were put off, dare I say. I called out, but you must not have heard me.”

  He turned from her view, licking her blood. He found himself easing down, ready to take her throat and finish the bloodbath, yet he noticed the rosary around her neck and recoiled.

  Those beads did little these days to one as ancient as he, yet it reminded him to behave even when as heated as now.

  What are you doing, you fool; stay focused, let this child live.

  When he looked back to Gaylen, she was trying to cover her exposed perky breasts, and appearing rather frightened holding a towel over her, still in the water.

  She loudly announced, “Excuse me; a bath is a private moment. How dare you intrude?”

  Count Rothchild stepped back. “Yes, pardon me. I had thought you may have taken ill and came in uninvited. Please do dress so we may talk in my study later; my business is delayed.”

  He then walked away, pausing at her doorway. He was waiting to see her step up from the tub nude, a wanton lust in him, but Gaylen stayed in the bubble bath. He wanted to ask her if she shaved her pubic region as well. It was a trend developing as of late; however, he felt such would be inappropriate and held his tongue. He then reached for a larger towel on a shelf and passed it to his guest.

  She used it to cover up even more and rose from the water and moved before a large mirror to begin prepping and soon dressing.

  The count behind her watched and she noticed in the mirror he gave off no reflection whatsoever. She spun to see him, seeking an answer, ready to ask why he still lingered, yet he was nowhere to be seen. He had already left the bed chamber.

  After she finished dressing - a lavender dress, white pearls, and brown leather shoes - Gaylen walked the various levels of the castle, noticing again that every door and window remained locked. She then made her way downstairs, feeling more and more a prisoner, and thinking perhaps she should never have come to this Gothic estate.

  Yet she was now given an unexpected audience with her host, and hoped to find the answers she sought to put her at ease some.

  The count was already inside his study smoking his long pipe as she entered.

  “You look lovely,” he announced to her.

  Gaylen sort of smiled and said, “Thank you,” as she joined him, sitting across from the black garbed count once more.

  She then took out her journal and began to take notes as her host finally did the talking.

  “My father was first a soldier, he was a warrior, and soon Sir Vlad Tepes became a general in the Dragon Army, that being upon the kingdom
of Quester. He was a greedy man and he would not stop until the very coins of wealth upon such an island became dragons bearing his own emblem. He acquired land all about as to his many conquests; nothing could stop him.”

  He paused as to take a smoke from his pipe, and then went on. “Those that did not heed his desire or pay his steep price, he would have them impaled on spiked spears, and often he would dine outside, next to them, to show his arrogance.”

  Gaylen listened to this gruesome tale and could only imagine the upbringing of the brothers, Dracula and her host Krons, or should she call him Drakko? She was not sure.

  Rothchild continued, “You see, my brother, as our father aged, took charge of his properties and armies. However, he, after one of those very battles, returned to find his wife in the arms of another soldier. In his madness he took her life and his as well.”

  The count stood and poured wine into a goblet from a nearby table, offering a cup to his guest. Gaylen agreed to try such; her vow already forgotten.

  He smiled at her. “The vineyard to the left outside creates this fine wine, a dark red, with yet a slight sweetness to such. Rothchild wine has helped make my family a fortune through the centuries.”

  Gaylen was overwhelmed with information; she had many questions to ask. “As to your brother - there has to be more of him? Also, this wine you call Rothchild, I have been told it is now repacked and branded as DeAbleau wine.”

  The count went on, knowing well she wanted answers. “Dracula did many unspeakable acts in his reign. He was not one to hide, nor had he truly been dead, and I will say the bloodshed in his wake is legendary indeed.”

  Lifting his goblet to his guest, he said, “As far as this wine goes, it does not matter to me anymore. I have had many locales that which make it and those who profit from such I have no ill will for.” He took a sip and went on. “I joined the Dragon Army as well, yet for different reasons; those being to be benevolent and fight for the good of man, but I dare say, young lady, my family is cursed.”