The Unknown Mistress - An Erotica and Romance Paranormal/Historical Novella by Dorian Mayfair Page B

herself, she would say something inappropriate, and her precious self-control was slipping fast.
    “Of course I’m understanding.” Jany said. “Or at least I try to be.”
    “Oh, I know you are.” Still smiling, the baroness fidgeted with her glass and finally put it down on the table. “It is quite obvious, if one knows people. And I know people very well.”
    “I see,” Jany said, having no idea what the baroness meant.
    After a short silence, the baroness looked up at Jany. “Would you believe me,” she asked, “if I said that there is a cure for this affliction?”
    “I have no reason to doubt you,” Jany said uncertainly, darting a look at the bed and the bound woman. At that moment, the light from the blaze fell over the woman’s face, and Jany saw her watching.
    Jany could not look away. A new hunger was growing in her body, glowing ever hotter and demanding her attention. She knew that craving well; after endless lonely and rainy nights, she saw it as an old friend. What she felt was lust, raw and urgent.
    The realization made her tremble. This was madness in the extreme. Yearning for another woman here, at this time. Worse, the object of her desire was a woman who, technically, perhaps no longer was a woman. Still, she could not take her eyes off the slim, beautiful maid. Helpless, desperate, her hands and feet secured by rope. Perhaps she was dangerous as well, if the rumours were true. That did not matter. Jany wanted desperately wanted to run her hands over the woman’s body. Sweep that dress away, take off her own clothes, and then...
    With an effort, Jany turned away. How could she be longing for a creature of the night? If Jany not already was lost, she was balancing on the edge of ruin. Maybe the devil had touched her mind too.
    Her thoughts flashed back to what the baroness had said about a treatment against a vampire’s bite? Could it be true? Or was it wishful thinking, born from wild rumours or snake oil potions sold in shady areas of towns across Europe? Heaven knew there were many stories and strange ‘protective means’ being exchanged. Only a week earlier, she had passed a man at a market who sold supposedly holy water at 50 franc a bottle. The church had made quite a show of shutting down that vendor, but he had been one among a host who offered all kinds of antidotes and wards. Full-scale madness, or so she had used to believe. Now she was less sure.
    Jany turned back to the baroness and tried not to let the woman’s closeness affect her. It would have been easier to ignore a flaming torch held an inch from her nose. “Perhaps,” Jany said. “I don’t know much about medicine.”
    The baroness looked pleased. “I knew you would not be so quick to judge,” she said, touching Jany’s arm. The gesture was affectionate but modest, the friendly pat of easy-going camaraderie.
    Jany felt as if she had been stroked in a much more intimate place. How could such brief contact make her shiver like this? Biting her lip, she moved closer to the baroness, but her survival instincts rallied and made her pull back. Once Jany realized what she was doing, her eyes grew wide and she moved farther back.  What is wrong with me? Have I lost my mind?
      Meanwhile, the baroness spoke on, unaware of Jany’s near-catastrophe. “What I tell you must stay between us,” she said and took her wine glass again. “If the duke knew, he would be outraged.”
    “What could you possibly have done to anger him?” Jany asked, still reeling from her lack of self-control.
    “Nothing.” A conspiratorial look passed over the baroness’s face, and she leaned closer to Jany. “But he must not know that I came to his home prepared for the worst,” she said. “Even I have heard the strange stories about what haunts our cities. Monsters, winged beasts, demons and devils in every corner. What if some of the rumours are true?” She made a small shrug. “I decided that I did not want to come into a city