He turned to smile at me, and I felt the force of his pleasure as a creeping warmth in my blood. I had never known anyone like him. He was so strange a mixture of imperiousness and informality that I could not understand him. But even if I had had the grasp of his character, still I could not have explained my own feelings towards him. He had only to stand near me and I was aware of him, keenly aware, sharp to any emotion, any shift in his mood. As for myself, his approbation, the fascinated looks he fixed upon me, the warmth of his interest, all of these effected reactions I was quite powerless to overcome in his presence. My blood ran hot or cold, I shivered and felt myself unable to move. I was restless within my own skin, tossing like a creature in heat, and it ought to have embarrassed me. Instead I was intrigued by these feelings and by the man who created them.
I should not have reflected upon such things in such a place with such a man. I ought to have stayed in my room with the door bolted against him. Instead I had followed him up to the ends of the earth and would have cast myself over the edge if he had asked it of me. I shivered in the chill of the east wind and he gave a short curse.
“I ought not to have brought you here. It is far too cold,” he said, removing his coat and wrapping it about my shoulders. The warmth of it enveloped me, and the scent of it-of him-clung to the fabric, and later, I would discover, to my skin. It was a rich and sensual smell, like that of overripe fruit just before bursting.
He should have dropped his hands when he finished arranging the coat, but he did not. He stood, his body blocking the wind from mine, his hands twisted in the lapels of his own coat, drawing me closer to him.
“Better?” he asked, his lips hovering at my ear. I nodded and he stood and lingered a moment more beside me.
Suddenly a flutter of wings brushed past and I dropped my head, crying out.
“It is nothing,” he assured me. “Only a bat, intent upon its nightly hunt.”
I rose to discover the creature flying away, darting from tower to tower as it chased the darkness.
“Come,” said the count, urging me forward. He pointed upward into the night sky. “That bright spot just there is Venus. Fix it in your mind.”
I did as he instructed. Then he reached into the pocket of the coat he had placed about me to retrieve the small telescope. “Look again.”
It required a few attempts to master the instrument, but when I did I was rewarded with the sight of Venus, fairly dancing in the sky above us, the brightest star in the heavens.
“Do you observe anything peculiar?” he asked. He stood behind me, still shielding me from the wind, and the air carried the scent of him to me.
“She is lopsided, as if a bite had been taken from her.”
“Precisely. Even as she rises and seems to grow larger and brighter, she loses her roundness, forming eventually a crescent at her zenith. Galileo discovered this phenomenon.”
I proffered the telescope. “Thank you for that. I have never observed the stars before, at least not with someone who knew them so well.”
He took the instrument from my hands. “Now that you know where to look, you might even be able to determine Venus in the daylight sky. Napoleon did so once while he addressed the people from a palace balcony. He believed it was an omen of success for victory in Italy. He was quite correct.”
“It is a harbinger of good things to see Venus then?” I asked lightly.
“Of course. The planet was called after the goddess of love because it was supposed to shine a kindly light upon lovers’ meetings. I will show you.”
He stepped closer and leaned near to me. “Close your eyes,” he said, putting a hand over my face.
I complied, waiting expectantly for what would come next. My lips parted a little in delicious anticipation of the touch of his. I think I leaned forward just a bit, and even as I did so, he removed his hand.
“Open your eyes and look at me.”
I did, surprised and disappointed that he had not taken the opportunity to kiss me. I was shocked at myself, for such a thing was not to be wished. It was inappropriate and unseemly and yet it was what I wanted above all things.
But if he desired it as well, he betrayed no sign of it. His expression was calm, his tone even as he explained.
“Now, keeping your eyes fixed upon me, look with the tail of your eye at the wall. What do you see?”
I strained my eyes, looking without looking as I tried to discover what he wished me to see. And suddenly, there it was.
“There are shadows but no moon,” I said.
He gave me an approving look. “Very good. It took me quite a bit longer to understand when my grandfather taught me to see them. It is said that any love affair begun in the shadows of Venus will last an eternity, for it is blessed by the goddess herself.”
I did not know what to make of this. He was both scientist and mystic, capable of blending fact and legend to suit him. But to what end? What did he want of me?
Before I could puzzle over him further he put out his hand. “Come, Miss Lestrange. It grows late and the day has been a long one. You must be tired.”
But as he helped me down from the observatory, through his rooms and to the door of my own bedchamber, I was not aware of being fatigued. Instead, I felt more alive than I had ever done in my life, aware of the sound of my own blood rushing in my veins. I might have tarried on the roof with him a hundred years and never slept.
And yet, when he had kissed my hand and taken his leave, I scarcely managed to wash myself and put on my nightdress before I fell into bed and dropped into a deep and dreamless sleep.
6
Through the next several days at the castle a pattern emerged, each day as like to the next as beads strung upon a rosary. Each day I breakfasted alone in my room, then passed the rest of the morning in solitude, working on my book. I wrote in the library, but the count left me strictly alone-to my disappointment and relief. Something about the atmosphere, charged as it was, gave a fresh fillip to my work. I had not thought to begin so soon after my arrival, but the setting was so evocative I could not help myself. I remembered too what Cosmina had told me of the count’s plans. He meant to stay only a month or so, hardly enough time for me to take the proper measure of him. If I meant to use him as an inspiration, I had to begin, and quickly. Even with this determination, I found myself gazing often at the library door, wondering if this would be the day he provided a pleasant interruption to my labours.
But each morning ended with my collecting the sheaf of pages into a morocco portfolio and returning them safely to my room before taking a midday meal with Cosmina. If the countess was well, we ate together with the Amsels in a pretty little room with views of the mountains. More often, the countess kept to her rooms and Cosmina and I were served trays in her bedchamber. We talked of many things, but the count was not among them. After her first outburst she was content not to speak of him, and I hesitated to introduce the subject. I could not trust my own emotions not to betray me, and I knew I could not confide in her where I spent my evenings, for they were always passed in his company. The household dined together formally each night, and if the countess was strong enough some little entertainment followed, cards or perhaps music. But even those evenings we spent together were concluded early and I went to my room with hours yet to pass before I retired. The count, whom I had come to learn was largely nocturnal in his practices, knocked each evening upon my door soon after we retreated to our rooms. We passed our evenings in his grandfather’s workroom or, on clear nights, out upon the observatory walk itself watching the full moon rise over the valley. The count had cleared away the worst of the rubble in the workroom himself, refusing to permit the maids access to this most private of sanctuaries. The fact that he invited me there when no one else was granted such a privilege was not lost upon me, and as he conducted himself with propriety and restraint, I found myself increasingly at ease in his company. If his hand or gaze occasionally lingered a heartbeat too long upon me, this was countered with a seeming indifference that could only rouse my interest. Our evenings were spent in conversation that touched upon all subjects, and for the first time in my life I experienced the acute pleasure of being treated as an intellectual equal, for we sparred as often as we agreed, and I held my ground against him, frequently to his amusement, and always with his approval. I knew that he enjoyed me; I believed that he liked me, and the novelty of it was intoxicating.