Page 14 of Bluebeard’s Key

“It keeps things interesting, doesn’t it, my jewel? Suffice it to say that Greenhaven has been here far longer than I’ve been on the Earth, and there are many ways to get here, if you know where to look. I stumbled upon one path in my youth, the precursor to our own Charlie’s speedboat, and it changed my life. But enough questions! We’re here to celebrate.”

Bluebeard focused on his meal as they worked through a roast and savory bread pudding, and on to a beautifully layered trifle, only half listening as Hoyle recounted a tale of collecting some plant or another. Looking down the table, he realized that he’d have to play this wife more carefully than the last, with less strife. The results had been profoundly disappointing with the previous one. This evening would be the perfect time to start, doting on her when they moved on to dancing and reining in his masculine appetites, at least for now, when they eventually got to the bedchamber.

“...and now I have three healthy specimens growing in the carnivorous plant area,” Hoyle said, coming to the end of his long-winded story. “And I have the scars to prove it!”

“Excellent story there, Hoyle!” Bluebeard said, finishing his last spoonful of trifle. “Let’s move out to the courtyard and continue the celebration under the stars.”

He rose from his chair and offered his hand to his wife. Night had fallen, and with it, the courtyard glowed with strings of fairy lights and illuminated towers. Two musicians began a slow waltz as he swept her over the flagstones, leading her into a graceful turn and enfolding her in his arms. His charm, when he chose to deploy it, had never failed him, and like the many women before her, he suspected she was close to swooning.

“You sure know how to romance a girl,” she said as they started to spin. Was that a trace of irony there in her voice?

“It is my pleasure, dear one. I’m happy to share all I have with you.”

“I must say I’m impressed. This dress is lovely, and it fits like a dream. And the woman who helped me with my hair was friendly, knowledgeable, and professional.”

“If you like her, you may retain her as your lady’s maid, or you’re free to hire someone more suitable.”

“I think she’s more than, um, suitable. To tell you the truth, Giles, I don’t know why I’m here. It all seems too good to be true for a girl like me.”

Her words were contrite, but again, there was that little twist of the lips, like a joke was running through her head. Bluebeard didn’t know whether to be encouraged or infuriated. This one had some life to her, and she was already promising to be a handful with her impertinent questions at the dinner table. She would be more work up front, but the reward would surely be worth the effort.

Attempting to mollify her, at least for their wedding night, he said, “I’m a simple man with simple pleasures. I must warn you, I am often away on business, so you’ll be left on your own to manage the house. I didn't have the time for a lengthy courtship, so I asked Thierry to arrange our match…and I can already tell that he chose wisely. I can see you’re going to transform this castle into a home.”

“You are a charmer, aren’t you?” she said, with a twinkle in her eye and that same almost imperceptible twist of irony.

“You flatter me, my lady,” he said as the musicians began a faster tune. “Let’s see what those talented feet of yours can do.”

As they whirled around the courtyard, he caught glimpses of the others. Charlie and Hoyle were on the flagstones, spinning right along with him and his new bride. Thierry was berating the man tending the bar, ever in search of perfection, but continually darting glances to the dance floor. And most importantly, Zayan had coaxed Thomas out of the shadows and was showing him the basics of the box step. Everything was proceeding precisely according to plan.

When the waltz ended, he released his wife and offered his arm, leading them to the refreshments. Thierry met them with two glasses of champagne.

“My lady, you dance beautifully,” Thierry said. “Mage Bluebeard, is there anything that requires attention?”

Beatrice was watching the courtyard, smiling at the steady progress Zayan was making with Thomas. Bluebeard was well pleased, noting that Zayan had somehow convinced Thomas to take the lead. The full smile on Thomas’s face showed that the seduction was proceeding apace, as he intended.

“Giles, dear,” his new wife said, turning to him with a playful smile, “Thierry has put together such a beautiful ceremony and celebration for us. I think you should treat him to a dance.”

“Oh no, goodness no,” Thierry stammered. “I couldn’t possibly. There’s so much to attend and I must…”

But Bluebeard thought: Why not? His trusted steward had served him for centuries, since almost the beginning of his alchemical career, always there to orchestrate his every fancy. But Thierry rarely seemed to indulge in any pleasures himself. He was drunk enough to consider it.

He held out his hand to Thierry and said, “Shall we?”

Thierry hesitated only a moment. Was that a smile that danced across his lips, evaporating instantly into his implacable neutrality? He bowed deeply and said, “I’d be honored, my Master.”

As they moved to the floor, Bluebeard found that his steward was an excellent dancer, following his every lead. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Back when waltzes were still in high fashion, Thierry was always the one who brought his brides up to speed, ensuring that they wouldn’t embarrass him in their many social engagements. Those days were long gone, of course, with the pervasive informality of the current age, but Thierry hadn’t lost his touch. He still had that distinctive extension of his back, the proud carriage of his narrow shoulders, the hallmarks of a cultured gentleman. Who knows? Maybe the waltz would come back into fashion in another century or two, and his trusted steward would be there at his side, ensuring that his dance card of wives was never empty.

At last, the celebration ground to its conclusion, and he took his new wife up to the bedchamber. Honestly, he’d rather just go to bed and sleep. He had allowed himself to indulge too freely in the dinner and the wine, and lethargy was threatening to take control. But he must secure his right as husband and determine the manner of wife she would be. It was already apparent that she was willful, no blushing maiden, and that boded well for the consummation, yet another essential step toward the ultimate goal.

“Let me, my husband,” she said as he struggled with his blasted tie. In those brief moments when he was between wives, Thierry and his nimble fingers were always there to help, but that was temporarily a thing of the past, at least until the newness of this marriage wore off. He must let her fuss over him, since it was the domain of a wife.

She was so different from the many wives he had taken over the centuries before. His wedding nights were always filled with fierce domination, with fearful women offered up rather than choosing the union, often with no knowledge of the male body. Virginity had no measurable effect on the quality or quantity of the final Elixir, so Bluebeard had gotten that particular fetish out of his system early on. Truth be told, he preferred a woman with experience, who knew her way around a man.

With a few quick motions, she unshackled him from the tie and unfastened the buttons on his shirt, taking her time to run her hand over his chest as he was laid bare to her gaze. This also set her apart from the pantheon of earlier wives. She didn’t appear to be disgusted, not in the least, by his strong features and unique coloration. Instead, her eyes sparkled as she slipped off his shirt and caressed his chest and stomach. He had always been a big man with strong musculature, and each dose of Elixir further tightened and hardened his already impressive physique. He bore the scars of many altercations, crisscrossing his arms and shoulders, but he bore no shame for them. They only added to his masculine air.

“Look at all this marvelous blue hair,” she said, combing her fingers through his curly chest. “I had hoped it would be the same color as your beard. It is a feast for the senses. And further down…?”

No, not disgusted at all. He felt prickles of vanity, making him raise his chin and bringing a curl to his lips as she moved her hands to the buttons at his waist.