Damon: Interview With a Miser
EXCLUSIVE DAMON INTERVIEW!
How well do you know Damon? Is he a gentleman or a rake? What are his plans for the future? Has he been in love? And how does one regain feeling in one’s numb toes? Read this exclusive interview with Damon to find out!
I was sitting cross legged in my seat, vainly rubbing my numb toes to get some feeling back into them, when I thought of how Damon would cope with a cold winter in Scotland. (Especially, in a time when they had no indoor heating.)
Would he sit in front of a burning fire, watching the flames flicker? Would he warm his feet while he read a novel or an Italian translating dictionary? Then again, what does he do with his free time?
I sat there pondering all this—and the meaning of life—for a whole thirty seconds before I decided I should just ask Damon…
As deftly as a goddess, I conjured his image before me. He didn’t seem very surprised for someone who had just traveled across time, in fact he seemed rather sleepy. Maybe he thought it was all a dream.
I looked at him for a moment, not believing he was actually here. He was so handsome, to the point of being almost beautiful. His glossy, black hair fell on his forehead unruly as always. He was so different from his twin, yet so alike. Standing over six-feet tall, he was breathtakingly perfect or so I thought.
“Hallo,” I said, donning a English accent just to see if I could.
“You sound funny,” he said, apparently my accent needed work. “Am I in Australia?” Then his eyes assessed me with his auburn eyes. “Are you a convict? Is that why you’re wearing those ragged clothes?”
I had forgotten about my clothes. I had on my oldest pair of sweat-pants, with a hole the size of a grapefruit in my knee, and a baggy black T-shirt, depicting a white skull and crossbones. I acknowledged that they were indeed ragged, but I’d be damned if I was going to let him make fun of my clothes while he stood in my study, looking for all the world as dashing as a prince in his formal black evening wear.
“What a cozy place you have here,” Damon continued, as he walked over to my Shakespeare bobble head, giving it a shake. “I could have sworn just a second ago I was standing in Lady Jersey’s boring soiree.”
I had read somewhere that “cozy” meant small for the British. Jerk.
“Sit, foolish mortal, I shall explain all,” I said, donning my goddess persona, because the English one hadn’t worked.
“Mortal? Who do you think you are…Lucien?” Damon chuckled at the last bit. (Obviously, my goddess persona, too, needed work. I had forgotten for a second that Damon had lived all his life with Lucien’s arrogance, who at times thought himself a god of sorts as well.)
“No,” I replied, regaining my normal posture, which was rather average. “But I really can explain why you are here. You see, I need to ask you a few questions.”
He raised a brow. “And I should answer them because…”
“I shall forever be grateful for your generosity,” I said meekly.
He raised his second brow as well.
“And I’ll make sure the girl you marry is to your liking,” I amended.
“You can do that? Really?” He looked at me in disbelief.
“Yes, for you see, I am a matchmaker of sorts. I put people together…at least the ones I have created and you are one of my creations.”
“Is that so? You don’t look like my mother?”
“No, no, your mother is also one of my creations.”
“Ah, now it makes sense. Come to think of it, you do resemble my grandmother.”
What? Why that little puke? I realized Damon had been toying with me. He didn’t believe a word I’d said, which I suppose was only natural. I wouldn’t have believed me, either. That thought was the only thing keeping me from going back and rewriting Masquerade with Lucien as an only child.
“Humour me,” I said, my teeth gritting with the force of my clenched jaw.
“You are the strangest person I have ever met,” said Damon. “I think I rather like you.”
“Do you perhaps need employment?”
“For you see, just recently I lost my kitchen maid…you would do quite well for the position.”
“…You’d save me quite a lot of money, we could use some of the rags you are wearing for cleaning.”
“Rags?” I shrieked. “I’ll have you know that these clothes were custom made for me by…by Marciano.”
I named the first designer I could think of…and I wasn’t really lying. Once upon a time, my pants were quite nice and they really were Guess, although custom-made was stretching the truth a bit far.
“Oh, in that case you should fire your tailor.”
“Look, can we please just get on with the interview?” I was starting to get annoyed. Had Damon always been this obnoxious? Had I really designed this character? Or did half his sensitivity get left behind went I conjured him?
He looked at me for a moment, then seated himself in the chair opposite mine.
“Very well,” he said.
“Of course, this means you owe me.”
“Naturally.” I was feeling better now that we were making some progress.
“What is your first question?”
“Oh, um, well for those readers who aren’t familiar with you yet, would you like to give a little introduction?”
He shrugged. “I am Lord Damon Dimitri Castello, second and better-looking son of the Duke of Ravenswood.”
“I see.” I said, wondering how Lucien would react to the better looking comment. “Okay, so what do you do in your free time?”
“Anything that makes me happy.”
Well, wasn’t that vague. “Anything specific?”
“Wooing a pretty, preferably widowed lady…and then sampling the benefits.”
“Oh.” I could feel my face turning red at the implication of his words.
“Well, then, what are some of your goals?”
“To stay unmarried.”
“What’s your greatest fear?”
“That I’ll get married.”
Okay, then. Clearly he wanted to remain single.
“How would you react to Lucien getting married?”
He seemed to digest this for a moment, before saying, “I’d congratulate him, I suppose…But then, I’d offer my condolences to his wife.”
“Hmm, so have you ever been in love?”
Whoa, what? Wasn’t this interesting? I sat there shell shocked. Damon had sounded defensive, like he had something to hide. He was squirming under my gaze, awaiting the next question. I wondered for a moment who he had fallen in love with…and then it came to me. Of course.
“What do think of girls with red hair?”
Well, well, well, was that a blush I saw in his cheeks?
“No comment.” He was glaring at me now.
Okay, maybe it was time to lay off. I had all the information I needed anyway.
And then I asked the question that had been nagging at me for awhile now…specifically for the sake of my numb toes.
“How on earth do you stay warm during the Scottish winter?”
He started to smirk, his auburn eyes getting a sleepy, seductive look in them. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I could feel my face heating up again.
“Now I have a question for you,” said Damon, leaning back in his chair.
“What?” He perked up and turned around in his chair.
“Sorry, I mean, ask your question.”
He got out of his chair and dropped down on one knee.
Is he doing what I think he’s doing? My heartbeat picked up some serious speed.
“Oh, well, I was wondering if you would do me the honour of…”
I leaned forward in my chair, eager for his next words.
“…sending me home.”
And my disappointment knew no bounds.
“You thought I was going ask you to marry me, didn’t you?” He teased.
“Of course not.”
“Then why were you so disappointed when I finished?”
“Oh, stuff it,” I said, ready to send him home in a dress.
Actually, on second thought that wasn’t such a bad idea. Imagine Mr. Too-Cool-To-Commit showing up to Lady Jersey’s soiree in a dress. No, a pink and frilly dress.
But I wasn’t that cruel.
“Okay, I’ll send you home,” I said, getting ready to use my godlike powers.
“Brilliant, and if you need a job, the position of kitchen maid is still open.”
Okay, so I may not be cruel enough to send him to Lady Jersey’s soiree in a dress, but I could torture him in all manner of ways in Midnight Phantom.
I couldn’t wait, so I told him, “Don’t worry Damon, I’ll make sure your story ends with a happily ever after…and a wife.”
The look of astonishment on his face, as he faded away, warmed me all the way to my numb toes.
©2009-2010 Rika Ashton