“You’re a distraction,” he said with a fond shake of his head, rummaging in his desk for another quill.
“I am silent as a church mouse!” she protested.
Finding a new quill, Caleb dipped it into his inkwell. “That you are, but I… I know of what you are thinking.”
Elinore felt her cheeks go hotter, but did not apologize. “Is that a werewolf hallmark or simply something you’re good at knowing?”
Caleb paused. “Perhaps both. I don’t know. I’ve always been a werewolf so I’m not sure.”
They managed to work in silence for a stretch of time. Alice joined them after lunch, seemingly pleased to be in both their company. Elinore and Alice became over-excited discussing their work - writings and drawings and took their discussion outside to the grounds where they could take a walk in the afternoon air and be as loud as they wanted. The air was fresh and crisp and Elinore breathed deeply, feeling alive and invigorated.
“You seem in good spirits today,” Alice commented. “I was worried when you were ill yesterday.”
Elinore had forgotten that she’d spent most of yesterday ensconced in her room dealing with her mortification over kissing Caleb impetuously. How different today was by comparison!
“Yes, I’m feeling much better today,” she said, her smile bright and wide. Alice pulled her into a quick and fierce hug, which Elinore returned in kind.
They walked and talked, heedless of the time passing in the way of young ladies caught up in conversation. Toward the end of their walk, though, as they headed back to the manor, Elinore felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Someone was watching them. She felt it, deep in her bones. Her eyes drifted toward the woods, gaze narrowing as she peered into the dense foliage. Was there movement in the trees? Could it perhaps only be small woodland creatures and other animals of the forest? Or something else? Alice tugged on her hand, cajoling her to come back to the manor and for them to sneak into the kitchen and pilfer tea and sweets. With one last look to the forest and the secrets that they held, Elinore relented and followed Alice.
Elinore was both loath and inclined to sneak into Hayter’s den to get to the secret passage. She didn’t want to be caught by Hayter nor run into him unplanned, but she also wanted to have another look around at his things, his space. She was comfortable now in calling her feelings as honestly as she could. She disliked him. Perhaps she had disliked him from the moment she came to Ravenwood and could not articulate why, but now she felt as though she had the words to describe why she disliked him. Her dislike made her feel as though she needed to know more about him. Know thy enemy, she thought, but she couldn’t recall from where she knew the saying.
Caleb was no longer in the library when Alice and Elinore returned with their pilfered goods - a hot pot of tea, some scones and apricot jam. Still, she found his scent lingered and when she breathed deeply; if she concentrated, she could find the unique scent that was him underneath the layers of books, furniture and paper, along with the rich spicy tea with which they’d absconded.
Afternoon gave way to night and Elinore dreaded dinner-time. Hayter was sure to be seated at the head of the table, lording his presence over her. Mary called Elinore to dinner at the usual time and she headed for the dining room with slow, measured steps. She paused outside the door, her mouth curving in displeasure when she could hear the clinking of wine glasses and cutlery indicating that both Caleb and Hayter were already seated in the room.
Dinner passed like a long, bitter winter storm with icy cuts and chilled barbs. Elinore did her best to eat her meal in peace, but Hayter was extraordinary at making even the most innocuous comments seem vulgar and rude. Elinore watched as Caleb’s hands tightened around his cutlery, but he did not respond to his uncle’s foul behavior. Hayter was gleefully waiting to see if he could shock Elinore or Caleb into arguing. As a lady, she’d learned well how to keep her manners, however, when Hayter said something crass and leaned in close to give her a leering gaze and a wink, she’d had enough. Out of the corner of her eye, Elinore saw Caleb rise from his chair to intervene and she had the sudden thought that Hayter would rend his nephew limb from limb without a care. Turning to Hayter, she bared her teeth and let loose a low, growling sound and slapped the back of his hand with the flat end of her knife.
“You forget your manners, sir,” she said icily.
“Ah, but I am a wolf, dear girl. I only pretend to be a man.”
“Then perhaps I should treat you like an animal and have you chained outside during meal-times.”
The table was silent and she feared for a moment she had pushed to far. She reached out and took her wine glass, taking a large drink, feeling the liquid burn down her throat. Suddenly, Hayter laughed. It was rich and deep and caused a shiver to run down her spine.
“Wonderful, my dear, simply wonderful. What a wolf you will make.”
“We don’t yet know if the bite will take,” Caleb interrupted, jaw tense. He still gripped his cutlery tightly. Elinore wondered if the metal would bend under his hands.
Hayter waved a hand grandiosely as though that were a minor detail. He shot back the remainder of his own wine and then reached for the decanter to pour another glass, filling Elinore’s glass again as he did. Every moment thereafter seemed poised on a fulcrum - as though the wrong movement, the wrong gesture, the wrong word in either direction, would topple the table. Elinore finished her meal and excused herself without waiting for proper leave - rising from the table before either man could register her intention to move. Once back in her bedroom, she felt guilty for her escape. Would Caleb feel abandoned? Would he think she didn’t want to see him tonight? They’d not spoken of how things would progress between them and now she might have given him some sort of notion she no longer wanted to be with him. Elinore didn’t know the etiquette in a situation like this. Should she have stayed? Should she have made her wants clear? What was she to do now? She collapsed in a most undignified manner on the bed, sighing deeply. Why were there no rules for this? It was quite clear in the world of friendships and social calling what one was supposed to do. Should Elinore want to be friends with a young lady, she would call on them, or invite them to tea. Should the young lady want to pursue the friendship, there would be a return visit or invite. But Elinore did not know what the rules were when the other party was a gentleman. It ought to be taught at school, she thought, or perhaps by a specific ladies tutor. How else was she to know?
Elinore placed the chair under the door handle as was her usual routine, unwilling to be without it. She wondered if such a construct could even stop Hayter as a wolf. She shivered at the thought. She stared at it for a long moment before turning away, determined to occupy herself. She busied herself reading and knitting, her eyes continually darting to the door, wondering if she should go to Caleb’s room. Knock upon the door? Let herself in if he was still downstairs? She tried to concentrate and listen for the familiar tone of Caleb’s voice. Perhaps he was still with Hayter. She was unable to focus, her feelings too scattered. Frustrated, she gave up on her tasks and decided to go to bed. She quickly changed and let her hair down, letting her fingers trail over the strands and imagining it was Caleb brushing her hair. Now would certainly be a good night for Mrs. Davenport to arrive with some of her calming tea, but it seemed Elinore was on her own. She tossed and turned on her bed before finally settling on her side facing the window. Through the open curtains, she could see the sharp, silver light of the moon, nearly full, as it bore down on the night. Only a few more nights until it would be complete. A deep longing pulled at her as her chest.
A soft knock at her door had her heart racing.
“Elinore? Are you awake?”
She exhaled. It was Caleb. Sliding out of bed, she pulled the chair away and opened the door. He looked up with a smile as she swung open the door. She rushed forward, gleefully throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face in the soft hollow beneath his ear. His arms came up and around her, warm and solid.
“I did not know the proper thing to do,” she said quietly as she pulled him into her room. “If I should have gone to your room or waited, although truthfully I could not bear another moment with Hayter.” She gave a shudder of distaste.
Caleb’s lips curled wryly. “He’s quite taxing at times.” His eyes paused on the chair by the door. “What is this?”
“Oh, I’ve been placing it under my door handle. For security,” she added at his confused look.
His eyes sharpened on her. “Has Hayter done something…”
Elinore shook her head. “Nothing other than be his usual, contrary self. But a woman must be careful and always on her guard.”
“I hope you do not feel that way with me. If you want me to go…”
She gripped his hand more tightly. “No!” she exclaimed and then realized how loud her voice had been. “I mean, I should like it very much if you stayed.” Was that too forward, she wondered? But then she realized she had passed that milestone some time back.
Caleb looked around her room and she wondered what he was searching for until he moved to her vanity and picked up her hairbrush. He glanced at her and she would have described his look as hesitant and shy. She gestured minutely to the bed and then blushed, sitting down gingerly on the bed. Caleb took a moment to pull off his boots and coat and then maneuvered himself behind her, leaning against her pillows, one leg spread out on the bed and the other bent with his foot on the floor. She was able to scoot backward and sit between his legs, already feeling the warmth of his body against hers, and inhaling the scent she’d come to associate with him. She crossed her legs, glad that her nightgown was billowy enough to cover her knees. Elinore closed her eyes as she felt the first brushstroke against her hair. Caleb brushed with long, smooth strokes, starting at the top of her scalp and running down the length of her hair. At times, he would pick up a small handful of strands and work his way carefully through some tangles at the end. His movements were uncertain and bashful. It was quite obvious he was afraid of pulling her hair too tightly or not working through it well enough. Nevertheless, it was very relaxing and Elinore’s mind went hazy. Her thoughts and worries felt foggy and very far away. Caleb remained silent as he brushed, but she heard the sound of his heart, even and strong. She swayed slightly backward with each pull of the brush, and then bobbed forward again when her hair was released from the bristles. Her eyelids grew heavy and she doubted she could open them if she wanted to. She found herself in the tremulous state in between land of partial sleep where her thoughts were disjointed and strange. In her mind, she could see the large trees of the forest looming over her, see the white wolf paused just at the peripheral of her vision, as if waiting for her to fall the remainder of the way into the dream world. The black wolf was poised beside the white one and Elinore felt warm and happy at his presence. But then, off to the side was movement in the trees - grey and white. A predatory presence circling them, watching them. The white wolf turned her head to the forest and sniffed, her long snout high in the air. Elinore could smell the same thing the she-wolf smelled - something strange and familiar all at once. The feral wolf. Its smell was slightly sour, making her nose wrinkle. Another delicate wiggling of the white wolf’s nose brought a different scent to Elinore’s olfactory senses - this one was decidedly male in its scent and also slightly familiar. Hayter? She would know him well enough, she supposed, to recognize him by scent. Even the thought was distasteful to her. A raven, Elinore’s raven, alighted on her shoulder, its familiar weight welcome to Elinore. With her wolf before her and her raven beside her, Elinore was complete. The raven pressed its beak against her ear and whispered more half words and sayings. Things about truth, about hiding, about being part of a pack. In the lazy, drifting world of pre-sleep, Elinore couldn’t make sense of it and didn’t want to stir herself to understand. Her eyes flickered over to where the black wolf licked at the white wolf’s ears, grooming her. Thoughts of the other two wolves seemed distant and unimportant. She sighed and with a strange sort of duality, she laid down in the forest and at the same time felt herself being tipped sideways in bed, feeling her soft pillow under her cheek. A long line of solid warmth pressed up against her back and she wiggled backward trying to get closer. A warm puff of air went across her ear and she knew it was from Caleb, breathing out in an amused, content huff, as she pressed closer into his warmth.
Chapter Sixteen
Elinore drifted into wakefulness in much the same way she had drifted into sleep - unhurried and slow, decadently wallowing in drowsy warmth and comfort. It took a moment to reconcile the unfamiliar weight against her body as Caleb’s bulk pressed against her. She was curled up on her side, nose tucked under the covers to keep it warm and he was stretched out against her back, an arm curled around her waist. She had a vague recollection of falling asleep while he brushed her hair and felt somewhat disappointed about it. She’d rather been looking forward to more… physical activities and now she felt as though she missed some kind of opportunity or chance. She shifted a bit, stretching out one of her legs that was sore at the hip from too much time on one side. Caleb’s arm tightened around her as though he thought she would move away from him. His arm relaxed when she stopped moving and settled back against him motionless. The first touches of light came across the horizon and filtered through her curtains. One more day closer to the full moon. One more day closer to learning if she would shift into a wolf.
Elinore hoped she would.
She didn’t know what it would mean for her future, or how she would adapt, but she did know she felt more assured and decisive than she had ever felt in her life. She liked it. She liked the confidence and the strength. In fact, she was partially afraid she wouldn’t shift, that she wouldn’t become a wolf, and all these new feelings would fall away, like water through her fingers, unable to be kept. She liked the way she felt now.
“What are you thinking?”
Caleb’s voice was low and sleep-rough, his breath tickling the small hairs at the back of her neck. It was a glorious sensation. He shifted slightly, trying to tug her even closer, although she was already pressed against him. Her breath stuttered at the feeling of his sex pressed against her backside. He was already stiff and hard and he started rocking his hips lazily against her, almost as an afterthought. Her throat made a low, happy growling sound that surprised her as she pushed back against him.
“About the full moon. About being a wolf.”
Caleb stilled and she turned her head slightly to catch his countenance out of the corner of her eye.
“Are you unhappy about it?”
“No,” she answered truthfully. He leaned forward and pressed his nose against her shoulder and inhaled deeply. She remembered yesterday when he said her scent had gone acrid and displeased.
“Are you trying to determine if I’m lying?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, his lips pressed against the fabric of her nightgown and her shoulder.
“Am I?”
He pressed his nose against her shoulder and inhaled again and then sighed, long and content. “No. You smell calm. Happy.”
“I am.” She shifted against him, coming to rest more on her back than her side so that she could see his face better. “Why the full moon?”
“Pardon?” Caleb asked, his eyebrows coming together in a v-shape.
“You mentioned before that you, that all werewolves were more powerful on the full moon, and that I must wait for the full moon to see if I turn.” At Caleb’s small nod, Elinore continued, “Why the full moon?”
Caleb’s fingers threaded through her hair, much like he had wielded her brush the night before. His face went pensive as he thought and she waited patiently for him to speak.
“I’m not entirely sure of the ‘why.’ I was born a werewolf. My mother and father were wolves before me and their parents before them. I’ve always been told fables and legends of wolves in much the same way I imagine you were told stories and tales as a child. It was
only as I grew older that I realized our tales were different. Tales of kind and goodly wolves facing off against evil and corrupt humans out to take over their land or steal were-children away from their parents.” He paused, meeting her eyes for a moment. “We learned well as children never to shift in front of anyone unless our parents bade us to and never to trust anyone with our secret. It’s something you must learn as well.”
Elinore nodded silently. She understood the need for secrecy and wasn’t about to tell anyone lest she be burned at the stake.
Caleb continued his narrative. “Many of our stories are creation myths, the same way that there are many creation stories for humans. Unlike most of the wolf myths in human lore, our werewolf myths don’t portray the change or the bite as a curse or a punishment. I don’t know where we come from, truly, but… one of our myths concerns a young woman whose lover goes off to fight in a war in the name of the Great Wolf Goddess. Upon the return of the men from battle, the maiden is presented with a shield, her lover’s shield. It is all that is left of him. She is heartbroken and distraught at the death of her lover, but also uncertain of her future as she is several months pregnant and has no family of her own, nor of her lover’s to turn to. The time comes for her to give birth and she does so away from her village, having run away in her grief, deep into the forest. She gives birth under the full moon with only a raven to keep her company. The baby, affected by her mother’s grief, is a small sickly thing. The new mother wails and howls at the moon, demanding the Great Wolf Goddess save her child. Her lover has already died in the Goddess’ name and the woman refuses to lose her child as well. The Great Wolf Goddess comes down from the full moon and, to save the child, turns the baby, a girl, into a half wolf-half human, promising her mother that the child will have increased strength, increased longevity and increased speed. But the price, she maintains, is that she must remember to shift into her true wolf form at least once a month. If she does not, she will be forced to do so on the full moon. The child must never deny the animal part of herself. The baby girl is said to be the first of our kind, but it is her mother who is said to be the progenitor of our species - the mother who was strong enough to demand a Goddess save her baby.”
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