Master Wolf
Page 24
“I do,” Lindsay interrupted, reaching his arm around Drew to pull him closer. “I want it all, everything you are prepared to give me. If I hesitate it’s because I had to accept a long time ago that I couldn’t have you, even though I desperately wanted you. It may… take me some time to trust that your feelings on that have changed.” He gave a trembling smile. “But you’re right. Time is one thing we have in abundance.”
They kissed again, softly, lightly. Then Drew said. “Shift with me. You need to heal more.”
“You hate shifting,” Lindsay murmured against his lips. “You only do it at full moon, when you have to.”
“That was before,” Drew replied, smiling. “My wolf and I have… reached a new understanding.”
“I’m glad,” Lindsay whispered. “I love your wolf.” Sitting up, he moved onto his hands and knees, lifted his head up ceilingward and shifted with a swift, quiet elegance that Drew could only envy.
Already Lindsay’s wolf looked better. His coat was sleeker, the bare patches growing over. He padded over to Drew and ducked his head, rubbing his cheek against Drew’s face. The gesture—sweet and loving—brought tears to Drew’s eyes.
Drew stroked his head, loving the thick fur beneath his fingers. “It may take me a little longer, love, but I’m coming,” he said. “Wait for me.”
Epilogue
Bath, England
20th May 1821
* * *
My dearest Lindsay,
I am writing this letter from our new home which (can you believe it?) is in Bath, of all places! I was certain we would be returning to Paris but Mim decided we should find somewhere quieter for Alys. When she heard that Bath had a reputation for being restful, she arranged a visit and Alys liked it very well. She said as much in two whole words (which is very talkative for Alys): “home” and—admittedly rather obscurely—“dragonfly”. Since she smiled when she said her second word, Mim and I decided that counted as approval. At any rate, we have now rented a house at Sydney Gardens until the end of the year, so we are going to be here for a little while at least.
The hierarchy of our household is quite interesting. Mim has sat at the top of our little tree since I’ve known her, but Alys has rather disrupted things—well, she is Mim’s maker, I suppose. It’s curious though. Sometimes, she acts as though she is in charge of us all. At other times, she behaves almost like a child. She’s a fanciful creature.
Although her tongue is grown back, she still rarely speaks. A word here or there at most. We hope that will increase, though she does not seem to mind being almost mute.
Her hair has also grown back fully and it is completely white—not a brilliant white, like snow. More like the cream from the top of the milk. Her eyebrows and lashes are the same. With being so pale-skinned—paler than you even—she looks like a little ghost sometimes.
As we both know, though, looks can be deceptive She can’t be as delicate as she looks. She survived centuries in the hands of the White Ravens after all.
Mim says most of the silver burns on her body have healed now. There are still some faint scars on her face, which may vanish in time. What other scars she may bear—on her mind, on her soul—we don’t know. But then, we don’t even know how old she is. What trials she has been through in her long, long life. Mim says she was already very old when Mim first met her.
It’s odd. When I look at Alys, I feel so protective of her, as though she is delicate and fragile, when the truth is, I am the fragile one among us. The lone mortal, getting on in years. There is a wisdom that comes from mortality though. Lessons that can only be learned from the gradual weakening of the body. I am younger than every one of you—but sometimes I feel like the oldest of us all.
As for Mim, she misses you both. And Francis, of course. She speaks of him every day, as though she is afraid his memory might slip away if she does not do so. It helps, I think, that she has Alys and me.
We have decided to live as unashamed eccentrics here in Bath. To our new neighbours we will appear to be a handsome older man (if I do say so myself) with a pair of beautiful women at his beck and call (if only they knew!) We have already been given the cut direct by the exceedingly snooty residents of number eight and we are looking forward to arousing gossip when we attend an assembly later this week. It is rather surprising that Mim is so willing to put her head above the parapet but there is something about Alys that brings out her mischievous side.
Ah, now, here she is: the First Lady of the Treasury herself. She has just walked into the drawing room and is demanding to know what I’m doing. Excuse me a moment, while I make my report…
I am back.
Mim says she wants Drew to bring her something pretty from Italy for her mantelpiece: a china shepherdess? She is laughing uproariously at that. Does it make any kind of sense to you?
I hope you are having a wonderful time in Verona, my dear. No work or excitement. Only good food and wine and sleeping like a lion in the sunshine with your lover. For this while at least.
But I do miss you, my friend. Come back restored and well-rested. Then we will see what lies in store for us all. Our next chapter.
Until the summer, my dear.
Always your loving friend,
Wynne Wildsmith.”
* * *
Lindsay gazed at the letter after he finished reading it, running his fingertips over the familiar handwriting.
His reverie was interrupted by a soft, rumbling snore. He glanced at the enormous bed where his lover lay sleeping in a tangle of bed linens, only his barley-fair head visible.
Rising from his chair, Lindsay crossed the bedchamber floor, his bare feet silent on the cool marble floor. For a moment he simply stood by the side of the bed, gazing down at Drew, at his lean, powerful body, curled in the curious vulnerability of sleep.
Lindsay should really wake Drew up, but he looked so appealing lying there. Instead, he eased the tangled edge of the topmost sheet out from under Drew’s body and climbed in beside him, pressing his cool body against Drew’s warm one.
Drew made a soft, happy noise and turned over towards Lindsay.
“Mhmmm.”
Lindsay loved that contented rumbling sound. He ducked his head and pressed a kiss against Drew’s throat, making him rumble again, then laugh softly. When Lindsay lifted his head again, his lover’s eyes were open, the expression in them warm with affection as he gazed at Lindsay.
“What time is it,” Drew murmured.
“Eleven.”
“It can’t be!” Drew protested.
“It is,” Lindsay confirmed. “But you did have a very disturbed night’s sleep.”
Drew grinned at him. “I did. It was… quite a night. I may have to shift to recover.”
Lindsay chuckled. “You seemed to enjoy it—and you were a very good pup for me.”
Drew flushed a little at that, but he smiled too, and his face was so bright with happiness, Lindsay’s heart skipped a beat.
Drew lifted his hand and threaded his fingers through Lindsay’s hair.
“I like your hair like this.”
“It’s not as long as it was before.”
Drew leaned forward and kissed him. “Nothing stays the same forever.”
“Thankfully no,” Lindsay murmured against his lips.
When they finally broke apart, Drew said, “What were you doing up anyway?”
“Reading my correspondence.”
“Oh? Who from?”
“Wynne. I’ve another from Marguerite but I’ve not read that one yet—and she’s sent a note for you too. I have a feeling there may be instructions for us in those ones.”
Drew groaned but he was smiling.
“What was Wynne saying?”
“They’ve taken a house in Bath.”
“Bath?”
“I know. He says Alys likes it there.”
“What’s going on with them, do you think?”
Lindsay shook his head. “I don’t know. But Wynn
e sounds… happy.”
It was true, and Lindsay was glad of it, but he couldn’t stop thinking about those lines in the middle of the letter.
The truth is, I am the fragile one among us. The lone mortal, getting on in years.
“What’s wrong?” Drew said, touching his chin and lifting it till their gazes met.
“I don’t know how I’ll bear it,” Lindsay said. “When Wynne’s time comes.”
“Lindsay Somerville,” Drew chided, stroking his hair gently. “That is too far away to worry about now. Imagine what Wynne would say if he could hear you.”
Lindsay nodded. “Very true. Who knows what the next ten, twenty, thirty years will bring?”
“Not a one of us,” Drew said, “But I’ll make you a wager.”
“A wager?” Lindsay replied, lifting an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it then.”
“I’ll stake everything I own that, thirty years from now, I’ll still love you.”
“Only thirty years?”
“Make it a hundred if you like,” Drew said, leaning in for another kiss. “Or even better, to the end of time. It’s all the same to me.”
* * *
The End
Thank you, dear reader
Thank you for reading this book!
Thank you for spending your valuable time with
Lindsay and Drew.
I hope you enjoyed their company as much as I did when I was writing them.
I love hearing from readers…
….and there are so many ways to connect!
* * *
Email me at authorjoannachambers@gmail.com
* * *
Visit my website at www.joannachambers.com
* * *
Connect with me on social media through those
cute little icons below.
* * *
Sign up for my newsletter here for up to date
information about my books, special deals… and other random musings.
* * *
If you have time, I’d be very grateful if you’d consider leaving a review on an online review site. Reviews are so helpful for book visibility.
I appreciate every one.
A few other quick thank yous:
* * *
Annika Martin and Sally Malcolm for their amazing feedback;
* * *
My lovely Facebook group members (Joanna’s Chamber) and my other social media friends for keeping up
my writing spirits;
* * *
And my husband for his endless patience
with my endless distractedness.
* * *
Joanna Chambers
Also by Joanna Chambers
Capital Wolves duet
Gentleman Wolf
Master Wolf
* * *
Enlightenment series
Provoked
Beguiled
Enlightened
Unnatural
* * *
Winterbourne series
Introducing Mr Winterbourne
Mr Winterbourne’s Christmas
* * *
With Annika Martin
Enemies Like You
* * *
Porthkennack series (Riptide)
A Gathering Storm
Tribute Act
* * *
Other novels
The Dream Alchemist
Unforgivable
* * *
Novellas
Merry & Bright (festive anthology)
Humbug
Rest and Be Thankful
Provoked (Enlightenment #1)
Tormented by his forbidden desires for other men and the painful memories of the childhood friend he once loved, lawyer David Lauriston tries to maintain a celibate existence while he forges his reputation in Edinburgh’s privileged legal world.
But then, into his repressed and orderly life, bursts Lord Murdo Balfour.
Cynical, hedonistic and utterly unapologetic, Murdo could not be less like David. And as appalled as David is by Murdo’s unrepentant self-interest, he cannot resist the man’s sway. Murdo tempts and provokes David in equal measure, forcing him to acknowledge his physical desires.
But Murdo is not the only man distracting David from his work. Euan MacLennan, the brother of a convicted radical David once represented, approaches David to beg him for help. Euan is searching for the government agent who sent his brother to Australia on a convict ship, and other radicals to the gallows. Despite knowing it may damage his career, David cannot turn Euan away.
As their search progresses, it begins to look as though the trail may lead to none other than Lord Murdo Balfour, and David has to wonder whether it’s possible Murdo could be more than he seems. Is he really just a bored aristocrat, amusing himself at David’s expense, or could he be the agent provocateur responsible for the fate of Peter MacLennan and the other radicals?