by Lydia Dare
Just before the moon reached its highest peak, the point where it would beckon uncontrollably to those of his kind, Simon clapped Oliver on the back and asked, "Ready?"
The boy simply nodded, worry knitting his brow. As they stepped into the garden, Simon already felt the pull of the moon, the rush of power that surged through him. He looked at Oliver and knew that he felt it, too, even though the boy probably was unable to distinguish between the wildness of the event and the act of moving from humanity to… not.
Simon wound through the woods on a trail noticeable only to those of his kind. He followed his nose, noting that an elk had recently followed a similar path. Will sniffed the air and said, "No humans."
Simon nodded. For this one event, they would all stay together. Changing was usually a solitary moment, but they feared Oliver would need guidance and the attendance of at least one of them.
Simon and Will began to remove their shirts, boots and stockings after they reached a clearing, a place devoid of shadows so there would be no trees to obscure the light of the moon. For modesty's sake, they left on their trousers, even knowing the garments would be destroyed when they changed. On most occasions, they removed all of their clothing and left it where they could find it before the moon sank and was replaced by the sun. They became wild before the wildness could even take them. But not tonight. Tonight, they wanted to do all they could to keep Oliver calm, so they didn't strip but instead brought extra clothes to don later.
As usual, Simon would be the first to change. As the leader of the pack, he always felt the call of the moon a little more strongly than the others.
Simon closed his eyes and lifted his face to the moon. It was then that humanity fell away and the beast was freed. His body began to change, painful as he knew it would be. Yet he did not cry out because he craved the freedom that came with changing. He wanted the clenching of muscles. He desired the lengthening of his spine. He needed the change of his face to something that was not human.
When his change was complete, he stood still and watched Maberley's face. Fear filled his eyes. In a singular act of goodwill, he walked closer and nudged the boy's arm with his nose. Oliver took two steps back. Simon nudged him again. It was best to let him know that the Lycans still recognized friendships, families, and loyalty. The boy would not be alone.
Oliver watched as Will went through a similar transition, changing into something more than feral, something more than wild. Simon knew the two of them, so similar in human appearance, looked similar even in Lycan form, the only distinguishing characteristic being Simon's streak of silver hair, which followed him even into the beastly world.
Oliver cried out as he began to change, perhaps surprised by the pain, yet oddly comforted by it, if he felt at all the same way Simon did when he, himself, changed. The boy would be fine. He would be there for him. He would nurture and tutor him. He would chew up the world and spit it back out if that's what it took for Oliver to take part in it.
When the three transformations were complete, Oliver followed Will into the darkness. Simon crested the hill, climbing higher and higher until he stood at the top overlooking Langley Downs. There Lily slept, her beautiful head on a pillow. He could imagine her scent, her feel, and the way her skin might taste behind her ear. He licked his lips, salivating a little at the thought. Even now, he was aroused at the very thought of her.
But this side of him she could never know. She could never encounter this part of him, or she would turn from him in disgust. He raised his head toward the moon and called out to her, knowing that she would not hear, that she would not understand. Yet he did. He understood it all too well.
***
Lily sat bolt upright in bed. What was that? She was almost certain she'd heard Simon call her name. She was obviously a candidate for Bedlam, as he was surely sound asleep at Westfield Hall.
There it was again, a feeling as if he called out to her. Lily blinked in the darkness. Then she heard a faint howl off in the distance. She rose from bed and peered out the window. High in the night sky, the full moon illuminated the countryside.
She shook her head. It was probably her imagination.
Fifteen
Prisca Hawthorne did know how to command a room. Lily watched in awe as her friend deftly managed the overcrowded parlor, filled with hulking Hawthorne men.
Only Sir Herbert and his oldest son, Emory, had been at dinner the night before, but now there were three others, all of them similar in build and looks. Tall, though none as tall as Simon or Will. Dark haired, ranging from a chestnut brown to nearly black. There was Mr. Garrick Hawthorne, a quiet man who, Prisca told her, had recently taken the post of vicar in a neighboring village to be closer to his family; Lieutenant Darius Hawthorne, who had returned from Waterloo the previous summer and now spent most of his time in London; and Mr. Pierce Hawthorne, a tradesman. Prisca had whispered that bit as if it were a sin. He'd made a small fortune in shipping in South Hampton.
Lily was surprised that all of their eyes seemed to follow her, as she'd never commanded this much attention in Essex. Of course, at home she wasn't a novelty.
Despite all the activity at Langley Downs, Lily missed Simon more than she could have ever imagined. After she'd woken the night before, she'd had a difficult time getting back to sleep. She wanted nothing more than to be back at Westfield Hall so she could tiptoe into Oliver's room, touch his cheek, and slip back out. She wanted to argue with Simon and banter with Will. But she'd lain awake, listening to the wind buffet her window, alone.
Oliver. Simon. Will. Westfield Hall. None of those things were hers. She would do well to remember that and cease her pining for a life that wasn't, and probably never would be, hers.
What if Prisca's elaborate plans for tonight did nothing, and Simon still wanted her to leave Hampshire? What if all his kisses had just been something to pass the time? He was known all over England for his female conquests. Would she be just another successful tryst he could add to his list?
She made her way to the large window and stared off into the distance, toward Westfield Hall.
"Why do you look so sad, Miss Rutledge?" the vicar asked, coming to stand beside her.
Lily plastered a false smile on her face. "Just woolgathering, Mr. Hawthorne."
***
While she should have been listening to Emory and Darius banter back and forth, Prisca watched Lily talk with Garrick and tapped her chin mindlessly. There was so much to do, and not a lot of time. She'd have to find recruits.
"…Prissy?" Darius said.
Prisca's attention snapped to her middle brother. "I know you did not just call me Prissy." No one did that. Not anymore.
Darius chuckled. "Indeed, it was the only way to get your attention. You must have been a thousand miles away."
"Obviously incorrect, as I am right here, Dari."
He shook his head. "What are you up to with Miss Rutledge?"
Prisca cocked her head toward her brother. "What am I up to? I don't think I like your insinuation."
Darius draped his arm around her shoulders. "You're my sister and I love you, but there's not one generous bone in your body. So you must be up to something."
Beside them, Emory laughed at her expense. Prisca leveled both of them with her haughtiest look. "Something you want to add, Emory?"
"No, no," her eldest brother said, raising his hands as he backed up a step. "I think Darius has it well under control."
Well, fine, they all thought she was looking after her own interests. That shouldn't bother her. This was a selfless act on her part, however, whether her irritating brothers believed it or not.
Maybe she could use their unflattering view of her to Lily's advantage. How fortuitous. "Very well, I wasn't going to tell either of you this, but since you seem to think I only think of myself, I'll have to prove you wrong."
"By all means." Darius grinned at her.
"Lily is looking for a husband, and I don't see why it can't be one of you
."
"She seemed so focused on rearing her nephew." Emory's eyes flashed across the room, landing on Lily. Prisca had to bite back a smile. This would be too easy.
"True," she said, sliding out of Darius' hold. "That was before Blackmoor decided to take his guardianship seriously. Besides, the boy's bound for Harrow for the Michaelmas term. To show his gratitude for all her years of service, Simon Westfield has bestowed upon Lily a grotesquely large dowry."
Now Darius' eyes flashed to Lily and Garrick across the room. "You make us sound like piranha, Priss. What do we care about Blackmoor's funds? She's a pretty girl to be sure, but you can't mean to leg shackle one of us to her? We barely know her."
Prisca rolled her eyes. Not very ladylike, but the two fellows were her brothers. "Well, why not you? Lily will marry someone. She's pretty and kind, and I might enjoy being the relation of a duke, even distantly."
"Indeed?" Darius grinned. "Is that why you and Will…" But his voice trailed off when her glower darkened dangerously.
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," she bit out.
He looked at once like a remorseful little boy. "Sorry, Priss, I didn't mean…"
She shook her head. "William Westfield means nothing to me. In fact, as Lily is hunting for her husband, I think I shall hunt for mine." She pretended to ignore the twin looks of surprise her brothers exchanged. Then she feigned an innocent frown, reeling them completely in. "I do hope there will be several eligible bachelors there this evening."
Emory proudly thrust his chest out. "If you are serious, Prisca, I can personally guarantee a full house."
She graced him with a most charming smile. "Well, I should have choices, and so should Lily—especially if none of you are interested in scooping her up."
As predicted, both of her brothers' eyes flashed back to her friend, now alone, as she stared out the window. They really were too easy to manipulate.
***
Simon was more anxious than he could ever remember being before. It had been two days since he'd seen Lily. Two days without her melodic laugh. Two days without her smile, her scent, her twinkling hazel eyes focused on him.
This blasted ball at the assembly room couldn't happen soon enough to satisfy him. He rushed Parker through the chore of readying him for the event and was pacing the floor of his parlor two hours earlier than necessary.
Will peeked inside the room, grinning ear to ear. "Ready, are you?"
His blasted brother wasn't even dressed to go. "Why aren't you?"
"It's hardly time," Will responded, dropping onto a light blue settee. "Relax."
"Get dressed," Simon ordered.
Will simply chuckled. "For God's sake, Simon, you're wound more tightly than a child's top. Have a drink or something to calm your nerves."
Simon glowered at him. "You could just meet me there."
"Or I could stay away completely," his brother suggested with a grin.
"That's a fabulous idea," Simon replied, starting for the door. Then he threw over his shoulder, "I wish you'd declined the invitation to begin with. I'd much rather have Lily here tonight."
"You are a man besotted."
"Just anxious. I want to discuss a proposition with her."
"A proposition?" Will echoed. "Down on one knee and the whole bit?"
Simon stopped short. Marriage. He wished it could be that. It wasn't even safe to keep her in Hampshire, but to live with him day in and day out, to be his wife… He couldn't put her in that sort of danger. If anything ever happened to her, he'd never forgive himself. "I didn't say 'proposal.'"
Will's blue eyes seemed to stare right into him. "You're making a mistake."
"You keep saying that, and I have yet to ask for your advice." Simon quit the room and headed out of the house.
He stepped lightly down the steps, anxious to be inside the coach, on his way to Lily.
"Your Grace." His coachman bowed, then opened the door of his carriage.
"Langley Downs," Simon instructed him.
He had a good twenty minutes before he reached the Hawthornes' estate, and he leaned his head back against the squabs, closing his eyes. Lily hadn't made any comments about wanting to marry him, just that she didn't want him to send her away. Everything would be fine, if he could just see her again.
When he arrived at Langley Downs, Simon nearly bowled the old butler over on his way inside. "Y-your Grace," the man stuttered, righting himself.
"I'd like to see Miss Rutledge," Simon announced.
The butler shook his head. "Miss Rutledge and Miss Hawthorne are preparing for the ball. Would you like to wait for them in the parlor?"
He'd like to stomp right up the Hawthornes' stairs, knock down Prisca's door, and throw Lily over his shoulder… Though he didn't really have a choice. "The parlor?"
The Hawthornes' butler nodded. "We have a full house today, Your Grace."
"Indeed?" Simon soon found himself at the threshold of Langley Downs' yellow parlor. One, two, three, four… Every Hawthorne brother was in attendance, save one. "Where's Blaine?" he asked in way of greeting.
Emory looked up from his perusal of The Times. "Still at Cambridge. How are you, Simon?" He stood, crossed the room, and offered his hand, which Simon clasped.
Every other Hawthorne brother offered his welcome and then went back to his previous activity. Garrick and Pierce returned to their game of chess, and Darius focused his attention on a piece of foolscap.
"Brandy?" Emory asked him, as he headed for a decanter.
Simon nodded. What were they all doing here? Emory was generally the only one in residence. "What brought everyone home?"
Emory handed him a tumbler and shrugged. "Prisca, it seems, is intent on finding a husband for your Miss Rutledge, and she thought to start with us."
Simon nearly broke the glass in his hands. He had to rein in his control to keep from doing so. "She what?"
Emory smiled. "Did you really bestow a grotesquely large dowry on the chit? That doesn't seem like you."
They'd never discussed amounts. Although Lily said she wouldn't accept even a farthing from him. Simon's vision got bleary. Lily wouldn't do this. How many times had she told him she wanted to stay?
"You all right, Blackmoor?" Emory asked, concern in his voice.
Simon nodded. "I'm, uh, just surprised she told anyone, is all." Why would she have told Prisca Hawthorne, of all people? He would strangle any Hawthorne brother who thought he could take Lily from him.
"So it is true?"
"I said it, yes." Could he take it back? March up the stairs and demand she forget any man except him? That idea had promise. "I would like to see Miss Rutledge."
Emory smirked. "Good luck with that. Prisca said they'll be down when they're ready and not a moment before."
Sixteen
Simon's breath whooshed from his lungs. Dear God! Was that Lily?
Lily wore an exquisite green gown that accentuated curves she generally kept hidden. Her pretty auburn locks were loosely piled on her head, adorned with tiny gold roses. Though she was gorgeous, Simon wanted nothing better than to strip her bare and remove every blasted rose.
When she saw him, her face lit up, and Simon couldn't help but grin like a fool.
"Simon," she whispered.
He was before her in less than a heartbeat. Two days without her was too long. "Lily."
She blushed, and he felt his heart expand. Was there a way to forgo this stupid ball?
"I wish there was a way I could speak with you privately, Lily," Simon said quietly as he looked at her. He wanted to offer his plan to her before the ball, so he could get this unbearable burden lifted from his chest. Simon glanced around. There wasn't a quiet corner available, anywhere. "Might we take a walk in the garden?" Simon held out his arm to her. Her smile warmed his heart.
"I'm not sure that would be quite proper," Lily hedged, throwing a glance at Prisca and raising a questioning eyebrow.
"Of course you can take a wa
lk in the garden together. The man is giving you a dowry so you can find a husband. I feel certain he has no designs upon your person," Prisca responded. Her violet eyes twinkled.
Simon tugged Lily's hand until they were out of the manor and alone on the garden path. The scent of roses hung in the air. But nothing smelled as delectable as she did. "I've missed you," he said as he pulled her gently beneath the arbor and wrapped his arms around her.
"Really?" she asked quietly.
Simon gently and tenderly touched his lips to hers. Despite the waning of the moon, he was fully and completely in control of the beast. Where he could not have been gentle with her yesterday, he could be today.
