Wolf's Castle

by Madelyn Hill

  A slim book peeked from beneath the hidden door. She picked it up and wiped the cover free of dirt. She turned it over in her hand and looked for a name or monogram. She flipped the pages and realized ‘twas Lady Maclean’s journal. Intrigued that she could read and write, Vivian was compelled to give Galen the book.

  Despite her curiosity, she remained honorable and didn’t read what was written in the private journal of Lady Maclean. Instead, she’d allow Galen an opportunity to share the contents with her. It would be telling if he shared. It would be telling if he chose not to.

  She felt the box to ensure it was still there and headed toward her own chamber to hide it along with the small journal.

  Alice wiped her hands on her apron, then removed it. Underneath, she wore a becoming gown Vivian had never seen.

  Excitement bubbled within her. After hours dipping candles, draping holly and pine boughs, and the endless baking, the holiday was here.

  Vivian wore one of Lady Maclean’s gowns. A deep, red velvet with satin trimmings and exquisite embroidery of full-bloomed roses. They flowed over the gown’s overskirt. Her decadent lace petticoat was black. Its softness caressed her skin with each step. The neckline ‘twas indecent and sent a flush of embarrassment to her cheeks. Never had she allowed so much skin to be shown.

  Earlier she had placed Galen’s gifts amongst the others beneath the decorated tree, wrapped especially so that he’d ken she gave thought to the gift. She was so excited to see him open them.

  Alice studied her with an appreciative look. “You look lovely, lass.”

  Pleased, she smiled. “Thank you. And I must say you look grand.”

  The older woman waved her hand in disbelief but didn’t hide her delight. “The others are waiting in the main hall. The food is ready. Why don’t we make our way there?”

  Vivian nodded, surprised to find she was nervous. ‘Twas dinner, nothing more than that.

  “Ready?” The maidservant asked.

  “Aye.”

  She followed Alice, who quickly ducked out of the way when they passed through the large entrance to the hall.

  Feeling like a princess, Vivian stilled as she took in the amber glow that emanated from dozens of lit candles. The luscious scent of pine, rosemary, and roasted lamb curled around her and lured her in. The crèche holding baby Jesus, Mary, and Joseph flanked the fireplace. Dressed in all their finery, everyone sat at the grand polished table.

  Everyone but Galen.

  He stood at the head of the table, his jaw tight as his gaze raked her from head to toe. He came to greet her, his hand held forward to escort her to her seat. Her fingers shook as she took his hand, warm and rough, steady and strong.

  She inhaled. He smelled of soap and leather, a scent she’d never forget even when she left the island.

  He seated her to his right before returning to his chair. She watched him move with raw energy and strength. His skin, bronze from the outdoors, seemed even darker against the snow-white shirt and navy doublet. He’d brushed his hair back but left its length unsecured. When his eyes met hers, she took a sip of wine to avoid his gaze.

  Her heart filled her throat when she thought of how handsome he was.

  The meal passed with quiet decorum. Each of them mused about Christmases past and how they enjoyed the hall, now brought back to its glory.

  The fire roared as they sipped mulled wine after dinner. It softened the sound of the wind banging at the large windows of Wolf’s Castle.

  Despite the warm scene and contentment Vivian felt, sadness lay off to the side, tangible, ready to pounce and remind her of her father’s absence. With a wan smile, she snuffed a burgeoning tear with her finger.

  “’Tis time to open gifts,” Nessa declared.

  The maidservant crouched by the tree as well as her girth allowed and shuffled through the stack of modestly wrapped gifts. She picked up a small bundle and shook it. “For you, Alex lad.”

  Madge looked around the room a bit sheepishly as she accepted her son’s gift. “Thank you, Nessa.”

  Alex patted the present and then began chewing on it with a happy gurgle. Everyone laughed and Nessa passed out more gifts.

  Alice held up a scarf, one that had been salvaged from her trunk by Galen. “Why, m’lady, ‘tis lovely, it is.”

  Bernard and Nessa enjoyed the teacakes and the half dozen candles Vivian had made for them.

  Galen cleared his throat. “Good night. And. . .Nollaig.” He bowed and started to leave.

  “Wait,” Vivian called. “I’ve something for you.”

  Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he came forward and accepted her presents. He unwrapped the trinket box and journal and looked at her with a bemused smile. “Thank you.”

  “Open it.”

  He lifted the lid and stared at the contents for what seemed an eternity. He followed suit with the journal.

  She had to fill the silence. “I found them in the east wing. In your mother’s room.”

  He reached for her and caught her hand in his. She felt a tremor as he clutched her fingers. With a quick squeeze, he said, “I’ve never received more thoughtful gifts.”

  With that he was gone.

  “Weel, that was a sight, was it not?” Alice said. “Nessa, ‘tis more beneath the tree.”

  After the others had enjoyed enough mulled wine and sought their chambers, Vivian sat before the windows of the great hall and stared out into the darkness. Nary a star or the moon shone through the heavy clouds and drizzling ice.

  “Vivian?”

  She turned at the sound of Galen’s voice. He’d taken off his doublet and untucked his shirt. Coupled with his dark good looks, he was rakishly handsome.

  In his large hands, he held a package. “I wanted to give this to you—in private.”

  She smiled, touched he had thought of her. She accepted it and tore the wrappings off. As she lifted the lid of the box, she gasped. Nestled in emerald satin was a locket with a bird on the lid.

  “I found it my mother’s jewels.”

  Tears rose and fell from her lashes. “It’s the most beautiful locket I’ve ever seen.”

  She lifted up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

  “You can do better than that, lass.” He turned his head and captured her lips. Heat seared through her, setting fire to her body. Wine and the intensity of his kiss made her heady.

  Galen pulled back. She read the passion lying close to the surface in his darkening eyes. He took her hand and began kissing her palm.

  “Galen?”

  “Just once more, Vivian,” he whispered between nips and kisses. “’Twill last me a lifetime.”

  No, she thought, she’d never get enough of him to last a lifetime. She vowed to ensure Galen felt the same.

  He scooped her into his arms and carried her through the corridors to his chamber. He kicked open the door, then nudged it closed with his elbow. Never did he stop searching her face.

  It tortured him, to have her in his arms and not be able to take her at that instant.

  As Galen set her on his sprawling bed, she seemed slight in comparison. Her lips gave the impression of being jewels, red and glistening. He leaned forward and sucked on the fullness of her bottom lip. She groaned and tugged him atop her. He chuckled at her eagerness. It pleased him greatly. Aroused him even more.

  Desire ruled their actions as they rid each other of clothing. Under the candlelight, her skin seemed as pale as ivory and just as smooth. He caressed her, enthralled with the tiny moans that escaped her. He wanted to devour her, savor her innocence and beauty until the day he died.

  “Please, please don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  He entered her and they both cried out. The union of their bodies was so fulfilling and perfect. With each raking thrust, she writhed more, until finally he lost himself in her.

  As she snuggled into his arms, Galen’s heart filled with dread. He shouldn’t have asked her for this last moment of bliss.

  It wo
uld never be enough.

  Chapter 32

  “Are you ready?” Madame breezed into the chamber, blue silk and bustle swishing with each efficient step.

  Donal felt the blood drain from his face. “Aye,” he lied.

  She nodded, but something in her cold eyes told him all was not right. “Burke, do you really need to accompany me to Mac Tìre?”

  He pulled up and braced for a fight. “You have no idea what the books look like.”

  She busied herself with adding clothing to her valise. Since she changed twice a day, her wardrobe proved plentiful. “I’m sure I could manage.”

  “I’ll not stay here.” He shook with anger, indignation. How dare she try to cut him out?

  She cast him a condescending glance. “Make sure all the ingredients are ready for our return.”

  Donal cringed. Mayhap the innkeeper could secure the items he consumed with his trials. He shook his head at his own stupidity. What would an innkeeper ken of alchemy, much less magnesium?

  “Tell me.”

  Donal braced himself for heated demands, not the controlled, antagonism in her voice.

  “I need more supplies,” he admitted.

  She paced over to him and jabbed a sharp finger into his chest. “What did you do with what I’ve already purchased?”

  The ugly sneer across her face voided all beauty and he saw only a bitter, aging woman.

  “I needed to prepare. In order to do that, I needed to experiment several times.” His patience disappeared as she continued to pin him with a steely gaze. Her eyes burned into him.

  Then Madame pulled up and all nastiness vanished. “Give me a list.” She smoothed her sleeves as if they wrinkled out of mere inconvenience. “As long as I don’t have to chant nonsense, I’ll comply.”

  He kenned she’d never understand the importance of body as well as elements of the earth when dealing with alchemy.

  She flashed a stunning smile and left for afternoon tea.

  Donal worried for her sanity. More, he was troubled over his own safety. Her moods shifted with the wind and became more erratic by the day.

  She was in a rush, no matter how she tried to hide it from him. Nay, Donal thought, Madame wouldn’t allow for him to be privy to her private thoughts or plans. In fact, he was lucky she’d shared the information about the voyage to the island.

  Fear edged its prickly head into his mind. Madame wasn’t to be trusted.

  No doubt, she planned to be rid of him.

  Chapter 33

  Vivian leaned back against Galen. His chest hair felt like a thin fur, warm and protective. He groaned and tightened his embrace. She felt his manhood rise and marveled at the strength of his desire.

  She rolled over to face him, finding more comfort with her breasts tight against him. His hand lazily caressed her back. She felt each finger as it left a heated trail.

  “You must leave.”

  She tapped his nose with the tip of her finger. “Aye, you’ve said so before.”

  He released her and sat up. The sheer physicality of him left her breathless and wanting. She touched the ripple of his arm muscles, slowly dragging her finger along their ridges. His shudder made her smile.

  “I’ve ruined you,” he scowled.

  Vivian sighed. “Galen, I’m a grown woman with a mind of my own.”

  “I took advantage,” he insisted.

  She rolled her eyes. “If I remember correctly, ‘twas I who approached you.”

  He climbed out of bed and tugged on his breeches, his shoulder taut with tension. “I’ve done this to you. I should have controlled myself. I’m no better than my father.”

  Enough! “Oh, Galen. You’re not your father. He was a vile man.” She watched him pace the room with languid strides. She was certain she heard him growling. “And, you didn’t ruin me. I was ruined long before I stepped foot on this island.”

  He turned sharply toward her. Anger tight on his face.

  “Aye, Galen. My betrothed, that man you strive to send me back to, stole my innocence.” Tears quaked in her voice as she severed their visual connection. She couldn’t witness the shame in Galen’s eyes.

  He sat next to her, gathered her in his arms. “Och, lass. We’ve a mess. ‘Tis sorry I am that your betrothed was not an honorable man. That he forced—”

  She shook her head as tears tread down her face. Her humiliation was bold and painful. “He—he didn’t truly force me, Galen. I didn’t ken what he was about and when all was over, he left and never returned.”

  Galen tensed as he kissed the top of her head. “I promise, Vivian. If I ever encounter him, he’ll not live to tell about it.”

  His devotion warmed her heart—lessened the pain a wee bit. “Och, Galen,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “That would make you no better than him. He is of no matter.” And she kenned she’d never lay eyes on Donal Burke again.

  “A man like that needs to be dealt with.” Galen tipped up her chin and gently kissed her lips. “You deserve better, Vivian. You deserve the best and I’m Alexander Maclean’s son—‘tis no greater bastard to be found.”

  “Nay, Galen,” she said as she sunk into his embrace. “You’re not your father. You are kind and loyal.”

  “You ken nothing of it,” he said with a growl.

  “Then tell me,” she begged.

  He stopped and inspected her. His eyes were like sapphires, hard and cold.

  She deserved to ken. He’d treated her shamelessly and he owed her the truth. Ultimately, he wanted her furious. So much so, her eyes, now brimming with emotion and longing, would fill with hate. It would make it less painful when he sent her away. Far from Lomarcan. The mere thought made him sick.

  “I’ll tell you, but it changes nothing. You must still leave.”

  Something fluttered across her face. Defiance maybe? His little dove had become a woman, he thought ruefully. And she’d be the one to pay when she returned to the mainland.

  He turned toward her, raked his hand through his hair. Where did he start? “My father never, ever, treated me with anything but disdain. He ruled this castle with terror. Alice is the only one who stood up to him. She’s been my saving grace.”

  She nodded. “I can tell you have a dear relationship.”

  Aye, he thought, her love and admiration was the only kindness he’d ever known. “She’s been there for me. Always.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to Vivian. “I’ve read part of my mother’s journal. I. . .I think I understand why she acted the way she did.”

  When he paused, she looked directly at him. Her steady gaze encouraged him, supported him.

  “Alice also told me he loved her so much, he tried to possess her and, in the end, his love became hatred.” He clutched her hand. “He snuffed the life from her. When she couldn’t bear my father any longer, she killed herself.”

  Sympathy welled in Vivian’s eyes. She reached for him, but he remained out of her grasp. “Oh, Galen. I’m so sorry. You ken she loved you.”

  He accepted her pity and he wished to kiss away the tears in her voice. “Aye. She just wasn’t strong enough for him. My mother wrote of when she snuck into the nursery and rocked me asleep. She found and used the passages.”

  Restless, he rose and began to pace. What was he feeling? Relief? Anguish? Mostly frustration. Vivian sat so patiently. She looked like the lady of the castle. Even wrapped in a sheet, she was stately and poised.

  “After my mother died,” he continued, “my father delved into alchemy with new fervor. He forced me to be his errand boy, constantly assisting in the library any time of day or night. I was young, but I still kenned what obsessed him was bad—evil.”

  Surprise raised her brow. “Why do you continue to practice alchemy?”

  He started at the sound of her voice. He shrugged. “At first, I had no choice. Either I helped my father, or I didn’t eat. Then, I needed to find out what I had done wrong. Then curiosity, and the need to solve the mystery of my father’s death.�
��

  She came toward him and rested her hand on his arm. His taut muscles relaxed beneath her touch “Aye. We seem to keep pushing the thought of our fathers dying needlessly to the back of our minds. Regardless, why can’t you just see that you are not your father?”

  He looked down at her, her face hopeful, so lovely. She had brought new life to the castle, to him. He touched her chin, the skin smooth beneath his rough finger. “Years of habit, to be sure.”

  “Promise me,” she said. “Every day, look into the mirror and tell yourself you are worthy. You are not your father.”

  He chuckled and released her. “Nonsense.”

  “You must,” Vivian’s voice rose with conviction. “The more you hear it, the more you’ll believe it. Everyone else thinks it of you. Just open your eyes and see what they see.”

  He gathered her in his arms. “I see you. I see that you believe I’m good. It will just take me time to believe it.” He sighed and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair. “You bring out the best in me, my dove.”

  Galen eased a sprig of mistletoe from the table by his bed and held it over her head. “Look up.”

  She obliged him. “What are you doing?”

  He chuckled at the amused glint in her violet eyes. “Alice said if you kiss under the mistletoe, an ancient Druid will bless you. And,” he added sheepishly, “it was strangling the oak by the barn. I needed to remove it.”

  Her smile nudged happiness into his soul. Rising up, she kissed him, not once, but twice, until his reserve broke.

  Galen groaned as he consumed her mouth. He delved into her, drank in her goodness. He maneuvered her against the edge of his huge bed. A gentle nudge and she sprawled upon it, a wicked, wanton grin lit her face. He obliged her by removing the sheet she wore, revealing two plump breasts and a graceful, whittled waist. He trailed kisses down the valley between her breasts and over her smooth stomach. She moaned and pulled him up, greedily kissing him.