Eventually Sarah waved her apron at him and shooed him outside. With little to do to occupy his time, he sat with his back to the lodge and counted all the ways he proved himself to be an idiot. Like making calf eyes at a woman who couldn't tolerate him. And yet those moments when her anger rose and slipped into passion gave him hope. Surely it meant something, when she trusted him enough to let go under his touch? Or would she go willingly to a more worthy husband?
The sun climbed in the sky and warmed the stone behind his shoulders. With one finger he angled his hat to keep the sun from his eyes and he drifted in a haze inside his mind, turning his puzzle over and over, trying to find the solution.
Alick might give the appearance of a dog slumbering in the sun, but it was deceptive. The light crunch under a soft sole brought him to complete attention. He cracked one eye open as Aster approached, her geometric-design parasol over one shoulder. She bee-lined for him and took a seat on the bench at his side as she folded her parasol. Then she just sat and didn't say a word, letting the silence stretch between them until he blew a deep sigh, and then leaned forward on his thighs.
"I don't know what to do, Aster. I have ruined her life, I fear."
She reached out and took his large hand. "I doubt that. Your motives were always genuine. You sought to protect her when events crash upon her family."
He laid his hand over hers, and marvelled at how small hers was by comparison, as though he held a delicate ladybug between his palms. "My wolf names her as its mate and she will not even look at me."
There was the truth he couldn't tell the others. Inside, his wolf's soul broke that his mate turned away from him.
Aster leaned closer to him. "Oh, Alick. I did not realise. When did you know?"
That at least was one question he could answer. "When I duelled her. As soon as I licked the tiny scratch it hit me like a thunderbolt. I want her so bad and it's killing me inside, Aster. What do I do?"
"You need to trust the creature inside you. As much as I know it hurts, it just means you are going to have a harder journey than Quinn or Hamish to win your mate's heart. Isabel is much feistier than me." Aster nudged him even as she made gentle fun of her own steady temperament.
Alick blew out another sigh. Part of him was relieved that Aster knew and he desperately needed her counsel. "But I cannot reach her, nor do I even know how. I think it would be better to set her free, before we are both miserable. I suspect she dreams of having her pretty fripperies back." Or worse, did she lie in his arms and dream of another? Why did she seem surprised on seeing him this morning, when she had slept by his side all night?
"I disagree," Aster said.
The words were spoken with such conviction that he raised his gaze to hers and frowned. He arched one brow and waited for the young woman to explain.
Aster leaned against him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Isabel is a woman who has fought her entire life against the restrictions that her position has placed on her. She has raged at the bars containing her and, finally, she has escaped. For the first time in her life, she is truly free."
"Exactly, and she wants free of me." He tried, he really was trying. There was something about the woman that drew him. She was spirited, smart, and feisty, but at the same time he sensed a fragility within his Izzy-Cat and he was lost how to help her.
Aster freed her hand to pat his large knee. "I think Isabel merely misses the predictability. In her previous life, she knew exactly what each day would bring and what was expected of her. Freedom can be overwhelming if you are not used to it. I don't think she wants free of you, I think she simply does not know in which direction to take her first steps."
Alick rubbed his chin, mulling over Aster's words. They rang true. Isabel was like an animal kept confined that, when released, runs back to its cage, unable to face the vast expanse of field before it.
Aster squeezed his hand. "Forget her past and help her find her future. Deep inside, you and your wolf know exactly what she yearns for. Help her find it."
An idea formed in his head and he looked up to meet Aster's warm violet gaze. "You are an uncommonly intelligent woman, Aster. If Hamish had not wed you, I would prostrate myself at your feet."
She gave a shy laugh; Aster was uncomfortable with flattery. "I doubt that very much. We both know you would much rather be on your feet and fighting. Isabel is the perfect match for you. Remember Ianthe's vision of the wolf and panther forming a never ending circle as they fought one another."
He leaned back and laughed. Oh, yes. There was something about a woman holding a knife at his ribs that made his blood pound hot and fast. Isabel and he were similar in that regard; passion and fury were two sides of the same coin. They would flow from one to the other like the previous night. Was that what Ianthe's vision meant?
He leaned over and kissed Aster's cheek. "Thank you."
She reclaimed her parasol and left him to his thoughts. An hour later he rose with a tiny ember of hope burning in his gut, and he went in search of his Izzy-Cat. He found her down by the river, lying on her stomach, watching the water bubble and froth as it flowed past. He dropped on the grass next to her.
"What do you want?" She had a surly tone, like a child knowing they would be punished for a minor infraction.
"Your help, if you have some spare time." He kept his tone nonchalant and his gaze on the dancing water. He was too scared to look at her directly in case she saw the hope in his eyes and dashed it on the rocks below them.
"To do what?" Curiosity crept into her voice.
"We've already devoured most of the wild boar I caught and I was wondering if you had ever had venison over a spit. If we acquired a deer, we could have a grand night here with a bonfire, fine food, and good company." He still couldn't meet her gaze, and threw a rock into the water. It splashed and ripples drifted to the bank.
She pushed herself up and sat back on her knees. When he glanced sideways a frown drew her brows together. "Acquire one? Can't you just change forms and run one down like you did with the boar?"
"Oh, that boar was quite the opponent and it was more wrestling match than running race." Now he could look at her directly, and he grinned. He laid out his trap and he would catch more than one doe today. "But I was planning to poach a deer from your father's estate and thought you might like to join me."
Her gaze widened. "You're mad. You want to take me poaching?"
He shrugged. "Oh, aye. But if it sounds like too much for you, you can help the other women in the kitchens."
That narrowed her gaze. "Why do you want my help?"
One simple question, but it went so much deeper, like a rabbit's underground warren. He had rehearsed this in his head, practicing over and over what to say. Now the moment had come, he only hoped he didn't stuff it up. "You think your father has cast you down and made you a nobody, but you are wrong. He has set you free to be anybody. The world is laid out before you. Now, I don't know about you, but once this war with Bonaparte is over, I have a hankering to explore the world. You are my wife and whatever we do, we shall do it together. We could ride elephants in India, climb the pyramids in Egypt, or poach venison from your father. Just take my hand and let the adventure begin, Izzy-Cat."
He stood up and held out his hand to her. Would she take the first tentative step and accept his offer, or would she spurn him and laugh? A grip tightened around his chest as he waited for her answer. He could see the incredible woman she would bloom into, if she embraced all he could offer her. He could also see himself tumbling at her feet, and she had the power to trample his heart.
She closed her eyes and he swallowed, holding his breath as she considered his words. Then she opened her eyes, reached out, and laid her hand in his. He curled his fingers around hers and pulled her to her feet.
"Stop calling me Izzy-Cat. And I'll need breeches, and really a musket would attract the gamekeeper's attention. Do you have a bow?"
Hope squeezed his heart tight. The woman wanted
a bow. Could God have created a creature more perfect for him? This is what his wolf knew instinctively, and Aster was right. His Izzy-Cat would put up one hell of a fight but it would be worth it. Then the pressure in his chest increased and a cold chill washed over him. Was there really any hope that she could see something deep inside him, or was he just continuing to delude himself?
There was only one thing he could say. "Do you prefer a crossbow or long bow?"
18
Isabel
* * *
That morning, Isabel awoke to a delicious sense of peace with a lick of heat. She sighed and arched her neck as the pleasant feeling intensified. In her dream, the man lavishing attention on her held her close. Safe. All her deepest desires for safety, security, and attention were fulfilled in his arms. She pulled his head to her, opening her lips and parting her teeth to allow him access. Her tongue danced with his as pleasure sent ripples down her torso to spiral around her core. Her soft sigh turned to a moan. At which point she realised she wasn't dreaming but kissing a very real, very corporeal man.
She pulled back and stared into an eerie pale gaze. "Alick."
The dream haze still clouded her thoughts. Part of her wanted to press closer to him; another part wondered what on earth was happening and why he induced such lassitude in her limbs. Then the two parts of her set to arguing about it in her head. It was at that point that he rolled away, grabbed his clothes, and stormed out of the room.
It was only as the door closed on his retreating figure that she touched her lips. Never had a man made her feel the way he did. Never had she encountered a man powerful and implacable like a mountain and capable of weathering her temper. One who could hold her while she raged. One who displayed infinite patience as he stripped away her anger and replaced it with pleasure.
But he was far more than a man. A wolf dwelt inside him and the thought of the beast made her shiver. She recalled the night it had trapped her after she climbed out her window. The animal was another embodiment of Alick's raw power. She longed to see that creature again and to run her hand through its fur. What would it be like to hunt beside such a magnificent animal, or would Alick scowl if she suggested it?
She spent breakfast looking at anything except her husband. Her mind was a turbulent ocean besieged by a thunderstorm and nothing made sense. Ideas couldn't be contained within her skin and once again she thought she would burst. Grabbing a book of Aster's from the dresser, she announced she was going to sit by the river and practically ran out the door.
The book was tossed to the grass while she lay on her stomach and hoped the soothing babble of the stream would placate her unsettled mind. When she stood alone on the ballroom floor, foil in hand, she had wished for a man who was her equal. She imagined a tall, handsome, and incredibly rich noble. The fates sent a common soldier with an unnatural affliction, a scarred face, a brooding countenance, and a temper to rival her own.
Alick was nothing she had imagined or wanted, but could he be everything she needed and desired? Lying in his arms that morning she felt protected, safe, and at peace. And the sensation terrified her because she didn't understand what it meant. Even though her mind rebelled at the preposterous idea, she wondered—was she feeling the first stirrings of love?
Now he had the audacity to appear beside her with the outrageous idea of committing a crime. He even held out his hand and offered to take her poaching in her father's forest, as though it were an everyday occurrence to ask a gently-bred lady if she wanted to engage in an act of larceny. Except she wasn't that person any more.
Alick's words rattled in her brain. Her father had cast her down and allowed her the freedom to be whomever she wanted to be. Isabel had broken the glass that kept her prisoner and the small shards glinted at her feet. Was she brave enough to step through to this new world? Who would she be? She looked up at Alick's hard face and unnerving eyes. She would be the sort of woman who sought adventure, with a man beside her who was strong enough to ensure she never fell.
With a tentative smile on her face, she laid a hand in his large and rough one. "I will need trousers, and do you have a bow?"
They walked hand in hand back to the lodge. Isabel's stomach fizzed as though she were a girl of ten years, holding the hand of a boy she was madly infatuated with. What would the others say if they saw them?
Alick led her to the stables and climbed up the ladder to the hayloft.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"There are some clothes up here that might fit you," came his muffled reply.
She doubted it. Only the previous afternoon she had hid up here and she certainly didn't recollect seeing a wardrobe in one corner. As she emerged in the striated sunlight, she found Alick digging under one corner of the golden hay. With a cry of triumph, he pulled out a battered leather saddlebag.
He held it out to her, a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. "This should fit. I'll gather the bows while you change."
She waited until he dropped back to the floor below before she opened the bag. Within she found soft breeches, dark brown leather boots, and a linen shirt. The clothes fit her perfectly. They should have; they were hers. Blasted man kept on confounding her and making a warm gooey slush circulate around her heart. In the bottom of the bag she even found a strip of leather. Bundling her thick hair to one side, her fingers made short work of plaiting it out of the way and she bound the end with the leather.
Changed and ready to face her first adventure as Mrs. Ferguson, she found Alick saddling up his gelding. Two long bows were slung on one side and quivers full of arrows were strapped to the other.
As he finished preparations she asked the question foremost in her mind. "Why did you have my old clothes hidden in the hayloft?"
A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest as he buckled up the throat lash on the bridle. "Thought they might come in handy so I stole them from your room while you slept. How's your aim with the bow? We can set up a few practice shots while we look for deer tracks."
She smiled. "Ah, fortunately archery is an acceptable form of gentle exercise for young aristocratic women. I just prefer my targets smaller and farther away than the rest of them." Then encouraged by their new tentative friendship, she asked her next question. "Would you hunt with me as the wolf?"
He stared at her for so long she thought she must have insulted him. Just as she was about to recant the idea and make it out to be a jest, he replied.
"Aye, if that is what you would like. I'll shift when we leave the horse."
They spoke few words as they walked a distance into the forest and then tied the placid horse to a tree. Isabel found companionship in the silence. The large man didn't speak much and after years of vacuous society gossip, her mind found relief in the quiet. Before they set off deeper into the undergrowth, Alick pointed out a few different markers as targets for her to hit, but stopped suggesting them after she struck the third one dead centre.
He simply let out a low whistle and turned an admiring eye her way. "You're an uncommonly talented woman, Izzy-Cat."
"Stop calling me that." It was becoming rote to protest the nickname but she didn't mind it as much today, and she couldn't stop the grin on her face from his praise. Her father never noticed if she hit a target—she doubted he even knew that one summer she had littered their expansive lawn with tiny wooden rabbits to practice on.
Then Alick walked back to the horse and stripped off his clothing, folding it into a saddle bag. He pulled out the length of blue and green tartan and tied it around his waist before dropping to the ground.
His form shimmered for a moment, as though he dived into clear water. Then the wolf stood before her, the tartan about its middle.
Isabel simply stared at the creature, no longer something mythical and vaguely seen on a moonless night. This was flesh and blood like her. Shafts of sunlight lit the auburn of its fur.
"Can I touch you?" she asked with hand extended.
The wolf padded closer and bu
tted its head against her palm. Isabel ran her hand over its pelt. The fur was soft like silk and the coloration allowed it to blend in amongst the trees and undergrowth. Then she ran both hands up to cup its massive face. The scar ran down one side, just like on Alick. He peered out at her from pale eyes. For the first time, the ugly scar didn't bother her. Instead she saw it as a mark of his strength, that he could endure it.
Then mischief crept into her mind. "Shall we go hunting or do you want me to throw a stick?"
The wolf turned its head to one side and then reached out and licked her face. A surprisingly rough tongue left a trail of warm, wet saliva from her chin up to her hairline.
"Yuck!" She rubbed her face on her shirt sleeve. "I assume that was for the stick comment."
The creature gave a low yip that she took as a yes, and then trotted off into the trees. It paused and looked back to her. Waiting.
Joy raced through Isabel. This was what she wanted, to hunt with the wolf. She pushed Alick's dagger down inside her boot and slung the bow over her shoulder. "I'm coming."
Her father owned the land, the forest, and even the deer within and yet excitement burned through her body. She was poaching! They could be hanged if they were caught, or at least sent to gaol. Or would they just shoot the wolf and skin its pelt for overcoats? That made her pause as she pondered the technicalities—could she be found guilty of poaching when her father owned the estate, and what would happen to Alick who padded at her side? She concluded it didn't matter. Either way the illegal taint to the exercise made it all the more thrilling.
The sharp bark of a hound made them both freeze. The wolf caught her hand lightly in its large jaws and drew her toward low hanging undergrowth. They pushed underneath and Isabel crouched next to the wolf's furry haunches. With their backs pressed to a large tree, drooping branches concealed wolf and woman from sight. Voices rose and fell as men approached. Isabel's heart tightened in her chest. What if they were discovered? Her hypothetical question about poaching might be answered.
Layers to Peel Page 16
