Layers to Peel

by Tilly Wallace

  From the quick glance she took, she recognised the two men as the old gamekeeper and his young apprentice. No doubt doing their regular route through the estate's grounds. Twigs cracked and foliage shook, moments before a grey hound pushed its head through the ferns and stared at them.

  Wolf and hound locked gazes. Neither moved and Isabel found she was holding her breath. Would the dog give away their hiding spot? Then the hound broke eye contact first and looked down. The wolf snuffled at the dog, and Isabel had the distinct impression Alick was saying, good boy. The dog's tail gave a lazy wag at the unspoken praise.

  "Off you go," Isabel whispered.

  The dog bounded over a shrub and ran back to his master. The voices retreated in the distance but Isabel stayed hidden. The wolf stretched and cocked its head, listening to their retreat. One ear swivelled and focused on the direction the gamekeeper took. After a few moments, the wolf nudged her arm and emerged from under the branches.

  They continued walking through the forest, the wolf taking the leading edge, its nose constantly scenting the air. The sun rose and tried to reach through the canopy as shafts danced back and forth with the sway of branches. After some time, the wolf froze, its long body rigid with even its tail held parallel to the ground. It lifted one paw as all its attention fixed on a spot ahead of them.

  Isabel crept closer and followed the direction that its body pointed in. There in a small clearing grazed a deer, its body poised for flight as it nibbled at tender shoots among the fallen leaves. The large ears twitched back and forth, ever alert for any sign of a predator, yet it missed the great hulking one staring at it.

  Isabel picked an arrow from the quiver and notched it to the string and drew it back. She let her breathing slow. There was no hurry; they had all the time in the world. She watched the deer and let her body mimic its grazing with tiny movements back and forth as she waited for a clear shot. This was no wooden rabbit, and while part of her knew they planned to kill the graceful animal, she didn't want it to suffer.

  Then, as if it scented their intent on the air, it lifted its head and arched its neck to one side. Fate presented her shot. On her exhale, Isabel released the arrow. It flew silently, its progress only a breath of wind, and then it struck. The sharp metal head embedded deep in the animal's neck. It startled and ran a few feet ahead as blood trickled from the wound and down its shoulder. Then the animal paused, as though uncertain what had happened.

  In one fluid movement Alick shifted beside her, grabbed the knife from her boot, and then pounced from the trees. He grabbed the deer's head as its front feet buckled. His hand holding the blade rose and fell. A sigh whispered through the trees and he cradled the deer's head as its body slumped and rolled. A sharp metallic taint hit her nostrils as a gush of the deer's blood soaked into the leaves of the forest floor.

  "Did my shot not kill it?" she asked as she stood at his shoulder. The animal drew a breath inward and a shudder ran over its hide, but the creature never exhaled.

  "It would have, but we don't want it running panicked through the trees. It's quicker and kinder this way." In an odd gesture, he ran a hand down its face and closed the blank staring eyes, then laid a hand on the velvety head. He muttered something in Gaelic under his breath.

  "What are you saying?" It sounded beautiful and haunting, and a chill ran over her skin.

  His gaze flicked from her to the still animal. "Thanking the old gods for providing for us."

  "Oh." Somehow that seemed right. The deer had given its life to feed them; it should be thanked for its sacrifice. "Did you not prefer to finish it as a wolf though? Why shift at the end?"

  He stood and tightened the tartan around his waist, a smear of blood from the deer like a hand print on his chest. A blooded, almost naked savage and Isabel couldn't drink enough of the sight of him. Her blood heated anew at each flex of muscle under his skin. How did she ever imagine that she needed a powdered noble when life gave her a Highland wolf?

  Alick cleaned the blade and slipped it back down the side of her boot. "The wolf is a messy bugger, and teeth are not as clean as a blade. Neither you nor the deer needed to see him rip its throat out."

  "Oh." She hadn't thought of that. The idea did seem rather primitive.

  She slipped the bow back over her shoulder as Alick placed one hand under the deer's chest and, with his other, grabbed its hind legs. He swung it up and over his head, settling it on his shoulders.

  They retrieved the horse and Alick slung the deer over the saddle. He quickly swapped the piece of fabric for his breeches, shirt, and boots and then they walked back to the lodge. Alick fetched a length of rope and slung it over a large branch of an old oak standing behind the stables. The other end of rope was wrapped around the deer's hind feet and then he hoisted it up in the air. Tying off the rope around the tree trunk, he made the animal ready for the next step of its journey from living creature to meal.

  Isabel fought the queasy feeling in her stomach. Meals were much easier when they didn't look like gentle creatures. "Do we need a whole deer?"

  "No." He pointed to parts of the deer as he spoke. "The skin will go to the local tanner. We will keep a large haunch for us to cook tonight. The rest will be butchered and divided among a handful of families who are struggling to feed their children."

  She wanted to ask who but bit back the words, realising how ignorant they would make her seem. She had no idea who in the local village was in desperate need or which families had growing children and needed to fill bellies. She didn't know; she couldn't even conjure faces, yet this man knew.

  How self-involved the old Lady Isabel Grayson had been, that she didn't even know her father's tenants or the local villagers. Mrs. Ferguson was more aware of those around her. She would have a care for those less fortunate; she would be the sort of woman who helped those in need. "I'd like to do that, to visit the families with you and deliver the parcels."

  19

  Alick

  * * *

  Hunting in his wolf form with Isabel and sharing the intimacy of the kill soothed the beast in Alick. Deep in his gut, the wolf settled down, content to doze in the sun and dream of a future with its mate. He had assumed Isabel would disappear once he began butchering the deer. He was wrong. She kept him company and asked questions about what he was doing. She constantly surprised him. Now that she started to let down her defences she displayed a thirst for knowledge about the practical side of life.

  No part of the animal would be wasted. Everything served a purpose. From the hide that would be stretched to make a pair of boots, to the internal organs that would be served as sweetmeats or to flavour a pie. Even the bones would go to the dogs, to give them something to chew.

  When he finished the work he stripped off his shirt, washed, and put on clean clothes that Isabel had fetched for him. She was silent as they tacked up two horses to ride their rounds. So was Alick, as he debated whether or not to ask what was on her mind. The frown between her brows indicated she was thinking hard about something, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know what. So far, the day had gone remarkably well, and some sixth sense warned him that asking a woman for her innermost thoughts might ruin a pleasant outing.

  "You're awfully quiet." That was as close as he could get to asking about her troubles. He swung up into the saddle and waited while she did the same and found the opposite stirrup.

  She glanced around at the surrounding forest and the packed earth lane before them. "I grew up here and know the staff on the estate but find I know so little about the people who live beyond the gate. I don't know any of the families we are to visit, and yet I should."

  Alick nudged his gelding and they headed off at a slow walk. "You're doing something about it today. It's up to you if you tell them you are Lady Isabel or not."

  Would she? He had assumed the villagers would all know the infamous Lady Isabel, but perhaps they knew only her reputation and not her face. He was curious to see how she identified herself to them.
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br />   The first house they visited lay not too far from the lodge, on the road to the village. Made of grey stone with a thatched roof, the front garden was a riot of spring colour. To one side a field was tilled and planted with a variety of vegetables. Children yelled and chattered as they went about their chores. Chickens scratched the earth and searched for worms but disappeared with squawks and lost feathers as dogs rushed out, yapping at the visitors.

  Alick dipped into the sack tied to one side of his saddle and tossed out a bone to each hungry canine.

  Isabel dismounted slowly, as though taking stock of both surroundings and inhabitants.

  Alick took the wrapped venison and held it out to her. "Do you want to hand it over or shall I?"

  A hesitant smile crossed her face. "I need to do this."

  Drawn by the commotion, the children ran from the field to see the strangers. The door to the cottage was flung open and a woman emerged. She may have been no older than Isabel, but life had prematurely lined her face and thrown streaks of grey through her hair. She tucked a wayward strand behind her ear and gathered the youngest child to her side.

  "May I help you?" She bobbed a tiny curtsey, her movement prompting the children around her to remember their manners, and they all nodded in turn like seed heads dipping in the wind.

  "We have come to offer you something," Alick said. "I am Alick Ferguson. We are staying in the lodge and happened to go hunting this morning. We now find ourselves with an excess of venison and wondered if you would be so good as to take some from us."

  He held his breath as Isabel stepped forward with the parcel in her hands. She held it out to a boy of perhaps ten years old. He extended his hands, covered in dirt from his work in the field.

  "Toby, your hands are filthy. Don't you touch the lady," his mother said.

  The boy dropped his hands back to his side and hung his head with a shamed look.

  Isabel reached out and picked up one grubby hand. "I'm not averse to a little dirt myself. I happen to throw a very fine mud ball."

  With a wink to the child, she placed the parcel in his arms. He spun around to show his mother, pulling back the paper to reveal the large haunch of meat, and all the children emitted an oh of wonder.

  The woman wiped a tear from one eye with the corner of her apron. "Thank you both. This will feed my hungry boys all week. Do take some of our eggs in exchange, my lady."

  A tiny snort escaped from Isabel. "Mrs. Ferguson, please. I am no lady, but we would be delighted to trade for eggs. Could I help gather them?"

  A rare warmth spread through Alick as he chatted with the overworked mother while they watched a raucous game erupt. One child fetched a basket and then they all took off, running around the small property with a laughing Isabel on their heels. The group clambered to high places to find where the chickens like to hide to lay their eggs.

  By the time they returned to their horses, her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled.

  "Ready for the next house, Mrs. Ferguson?" he asked.

  She reached up on her tiptoes and placed a light kiss on his non-scarred cheek. "As long as it is a far enough ride to catch my breath. Those children are quite exhausting."

  He touched his cheek when she turned to her horse. The grin never left Isabel's face as they waved and rode away. Alick wore his own large grin, on the inside, where she wouldn't laugh at him for his good mood. Deep in his gut, the ember of hope burned a little hotter. Was this the way forward for him and his Izzy-Cat?

  In all they visited four families in dire need, dropping off parcels of venison to effusive thanks. The women kissed Isabel's cheek and she bent down to hug children. It was a side of her he had not glimpsed before. With each visit his confidence to introduce her as his wife grew, and the ember in his gut flared brighter.

  Dusk settled over the landscape by the time they rode back to the lodge. They carried eggs and cheese offered up in exchange for the venison. Another surprise awaited Alick in the kitchen when Isabel washed her hands and then asked what task she could do to assist the other women with dinner.

  As they ate around the table, soldier and woman alike planned their next move. Alick ensured Isabel would have the lead role in searching her father's study, while making sure she stayed safe. He suspected this would be a knife-edge he would have to walk if he wanted a life with this extraordinary woman. She would never be content to stay behind a man, preferring to fight at his side.

  They played cards until the carriage clock chimed midnight. Then Isabel fetched the gelding's bridle while Alick stuffed clothing into the saddlebags. By the time she was ready, two large wolves sat by the horse. Hamish would accompany them to act as lookout. If they were discovered within the mansion they would be reliant on Isabel's wits to extract them from trouble.

  They were an odd procession, the two wolves silent and only the horse's hooves making any sound. Overhead was a cloudless sky with a faint silver wash from the moon. Night creatures in the forest fell silent as they passed, perhaps not wanting to draw the attention of the two predators. Isabel kept glancing from one to the other, as though comparing the two beasts.

  Although of a similar size, the hue of their auburn fur set them apart, even if you didn't see the scar across the face of one. Alick was redder whereas Hamish more chestnut. In wolf form, Alick seemed slightly more muscled whereas Hamish was leaner. In a myriad of other ways their human characteristics were carried through to the animals.

  Isabel drew the horse to a halt within the tree line and at the edge of the sweep of lawn that led to the driveway at the front of the house. She dismounted and pulled out Alick' clothes, handing them to the naked man at her back. Hamish stood to the other side of the horse, his hand patting its neck.

  They watched the silent mansion. Only a tiny flicker of yellow passed behind a window, as though a lone servant carried a candle on their way to bed.

  "They will all be abed," Isabel said. "The dogs are out at night and the watchman will be slumbering. He relies on them to alert him to anyone about."

  Hamish huffed a silent laugh and glanced at Alick.

  "I doubt the dogs will bother us. Even if they are not afraid of me, they are respectful of Isabel." He couldn't keep the grin from his tone. Each day revealed another aspect to his amazing and resourceful wife.

  Isabel pointed to a tall window on the lower left. "That's Father's study, fourth window from the left. The window is locked, as will be the door. But there, next to it, is the duchess' study. There is a connecting door between the two studies." Her hand moved through the air and to the left, to point to a slightly smaller window. "That window will be locked, but the latch is somewhat damaged, unfortunately."

  Alick snorted. He had a good idea how the lock on that window had become damaged. The estate had more escape routes than a sieve. No wonder the duke gave up trying to rein in his daughter.

  "No longer than an hour. I don't want to risk discovery." Hamish took hold of the reins for the horse and walked it toward a tree. He would hitch the animal and then prowl in his wolf form, using the creature's enhanced senses to look out for danger.

  Alick nodded and, taking Isabel's hand, they ran along the lawn, keeping low and sticking to the shadows cast by the hedges. In his pocket he carried a tinderbox, to light a candle once they were safe in the duke's domain, but they had to make it there first.

  As they approached the stone building, a low growl sounded from the bushes. Alick's initial instinct was to growl back, but a dogfight could quickly escalate and attract unwanted attention. Instead, he turned to Isabel; if she knew the dog then all would be fine. If it turned out to be hostile then it could deal with his furry mass.

  She leaned down and rubbed her fingers together.

  "Come on, boy." She seemed to talk to a shadow, but it detached from the shrub and formed a tall hound that loped toward her, head down. She scratched the dog's head and passed it a bone from the deer. The long tail wagged back and forth and then the dog disappeared back to its
spot, to wait for the next night-time visitor while it chewed its treat.

  Alick drew the blade he kept on the back of his belt and stepped up to the window. Placing the edge under the wood, he prised upward, hoping his Izzy-Cat was right about the damaged latch. He didn't want to break a good knife trying to chip into the house. Sure enough the catch dangled, useless, as though someone had unscrewed the lock and left it in place, so to a casual glance it looked as if it still functioned.

  The wood gave a faint squeak of protest and he froze. At least the dogs knew Isabel and wouldn't come sniffing around, but they didn't want to wake anyone inside. He levered again and the window moved an inch. It was enough that he could wedge his fingers between window and frame and ease it open further.

  "Ladies first," he said with a grin.

  She hopped up and through the window. Alick sighed. He was starting to enjoy married life and, truth be told, he just wanted to watch her breeches-clad arse climb in first. He had to grab his own hand before he succumbed to the urge to slap her posterior as it wiggled before disappearing inside.

  Inside the small study the air was musty, as though it was rare for a person to pass through and disturb the dust. The ornately carved desk sat empty. There were no scattered papers, half-read books lying open, or any evidence of occupation.

  "Even when Mother was alive she never came here. It has sat unused for over twenty years," Isabel said. With one hand she stroked the leather of the desk pad. "It is dusted once a week and then locked up again."

  Alick pitied the poor house staff. Rooms that no one ever used, that still had to be aired and dusted and then closed up again. What a pointless routine. It made more work for the staff even though there was no duchess to use the study.