by Nhys Glover
‘You would feel less pain if you gave up wearing this torturous undergarment. Such items of apparel are not meant for dozing on hard floors, outside dungeons, all night.’
She chuckled, and nodded her agreement. ‘You might be right. Maybe next month I will wear less support, and see what happens. Come on, enough discussion of my unmentionables. What would Queen Victoria think of such a conversation between two unmarried people? In fact, I would have to wonder if she would consider it a fitting topic for conversation, even for married couples. Can you imagine Albert asking about her stays?’
Byron grimaced as he opened the cellar door. ‘No. If tables must have their ‘limbs’ covered at all times, and the word ‘leg’ avoided in relation to even a piece of furniture, I cannot imagine corsets figured highly as a topic of discussion with her spouse. I sometimes wonder how they ever had children.’
‘Byron, that is going a little far. It is a moral outrage, even to think such thoughts.’
‘I imagine there are many men who have had such thoughts.’
‘She is the Queen, for goodness sake!’ Her mock horror made him chuckle.
‘And a starchy one at that. Does she wear a corset to bed, do you think? How would Albert ever find his way through all those garments?’
He was enjoying their game, and he laughed all the way down the stairs. His good mood even lasted until all the inmates were released, and they had gone back upstairs.
Then, thoughts of what he would find at the croft sobered him. He had made light of Bobby’s situation. The fact was, he’d been forced to manhandle the boy back into the small cottage, and had felt like the worst kind of fiend when the boy banged on the door in terror. He had been so afraid of being locked in with his wolf, not fully understanding that, had he been free to roam the moors, the wolf would still have been with him every step of the way.
Listening to the wolf tear the small dwelling apart had kept him awake all night. Over and over again, the beast had thrown itself against the door and walls, until the croft shuddered from the impact and dust fluttered down on him from the eaves. Had the building not been one of the older, sturdier constructs of weathered stone, the wolf would not have been contained. He was still worried that another night of continued assault might have weakened the door enough for it to be dislodged. He didn’t think it would happen, but he could not be sure. He had been forced to weigh up the situation. Where was he most needed? Back at the Keep where a helpless woman and inexperienced child stood guard over sixteen werewolves, or there with one wolf, imprisoned securely in an isolated dwelling.
If he had known Phil wasn’t quite as helpless as he’d imagined, nor Jamey so unprepared, he might have stayed. But he’d been too worried about them to remain. It was a lesson learned. Now he had to hope that his decision hadn’t led to dire ends. Though he was dead on his feet, he had to get out to the boy as soon as possible. And he needed Will with him, if he was going to be forced to coerce the lad into returning. Even a young werewolf was strong. It had taken all his strength to manhandle him back into the dwelling, and lock him in.
As soon as Will came back down stairs, he was ready with the three horses, and enough food to sustain the hungry wolves after a night of enforced captivity. And with a quick goodbye kiss, he left Phil to her porridge.
For the first half an hour of the ride, both men kept silent. Then, when Byron was sure that Will was back to himself, he raised the subject that had been eating at him since the night before.
‘She is a good woman. She does not deserve the treatment you mete out to her.’
Will shot him an angry glance, before turning back to the rough path they were following up the moor-side.
‘You’re too attached to her. That lassie will break your heart, man. And none of us can afford for that to happen.’ He paused before going on. The silence was pregnant with Byron’s angry, unspoken denial.
‘And you canna tell me no. I see it. We all see it. And even if you weather her leaving, the others are coming to love and rely on her, too. They willna handle the rejection, when it comes.’
‘It is not rejection to want to have a life away from the Keep! For god’s sake man, would you want her to willingly give up her chance for happiness, out of misplaced loyalty to us?’
‘No I wouldna. And I hold no enmity toward the lass. She’s bonnie and strong, and it’s sad that the Cap’n dinna bring her to us earlier, so he could see the lass he’d sired. But the truth of it is; she will go. She should go. But the more she wheedles her way into our hearts, the harder it’ll be when she does go. I’m tryin’ to protect us!’
‘And hurt her every time you do! She is not trying to wheedle her way into our hearts. She is being herself. Can you not see that every time she extends a hand to us, it is out of compassion and caring? She wants to help, for as long as she can. Because she cares. And I am worried she is starting to care too much. I do not want her to be forced into this life because she cares too much!’
‘Then keep her at a distance. Every time you kiss her, you bind her tighter to you. You will break her heart as surely as your own, if you donna keep her at a distance.’
‘Do you think I have not tried! I have been trying to keep her at arm’s length since the first night. But I cannot. All my resolve disappears as soon as I am with her. And it grows harder every day.’
‘Then stay away from her! You will bed her if you donna, and then you’ll hate yourself for it. You ken that already!’
‘How do I stay away? You have no idea what it is like. She is like… like the most intoxicating liquor to a drunkard. I have no control where she is concerned. I love her!’ Byron felt the tears of frustration and despair stinging his eyes. He would not give in to them.
‘Go to London for the next month. It is long overdue, anyway. You ken we need to form closer alliances with the constabulary, and those members of the parliament who ken of us. Unless we improve our standing with those organisations, there will be open season on all of us, if the public ever finds out werewolves are real. A month apart might cool your blood and hers, enough for you to be sensible.’
Byron considered Will’s advice. Although the idea of being separated from Phil for a whole month made his heart ache, he could see the sense in such a move. The truth was, the longer he remained close to her, the more likely it was that he would take her innocence. They had already come so far since that first virginal kiss that first morning.
Phil was a hot-blooded woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she didn’t realise what that meant. He did. Not only would her reputation be ruined, and her future husband’s rights usurped, but she might end up with child. In that case, he would marry her, and that was the last thing she needed. It was as good as a life prison sentence for her and their child.
For a moment, he indulged himself with the fantasy of fatherhood he’d never considered possible. Phil would be the perfect mother, and he would adore raising a child with her, and love it with all his heart. He was the last of his line, and it would be wonderful to know his blood lived on in his child.
But how could he even consider bringing a child into the world he inhabited? How could a child ever be safe surrounded by werewolves? All a child of his would inherit was pain and duty. What kind of life was that?
No, Will was the voice of his conscience. He knew he was right, and hated him for it. But, the more he considered his options, the more he realised the only rational thing for him to do was to stay as far away from her as he could, until she made the right choice, the only choice – to leave the Keep for ever.
‘I’m sorry, my friend. I ken what this means to you. If there was any way that we could survive without you, I would say go, be with your lassie. But, if you go, you may as well put a bullet in each of our heads. It would be the kindest and safest option.’
‘I know.’
By midmorning they had reached the desolate croft, and the sky was heavy with unshed rain. Will looked up and frowned, as he pulled
the collar of his shirt up higher on his neck.
‘We’ll be caught in this downpour. Jas said we would.’
‘There was not much choice. We could not leave the lad up here any longer, without food or water.’
‘No, we couldna. But I donna have to be happy aboot it.’
Byron gave a grimace that passed as a smile, as he watched his gruff friend grouse about the weather. He knew Will was of hardy stock, who had lived through far worse situations than a little rain. His complaints were no more than idle chatter.
When the croft was in sight, Byron breathed a sigh of relief. He had begun to convince himself that he would find the door missing, and their captive escaped. But he had worried for nothing. The building was as impregnable as ever.
Bobby must have heard the horses approaching, because he was banging on the door, yelling to be let out, the moment they brought their mounts up in front of the cottage.
‘Aye, well, you can give that a rest, young Bobby. We’ll get to letting you out when we’re ready,’ Will yelled out to him from the saddle. ‘The faster you behave, the faster it will happen.’
Bobby instantly ceased banging, and Byron felt relieved that the lad was so willing to co-operate. Yesterday he had been hysterical, and couldn’t be reasoned with. Maybe the lad would see sense now, after a second night stuck in the shambles his wolf had wrought.
But, both men were ready for anything, when they finally unbolted the door, and opened it. Luckily, their caution was unnecessary. Bobby stood on the other side of the door, a scrap of blanket wrapped around his waist, his body bleeding and bruised black and blue, and his shoulders drooped in defeat.
‘I don’t want this,’ he said sadly, his voice hoarse from screaming.
‘We ken that, laddie. None of us do. But you canna run away from it. This is your lot now. Best make what you can o’ it.’ Will put a hand on the youth’s bare shoulder.
‘I can’t believe it did all this,’ Bobby said, indicating the destruction around him.
‘Think how much worse it would ha’ been if you’d been loose. You’d ha’ mauled sheep, and maybe a lone shepherd, if he dinna shoot you first. The cells aren’t perfect, but they do the job.’
‘What happens to me now?’ Bobby took the clothes Byron handed to him, and began to dress. He seemed to become more settled the more layers of clothing he used to cover the evidence of his wolf’s abuse.
‘The good thing is that most of the bruising will be gone by tomorrow. The cuts soon after. Look at how well the claw marks healed up,’ Byron said, noticing the lad’s relief.
‘I’ll be stronger and healthier than I was?’
‘Aye, ye will. Ye’ll grow muscles too, which will please the lassies. It isna all bad being a big bad wolf.’ Will smiled as he said the last. Byron knew that his amusement came from the night Phil had started them making jokes at their own expense. He was pleased Will was keeping it up. It indicated a level of acceptance that hadn’t been there before.
Bobby returned Will’s smile with a tentative one of his own. ‘What do I do about this? My family will hate me when they see what I’ve done.’
‘We’ll get a team up here later today or tomorrow, and get it ship-shape again. Dinna fash yourself laddie, your family will never ken what happened here.’
‘And you’ll take me back with you?’
Byron couldn’t believe what a turnaround had occurred since yesterday. Instead of wanting to escape the Keep, now he wanted to be accepted there. It was a good sign. The most positive outcome of the last couple of days. He would need this small win if he was to keep his resolve concerning Phil, over the next month. It would be the longest period of his life.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Phil helped Charlotte gather roses for the vases, and enjoyed the small win that this had proven to be. Over the last lonely month, Charlotte had begun to warm to her, and offering to let her share some of the care of her beloved roses had been the greatest gift the young woman could offer her.
That she knew it was out of sympathy for her heart-ache, didn’t take anything from the gesture. In fact, it made it all the sweeter. Charlotte, for all her wild and rebellious ways, seemed to have a kind heart under it all.
And she wasn’t the only one who had shown such kindness to her over the endless month of her separation from Byron. Each of them, in their own way, had tried to soften the blow for her.
But there was no way the full impact of Byron’s rejection could be softened. When he had returned from the croft with Bobby, he had immediately packed his bags, and prepared to leave for London. If she hadn’t caught him as he headed for his horse, he would have left without telling her goodbye.
She didn’t know what she had done to deserve his rebuff, but she thought that Will was responsible. When she had challenged the man about it, Will had gruffly told her it was ‘for the best,’ and that she needed to start planning what she would do with her life, once she left the Keep. Since then, she hadn’t been able to be in the same room as him, so angry was she.
For several days after his departure she had taken to her bed, the grief draining her of all energy. That was when Charlotte had come to her, asking for her assistance in the rose garden. Nothing less would have made her leave her bed, she realised.
For several days after that, the residents had crept around her like she was an unexploded canon ball. And then, one by one they began to shower her with small gestures of regard. Jasper played his violin for her. Cook prepared her favourite chicken dumplings. Mary asked to brush her hair, and spent hours trying to stroke her into peace.
It didn’t work. The only thing that helped was burying herself the preparations for the party. It kept her mind occupied, and distracted her from her misery. But at night, when her eyes were too tired to write more invitations, or study the menu one more time, she went to bed to stare up at the ceiling for hours. When sleep came, it was always accompanied by nightmares, where she was chasing after Byron as he fled from her. Or she found herself in a wreck of a croft on the moors, alone and abandoned, crying so hard that when she awoke, her eyes were heavy with the unshed tears.
There were plenty of shed tears, too. During the day, when she least expected them. The others would kindly look the other way when it happened, so that her lack of control didn’t embarrass her more than it should.
She expected it to get easier over time. It didn’t. In fact, as the month drew to a close, and Byron’s return was imminent, her distress increased. It even crossed her mind that she should be gone when he returned. If she went to Harrogate for the full moon, then she could avoid him. The idea of seeing his distain was more than she could stand.
But it was her father’s spirit in her that kept her back straight as the day of his return drew closer. No matter how much she wanted to slink away like a dog with its tail between its legs, she wouldn’t give him that power. The Keep still belonged to her. It was her right to stay there as long as she chose. Byron would not be allowed to drive her away now, just as she hadn’t allowed him to drive her away that first night.
When she heard the cry go up that Byron was back, she felt her legs weaken under her, despite her resolve. Charlotte, noticing her reaction, came to her side, and held her up until she felt strong enough to stand on her own two feet again.
‘Do not let him know how much he hurt you, Phillie. Men are all bounders, and letting them know what pain they cause us only makes them worse.’ Charlotte patted her arm.
‘I will make sure I do not. Thank you, Charlotte. You have been very kind to me…’
‘Well, you turned out to not be the bitch I thought you were. If not for you, we would not be having this party. You make everyone happier than they were. That is something around here.’
‘I have not been making anyone happy for the last month. I cannot even make myself happy.’
‘Well, just do not show that bounder what he has caused you. That is all I have to say on the matter. And do not go in to greet him. S
tay here. If he wants to see you, he must come to you.’
It was the best advice she could have received. Although part of her wanted to dash inside, just to catch a glimpse of his handsome, beloved face, the other part wanted to put off seeing him again, not wanting to face the rejection she knew she would see there.
So she continued picking roses, and pruning back deadheads when she found them. But eventually she had gathered enough, and the sun was arcing toward the horizon. Supper would be served shortly, before the residents made their way down to the cells for sunset.
Should she stay up all night after she had collected the women’s clothes, or would that be too difficult with only Jamey as bulwark? Maybe she could make it through her part, and then go to her room. As long as she didn’t lock the door, it wouldn’t feel like she was cowering under the bed.
However, she was cowering. But it wasn’t from the werewolves. It was Byron she was cowering away from, and his heartless rejection. How could she have thought that he would never betray her? How could she have believed it would be him whose heart was broken, not hers? She had been so sure he loved her as much as she loved him. How could she have been so wrong?
She breathed a sigh of relief when she went into the morning room for her supper. Byron wasn’t there. Nor was Jasper and Will. Disappointed and yet relieved, she sat down next to Charlotte and Mary, and managed to force down her supper, even though each bite caught in her throat until she wanted to gag.
‘Be strong my dear. Men are such fools, sometimes. They do not know what is good for them. Even the intelligent ones like Byron,’ Ellen told her as she helped the old lady out of her night dress after supper.
‘I am well enough, Ellen dear. I do not plan to let him know the pain he has caused me. I have more pride than that.’
‘Good girl. You are your father’s daughter. I will see you in the morning. Take care of yourself.’
The compassionate looks the other women gave her as they handed over their clothes was almost too much to bear. They were all so kind to her. How could she have ever seen them as monsters? They had given her a place amongst them, a home as warm and loving as she remembered from her childhood, before her father went to war. She had thought that it was she who was needed here, not the other way around. But this last month had shown her differently. The Keep wasn’t her prison, it was her home. The residents here were not inmates, but her family and friends. And she loved them for it.
