“Then I will not be afraid.” She shifted closer to the edge of the bed, waiting.
Hamish closed his eyes, breathed deep and let the wolf flow through his skin. For him and Alick the change was seamless, as though they were born to it. He dropped to all fours, his hands and fingers becoming paws and claws before he touched the ground. A muzzle elongated from his face and sharp canines dropped into his jaw as ears grew larger and thick fur covered his body.
A gasp came from the bed. Hamish froze, not even sure if he should breath. Aster said she would not be frightened, but he didn’t want to do anything to startle her. There was sufficient moonlight for his wolf gaze to see her easily. Her eyes were wide in wonder, not fear.
She moved to the very edge of the bed and leaned forward with one hand extended, but stopped inches from him. “Can I touch you?”
His wolf exhaled, the words were sweet to his ears. In answer he pressed into her hand, brushing his head against her palm.
A soft oh came from her as she moved toward him. Her hand ran over his head, then over his shoulder and back as her fingers twined in his fur.
He sat on his haunches and closed his eyes as, for the second time that night, she explored his form. Her naked body pressed into his side as she hugged him, inhaling his scent as he took in hers. Her hands caressed and tugged at his pelt. His wolf was enjoying the sensation of her fingers massaging through his fur far too much, and it was time to toss the coin and become the other side.
Need pounded through his body as Hamish shifted. He had shown Aster his wolf and she had embraced him. He swung her up into his arms as he rose from the floor.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
“No, entirely the opposite. And some things are best done in this form, not the other.” He placed her on the bed and covered her with his larger body and then he claimed her lips in a bruising kiss.
Hamish awoke as dawn crept through the window and tumbled over the floor. Aster was draped over his chest and Dougal snored from his basket by the range. With one hand he played with a strand of dark chocolate hair, waiting for her to stir but not wanting their night to be over. Contentment warred with other concerns in his mind. Once he knew she was safe, there were simple pleasures to be found in this cottage. What he wouldn’t give to spend a week tucked up here with her. There were so many things they could do.
His mind turned to the bath set in the rock outside. He’d like to fill it with hot water one moonlit night and have her wet body pressed close in the small tub. He swallowed a groan at the thought, and his body showed great enthusiasm for the idea. He wondered if technically their night was over, or if it would last as long as he kept her in bed. His body was most definitely not finished with her yet. He shifted his hips; perhaps if her thigh wasn’t stroking him, he might be able to think of other problems that needed to be sorted with the coming day.
Aster gave a languid stretch, raised her head, and then looked around the cottage. “It’s morning.”
“Yes.” He watched her, looking for any sign of remorse. Things done under cover of dark could look different in harsh daylight.
A sad smile touched her lips. She placed a single kiss on his chest and then sat up, dragging the bedding with her. “Our night is over.”
“And tonight there shall be another.” He let his wolf show through as he grinned. Silly woman, if she thought one night would ever be enough.
A frown pulled on her brow. “Do not feel obliged. I expect nothing of you, Hamish.”
“Good, because I have nothing to offer.”
She swallowed a soft sob and her gaze fell. Hamish kicked himself like a reluctant horse. He’d better keep talking before she completely misunderstood.
He grabbed a handful of sheet, hoping he could keep her from bolting. “There are men in the House of Lords who would strip me of all the rights of a man and throw me to the curb as a dog. If I can never inherit and never marry I have nothing to offer you, Aster.”
She lifted her head and a smile touched her lips. “If you offer yourself, then marriage and a title don’t matter to me.”
His hand tightened to a fist in the sheet and he used it to pull her closer. “I could not drag you to the gutter with me, Aster. To be cold or hungry.”
Laughter lit her extraordinary violet gaze. “You seem to be confusing me for a pampered noble girl. If I have you, that is all I desire. Besides, your wolf is considerably larger than Dougal, and should be far more efficient at keeping me warm at night. And if you can hunt, you will keep me better fed than Dougal’s offerings of rats. Or do you need Dougal to instruct your wolf in the art of ratting?”
“Ratting?” He barked in outrage and leapt for her. She squealed and squirmed as he kissed her soundly for disparaging his hunting skill. His heart soared; this woman would walk by his side no matter if he offered her an earldom or a spot under a tree. “You are an extraordinary woman, Aster Simmons. For you, it will be rabbits every night eaten under the stars.”
He planned to show her how much he appreciated her when a yap from beside the bed drew their attention. Dougal sat by the bed, his head cocked to one side and his tail making slow sweeps of the floor.
“He will want out,” Aster said.
Hamish glanced from woman to dog trying to decide which priority would win. At times he preferred to be a wolf; they had a simpler life view, but the man didn’t want to clean up puddles.
“Perhaps you could both go and chase seagulls?” Laughter bubbled from Aster.
Hamish growled and shot her a heated gaze. Wretched woman couldn’t go around comparing his noble wolf to a fat terrier with short legs. “I’ll let him out, then we have things to discuss. Like the appropriate respect to show a wolf.”
He rose and crossed the floor to let the terrier out for a run. On his way back, he paused to stare at the papers littering the table.
“Your decoded list of names is there,” she said.
In an instant, his wolf lay down quiet inside him. Here was something that needed to be finished before he could plan any future with Aster. Her life was in danger.
“Do you have any regrets about last night?” He had to ask. For all his noble intentions he had completely despoiled the woman, and no doubt ruined her for ordinary men forever.
Good. His wolf sniggered.
He picked up a sheet of paper from the very top. He glanced back to find her staring at him. By her heated look as she appraised his naked form in the morning light, he was pretty sure there were no regrets but he needed to hear the words. Sometimes a man’s ego was not as robust as it appeared. It would crush him to think she felt shamed by them sharing their physical love for one another.
“None, and I’m rather hoping we will do it again,” she whispered.
He returned to bed with the sheet in hand. He frowned as he read the seven names. He was surprised to see the Duke of Balcairn named, but it was another that leapt from the page and chilled his body.
“As much as I want to keep you here, I need to find the men who killed your father and I need to ensure you are safe, Aster. Especially if you’re going to be sleeping rough under hedgerows in the future.” How would he keep her safe from those who hunted her, if parliament took everything from him? He longed to hide her at the family estate in the Highlands; no one would breach the walls of their remote castle and harm her.
She moved to sit next to him and he pulled her close, needing her warmth against him. He tapped the paper. “Are you sure about these names? There can be no mistake?”
“Yes. Any other combination would have produced nonsense. There was a secondary layer to the code. I only discovered it yesterday because I stood by the window. It revealed itself when a shaft of light hit the page in a particular way.”
She really did have quite an extraordinary mind. “Callum Forge is on this list. He is a British agent who returned to England in pursuit of the list.” The unassuming man was a double agent and he had betrayed his country. He had even
given his pulse to the French and been turned into a vampyre. Hamish believed Forge’s hand killed Harry and tortured Sir John, although he would spare Aster the unpleasant details. “I believe he was the one who killed Sir John.”
She breathed in a sob and closed her eyes for a long moment. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight with her head nestled under his chin. “I also suspect him to be a vampyre. You wouldn’t happen to know how to defeat one, would you? My wolf wants to tear his throat out but I hear they can repair any injury.”
“Vervain,” she said the word on a long exhale. “It has long been believed to be a magical herb. We received a secret French report detailing that their vampyres fell ill and were gravely weakened for hours after ingesting it.”
Ill wasn’t good enough. He needed a permanent solution. “How do you kill one, Aster?”
She tapped a finger against his chest, as though the action helped her recall the mentioned dispatch. “Legend always says to stake a vampyre through the heart. But while that will inconvenience one, it will not kill him. For that you need to remove their liver. That organ filters their blood, allowing them to use the life force of others to sustain them. It also controls the regeneration that allows them to heal. Remove and burn the liver and the vampyre will likewise shrivel and die. The French experimented on their creations to discover what would end them and wrote quite graphic reports of their findings.”
Governments were alike then, regardless of nationality. Did someone compile reports of what would weaken and kill his men? “I sometimes think our government has a similar agenda with the Wolves.”
“Not that has crossed my desk.” She smiled weakly. “What do we do now?” she asked, looking up at him with wide violet eyes.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. His plan had changed somewhat, now that they knew the names of the conspirators. But there was one constant, and that was his need to make Aster safe. Names by themselves were not particularly helpful. It was like knowing the names of dancers about to walk out onto the floor, when what he needed to know was the tune and steps the dance master would dictate for them to follow. “We have the list, but we still have no inkling of the conspiracy. I’m going to ride to the village and hire a gig. We need to return to London and plan our next move.”
“The men who took Sir John will still be seeking the list.” She drew a shuddering breath and set her shoulders.
“Yes. But they will not reach you, I promise. You have a pack of wolves to guard you now, not just Dougal.” He took her hand and kissed her palm.
Her smile softened. “I know I am safe with you. You don’t know how desperately I wanted to run to you, but I couldn’t—”
Her gaze dropped to the list in his hand, he frowned.
“Did you think my name was on this list?” That very idea rankled his honour and the wolf raised its hackles at the thought he would betray his country. Even if his country would betray him. But he could understand her reluctance to seek him out. Sir John had taught her well. A double agent had played a part in murdering her father, but it wasn’t him.
She nudged against him. “You asked so many impertinent questions about me. Once I caught you trying to read the papers on my desk. I thought you might be working for France.”
He barked in laughter. “I thought the same of you. Why else would a woman be working in the Records Office?”
She arched a brow at him, as though the answer was obvious. “Because I was the most capable candidate for the position. Verify everything, Sir John would say. I could not come to you until I had seen the proof. What I thought could have been your name was actually that of Callum Forge.”
His mind was still processing just how incredible she was, that she had deciphered the code. The Earl of Bathurst was right about her being a most exceptional woman. “The Secretary of War said you were an accomplished cryptographer.”
“It would seem I didn’t just inherit Sir John’s eyes, but also that keenness of mind that lends itself to cyphers and puzzles. He taught me well.” A tear formed in the corner of her eye as she thought of her father.
He caught the drop and brushed his hand over her cheek. “We will find Forge and the other men responsible, Aster. I give you my oath, Sir John’s killers will be brought to justice.”
She nodded against his palm and then, as much as it stabbed a lance through his chest, he could linger no longer. He rose and picked his clothes from the floor, dressing quickly. “I will return in a couple of hours with more suitable transport. Can you be ready to leave by then?”
She scooted to the edge of the bed. “Yes. There is not much to tidy and pack away. And I will burn my workings.”
Words rumbled in his chest but he held them back, not wanting to overwhelm her. “Stay safe, Aster.” Then he leaned down and kissed her, a mere light taste of her lips, before he headed out to saddle up the gelding.
23
Aster
* * *
Lord, the sight of Hamish walking naked across the room stirred dark emotions within her. The light played over the muscles in his back, down to the tight curve of his buttocks above corded thighs. Her body ached, but it was a languid, heady feeling. She had no regrets. She had hours of delicious memories and hopefully more to come.
Grief lingered in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t indulge it at this time. They had too much to achieve first, like finding the men who ended her father’s life. Despair was an open wound but for now, it would be bound tight so she could do what needed to be done.
Seeing Hamish in wolf form hadn’t scared her. Rather the transformation was fascinating, with the way he flowed effortlessly from one shape to the other. Sharp teeth and claws didn’t terrify her, for they were the same features found on her beloved Dougal, just on a larger scale.
Hamish’s wolf possessed the same hazel eyes and staring into their depths, she could see the man within. His fur was the same hue and tint as his auburn hair. He would be near invisible when hunting in the Highlands amongst heather and forests. The creature had the same solid body as Hamish but she was unprepared for the sheer size of him and the luxurious feel of fur against her skin. She had never imagined it would be so soft, like strands of silk. One moment she was running wolf fur through her hands and the next the man had her in his arms.
Aster had offered herself freely to Hamish, without attachment or expectation. Her heart soared to find herself desired by a man and in the clear light of morning she understood her feelings for him. She laughed that his concern was that he had nothing to offer her. The Unnatural Act would soon go to the vote in parliament. The lords could decide the Highland Wolves and others like them were Englishmen with all the associated rights, or they could be cast down as vermin, to be hunted and reviled.
If he would have her, Aster would stand by Hamish no matter what form the legislation took. She wanted the man and the wolf, not the fripperies of his position. As sunlight crept further into the room, heat bloomed in her heart. There was much to live for. Now Aster needed to ensure she survived to enjoy all the days to come.
Aster dropped the sheet she had wrapped around herself in favour of her discarded shift and stays. Before putting on her dress, she washed in cold water—an action she regretted, for each pass of the washcloth took the scent of Hamish from her skin. Did his wolf senses notice such things? A shiver ran over her chilled flesh. Would he claim her again tonight and mark her anew as his?
She finished dressing and placed her few belongings into her bag. Then she cleared the table of all the papers and fed them into the little range. One by one she watched the pages curl in the heat before they were painted brown and burst into flame. Every scrap of her workings was destroyed. She couldn’t leave anything, just in case. Only the original coded message and the decoded list (tucked into her stays) survived the cleansing fire.
She made the bed and fluffed a pillow, then she hugged it to her and inhaled his scent. Then she sneezed. He really did need a bath after his long r
ide to find her. What would it be like to spend every night in his arms? Exhausting, she imagined, but also exhilarating. That led her to pondering life with a wolf. Would he shed? Dougal dropped hairs over her clothes and bedding; a wolf could make everything she owned fur-trimmed in short time. Would they need rules, like no wolf on the bed or no chewing bones on the rug?
As the morning progressed, Aster realised her feelings for Hamish had grown into more than affection. Like the cypher with its hidden tiers, only now did she reveal an unseen layer in her heart, and it was etched with his name. Events had perhaps accelerated the process. She was tired of her quiet existence, and wanted to grasp what life dangled in front of her. If she were to die tomorrow, she didn’t want regrets to cloud her last moments. She would not depart this earth wishing she had known his kiss or caresses. Now she became greedy and wanted more, but her heart ached to think there might not be a future for them.
She hugged the pillow to her chest. “What have I done?”
The pillow had no answer.
The choice she made was a simple one. Live.
Her heart still ached over the death of her father, and she would carry that grief with her for years. But it had not clouded her mind to the extent that she was unaware of what she gave to Hamish or what she might endure to live in exile with him. Enemy agents pursued the list, and that brought her to the edge of danger. Men had died for those seven names. There was a fragility to life, and what was given today could be snatched away tomorrow.
“No regrets,” she whispered, and laid the pillow back on the bed. She had no regrets, and her conscience was clear. She would stick to her course.
By the time the gig and pair appeared along the ridge, she had cleaned, tidied, and put everything away. The cottage door was locked and the iron key hidden under its stone. She sat on the bench with Dougal lounging at her feet, chewing a stick he’d found on the beach. He seemed to have a particular weakness for sticks, especially if he thought someone might throw one. A streak of mischief raced through her mind—would wolf Hamish also chase a thrown stick?
Secrets to Reveal Page 22
