“Let’s push things along. I loathe these evenings. Bring him out to the balcony shortly.” Forge took a sip from his champagne flute, but Hamish noted no liquid passed his lips. Shame really; it was quite a good drop, far better than the repurposed ale they’d both ignored at the tavern. He couldn’t imagine blood would be all that appetising. Even his wolf shrugged at the idea.
“I’ll approach him and meet you in fifteen minutes.” Hamish kept his gaze on Quinn, but his mind went to Aster. He could no longer see her in the assembly room, and his loyalties were tested. He couldn’t spare the time to search, but he needed to find her. He had to have eyes on her, to know she was safe with Forge so close.
Forge nodded and disappeared back into the crowd. Now all Hamish had to do was signal Quinn, arrange the meeting, and ensure Aster was safely out of the way. Once the list was handed off, his role would be over. Except that a tingle down his spine told him Forge would not leave any issues unresolved. He was a man who liked to tidy up loose ends, like a secretary who could talk.
Hamish glanced at his pocket watch and then at Ewan. “Tell Quinn to head out to the balcony at eleven.”
The lieutenant nodded and slipped through the dancers as Hamish’s gaze sought Aster. He watched other women prowl the room. The younger ones were excited and innocent. The older ones moved like predators, looking for their prey. They needed an offer before they were deemed on the shelf and forever relegated to sitting on the side.
His gaze caught Lady Merton. She moved like a wraith, clad in palest ivory. She was a graceful and handsome woman. Shame her interior was defective. She changed her course to collide with his. He had no desire to converse with the woman, but she was an unwavering arrow.
“Lord Logan.” She practically pushed another woman aside to reach him. “I have reserved this dance for you.”
Hamish didn’t have time for her. Not tonight or any night. His wolf growled at how she had shamed Aster. “Of course, Lady Merton. It would be a wonderful thing for all Unnaturals for you to dance with me. Soon we might not be allowed in such grand rooms as these, when we are stripped of all our rights and inheritances.”
She blinked. “Pardon? What do those horrid creatures have to do with us resuming our understanding, or with your inheritance?”
He reached for her hand. “I thought you knew? All the Wolves are Unnaturals. We are wolves wearing the skins of men, created by the army to fight the French.” He couldn’t help himself; he dropped his canines as he grinned at her and let fur sprout over the back of his hand. “It is expected that Parliament will declare we cannot inherit or marry. My chosen bride will live a low-class existence, but at least we will have each other and my wolf will keep her warm.”
She stared at his furry hand and snatched hers away before he pawed her. “You cannot inherit?”
Hamish practically smelt her hair burning as her mind worked overtime figuring out the social and financial ramifications. A cold look dropped over her face and the smile disappeared.
“Well, it has been lovely seeing you, Captain Logan, but I must return to my friends. I have so many noble suitors to dance with this evening.” She turned tail and practically ran to the other side of the room.
Hamish congratulated himself on ensuring she never bothered him again. There was only one woman he wanted to have in his grasp and she had disappeared into the night, his domain. He ducked through open doors and out to a wide balcony. From there a stair led down to a maze and ornamental shrubbery.
He strode out to the balustrade, leaned on the cool stone and drew a deep breath of cooling night air. He closed his eyes and let his wolf surface, to hunt for Aster. His head swung as he found her scent, then he headed for the shadows by the grey bricks of the building.
“Aster?” he called softly. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I just needed fresh air. It is a bit too rarefied in there for me.” She wiped the back of her hand over her cheek before turning to look at him.
“My star,” he whispered on catching the faint glimmer of tears then he pulled her into his arms. “What has happened?” He wanted to search her gaze, but didn’t want to release her from his grip. He tilted her face to his. Sadness simmered in the violet depths, which reflected the stars above. A lance stabbed through his chest to think he might be the cause of her distress.
He dropped his head and kissed her, a gentle movement along her lips as he licked at the seam, seeking admittance. She opened to him, and he teased her senses. He nipped and darted with his tongue, not wanting to kiss her too deeply, when he needed his wits about him. The fractious wolf that owned half his soul soothed to have her so close, where she should be, in his arms.
She sighed and he drew back to rest his forehead against hers. “Tell me what has happened.”
She drew a deep breath before answering. “It was silly, really. Lady Merton was telling her friends that you were besotted with her and had proposed, and that she intended to give you her answer tonight.”
He huffed. The giggling coterie near Aster made sense, now. The woman had been deliberately cruel, no doubt after seeing them together on the dance floor. “She is partly right. I did propose some three years ago and she laughed in my face. She said she had no time for spares, only for heirs.”
The pain in her eyes dissipated, to be replaced by concern for him. “Oh, Hamish. I am at a loss in their world, like a fish cast on shore. An earl needs a noble wife who can host such entertainments.”
He laughed aloud at that. “I hate the trappings of society and you will find life in Scotland more informal. Also I may have inadvertently let slip to Lady Merton that I am an Unnatural and may yet be unable to either marry or inherit. The idea of living a common life curled up to my furry side seems to have made her quite faint. She will need the support of several suitors and a large drink to remove the taint of ever having associated with me.”
“You told her?” Aster whispered, her gaze wide.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “People will know soon enough. Let them gossip, I don’t care. There is only one woman I will ever love. Only one woman I have given my heart to, if she would accept it.”
Aster remained silent. Why wasn’t she saying anything? The waiting was worse than when Alick stuck him in the ribs with the old claymore and he knew his cousin had to draw the blade back out. “I love you, Aster. With all that I am, wolf and man.”
At last a mischievous smile lit her face. “I love you, Hamish. But in future I will require wolf protection against the barbs of noble women at social events. There must be some benefits to being pack mother. I think four men in wolf form lounging at my feet would present quite an effective image.”
“Once the rest of my men know you, I suspect they will do anything you ask, my star.” He kissed her again, a gentle taste of the woman he loved, but events nagged at his mind. There was so much he had planned out in his head but he had to make her safe first. Blast. He needed her away from the balcony before Quinn and Forge arrived.
He clasped her face in his hands. “You must go, Aster. Down the stairs and wait in the garden. I cannot have Forge passing you on his way here.”
She nodded and reached up for another kiss. Then she darted down the stairs and disappeared amongst the yew statuary. She left none too soon, for Quinn stepped out to the balcony, Forge ghosting him like the evil shadow he was. A shiver ran down Hamish’s spine. He hoped Aster stayed tucked away from sight, and that the younger man was prepared. Alick and Ewan should be lurking close, inside the rooms but only a few strides away. Wolf ears would be listening to events outside.
“Simmons,” he said, donning the role he had to play, and held out his hand.
Quinn stepped forward and shook his hand. “Captain. I hope you can be of assistance to me, as we discussed.”
Forge moved closer. “I’m sure we can both be of assistance to you in this troubling matter.”
Hamish gestured to the man behind him. It bothered him that Forge
was staying in the periphery of Quinn’s vision and wouldn’t step into the open. He expected Forge to reveal his true nature during this meeting, the only question was how he would do it. “This is Callum Forge, who has offered to relieve you of your burden.”
Quinn turned, angling his back away from the double agent. “Most decent of you. It would seem something quite troublesome has fallen into my possession.”
“So you have the list?” Forge asked. His dark eyes gleamed as they caught a shaft of light from inside. It was as though his greed lit him from the inside. Greed was the only thing that touched the cold void inside him.
“Sir John entrusted it to me, yes,” Quinn said, his gaze flicking to Hamish and then back to Forge. Hamish nodded, but both men waited for the vampyre to make his move. Aster didn’t want them to end him without evidence; it would be mighty convenient if he provided such in the next few minutes.
The turncoat glanced around as though searching for something, or someone. Then held out his hand. “I’m sure you will step lighter, once you shift its burden to me.”
Quinn started to draw the book from his jacket pocket, when a man coalesced from the shadows and ran up onto the balcony. Even in the murky shadows, Hamish saw his arm outstretched, a sword in his hand. The conspirators couldn’t risk a pistol; a gunshot would bring the entire ballroom out to the balcony, wondering what was going on.
“Look out,” he called to Quinn as he stepped into the path of the charging assailant. At the same time a scream of Albert came from below. Fear ran down his spine. Aster. She shouldn’t be here. Hamish drew his cavalry sword and struck out, catching the other man’s blade and checking his forward momentum. From the corner of his eye he saw Forge snatch the book from Quinn. He hoped the youngster had the good sense to let the thing go. That was part of the plan, to ensure Forge showed his hand and took the false list in return.
Hamish’s opponent slashed wildly with his sword, relying on force rather than finesse but he was no match for a wolf. Hamish parried and drove him back, away from Quinn. Meanwhile, Quinn struggled with Forge. Surprise registered on the vampyre’s face that he did not easily overpower his combatant. Hamish growled a warning to his man and Forge wrenched the volume from Quinn’s grasp as the younger man let it go to draw the knife hidden at his back. Unable to shift, Quinn had to rely on a weapon.
Unfortunately Forge had one closer to hand, hidden in his jacket sleeve on a spring. He chose metal over his fangs. Shame, after the trouble Aster and Aunt Maggie had gone to, plying Quinn with vervain until he practically sloshed with each step.
The commotion and Aster’s scream brought Ewan and Alick from inside. Their wolf eyes glowed yellow as they sought out the combatants in the dark. Both men jumped to where Quinn fought with Forge.
Hamish finished off his unknown assailant with a swift thrust of his sword and then he threw him backward, pulling his sabre free. He needed to assist Quinn. Their trap had unfolded and Forge showed himself for the murderous bastard they knew him to be. He pulled his sabre free as the man slumped to his knees, but he was too late. Forge drew his knife over Quinn’s throat and pushed him to the ground just as Ewan and Alick lunged for him.
Forge jumped backward, landing like a cat on the stone railing.
Aster darted past, running to help her adopted brother. Hamish grabbed her around the waist. He could not risk her too.
“No, Aster,” he said as he pulled her to him. They could only watch as Quinn lay unmoving on the ground, Ewan at his side. “Run him down, Alick!” he called to his cousin.
Forge saluted Hamish and vaulted over the railing into the dark. Alick leapt after him. Mid-dive he tore at his clothes; they fell away and a large auburn wolf sailed through the air. A dull thud came as the wolf hit the earth and pursued his prey. Meanwhile, the others gathered around their fallen comrade.
28
Aster
* * *
Aster walked around the topiary while her thoughts soared and swooped like swallows. To finally hear Hamish say the words, that he loved her and offered his heart! She was truly blessed. She wished her mother had lived to meet Hamish, and to know she’d found a love like Lilly had shared with Sir John. She was euphoric as dreams of the future spun out, ideas dancing on beams from the silvery moon above.
She danced to the wafts of music that rolled over the garden from the open doors and windows above. Aster allowed herself a full minute to indulge in happy dreams and then she carefully placed those thoughts to one side. Hamish had told her to stay hidden, but she simply couldn’t. She could not abandon her fictitious brother like she had her father.
She circled back to the balcony. Hamish might be captain over his men, but Aster had not yet learned to take orders. She needed to know what was going on and her analytical mind needed to know what a vampyre looked like. His movements might reveal more details to include in her new encyclopaedia on Unnaturals.
Her intention was to spy on the men from the safety of a large yew. From above her head came muffled voices and scuffling. The moon was uncooperative, hiding behind the clouds, and there was little light spilling from the ballroom. Without the advantage of wolf eyes that could see in low light, she would require a better view.
Aster crept closer until she stood at the foot of the wide stone stairs. The people above were outlined like shadow puppets by the soft illumination behind them. Even her inexperienced eye could spot a fight when she saw one in progress. The action drew her from the shadows. Men had died because of her, and she would no longer run and hide. It didn’t matter that she had never held a weapon in her life, nor did she exactly have a plan. There was one thing every woman can do that men find most distracting: scream.
“Albert!” Aster raced up the stairs, shouting her fake brother’s name. Her hope was to either distract the men engaged in the melee, or more likely, draw the attention of the dancers inside. Given that the traitors would want to remain anonymous, she doubted they would like half the assembly room rushing outside demanding to know what was happening.
“Albert!” She added an ear-splitting shriek for good measure as she made the top step.
Flickering light spilled from the open doors and played over the four men. For a moment it was as if she watched a play upon the stage. Hamish was engaged in a duel with a man and Aster could imagine the roar and gasps from a crowd, matching every thrust. She froze for a moment when a sliver of light ran over the man’s face. She recognised him—he had stood in Sir John’s office the last day she had seen her father.
Then her concern for Quinn overrode her fear of the unknown man. He had no weapon in his hand and the man behind him—the vampyre, presumably—had a glint of metal protruding from a sleeve. Why was he not using his fangs? They hypothesised he might sink them into Quinn’s neck, ingest the vervain, and be stricken with weakness.
The man at Quinn’s side raised his hand, and the light danced across his throat. She thought her lungs would explode as she cried out. Alick and Ewan exploded out the double doors and raced to help their comrades. Behind them, people began to appear, drawn by her screams. The other dancers at first had puzzled looks on their faces, and then shouts rang out from inside as men called for help.
Hamish pushed away his assailant, and the man slumped to the ground. He reached out and grabbed Aster as she ran to Quinn.
“No, Aster,” he barked in her ear. She clawed at his arms around her waist as Quinn’s hands went to his throat and he dropped to his knees, his eyes wide.
The dark figure made a graceful cat leap backward to balance on the balustrade. He threw a salute to Hamish before disappearing into the night.
“Run him down, Alick!” Hamish yelled.
Alick roared and jumped. Mid-air his form shimmered and, as though he plunged through water, he reformed as a wolf. Light glinted on auburn fur. His long canines were white against his darker mouth. The wolf snarled as people gasped, and somewhere in the crowd, a woman screamed. The enormous wolf hit the ground and
took off across the lawn like a hound after a rabbit.
Aster wrenched herself free of Hamish and threw herself on Quinn. He lay prone, face down and blood pooled under his body. Sobs racked her body. He could not be dead. Hamish had promised her that wolves were exceptionally hard to kill.
In the dim corners of her mind she was aware of the activity around her, of people asking did you see the Unnatural turn into a wolf? A hand shook her shoulder, but she brushed it away. She would not leave him. This time she wouldn’t abandon someone who needed her. She would stay at Quinn’s side until he woke up.
Lanterns were brought out and set around the fallen men. More men appeared, these ones in overcoats and not formal attire. Questions were asked of Hamish, and he replied in a steady tone. Another man knelt down and placed his fingers over the top of Quinn's cravat.
“Dead,” he said over his shoulder. Then he glanced at Aster. “I’m so sorry about your brother, miss.”
Over the chaos came the calming tone of Hamish’s voice as he narrated events. He told of the assailant who attacked him and whose body now lay to one side. He described the man who he’d thought a friend, who had slit Albert Simmons’s throat from behind before running off into the dark. Then Alick had returned. The large wolf sat at Hamish’s side and shook its head. The crowd drew back, as though afraid it would lunge after them next.
Someone brought a blanket and it was laid over Quinn’s body. Still she would not desert the young man.
“It’s time, Aster. Let us take him home now.” Only Hamish could move her. He raised her up and gathered her into his arms.
Alick shifted back into human form and donned his abandoned uniform while Ewan shielded the assembled people from the sight of his naked Highland buttocks. Then the two men picked up the blanket-wrapped Quinn. They walked down the steps and through the garden, as other men carried their lanterns high to light their way, ensuring no one stumbled in the dark. It would not do to carry a slaughtered man back through the assembly room, and they made a sombre procession through the rose garden, sweetly scented with a multitude of blooms.
Secrets to Reveal Page 27
