The other man smiled. “A flower that many think unremarkable because they do not know how truly remarkable it is.”
Quite so. Aster had been disregarded until Hamish glimpsed the keen mind hiding behind her darkened glasses. Now that the War Office had her wielding that intellect in their favour, they had no intention of giving her up. When not deciphering coded messages for the war effort, she worked to advance their knowledge of Unnaturals.
It seemed fitting that she was their way of identifying each other, although talk of plants had him wondering what Alice would see in the natural carpet spread out on the cliff. Were there cures for various ailments scattered around that none would see except her? Did he ride over something that could battle the silver in his blood?
They should come for a ride together, so she could explore nature’s bounty. Thinking of things to do outside made a very natural, and nude, Alice flash through his mind. Ewan dragged his mind away from the memory of naked Alice hugging her knees in the cramped tin bath. “You have news?”
“Aye. There’s a gang operating somewhere along this stretch of coast. We’ve had deuced trouble trying to find them, and the man in charge seems but a wraith. We think they have tunnels somewhere.” His contact was an excise man, charged with stopping the smugglers and collecting the king’s taxes on goods and liquor entering England.
“You suspect it’s him?” Ewan couldn’t bring himself to say the demon’s name aloud, although it would be handy if he could be summoned in such a fashion. That was another way Alice could help. Once they had something Forge had touched, she would be able to locate his hidey-hole.
The excise man shrugged, the action carried out by his shoulders and lips in unison. “We found a dead man on the beach not far from here. His throat ripped out and his body drained of blood. Folk round here whispered of vampyres and everyone is growing garlic in their garden. Talk is the night before he was in the Sow, drunk and muttering his boss’ blood thirst turned his stomach.”
Ewan swore under his breath. Vampyres were considered a European Unnatural and none were, as yet, known to have made it to English shores.
“It must be him, unless we have a rogue vampyre dining on the locals. I may have need of you, to gain their trust. If I can offer them notice of the excise officers’ raids, I can get closer to them.” This was the intelligence he had to dangle before them. It didn’t matter if they smuggled brandy, a magical weapon, or lace, they still needed to know when the king’s men were in the area.
A frown drew the other man’s dark brows together. “You’ll stop them?”
“I’ll cut off the head and leave the rest blind for you to dispose of.” Ewan meant it literally. Forge was already dead and he had instructions on how to ensure the vampyre was eternally sent to Hell. Aster told him to remove and destroy the liver, but Ewan was taking his head as added insurance.
His contact nodded. “Done, then. I’ll meet you here same time, every three days, for an exchange.”
Ewan let the excise man ride away. Eilidh still waited by the horse. “Well, girl, we have progress on that issue. Shall we see if we can find the local witch so Alice knows where to source her herbs and such like?”
The dog barked and Ewan took that as agreement. Then he turned the gelding’s head and rode back towards the small settlement that encircled the tavern.
15
Alice
* * *
Alice donned her apron and tied the ends behind her back as she walked across the yard. She approached the rear of the building and pulled open the door. Inside, she was relieved to see the kitchen had moved on from the Tudor era of the building’s exterior and looked to have had improvements made in Georgian times.
One wall had three brickwork ovens, with embers glowing underneath and cast iron plates above that held kettles and pots. The adjacent wall had a large fireplace with a half carcass of meat on a spit. A wiry-coated turnspit dog ran in his wheel, and a chain from wheel to spit turned the mechanism to cook the roast evenly.
Daisy sliced vegetables at an enormous table in the middle of the room. Gaffie fussed by the ovens, stirring a pot that looked large enough to bathe a child.
“Good morning.” Alice called to the women as she walked over to the dog’s workspace.
“Morning,” Gaffie and Daisy chimed in unison.
Alice’s heart broke for the ugly little canine. Turnspit dogs lived thankless lives, working endlessly with only short breaks to keep the meat revolving. Often they laboured without so much as a name, not even recognised as living creatures. No one spared a thought for the little animal that cooked dinner.
The dog paused for a breath, and she reached between the spokes of the wheel to scratch his ears. Mournful eyes fixed on her as he leaned into her touch.
“What can I do?” Alice asked, giving the dog one more pat before returning to the long table. She tried to make sense of the array of items spread before her.
“Can you make pie?” Gaffie said, waving a wooden spoon in the air. “The lads love something sweet after their stew.”
Alice ran an eye over the ingredients stacked on the table. There was flour and butter to make a pastry, and berries that would make a filling. A little cinnamon or spice would add to the flavour, if she dipped into her tiny supply. “Leave it to me; I’ll concoct something.”
Gaffie beamed and moved down the row of hot plates to stir another pot. “You’re a good girl, Alice. What’s your man up to today?”
Daisy took her chopped vegetables to the stove and scraped them off the board with the large knife. They dropped into the pot with a faint plop.
“He’s going for a ride up the coast. Always looking out to sea that one, trying to find a way to earn a living.” She hoped her hint wasn’t too obvious.
Daisy picked up a parsnip and waggled it at Alice. “Jimmy says he’ll have a chat with Sean. He might know of something.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Alice found a bowl and added flour and butter to begin making pastry. Once she had rubbed the butter through, she would add a pinch of salt and then enough water to make the pastry into a pliable dough that she could roll out.
The women chatted as they worked. Alice had never been much of a talker, but she tried since the other two went out of their way to include her. She had spent long stretches in total isolation as Hoth’s pet, and then in Bedlam her fellow inmates had been more inclined to talk to the walls than to each other. It was odd to talk of trivial things and local gossip when there were deeper issues affecting the world.
By the time the other two were speculating on the father of another woman’s child, Alice had two large pies baking in one of the brick ovens.
“Oh, that smells delicious,” Gaffie said.
The turnspit dog was allowed a break and Gaffie lifted him down for a drink of water.
“Does he have a name?” Alice asked. She found an offcut of meat and slipped it to the dog. With a long body and short, crooked legs, he was an ugly thing, but he gave her a grateful look as he wolfed down the titbit.
“No.” Gaffie frowned. “He’s just the turnspit dog.”
“Oh.” Alice loved Eilidh, and it ached her heart to think this creature never saw the smallest scrap of affection. Here at least was something she could do while in Seabrook. She had a dream of liberating abused women like she used to be; her plan now expanded to rescuing turnspit dogs.
There was also a wolf she longed to set free. As Alice worked, she exercised her gift, locating the ingredient she needed and trying to summon it to her. When the salt pot bumped an inch along the table to her outstretched hand she nearly shouted in triumph.
With the pies baking, Alice helped Daisy wash and dry the used pots and utensils. As the pastry on the pies began to turn golden brown, the sweet aroma wafted through the kitchen.
The door banged open and a large man filled the space. He stopped and sniffed, hands on his hips. “Outdone yourself today, Ma. Smells grand.”
“That’ll be Alice’s pies you smell.” Daisy rushed over to the hulking stranger and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, an action he ignored.
So this was Jimmy, son of Mrs McGaffin and Daisy’s husband.
He turned to narrow his eyes at Alice and she shrank inside. Timid Alice, the one who was afraid of men, ran and hid in her reinforced room. She slammed the door in her mind so hard the walls shook. The other Alice, the new bolder one, met his gaze.
“Blackberry pie with a touch of cinnamon. Hopefully the patrons will like it tonight.” She brushed down her apron and glanced at the knife resting on the table. If he got too close, she’d reach the knife long before he could reach her.
He pushed the door shut behind him and walked across the floor. “Ma and Daisy told me about you and your man. Sean, is it?”
Now Alice knew why Daisy looked at Ewan with longing. Stand the two men side by side, and even with the hiding enchantment that concealed Ewan’s features, he was still a finely crafted work of art compared to this great clay beast who looked ready to pull a cart.
Jimmy was big and broad with the flat, crooked nose of a man who liked to brawl. He also emitted a pungent odour that battled the sweet tang of pie. That would be why the bath looked largely unused. This man certainly seemed unfamiliar with the concept of washing.
She glanced sideways at Daisy. Her new friend could also do with a good scrub and hair washing. Then her attention shot back to Jimmy. “Yes, Sean was injured fighting the French and is having a devil of a time trying to find work.”
Jimmy scratched at the stubbly beard attached to his face that merged with enormous sideburns that swept from his jaw up to his hairline. “A fellow soldier. You’re lucky he returned at all. Our da didn’t.”
Alice glanced at Gaffie. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise. I am thankful that I have Sean back, even in his injured state.”
The older woman busied herself wiping her hands on her apron. “Well, he was a gruff old bugger, but I loved him just the same. He wouldn’t have Jimmy going off to war on his own and insisted on joining up, too. I swear he thought it was a grand adventure.”
Jimmy dropped a hand to his mother’s shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. “He did us proud, Ma, not that the bloody government cares. We’re all just cannon fodder to them. Those Unnatural freaks are treated better than good, honest Englishmen.”
Alice noted that Jimmy didn’t care for Unnaturals. Not that Ewan would shift into a wolf before him, but it was better to know a man’s prejudices when talking to him. Jimmy’s regard for his mother made Alice wonder if a softer side lurked inside the great brute, although it didn’t seem that Daisy saw much of it. The other woman looked as starved and hungry for affection as the turnspit dog.
“Sean says much the same. Those in charge abandon soldiers who served our country once they are of no use,” Alice said.
Dull brown eyes regarded her, and then he grunted and reached a hand down the back of his pants to scratch his bottom. “Every man has to look out for himself, but we take care of our own around here. If your Sean is a good one, we’ll find a way for him to provide for you both.”
Alice smiled. Her role on this mission was no different than as a fledgling courtesan. Be interested in the man—attention was as attractive to a man as a fine form. A small amount of flattery and downcast eyes could work wonders for loosening a tongue. “Thank you. In the meantime, I shall do my bit by helping your mother and Daisy to keep all the men fed.”
He took another sniff and winked at her. “If your pie is anything as good to eat as it smells, I think Ma will be happy to keep you around.”
“Right, girls, stew is all done and the pies won’t take much longer—let’s tidy up the tavern before the boys all start to drag themselves in for supper.” Gaffie waved them towards the next room.
“I’ll bring up another keg, Ma.” Jimmy lumbered away to the doorway that led down to the cool cellar where the ale was kept.
Daisy grabbed two buckets and handed one to Alice. “Let’s fill these outside to wipe the tables down.”
They walked out into the sunshine to the well. Alice grabbed the rope and let it down with a splash.
“Your Jimmy is a fine, strapping man,” Alice said.
Daisy took the rope and hauled up a full bucket of water and tipped it into one of the pails. She had a faraway look in her eye as she worked. “That he is, and he loves his ma ever so much. I just wish he was more loving with me.”
“What do you mean?” Alice sent the empty bucket back down to fill far below.
A sad smile curved Daisy’s lips. “I feel as though I’ve lost his love.”
Alice laid a hand on Daisy’s arm. “Tell me to mind my own business if you want. But I am mage-blooded and can find things. Usually people seek my help to find lost jewellery or trinkets that have meaning to them, but I could try to find your lost love.”
Daisy rubbed a hand over her belly. “I want to find more than his love.”
Alice glanced at the gesture, looked around and leaned in closer. “My mother wasn’t just mage-blooded, she was a witch. She had a reputation in our village for her spells that helped women conceive.”
“A witch?” Daisy’s eyes widened and she drew in a sharp breath. “Do you know a spell that would help me?”
Alice hid her humour. Witch evoked a stronger response than mage-blooded ever did. One seemed capable of no more than parlour tricks, whereas a witch was a woman of arcane power to rival the feared mages.
Alice hoped that friendship with Daisy would reveal a large amount of local information, particularly since she shared a bed with one of the smugglers. This seemed the ideal opportunity to offer her help to advance their friendship. “I know many spells, but my strength is finding things. I need to know what is lacking so that I know what needs to be found. Does Jimmy need to find your love, or does his seed need to find your womb?”
Daisy dropped the bucket and sat down on the edge of the well. Tears formed in her eyes. “Both. He seldom lays with me, and when he does, it is rather . . . brief.”
Alice sat next to her, draped her arm over Daisy’s shoulder, and pulled the other woman close. “Leave it to me. I will concoct a spell for both of you. One half to rekindle Jimmy’s love and the other half to help you quicken. You can see by how he treats his mother that he is a man with a large heart. All he needs is a magical nudge to remind him why he married you.”
Alice didn’t need to be a witch to know what spell would work; it involved hot water, soap, and a good dose of lavender oil. They both needed to bathe and wash their hair. Currently the only thing breeding was the lice on their bodies.
“Do you really think a spell will work?” Daisy blew her nose on the corner of her apron and then wiped her face.
“Of course. My mother was a third generation witch and quite powerful. While I am a fourth generation and not as strong as her, my talent allows me to target exactly what is needed.” Alice would also work her hiding gift on Daisy in a similar fashion to how she did on Ewan. Except she would do the opposite and make the woman’s feature’s finer, her cheek bones higher and her eyes wider. Jimmy would find his wife irresistible by the time Alice was done with her.
Daisy wiped her face on her apron. “You must think me daft, blubbing on you when we have only known each other for a couple of days.”
“I hope we can become firm friends, and isn’t this the sort of thing friends share, talking about their men troubles?” It was no hardship to like this woman; she was lost in her own way and needed a push in the right direction. Already Alice’s hand itched to hold the herbs that would form the base of the spell.
With buckets filled, the women headed back into the tavern. The rest of the afternoon and evening was an endless round of running to the kitchen for food, serving the men, and running back again. Alice thought she would be as fit as a racehorse before their time in Seabrook was over. Ewan appeared as dusk fell and settled into his corner with Eilidh.
He removed his shirt first, and she watched the play of shadow over his skin as he folded the item and draped it over the back of a chair. Then he sat and removed his Hessians, standing them at the end of the bed.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked without turning around.
“Yes. You either sleep here with me, or I join you on the floor.” She patted the blanket next to her.
His shoulders heaved in a sigh as though the prospect of sharing a bed with her was something unpleasant.
“Whatever is the problem?” Alice asked.
One black eyebrow arched. “I normally sleep naked, and I do not want you to think I plan to take advantage of you during the night.”
She laughed. “If anyone can control themselves, it is you. I have no fear of anything happening without my express consent. You also forget that while my time as a courtesan ended in a catastrophic fashion, I did nonetheless see a few naked men in my short career. You will not shock me by being the first.”
He huffed a gentle laugh. “If you are sure.”
He eased his trousers over his hips and folded them with the same care and attention as his shirt received. Then the items joined the neat stack on the chair. At last Ewan turned and stood naked before the bed.
Alice couldn’t help it. She had invited the man who made her heart race to join her in bed. Naked. Nerves welled up in her chest and she giggled. She sat up and slapped a hand over her mouth.
Ewan frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Did you just laugh at my splendid nakedness?”
Alice dropped her hand and tried to control her pounding heart. She desperately wanted to drink up the sight of him and linger over certain areas. “I’m so sorry, I swear I couldn’t help it.”
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