Souls to Heal

by Tilly Wallace

  He climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up his body. “I’ll have you know some women swooned on first seeing me au naturel.”

  She could well imagine it. Her knees trembled under the bedding and probably would have buckled if she hadn’t been lying down. He would probably think her as foolish as the women who had paid for his time if he knew how strongly she reacted to him. “I’ve probably seen a few more naked men than your average society matron.”

  He huffed. “So in your experience, I don’t compare favourably?”

  She bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. For all that they boasted of being the stronger sex, men had delicate egos when it came to a particular part of their anatomy. Alice schooled her features to maintain a frown, a practice that had become easier under Ewan’s tutelage. “Perhaps it is other men who suffer from the comparison, and my giggle was one of nervous relief that I don’t have to lie outrageously to inflate your ego. I was never good at pretending.”

  Ewan gave a low chuckle as he settled in the bed. “Men do like to hear they are the biggest a woman has ever seen, even if their appendage is the size of a baby’s finger.”

  Alice lay on her side to study his face as they talked. “Some men take a gasp of surprise as amazement at their endowment, when in fact we’re shocked at how small it is and wondering where we put the magnifying glass.”

  His chuckle turned to a bark of laughter. “Let us agree to be honest with each other, Alice, and not resort to the gilded lies that courtesans peddle.”

  Alice’s heart stuttered in her chest. How could she ever be honest with him? A small lie was better than revealing the true extent of how he affected her. “Very well. You are not malformed despite your injuries, and some would go as far as to call you pleasing to the eye.”

  He rolled towards her and stroked her cheek. “And you are an ethereal beauty such as I have never seen before. You are a forest sprite who steals my breath as she casts her magic over me.”

  He rolled back over, blew out the candle and darkness settled over them.

  Alice swallowed, his words still echoing in her mind. She was more confused than ever. Warmth radiated from Ewan’s body and Alice couldn’t stay away from him.

  He lifted his arm and she nestled against him, one hand on his chest. This was what her soul ached for all day: time in his arms while her mind wrestled with all her burgeoning thoughts and ideas. With her hand on his skin, she reached out to find the traces of silver within him. Each day it seemed to sink deeper into his bones. How long before it consumed all of him and even the most powerful mage wouldn’t be able to reverse the damage done by the French magic?

  She would not lose him or the wolf she had never seen. That thought gave her more reason to work harder on expanding her gift. Her hand sensed the bullet deep in his femur, but she dared not try to summon it until she was sure it would work. Better to concentrate on the mundane aspects of her life before she was tempted to try and make the bullet wriggle.

  “Daisy is having marital problems with Jimmy and burst into tears on me today. I have offered my mage-blood skill to find their love for one another. He is a great beast of a man. I wonder if he is an ox-changeling.”

  “They must make a grim-looking couple.” Ewan stroked her upper arm with his thumb.

  “Grim or grime? I had to bite my tongue before I suggested they both start with a bath.”

  His chest shook as he laughed. “I see my attention to personal grooming is rubbing off on you.”

  Eilidh settled on the bed down by Ewan’s feet, with one eye on the door.

  “I plan to concoct a spell that involves a large quantity of hot water and soap. Jimmy is going to talk to you about employment prospects.” Alice couldn’t keep her eyes open and let them drift shut.

  “Good. I believe I have something to trade that will be of value to them,” Ewan whispered against her hair.

  16

  Ewan

  * * *

  Bird song woke Ewan early the next morning. Long before colour appeared in the sky outside, birds left trees and hedges to find their breakfast in the damp earth. In the quiet that enveloped the room after the nearby birds had flown off, Ewan gave himself over to his deepest thoughts about the woman asleep in his arms.

  If you took a jug full of rocks, it seemed impossible to add anything else to the container. But if you poured in water, it would find all the gaps between the rocks. Ewan was the rocks and Alice the water. She flowed through his cracked soul and filled all the empty places.

  He had meant what he said to her the previous night—she was a beauty unlike any other and he was falling under her spell. His growing need for her worried him. Even in its tortured state, his wolf rumbled with possessive thoughts. The need to join with her tortured the beast as much as the silver.

  How would he ever let her go? Their broken, jagged edges fit together to form a new and different whole. Then he remembered a darker beast that lurked inside him, the opposite to his wolf. Both creatures fought for control of his unconscious self.

  One would protect, the other destroy.

  His family blood coursed through his veins and wrestled with his lycanthrope side. He couldn’t keep hold of Alice, no matter how much he wanted to. If the demon ever broke free, he would squeeze the life from her where Hoth had failed.

  He needed to clear the muddled thoughts clogging up his mind and to find a way forward. Careful not to wake the sleeping woman, he slid his arm out from under her. He would miss his morning massage, but he needed to exercise a different muscle—the one in his head.

  His covert mission to exit the cottage undetected was undermined by the dog who needed to go outside to answer a call of nature and a non-cooperative leg that gave out on him, causing him to crash against the chair as he dressed.

  “What are you doing?” Alice sat up, rubbing her eyes.

  “I’m heading out for an early ride.” He righted the chair and then shrugged on his jacket.

  “So early?” She peered at the dim window. The light that filtered through was caught between moonlight and dawn.

  “I find watching dawn creep over the ocean helps me think. Go back to sleep.”

  “I must rework the spell in case someone sees you,” she murmured.

  She was right, of course. It was too great a risk to have someone see his true face. He sat on the edge of the bed, took her hands, and pressed them to the sides of his face. With closed eyes, Alice whispered words under her breath that made a shiver wash over Ewan.

  Once done, she slid under the blankets, revealing only an exquisite collar bone and the arch of her neck and shoulder. He longed to follow the curve with his tongue, but he had to leave before he stripped off his clothes and crawled back to her inviting warmth.

  Alice thought he had control, but at times it was as fragile as spun toffee. One tap and it would shatter. Funny how others thought she was breakable, but she had the hidden strength of steel. The same people thought he had an iron control, but when it came to this woman, it would dissolve in a heartbeat if he thought he could truly have her.

  Once outside and with the horse saddled, he rode up the coast to watch the waves crash as the seagulls circled. He sat for a long time watching the sun come over the horizon, but still his mind was turmoil. He rode up and down the stretch of coast, as though he expected to find the answers he sought somewhere along the beach.

  As the sun rose higher, he stopped at a busy cove. Down below, women and children were picking through the rocks. There must have been a shipwreck recently and they were searching for anything that washed ashore. Another rider approached from the direction of the village. He matched Alice’s description of an ox-changeling—Jimmy McGaffin on a sturdy beast, one bred to pull a plough or carry his weight.

  “Hard work, that, if you’re thinking about giving it a go,” Jimmy said as he reined his horse to a halt by Ewan.

  So many people struggled to eke out a living, many right under the noses of the wealthy.
How much went on beneath their noses that the aristocracy never noticed? Or did they know but simply pretended not to notice, like the Unnaturals in their midst?

  Or like the abuse of women, his mother whispered from a distant memory.

  Ewan shook his head, pulling his attention back to the scene below. “I somehow doubt my leg would appreciate me scrabbling over rocks. I’m not as nimble as I was as a lad.”

  A small boy held up a flask he had found and a woman, presumably his mother, snatched it from his hands. It was a hard life picking amongst debris, looking for anything of value that the sea gave up.

  “Hear you’re looking for work,” Jimmy said.

  Ewan nodded. “Anything that would produce a coin or two. It doesn’t sit right that Alice is the one putting a roof over our heads. That’s my duty.”

  Jimmy pulled a filthy-looking handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose, a noise that startled Ewan’ placid horse and gave Ewan a flashback to the bugle signal to advance.

  “I might know of something. There’s an old woman in the village and rumour has it she keeps a pile of coins under her mattress. Me and another fellow were going to pay her a visit and have a peek.”

  Ewan shuddered. These men had no honour if they would rob an old woman who had probably hoarded coins to see her through her old age. “No, thank you.”

  Jimmy narrowed his gaze. “You too good for thieving?”

  Ewan turned and pinned Jimmy with a cold stare. “No. But I have a problem with taking coin from someone as down-on-their-luck as me. There are far deeper pockets out there.”

  “Oh, like who?” Having absorbed a quantity of snot, Jimmy’s cloth now wiped sweat from his forehead before he shoved it back in his pocket.

  Ewan suppressed a shudder at the action. He swept a hand over the stretch of beach and the ocean beyond. “Rum, brandy, tea, and tobacco are all to be had in exchange for a bit of hard work and enterprise. Those are profits that would feed and clothe several families and benefit the entire community, and the only pocket hurt would be the Exchequer.”

  “You’re talking about smuggling.” Jimmy laughed.

  Ewan shrugged. “Why do you think I brought Alice to Kent? I know the opportunities available to men out here. I just need to find those of a like mind to make it happen. I might not be able to lift a barrel, but I have other skills. I can read and do arithmetic.”

  If the lummox didn’t take that hint, then Ewan didn’t know what else to do. He might have to start a rival smuggling gang just to have something to do and in the hope that he and Forge would be boats that met in the night.

  Jimmy scratched his bushy jaw. “If you’re of that inclination, I’ll talk to the boss see what he says about bringing in someone new. We lost a man recently and could do with one more. We’re a small and tight crew, though.”

  With that said, Jimmy turned his horse and rode off, leaving Ewan hoping the boss mentioned was Forge. Otherwise, he would be scrambling over rocks for a clue that Alice could use.

  Three nights later, Ewan sat in what he now referred to as his corner, tracking Alice as she moved amongst the patrons in the dim interior. At the same time, he kept a look out for a particular type of man. The sort who turned their faces from the authorities and made their own way under cover of dark. He made some progress as each night more men stopped to chat with him.

  Trust was slow to build, but one contact led to another as he made it known he was familiar with an excise man with expensive habits. He couldn’t offer the smugglers physical strength, but he could offer them inside knowledge of when the officers would be out.

  Men would sit opposite him, he would buy them a tankard of ale, and they would judge each other while they talked of inconsequential things. While discussing the weather or recounting war tales, they weighed up how much to trust each other. Tonight had not seen any progress and yet an expectant air hung in the tavern. More than once, he caught other men staring at the door, waiting.

  Ewan would lay money on something happening tonight, and it made him grind his teeth to not know what. He needed a breakthrough. He needed to find the one person who would crook their finger and let him close to the gang Forge was using to advance the French cause. He needed to find the weapon created by the French mages before it was unleashed on an unprepared England.

  The door banged open as someone threw their weight behind it. Everyone looked up as a group of six men spilled into tavern. One tumbled forward, obviously the man who crashed into the door. The others laughed and pointed as he lost balance.

  Ewan’s heart tightened as the over-balanced fellow dove onto Alice. The large man’s hands went around her as he used her to stop his fall. She gave a yelp and Ewan rose from his seat. The blackguard better not harm her. Then laughter broke out as the man righted himself and held up his hands in horror.

  Alice met Ewan’s gaze across the room and she shook her head slightly. No rescue needed; she was all right. The man and his friends apologised loudly to her.

  “Drinks are on us!” one said and scattered gold coins on the bar.

  The door closed on the last man, one who stuck to the shadows even at night, but Ewan’s blood ran cold as the nondescript man skirted the crowd to seek out his own quiet corner.

  Forge.

  Plans were constructed and abandoned in Ewan’s mind. As much as he hated inactivity, his mission here was more akin to fishing than direct battle. He had thrown out his bait; now he needed to exercise patience, play out his line, and wait for Forge to take a bite.

  Conversation erupted in the tavern as men bombarded the new comers with questions. Ewan caught snatches of, how did it go? Another man’s mouth made the shape for barrels. Much to his frustration he stayed on the edge, trying to piece together what he overheard. From the corner of his eye, he saw men tug the brims of their caps at Forge. A quiet signal of acknowledgment and respect.

  A man with an accordion sat on a table and began playing a fast tune. Another man grabbed a fiddle and joined him, and soon the tavern echoed with fast and cheerful music. The women in the crowd were quickly claimed for dancing and couples whirled around the hurriedly cleared space.

  The man who bumped into Alice approached her with his tweed cap in hands. Ewan couldn’t hear what he said over the music as all words were washed away. After a short conversation, her gaze sought his and she cocked her head to one side, asking a silent question.

  He shrugged and tried to look disinterested. It was up to her if she wished to dance or not. Ewan couldn’t take her out on the floor, but he didn’t think she would want any man but him touching her. He was surprised when she let the man take her fine hand in his enormous one.

  Just as he worked his hand each day to stretch the tendons and remind his fingers of their job, so each day she reclaimed another piece of herself and moved a little easier amongst people. Round and round, the dancing couples spun. So intent was Ewan on keeping track of Alice that he didn’t hear the man slide onto the bench opposite him.

  “Your wife is a pretty, wee thing, Evans.”

  It took seconds for his distracted mind to register the use of his false name. He turned with a practised smile in place. “That she is.”

  He flicked his gaze over the man while pretending disinterest. This fellow had burst through the door with the others with spare gold in his pockets. Tall and skinny, he looked the sort who would eat like a horse and never lay down a spare ounce of flesh. His haggard face had a long nose and deep-set eyes. Dark hair was cropped so short that pink scalp showed through in places.

  “What does she see in a maimed soldier like you?” his new acquaintance asked.

  While his hand grew stronger every day, admittedly the limp did bother him and labelled him cripple. Still Ewan could ignore the jibe. Others saw only the glamour Alice used to hide his true features. “There are other ways to keep a woman satisfied that don’t involve standing up or dancing.”

  Ewan kept his gaze on the other man as he widened his grin an
d winked. Let him work through what that comment meant. Like most men, this one thought size and strength were what appealed to a woman. But a woman could be blind to a man’s appearance if he knew how to put her wants and needs before his own.

  That was the real reason he had made such an impression on the older matrons in London. True, his handsome face added to his appeal, but his real skill was knowing exactly what lonely women wanted after years of cold, empty marriages. Then his nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of his companion. His tendency to bathe regularly was also part of his popularity.

  The man barked in laughter and even snorted beer out his nose as he finally understood the comment. “Guess you didn’t lose that in the war, then?”

  “I am quite intact where it counts.” Ewan poured more ale. These oafish men with their crude comments weren’t his preferred type of company, but he would make do for a chance to plunge his hands into Forge’s torso and pull out his liver. This time he would make sure the fiend was permanently laid to rest.

  His new friend leaned closer over the table, not that they needed to whisper with the loud music and raucous laughter around them. “Jimmy says you know an excise man.”

  Ah. Finally, someone asked the right questions of him. Had Jimmy sent him or their silent master in the corner, the one looking as disinterested in Ewan as Ewan was pretending to be in him?

  “Yes. A particular one with a fondness for gambling and who keeps a lovely mistress. He has expenses, you see, that his pay doesn’t always meet.” Ewan held his tankard in one hand and stared at the malty ale. The brew wasn’t bad, given the low status of the tavern. He’d certainly had worse that tasted as though they strained it through old stockings.

  “Poor fellow. Perhaps we could help him meet his expenses, if he could help us.”

  The question hung between them. Here was the moment Ewan had been waiting for, to be taken into the smuggling ring in return for delivering information on the excise officers.