Scent of Danger

by Autumn Dawn

  His jaw tightened. “I dislike competing with a dead man.”

  She could sympathize. “Still, I think she likes you.”

  “Do you?”

  She had his interest now. Waving a confident hand in the air, she said, “Sure. No woman makes such a fuss over a guy she could care less about. You rattle her. Besides,” she confided in a low tone, “ever since she got back her youth I’ve noticed her checking out your butt.”

  The Haunt to either side of them coughed.

  Coloring, he muttered, “Do me a favor and stop trying to whisper. I have yet to see it work.”

  “Sorry.” She grinned, only half-repentant. Raziel and Matilda would be good for each other, and it was fun to tease him. “So will I be calling you Grandpa?”

  He choked.

  “And how are you at changing diapers?”

  Looking dazed and more than a little cross, he walked faster. “You’d better hope Mathin gets back before I decide to beat you, wench.”

  “Tsk.” She laughed, but decided not to tease him anymore. He really did look miffed, but she couldn’t help being happy at the prospect of watching romance bloom.

  The giddiness faded as she entered the hall and remembered all of the work yet to be done.

  “Milady! You must come look at this.” A frantic young woman in braids ran up to her, gripping her skirt in her hands. “The pantry is crawling with vermin and beetles. Everything is spoiled!”

  “How big are the beetles?” Andrea asked warily. If it was anything bigger than an Oreo cookie she wasn’t going to touch it.

  “Feeder beetle larva!”

  Andrea felt herself turn green. “Um, why don’t you get that brave young man over there to help you? It doesn’t sound like the sort of trouble a woman ought to wade into alone.”

  Clearly relieved, the girl went to commission help.

  “Ready for the inner gardens?” Raziel asked, smiling slightly at her reaction to the bug news.

  “Why not?” It can’t be worse.”

  True, there were no big maggots in the one acre garden, but it was choked with weeds, and except for a few beds of perennial vegetables and the fruit trees and vines trained against the walls, it had not been planted.

  She cupped a scaled fruit in her hand and weighed it on the vine. “At least this fruit looks okay. We’ll have to muck out the kitchens in record time and process what won’t keep. Do we have enough fuel for the kitchens and power system?”

  “Good question. I’ll check and deal with it,” Raziel volunteered.

  The weedy stone paths and wild beds drew her attention next. “Some of this stuff seems to have re-seeded itself. I think we can prune some of it back and still use it. Do you think there are any plants left in the gardens and fields outside that we could dig up and transplant in here? And fertilizer...we’ll need to find the tools…” Muttering to herself, she went in search of something to write her ever-growing list on.

  By the time she sat down to a simple dinner of stew and flatbread with Matilda and Raziel, she was almost too tired to eat. Matilda wasn’t much better. They’d put in a hard day cleaning up the worst of the citadel, making it livable if not cozy. New bedding covered the two mattresses they’d been able to scrounge up, with more promised for delivery over the next several days. Jell candles lit the table, since the lighting system still wasn’t repaired. Even the table was only a makeshift affair, nothing more than a couple of wide planks propped on boxes. More crates served as seats.

  Mathin still hadn’t come home.

  It wasn’t very good, but Andrea finished her stew anyway, too hungry to worry about it. With luck, she could find someone with a little more talent to cook tomorrow. Unfortunately, she had far too much to do to even think about doing it herself. The best she could likely do was a quick tour of the kitchens before she had to see to the gardens. Now that the cellars and pantries had been cleaned out, they’d need to be restocked.

  Andrea closed her eyes and rubbed them with the heels of her palms. “How would you like to be chatelaine, Grandma?” It was odd calling the young redhead that, but Matilda had insisted. The title was still hers, no matter how she looked.

  Matilda raised a brow. “Would I be doing less work than I already am?” She fed Lionheart, who sat in her lap, another tidbit. “I’m sure it will be easier as soon as we get this mess under control. Just think of it as housekeeping on a grander scale.”

  Andrea groaned. “My dream come true. Housekeeping. Hah! I feel like I’m running the Windsor Hotel.”

  “You’re just tired,” Matilda said with sympathy. “Go on up to bed. I’m sure Mathin will be home soon. Wait for him someplace comfortable.”

  Good advice. Collecting Lionheart, Andrea mumbled a good night and trudged up the stairs.

  The room she’d chosen was the largest available, easily big enough to accommodate a massive bed and a wood framed couch, presently stripped of cushions. Steps led up to the high bed frame, and she dearly hoped she wouldn’t tumble out. The curtains on the deep, wide windows leading to the balcony she left open, unwilling to let Mathin stumble in the dark when he came in.

  With a groan of satisfaction, she climbed under the covers, snuggled Lionheart to her tummy, and shut her eyes.

  Sleep didn’t come right away. In spite of her exhaustion, the strangeness of her surroundings pulled at her. It would have been much easier had Mathin been there. The knowledge troubled her. When had he become home?

  The silence cocooned her, shut out distractions. Memories tumbled in her mind, then sorted into a logical progression as she examined them. Yes, there it was. Why hadn’t she seen that even when she’d been angry with Mathin for tricking her into the Dark Lands, she’d looked to him for comfort? Even Matilda hadn’t made her feel that way, so it ruled out mere familiarity, though it had to be a part of it. He’d been in control of the situation, protective of her from the first. No one, not even her mother, had ever done more.

  He was a very special man, and he’d married her. Sworn he wanted no other. Tears pricked her eyes. Maybe it was time she grew up and stopped holding out.

  She loved him back, had probably from the first, and all along she’d been afraid to admit it. At first it was fear that he wouldn’t care in return. Later it was wariness of what she was getting him into. After that...she was ashamed to discover it had been a need to control keeping her silent. If she didn’t say it, it was almost as if the entire situation wouldn’t be quite real, and she could keep something back, protect her heart. She snorted at her logic. The Dark Lands and the Haunt were no dream. How much more real could she get?

  A smile curved her lips. Knowing Mathin, he’d toss her over his shoulder and drag her back home if she ever tried to leave him. He wasn’t the type to suffer in silence and bemoan his fate. No, he’d hunt her down and make love to her until she couldn’t see straight for ecstasy, then make her promise never to run away again.

  The door creaked open. She sat up. “Mathin?”

  “It had better be.” He sounded tired and out of sorts.

  Andrea relaxed. “You must be exhausted. Can I get you anything?”

  He sighed and crossed to the window, shut the drapes. “A clean bed and a good night’s sleep.” Rustling sounds came as he undressed.

  “Hard day?”

  “Good hunting, but we had to go to the edge of the swamps to find it. The lands have been badly over-harvested. It’s going to take time to rebuild the wild stock. The meat we brought back is in the cellars, hanging. Tomorrow we’ll process it.”

  “Glad we got them cleaned for you, then.”

  “Thank you.” He got in bed and took her in his arms. He stiffened as his hand touched Lionheart. “What’s he doing in the bed?”

  Annoyed, she frowned at him, well aware he couldn’t see her in the dark. “He’s just a baby. Where else would I put him?”

  His fingertip smoothed the lines between her eyes, surprising her. “Your little pet will one day weigh as much as I do.
Are you certain you wish him to sleep on the bed?”

  Grumbling, she tossed the covers off, felt around in the dark with her foot for her discarded clothes, and gently placed Lionheart on them. She gave him one last pat, turned, and slammed her toe into the bed steps. “Ouch!”

  “Would you like me to open the curtains to let the light in?” he asked in sympathy.

  “No, but I’d like a pair of night vision goggles for Christmas,” she snapped. Living with a Haunt was proving hazardous to her health.

  This time she got into bed without mishap.

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He snuggled her close.

  “Night, hon.”

  “Hon?”

  She yawned. “Ask me tomorrow,” she mumbled, and quickly fell asleep.

  An unholy racket woke them in the morning.

  “I said get out!”

  Mathin leapt out of bed and grabbed his sword. He opened the door just in time to see Raziel thrust outside the door of the room directly opposite. Buck naked, he held his clothes in his arms, his muscular backside to Mathin as he argued with Matilda.

  “I was only there to sleep, woman,” he groused irritably, tossing back his mussed hair. “Had I wanted anything else you’d have known it.”

  Matilda, red hair equally disheveled, but attired in a flowered nightgown, stood in the doorway and glared at him. “Decent men don’t crawl naked into my bed when I’m sound asleep!”

  Raziel inclined his head. “What about indecent men?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

  She slammed the door in his face.

  Raziel turned and grinned at Mathin. He shrugged. “We had no other beds here. What could a man do?”

  “What’s going—eek!” Andrea ducked back under Mathin’s arm and hid her flaming face in her palms. “Don’t you guys have any modesty?” Mathin was also unclothed.

  Mathin shook with silent laughter. “Are all humans this prudish?”

  “Prudish!”

  “Sensitive, then,” he amended. He closed the door.

  She scowled at him. “Aren’t you going to say anything to him? Matilda has a right to be mad. Raziel can’t just go crawling into any bed—”

  “He didn’t. He chose Matilda’s.”

  “Why is that okay?” she demanded, annoyed on Matilda’s behalf. “Is this a guy thing or a Haunt aberration?”

  He snatched her up in his arms and tossed her on the bed, then pounced on top of her. “Maybe I should explain it.” He nipped her ear.

  It was a very long and thorough lesson.

  When they finally made it downstairs for breakfast, Raziel was in high spirits.

  Matilda was as grumpy as a bear.

  Feeling rather chipper herself, Andrea decided to test Mathin’s theory. She waited until they had a quiet moment alone in the garden before saying casually, “You must have gotten quite an eyeful this morning.”

  Matilda paused in her weeding to give Andrea a dirty look. “It’s not funny. I woke up to find myself completely tangled with the dratted man.” Color stained her cheeks, as well as a certain degree of guilt.

  Andrea was willing to bet it hadn’t been a completely unpleasant experience. Not with that look in her eye. Just to be sure, she prodded, “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “Of course not!” Matilda exclaimed indignantly. “He never would. It was just so presumptuous of him, and so very…” She waved her gloved hand in the air. “Outrageous.”

  “Has he kissed you?”

  “Andrea!”

  Undaunted, Andrea shrugged. “What do you expect after the way you threw me after Mathin?”

  “That was different.”

  “Uh huh. So has he?”

  Matilda looked sheepish. “I haven’t let him.”

  Andrea shook her head and plucked another weed. “Might want to rethink that one, Grandma.”

  Examining the dirt in the bed they were clearing, she asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

  Astonished, Andrea stared at her. “Mind? Why would I mind?”

  Matilda shrugged.

  “Grandma…” She floundered for words. “I want you to be happy. If Raziel can make you that way, I say go for it.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Besides, if you don’t grab him someone else will.”

  Her advice seemed to fall on fertile soil. Later that morning Andrea passed a seldom used hallway and heard giggling. Thinking it might be kids, she went to investigate. Just before rounding the curved wall, she stopped in her tracks. She knew that voice.

  “Ohh...Raz,” her grandmother moaned. Another giggle.

  Too stunned to move, Andrea stood petrified to the spot.

  “Ohh, oh yes! Please!”

  Swallowing hard, Andrea quietly hit reverse.

  “You like that?” Raziel’s voice was full of male satisfaction. Slightly breathless.

  “Your fingers! Yes, please.”

  Caution be danged! Faster than a speeding bullet, Andrea cleared the hall.

  “What’s your hurry?” Mathin asked, about to enter the same hall.

  She grabbed his arm. “Don’t go in there!”

  Puzzled, he cocked his head. His gaze shifted as if he were hearing something. A broad smile broke over his face. “Hm.”

  “Don’t you say it,” she said through gritted teeth as she took his hand and dragged him away.

  “It’s possible he could be giving her a massage,” he suggested, trying and failing to maintain an innocent expression. He grinned.

  “Hah!”

  Oddly enough, when they saw the pair next, neither looked happy.

  “Please pass the salt,” Matilda asked Andrea at dinner. They were still using the makeshift table.

  Raziel reached in front of Andrea and plucked up the salt server, making a show of giving it to Matilda. “Anything else you desire, sweet?”

  “Nothing you’ve got,” she shot back, snatching the server. She plunked it down and vigorously salted what Andrea knew to be tough meat. They still hadn’t found a decent cook.

  Wishing to change the subject, Andrea sawed at her steak and observed, “Lovely weather we’re having. How long before the storms come, do you think, Mathin?”

  “Hard to tell about storms.” Raziel answered, looking over his cup at Matilda. “The weather sweeps from fair to foul here with dizzying speed.”

  Matilda glared at him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t make unreasonable demands on it. Besides, from what I’ve seen, you Haunt can’t make up your minds what you want.”

  Raziel’s eyes flashed. “I told you the woman accosted me, not—” He broke off and looked at the very interested Mathin and Andrea, who was seemingly fascinated with her tasteless meal. “We will discuss the weather later.”

  “We will not.” Matilda gripped her fork, her jaw set.

  “Later.” Nostrils still flared, Raziel all but snapped at Mathin, “So what do you intend to do about your cousin?”

  Mathin frowned. “You know I’ve sent messengers to the lands around us. Should my cousin be so foolish as to show his face here, I will deal with him. I don’t think he has the metal to do so.”

  “Perhaps.” Raziel stabbed at his meat. “The scouts are in place. You would know within the hour if he stepped foot on your land.”

  “What of your lands?” Mathin raised a brow and rested his forearms on the table. “You show great concern for my situation, and I thank you, but your estate is nearly as extensive as mine.”

  “I’ve sent men to look it over.” Raziel’s face shuttered. “My overseer is more capable than Tomlin ever thought to be. All remains under control.”

  Mathin shrugged. “It’s your choice.” His careless tone didn’t match his expression.

  Raziel looked at him suspiciously. “Since when did you care what becomes of my lands or any other? Jayems practically had to order you here.”

  An ironic smile lifted a corner of Mathin’s mouth. “True. Maybe I just don’t like to see anyone
else enjoy their freedom now that I’ve lost mine.”

  Andrea frowned at him.

  “Not you, my love.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Never you.”

  She smiled softly and rubbed her hand against his shoulder. Just a word from him could make her feel so good. She hoped his cousin never came.

  She wasn’t feeling well.

  They’d only been at the citadel a couple of days when she began to feel tired, almost drained. Mathin was very busy and Matilda was still in a snit, so it was easy to hide it at first. Andrea took care to eat right, but it wasn’t helping, not as it should. No matter how much she slept, she still felt tired and listless. Finally the morning came when she surrendered to the inevitable and summoned the local medic.

  His prognosis was grim. “You’re pregnant.”

  She gaped at him. The examination had taken place in her room, since she felt too tired to even walk to the village, and they were alone. “P-pregnant?”

  He gave his head a short, affirmative jerk and put away his things. “It’s not going well.”

  Irritated with his abrupt manner, she snapped, “Is that all you can say? Is there something I can do?”

  At touch of pity on his face, he nodded. “Prepare to lose the child. Human women always lose Haunt children. I‘m surprised your lord even let you conceive. I would have expected he’d take precautions.”

  Andrea paled. “Jasmine—”

  “Was a fluke. She was healthy and had a full symbiont. You have half, and your body is weak.” His expression softened and his tone gentled. “Tell your husband. Rumor says he’s not like his father. He will care.”

  Shocked that he would say such a thing, she demanded, “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “Call me when the bleeding starts. I’ll have my equipment ready.”

  She lay there after he’d left, staring at the ceiling. The details wavered in front of her damp eyes. The medic was wrong! She wouldn’t lose this child.

  Mathin’s baby.

  It seemed like only moments passed before Mathin burst in the door, his face pale and frightened. “Andrea!” He rushed to her side and took her in his arms. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Instead of answering, she burst into tears.