Master Wolf

by Joanna Chambers

  “I didn’t imagine I would be,” Drew replied. He glanced at Begg as he spoke but the man did not so much as flicker an eyelid. He was still watching Marguerite.

  The orchestra began to play—it was a waltz tune. A sedate one, though it would no doubt still be regarded as very fast by the sedate gentlefolk of Edinburgh.

  “How many others are interested in the skeleton, Mr. Begg?” Lindsay asked baldly, not deterred by Begg’s silence.

  “Hmm? Oh, let me think,” Begg said, frowning. “I believe there are four serious potential bidders, including Mr. Niven and Mr. Bainbridge. We could put the thing up for public auction, of course, but the Council is minded to sell quietly to a private bidder.”

  Drew resisted rolling his eyes. Of course they preferred a private sale—it was so much easier to skim the profits that way. And Drew was just about it to make it easier still—for Begg at least.

  “I would very much like to acquire this item, Mr. Begg,” he said. “If you can help to make that happen, I would be only too pleased to—well, show my appreciation. It seems only fair to pay a fee for good offices, after all.”

  Begg said nothing but his gaze was watchful.

  “You will be thinking of the best thing for the townspeople, I know,” Drew added, his voice quiet but still audible. “Rest assured, I am not seeking any discount on price—in fact your assistance will ensure I pay the very best price. It would only be a case of saying, Mr. So-and-so plans to pay such-and-such an amount, and I shall be sure to offer more. The city will profit as best it might from such an arrangement. And you will also be compensated for your time.”

  Begg considered that. At length he said, “The Council would get the highest possible price available.” It was not a question.

  “Correct.”

  “It is… an interesting proposition,” Begg said. His attention flickered back to the dancers circling the floor. Drew glanced in the same direction, just in time to see Marguerite twirling past with Mr. Bainbridge. Distractedly, Begg added, “I will give it some thought, Mr. Niven. I cannot say fairer than that. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He offered a slight bow and strolled away, leaving Drew and Lindsay gazing after him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Drew turned to Lindsay once Begg was gone. He was about to ask Lindsay for his thoughts, but then he saw how grey and haggard Lindsay was, and how heavily he was leaning on his cane, and the words died in his throat.

  “What?” Lindsay said with faint irritation. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Drew studied him unhappily. “Do you feel unwell?”

  “I’m just tired,” Lindsay said. “I need to sit.” He sounded breathless, a faint wheeze in his voice. His gaze began to wander about the ballroom, presumably searching for a chair.

  “There are no free chairs in here,” Drew said. “Come with me. I saw some benches outside the ballroom.” Without waiting for a response, he took Lindsay’s elbow in a gentle grip and steered him towards the large open doors, hoping it would be quiet on the upper landing.

  Lindsay didn’t argue with him—which was itself entirely out of character. He allowed Drew to lead him out of the ballroom and into the quiet corridor outside, where Drew guided him to a small, unoccupied wooden bench in the shadows.

  “Sit down here. Do you want me to fetch you something to drink?”

  Lindsay shook his head. “I just need to rest for a bit. I’ve overdone it.” He braced his right hand on his cane and slowly lowered himself down onto the bench, closing his eyes.

  Drew sat down beside him, eyeing him anxiously. Lindsay’s skin had an ashen cast to it.

  Lindsay raised a hand and passed it wearily over his newly short hair. All these long years, whenever Drew thought of Lindsay, he’d pictured him with long hair—dark, silken tresses tumbling over his shoulders.

  He didn’t look himself with short hair. There was something bare and vulnerable about him—though in fairness, that wasn’t just about his hair. His obvious physical frailty was disturbing. Oddly, though, it was contradicted by a newly determined quality that shone out of him, despite his physical limitations.

  He seemed, in a strange way, more at peace with himself than he’d ever been. And so… certain. Certain as to his objectives and the path he was taking to fulfil them.

  Drew realised suddenly that Lindsay was looking at him, his expression both puzzled and careful. He shifted his arm in the black silk sling, drawing Drew’s eye.

  “I see you are wearing the Wolfsbane again,” Drew said, unable to help himself commenting on the fact.

  Lindsay gave a curt nod. “As I said last night, I wear it every day. I must sever the bond completely. I have to be ready when Duncan comes.”

  Drew snorted incredulously. “I don’t see how doing this to yourself makes you more ready to face Duncan. For Christ’s sake, Lindsay, he’s a full-strength wolf and you’re as weak as a bloody kitten. You can’t even stand on your own two feet a quarter hour! What good will it do you to be able to say no to him when you’ve no physical strength to back it up?”

  Lindsay studied him, his eyes moving over Drew’s face. He still appeared quite calm, damn him.

  “I am physically weak,” he admitted. “But when it comes to Duncan, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been. Strong to the depths of my soul. To the core of me. After all, the Wolfsbane is going to cut me off from my greatest weakness.”

  “Me, you mean?” Drew said, stupidly hurt.

  Lindsay blinked. “No, I—” His face worked strangely and Drew could scent shame and disgust. Lindsay looked away. “I mean my cur.”

  “Cur?” Drew repeated. “What are you talking about?”

  Lindsay was quiet a moment, then he said, so quietly Drew could barely hear him, “When I was with Duncan, he reduced me to the basest creature you can possibly imagine. A subservient crawling thing.”

  Drew eyed him uneasily. Lindsay sounded as though he hated this creature.

  “Duncan abused you sorely,” he said carefully. “And you could do nothing but obey.”

  “You don’t understand,” Lindsay said. “I lost myself entirely during those years. I was broken to nothing. A mindless beast.” He smiled weakly, finally meeting Drew’s eyes again. “I hope you never understand. No one should know such things.”

  Drew ached. He didn’t want Lindsay to know these things either. And he didn’t want him to hate his own poor crawling wolf.

  “But when the bond is severed,” Lindsay went on, more firmly, “I can finally escape that cur forever.”

  Drew wasn’t sure that was true. Memories could still hurt you, even when the events in question were long over. But he didn’t say anything, just sat beside Lindsay, offering his warmth and presence.

  “And you know,” Lindsay said in a more cheerful tone. “When the bond is fully severed, you will be in an interesting position. You will be a wolf without a master and no one will have the power to compel you.” He gave a lopsided grin, “Though I wouldn’t recommend defying any of Marguerite’s direct orders.”

  Drew realised he was supposed to laugh at that. Joke and tease in return. But he couldn’t seem to make his mouth move, or any other part of him for that matter.

  At last he said, his voice gruff, “You’ve done a good job of changing the subject, but I haven’t forgotten the question I asked you: how do you propose to face down Duncan in your present state? He won’t need to have the power to compel you to subdue you utterly. He could knock you down with a feather right now.”

  Lindsay’s eyes seemed to glow with some fire then. “Oh, he can knock me down with whatever he likes—he can beat me senseless, even kill me—but he won’t be able to make me obey him against my will. Not anymore.”

  …even kill me.

  A surge of nausea swept over Drew. “Well,” he said tightly, “if you can’t protect yourself, I will have to do it for you.”

  Lindsay was silent a moment. Then he said, quietly, “No, that won’t be happening.”


  Drew glared at him. “Why not?”

  “I’m doing this for you as much as myself. It’s not just that I want to be free of Duncan—I want you to be free of me. It rather misses the point if you insist on sticking by my side. Duncan will just use you to make me do what he wants—and it will work.”

  “You don’t have much faith in me, do you?” Drew said bitterly.

  “On the contrary—I have every faith in you,” Lindsay replied gently. “But Duncan is a monster and if you are there, he will use my attachment to you to his advantage. I can’t risk that. There is only one way for me to deal with him—alone. Face to face.”

  Drew opened his mouth to point out that once the bond was gone, Lindsay’s attachment to Drew ought to disappear too, but in the end, he held the words back. Lindsay would only deny it. Say his feelings came before the bond.

  A small voice inside Drew said, What if Lindsay is right?

  What if Drew was wrong?

  The panic that filled him at that thought was too much to bear and he thrust it aside quickly, like a burning thing, turning his attention to Lindsay again. Lindsay who looked so at peace with all this. How could he be so calm?

  “This is madness,” Drew said unhappily. You have no chance against Duncan.”

  “I have a considerably better chance than I have ever had before.”

  “A better chance of what? Death?”

  Lindsay laughed softly. “Perhaps—it depends what your definition of success is.”

  Drew stood up then, staring down at Lindsay in horror. “How can you say such things?” he whispered.

  For the first time, Lindsay’s expression hardened. His lips thinned and he glanced away, though he said nothing.

  “Lindsay—”

  Lindsay met his gaze again, and his expression was harder now. “Do you remember the last time we saw one another? In Venice? What you said?”

  Drew blinked, taken aback by the change of subject. “Sorry?”

  “The last conversation we had,” Lindsay said again. “Do you remember it?”

  Of course he did. At least he remembered Lindsay’s last words with perfect clarity, and the bleak expression in his eyes as he uttered them.

  “I may not be able to free you, Drew, but I can, at least, stay away from you from now on.”

  He closed his eyes against the memory. The pain of that moment—and he’d asked for it, for Lindsay to stay away.

  “No?” Lindsay said, misunderstanding Drew’s silence. “Let me remind you. You told me you wanted me to free you. That you wanted to stop craving me, to stop feeling my desire for you.” He paused. “Not to be a slave anymore.”

  Drew didn’t say anything. He’d uttered some version of those words to Lindsay many times over the years. The last time had only been one such conversation. Drew hadn’t thought much anything of it. Hadn’t thought there was anything different or new about that occasion that would change anything. But after that night, Lindsay had embarked upon a course of action designed to give Drew exactly what he wanted.

  Freedom from Lindsay.

  Drew rubbed his chest. “You are asking me to abandon you,” he whispered.

  Lindsay sighed. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said. Then he braced his hand on top of his cane and slowly, painfully, got to his feet. Once he’d straightened, he looked Drew in the eye. “How can you be abandoning me when, until two days ago, I hadn’t seen you in twelve years? Any abandoning happened a very long time ago.” Lindsay was still smiling but there was old hurt in his eyes.

  Oh, Christ, Drew couldn’t be wrong. He couldn’t. What would it mean if he were?

  When he realised Drew wasn’t going to reply, Lindsay sighed. “Well, I’ve done my part for the night,” he said wearily. “I’m going home.”

  It hadn’t even been an hour since Lindsay had arrived, but Drew could see the exhaustion in the faint stoop of his shoulders and in the lines that bracketed the sides of his mouth.

  Drew stood. “I’ll walk you back.”

  Lindsay waved him off, irritation in every line of his elegant body. “You came to meet Begg. You need to stay.”

  “It’s not far to your house,” Drew replied. “Barely five minutes’ walk.”

  “Exactly!” Lindsay said, his voice laced with exasperation. “There is absolutely no need for—”

  “As I said, you’re as weak as a kitten,” Drew interrupted flatly. “I’m taking you home and that’s it. It won’t take long.”

  Lindsay opened his mouth to protest again, but then he caught sight of Drew’s face and sighed. Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Fine. Go and tell Marguerite then, while I make my way downstairs. I’ll see you at the front door.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Drew returned to the ballroom where he found Marguerite with a group of gentlemen that included Begg and Wynne—who must have arrived in the last few minutes.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen. I must borrow my lovely wife for a moment,” Drew said. “Do not worry. I shall return her to you momentarily.”

  There was some good-natured grumbling and laughter as he drew her aside.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked quietly as they strolled.

  “No, it’s merely that Lindsay is exhausted. I’m going to take him back to Albany Street. I won’t be gone long.”

  Marguerite halted, forcing Drew to stop too. He thought she might argue with him, but after eyeing him for several moments, she nodded. “All right,” she said. “You need not rush back. I have snared Mr. Begg for the supper dance, which is the one after this. I will tell him you have been called away”—she quirked a smile—“It will give me an excuse to have a nice long tête-à-tête with him.”

  Drew smiled back dutifully, but the truth was, he didn’t care what Marguerite would be doing. All he could think about was Lindsay, waiting for him outside, frail and exhausted.

  Marguerite sighed. “Go then,” she said. “Just be back before the last dancing set begins. I may want you to insist that I dance it with you—we will see how things go.”

  Drew nodded, not even bothering to ask her why. His mind was already on Lindsay. He wouldn’t put it past him to slip out of the Assembly Rooms and make his way home without waiting for Drew, and the way he’d looked a few minutes ago, he’d be keeling over halfway home if he tried.

  Drew delivered Marguerite back to her admirers, pausing only to offer Wynne a quick nod, before he strode out of the ballroom again, heading for the stairs.

  He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or alarmed when he glanced down and found that Lindsay was almost at the bottom of the staircase, carefully descending the final steps, his movements slow and pained, his grip on his cane very tight.

  He was moving like an old man.

  Swallowing against a sudden obstruction in his throat, Drew made his own way down, slowing his pace to allow Lindsay to complete the journey before him.

  At the bottom he asked, his tone brisk, “Are you ready to go?”

  Lindsay sighed wearily. “Very.”

  “Good. Shall we take the carriage? It’ll be quicker.”

  Lindsay sent him a hard look. “I’m perfectly capable of walking for five minutes, Drew.”

  Drew sighed. “Very well. Let’s go.”

  It took them fifteen minutes. Fifteen slow and painful minutes. For the last few of them, Lindsay even allowed Drew to put his arm around him and take a bit of his weight.

  “You’re bad tonight,” Drew said as they finally turned onto Albany Street.

  “Yes,” Lindsay whispered, and in that moment, Drew was swamped by the conviction that Lindsay was killing himself. It was a thought that filled him with wild, panicky fear, but he didn’t know what to do about it. How to persuade Lindsay that he must stop.

  He knew that Lindsay would not stop.

  When they finally reached the front door, Drew reached for the bellpull. A moment later the young manservant from the previous day opened the door, stepping aside to let them enter the hallway be
fore discreetly withdrawing.

  Lindsay turned to face Drew, his face drawn and exhausted, but determined. “You need to get back to the assembly,” he said. “But thank you for seeing me home.”

  “I’m in no hurry,” Drew replied, shrugging. “Marguerite doesn’t need me—she plans to monopolise Begg for the next hour or two. He’s panting after her like a faithful hound already.”

  He stepped forward, reaching for the buttons on Lindsay’s greatcoat.

  “What are you doing?” Lindsay said irritably.

  “Getting your coat off. Once I’ve accomplished that, I’ll take you upstairs.”

  “Take me—”

  “Carry you,” Drew clarified calmly. “You’re not fit for another flight of steps tonight, Lindsay. You need rest—and to get that damned concoction off your arm.”

  Lindsay sighed. “I’m not taking it off—”

  “Yes, you are,” Drew said firmly. “You can’t keep wearing Wolfsbane every day and all night too. At some point, this is going to damage you beyond all repairing.”

  Their gazes met. Neither of them said what they both knew: that Lindsay was well aware of that and had already accepted the inevitable consequences of his actions. The fact was, Wolfsbane was a strong poison, capable of killing even an old and powerful wolf quickly in a large enough quantity. Lindsay could only keep dosing himself like this for so long before the poison had a permanent effect on him.

  Lindsay pressed his lips together, saying nothing. His expression was stubborn. Christ, he was wilful, Drew thought. Wilful and spoiled, even at near two centuries old.

  But perhaps there was a way to get Lindsay to do what he wanted without fighting the point tooth and nail?

  Drew lifted his hand and touched Lindsay’s cheek, making the man startle. Lindsay glanced at him with wide, wary eyes.

  “One night, Lindsay,” he murmured. “Give your wolf a rest for one night, I beg you. Please. For me.”