Imprisoned at Werewolf Keep (Werewolf Keep Trilogy)

by Nhys Glover

  ‘You make me feel alive in a way I have never known before. When you were gone, food tasted like dust and the world was grey. Only when you are with me do my senses come alive. I am starting to believe that I might have fallen in love with you, Lord Jasper. I certainly already love your wolf for saving me that night.

  ‘I do not think I could have given myself to you as I did, if I did not hold such affection for you. But I do not expect…’

  ‘Dee, stop,’ Jasper interrupted her firmly.

  Her heart sank at the tone. But when he went on, his voice was warm and passionate.

  ‘I am madly, head-over-heels-in-love with you. Do you think I would have done the outrageous things I have if that was not the case? It has never been about how I feel for you. That has been a given. It has always been about what I deserved. And I do not deserve your love, if that is what you think you feel for me.’

  Fidelia smiled hopefully. ‘We cannot choose those we love. But if we could, I would choose to love you. Everything I know about you reinforces that feeling. Now that I know your deepest darkest secret, it only serves to reinforce my feelings. You may not believe you deserve my love, but love you I do. But if you feel the need to earn my love by showering me with gifts, keepsakes and romantic words, feel free to do so. I will not complain too loudly.’ She let her lips quirk up at the side to convey her sarcasm.

  The hall reverberated with Jasper’s belly laughs as he spun her around in his arms, barely missing the covered furniture as he did so. When they were both giddy, he put her gently back onto her feet and hugged her tightly.

  ‘You, Lady Montgomery, are far too good for me.’ He kissed her lips tenderly.

  ‘I know. But what can I do? I am in love with your wolf, and you happen to come as part of the arrangement. I will cope.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jasper held her close to his side as they ventured down into the dungeons below the Keep. Jamey had stoked up the furnace and the heat was almost too intense to bear in the dark, stone-hewn tunnels. Behind them came Phil and Byron. Fidelia was relieved that her friend would be on hand during the upcoming challenge.

  This was it. This was when they found out if she had been turned by the blood she had ingested. Fidelia was still not sure whether she would be pleased or saddened if it turned out that she was still human. In all events, she would be happy with the outcome, as long as Jasper was still at her side.

  Over the last weeks, she had come to realise just how right she had been when she declared her love for him that afternoon in the Great Hall. Her feelings for him seemed to grow with each passing day, and though they had agreed not to make love again until she was sure she wanted to stay with him, there was no doubt in her mind what her decision would be. Werewolf of not, she would stay at Breckenhill Keep with Jasper.

  At the entrance to the women’s tunnel, Jasper kissed her tenderly. ‘See you in the morning.’

  She smiled. ‘See you tomorrow. Try not to make too much noise.’

  ‘These males are awful loud with their howlin’,’ Ellen said from her position in Will’s arms. ‘Keeps a body awake, it does.’

  Will barked out a laugh. ‘Prattle on old woman, you should hear it from our end. You’re just as noisy as wolves as you are as women. Gives a mon a pain in the head to listen to you.’

  ‘What say you, Phil? Do the men howl more than us?’ Charlotte asked, poking her head back out of the tunnel that led to the women’s cells. She looked positively impish in the light given off by the furnace.

  ‘Leave me out of this. From upstairs you all sound the same to me.’ Phil gave a little laugh as she took Fidelia’s hand and began to lead her toward the tunnel.

  ‘Do not be afraid. It is just like falling asleep,’ Jasper called to her one last time, his voice edged with anxiety.

  ‘I am not afraid. Go, do not be caught out of your cell this month,’ Fidelia said, brushing the air as if to send him on his way.

  ‘You are here. Why would I want to be anywhere else?’

  ‘Enough. Get moving, Jas. Will has yet to get back down the tunnel. Your long goodbyes are creating a bottleneck.’ Byron gave Jasper a good-natured shove in the right direction.

  ‘We need more cells,’ Charlotte said, ignoring Byron completely. ‘There will only be one left in the women’s section if Fidelia turns tonight. I, for one, will not be sharing my quarters with anyone if we become over-crowded.’

  ‘There are plans already underway for a new wing,’ Byron said gruffly. ‘We start on it as soon as the weather improves.’

  ‘Good to know.’ With a haughty lift of her nose, the black-haired beauty turned and sauntered off down the tunnel as if she was on her way to a garden party. Fidelia couldn’t contain her chuckle. They seemed to be very cheery tonight. From everything she’d been told, the atmosphere was usually much more bleak. Were they trying to keep her spirits up? If so, it was working. All she felt was a skittering sense of excitement deep in her stomach, like a swarm of moths had got loose in there.

  In only a few minutes, the inmates were all in their cells and had begun to remove their clothing. Fidelia folded hers and handed them out to Phil while trying to keep from looking at the other naked women. To think she had never been truly naked since a month ago. Now she stood completely unclothed with barely a moment’s unease.

  Phil lifted her gaze to Fidelia’s. ‘I will be right here. If you do not turn, I will hand you back your clothes and we will go upstairs and have a nice cup of tea.’

  ‘I know. And if I do, I will see you tomorrow morning and we will go upstairs and have a nice cup of tea. Or coffee, I think. Do not worry, Phil, I am doing well with all this. It is an adventure. I may never have been the adventurous type in our school-girl years, but I have found I have quite a taste for it recently.’ She grinned and stepped away from the bars so that Phil could continue collecting the clothes from the other women.

  Sitting on the cold stone bench naked was out of the question, so she began to pace as the other women were now doing. Though she felt only excitement a moment ago, now she felt the first claws of fear sinking into her belly.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several of the other women drop to the ground, as if into a swoon. Then, between one blink of an eye and the next, they transformed into large sleeping wolves. Fascinated, she turned to watch the others drop to the floor and turn. It didn’t look painful at all. That thought gave her confidence.

  She turned back to Phil, who hovered in the tunnel entrance closest to her cell. She lifted her eyebrows in a question.

  ‘It should have happened. They all turn within minutes of each other. I…I think you are safe.’ Phil moved closer and put her hands on the bars.

  ‘Just another minute or two, just to make sure. I do not want to wake up and find I no longer have a best friend.’ Fidelia grimaced comically.

  But as the slow minutes dragged on, and the wolves began to get to their wobbly feet, it was apparent that no such change was going to happen to Fidelia. Sighing with relief, Phil unlocked her cell and led the way back down the tunnel. Here Byron and Jamey awaited her, and the look they sent her told Fidelia more than words ever could that they were over-joyed that she hadn’t turned.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt. It was all a bit of an anti-climax. For the last month, she had lived with the thought that she might become one of these mythical creatures. Now, it was apparent that she wouldn’t. She was just as human as she ever was.

  Later, Fidelia lay in her bed with Maude tucked up at her side. The old woman was too fragile to be left to sleep alone with the howls echoing up from the depths below. Her maid had claimed it was to assure herself of Fidelia’s safety that she wanted to remain at her side overnight, but Fidelia knew better. Maude still had trouble with the whole idea that her mistress might have become a werewolf, and that the handsome young suitor she so heartily approved of actually was a werewolf.

  Even so, Maude fell asleep almost instantly and didn’t budge, no
matter how loud and mournful the howling became as the night progressed.

  By morning, Fidelia felt like days had passed since she’d last seen the sun. If she’d slept at all, she had no recollection of it. Climbing to her feet, she crept over to her robe and threw it on. She had no desire to go through the long and tiresome activity of dressing quite yet. But she did need a cup of coffee. It might be just what she needed to wake herself up enough to greet her lover and break the news to him.

  How would Jasper feel about her not being a werewolf? He would be glad, certainly. But would he then begin his campaign to drive her away again? She hoped not. Even though she now knew that the nights of the full moon were going to be torturous to bear, she had no desire to turn tail and run. This was her new home. This was where she experienced the full wealth of sensorial and emotional extremes. Here, she was not a sepia image of a porcelain doll. In this wild Keep, she was a woman, fully alive, fully loved.

  As she brewed her own coffee over the wood stove in the huge kitchen, her toes freezing, even with her slippers on, she heard approaching footsteps. Male booted footsteps. Then arms wrapped around her and kissed her neck hungrily, greedily, and she giggled under the onslaught.

  ‘Jasper, you nearly made me spill the coffee. Do you want a cup?’ she asked, as if it was just any morning.

  ‘Byron told me as soon as I came back to myself. I could not get out of there fast enough. Come with me, woman… I need you… Now!’

  She held back the delighted giggle that bubbled up from deep inside her. So he wasn’t going to drive her away. It seemed as if he wanted her now, even more desperately.

  But she wouldn’t make it easy for him. The razor’s edge he’d made her walk this last month deserved a little pay back.

  ‘But you wanted to wait…’ she said as she continued to pour the black brew into her porcelain cup.

  ‘Have you changed your mind? Now you know you are not going to turn, have you decided to have a real life away from here?’ The pain in his voice reminded her that she had sworn never to play games with him again.

  She put down the coffee jug and turned to face the wild-eyed man. The wolf was still there, she could sense it and see it in his bright-blue tortured eyes. Fidelia reached out and raked her fingers through his unkempt hair, enjoying the texture as it slid over her skin. Even something as small as this felt wonderful.

  ‘The only real life I have ever had has been here. You know that. Werewolf or not, I plan to remain at the Keep with you, if you still want me, now that you know I am just an ordinary woman.’

  ‘Did you not hear me, my love? I want you more than my next breath. And there is nothing ordinary about you. Come on. My wolf is driving me hard. Come to my room.’

  With a little laugh, she left her coffee and let him drag her out of the kitchen. In the state he was in, she knew their joining would be hard and wild. That thought was enough to have her hurrying as fast as he wanted her to go. It felt like forever since they’d been one. And this time, it would be as equals, with no secrets and no regrets.

  When they were finally behind closed doors, Jasper spun her into his arms and began devouring her mouth as he tore at her robe with desperate hands. Laughing, she began working on the buttons of his shirt.

  ‘My lord, you are as wild as a beast,’ she said between kisses.

  ‘My love, so are you! And you have no idea how much that pleases me.’

  ‘You do not want a lady in your bed?’

  ‘Not a straight-laced prim one, no. But a passionate lady who knows her own body and mind…Most certainly. And if that lady is willing, might she consider marrying me when her time of mourning is over?’

  ‘I am quite prepared to withstand the scandal of marrying before my mourning period is over, if you want me.’

  He kissed her again hungrily as the robe fell to the floor, pressing his hot hands to the naked flesh beneath. ‘Want you? Is there any doubt left in your mind that I want you? Need you? Love you? And would marry you tomorrow if I could.’

  ‘Let us wait for my parents to return from the continent. You said there was to be a ball in spring. That might be a perfect time for a wedding.’

  ‘Can we discuss this later? I have more pressing matters on my mind right now…’ He was nibbling his way down her neck, setting off spot fires wherever he went.

  She considered teasing him further with more talk of weddings, but decided against it. He was not the only one who was wild with need in that moment. Her world sparked bright and vivid, and she smiled with the overwhelming joy of every moment of it.

  Grand Passion this was! Grand Passion indeed!

  AUTHOR NOTE

  For me, every book I write is a joy. And when others enjoy reading my books I feel an added sense of elation. That was particularly the case for me when a brilliant young writer called Blakely Chorpenning offered to betaread this one, and then gave me rave reviews. Her suggestions have also made this a better book. I recommend her edgy paranormal novels to anyone who loves wonderful writing.

  I love to hear from my readers (you’ll find my email details at www.nhysglover.com) and get a kick out of reading reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. If you enjoyed this book please consider leaving your feedback for other readers (and me). It does make a difference.

  The last of the Werewolf Keep Trilogy, Defiance at Werewolf Keep, is not far away. It’s Will’s story, and he is definitely my favourite of the Keep heroes.

  To keep you going until then, why not try my other paranormal novel, a romantic ghost story called The Way Home. To whet your appetite I’ve included an excerpt here. I hope you like it.

  PROLOGUE

  October 1940, Leconfield, Yorkshire, ENGLAND

  What it was about the large farmhouse Hawk did not know, but from the first moment he crossed its threshold, he felt at home. Its thick, stone walls embraced him; its low beams protected him.

  Homesickness or nostalgia couldn’t account for his feelings, because the place was very different from its counterparts at home. Nothing in England reminded him of Poland.

  ‘Come in, come in, don’t stand there like statue,’ the farmer demanded, his gruff Yorkshire accent softened by his friendly tone. He looked to be in his fifties, although there was the fragility of old age about him, too, as if his body had worn out earlier than it should.

  ‘You do understand me, don’t ye? I know ye’re foreign an’ all…’

  Hawk grinned and nodded. Although the man’s accent was strong, he understood it well enough. ‘I speak English. We had to learn it before they would let us up in their planes.’

  The farmer nodded sagely, still waiting for him to move into the house more fully. Hawk wanted to savour the moment like a fine liqueur, letting the taste remain on his tongue, breathing it in through his nose.

  There was mustiness in the air that spoke of a damp space kept closed up for too long, and the smell of furniture polish and wet dog. There was also the odour of manure that had accompanied them in from the farmyard. None of the individual scents he identified gave him sensations of pleasure, but in combination, they affected him pleasantly.

  He’d grown up in the city and rural life was alien to him. Mostly, it worried him with its isolation. But not here, not in this farmhouse. Here, the rural setting suited him. Here, the isolation felt comfortable, as if he could be wholly himself for the first time, without the intrusion of others. The sound of aircraft landing and taking off nearby only added to the feeling of home.

  ‘Is it shell shock ye’re sufferin’?’ The farmer was staring at him now, his deeply lined brow puckered with concern.

  Hawk gave himself a mental shake and smiled at the man again. ‘Sorry, no. It is just this house. I feel like I know it… or it knows me. I sound like a crazy person, I know. Would you prefer I left?’

  He didn’t want to leave – not now, not ever, a little voice in his head said. If the man began to worry about Hawk’s sanity, however, it might be better. They didn’t want to get a bad r
eputation with the locals. Already, the man might see him as an intruder. After all, Hawk had wandered up his long drive to the farmhouse for no reason other than he wanted to know what was at the end of the road. He hadn’t been invited onto the property until the farmer had seen him and offered him welcome.

  ‘Nah then, lad, don’t be daft. I invited thee, didn’t I? And our Mildred’ll give me a right say-so if I let thee go before tha’ve had a cup o’ tea. We’ve heard about thee lads, the 303 Squadron.’

  The man had turned and begun walking down the dark hallway, talking all the while. Hawk couldn’t draw the moment out any longer. He had to follow along behind the farmer or be considered rude.

  He took several long, striding steps to catch up with the Yorkshire man. ‘Yes. We were rotated out to Leconfield from Northolt for a break. Six weeks we have been in the air.’

  ‘One hundred and twenty-six kills in six weeks, they’re sayin’. Impressive, and we aren’t impressed by foreigners easy in these parts.’

  ‘We lost eighteen Hurricanes, seven pilots, and we have five more badly wounded. That is not so impressive.’

  ‘If I told thee the losses we took at the Somme, thee’d think twice about that.’ The man’s voice was hollow, as if it came from a long way away, a lifetime away.

  ‘You survived the Great War?’

  ‘Aye. Lucky’s what I was, nowt but lucky. The mustard gas got ta ma lungs, but nowt bad. Now ‘ere’s our Mildred…’

  They’d made it to the back of the house by now and entered the big country kitchen with its wooden table in the centre and flagstones on the floor. A big black range burned hot against the far wall. Hawk could feel its heat from where he stood. A small window over the sink was open, as was the back door, probably because it was midday and the sun was shining. The cool air from outside also balanced the heat inside a little.