Kisses to Steal

by Tilly Wallace

  "Treason," Ianthe whispered. She had almost forgotten Quinn's admission of an ulterior motive in tricking his way into her home and heart. "It seems so mundane after talk of Unnaturals and devouring of souls."

  "Sometime we forget there is a larger war going on across the Channel. We still fight the French, we are not ordinary folk against Unnaturals. There are those who plot to separate England from her allies, so she stands alone on the battlefield of Europe. Or worse, there are rumours of a supernatural weapon to be unleashed upon us. The Wolves work to discover the particulars of these plots so they can be stopped." Aster paused and rose to pace the small parlour as she expounded on her story.

  Ianthe didn't need Aster to say another word as events tumbled through her mind and revealed themselves. She knew of the late-night meetings Phillip and Septimus held in this room. She had never asked what they spoke of, but heated words often broke through the solid door. After Septimus left, she would disperse unburned papers in the grate with the poker. Occasionally Phillip would mutter phrases when deeply asleep. She had an inkling of what they discussed, and a small slip of paper rubbed against her breast, reminding her of its presence. A tiny scrap that Phillip had hidden in his waistcoat, perhaps to pass to Septimus at a meeting he never made.

  Worry lines pulled at Aster's eyes as she met Ianthe's gaze. "You walk a dangerous path, Ianthe, but you do not need to walk it alone. The Highland Wolves stand shoulder to shoulder and they would keep you safe. You have only to ask. I beg of you, do not be proud in this. Reach out and we will protect you and ensure Hoth pays for all of his crimes."

  A sob welled up in Ianthe's chest. These were the words that should have been spoken to Alice. This was the support the courtesan should have received, which might have saved her mind and the remnants of her tattered soul. We will keep you safe. Her battered heart swelled as she realised that some things were more valuable than a stack of gold sovereigns. Aster offered her friendship and her family, and she asked for nothing in return.

  Then sadness moistened her eyes. "Have you forgotten that Quinn and I parted on angry terms? I wounded his heart and his pride."

  Aster held Ianthe's hands tight, her gaze earnest and open. "I assure you that neither his heart nor his pride have suffered a fatal blow. Quinn loves you, but is determined to let you live your life as you want. Wolves are an exceedingly loyal family and would welcome you. All you have to do is seek Quinn out and ask. The men are ready to lay a trap for Hoth and you are uniquely positioned to help."

  Ianthe had spurned Quinn and pushed him away with cruel words. How could she now seek him out for help? Her profession wove glamours around men, and used soft words and heated looks to subtly direct their actions. But for once, she was at a loss how to approach a man. "I spurned him because I was too afraid to believe what he offered could be real. If I decide to not be a coward, how do I undo the damage inflicted?"

  "Why, that bit is easy. Pain is undone by loving someone, accepting that they make mistakes, and apologising. None of us is perfect. You need to meet Aunt Maggie. Her husband was also a wolf and she has learned innumerable ways to handle them. At times I swear they are more hedgehog than wolf; they can be rather prickly." Aster rose and prepared to leave. "But promise me you'll do one thing? Seek Quinn out, meet his gaze, look into your heart, and be honest about what you find."

  The grandfather clock struck the hour, reminding Ianthe of how her time was running out. Her days ran down into hours. Soon it would be mere minutes until Septimus stood in the bedroom upstairs and took her body. But what would he do to her soul? How desperate had Alice been, to tear hers into pieces and scatter them on the wind? Ianthe wanted to grab the pendulum and stop time so she could think.

  Instead, she folded Aster into an embrace. "Thank you. I will think upon it, I promise," she whispered.

  24

  Ianthe

  * * *

  Ianthe stood at the window and watched Aster leave. Ewan helped her up into the hackney. His gaze met hers through the thick glass and he nodded, before hopping up next to the woman. Behind her, the library door opened and she turned to find Sarah and Perkins. They appeared to be blocking her exit.

  "Well?" the abigail asked. "What are you going to do?"

  Ianthe leaned against the side of the window. Why did the world keep spinning as the seconds carried her to Septimus's feet? She needed time to think, to plan, and for her infernal headache to go away. "I don't know what you mean. Are you two listening at keyholes again?"

  Perkins snorted and Sarah rolled her eyes. Familiarity really did breed contempt. After eight years, the pair had no idea of their proper place.

  "I don't need to listen at a keyhole to see you're miserable." Sarah placed her hands on her hips, as though she were about to scold a child.

  "I'm just tired," Ianthe said, although from the looks on their faces, neither believed that was the sole reason for her drawn appearance. How to tell them the world pressed upon her and she didn't know how to shift the burden? No, she did know what to do, but she found her pride a bitter pill to swallow.

  "You two had a tiff, you cried all night, and you look horrid. You're not the first couple to argue. Lord knows Mr Perkins and I have had our fair share. But now you need to go find the lad, make up and bring him home." Sarah stepped to one side and waved at the door. Ianthe suspected Perkins was hiding a bonnet and spencer behind his back.

  "It's not that simple, and our tiff was only yesterday. I can't go running after him the very next day." What had they even argued about? Alice and Hoth, the unfair ways of society, and then Quinn had tried to command her. Really, she shouldn't be the one to apologise for that, even if she did call him a child and a puppy.

  Seeing Alice alone and fragile in the cold asylum had brought all sorts of fears and concerns to the surface. Anger welled up in Ianthe, but not just at Hoth, who hid behind his wealth and position. She was angry with herself for turning a blind eye while Septimus slowly broke the woman into pieces, and furious that her motivation to find Alice had been selfish. She had wanted to know more about Septimus; she hadn't been moved by genuine concern. Not at first. Now, finding a way to make amends preyed on her mind. Or did she only want to prove that she wasn't a shallow creature?

  Yesterday, her frustration had erupted into heated words at Quinn. If she were honest with herself, deep inside she was terrified of ending up the same as Alice. A broken shell, discarded by an uncaring hand, and whose absence from the world would go unnoticed.

  Everyone kept telling Ianthe there was a simple solution. Find Quinn.

  The vision flashed through her mind again. The stallion charged across a lush green paddock. The man leaned on a stone wall and watched the equine antics. He didn't need to turn for her to recognise him now. The height, broad shoulders and wild, unruly hair all belonged to Quinn.

  Did the new vision mean the wolf would be victorious in its battle against the shadow demon? Or was it a cruel lure, dangled to induce her to make the wrong decision?

  Aster asked Ianthe to gaze within and be sincere with what she discovered. What would Ianthe find if she sorted through the turmoil and separated out her concern for Alice and rage on her behalf? She realised it wasn't an issue of changing her mind; she had known all along how she felt about Quinn, she just didn't want to admit to it. Then her pride had taken a blow that he sought to dictate the course of her life and tell her what she could do.

  "Oh, you are quite right," Sarah said, interrupting Ianthe's meandering journey through her troubled mind. "I forgot that you absolutely can't go find the man you love the day after a disagreement. There's that rule about making them wait a week. Or is it a month, Mr Perkins?"

  "Year," Perkins said from under raised eyebrows.

  Sarah patted her husband's arm. "Thank you. Yes, you must let him stew for at least a year. In fact, I would probably give him longer. Everyone keeps saying the pup is far too young. Let him mature a bit, like one of those fancy wines."

  "Ten ye
ars," Perkins offered, becoming quite the chatterbox.

  Sarah clasped a hand to her chest, as though her husband had just made the most astute observation ever. "Oh, brilliant, Mr Perkins. Yes, ten years. Something better will probably come along anyway. Richer, with a nice title. Perhaps one that knows how to sit on a chair, rather than sprawling over everything."

  "Oh, honestly, Quinn does not need to mature," Ianthe snapped. Really, people needed to stop judging Quinn by his age and see the depth of character underneath. "And I happen to quite like the way his tall form sprawls all over my furniture." Actually there were a number of things she liked about his form and what her hands found under his clothing.

  "What about the money? How will we ever pay the rent? We'll all be living in a gutter by week's end." Sarah threw up her hands in mock despair and Perkins gave a sad shake of his head and turned his pockets inside out to reveal empty linings.

  "Dreams can happen, if you hold on to them," Ianthe whispered. She could spend a day, a week, or even ten years counting all the reasons why she and Quinn could never be together. But they really only needed one reason to try. Love. The very idea terrified her and made her world spin out of control, but if there were any sliver of a chance that her vision could become a reality, she would try. She wanted Quinn standing in that meadow beside her, and no one else.

  "I'm going out," she said to her two retainers. With a decision made, Ianthe held tight to the vision and uttered a silent prayer that this time, the mage-blood gave her a true glimpse of the future to help her chose her path.

  Sarah tried to both look surprised and hide her smirk. "Oh, well, if you think you must, then."

  Ianthe changed into her riding habit and struck out for the stables. Today they were unusually quiet and the normal bustle and activity was absent. Constance called out from her stall, and Ianthe stroked the mare's muzzle and leaned in for a kiss. Her gaze sought out the other familiar face and her heart squeezed when she did not find him. She crossed to his stall, thinking the stallion might be lying down and having a quiet snooze. Looking through the railing, she found the straw undisturbed and the stall empty. Perhaps the staff had moved him while they mucked out?

  "Galahad?" Ianthe spun around, seeking his grey face and silver mane. Heads poked over doors, but none was the right one.

  Davie, the head groom, appeared from the tack room, a saddle in his arms and a bridle over his shoulder. He always had a cheery smile for her. "Oh, Miss Wynn, good day to you."

  "Davie, where is Galahad? I need him tacked up." She scanned each stall, one by one, but still there was no sign of him. Perhaps they had put him in the school for a bit of turn-out?

  "Oh." His face fell and he placed the saddle over a stall door. "He's been sold. Some gent took him this morning."

  "No." She reached out for a stable wall to hold herself upright, while her world disappeared from under her. The news was like a punch to her stomach, and she doubled over as tears sprang to her eyes. Not Galahad. He was part of her vision. If he were gone, the rest would dissolve into ocean mist. Her blood cursed her yet again and pulled the rug out from under her feet.

  "I'm ever so sorry. We all knew how much you wanted him." Davie’s tone softened and he moved closer to pat her shoulder.

  "Who? Do you know? Who bought him?" Even with her world crumbling around her and the evening with Viscount Hoth looming, she needed to know if she could reclaim the precious stallion. Perhaps all was not as desperate as it seemed. If she held tightly to her dream it could still happen. Somehow.

  The groom shook his head. He gestured over his shoulder to a closed door and the baron's office. "He's not saying, but the guineas spoke loudly."

  She had lost him. All along she’d planned to sell the house and hope it realised enough for her to buy Galahad and purchase a small parcel of land. Nothing fancy; she didn't mind living rough if it meant having the horses nearby. And now he was gone. All her instincts screamed out for her to crawl into his stable and cry, but she couldn't. Instead, she swallowed her tears. There would be time to mourn the loss of Galahad later. First she had to find Quinn and deal with an immediate problem: Hoth.

  "Could you saddle another horse, please? I shall try and wangle the location of Galahad out of the baron later." And with any luck, she could buy him back at a cheaper price. Once the new owner realised how fractious the horse could be, the man might reduce the price to have him taken off his hands. Quinn was the only man she had seen have any success riding the stallion, and even then the two had quite a heated exchange about who was in charge.

  Davie tugged the brim of his cap and walked back to the tack room for her sidesaddle, while Ianthe improved her mood by remembering all the little quirks the stallion used to dislodge an unsuspecting rider. Yes, let him deposit his new owner on the ground so violently that he would sell him cheap.

  Despite the growing lump in her stomach and the ache in her heart over losing Galahad, Ianthe still had a role to play while out in public. She smiled and chatted as she rode Rotten Row, even though it was papering over cracked walls. At length she spotted Quinn, sitting on the fine-boned grey mare and talking to a companion. Like her, his gaze kept sweeping over the riders, as though searching for someone.

  She didn't know what she expected when his gaze caught hers—disgust, disdain, and reproof?

  But Aster was right and Quinn was not that sort of man. A wide smile broke over his face as his gaze alighted on her, as though they had not parted on such bad terms. She rode closer and nodded to Ewan Shaw. "I'm sorry to intrude, gentlemen. Quinn, if you could spare me a moment, may I talk to you, please?"

  "Of course. Let us find a quiet spot away from here. I'll see you at Aunt Maggie's, Ewan," he called to his companion before nudging the mare. They trotted off down the track, falling into an easy canter as they moved away from the ton.

  After a short ride, they found a secluded area, sheltered by a row of ancient trees. There were fewer people here and those about kept to the path, away from the stand of oak. Here they could talk in private without being overheard.

  Quinn jumped from the saddle, then moved to Ianthe's near side and held up his hands. He plucked her from the sidesaddle and slid her against his body. Her body rioted and her mind refused to be still. Ianthe kept her promise to Aster and looked deep inside herself, then met Quinn's gaze. What she found stole her breath. The raw love and longing in his gaze made her sway toward him. With her palms flat on his chest, the pulse of his heart beat through the delicate hide of her gloves.

  "I love you," he whispered as he raised one hand to stroke a finger gently down the side of her face. "I just wish you could believe me and not think of me as a foolish puppy chasing a toy."

  "I do believe you." She pulled his head to her and kissed him.

  Her feelings for him seemed too expansive to be love alone. Is this what Aster meant by wolves loving deeper than ordinary men? Ianthe didn't have the words to explain the way he made her heart swell. How being in his arms made her feel safer, protected. The morning he held her while they talked about what they wanted to do with their lives, and their dreams, was a constant memory that kept her moving through each day. Her body and heart yearned to be filled in a way that only Quinn could satisfy. Their lips moved against one another, gentle and insistent, as she sought him out and stroked his tongue with hers.

  With a soft groan he pulled back and laid his forehead against hers. "What changed your mind?"

  Ianthe kept hold of the lapels of his jacket for balance, while her heart raced and pounded. "Aster pointed out that there are rare, intelligent men in the world who are apparently capable of knowing their minds and hearts, regardless of age. She said that you, Quinn Muir, happen to be one of these fabled beasts women whisper about. A wolf who has recognised his mate."

  He chuckled softly. "Very smart woman, my sister."

  He placed a finger under her chin, tilted her head, and then kissed her again. He took control, pushing her back against the mare. His
tongue played with hers, and then he nipped her lip until she gasped. He pulled back a fraction and let her catch her breath.

  "As much as it strokes my ego to think that you solely sought me out to have me kiss you senseless, since I had not claimed one today, I think there is far more to your visit."

  She waited until the blood stopped pounding in her ears and she could gather her scattered thoughts. "Aster said I walk a dangerous path, but that I did not have to walk it alone."

  His gaze darkened and his hands tightened around her. "Yes. We will set a trap for Hoth, if you would help. He might hide behind his title, but we will deliver justice to the treacherous soul eater."

  She let out a sigh. The scrap of paper was itchy under her clothes. She had a choice to make. One option was to keep quiet, trade the slip for the house deeds, and walk away. Quinn would never know. It would solve one problem and make her free, but it would likewise leave Hoth free to continue on his chosen path. How many more lives would he consume as he sought to satisfy his hunger and greed? No, she would take the second option, stand beside Quinn and help him bring down Hoth in a more permanent fashion.

  "Septimus will be at my house tomorrow night to claim me and the idea terrifies me. However, I have something in my possession that I believe pertains to his late-night discussions with Phillip. Something he sought that day you and he had words."

  He held her face in his hands, his gaze intense. "I will protect you, Ianthe, but I never meant to control you. I would set you free, not have you become a marionette controlled by a man. Hoth will not have you and if you can trust me, we will foil his plot and his unnatural ways together."

  Relief flooded her limbs, such was her new belief in his ability to do as he said. That left room for a sliver of misery to spear her body. Here, in his arms, she could allow the tears to fall. "I have lost Galahad."