Wolf's Castle

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by Madelyn Hill


  She glared at him. “I’ll not marry Donal.”

  Donal? The name grated over his already taut nerves. Donal had touched her. Had shared a most intimate moment with her.

  Made love to Vivian.

  “Can’t you see? ‘Twas a mistake. We. . .I’ve ruined your chances of a respectable marriage.” He was certain her Donal may refuse to marry her now. Galen had nothing to offer.

  Nothing.

  “I will not marry Donal.” She threw her hands up, exasperated with his stubbornness. “You’ve no need for guilt over what we’ve shared.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “You are so enchanting. I lost all control. I. . .I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen.”

  She clenched her fist. “Allow it to happen? I’ll have you know, Laird Galen Maclean, I allowed it to happen.”

  She watched a smile quirk the edges of his mouth, then snap back to a rigid line.

  “I gave myself freely. Just as I thought you did.” She backed out of the chamber, pained by the look of resolve on his handsome face. “I need to be alone.”

  He strode toward her. “Vivian, tell me. . .tell me how it is you weren’t innocent.”

  Vivian stopped at the threshold, pain and wariness tightening her gaze. “’Tisn’t your concern.”

  Anger ruled his features as his eyes narrowed. “How can I send you to the mainland if you’re not honest with me?”

  “Honest with you?” Vivian tucked her fist at her waist. “You’ve no comprehension of the word.”

  He sputtered and growled, but she left the room regardless, disgusted with his questions and misplaced anger. Donal should be bearing the brunt of Galen’s fury, not her.

  She raced to her chamber and rang for Nessa. Reeling from Galen’s comments, she failed to notice the maid was already in the chamber.

  “Och, lass, you nearly ran me over.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob.

  Without words her maid gathered her into a hug. “Ah, my lass. Tell Nessa what’s troubling you.”

  She shook her head and said between sobs, “I can’t.”

  The kindly woman tipped up her chin with a pudgy finger. “I know ‘tis him. The bastard, hurting m’lady.”

  Nessa soothed her with her comforting presence. Och, Vivian felt the fool for allowing her attraction to Galen to bring her to such depths of despair. She must think of her feelings for him as an attraction. If she allowed her true emotions to rule her, surely her heart would break.

  God, but she loved him. Even when he blustered, she kenned he was hiding a deep pain. She wanted to rid him of any sorrow or loneliness. If only Galen would trust her, ultimately return her love.

  “I’ll ring for your bath and a hot meal.”

  Vivian grinned for Nessa’s sake. When the maidservant left the room, she cuddled in bed and released the flood of tears wringing her heart.

  Galen threw the teapot across the room. His stomach clenched and sweat broke out over his brow. His emotions were beginning to take their toll—that or he was in need of whiskey.

  Vivian’s eyes followed him everywhere. Their violet depths probing him for answers. He’d inflicted the pain. Her hasty retreat confirmed that.

  He’d reacted specifically to save her. Save her from the wretched curse of the Macleans. None had ever found happiness, love.

  She deserved better.

  So much weighted his mind. Vivian, Alex, the deceptive Madge. They needed to find her before the harsh winter settled in. He decided not to dwell on Vivian for the moment. Instead, he focused on finding Alex.

  “Bernard,” he growled, full well knowing the man hovered right outside the chamber. “We need to go outdoors.”

  The door opened and the silver-haired man peeked in. “M’laird, ‘tis too dangerous.”

  Galen chuckled. Bernard was not light on his feet and his pacing outside the chamber sounded well through the hardwood doors. “We need to look at the smokestacks. See if Madge is using a fire to keep warm.”

  The older man nodded and wrung his hands in a most desperate and fearful way. “I’ll. . .I’ll get my coat.”

  He made the sign of the cross as he turned in the direction of his chamber. Galen hoped his prayers would be enough for the both of them.

  It proved futile. The furious wind whipped any smoke from their view. The icy rain drenched them within seconds.

  “Let’s check the barn,” Galen shouted over the cacophony of sea and wind.

  “M’laird, I mean no disrespect, but the lass will no’ be found if she ‘tisn’t of a mind to.”

  Grudgingly, Galen agreed. Regardless, he pulled his coat tight around him and trudged toward the stone barn. Sheep greeted them with insistent bleats, clamoring for attention or a handful of oats.

  The pungent smell of lanolin, dung, and dampness permeated the barn. Galen breathed through his mouth as he searched the hayloft, tack room, and even the horses’ stalls at the end of the long outbuilding. Bernard followed after him like an obedient puppy, muttering with surprise when each location turned up empty.

  “They aren’t here.” He hated stating the obvious, but the lack of human conversation unnerved him.

  Something nibbled on his kilt. Galen bent and picked up a wee lamb. He tucked the animal into the crook of his arm and patted its wooly head. The lamb rose up and sniffed his face. Turning toward Bernard, Galen motioned toward the door.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked the older man.

  Bernard shook his head as he hastened out of the barn. “Nay, m’laird.”

  Galen looked down at the lamb, now making itself comfortable in his arms. He heard the serving man chuckle as he stood holding the door open. Galen released the lamb, chagrinned, as if he were caught doing something he shouldn’t. The animal bleated mournfully at being displaced, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes. Much like his brother’s, unblinking in their trust.

  The sheep seemed sorry to see them leave. Their bodies swollen with wool pushed and shoved as he and Bernard shuffled through their swarming bodies.

  The barn was almost a welcome respite from the wretched mess he’d made in the castle. The walk back to the kitchen seemed endless as they huddled against the rain and coiling wind.

  “Shut the blasted door.”

  Galen looked up and saw Auld Alice stirring a large pot over the fire. The scent of beef broth and fresh bread heated the kitchen. He removed his sodden coat and sat in one of the chairs surrounding the long wooden table.

  “Keep your fingers off my bread.”

  “I’d never think of it, Alice,” he said as he cut a thick slice and loaded it with butter.

  She turned toward him and wagged her stirring spoon in his face. “You never change, lad. Always begging from the kitchen.” She returned to the soup pot. “You might as well help yourself, Bernard.”

  The man ate the bread as if it were his last meal.

  “Has Vivian eaten?” Galen tried to sound disinterested, but the perceptive Alice must have sensed the mood that lay beneath his tone.

  “Why do you ask, m’laird? Do you desire to upset her further?” She kept her back to him, but he read the terseness of her voice and her ramrod straight back.

  “What did she tell you?” he demanded as he stopped eating.

  She peered over her shoulder. “Och, ‘tisn’t her that needs to be telling, lad.”

  Would the woman ever speak plainly, instead of in constant riddles?

  “There’s nothing to tell.” He glared at Bernard, still eating buttered bread and, from the looks of it, trying to ignore what was happening around him. “We need to search the east wing once more.”

  Alice came to his side. “It’s been searched several times. Madge’ll come back when she’s ready.”

  “And the lad? Does he have any say in the matter?”

  She sighed. He almost backed down. But the contrary gleam in her wise eyes urged him to continue. “Bernard, we’ll search until she is found.


  He left without listening to another word. Blast if the woman wasn’t right. Madge’s penchant for drama caused her to test them with impertinence and frequent absences.

  He entered the east wing. Bernard lagged several feet behind, still eating the fresh bread Alice made. Something caught his attention as he mounted the stairs.

  “Are you looking for Alex?”

  He turned at the sound of Vivian’s voice. Dark rings marred her delicate skin and a hesitant tone filtered into her voice. But dam ort, if she wasn’t the loveliest vision he’d ever seen as she tipped up her chin. “No need to help us.”

  She pulled herself up, visibly bristling. “I will help.” He watched her turn and walk in the direction of Alex’s nursery. Grumbling, he followed even though he kenned it was ill advised.

  “What’s that?” Vivian asked as they reached the east wing.

  Galen stilled and listened. “Must be the wind.”

  Bernard looked around nervously as he entered the chamber. “M’laird, ‘tis a ghost, for sure.”

  Galen chuckled. “The castle may hold many things, but I doubt any ghosts are lingering.”

  “Shhh,” Vivian demanded. Her face was serious as she wrinkled her brow and cocked an ear.

  He leaned toward her. “What do you hear?”

  “That’s not the wind, nor a ghost.” She looked with amusement at Bernard. “’Tis a bairn’s cry.”

  Galen listened once more. A smile spread across his face. “I ken where she is.”

  He sprinted toward the end of the hall. The noise continued; a trusty guide to Madge’s hiding place. He flipped a thin molding. The hidden door clicked open, revealing a dark passage. Galen coughed as dust swirled. He disappeared into the opening as Vivian and Bernard called after him.

  “Follow me. ‘Tis safe.”

  He felt Vivian behind him and Bernard stumbled behind her.

  “Are you certain this is the way?” she asked.

  He turned left and started down a gentle slope. “I’ve lived in this castle my entire life.” He swept a cluster of spider webs from his path. “There are numerous hidden chambers.”

  They reached the landing. Alex’s cries surrounded them as if he were in the same room. Galen grinned and flipped a small lever beneath a stone. With a little pressure, the wall gave way and an illuminated room was revealed, warm and filled with the babe’s displeasure.

  Galen stepped over the high threshold and assisted Vivian. She held his hand as if she loathed touching him.

  “Hello, Madge.”

  The maidservant turned, shock lifting her brows before anger took over. “What do you want?”

  Vivian laid her hand on his arm and gave a quick squeeze. “We don’t want to upset you, Madge. We were worried about you and Alex.”

  “Gather your things and come back upstairs,” Galen ordered.

  The young woman stood her ground. Vivian glared, wrenching a sigh from him. “Bernard, would you help her with her things? ‘Tisn’t safe in these passages.”

  Alex watched them with interest as he chewed on the collar of his mother’s dress. Galen walked forward and reached for him. Madge backed away, clutching him to her chest.

  “I’ll give him back.” He did his best to sound reassuring, but Madge regarded him with cool suspicion.

  “Let me help you, Madge.” Vivian’s presence seemed to soothe the maid. She relinquished the baby and turned to gather her things.

  Galen browsed the room. She had peat for the fire, a stack of blankets, and every toy young Alex owned. “How long were you planning on staying here?”

  “’Till spring. I could get food during the night. I was going to leave with Miss Stuart.”

  He threw his hands up in exasperation. “So you would steal my food and peat and stay in one of the hidden rooms until spring?” He narrowed his eyes. “How did you find this room?”

  She shrugged, overly interested in packing her things.

  “Madge.”

  Alex started and began another crying fit.

  She glared at him, her dark eyes mere slits on her face. “Your father showed them to me.”

  Galen grunted. “I bet he did.”

  “No need for nastiness,” Vivian chastised. He glanced at her. Her pointed look held a stern warning.

  He would relent for now. “Bernard, you lead. I’ll follow Vivian. The passages are not always trustworthy.”

  Even in the dank corridor, lavender clouded around Vivian as he followed her. He lifted his hand to touch her hair, loose, tumbling down her back. Even in the dark, he envisioned its softness, its scent. All he envisioned doing was making slow, sweet love to her in his bed.

  Embarrassed by the direction of his thoughts, Galen held back to create some distance between them.

  “I’ll help you get settled,” Vivian said to Madge. “Then we can bring Alex to the kitchen for a fine meal.”

  He watched the exchange between them. Madge still surly, Vivian attempting to make the best of the situation. Both grinned at the bairn.

  Madge hesitated, then nodded.

  Galen cleared his throat. “I’ll tell Alice.”

  Bernard bowed his head to the women and left the chamber. Most likely to tell his wife the news.

  The nursery was already regaining its comfort with his brother there. Vivian set Alex on the rug and placed a toy in his pudgy hand.

  His brother.

  How odd the words sounded in his mind. He felt a tug on his trousers. Looking down, Alex clutched his pant leg and attempted to stand.

  He leaned down and picked up the boy. This time a little bit more comfortably than before. “Aren’t you a bonnie lad?”

  Alex gurgled and babbled the way only a bairn could. None of it made sense to Galen, but Alex’s tiny features enthralled him. He touched the tip of the button nose and the lad reached up and grasped his finger. His grip held like a trap as he tried to pull Galen’s finger into his slobbery mouth.

  He felt the heat of her stare. When he glanced up, Vivian shifted her gaze. He watched as she feigned interest in a wooden block. Alex squirmed and Galen held him tighter, liking the weight of the babe in his arms. A thought pierced him, sharp and quick. He longed to hold his own child. A little girl with Vivian’s striking violet eyes, her delicate features.

  In a panic, he handed the babe to Madge and headed to the safety of the bed chamber.

  Chapter 28

  The image of Vivian’s child burned in his mind. Galen shook his head, but the sight stayed locked in place.

  “Is she found?” Alice asked as he entered the chamber. She settled in a lumbering chair by his writing desk in a bright corner of his chamber.

  “Aye.” Amused, he opened the wardrobe and grabbed a clean shirt. “She was hiding in the passages.”

  Alice nodded as if she kenned all along. Maybe she did, he thought. Rising, she tsked as she bent to pick up his discarded shirt. “Just like your father you are.”

  Galen stopped as nerves tightened like ropes along his spine. She kenned how much he loathed his father, the type of hatred in which you loath a person and want their acceptance at the same time.

  Alice held up her hands. “Don’t be getting your hackles up. I mean he was a bit messy as well.”

  “The comparison matters not,” he ground out.

  She gave him a speculative glance. “Now that Madge is found, you’ll be setting things with Vivian.”

  He cocked a brow and stared at Alice. Her determined stance displayed her ire. “I’ve nothing to settle with Vivian.”

  Alice picked up more clothing. “Lad, don’t you realize she can save you?”

  Like a coward, he turned away. “It can’t be. Surely you see that.” He moved to the desk, picked up a book and thumbed through its pages. The words blurred before him.

  Alice slapped a table. “She’s the one for ye, lad. You love her, ‘tis plain as the nose on your face.”

  Galen shrugged. “She has to leave. This castle yields no
thing but pain.”

  “Och!” Alice came beside him. “Not the castle, you stubborn mon, your da. He was the cause of all of the pain.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And many a fiancé wouldn’t marry after she’s been in Lomarcan. Do you ken Vivian’s will still accept her? Do you ken any mon who’d accept her once they learned where she’d stayed?”

  He scowled away her concern. “Money can amend that. And I’d say my mother behaved equally horrid.”

  She pointed to his bed and her look brooked no room for argument. “Sit.”

  He complied, but disquiet returned when he saw the stern line of her jaw.

  Alice stood before him, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “’Twasn’t your mam. She tried so hard to please him. But she didn’t have it in her.” She rubbed her brow and sighed. “The poor lass was too young to be married to such an important man. He demanded everything from her, but she couldn’t love him.”

  Galen leaned forward and rested hands on the edge of the bed. “She still married him.”

  Alice whipped her gaze to him. “He took her from her home and brought her to this. . .this island.”

  An icy sweat coated his back, moistened his palms. Bile rose in his throat. “That can’t be true.”

  “Aye,‘tis, lad, ‘tis.” She sat next to him and reached for his hands. “Why do you think Laird Maclean built the castle so dark and brooding? He wanted to punish her. And he did. Especially after you were born.”

  Emotions swirled in his mind. “Tell me all of it.” His voice scratched against his throat in a low growl as he fought to know the truth, even though part of him wanted to remain ignorant.

  She sighed, her hands trembled. He rubbed her papery skin with his thumb and urged her on. “I need to ken.” No matter how much he didn’t want to ken.

  Alice opened her mouth, closed it, then spoke, “After you were born, your da threatened your life if she came near you.”

  A thunderous roar raged through his mind. His father’s cruelty was boundless. He stayed silent as his stomach clenched with undefined emotion. “Why?”

 

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