The duke's words and tone sent a chill rippling through Alick. Capable of the job. What did he mean by that, and how far would he play this game? Did the duke intend to pay him to rape his daughter to teach her a lesson in submission? He wouldn't harm a hair on the creature's head, no matter the size of the purse dangled before him. He might not be noble, but he had morals. Alick just hoped that whatever the duke had concocted would allow him time and proximity to aid the Wolves' secret mission.
"You would accept me as a son-in-law? A mere sergeant, and an Unnatural one at that, who can shift into a wolf," he said at length.
The duke's jaw stiffened and he ground his teeth for a moment. "I accept you as my daughter's husband. I doubt there will be any need for us to socialise. I don't much like dogs in the house; the furniture is too expensive to expose to gnawing teeth or animals that shed."
Given even the duke's staff looked at him with disgust and they didn't know Alick's true form, he didn't think an invitation to take up residence in Mayfair would be forthcoming. Balcairn seemed to expect he would mark his territory by peeing in the corners of the room. Alick wasn't so subtle—he liked to decorate with the bloody entrails of his enemies. The chandelier over his head would be a great starting point.
The wolf prickled under his skin and his tongue rubbed over the sharp end of a canine. Probably shouldn't disembowel the duke until he at least tried to uncover whatever he might be plotting with France.
Time for another line of enquiry. "You made mention of a purse?"
The duke's gaze narrowed and he nodded, as though he approved of Alick's pursuit of the dowry. "Yes. Once you and Isabel are wed and the marriage is consummated, I will direct my banker to make five thousand pounds available to you. That should set you up for life in Scotland. Do wolves live in proper houses or do you have a den in the trees?"
Alick stared at his drink and ground his jaw, trying to decide which comment merited him draping the duke's guts over the light fitting, the fact that the duke thought Scottish people were uncivilised cave dwellers or that he did indeed intend to pay Alick to harm his daughter. Unfeeling bastard. "Consummated? You don't think we should take some time to get to know one another first? A bit of wooing and courting, that sort of thing?"
An eyebrow shot up and a hard gleam entered the man's gaze. "My daughter needs taming and her co-operation is not necessary, for she will be your wife in all ways. If you are not up to the task, I can find another who will not baulk at doing what is required. Perhaps I need to find a real man and not a wolf who simply wears the skin of one."
The stone settled deeper in Alick's gut as his dislike of the man before him grew, and, with it, a need to protect Isabel took precedence in his body and mind. Anyone who sought to harm her would have to go through him first.
These weren't the words of a father talking about his beloved daughter, but a man punishing a horse that refused to accept the saddle. He would not see the woman raped just to satisfy the duke's need for control. He could at least deprive the bastard of that cruel entertainment.
"I think I can handle her, don't you?" He would leave it at that. The woman would never be harmed by his hand, although he saw nothing wrong with a little wrestling or rough play if she initiated it. What red-blooded soldier could resist a woman holding a blade and with fire in her gaze?
The duke made a noise in the back of his throat and rose. He shuffled papers on his desk and pulled forth two in particular. "This is an agreement between us, one copy for each of us. You will marry my daughter and exercise your marital rights, and in return I will make over the sum discussed. I need to you add your name and sign." He picked up the quill, then paused, a frown lining his forehead. "I assume you can write?"
Alick took the quill and dipped it into the ink. A part of him wanted to etch his name into the man's forehead, just to prove the savage could indeed scratch out more than a crude X. Instead he swallowed down his anger and wrote his name in a strong cursive script, and then added a large signature with extra embellishments.
The duke grunted and added a perfunctory signature to both papers. He then dusted them with sand from a silver shaker emblazoned with the ducal seal. The excess was tapped off into a shallow tray, and then he rolled one of the papers and tied a piece of ribbon around the middle.
There was a soft knock. The duke looked up and barked, "Come."
A man dressed in dark hues entered. He was of medium height but broad build, with the well-developed arms and shoulders of a pugilist. There was a slight purple hue to his cravat, just like the man Aster had seen earlier and whispered was one of the men who had drawn her father to his death. The man who had raised his hand to duel Lady Isabel, until Hamish and Ewan had tackled him and bundled him out the open doors. This evening was getting more and more interesting.
Alick watched the newcomer from under his brows. Like hell would he hand over his prize to this man, even if he were more capable of the task the duke wanted performed.
The hackles on his wolf rose and Alick had to bite back the urge to growl. Something about this one set off the Unnatural inside him. It could mean he, likewise, hid some affliction.
"Problem?" his soon-to-be father-in-law asked from behind the desk.
The man's gaze slid over Alick and back to the duke. He shrugged. "Of sorts. Lady Isabel was out in the grounds but has been escorted back to her room."
A nod. "Good." The duke turned to stare at Alick, his outstretched hand holding the roll of paper. "If you'll excuse us, we have business to discuss."
Dismissed. His presence no longer required. At least he didn't point his finger to the door and command the dog with a cry of Out! Alick took the contract and thanked God he could leave. He had needed to break wind for the last half hour and he was scared the internal pressure would blow out his eyes. He tucked the paper into his jacket.
He had one more request before he scurried away like the mutt the duke thought him to be. "I shall call on Lady Isabel tomorrow. I would like to get to know her a little before we are wed."
A magnanimous smile from his future father-in-law, now that he had whatever advantage he perceived. "Of course. I'm sure time to better your acquaintance is exactly what Isabel would like most."
The duke was obviously fond of sarcasm but Alick would ignore the taunt. As much as he wanted to be a fly on the wall at the next meeting, he would never succeed and had no choice but to leave. Outside, he made straight to the stables and collected his patient gelding and rode back to the inn. Murmured conversation told him everyone was assembled in Hamish and Aster's larger room.
The gentle murmur erupted to a roar as soon as he pushed through the door. He thought at least his family were pleased to see him. Certainly little Dougal the Scottish terrier sat on his hind legs and waited for his pat. One person in the room glared at him.
"You cannot marry the girl against her will. It is barbaric." Ianthe fixed him with her grey gaze.
Quinn stood behind her, his torn allegiance written all over his open face. Alick was his fellow soldier but Ianthe was the love of his heart and his mate. The poor boy would explode trying to figure out whom to support in this argument.
"If not me, then the duke implied he would find another. He is determined to see the lass tamed, as he put it." Alick crossed to a chair and sat down with a sigh. It was good to not have to ask permission to take a seat.
Ianthe screwed up her face. The former courtesan knew exactly what that meant for women—usually a good dose of brutality to knock the fight out of them. Marriage meant submission, no matter how it was achieved.
"Is that what he expects?" Hamish asked, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Aye. Asked for it specifically," Alick said. "I'll be bloody surprised if he doesn't want to stand next to the bed to watch it done."
Hamish let out a whistle between clenched teeth. Ewan kept his own counsel but Ianthe would not be silent. She turned to the other woman in the room for support.
"Aster, sur
ely you cannot countenance one of our sisters being forced into marriage?"
Aster called Dougal to her, and the dog jumped into her lap. The young woman was silent for a long minute as she stroked Dougal's silken ears while she gathered her thoughts. "If the men find evidence of treason against the Duke of Balcairn, what will happen to him?"
"All his land, titles, and fortune will be forfeited to the crown," her husband answered.
"And given Lady Isabel's somewhat troubled reputation and lack of immediate family, how many nobles will open their homes and offer her charity?" Aster asked, but her gaze rested on Ianthe.
Nobles turned on each other at the scent of blood. Who would want the troublesome woman once her father was disgraced, ruined, and imprisoned? Isabel would be reliant on charity in whatever guise she could find it. The room fell silent and Alick rested a little easier. He should have known clever Aster would understand.
Aster smiled at Alick, supporting his intentions as she laid out the plan that had sprung half-formed to his mind. "If we are to be the instrument of her father's downfall, I think it is beholden on us to rescue her. Marriage to Alick means she will be part of our family and we can offer her our protection from the storm to come."
Ianthe blew out a long sigh. "That might make sense, but I will say now, I do not like her. She is a rude, spoiled brat with no manners."
"Aye," Alick said, a large grin on his face. "Isn't she just? The woman has balls, unlike the eunuchs she fought before me."
"Are you sure you wish to do this though, Alick? If you marry Lady Isabel you forgo the chance of ever finding your mate." Concern laced Aster's gaze. As wife to the pack leader she was determined to see all the men happy.
Alick patted her shoulder. "I'll be fine. This way I won't turn into a lap dog like Quinn."
His wolf muttered that he was a liar. Marrying the girl was his chance to find his mate, he just didn't understand how, nor did he want to think about the odds that she would ever look at him with anything except disgust.
Hamish shook his head and smiled at his cousin. "Not quite how we intended to make discreet enquiries, Alick. Although I suppose you now know the location of the duke's study."
"The man Aster recognised turned up for a meeting with the duke and he is more than he appears to be," Alick said, trying to vocalise what his wolf had sensed.
"An Unnatural?" Ewan asked with an arched eyebrow.
"I suspect so. Being near him made my hackles rise." Alick tried to put his finger on why the man bothered him. "He seemed to be made of shadow, as though if he stepped back against the wall he would disappear."
"Shadow men," Ianthe whispered.
"Does that mean something to you? Another vision perhaps? I wish I had my books here to research if it is an afflicted creature," Aster asked.
Ianthe shook her head. "The word itches in my mind, not so much a vision as a memory. It will come to me. But if a vision strikes I will relay it."
Hamish looked thoughtful for a long moment. "Interesting. Neither Ewan nor I noticed anything odd about him, but then Alick's wolf is closer to the surface. What else did you learn?"
"I garnered an opportunity to wander the estate. I am to visit the lass tomorrow." He had to grin; things worked out rather well, considering he had stepped forward on a gut instinct with no real plan or forethought.
"Then let us see how events unfold and what we can discover," Hamish said.
Ewan opened a bottle of Aunt Maggie's moonshine and cups were filled. "To Alick, finally captured and about to be a married man."
7
Alick
* * *
Alick paid extra special attention to his appearance the next morning, despite the ribbing he endured from the others. He even went so far as to ask Perkins to cast a critical eye over the knot in his cravat and the way his jacket sat. The woman was going to be terrified of him regardless, but he would at least try to cover up the wolf that stalked just below the surface.
For some reason, it mattered what Lady Isabel thought of him. He didn't want her scoffing and dismissing him as an uncouth country yokel. Although, given his size, he always felt like a bear crammed into a dress, as he could never match the effortless elegance of Ewan. He even pulled his hair back off his face and tied it with a ribbon. She had seen his scar already; let her gaze upon his full hideousness in the bright light.
Hamish and Ewan accompanied him out to the stables. As he saddled his horse, the officers leaned over the stall wall and watched.
"Going to tell me what is bothering you so much that you didn't want to say in front of the ladies last night?" Hamish asked.
Alick did the girth up another notch and then scratched the gelding. "The duke expects me to rape his daughter for five thousand pounds. What sort of man does that to his own daughter?"
"The sort of man who has no qualms in hobbling a quarrelsome broodmare," Ewan replied.
Aye. There was the truth of it. As a noble daughter, Lady Isabel's duty was to marry to her father's advantage then produce as many heirs and spares as her husband required. Her feelings on the matter were irrelevant. The better the bloodlines, the less say the mare had in the choice of stallion. Women were expected to endure in silence. More and more he liked the prospect of a job after the war protecting such women. Alick would delight in teaching abusive husbands to keep their fists off their wives.
His hand tightened around the girth strap. At times like this he felt slow and stupid compared to the others. Thoughts and gut reactions swirled around in his head but he failed to grasp hold of them. Ideas smashed together and split apart while he tried to keep apace. His mouth was too slow to form the words that needed to spill free.
He centred his mind on the leather in his hand and plucked one question to ask. "If I don't do it, he says he has another who will. His shadow man. What happened last night, once you bundled that man outside?"
Hamish's fingers wrapped around the edge of the stall. "Too many eyes were watching. A couple of Balcairn's men asked if there was an issue, so we said we thought the man was drunk and needed a chance to sober up before returning to the ballroom."
Alick's mind grabbed at another thought as it drifted by. "Balcairn had him waiting in the crowd. He was supposed to be Lady Isabel's final duel. He had a few easy fights set up to make her over-confident."
"Not surprising that the duke would anticipate his daughter wanting to fight and ensure he had an opponent of his picking who would defeat her. How unfortunate for his plans that the victor turned out to be you." Ewan's cool gaze lighted on Alick.
"But why? Surely he didn't plan all this just as punishment for the lass?" That was the chill that bit into his gut. The question he couldn't articulate. Why did the duke want his daughter defiled by the man who murdered Aster's father? There was a larger game afoot here, he could feel it in his bones. What chess pieces did the duke move that they couldn't make out?
Ewan pulled a dagger from his sleeve and cleaned his nails with the tip as Alick did up the bridle buckles. The lieutenant answered Alick without looking up. "I suspect the answer to that question will come wrapped up in the proof of treason."
Alick met his cousin's gaze as he led the gelding from the stables. "Tread carefully, Alick. We do not know if Lady Isabel is complicit in her father's plans nor what knowledge she possesses of his actions."
Alick huffed a quiet laugh. They all knew he was incapable of sneaking around. He would charge right through the middle of a crowd, flapping his arms like an upset chicken. Or he would strip off his clothes and set his wolf free. "Just have my back, Hamish, and we'll muddle through this dance somehow."
Hamish slapped his shoulder, which was all that needed to pass between men and wolves. Alick swung into the saddle and turned the horse for the ducal estate. A half hour later, he trotted up the drive at a leisurely pace, trying to rehearse polite conversation in his head and failing miserably.
By the time he halted outside the grand house his mind was so fuddle
d he doubted he could get his own name straight. A footman rushed to take the reins of his horse as another one came down the stairs. Alick wondered how he didn't trip; the man's nose was that far in the air he couldn't possibly see where he placed his feet.
He stopped by Alick and sniffed the air. "His grace wishes to inform you that the hunting lodge has been made available for your use."
"The hunting lodge?" Alick glared at the man, willing the obnoxious servant to meet his gaze as he drew the syllables out, as though he didn't understand the sentence they constructed.
A tic twitched in the corner of his cheek at having to converse with the Scottish yokel. "Yes, the hunting lodge. It is a small dwelling in the southwest corner of the estate. With close proximity to the forest so that you might run."
He had the smallest stutter between the words might and run. The duke had obviously informed his staff that Alick was an Unnatural. He placed a bet with himself that he wouldn't be allowed inside the house now.
The first man led his horse away, and Alick watched the direction it was taken in before answering, "Is that so? And I can use this lodge, you say, even go inside and sit on the furniture? I do hope my fleas don't drop into the rugs."
The tic spasmed and the man inhaled, but he seemed to be holding his breath. "Yes. One of the men will show you, when your visit here is concluded."
Sounded suspiciously like the duke wanted Alick tucked away in a hidden corner. Or perhaps it would make him easier to watch? "Awfully kind of his grace."
The servant spied his escape and turned to leave.
"Where might I find Lady Isabel this morning? I'm assuming she's not sitting in the parlour waiting for me to call." It was cruel to make the man field his questions, but served him right for thinking the duke's crest made him superior to his fellow man.
"She is in the Greek meditation garden. Now if you'll excuse me." He scampered back up the main stairs as though a hound from Hell snapped at his heels. Perhaps the poor fellow simply didn't like being outside in the fresh air and sunshine?
Layers to Peel Page 6