by Nhys Glover
How could she have missed the warning signs? Surely she should have seen his obvious dissatisfaction, his determination to escape again? Someone couldn’t hide those sorts of thoughts from everyone, could they?
‘Go inside Phil. Tell Jamey to come out to me. Get cleaned up. I will see you when I have dealt with Bobby.’
‘Can I not help?’ It was not what she wanted. But she felt it was what she needed to do.
‘No. You cannot help with this now. Go inside and rest. You have experienced a great shock. Your body will start to react to it shortly.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Once you stop, your body will begin to shake uncontrollably. You will find it difficult to stand. You may feel sick. It is natural. Go inside and take care of yourself.’
‘What about you? Will you feel this way to?’
‘Yes. But I have things to do before I can relax enough to let it happen.’
‘What about the mare? I forgot about the mare!’
‘She will come home. Once she stops, she will have started grazing. Then she will make her way home. I will send someone out for her in the morning, if she has not come in by then. Stop worrying. Everything will be taken care of.’
She looked at him properly for the first time. He was dressed only in shirtsleeves and moleskin pants. His boots were dusty. Every stretch of bare skin was covered in dirt. His dark, over-long hair was damp clumps of windblown curls. His handsome, craggy features were harsher than she had ever seen them. And he was so weary… so terribly, terribly weary.
Not thinking how her action might be taken, she reached out, and placed a comforting hand on his bare arm. Her heart ached for him. He had killed tonight, to save her life. He had killed a boy, who was no more than a guiltless victim. The weight of that must be crushing him.
One big hand came to rest over hers. For an instant, it tightened into a grateful squeeze. Then he drew away from her, and straightened his spine. ‘Go inside, Phil. Get Jamey for me.’
Nodding, she turned to leave him. He didn’t need her comfort now. He might never need it. She must remember that he didn’t want her anymore. He had gone away and left her, because he couldn’t face his changed feelings for her. He couldn’t face her distress.
With tired steps, she staggered up to the back door of the Keep in search of Jamey.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The shaking, when it came, was more than she expected. Her limbs shook like she was freezing to death. Even her teeth chattered. She had removed her riding habit and her undergarments, and then lain on the bed, wearing only a silk rope she had bought as a special treat for herself when she came into her fortune. It was green, and she thought it made her eyes look even greener, and her hair a more flattering shade of auburn.
But thoughts of appearance were the last thing on her mind as she lay on top of her bed, trying to hold herself together. In her mind, the events of the last hours played over and over again, until she thought she would scream.
Riding out like that had been pure idiocy. The mare had been sure-footed enough on the familiar track down the moor to the village. But the road to Harrogate was not so well known, and she had tripped on a loose stone. The feeling of flying from the horse’s back had been terrifying. It had seemed to go on and on forever, before she finally hit the hard ground with a painful grunt. For a moment or two, she must have lost consciousness, because the next thing she knew the wolf was standing over her, growling. His hackles were up, eyes gleaming red, and his hot, fetid breath was on her face. Her terror froze her in place.
Then she had heard the galloping horse approaching. When Byron threw himself from the back of his mount, rifle in hand, she had never seen anything so beautiful or so welcome in her life. He had been every girl’s fantasy: her knight in shining armour. But he had no armour, and the dragon he slayed was a werewolf/boy. This was no romantic tale with a happy ending. And her knight had not saved her out of love, but simply because it was his job to keep the monsters from doing harm. He cared nothing for her anymore.
The pain of reminding herself of that fact made her moan. How could she live her life without him? Even as she rode away to escape him, she had known that, just as Bobby couldn’t outrun his wolf within; she couldn’t outrun her love for Byron. Back in the long distant past, (was it only two months ago?) she had wondered if she could give up her life to stay with him. Now she knew that he was her life. Even if the Keep hadn’t become her home in the last month, even if she hadn’t found a family here with these sad, tortured souls, she would have stayed. Because anywhere else would have felt like no life at all.
But she had been a foolish dreamer to think that the power was in her hands. It had never been her decision to make. Byron didn’t want her, and that was the end of it. Whatever had caused the wedge to form between them, it was now so thick that she could see no way forward. She must face the facts: Byron didn’t want her. And if that was the case, then she couldn’t stay here. No matter how much it hurt, she would need to leave her new family behind, and start again.
Her teeth chattered again, and she bit her tongue. Tasting blood, she fought back the tears that were once more threatening. More blood. So much blood. Bobby’s naked body, black with blood in the moonlight. The memory of the foul stench of it nearly made her vomit.
The soft knock on her door drew her away from her jagged-edged memories. She sat up as the door creaked open, and Byron appeared in the doorway. He had cleaned himself up, but he still looked shattered. Without asking permission to enter, he came across the room, and sat on the edge of her bed. His eyes remain downcast, as he twisted his big hands into knots.
‘Are you well?’
‘As well as can be expected, in the circumstances,’ she replied softly. Her voice wobbled on the last word.
‘I am sorry I put you in that position. I am sorry I handled the situation so badly that you felt you had to flee from me. I did not mean to hurt you so much you felt you had to flee. I did not think I could.’
Her pride wanted to make her deny his assumption that his rejection had hurt her. What did it make her that he should pity her? But though she tried to dredge up some bravado, none came. Instead, only another round of shaking jarred her body.
‘You cannot help how you feel. If you no longer harbour fond feelings for me, I would not have you acting otherwise, to spare my feelings.’
‘No, I cannot help how I feel about you. But I can help how I treat you. I needed to drive you away, but I did it as no gentleman would. And because of that, you almost died tonight. I would not have been able to live with myself if that had happened. It is hard enough to live with the fact that my dereliction of duty led to the death of that lad tonight.’
‘There was no kind way to tell me I was no longer wanted. Maybe it was the only way I would get the message. It was not your fault. And Bobby? Well, if Bobby was determined to escape, he would have, sooner or later. He is dead because he would not accept his situation. He might have killed me or someone else tonight, if you had not acted as you did. You did what you had to do.’
Byron looked up then, and his shadowed gaze met hers. ‘Thank you for your kindness. I do not deserve it.’ His voice cracked on the last words.
Unable to stop herself, Phil reached out, and placed a cupped palm to his bristled cheek. He closed his eyes, shuddered, and seemed to melt into her hand. If she had not known differently, she would have sworn it was the action of a man overcome with passion.
Shocked by the possibility, she made to remove her hand. But his own came up, and stayed her withdrawal. Then he turned his face, so that he could kiss the centre of her palm. It was her turn to shudder.
‘Being away from you was the hardest thing I have ever had to do,’ he admitted softly into her palm.
‘Hard? Why was it hard? It seemed easy enough for you to ride away, without a backward glance? Without making an effort to tell me you were going. I would not have known you were gone until it was too late.’ She heard
the bitterness in her voice now. Why was she doing this? He was hurting, he had apologised. It did no good to rub his nose in it like a puppy that had befouled the carpet.
‘I was a coward. I did not think I would be able to go, if I saw you.’
‘I…I do not understand.’
Byron’s other hand came up to stroke the tendrils of hair back from her face. ‘Dearest Phil, it is easy enough to understand. I could not stay away from you. I would have taken your virtue, had I stayed here a moment longer.
‘And I knew you had to go. Out there is a man who will give you everything you want, everything you deserve. I cannot do that. All I have is this…’ He left off playing with her hair to indicate the Keep with a sweep of his hand. ‘Your maidenhead belongs to him. The man who can give you the life you deserve. This is no life for you. I would never inflict my choices on you, and I cannot leave here, even for you.
‘So I left. I thought it would make it easier on both of us.’
Before she had a chance to fully take in his words, the sound of a mournful howl split the air. It was followed by a chorus of yowls that seemed to go on forever. The sound no longer frightened her. In a way, it comforted her. Those were the voices of her family, calling to her.
‘I am sorry. I must get back to my duty. I have been remiss enough for one night.’
‘You really went away because you care for me?’ she said, ignoring his words.
He gave her a sad little grimace that passed as a smile. ‘It sounds foolish when you say it like that. But yes, that is what I did.’
‘You are a fool, then. I was going to leave here, even though I did not want to, because I could not stand to be in your presence, knowing you did not care for me. I wanted to stay here, Byron. These people have become my family. This place has become my home, for all its harshness. You would have driven me from my home with your misguided sense of honour!’
He frowned, trying to take in the meaning of her words. It was as if he understood each sentence, but the significance was passing him by. He was so stubbornly fixed on what he saw as being right for her.
‘You like it here? But you could have Venice, London, New York! You could have it all. Why would you settle for this?’ His brown eyes were wide with astonishment.
‘Places do not matter, people are what matter. These people, who suffer so badly, reached out their hands in kindness to me when they saw how I grieved. Even Charlotte offered me her friendship. How rare is that? How likely am I to find that in Venice or London or New York? I am loved here. I have a place and a purpose here. I belong here. But I cannot stay if I cannot have you at my side.’
His eyes gleamed from unshed tears, as he again stroked the hair back from her face. ‘Are you sure? I do not want you saying such things if it is only to please me.’
‘Please you! I am furious with you! You nearly made me desert my home. Was this Will’s advice? It sounds like him. That man will be the death of me!’
Byron let out a yip of delight, and before she could remove the frown from her face, he had her wrapped in his arms, her nose crushed against his throat so tightly that she could hardly draw breath.
Struggling to escape his taut embrace, she felt like laughing for the first time in a month. She felt light once more. Free once more. Who would have thought that freedom could be found in a prison? But where ever the heart was, there was freedom.
‘Jamey can stand guard for a little longer can he not?’ She managed to get out, between gales of laughter.
‘I suppose so. Why?’
She grinned cheekily, letting the dimples in her cheeks appear. Then, before she saw her meaning register in his eyes, she leaned up the claim his lips. It was like coming home. Despite the bristles, despite the slight scent of sweat, horse and leather that still clung to him, despite her maidenly fears of what was to come, she felt she had finally come home.
‘If we do this… you will have to marry me. Are you prepared to do that?’ he asked, as his voice dropped an octave, and became a delicious growl.
‘I will have to marry you? That is the condition, is it?’ She pursed her lips, as if thinking.
He lasted almost thirty seconds before he could take no more of her procrastination. His mouth found hers again with more hunger and passion than he had allowed himself in the past. It took her breath away.
Before she realised it, her silk rope was being slipped from her shoulders, and Byron’s tongue was tracking a path across her skin after it, setting off a series of delightful explosions on its way. She moaned, and the sound seemed to drive him to intensify the contact. His teeth closed over her shoulder and he bit her. It hurt, but it was a delicious kind of pain that had her moaning even louder.
His hands found her breasts then, cupping them, and kneading them gently, adoringly. Such an intimate touch seemed wrong for a moment. But then she remembered the foolishness of Queen Victoria and her society. If a table could not have legs, then she could not have this man suckle her breast as he had begun to do now. But tables did have legs, not limbs. And if the man she loved enjoyed what he did to her. And if she enjoyed it too, how could it be wrong?
With that last thought, she let go of her inhibitions, and let him lead her where he wanted her to go. Wherever he touched her, she came alive. Her flesh burned for him.
Desperately, she rained her own kissed down his neck, trying to burrow lower. In one frustrated yank, Byron had the buttons of his shirt ripped off, so that his chest was bare for her ministration. Gratefully, she let her mouth and tongue make their fevered way down his throat and then lower, delighted by the groans he gave her, delighted by the passioned focus that kept him perfectly still beneath her touch.
Then, with another low groan, he tore the shirt completely off, and pressed his chest against hers. Skin on skin, in such intimate contact, felt more wonderful than she’d imagined. The smooth slip of flesh against flesh thrilled her, and enflamed her virginal desires further.
But when his hand slipped between her legs, and his fingers sought entry to the place that even she had never gone, she bucked uncontrollably, and tried to draw back. The touch was too much. It was too intimate. What would he want to go there for?
‘Hush, stay still, my love. Do you not know what this place is?’ He lifted his head so he could meet her gaze. His eyes were hooded with passion that sent an answering swirl of pleasure through her, right down to the place where he touched her.
She shook her head in answer to his question, but she had almost forgotten what he asked. Thinking was becoming impossible. It was as if she was drugged by a euphoric brew, unable to focus on anything but sensation.
‘This place is the centre of your being. This is your core. I want to be inside you, at the very centre of you. I want you to surround me with your heat. And you will want me to. In this place, we will both find release. In this place we will both be whole.’ And his finger sunk deep into her, on the last word. She gasped at the intrusion, and at the pure, delicious sensation that such intrusion brought her.
He stretched her. She could feel him stretching her gently with his fingers. The desire to escape his invasion was now gone. Now she opened her legs, inviting more. And, the way he growled at her, made her realise she was pleasing him by doing so.
But even as she thought she pleased him, he was gone. His fingers were gone, his hand was gone. And he was dragging himself away from her, as she tried to cling on.
‘What…?’
‘Give me a moment…’ he managed to get out in a strangled voice. Then she saw what he was doing. He was ripping off his boots and removing his pants. While he did so, her shocked stare took in the beauty of his heavily muscled body and arousal with bemused fascination.
Laughing at where her gaze had focused, he grabbed her hand, and drew her to him. Partly eager, partly terrified of this strangely powerful part of him, she let him place her hand on him. It felt like velvet over iron. The way he swallowed and trembled told her that he liked having her touch him t
here.
When he took his hand away, her own stayed where it was, stroking gently along the full length of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if she hurt him.
‘Is this right?’ she asked uncertainly.
‘Oh, very right. Do not stop. Please…mmmm’ His head fell back, as he arched his neck, the muscles of his chest become harder and more defined.
Then, as if her touch was too much, he drew her had away, and lay her gently back on the bed.
‘I should wait. I should take this slowly… but I cannot …’ He seemed to be apologising to her. But she didn’t understand why. She didn’t want to go slowly. Whatever he was doing to her was pushing her faster and faster toward a destination she could only imagine. And she wanted to get there…soon.
She brought his lips to hers, and kissed him deeply, giving him permission for whatever he was about to do. Then he was spreading her legs, and positioning his body over hers, pressing his arousal against her soft crux. It felt so good she moaned again.
That was all he needed as welcome. In the next moment, he was pressing into her with the hard length, and surprisingly, her body was accepting it, welcoming it. Then he stopped.
‘Don’t…’ she murmured, disappointed by his unwillingness to go further. But then he pressed forward sharply, and she felt something tear inside her. Before the pain began to abate, Byron sunk still deeper into her body.
How was this possible? It was as if she had been made for just this. He fitted her perfectly. She wriggled to adjust to his length, and her movements seemed to enflame him.
But, before he began to move again, he growled a question into her ear. ‘All right?’
‘More than all right. Does it feel all right to you? I do not know.’