A Certain Wolfish Charm

by Lydia Dare

  "Her Grace," Simon corrected.

  For a moment, he thought the old man's eyes were about to pop out of his head. "H-her Grace?"

  Lily nudged Simon in the ribs. "Simon, please." She refocused on the butler. "He's not returned then?"

  The old man shook his head. Simon narrowed his eyes on the fellow. There wasn't a question in his mind that Oliver was here.

  It had been years since he'd been to Maberley Hall, but he'd spent some time here as a lad. It shouldn't be too difficult to tear the place apart, find the pup's hiding place, and toss him back in the Blackmoor coach. Then he'd deal with the insolent butler. "Maberley!" he bellowed.

  "Your Grace!" Findley cried. "I tell you the earl is not here. I would never keep him from Miss… er… your duchess."

  "Simon, Findley is honorable. If Oliver was here, he would say so."

  The old man vigorously nodded his head. "Of course, Your Grace."

  Simon sniffed the air. He couldn't catch the boy's scent, not recent scent anyway. Still, he knew they were close. "Very well, Lily. You stay here and wait for him." He started back for the door.

  "Wait!" she called after him. "Simon, where are you going?"

  "I'll search along the lanes." With that, he strode out the front door.

  The sky above looked ominous, reflecting Simon's darkening mood. He paid no heed to the gardeners who gaped at him as he made his way down the stone path that led to the Maberley stables. Simon cursed the rain, which made it nearly impossible to use his keen sense of smell.

  He spotted a boy, younger than Oliver, with a bucket in hand, just about to enter the stables. "You!" he beckoned.

  The stable boy turned around, dropping his bucket of oats. "Yessir?"

  "I'm looking for Maberley."

  The child stared blankly at him.

  "The earl," Simon clarified. "Have you seen him?"

  The boy shook his head. "Not for days, sir."

  Erebus! Oliver would have to stable him. Simon stalked forward. "And what of horses? Have you any Anglo-Arabians here?"

  Again the stable boy shook his head. "No, sir."

  "Well, I'll just take a look." Simon brushed past the child into the stable, his nostrils flaring at the odors that assailed his senses. He wouldn't be able to catch Oliver's scent here, but if he could locate Erebus, it would be a good first step.

  He walked the length of the stables, peering into every stall. Neither Oliver nor Erebus was there, which didn't make any sense at all. Simon would swear the boy was there. He couldn't see him and he couldn't smell him, but he could sense his angry presence.

  He turned back to the stable boy, who was now speaking with a groom at the entrance and pointing at Simon.

  "You," he called. "Have your fastest stallion saddled for me."

  "I beg your pardon?" the groom said, stepping forward, a frown marring his face. "Who are you?"

  It was a trial not to be at his own estate where his every dictate was immediately leapt upon. How much time had he wasted today dealing with Maberley's inept servants? "The Duke of Blackmoor. Now do as I say."

  He stalked out of the stables as a streak of lightning raced across the sky. Damn Oliver York! Where was the little beast? Simon looked across the estate as dark clouds rolled overhead. He sniffed at the air to the south. Nothing. He turned to the east and sniffed again.

  There it was.

  The scent was faint, so faint that he'd nearly missed it. He inhaled deeply to be sure. Oliver was out there. Somewhere to the east, Simon was certain.

  Within minutes, he mounted a chestnut stallion and tore off toward the east as thunder cracked above him. It had been years since he'd ridden this land, but at one time he and Daniel had explored every part of the Maberley estate. The area was not completely unfamiliar to him.

  He raced past one copse of trees and then another, looking in all directions for some sign of his insolent ward. A large drop of rain splashed onto Simon's cheek. When a flash of lightning lit up the dark sky, Simon heard a faint whinny in the distance.

  He urged his borrowed mount on as a deluge fell from the sky. Simon squinted, trying to see through the blinding rain, and he hoped his horse knew the terrain better than he.

  He kicked his mount's belly, pushing him toward the darkness that now appeared to be shelter of some sort. His horse pressed forward, stopping only when Simon pulled up on his reins.

  A crofter's cottage.

  A momentary haven. There was a lean-to on the side of the cottage. He could tie his horse, wait for the worst of the storm to pass, and then continue his search for Oliver.

  Simon hopped from his saddle and led his horse to the make-do shelter. He stopped in his tracks, drenched from head to toe but incredibly relieved to have found a dry place to wait for the storm to pass.

  The scene that greeted him made his heart soar. Because, panicked and unhappy, Erebus already occupied the lean-to.

  Thirty-Two

  There wasn't a lot of extra room in the small shelter, but Simon managed to secure his horse to a rail beside Erebus. He patted his gelding's nose. The AngloArabian was of the twitchy sort and hated thunderstorms. If he panicked badly, he could tear down the cottage. "There, there, boy. I'll see you home. A little patience."

  Erebus calmed a bit at his touch, and Simon stroked his neck. The poor thing was traumatized. It was yet another sin to add to his long list of grievances against Oliver.

  Simon left the horses with another round of soothing words and stepped back out into the rain. He bolted for the front door of the cottage and threw it open, as rain poured off him in rivulets.

  At his entrance, Oliver leapt up from a small bed in the far corner of the room. The boy's face was ashen white, as well it should be, because Simon's blood boiled at the scene inside the cottage.

  While Simon had been caught out in the pouring rain looking for the pup, Oliver had been snug and warm in the cottage. Rain poured from Simon like water from a waterfall, yet Maberley was dry and comfortable.

  Simon shrugged out of his coat and shook his head like a dog. Water flew from his hair, and Oliver was forced to raise his hands in front of his face to avoid being drenched. It was no more than he deserved. The boy needed to learn what it meant to play with the big dogs. If not for him, Simon would be back at Westfield Hall with Lily.

  "How did you find me?" the boy had the nerve to ask.

  Simon scratched his bristly jaw. Then he tapped his temple with his forefinger. "Superior intellect. Wins every time." Simon flopped down in a chair heavily, all bounds of propriety suddenly absent, along with the desire to find them again. He crossed one foot over his knee. "You remind me so much of your father," he said, shaking his head in wonder. The boy looked just like Daniel, from the stubborn jut of his chin to the feral glint in his eye.

  Oliver sat forward but didn't say a word. Simon could tell he had the boy's attention at the mere mention of Daniel. "I found you because your father and I explored every inch of the grounds of Maberley Hall when we were young." He couldn't push back the smile that came with his memories. "There are not many secrets about these grounds that I don't already know." Simon took a deep breath. "We're also blessed with expanded senses." The puzzled look on the boy's face encouraged him to continue. "I smelled you. You haven't noticed that we have a greater sense of smell? That you can suddenly catch scents that you never would have caught before?"

  "I noticed," Oliver mumbled.

  "I thought you might. What else have you noticed?"

  Oliver turned his head to look toward the wall. The rain continued to pound outside the tiny cottage. Simon decided patience would be a great virtue. He would be truly grateful if he was ever granted some. He was trying desperately to find just a bit.

  "I'm sure you've noticed that you're growing. You're much bigger and stronger than other lads your age. And, despite your bulk, you're faster than they are."

  Oliver nodded but still refused to meet his eyes. Simon pressed on.

  "Does
it bother you to be one of us?"

  Oliver shook his head. "It doesn't bother me," he mumbled.

  "Yet you still don't think I'm good enough to be married to your Aunt Lily."

  Oliver's gaze finally swung to meet his. "That's not it."

  "Then why don't you tell me what it is so we can get this over with." Lily would be proud he hadn't picked the pup up by the scruff of his neck and shaken his secrets from him. He still wasn't completely opposed to that idea.

  Oliver just regarded him solemnly.

  "I remember when your father found out about our heritage, when he went through the change. He was two years younger than me, so I'd already been through it. But a Lycan is sworn to secrecy. It's never to be mentioned that you're different, except with members of your own kind." Simon wondered if Will had shared that with him. "You haven't told anyone yet, have you?" he asked, suddenly worried that the boy had been screaming it from the rooftops.

  "Like anyone would believe me," Oliver mumbled.

  Simon chuckled. "That's true. It does seem a little odd, doesn't it?"

  "Odd doesn't begin to describe it," Oliver said.

  "You'll learn to live with it in time, Oliver—" he started.

  "You never should have married her," the boy suddenly said.

  Finally, they were getting somewhere.

  Simon narrowed his eyes at him. "I know you don't think I'm good enough for her. But I care about her, and I promise to be kind to her."

  "But you'll claim her with the next moon. And hurt her," Oliver whispered, horrified.

  Simon sighed. He really hadn't thought he would be forced to discuss his sexual relationship with a twelve-year-old. But apparently there wasn't another way to make Oliver understand. "That's where you're wrong," he admitted.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Every Lycan has the choice of whether or not to take a mate. I know you've read about it and you know what occurs." He raised one eyebrow to prompt a response from the boy. Oliver nodded.

  "But what the books don't say is that a Lycan is not forced to claim his Lycan mate, even if he takes her as a wife."

  "I don't understand."

  Neither did Simon. "I took Lily to be my wife. She's mine. In every way." He prompted the boy to nod again and only continued once he did. "But I'll never take her as a Lycan mate."

  "Why not?"

  "Because she doesn't know what I am. And I prefer to keep it that way. I want her to have a normal marriage. And I want to share my life with her."

  "What about when the moon calls?"

  "When the moon calls, I'll do what I do now. I'll travel to Westfield Hall where I can seek the solitude of the forest. Alone. Then, when the moon begins to wane, I'll come back to her."

  "You won't bite her neck? And hurt her? Like the book said. Like my father did to my mother?"

  "How do you know about that?" Simon asked.

  "I remember she was afraid of him and tried to keep me from him. I was too young to wonder about why. She just did. And she always made sure her neck was covered, but I saw it once." Oliver frowned, looking at his own hands. "I didn't know he had done that to her until I read about the claiming in the book."

  Damn Will to hell. Daniel, too, for that matter. No wonder the boy was so fearful. Simon's heart ached for the pain he saw reflected in Oliver's eyes. "Your father and I are very different." When the lad started to speak, Simon held up a hand. "Wait, Oliver, because you need to listen first."

  Oliver nodded, his jaw twitching as he ground his teeth.

  "Your father didn't have anyone to teach him to be a man. Or a Lycan. His own father died when he was a boy, and though my father tried to help him, it wasn't enough."

  "And that's why he hurt Mama?" the boy's voice broke on the last few words.

  "Yes, he did," Simon said, refusing to show any emotion, though it rolled through him in waves. The boy needed strength, and he could show him that. "But your father loved her."

  "Then he shouldn't have hurt her!" he growled at Simon.

  He was quite glad the pup still had his milk teeth, because he would be a formidable foe when he was fully grown.

  "You're correct. But he didn't know any better. Daniel loved Emma so much. He wanted to share every part of himself with her. He did tell her about himself. And she chose to be with him, in his Lycan form, when the moon was full. She accepted that risk and trusted Daniel, but he couldn't control the beast."

  Simon stood and began to pace across the room. "Not until it was too late. He realized what he'd done after it was nearly over. But by then, he'd hurt her, shattered her trust, and she withdrew. It nearly killed him. And her. Because she'd wanted so badly to be

  that person

  for him. It wasn't his failure. And it wasn't hers."

  Simon knelt in front of Oliver where he still sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you afraid that will happen to you? And to someone you love? And to Lily?"

  Oliver simply nodded.

  "It won't. Because I won't let it," Simon snarled,

  suddenly even more sure that his decision to keep his Lycan ways a secret from Lily was a good one.

  "You will promise?" Oliver asked.

  "I will promise to guide you and teach you what you need to know, just as a Lycan father should. I'll never try to replace Daniel, but I'll try to teach you as he would. As someone should have taught him."

  Oliver stood alongside him and was nearly able to look him in the eye. He almost knocked Simon to the ground when he threw his arms around him and hugged him fiercely. All Simon could do was plant his feet, tighten his arms around Oliver, and accept the only bit of affection the boy had ever offered him.

  ***

  Lily paced back and forth across the foyer, biting her fingernails and mumbling to herself. It had been hours since Simon left. As soon as he'd turned the corner of the house, the skies had opened and rain had fallen from the heavens.

  While she waited, she and Findley had searched the entire residence. Not even the smallest wardrobe was left unsearched. Oliver was nowhere to be found.

  Now she didn't know what to do to keep busy. Where else would he have gone? Was he hurt somewhere? Had something happened to him? She'd never forgive herself if he came to harm.

  And then there was Simon. Shouldn't

  he

  have returned by now? Not that she was worried about his safety. Simon was indestructible, or at least he seemed that way to her. Hard. Solid. Strong. She so wished he was there. His presence would calm her. She wouldn't feel quite so alone.

  Lily returned to her old chambers. It felt odd being here again, like a glance into the recent past. So much had changed since she'd left Maberley Hall. Her journey certainly had turned into something she had never envisioned.

  She ran her hand over her old comfortable counterpane, while looking out the window at the drenched grounds beneath her. Thank heavens, it had stopped raining. Hopefully, that meant Simon would return soon, and together they could decide where to go from here. She would go mad if she had to figure this out alone.

  Movement caught her eye off in the distance, and Lily pressed her fingers against the cool pane of glass. She strained her eyes. It looked like two riders, but from where she stood, she couldn't be certain. Glued to her spot, she watched as the figures came nearer. As soon as she noticed Simon's distinctive build, she raced from the room, through the corridor, and down the grand staircase.

  Overjoyed, she didn't stop. Lily tore from the house, leaving a gaping Findley in her wake. She ran down the stone path toward the stables, reaching it right as Simon and Oliver rode up.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, and relief engulfed her at the sight of her nephew. Lily closed her eyes and silently thanked God for keeping him safe. "Oliver," she cried as he dismounted.

  He hung his head and shuffled his feet. "Sorry, Aunt Lily. I didn't mean to worry you."

  She threw her arms around his neck. The last of her composure fell away. Holding him, her heart overflowe
d. It wasn't her imagination. He was before her and safe and… Lily owed Simon everything for finding him.

  Her eyes flashed to her husband's. Drenched and scruffy, Simon was a complete mess, but she'd never seen a more handsome man. He barely inclined his head in greeting before he dismounted his chestnut stallion.

  She pulled back from Oliver, shaking her head at him. "Don't you ever do something that foolish again. It nearly killed me."

  He nodded, his brown eyes drooping like those of a scolded puppy. "I know, Aunt Lily. I'm sorry."

  She hugged him again. "I'm so glad you're safe." She felt a large, familiar hand on her shoulder.