Wolfsbane

by N. J. Layouni

  “Hmm?” As his blanket slipped lower, it exposed more of him for her eyes to devour. The silvery scars on the perfect musculature of his torso were familiar friends. Unable to stop herself, Martha trailed her fingers over the heat of his golden skin, up over his chest and journeying upward to his neck.

  Vadim leaned on his elbow, watching her. He didn’t move, but his eyes darkened.

  Holding her breath, she glided her fingers over the hard bulk of his bicep and down to the tense muscles of his forearm. His sword arm. Truth was, she’d always had a bit of a thing about that particular part of his anatomy. Amongst other things.

  What a fine start to the day. But how had she gotten back to her bedchamber? The last thing she remembered was sitting beside Anselm’s bed. She must have fallen asleep there.

  Or had she?

  “Oh!” Surely she’d remember if they’d—? Quickly grabbing a handful of the bedcovers, Martha peeked beneath them. No. She exhaled. Her shift was still in place though it had ridden up in the night and now lay bunched about her waist in an uncomfortable roll.

  Vadim chuckled. He leaned over, his hair spilling about her face in a black waterfall, blocking out everything but him. “You imagine I would slake my desire on a sleeping woman?” He traced his finger down her burning cheek. “No, love. When that moment comes, I will require your full participation.”

  “S-so, how did I get here?” She blushed even harder, suddenly a little shy of him and the intense scrutiny of those chocolate eyes. It was difficult to think straight when he was smoldering at her like that. Oh, damn! She sniffed, then hurriedly covered her mouth with her hands.

  “I carried you. You fell asleep while…” A frown creased Vadim’s brow. “What are you doing?”

  “Morning breath,” she squeaked from behind her hands.

  “Yours?” He moved nearer, gently prizing away her hands away from her mouth one digit at a time. “Or mine?”

  Definitely not his. Her stomach somersaulted. God, he looked good, hovering over her like a predatory bird. The dark scruff of his five-o’clock-shadow enhanced the sharp angles of his face, and that lush lower lip was tantalizingly close. Bite-ably so.

  Vadim sighed as he looked at her neck. “So many bruises.” Lowering his head, he kissed each one in turn. “My poor love. I should have taken my time killing those bastards. They died much too cleanly.”

  She didn’t doubt that he meant it. Pleasure wasn’t the only reason for the shiver racing up her spine. The subtle edge to his voice reminded her that beneath his handsome façade, Vadim was not just her gentle husband. He was many other things besides. The man in her bed was an outlaw and a warrior. A defender of the weak. A killer.

  Yesterday was the first time she’d seen him in action. She certainly didn’t mourn the passing of either Jacob or Ferret, but Vadim’s cold brutality at the time had shocked her. It wasn’t easy to reconcile the darker facets of his character with the tender man in her bed. But if she truly loved him, she’d find a way. And she did love him. Just looking at him made her heart ache. She must accept him as he was and hope that he accepted her in the same way.

  Thank God Anselm’s contribution to her little collection of bruises remained a secret. If Vadim ever learned of it, the tiny embers of brotherly love would be extinguished forever.

  Vadim’s hot breath brushed against her ear and banished Anselm from her mind. She closed her eyes and relaxed, slowly trailing her fingers up and down his back. Each movement of his lips raised a thousand goosebumps. He smelt so good. The leather he habitually wore had permeated his skin. Combined with the scent of fresh man-flesh, its effect was as effective as female Viagra, albeit a very medieval version.

  His calloused hand grazed lightly over her thigh, and she arched towards him, her body responding with a will of its own. If he didn’t kiss her soon she’d explode. She squirmed, hitching her shoulder and forcing his attention away from her neck.

  “Kiss me,” she said, holding his face between her hands.

  “But what about your morning breath?” Vadim asked with a smile.

  “Feck it,” she growled as their lips met.

  Fireworks replaced the butterflies in her stomach. Without words, she used her mouth to express just how much she’d missed him, a deep and drugging kiss that had only one conclusion. Vadim groaned from the depths of his throat. In one fluid movement he pulled her to lie on top of him, cupping the back of her head to kiss her more thoroughly, while his free hand roamed her body, stroking and kneading at will.

  Martha tangled her hands in the silken weight of his hair, reveling in the taste of him and the feel of the powerful body beneath hers. With each gentle stroke of his fingers, he gradually erased the memory of other, less welcome, hands.

  His heart thundered beneath hers, matching the wild rhythm in her breast. The heat of his naked chest burned her, absorbed her. She felt herself melting into him.

  With trembling fingers, she reached for the fastening of his trews and tugged impatiently at the ties. She wanted him. All of him. Now.

  Vadim clamped his hand about her wrist and wrenched his mouth from hers. “’Tis too soon, love.” His breath came in ragged gasps. “Yesterday, when those bastards…” The fire in his eyes flared. He shook his head. “What I mean to say is, I can wait—”

  “Tough. I can’t.”

  Despite his noble words, she could feel how much he wanted her. Taking his lower lip between her teeth, Martha sucked on it while gently pressing her hips to the hardness of his body. His resulting groan made her smile. She let go of his lip and looked down at him. “I’ve waited quite long enough, don’t you think?”

  “What about the baby?” he asked. “Might he be harmed if we—”

  She tried not to laugh, for he looked so serious. Instead, she smiled, smoothing away his frown with her finger. “You’re big, sweetheart, it’s true. But you’re not that big.”

  It was the snort-giggle that gave her away.

  “You dare to mock me, wife?” Vadim rolled and took her with him, imprisoning her between him and the mattress.

  All control gone, Martha dissolved into helpless laughter until tears blurred her vision.

  Vadim’s lips twitched. “I should punish you for such disrespectful talk.”

  Punishment? Martha stopped laughing. “Really?” she asked, hopefully. This day kept on getting better and better. “Did you… er… have anything particular in mind?”

  “Oh, yes.” Taking her unresisting wrists in one hand, Vadim held them over her head, and pushed them down into the soft pillow. “Several things.” His breath caressed her lips as he murmured against them. “Be assured, wife, I will have you pleading for mercy before the sun sets on this day.”

  “Promises, promises.” A surge of excitement rippled through her body. The vulnerability of her position was strangely empowering. In her own way, she knew she possessed a strength to match his. Brute strength and swords weren’t the only weapons in life. Her only concern was that she might beg for mercy too soon.

  Their smiles faded. Vadim transferred her wrists to one hand and tugged at the lacing of her shift, jerking it with his index finger. “Have a care, love,” he said softly, never looking away from her face. “You know I never break my vows.”

  A rush of excitement rippled through her body. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  The neckline of her shift loosened and sagged, revealing what the thin linen fabric concealed. Vadim glanced down, and the breath hitched in his throat. “Erde!”

  Ah! He’d seen the gift from the Boob Fairy. No wonder he was staring. Her breasts were much fuller than the last time he’d seen them. Martha smiled and gave a little wriggle, quite unembarrassed. “You think you can make me beg? Then, go right ahead and try. Do your worst, Lord Hemlock.”

  Hunger finally drove them from their bed. Well, that and her refusal to use the cham
ber pot while Vadim was in the room. Chuckling at her modesty, he went out to forage for food, leaving Martha to perform her ablutions in peace.

  Humming to herself, she washed and dressed, mentally reliving some of the highlights of the past couple of hours. There were plenty to choose from. Overwhelmed with happiness, she laughed out loud, unable to hold back the geyser of joy inside of her. Vadim loved her. Any lingering doubts she’d had were gone, vanishing like smoke in the wind.

  Sitting before the sheet of polished metal that served as her mirror, she gazed at her reflection. A stranger stared back at her, bright blue eyes sparkling in her bruised but smiling face. Despite all that had happened, she felt beautiful, and Vadim was responsible for it. She liked the way he made her feel. Sudden tears misted her eyes as she remembered how he’d spoken to the baby, with his face pressed against her stomach, murmuring to it in the Old Tongue.

  “What are you saying?” she’d asked as she lay back in bed, lazily sifting the weight of his silken hair through her fingers.

  Vadim looked up, smiling. “I am telling him how much I love you—both of you.” The tenderness in his eyes struck her like a physical blow, and almost ripped her heart from her chest. She cried so hard, she thought she’d never stop.

  He’d held her close, cradling her and murmuring soft words of nonsense into her hair until her sobs subsided into hiccups. Then he cupped her face gently between his hands. “Harken to me, Martha. Hear me well.” His dark eyes glittered, burning into her soul. He wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “The past is dead, for both of us. Our new world begins this very day. Here. Now. In this bed. The time of doubt and uncertainty is gone.”

  He looked so grave, she wondered what was coming.

  “I have been the worst of husbands, but no more. You are my life… my love… my heart’s ease.” He punctuated his words with tiny kisses pressed to her brow and cheeks. “You are my woman, and no one shall part us again. From this day on, come what may, your place is at my side. Do you understand?”

  Her nodded reply wasn’t enough for him. “Say it!” he growled against her lips.

  “Yes, I understand.” But even as she’d spoken, somewhere deep inside the loved-up mush of her brain, a tiny bell had jingled in warning.

  Martha frowned at herself in the mirror. How had she forgotten that?

  Now that Vadim was out of the room, her raging hormones had settled down to a low simmer, allowing her brain the chance to reboot. His closeness had always affected her ability to think clearly. But feral hormones combined with Vadim naked in her bed equaled a complete sensory overload.

  Picking up her hair brush, she moved it gently through her tangled hair, trying to avoid the most painful areas of her scalp. Even at the time, she’d sensed a hidden subtext behind his words, but now she was sure of it. As sure as God made little green apples, something was definitely “off.”

  She hit a knot, and winced at the pressure on her tender scalp. Sod it. She threw down the hairbrush and scowled at her reflection. What wasn’t Vadim telling her? From past experience, she knew he wouldn’t talk about it until he was good and ready—just one of the perils of being married to the Lord of the Secret Squirrels.

  Her stomach grumbled, focusing her mind on more mundane matters. God, she was ravenous. If she didn’t eat soon she might resort to gnawing on the furniture.

  Vadim’s cloak hung on the peg behind the door. A quick rummage through his pockets rewarded her with a large, slightly damp, chunk of rock wafer. She flicked off a couple of dead weevils and took a sniff. Women with hormonal cravings, she’d discovered, weren’t overly fussy when it came to getting their fix. Or perhaps that was just her? She took a bite. Perfect. The wafer was still crunchy in the middle.

  Maybe she ought to go and see how Anselm was doing. She opened the door and looked out into the main reception room. It was empty, apart from Forge, who lay stretched out on his blanket before the glowing fire. Not a trace of last night’s party remained; everything was neat and clean. Effie must have been busy. Where was she now? Probably trailing Fergus about the castle.

  At the sound of her footsteps, the dog scrambled to his feet, swaying toward her, his long tail lashing in lazy sweeps.

  “Hello, sweetie.” Martha scratched the base of his ear. “Where did everyone go?”

  If he knew, he certainly wasn’t telling. He leaned against her legs, groaning with doggy bliss. She fussed him for a couple of minutes then went toward Anselm’s room.

  She hovered outside the door, suddenly reluctant to go in. Watching someone die slowly and painfully was horrible. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a bucket of laughs for Anselm either right now. Giving herself a mental slap, she took a deep breath and opened the door. “It’s only me.”

  “M’lady?” Edric stood up as she entered the room. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, no. I just wanted to see how Anselm’s doing today.” Just one look at him told her more than she wanted to know. Red cheeked, his hair slick with sweat, Anselm twitched and writhed on the bed, mumbling to himself in words too low to decipher. Martha’s smile faded. “How long has he been like this?”

  “Several hours.”

  She leaned on the bed, gently pressing her hand to Anselm’s brow—much too hot. He moaned and flinched away from her touch as though it hurt him. “Where’s Agatha?” she asked, glancing at Edric over her shoulder.

  “I sent her to find some rest. The poor lass was almost swooning with fatigue.” He handed Martha a cold damp cloth to place on Anselm’s brow.

  She experienced a sharp pang of guilt. Poor Agatha. She’d spent the night nursing a man she loathed while she herself had passed the hours much more pleasurably. “Have you been here all night too, Edric?” He must have. Dark bags hung in heavy drapes beneath his bloodshot eyes. “You look exhausted. Go and get some sleep. I’ll watch him now.”

  “With your leave, I will stay.” Edric lowered himself back into his chair. “I cannot desert my post.”

  “Why not?” She perched on the edge of the bad. “I’m more than capable of looking after him for a while.” For a man so universally disliked, Anselm had certainly acquired a devoted band of people willing to care for him recently.

  “I meant you no insult.” A pink flush spread over Edric’s face, banishing the weary tinge from his complexion. “What I meant was, I should prefer to stay until my lady returns and gives me leave to depart.”

  “Ah!” Now she understood. “Agatha, huh? She asked you to sit with him?”

  Edric nodded, the movement dislodging a strand of hair from where it had been slicked over the shining dome of his head. “I would rather endure another battle than face the wrath of Lady Agatha.” Despite his words, he smiled, and a dreamy expression glazed his eyes.

  He’d got it bad all right. “You really are fond of her, aren’t you?”

  “What man would not be moved by such a woman?” He sighed, handing Martha a bowl of water to wring out Anselm’s head cloth. “Of course, she would never consider such an ill-bred buffoon as I for a suitor.”

  “She might.” Martha couldn’t believe she was encouraging him, especially since Edric was more or less quoting Agatha’s exact words on the subject.

  “There is no need to humor me, girl. I know what I am better than anyone.” With a sad little smile, Edric settled back in his chair and stretched out his legs. “Still, it is enough to be in her company and earn her favor. That is why I will not relinquish my post, not even to you, Lady Edgeway.”

  “Huh?” What had he just called her? “Lady who now?”

  Edric flushed. “Have I spoken prematurely? Forgive me. I thought the matter resolved. ’Tis common knowledge King Rodmar has restored the titles of his most faithful servants.”

  “Not to me it isn’t.” I don’t fecking believe this. Martha wrung out the wet cloth with unnecessary force and placed it upon Anselm
’s waxen brow. She struggled to keep her voice calm. “You’re telling me King Rodmar has made Vadim the new Earl of Edgeway?”

  “So I believe, yes.”

  “And I suppose this castle comes with the title?”

  Edric nodded. “Certainly, and all the lands attached to it. A most profitable and satisfactory outcome all round.”

  Satisfactory? That was one word for it.

  “I fear I have said too much. Speak to your husband, m’lady.”

  “Oh, I fully intend to.” Unbelievable. How could Vadim agree to something like this without discussing it with her first? No wonder he’d given her that talk last night. Your place is forever by my side. Yeah, right. Well, if he thought she’d be living in Edgeway castle anytime soon, he had another think coming.

  She slid off the bed and thrust the bowl of water into Edric’s hands. “I can see Anselm’s in good hands. I’ll leave you to it.” She forced her mouth into a smile. “Sorry, Edric.” It wasn’t fair to take her bad mood out on the messenger. “None of this is your fault. Excuse me.”

  She marched out of the bedchamber and began pacing the living room. How could Vadim possibly imagine she’d agree to live in this… this… abattoir? The castle was nothing but a prison full of bloody memories. No amount of scrubbing would wash the dreadful stains from her mind. She wouldn’t raise their child here. No way.

  If Vadim wanted to live out his dead father’s dream, so be it. But she wouldn’t be doing it with him.

  She smiled bitterly. What else had she expected? That they’d go back to Darumvale and live out their happily ever after there? Yeah, right. That was her dream, not his. Vadim had always seemed too big for the tiny village, and now she knew why. Darumvale wasn’t his real home, and it never would be.

  Her anger increased with every step until she could hardly breathe. The walls of the castle seemed to press down on her, oppressive and cold.