Defiance at Werewolf Keep (Werewolf Keep Trilogy) Page 2

  No, he didn’t love this little waif. He would never let himself love anyone again. This was just a pleasant divergence from the monotony of his life. She was a pretty novelty he wanted to explore. Not sexually, of course. None of them had sexual relationships, though the urge was probably greater now than it ever was when they were human. But the dangers of sex were too great to consider.

  Or they had been, up until Jasper Horton met Fidelia Montgomery. And now, for the first time in their history, a werewolf was married to a human. Happily married, from all indications, and there seemed to be no ill-effects from their union. They even knew that any child borne to them would be free of the infection. But that had been a recent discovery, and none of the rest of the denizens of the Keep had felt like testing out that discovery.

  Because it wasn’t just fear of the unknown that kept them insulated from others, it was their own self-loathing, the innate belief they didn’t deserve the kind of happiness humanity experienced. They were monsters, separated from humanity by their contagion and the things that contagion had made them do. And monsters didn’t deserve pleasure.

  That was certainly the case for him. There would be no sexual pleasure, not even with this delightful young woman who looked at him with such perplexed adoration, as if she couldn’t quite work out why she was drawn to him. And she was drawn to him, as much as he was to her, he could scent her attraction as surely as he had scented her presence the moment he’d walked into her parents’ shop the day before.

  But unlike Jasper, he wasn’t about to let that attraction take over his good sense. He wouldn’t break all their rules to be with a woman, risking others’ lives in pursuit of her. No, Will was made of sterner stuff than that. Duty was everything to him. It was the core of his identity. It made his life meaningful and gave it purpose. Love simply distracted a man from his course, like the sirens distracted Ulysses. He would not succumb to the siren’s call.

  But he could enjoy her company. There was no harm in that.

  * * *

  Lily smiled down at the man who had accompanied her to the station, fighting a momentary pang of uncharacteristic jealousy. Why should it matter to her that this gentle ruffian thought highly of another woman – this Fidelia Horton? He was nothing to her.

  But her eyes lingered on him, just as her hand had lingered in his of its own accord as he passed her up into the train. She took in everything about him as if exploring a delightful gift she was unwrapping. His dark, expressive eyes twinkled up at her, fringed by impossibly thick, dark lashes. That broken nose, which had once been long and straight, added character to his otherwise regular features. His skin was tanned brown from years in the outdoors, and there were wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that were likely formed by squinting and grimacing rather than from laughter, even though he was grinning mischievously at her in this moment.

  His dark, grey-streaked hair was overlong and shaggy, and she had the oddest desire to run her fingers through it, to see if it was as soft as she imagined. And he was broad-shouldered and muscular. With one foot on the train step and the other still on the platform, he looked strong enough to hold the train in place until he was ready for it to leave. She stifled a giggle at the whimsical thought.

  She tried to think of something else to say. She wanted to keep him talking. His lilting Scottish accent was a pleasure to the ear. It was not strong, so she assumed he had spent many years away from his homeland, but it was there. And it pleased her to listen to it spoken in such a gruff baritone.

  But no new topics of conversation came to mind and she realised she could hold the moment no longer. With a little sigh of regret, she forced herself to turn away and move into the train compartment.

  She had never travelled before. In fact, she had never left her home before, except to go to the doctor’s at the end of the street. It had never bothered her, this enforced captivity, for she had always had her imagination. While trapped in her bed, body racked by one illness or another, she had travelled the world in her mind. Not only the world, but time itself. She had explored Ancient Egypt and Rome, had travelled the Silk Road and the Congo.

  For all that, it was exciting to be taking her first real journey. Had her parents not been left behind to worry about her, it would have been the most thrilling moment of her life.

  But she was concerned about her parents, most especially her father. He had been so angry after the men had left the shop the day before that Lily had thought he might suffer apoplexy. She'd had to call her mother to help calm him.

  For hours they talked, circling around and around the problem until her Papa had finally given in to the inevitable. Her Majesty’s laws must be obeyed. And it wasn't as if they could just pack up and disappear. All the family's money was tied up in the business. They had nowhere else to go.

  So, with red eyes and a tense grimace, her father said his goodbyes that morning when the men had come to collect her. And though it was her mother who had cried and hugged her like she would never let her go, Lily knew that it was her Papa who would be the one to miss her most. If she didn't come home soon, she knew his heart would break without her.

  To keep her mind off her worries, Lily removed her bonnet, pulled out a book from her reticule and sat down on the velvet seat next to the carriage window. It was like sitting in a luxurious parlour, ornate and carpeted. Even the windows were curtained in heavy brocade.

  The grey-haired Scot sat across from her and looked at her book. It was a small volume of poetry by Christina Rossetti, titled 'The Goblin Market and other Poems'. There was a picture of a reclining, embracing couple on the front which seemed to rouse his curiosity.

  'Lovers?' he asked, nodding at the cover. Lily looked at the front of the volume and laughed.

  'I do hope not. They are sisters. The one falls foul of the Goblin Men's forbidden fruit and the other faces the same temptations to save her sister's life,' she explains.

  'And that is an etching by Miss Rosetti’s brother Dante, if I'm not mistaken,' interrupted a doll-like woman who had just entered the compartment so quietly that neither Lily nor Will had noticed. 'I do so love Rossetti’s paintings. So vivid and alive! So sensual. I used to see them as unrealistic...' The young, blonde-haired lady was lost for a moment in revelry as she removed her hat, and then sighed deeply as she sat down, her porcelain-fine skin colouring a pretty pink.

  'But no more?' Will queried, a playful smile transforming his rough features into something close to handsome. Lily felt jealousy tearing at her insides again. She had no chance of competing with this beautiful, elegant woman for Will’s affections.

  The lady fluttered her eyelashes at him and sat down next to Lily. 'Now I see his painting as a perfect replication of Passion's true perception.'

  The tall man called Byron Carstairs was the last to enter the compartment and he seated himself next to Will. 'Ah, Grand Passion! You and Phil amuse me with your enthusiasm for the concept.'

  'I would think that, as Philomena’s Grand Passion, you would be less amused and more grateful for her adoration.'

  Byron laughed and shook his head. 'Darling Dee, I am eternally grateful for my wife's adoration, whatever you two wish to call it. As I imagine Jasper is, to be the subject of your adoration.'

  'Much to his total bemusement,' Will added.

  'Bemusement?' Fidelia asked in mock horror.

  'That anything as ravishing as you could make him the subject of her adoration.'

  'Oh yes, well, Jasper still cannot get over his fixation with the beast. To him, it is all he is. To me, it is a tiny part, only. I love the whole being. He has trouble understanding that.'

  Byron cleared his throat to put an end to the subject.

  Beast? This mysterious Jasper was fixated on a beast? Whatever did she mean?

  But at least it appeared as if the lady’s affections were engaged elsewhere.

  'Enough idle prattle. Let me make the introductions. Lily, I would like you to meet Lady Fidelia Horton, the new wife
of Jasper, Earl of Barringford, one of our long-term residents. Dee, may I introduce you to Miss Lily Farnsworth, our newest resident.'

  'And as no formal introductions have been made of me, I am Mr William McManners, also a resident of Breckenhill Keep,' Will added with a flourish at the end of the introductions.

  'Sorry, old man, I forgot about you. Did I not introduce you yesterday?'

  'No, you did not. As far as Miss Lily is concerned, I am your lackey, not worthy of an introduction.' Will smiled to take the seriousness from his words.

  'You are my right-hand man, Will, not a lackey. I never travel with lackeys.'

  'Resident? Does that mean you have this contagion, too?' Lily asked, looking at Will with concern.

  'We have quite a bit to tell you about your condition on this journey,' Byron answered. 'For the moment, just accept that we are a community like no other. We have our own code of conduct that must be enforced for the safety of all concerned. Will, here, has the task of enforcing that code of conduct, whether at the Keep or elsewhere. He is also one of the many who suffer the contagion. '

  'You make me sound like a thug,' Will grumbled.

  'You are neither a criminal nor a ruffian, my dear man. Would you prefer I call you our Constable?'

  'Och, no! I bear no resemblance to them blue-suited monkeys with their big black sticks. I use ma fists to make ma point.' His brogue was suddenly much more distinctive in his mock disgust.

  'Will was a sergeant in Her Majesty’s Light Infantry in the Crimean War and then turned his hand to pugilism when he returned to Britain,' Fidelia informed her.

  'Pugilism? You were a boxer?' Lily asked in surprise.

  'Can't yer tell, lass? I wasn'a born with ma nose bent this many directions. Aye, and didn't it spoil ma pretty-boy looks, too?' One side of Will’s mouth quirked up in amusement.

  'You cannot blame boxing for the face the Lord gave you,' bantered Byron.

  'At least I have an excuse for looking like a piece of uncut rock, what's yours?'

  'Gentleman, please, you are frightening Lily. She does not know you well enough yet to understand your … ways,' Fidelia scolded with mock disapproval.

  In all honesty, Lily was a little frightened by the men's attitude toward each other. She had never been a part of a large family. She had no understanding of playful insults that could form part of the cement that bound one part to another. Her parents were never anything but polite to each other and had never spoken an angry or reproving word to her, so for someone to insult another so rudely seemed the action of an enemy, not that of a friend.

  The train tooted its whistle and the guardsmen blew theirs to alert the driver that all passengers were safely on board. With a loud chuff-chuff-chuff the steam train began to chug its way slowly out of the glass-enclosed station.

  A thrill of excitement ran up her spine. Whatever this infection was, it couldn’t be any worse than what she had experienced in the past. She had felt like she was living on borrowed time since she was twenty, the age her doctor had predicted her death. That she had outlived his estimate, and now had this opportunity for adventure, no matter its eventual result, was one to be cherished.

  She could smell the heavy, acrid odour of coal in the air. And a few burning cinders flew in the window. She moved away from the opening and looked for a way to close it. Will, seeing her dilemma, reached over and pulled the wood-framed window up, leaving a gap at the top to let the warm air out.

  ‘Thank you. I wasn’t expecting cinders,’ she said softly as he finished with the window and sat back down across from her again. His long legs were like book ends on either side of her own. The pose was so relaxed and yet so ungentlemanly that Lily wasn’t sure whether to be discomforted or soothed by it.

  This man had the contagion that her madman attacker had. But he seemed perfectly at ease with his condition. Could it be so bad if he were allowed out and about, and exhibited no signs of disease?

  Blushing at the intense gaze he kept on her, she looked away, out the window. For the first time in her life, she was going to see the world beyond her street. And though she thought she knew from her reading what to expect, the novelty of it was still exciting.

  The changing view beyond the window didn’t disappoint. It proved endlessly fascinating to her, hour after long hour that passed. The built-up city gave way to countryside. Countryside sped by, replaced first by dark and dismal towns and factories, then by quaint villages with children playing in the streets. It was a whole varied world flying past her and she was witness to it all over a few short hours. Nothing could distract her from the view, even the arrival of the maid who came to offer them refreshments.

  * * *

  Will kept his own watch. Lily was the most fascinating creature he had ever met. Her name suited her completely. Poised on the edge of her seat, watching the different scenes passing them by, she looked as delicate as a flower. Her pointed elfin face with its huge, violet eyes stared with rapt attention at every new tree, carriage or hillside they passed. She was like a child seeing the world for the first time.

  That idea seemed absurd. She was a woman in her mid-twenties, though she looked younger because of her thinness. Surely, she had to have seen something of the world in all those years.

  He decided to test his theory as he handed her the tea cup he’d been given by the maid. 'Here you go, lass, drink some tea. It's been a long time since you broke your fast.'

  Lily turned away from the window long enough to take the proffered cup and saucer with a smile and a nod. She sipped at the hot tea as she turned back to stare out the window.

  'Have you nev’r travelled by train before, Miss Lily?' he asked.

  'Oh, no, I have never travelled further than the end of our street, to the doctor’s premises. If I'm well enough, he prefers it if I visit him for our appointments because he has more of his equipment there. Mama and I would ride down the street by carriage, as it was considered too far for me to walk.'

  Will stared at her in astonishment. Her blithe acceptance of her limited experience humbled him. What must it be like to never go beyond the end of your street and the only greenery to be had, the walled garden behind her home? The image of a bird in a gilded cage came to mind.

  'You have been poorly a long time, then?' he asked gently.

  'Oh, yes, all my life. My mother had a difficult confinement and I came into the world earlier than expected. My lungs weren't properly formed, the doctor said. They didn't expect me to live. But I did. And for that I am always grateful, no matter how onerous life can be at times. So, until now, it has been a somewhat limited life in most ways. When I was well enough I worked in the shop, but for the rest of the time I was confined to my room. Or the garden in good weather. But I love to read and I have a very fertile imagination, my mother informs me. I am rarely bored. I would also do the shop's bookkeeping. I liked to help out, if I could. I hate being a burden.'

  'You poor dear, what a life you have had to suffer!' Fidelia exclaimed with genuine concern. She took Lily's gloved hand in hers and pressed it.

  Will had been sceptical about this little noblewoman when she had first arrived on their doorstep in winter, expecting her to put on the usual airs and graces of her kind. But she had proved to be as genuine and unaffected as any lesser-born woman might be, and her kindness and compassion had quickly won them all over.

  It didn’t hurt that she loved one of them enough to give up her old life for him. Someone like the former Duchess of Clarence could have had the world on a plate had she wanted it. Instead, she had settled for one room in a rundown Castle Keep in the wilds of the Yorkshire Moors, just so she could be with the man she loved.

  'I have had a good life, Lady Horton, much more so than many people. I have had loving parents, good food, and comfortable and safe surroundings in which to indulge my passion for learning. There are many, so I have read, who cannot say the same.' Lily obviously didn't like being pitied, even when it was meant in such a kindly way. She
gently extracted her hand from Fidelia's.

  'Please, call me Dee. Lady Horton is still an unfamiliar title. I am more likely to answer to Lady Montgomery.' Fidelia gave a little laugh to cover up the discomfort she obviously felt at the polite rebuke.

  'Montgomery? As in the Duke of Clarence?' Lily asked, seemingly contrite and trying to make up for it by engaging in a more socially acceptable exchange. The conversation had ebbed and flowed around her all morning, but she had seemed to pay no attention to it. Now, she blushed at her own social shortcomings.

  If she had lived the life of an invalid, how had she learned to be comfortable with strangers? The inane prattle that passed for social intercourse annoyed Will mightily, but he understood the need for it. But it didn’t come naturally to him, and it now seemed likely that such was the case with this young invalid, too.

  'I was the widow of the Duke of Clarence,' Fidelia indicated her black bombazine dress and the mourning broach pinned to her bodice. ‘As most of the Ton do not know I have remarried, when I come to London, I retain the outer trappings of my mourning. When I get home I will change into more appropriate clothing. A new wife does not mourn the husband she no longer has, but celebrates the one she does.’

  Lily stared at the widow’s weeds as if taking in their significance for the first time. Mortified, she stumbled over her apology. 'I am so sorry, I didn't realise. I didn't notice your apparel …'

  'My dear, please, do not trouble yourself. I wear black in the city because it is still less than a year since my first husband passed. I was sad at the loss, but not heartbroken. In many ways, it is only when I visit London and see my family and friends that I remember that part of my life at all. So much has changed in so short a time. You will understand when you have been at Breckenhill Keep for a few months.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  'A few months? Surely the quarantine won't require me to be away that long?' Lily asked fearfully, the mortification she had felt the moment before forgotten as her new concerns reared their heads.