Imprisoned at Werewolf Keep (Werewolf Keep Trilogy) (4 page)

'Hmmm. You were lucky. I think the layers of material have saved you from an open wound. You have no idea what a relief that is to me. The arm will blacken and look far worse than it is. But
in a week or so you should have nothing to show for this unpleasantness.'

The intensity with
which Phil had studied the injury unsettled her. Even if the skin had been broken, it would only have been a scratch. Hardly life threatening. But it seemed that, for Phil, such a scratch would have been like the end of the world. She couldn't ever remember her friend being so overly dramatic. There was something wrong here, she could feel it.             

'T
he fire is warm in here and this is the most pleasant room in the Keep. Let us be daring and sit up here and drink some tea. You can enjoy being able to breathe again and having that contraption off. I have no idea why fashion dictates that women be so tortured. That stupid crinoline hoop is impossible. I will never follow fashion if it insists on such nonsense.'

Fidelia
found herself being led to a large satin-covered armchair in front of the raging fire. Although she agreed with Phil about modern fashions, she would never bring herself to go against them. After all, what would people say?

While Maude went off to find the parlo
ur-maid and order their tea, Phil offered Fidelia a satin dressing gown of rose blush to cover her undergarments. Then she stretched out in the armchair across from Fidelia.

'Now this feels like old times. Just us
, with none of the frippery, sharing a cosy moment.' Phil sounded dreamy as she stared into the fire, a soft smile playing across her lips.

'We had some fine times wh
en we were girls, didn't we?' Fidelia said, feeling the subtle spell of nostalgia overtaking her. 'I wish we never had to grow up. I wish...But that is nonsense. We all grow up. And grow apart. That is life, is it not?' She wished she had been able to keep the note of sadness from her voice.

'Yes, unfortunately we do. But there ar
e advantages to that. If I had not grown up and inherited this place, I never would have met the love of my life. You have no idea what a difference that makes. You cannot understand. Howard...well, Howard just was not the right man for you.'

'I doubt there is a right m
an for me, Phillie, dear. Grand Passion like you have found is for larger-than-life people like you, not little white mice like me. I will probably find another Howard, when my mourning period is over, and live a very comfortable life in London. I may even be lucky enough to have children this time.' The plaintive note was still there, though she wished it wasn't.

'Grand P
assion? Yes, that is what Byron and I share. We have known each other for nine months, been together for six, and married for five. Such a short time in the scheme of things. But I cannot imagine life without him. But you do not have to settle for less than that for yourself this time, Dee. Your mother bullied you into marrying Howard. This time you can choose your own mate.'

'Talking about
Grand Passion, will I get to meet the mysterious Byron Carstairs this morning? I came all the way to Yorkshire to meet him, you know. I have plans to win him away from you. Although I probably should not have told you that.' She giggled at her own silliness, as she attempted to change the direction of the conversation. Fidelia knew it was impossible to convince Phil that she was incapable of experiencing Grand Passion. So it really was better to change the subject.

'Yes, Byron is around somewhere.
Probably talking to Jasper, I imagine. Jas will be mortified by his behaviour. Look, here comes the tea. Now we can enjoy our refreshment and discuss what really brought you all the way to the wilds of Yorkshire. And I do not believe for a moment that you came to steal my husband from me. You would never steal anything, even if it was bread to fill your empty stomach. '

The bedroom door
had opened and a little dark-haired maid entered, carrying a silver tea service. Maude followed behind with another tray loaded down with cakes. Fidelia chuckled happily. There were no concerns here about having enough to fill her empty stomach. She wondered whether her stays would ever be tightened again.

Jasper raced down to the cells below and locked himself in, throwing the key across the marble floor so that he couldn’t reach it. Then he threw himself down onto the cold stone slab that passed for a bed in the cell.

His mind was reeling. All he could think about was
the doll-like woman's tiny upper arm he’d been gripping so tightly. She would be bruised from such rough treatment, he realised. The irrational beast within him had taken control and hurt the tiny creature.

How could he not have seen the signs and stayed in lockdown until he was fully himself? But it wasn’t like him to suffer echoes after the change. He was aghast
at his behaviour. If Phil hadn’t arrived, he had no idea what he would have done to the little woman.             

The part of him that was still beast was aware of her scent
, even with two levels of the Keep now separating them. He tried to fight it, but it wrapped itself around him like a bitch in heat, tantalizing him.

This was m
adness. He didn't know what was wrong. When he’d been with her, he’d wanted to tear the black clothes from her pale body and claim her, right there in the entry hall. It didn’t matter that there were others present or that she was clearly terrified of him. All his focus was on her and the tantalizing scent she gave off.             

This was madness. This was the beast at its worst. And just when he was starting to come to terms with his condition, starting to find a way forward for himself,
this reversal happened. In this moment, he was as wild as the first time he’d turned.

Fighting for control
, Jasper fisted his hands and pressed them into his temples. If hitting his head against the stone wall would have helped, he would have done just that, until the blood poured. But experience had taught him that pain only made the beast wilder. His best recourse was to hold himself as still and quiet as possible, and try to regain the upper hand.

It was her scent that was doing it. Now that he recognised it, h
e realized he'd felt this way from the moment he’d come upstairs and heard the carriage outside. Up until that moment he’d been normal, or as normal as any of them could be shortly after they came back to themselves. But as soon as he caught her scent, it was as if a beacon had been switched on and he’d been helplessly guided toward it.

His mind had latched onto the only rational explanation for his heightened emotions. He'd been worried about the missing woman the night before
. So he’d hastily jumped to the conclusion that the beacon must be her. Her late arrival could only mean one thing. Last night she’d endangered others, maybe even killed. The selfishness of those who fought against their new reality never ceased to frustrate and anger him. Why did they think they had the right to continue on with their lives once they were infected? They had to know what they’d become. They had to know the harm they could now cause.

All that he had planned to do when he went to the carriage was berate her for her tardiness. Instead, he’d dragged her bodily from her vehicle and forced her to go with him. Each step had allowed her scent to invade him more fully, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

Thank God for Philomena. Had she not stepped in, he might have done anything...

Shuddering
, he pressed his fists into his temples, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He began shaking uncontrollably and his breath came in harsh, desperate gasps.

What was happening to him? He had never been like this before. Normally
, he woke from his change calm and human. But not today. What had brought this new insanity on? He began to weep in frustration and despair.

Only a short while later
, he heard the sound of footsteps on the marble passageway. Then Byron’s large frame filled the tunnel entrance. He looked troubled and more tired than usual.

'W
hat happened, Jas?' Byron demanded, coming to stand on the other side of the bars. Until he was certain there was no danger, Byron wouldn't open the door to the cell and come inside. It was the rule and, even for his best friend, Byron wouldn't bend it. He knew what could happen if he let his guard down, even for a second.

'I wish I knew,' Jasper replied, turning to look at t
he tall man who gripped the barred door as if he wanted to twist it off its hinges.

He knew Byron
had heard what had happened. It was impossible for him not to, in their little closed community. It was clear that he was angry and having trouble controlling his emotions. But Jasper also knew that none of that anger was actually directed at him. That attitude was what made his Guardian such an amazing human being. He never blamed any of the inmates for their behaviour. He was angry at the circumstances. And, possibly, at himself for letting it happen. But he was never angry at the monsters themselves.

'I was fine after the change. No
echoes. I got dressed and Jamey unlocked the door. I am always one of the first to come back. Well, I was. Now look at me. Everyone else is back to their daily lives and I am stuck in here.'

Here was a bare and uncomfortable place, although the
fire at the far end of the dungeons kept the temperature bearably warm. The dungeons had been dank, filthy and rat-infested in their previous incarnation. But Captain Davenport had converted them to a much more habitable condition after he bought the Keep. For all that, the cells still had to be heavily barred and empty of furnishings. Nothing would remain of furniture or bedding left in the cells after a night with their occupants.

Charlotte had insisted
the women's wing be whitewashed and the floors inlaid with white marble. She argued that their beasts may not notice their surroundings, but for the period before and after the change, she certainly did. So she wanted her surroundings to be as aesthetic as possible.

The marble inserts were before his time. Charlotte had been one of the first to join Captain Davenport at the Keep
and she’d played a big part in its refurbishment. Jasper didn't care about aesthetics. For him, their imprisonment for three nights a month could be as harsh as it needed to be. The beast didn’t deserve any better.             

'Is the woman
all right? She probably warrants far worse than a few bruises for the risks she took. But still, I have never raised a hand to a woman before. I cannot understand why I did today.'

'Yes, Fidelia
is fine. Her maid says she and Phil are having a good old natter up there in the bedroom. Phil wanted to check her over, of course. To make sure you had not broken the skin.'

'What difference would that make? The dam
age had been done already.'

‘
Actually, no it had not. You jumped to a rather rash conclusion. Understandable, given that we were not expecting a visit from Lady Fidelia Montgomery, Phil's best friend. But still a mistake. We do not know what has happened to Rebecca Thomlinson, but Fidelia is certainly not she, nor is she one of you.'

Jasper tried to di
gest this fresh atrocity. Now that he thought about it, Phil had told him something of the sort when she was getting him to release the woman. But at that time, all he could think about was the fact that he was hurting a woman, any woman. That’s what devastated him.

Bu
t now he realised how much worse his crime had been. Not only had he attacked a woman, she wasn't even a guilty woman. She was an innocent friend of Phil's. And a grieving widow on top of that. It was times like this he wished his father had put a bullet in his brain when he found out what he was. But he hadn't been willing to do that. His love had been too great to ever willingly end Jasper’s life.

So
, he condemned Jasper to a half-life. A monstrous life no one should ever be forced to endure. If he had been a more honourable man he would have ended it himself. He’d thought of it often enough. But survival was instinctual and, no matter how unbearable it was, he could not willingly give up his life.

'Leave me alone, 'Ron.
I need to be alone. Send Jamey down for me later.' Jasper was suddenly so tired; all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and slip into unconsciousness again. He wanted to leave the nightmare behind, if only for a little while.

'All
right. But no wallowing. There has been enough of that going on around here already.' Byron tried to sound upbeat, but failed. With a shrug, he gave in and left his friend to his misery.

Jasper cradled his head in his arms and tried to sink into oblivion. But the subtle scent of woman was still in the air and it rasped against his senses like sand across skin. His need to see her again, to claim
her, was overpowering. And his need made him hate himself even more. This poor delicate widow didn’t deserve these thoughts, these urges. They were not the thoughts of a gentleman. For the first time since he killed his housekeeper, Jasper was appalled by his monstrous behaviour. And even though the beast should be well and truly under control by this time, instead, it seemed to be getting worse.

‘So tell me, Dee, what really brings you all the way up here?’ Phil asked again as she sipped at her tea and stared into the fire.

‘I am being silly. Maybe my mother-in-law
was right. I am young and silly,’ Fidelia started, but found it impossible to go on.

‘Never silly. You would not have come here without a very good reason. Your politeness would have stopped you. Do remember I know you very well, my friend. You would no more call on someone
, unannounced, than you would …’ Phil searched around for something to compare such a gross breach of etiquette with. ‘… go to a man’s room unchaperoned.’

Fidelia blushed at the very thought. Phil was right. She would never have considered doing anything of the sort. Nor would she really have come all this way, uninvited, had there not been something serious on her
mind. She had to confide it to her friend. It did no good to hold on to her fears.

‘Just after you left
, a man came to the house. He said he was a friend of Howard’s. But I had never met him, and Haversham did not know him either. Right from the start, I felt something was not right. I cannot explain it. But it felt like he was being melodramatic, like a player on the stage.

‘He seemed to know too much about me. When I mentioned you had just left
, he knew your name and that you lived up here in Yorkshire. When I queried him, he said it was the talk of the town. But I put out feelers after he left and no one even knew you had been visiting me. In fact, no one really knew much about Victor Rathgart. He certainly was not a close friend of Howard’s, as he suggested.’ Fidelia took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart and pulled the dressing gown Phil had given her more tightly around her. This was more difficult than she had imagined

‘Go on,’ Phil encouraged,
turning to face her. Those golden eyes drilled into her, trying to read the truth before she got it out.

‘I told him to come back in a week, but then I told Ha
versham I was not at home to the man at any time. But a week later he came back and Haversham let him in. My position was tenuous by then, what with the new Duke moving in shortly, so I assume Haversham’s natural distain for me finally took the upper hand. He delivered Rathgart into the morning room where I was having coffee.

‘I won’t go through the whole conversation, but I quickly started to suspect that R
athgart was infatuated with me and that he had something to do with Howard’s death.’

‘His death? Bu
t he died in a hunting accident,’ Phil exclaimed, rattling her china cup against its saucer in her agitation.

‘So we were led to believe. But the way he hinted that I deserved better th
an Howard and that it was a gentleman’s duty to free me from such unwanted attentions… He did not come right out and say he was responsible for the accident, but he implied it. And was very smug about it, too.’ She put her tea aside because she feared she’d upturn it in her distress.

‘Oh
, Dee, that is terrible. What did Maude say about all this?’

‘That was the problem. Haversham let him in when Maude was in the
kitchen discussing lunch with Cook. I was alone with him.’ She couldn’t hold back the little sob that broke free.

‘What did he do?’ Phil demanded, her voice steely.

‘He tried to force himself on me. He…He said we were meant to be together and…And that… now we could be! His hands were everywhere at once and his slobbery mouth was…’ She couldn’t go on. Talking about it brought all the memories back too vividly.

‘He didn’t…’

‘No. I managed to scream. I have never screamed in my life. I did not think I could. But I was terrified. He was a small man, but still much stronger than me.’ She paused to draw breath before going on. ‘Maude found out what Haversham had done and came to find me. She dashed in when I screamed, and she hit him over the head with the silver tea service tray. It was enough to stop him.

‘He was furious. He
swore he would be back to get his reward for freeing me. He made it sound like I hired him to kill Howard!’ Unable to control the tears any longer, she let them free, burying her face in her hands. She had come so close to being defiled. If Maude hadn’t taken such an outrageous step, he would certainly have ravished her. Never had she felt so helpless, so vulnerable.