Imprisoned at Werewolf Keep (Werewolf Keep Trilogy) (6 page)

Fidelia shuddered, thinking
, yet again, of the possibility that Rathgart had been responsible for Howard’s death. It seemed too impossible. Such actions occurred, she knew that. But not in her world. Certainly not to someone she was close to. If she could have been called close to Howard.

‘Do not fear, Lady Montgomery. This man will cause you no further problems.’ Jasper said these words in a harsh ras
p, as if he wanted to yell them rather than speak in normal tones.

Fidelia looked up at him with gratitude, and was once more caught by the wildness in his blue eyes.
She had never seen eyes like this on a man before. She remembered seeing a fox that crossed her path one day when she was out strolling. It had frozen in place at the sight of her, and for a few brief moments their gazes had met. Those eyes had held this kind of wildness. No threat, just something primordial. And then the creature had disappeared into the undergrowth, as if it had never been.

Hungry. The fox and the man were hungry. But whereas the fox had not considered her a possible meal, this man certainly did. It was as if he wanted to eat her whole. And the idea thrilled her
at the same moment it terrified her.

Jasper stood beside Byron and Phil as the young widow was driven away. She had stayed for luncheon and met some of the other inmates, but from the bemused expression on her face, she seemed unable to understand what the strange hodgepodge of personalities were doing at the Keep.

‘Did she comment on us?’ Jasper asked Phil, finally able to breathe properly for the first time. Her scent was no
w far enough away that his beast was no longer affected by it.

‘Comment?’ Phil looked surprised.

‘Yes. She must have wondered why we were all together like that. Servants and nobility mixing so freely.’

Phil frowned. ‘You know, I did
not even think about it. These days, it is just so much a part of this place that I do not consider it unusual anymore. But you are right, Dee would find it odd. But she did not say anything. I think she has far more pressing matters on her mind than our egalitarian arrangement here.’

‘You might be right,’ he replied unconvinced. What did he want Phil to say? That she had found them all disgusting? Even had she thought it, the sweet little woman would never have said such a hurtful and impolite thing to her friend.

‘What is going on with you, Jas?’ Byron asked, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair. He needed to sleep. The full moon nights always left him sleepless. Normally he and Phil would have taken to their beds by now to catch up on a few hours of rest before the next night of wakefulness.

‘It has
something to do with Dee, does it not? You do not still think she is guilty of any crime do you?’ Phil looked at him as if she was trying to see inside him. He hated that look.

‘O
f course not. I do not know what is wrong. But I feel fine now. Just an aberration, I hope. So you think the coachman will be able to arrange a suitable guard on such short notice?’

‘He i
s being paid well enough to do so. But I may ride into Harrogate myself later, just to check.’ Byron said.

‘I would offer to do it, but with the
way winter nights come on so quickly…’

‘
No, there is no possibility of any of you going to Harrogate. I am still concerned about this missing young woman. There has been no word.’

‘Do you think something dire has happened?’ Phil asked, turning back toward the door of the Keep now
that the carriage was out of sight.

‘It does
not bode well. But there is little we can do until word comes.’ Byron put a heavy arm around Phil’s shoulder and drew her close.

‘I do no
t like the idea of Lady Montgomery being in danger from Rathgart or this missing woman,’ Jasper found himself confiding.

‘Dee won’t be out in the open after dark, Jas. So she is
not in danger from Rebecca. Her guard might be if he does not have a gun on him. Will you make sure he is properly protected, when you go in?’ Phil looked up at Byron.

‘Certainly. I woul
d expect him to be properly armed, regardless. This Rathgart is not to be taken lightly.’

Jasper tried not to look behind him, to where the carriage had disappeared down the
moorside. He felt more relieved now that her scent was gone, but more restless, too. Even though it was safer for the small widow to be gone from the Keep, it didn’t feel good. It was as if something valuable had just been taken away from him.

The following morning Jasper came to himself in the open, a light dusting of snow covering his naked body. He shivered as the adrenalin spiked. Where was he? What had happened?

He could tell that it was just after dawn and the freezing weather meant that few people were
out of doors, even at what must be nearly eight in the morning. His surroundings were unfamiliar, too built-up to be anywhere near the Keep. Somehow, he had escaped captivity the night before and made his way here.

Wher
e was here? A backyard of some kind. He appeared to have taken shelter behind a tool shed.

Looking down at his goose
-fleshed skin, he was relieved to see no signs of blood or gore. He hadn't attacked anyone during the night, then. But what
had
he done? And why had he travelled so far out of his own territory to do it? Their monsters were territorial, like any beast. They preferred their own domain in which to roam. He’d learned that from research rather than personal experience.

Raking his brain
, he searched for the vague flashes of memory that always remained after a night in werewolf form. Nothing came. He went back to memories of the day before.

He’
d remained restless all afternoon, waiting for Byron to get back from checking up on the widow. Even though he’d tried to work, he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the memory of the young woman he had so badly manhandled.

His confidence in himself and his c
ontrol had been shattered by his experience with her. All of his hard-won acceptance had been washed away in a few short minutes. No matter what Phil said, he was no more than a beast. That morning’s actions were no anomaly; they were the reality beneath the false façade he wore every day.

But the crumbled facade
seemed to have something to do with the woman. This lack of control seemed to be directly related to her. If she had been one of his own kind, he might have thought she was in season and that the madness was because the wolf smelled a mate. But she wasn't. She was human. It just didn't make sense.

He cast around him for some idea where he was and how he had come to be
there.

Then a flash of something shocking came to him. He'd locked himself in and hidden the key before he 'turned' that night. Why on earth would he do such a thing? Yet
he remembered it clearly. Jamey had thought Byron had taken the key and Byron had assumed Jamey had done it. Neither considered Jasper capable of such duplicity. And his brooding silence kept them both from asking him.

As the others began the change in the cells around him he fought it long enough to unlock his cell door. The next flash of memory was of loping along a track
, following what was left of a scent. Her scent.

So he must have
followed her to...where? He tried to remember what Harry had said. Something about a hotel in Harrogate where she was taking the waters? Had he made it all the way to Harrogate?

Then what? He saw himself scratching at a door and howling at the moon in his frustration. Had he stayed outside her hotel all night? Just waiting?
Surely the guard would have seen him and shot him?

His teeth began to chatte
r with the cold. In beast state, his fur was enough to keep him warm, but once the change was complete he was as prone to the cold as any human, especially naked as he now was. In fact, if he didn't find clothes and shelter soon, he would die of the cold.

He crept out from behind the shed and made his way to the back door of the closest building. He could see his paw
prints there, circling and recircling the spot. There were claw marks in the door, as well. There wasn't much he could do about the door, but he could cover his tell-tale tracks. He did this quickly with a fallen branch from a nearby tree.

The cold was getting worse. His feet were numb and so were his hands. His teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

The door, when he tried it, was locked. Desperately, he tried to think of his next plan of action. But then, as the futility of it all set in, the door magically opened and the tiny widow stood in the doorway. Her gasp of surprise nearly had him running away. But the chance to get inside to the warmth was stronger than his desire to escape detection.

He pushed her back into the house and closed the door behind them. Then he leaned against it while he took in his surroun
dings. They were in a passageway. Ahead led to the front of the hotel and to his left was the laundry room that he knew would have a drying room attached. He could feel the heat coming from that direction already and his numb feet tingled.

'It's you! My Lord, what are you doing here in that state? Cover yourself
, sir!'

Jasper glanced back at the woman and
registered her embarrassment. But there was no fear in her eyes, which surprised him. After what he had done to her the day before, and his sudden appearance, naked and frostbitten, he'd have expected her to be screaming with alarm by now.

But she wasn't. Instead
, she was just deeply discomforted by his lack of clothing.

'I do apologise for my state of undress
, and I would cover myself if I could. I am freezing! There may be something I can borrow in there.' He pointed toward the laundry.

He didn't want to leave her, but the cold outweighed his desires. He prowled through the laundry and located the drying room. Surprisingly, he heard her
light footsteps behind him. Instead of running away, she was following him!

Much to his delight
, the drying room was well stocked with men's clothes and they were dry, if somewhat creased. Even more fortuitous was the fact that there was no one else about. He wondered where the Hotel staff was at this time of the morning.

As if reading his mind
, the widow told him what he wanted to know.

'Everyone is at a meeting in the dining room. There was a death overnight
, and the manager is making everyone aware of the arrangements.'

'A death?' Jasper's heart froze. Surely he hadn't killed someone the night before?

'Yes, the old lady in the room next to mine. Maude told me. She died in her sleep, the poor dear.'

Jasper sagged
against a table in relief. He wasn't responsible. The death was a natural one.

The widow cleared her throat and that drew his attention to his nakedness once more. Grabbing up a few necessities
, he began to pull them on. Sweet warmth spread through his limbs, especially after he put on a pair of thick woollen stockings.

'I supposed this isn't as bad as if you were a virgin,' he found himself saying as he put on the last stocking. Even before the words were out he realized how inappropriate they were.

'Why might that be Lord...Jasper?' He realised that she didn't remember his last name and so had improvised.

‘Lord
Jasper Horton. But please, call me Jasper, Lady Montgomery. I think the conditions warrant a certain informality in greeting. And ah...a virgin would not have seen a naked man before. It would be quite terrifying for her, I imagine. Especially a stranger at the door. But a married lady like yourself, well, you will have seen it all before...' His explanation petered out and he squirmed with embarrassment. This was not the conversation a gentleman would have with a lady, married or otherwise. He may spend three nights a month a beast, but he still had his civility. Well, he had, up until yesterday.

What was it about this little woman that made him feel his wildness, even in human form? There had to be more to it than just her looks. She was certainly a beauty
, in that fashionable porcelain doll way. Even at this time of the morning her blonde hair was already primped and curled. She looked too perfect to be real.

Her pale cheeks blushed pink under his
scrutiny. Or was it the topic of conversation?

Her small breasts
heaved in a sharp in-breath, pressing up over her corset that turned her waist into something so tiny he could span it with the fingers of both hands. Her dainty hands, covered with black kid gloves, fluttered like butterflies at her sides, unsure where to land. Big, storm-cloud grey eyes stared up at him in shock.

'I cannot speak for any other married lady
, sir, but I have never 'seen it all', as you so gallantly put it. My husband, God rest his soul, was very proper.' She spoke snootily, trying to look down her turned up nose at him. This failed hopelessly because he towered over her, forcing her to look up, instead of down, her nose.

'And while he remained properly covered
, did he also insist you remain so, too, even when making love to you?' he asked, his curiosity inflamed.

He watched her blush even brighter
, and she looked away from him and shuffled her feet.

'That is correct
. It...It would have been most improper for him to have seen me uncovered...And I find this conversation totally improper, my Lord. I must go.'

Before she could make good her escape
, his hand snaked out and grabbed hers. He drew her toward him with it and breathed deeply of her sweet perfume. She was all honey suckle and warmth and it left him mindless. His beast had finally got what it was after. Dee was his to do with as he wanted.

He fought back that thought. It was untrue. No gentleman would hold such base
thoughts. This woman was not his to do with as he pleased. But as he looked down into her flushed face, her eyes bright with excitement, he felt himself harden as he fought the urge to draw her against him. Fought the urge to claim her completely.

What sort of man would have remained properly covered with someone like this in his bed? She was every man’s
fantasy. Sweetly innocent, yet overpoweringly seductive. Did she know what she was doing? Did she realise that the way she licked her pink lips like that was an almost unbearable invitation?

He dragged his gaze from her seductive mouth and scanned their surround
ings. It was warm in this large room. And it smelled of starch and washing powder. Clean. It smelled overpoweringly clean to his beast’s senses. But nothing overpowered her scent, for him. It surrounded him, tempting him to come closer, drawing more of it in to his nose. He drew her closer by the unresisting hand he held.

No! Ja
sper fought the urge. This woman had been accosted by a blackguard only recently. He didn’t want to do the same to her. She deserved better.

But even as he thought it, he reached over and pushed the drying room door closed, sealing them in together.

Fidelia
couldn't move. From the moment she’d opened the door that morning, on the way to the outhouse in the back yard, she’d been under his spell. Standing there in front of her, pale skin blue with cold, he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Even the picture of Michelangelo’s David she and Phil had sneaked a peak at long ago couldn’t match the perfection of the man before her.

Every part of his body was heavily muscled. Those muscles rippled as he moved. She had thought him an odd collection of mismatched parts the day before, but seeing him in all his naked glory revealed the true symmetry of his form.

And the long-fingered hand that now held hers was just as fine. She found she could not take her eyes from it. The nails were short, clean and neat, knuckles large and yet shapely. There were fine golden hairs on the back that matched the hair she had seen on the rest of his body only moments before.

Howard was as far away from
this man as a donkey was from an Arabian stallion, and even though she hated herself for her disloyalty, the truth remained. Howard had been better off covered, this man was better off uncovered.

Jasper's other hand
, which moments before had closed the door of the drying room, was now lifting her chin so that their gazes met. His eyes were the colour of the summer sky, fringed with dark blond lashes. They were so serious, she wondered if they ever creased at the corners with laughter.

For an endless moment
, it seemed that he was caught in her gaze. Then he was drawing her closer, until his lips were mere inches from her own. She could smell him beneath the fresh scent of washing. And he smelled wild and untamed, and very masculine.

Without realising what she did, she let out a little gasp, opening her lips. It was all the invitation Jasper needed. His mouth came down on hers, covering it completely.
Such soft lips for such a hard man, and yet they claimed hers so tenderly. Fidelia felt light-headed at the touch. This, too, was as different from Howard’s kiss as anything could ever be. Smooth, soft and lush were the words that forced their way into her befuddled mind as he kissed her.

The s
ensations that coursed through her body were so exquisite as to seem unreal. His lips were open and invited hers to do the same. It was a strangely vulnerable feeling to open her mouth to another and let his tongue enter her. Like the sexual act, but far less painful; far less embarrassing.

With that comparison in mind
, she felt her thoughts slip away, to be wholly consumed by sensations. Silk and heat and dancing tongues. Breathlessness, weakness in her lower limbs. She was being carried away by wave upon wave of desire. Colours flashed before her eyes. His crinkled blue jacket seemed vivid, his hair gloriously gold. The warm air was heavy with the smell of washing lye and burning coal, yet overlaid by the scent of wildness that was all this man. A rich, sensual, heightened experience washed over her until she never wanted it to stop.