Shana Abe (35 page)

“Will that be all right?” she continued. “I could supervise it myself, but you are so clever with the map, and I have promised the marquess to concentrate on the herb garden first.”

“No, I would be happy to take up that duty,” said Mairi. “You are very kind to offer it to me.”

“Let’s see if you still think me kind this spring, when your nose shall be blistered from the sun and your gown muddied every day.”

“My opinion shall not change,” Mairi said firmly.

“Nor mine,” added Carolyn. “Have you given thought to the Christmas celebration, my lady?”

Solange grimaced. “I cannot believe I only have just heard of this. Christmas is less than a sennight away, and now I discover I am expected to plan an entire celebration!”

“It was the tradition for the Marchioness of Lockewood to organize the party,” said Carolyn. “As I said to you yesterday, these past five years have been somewhat haphazard celebrations, and before that, as you know, there were none at all. You should not feel pressured, Marchioness.”

“Carolyn, I cannot even convince you to call me by my given name! How could you possibly think I have the skills necessary to host a party for all of Wolfhaven?”

Mairi gave an easy laugh. “We will help you, will we not, Caro?”

“We would be delighted to,” said Carolyn, “Solange.”

“Me too!” threw in her son.

As they rounded up the children and headed back to the castle gate, none of them noticed the pair of watching eyes that followed them from the woods, marking their exit just as carefully as they had marked their entrance.

G
ood boys,” Solange said softly. “My brave fellows, what handsome boys you are.”

She knelt in the soft dirt that made up the floor of
the kennel, heedless of the fine layer of dust that coated the hem of her gown. Around her stood seven fully grown mastiffs, all of them sniffing the bowls in her hands eagerly.

“Here you are.” She placed the two bowls of meat down in front of her, and the dogs crowded closer.

She had come across their kennel by casual design, for she had been keeping an eye out for it for days. She hadn’t told Damon of her intent to meet the dogs. She rather thought she could imagine what he would say to that, and none of it would be anything she would want to hear.

They were hunters, mighty warriors of their breed, and necessary for the survival of the castle. They had been trained to attack upon command, and usually such an attack was fatal.

So she had taken a good week to get to know them before she entered the gate to the kennel. A week was enough, she had decided that morning, to allow them to become familiar with her scent.

Fortunately the kennel was placed at another odd angle of the castle, an afterthought, Solange guessed. Twin pine trees shielded it from the excesses of the sun, and from prying eyes. For the past week she had made a point of going there at least twice a day, a good break from the garden planning, and talked quietly with the hounds.

They were wary at first, a few showing fangs, but she had expected this, indeed was used to this, and knew it was only a matter of time before they trusted her enough to let her come in.

“You see, Jane?” Solange called in a low voice. “Nothing to fear.”

Jane and her friend Miranda both watched the marchioness with eyes like saucers. Jane gave a little moan.

“Oh, they will eat you up, my lady!”

“No, silly. See? They are my friends.” Solange patted a large brindled male beside her. “If you are gentle with them, there is nothing to fear.”

“My lady,” said Miranda in an awed whisper, “are you magic?”

“No. You must simply treat them with respect, and they will respect you in turn.”

She had brought these two girls with her to prove to them that the dogs were not as hideous as the nursery tales she overheard whispered about with gleeful horror made them out to be. When she had heard the children’s stories of the mastiffs’ fearful teeth, she had been amused. But when she had seen these two girls scream shrilly when one of the hounds had gotten loose in the hall, she had decided to take action.

The dog had just returned from the hunt, and her jaws had been bloody. True, the sight of the huge female headed toward them, mouth dripping with pink saliva, was probably unnerving. But at their age Solange had already made great friends of the hounds at Ironstag, and the piercing, unnecessary screams from both Miranda and Jane were enough to set anyone’s teeth on edge.

Solange had decided to woo the dogs to gentleness and then bring the girls to witness it. These two were the natural ringleaders of the rest of the children, and if
they could be emboldened to like the dogs, so would the rest.

And it was working. Jane had already come three steps closer to the kennel gate, and Miranda was only a step behind her.

The dogs had devoured the meat scraps and began to sniff around for more.

“It’s true they are big,” Solange said. “And they do have sharp teeth. That’s one of the reasons you must respect them. But all creatures desire love, and the hounds are no different.”

“May we come in, my lady?” Jane was already working the latch on the gate.

“No,” Solange said firmly. “Not yet. They do not know you well enough to let you into their home. You must promise me you will not come in here unless I give you permission.”

Jane paused, a hand still on the latch. She opened her mouth to argue, but then the largest of the hounds looked up, it seemed right at her, the hair bristling on the back of his neck and his lips curling back, revealing a full set of sharp white teeth. A low rumble shook the air.

“I promise, my lady!” squeaked Jane, and backed away quickly.

The other dogs lifted their heads as the first one did, all of them growling now, all of them looking toward the gate.

But no, Solange saw, standing up to see better. They were looking beyond the gate and the girls. They were looking into the woods not more than fifty feet away.

She felt the hair on her own neck stand up as she
searched the line of trees with her eyes, but she could see nothing, nor hear anything either.

“Girls,” she said mildly. “Go back inside the castle. Walk, don’t run.”

They picked up their skirts and ran. Solange crossed slowly to the kennel gate, but still she could see nothing. The solid, muscular bodies of the dogs pushed at her as they all crowded close to the entry. She was very glad she was on the inside of the gate, with them.

Probably a boar, she thought. A wild boar.

But there were no other sounds, no birds singing, no scuffling in the leaves on the ground, nothing but the steady, deep-pitched growls from the dogs.

The dark greens, browns, and grays of the forest muted the light, created illusions with shadowy shapes that drew the eye, then vanished.

There was nothing there. Not a boar, not a hare, nothing.

But the dogs knew better, and she trusted them more than her own vision.

From nowhere a man came into view at a half-run, and the dogs erupted into a frenzied barking, some of them leaping up to push their paws against the gate.

It was Damon, and he was furious. Again.

“Oh, dear,” she said under her breath.

He walked up slowly to the kennel. The dogs were still barking, but it was different now, there was no menace to them. Their hackles were no longer raised. She sincerely hoped Damon could tell the difference.

“Solange,” he said conversationally. “Come out right now.”

“Yes, my lord,” she responded in the same tone. “But only see how the hounds are delighted to have you here. You must quite be their favorite.”

“Solange,” he said again, and the edge of steel she heard was not her imagination, she knew.

“Yes,” she muttered. Before she left she made a great show of petting the heads of the nearest hounds, who responded with happy pants. Damon was opening the gate.

She slipped out through the wedge of the opening and he shut it behind her with more force than necessary. She paused just behind him, searching the trees one more time.

An ordinary view. Nothing unusual. Nothing to make the mastiffs give the warning of danger. Yet there had been something out there. Of that she was certain.

Damon grabbed her arm and pulled her into his embrace.

“Don’t,” he said, and that was all, because he was kissing her hard and squeezing her ribs until she had to pound on his shoulders for air.

He lifted his head from hers and loosened his grip, but not by much.

“Don’t do that again,” he said, and he sounded odd, his voice remote and shaken. She tried to relax in his grip.

“There was nothing to fear,” she started to say, but before she could finish her thought he was kissing her again, as hard as before, and she wondered if her lips were going to be bruised.

He pulled away again and took a deep breath of air.
She decided to say nothing, letting the tension in him spin itself out before trying to reason with him.

He released her but kept his grip on her arm and began to pull her back to the castle. Near the gate with the guards were Miranda and Jane, both pale and fearful looking, and to reassure them she gave them a cheerful smile and waved with her free hand.

They did not wave back.

Damon pulled her past them and into the great hallway. It was difficult to pretend that all was normal, since he had the look of a man with death in tow, and not his own wife, she thought somewhat indignantly. Servants scattered, men ceased their conversations, women gave little gasps as they went by, and still he did not stop until she pulled out of his grip in front of her chamber door.

“I am not some piece of mutton, my lord, for you to drag about at your whim,” she said, attempting a tone of command.

He stared down at her and she felt a distinct chill.

“After you” was all he said, however, and pushed open the door for her.

She realized that unless she wanted an audience for this scene, she had better retreat inside. She lifted her chin and went in. Damon followed.

She stopped in the middle of the room, fully prepared to handle the argument she was certain was about to occur. But when she turned to look at him, what she saw was fear on his face, plain and simple. Fear, something she had never thought to see on him. It drained away her anger, left her feeling uncertain, confused.

He stood by the door, making no move to approach her, only looking at her.

She lifted one hand in supplication, then let it fall to her side.

“There was no harm,” she said.

He said nothing.

“They are quite tame,” she tried again.

“They are killers. They are trained to kill strangers.”

His voice was even, calm. She saw that he held his hands in fists at his sides, that his knuckles were white.

“I took a full week to let them know me first,” she said gently.

“A week?” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “A week, how prudent of you. One entire week.” Something in his voice cracked, and the emotion was there, raw and powerful. “Those mastiffs are not your pets, Solange. They will kill you. It’s what they do.”

She knew right then that he was not going to understand, that he would never understand, that the deep and chilling thing in him would not let him. He was afraid for her. He was afraid to lose her.

It made her walk over to him and pull his face down to hers, seeking his lips. He stiffened, resisting her, but she was persistent, reaching up and kissing him until his arms came around her in a sudden move, and he was kissing her back with all the passion and fear and desperation she had seen on his face an instant earlier.

He was a brave man, but it seemed she had become his inadvertent weakness. She would keep this secret to herself, guarding it carefully, and then, over time, perhaps wean him away from this fear. She couldn’t let him control her, but she would help him somehow.

It might be best, she thought with only a twinge of guilt, not to tell him of what the dogs heard in the woods. No need to worry him unnecessarily. It had only been a boar.…

“Stay away from the hounds,” he said against her lips. His voice was more normal now.

“Aye,” she replied. “For now.”

“Forever!” he said, and then realized how foolish it sounded.

She leaned back and looked up at him, a mysterious gaze full of golden smoke, then favored him with a slow smile. “For a while.”

He wasn’t going to get her to agree with him, and he knew she wouldn’t lie to him to get her way.

“If anything ever were to happen to you,” he began, but couldn’t finish, because his throat closed at the thought.

“I know,” she said. “I know, my love.”