The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7) (16 page)

“I find that difficult to believe,” I retorted. “You are their master, after all, are you not?”

“You have never owned dogs. Is that not what you told me?”

“Yes,” I replied, rather gratified he had remembered that small piece of information from our earlier conversation. “But what has that to do with anything?”

“If you had owned a dog, Bettany, then you would know that I am not their master at all. Rather the reverse, in fact.”

“Because you spoil them.”

He did not appear offended by my comment. Instead, he sat back in his chair, glass of wine in one hand, as he regarded me with some amusement. “Of course I do,” he said. “For many years, they have been the only family I have.”

The words were spoken simply, but I could hear the echo of loneliness behind them. I at least had my grandmother, but Phelan had only Master Merryk, and there existed no blood ties between them. Was it any wonder that he had bonded so closely with the dogs?

“I understand that,” I said, my voice soft. “But now….”

His eyes fastened on mine. For a long moment he didn’t stir, only gazed at me. Then he stood and came over to me, his hand outstretched. I took it, and he brought me to my feet. With his other hand, he took a ringlet of my hair and twined it around a finger. “Now,” he whispered. “Now we will make a family of our own.”

There was no way of misunderstanding his meaning…especially when he bent and claimed my mouth with his, both his hands now tangling in my hair, pulling me close. We had kissed before, but something about this embrace felt different. Perhaps it was the way he drew my body so close to his, everything seeming to touch. I could feel the strength of the muscles pressed against me, feel the heat radiating from his flesh.

The room swam around me. In the next instant, he was gathering me up in his arms, moving away from the dining room and down the suite’s short hallway, the one I had guessed terminated in his bedchamber, although of course I had never seen it for myself.

I knew I was about to see it now.

He pushed open the door with one booted foot. Within was warmer than I had expected, for the room had its own hearth with a fire blazing away. I had a confused glimpse of rich red hangings, furniture of dark carved wood, much the same as in the rest of the suite. And the bed — enormous, hung with more deep crimson velvet. A bed where we sank down, Phelan covering my body with his, kisses moving from my mouth down my throat, down the exposed flesh that the wide neckline of the gown revealed.

I thought I had experienced heat before when we kissed, but that was nothing compared to the flush that went through my body then, thrilling me to every extremity. My breaths came in harsh gasps, and I did nothing to stop him when his fingers found the laces at the side of my gown and began pulling at them, loosening the dress so he might begin to slide it up my body.

Some part of my mind wanted to protest, but I knew that was foolish. Phelan was my husband. This was what husbands and wives were expected to do. At any rate, far more of me was eager for his touch, glad when he lifted the heavy gown over my head and tossed it to one side, where it landed on a chair. Then I was clad only in my thin chemise, and yet I was not cold. How could I be, with Phelan there to warm me?

Still, he paused, then said, voice thick with passion, “Get under the covers, beloved.”

I would not argue. After pulling back the heavy velvet coverlet and the blankets and sheets beneath, I slipped beneath all the layers, glad enough of their weight despite the fire in my veins. As soon as I had covered myself, Phelan reached up and removed the heavy silver chain from around his neck, and carelessly flung it onto the same chair that barely contained my discarded gown. His doublet soon followed.

My eyes widened at the broad shoulders he’d revealed, the heavy muscles of his arms and chest. Yes, I had seen men without their shirts before, when they worked away in the heat of summer, but none of the men of Kerolton had ever looked the way Phelan did in that moment.

As I stared, he came to the bed and slid under the covers, then pulled me against him. His flesh felt shockingly warm, and I was glad of the way he held me, glad of his warm fingers gliding over me, touching me in places I had never been touched before.

Perhaps I moaned. In that moment, I could not think of anything save Phelan, the heat of his flesh, the waves of pleasure moving through me. And then our bodies were locked together, even as his mouth took mine, stealing my breath as we sank into darkness, two made one, the world disappearing with his touch.

And so it was done.

S
omewhere in the
fogginess of my sleep, I had fancied that Phelan’s and my joining had changed everything, that when I awoke the next morning, I would see bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, the storm gone and the skies overhead blue once more. But when I opened my eyes, I saw only pale grey light streaming in through the one window where the curtains had been pushed aside.

Phelan stood there, wearing a dressing robe of nearly the same bloody hue as the draperies themselves. It was open down the front, revealing something of the bare, muscled chest I had so admired the night before. He must have heard me stir, for he turned at once as I pushed myself up to a sitting position. My body felt pleasantly sore, and I blushed a little as I thought of the intimacies we had shared just a few hours earlier.

Still, I tried to sound unruffled as I said, “It seems the storm is still with us.”

With a smile, he stepped away from the window and came to sit on the edge of the bed. It creaked with his weight, and another flush warmed my cheeks as I thought of the way we had made it creak quite a bit last night. “Yes, the snow still falls,” he replied. His hand sought mine where it rested on top of the covers. Even though he had been standing close to the window, and must have felt its drafts, his fingers were very warm as they twined through mine. “But I cannot be too disappointed in that, not when it means I shall be confined to this castle with you.”

I supposed he did have a point. There were far worse fates, after all.

“And,” he went on, giving my fingers a squeeze, “I told Master Merryk not to disturb us today, so….” The words trailed off significantly, and Phelan arched an eyebrow at me.

Ah, yes, that would be a delightful way to pass a snowy day. Still, I thought I should give my new husband just a little trouble for his presumption. “Not at all? Not even to bring us our breakfast, or dinner?”

“He will knock at the door, then leave a tray outside.”

I thought that was a very good way to have a series of cold meals, even if the tray in question was covered. But I did not bother to protest. I would eat cold meals for a month if it meant I could spend so many undisturbed hours with Phelan.

He must have seen the approval in my eyes, for in the next moment he was pushing me down against the pillows, his body on mine again, as once more we sought to lose ourselves in one another, to push back the cold and the storm with the exquisite heat of our joining. As my body shuddered with pleasure, I could only think that I did not care what happened in the rest of the world, so long as I had him with me.

B
ut eventually we
must come back to the world, even a world so confined as that of Harrow House. Phelan and I were allowed our one day of grace, to become used to one another, to the rhythms of our bodies and the small shared glances and touches that seemed so much more significant now that we had truly become husband and wife. Master Merryk managed as much as he could, but sometime during those blissful hours Phelan and I had spent together, the drifting snow had broken through the doors that guarded the entrance to the castle’s armory, and the lord of Harrow Hall was needed.

He left me with a swift kiss, saying that he would be back as soon as he could. So I must wait once again, albeit in more luxurious surroundings than I’d had in my borrowed chambers elsewhere in the castle. I had all of Phelan’s library at my fingertips rather than a few selected books, and I had Linsi and Doxen to keep me company. It was something of a comfort to sit by the fire, Doxen at my feet, Linsi perched within exact reach of my left hand so I might bend down and scratch her ears in the spot she loved the most.

But while I had company, and enough reading material to keep me amused for the hours Phelan must be away, I found myself far more distracted than I should have been. Perhaps it was only that now I knew what it was like to be with him completely, and so to be separated, if only for a short time, was a torture I would not have been able to imagine even a day earlier.

You must learn to tolerate it,
I told myself.
He is the lord and master here, and the true steward of Harrow Hall. It shows his love for this place, that he would go to ensure its safety, rather than telling Master Merryk to take care of the matter for him.

That all seemed well enough, and yet….

Perhaps my unease stemmed merely from my realization that the castle was not quite as impregnable as it seemed. First there had been the roof collapses in the towers, and now this breached door….

It was only a door. Solid oak, I had no doubt, and probably banded with iron, but still not nearly as strong as the grey granite that made up the castle walls. Harrow Hall had stood for hundreds of years, and there was no reason why it should not stand for hundreds more, even in the face of such a fierce storm as the one we’d been suffering for the past week. Some repairs would be made, and then we would all go on.

Linsi pushed her warm, furry head against my idle fingers, letting me know that I was failing in my duty to keep her ears properly scratched. I went back to my task, allowing the book that had been sitting in my lap slide to one side. Very little I had read had actually stayed in my mind, so I saw little point in continuing the charade. Better to sit here and watch the fire, and wait for Phelan to return.

Which he did many hours later, the doublet he wore smudged with soot and mud, and he himself sporting a streak of dirt along one cheekbone. I rose as soon as he entered the chamber, asking, “Is all well?”

“As well as can be expected.” He gave me a tight smile, one I did not find particularly reassuring. As soon as he entered the room, the dogs had abandoned me and gone straight to him, weaving around his legs, tails wagging. After giving them both a few absentminded head scratches, Phelan went on, “We have sealed the breach, and dug out the snow where it was pressing against the wall in that one area, but with it continuing to fall, it is only a matter of time before we’ll find ourselves in precisely the same situation once more.”

“What will you do?” I inquired, hoping at the same time that there actually was something he could do. I did not want to admit such a thing, but my husband’s strength and resourcefulness seemed outmatched when pitted against the power of this storm.

His shoulders lifted, even as he pushed past the dogs and went to the sideboard placed against one wall. From there he lifted a decanter filled with pale gold liquid and poured a measure into a silver cup that had been sitting next to the decanter. “Some
cherbeg?
” he offered, motioning with the decanter.

I had never had the strong liquor, for we did not possess the means of making it back in Kerolton. But the heavy fumes reached me and tickled my nose, making me wish to sneeze. Somehow I managed to refrain, however, then shook my head.

“No, thank you, my husband,” I said. “I have been quite warm and comfortable here, and have no need of it. But I am glad you can have some to drive the chill from your bones.”

“It is quite effective for that.” He raised the cup to his lips and bolted the entire contents in one quick, neat swallow. A small shudder wracked his body, and he gave me a grim smile. “I cannot say I admire the taste overmuch, but it is effective.” He set down the empty cup, grimacing slightly as he glanced down at himself. “I am not fit for female company. Let me wash my face and hands, and change. By then supper should be sent up.”

Had that many hours passed? I supposed they had. Books and dogs were good company, if not nearly as satisfying as that of my husband. But now he had returned, and we would be able to spend the rest of the evening together.

Until the next crisis raises its head,
I thought then. It was not a very charitable thought, so I pushed it aside as best I could, even though I ached at the thought of spending more days like one I had just endured, alone with the dogs. Phelan was the lord of this castle, and it was only natural that he should be on hand to manage whatever problems might arise. And now I was the lady of Harrow Hall, and must learn to accept these things as part of my life. Everything about him was new to me now, and so I understood why I would wish to spend every waking moment with him, but that would not always be possible.

He came over and gave me a swift kiss on the cheek, one that felt especially warm against my skin. Perhaps the heat had come from the traces of
cherbeg
which remained on his lips.

In the next moment he had moved on, going to our bedchamber and the wash basin that sat on a carved oak table in one corner. Sensing he was occupied, Linsi and Doxen settled themselves once more at my feet, all three of us waiting until the lord of the manor bestowed his attention upon us once more.

Well, there were less pleasant occupations, I supposed.

O
ver the next several days
, no more catastrophes were visited upon the castle, despite my worries. Phelan was occupied, true, going with Master Merryk to inspect those sites that might be cause for concern, but despite the ever-falling snow, Harrow Hall seemed to be holding for the moment. And in those hours when I was left alone, I would sometimes lay aside my book or my needlework, and stand at the window and watch the white world outside, and wonder if all of North Eredor had been blanketed in snow, or whether one would only have to ride a few hours southward to escape this endless storm.

I wished that were true. Perhaps I should urge Phelan to go forth with me now, despite the weather, and head south toward Tarenmar. But no, that was a fool’s errand, for of course we had no way of knowing how far this covering of snow-laden clouds reached. Still, I found myself craving the sight of the sun and blue skies the way a starving man might long for a solid meal. Even a small glimpse like the one I had had the day Phelan and I first kissed would be better than nothing.

But that glimpse was not given to me. I could take some comfort in my husband’s arms at night, when all was safe and warm, and the bleak landscape outside was hidden in blessed darkness. And some nights I did not have even that much, for Phelan seemed to grow increasingly restless, his sleep marred by bad dreams, although when I awoke him to ask what troubled him, he had no answer for me.

“Only nightmares,” he said one time, when we held each other in the very early hours of the morning. “I suppose this storm is beginning to prey on my mind as well. Or perhaps,” he added with a flashing grin that I could see even in the gloom, “it was that toasted bread with cheese we had instead of a proper dinner. It tasted good at the time, but — ”

“It was not the cheese,” I said, tone somewhat indignant, since the simple fare had been my idea, something to consume while we sat on the carpet in front of the hearth and soaked up the warmth from the fire that burned therein. “For I had nearly as much as you, and I certainly have had no nightmares.”

He shrugged, but I thought I detected something almost studied about the gesture, as if he was in fact more bothered by the dreams than he cared to admit, and wished to hide his concern from me. “Then something else. Bettany, I would be lying to you if I said this storm had not begun to wear on me, and on everyone within this castle’s walls. Every day brings a new worry with it.”

Some part of me was glad that he had finally decided to admit his concerns, but at the same time, I could feel my heart sink. For if Phelan, who had always seemed so stalwart, had begun to give up hope, what could the rest of us do?

I drew close to him, and he put his arms around me. It was difficult to be overly worried when he held me thus, although I knew the comfort he offered could only extend so far. In here, in this warm and dark chamber, where the glowing coals within the hearth were our sole illumination, it was easy to forget what might be happening elsewhere in the castle, let alone in the outside world.

“It is indeed wearying,” I said. “I wish more than anything to venture forth into the sunlight again, to have you kiss me while flowers bloom all around.”

“I wish for that as well. And that day will come, Bettany, even though at the moment it seems very far off.”

Although the sun was not shining, he did kiss me then, and we progressed to even more pleasurable activities. I was distracted, as I was sure he intended, but I did not forget the restlessness of his sleep, the way his breath had come short and abrupt, his chest rising and falling far too heavily beneath the bulky covers.

How could I forget, when his restlessness seemed to increase with each passing night? It infected me as well, and I found myself unable to find a comfortable position in which to sleep, even though the bed I shared with Phelan was far more luxurious than any I had ever slept in before. At first I wondered if it was merely because he was not used to sharing his bed with another, but I was almost positive that was not the reason. He had slept heavily on our wedding night, and the day after. Ever since then, though, his sleep had grown more and more disordered, and during the days he appeared hollow-eyed and pale. Not so surprising, considering how little rest he was getting, but whenever I attempted to broach the subject, to attempt to discover why he suddenly was unable to find any solace in sleep, he turned the conversation elsewhere.

It came to me late one afternoon that nearly a week had passed since Phelan and I were married, which meant that I had been residing at Harrow Hall for two full weeks. How such a span of time could have elapsed while a storm still raged on outside, I did not know. We had suffered terrible storms before, of course — I recalled one that blew down out of the north in the winter of my tenth year and lasted for a good five days — but never one that had lasted for an entire fortnight. And if we were suffering here, in this massive castle of heavy stone, I could only imagine what it must be like in Kerolton.

No, I did not want to imagine such a thing, for that would only awaken my worry for my grandmother, something I had pushed to the back of my mind and attempted to ignore, since there was nothing I could do to help her. I didn’t want to think of how our cottage surely must have collapsed under the weight of all this snow, or been buried past its windows. No one could survive in conditions such as that.