Guardian of Werewolf Keep (Werewolf Keep Trilogy) (13 page)

‘What happens to me now?’ Bobby took the clothes Byron handed to him
, and began to dress. He seemed to become more settled the more layers of clothing he used to cover the evidence of his wolf’s abuse.

‘The good thing is that most of the bruising will be gone by tomorrow. The cuts soon after. Look at how well the claw marks healed up,’ Byron said, noticing the lad’s relief.

‘I’ll be stronger and healthier than I was?’

‘Aye, ye will. Ye’ll grow muscles too, which will please the lassies. It is
na all bad being a big bad wolf.’ Will smiled as he said the last. Byron knew that his amusement came from the night Phil had started them making jokes at their own expense. He was pleased Will was keeping it up. It indicated a level of acceptance that hadn’t been there before.

Bobby returned Will’s smile with a tentative one of his own. ‘What do I do about this? My family will hate me when they see what I’ve done.’

‘We’ll get a team up here later today or tomorrow, and get it ship-shape again. Dinna fash yourself laddie, your family will never ken what happened here.’

‘And you’ll take me back with you
?’

Byron couldn’t believe what a turnaround had occurred since yesterday. Instead of wanting to escape the Keep, now he wanted to
be accepted there. It was a good sign. The most positive outcome of the last couple of days. He would need this small win if he was to keep his resolve concerning Phil, over the next month. It would be the longest period of his life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Phil helped Charlotte gather roses for the vases, and enjoyed the small win that this had proven to be. Over the last
lonely month, Charlotte had begun to warm to her, and offering to let her share some of the care of her beloved roses had been the greatest gift the young woman could offer her.

That she knew it was out of sympathy for her heart-ache, didn’t take anything from the gesture. In fact, it made it all the sweeter. Charlotte, for all her wild and rebellious ways, seemed to have a kind heart under it all.

And she wasn’t the only one who had shown such kindness to her over the endless month of her separation from Byron. Each of them, in their own way, had tried to soften the blow for her.

But there was no way the full impact of Byron’s rejection could be softened. When he had returned from the croft with Bobby, he had immediately packed his bags
, and prepared to leave for London. If she hadn’t caught him as he headed for his horse, he would have left without telling her goodbye.

She didn’t know what she had done to deserve his rebuff, but she thought that Will was responsible. When she had challenged the man about it, Will had
gruffly told her it was ‘for the best,’ and that she needed to start planning what she would do with her life, once she left the Keep. Since then, she hadn’t been able to be in the same room as him, so angry was she.

For several days
after his departure she had taken to her bed, the grief draining her of all energy. That was when Charlotte had come to her, asking for her assistance in the rose garden. Nothing less would have made her leave her bed, she realised.

For several days after that
, the residents had crept around her like she was an unexploded canon ball. And then, one by one they began to shower her with small gestures of regard. Jasper played his violin for her. Cook prepared her favourite chicken dumplings. Mary asked to brush her hair, and spent hours trying to stroke her into peace.

It didn’t work. The only thing that helped was burying herself the
preparations for the party. It kept her mind occupied, and distracted her from her misery. But at night, when her eyes were too tired to write more invitations, or study the menu one more time, she went to bed to stare up at the ceiling for hours. When sleep came, it was always accompanied by nightmares, where she was chasing after Byron as he fled from her. Or she found herself in a wreck of a croft on the moors, alone and abandoned, crying so hard that when she awoke, her eyes were heavy with the unshed tears.

There were plenty of shed tears
, too. During the day, when she least expected them. The others would kindly look the other way when it happened, so that her lack of control didn’t embarrass her more than it should.

She expected it to get easier over time. It didn’t. In fact, as the month drew to a close, and Byron’s return was imminent, her distress increased. It even crossed her mind
that she should be gone when he returned. If she went to Harrogate for the full moon, then she could avoid him. The idea of seeing his distain was more than she could stand.

But it was her father’s spirit in her that kept her back straight as the day of his return drew closer. No matter how much she wanted to slink away like a dog with its tail between its legs, she wouldn’t give him that power. The Keep still belonged to her. It was her right to stay there as long as she chose. Byron would not be allowed to drive her away
now, just as she hadn’t allowed him to drive her away that first night.

When she heard the cry go up that Byron was back, she felt her legs weaken under her, despite her resolve. Charlotte, noticing her reaction, came to her side, and held her up until she felt strong enough to stand on her own two feet again.

‘Do not let him know how much he hurt you, Phillie. Men are all bounders, and letting them know what pain they cause us only makes them worse.’ Charlotte patted her arm.

‘I will make sure I do not. Thank
you, Charlotte. You have been very kind to me…’

‘Well, you turned out to not be the bitch I thought you were. If not for you, we would not be having this party. You make everyone happier than they were. That is something around here.’

‘I have not been making anyone happy for the last month. I cannot even make myself happy.’

‘Well, just do not show that bounder what he has caused you. That is all I have to say on the matter. And do not go in to greet him. Stay here. If he wants to see you, he must come to you.’

It was the best advice she could have received. Although part of her wanted to dash inside, just to catch a glimpse of his handsome, beloved face, the other part wanted to put off seeing him again, not wanting to face the rejection she knew she would see there.

So she continued picking roses, and pruning back deadheads when she found them. But eventually she had gathered enough, and the sun was arcing toward the horizon. Supper would be served shortly, before the residents made their way do
wn to the cells for sunset.

Should she stay up all night after she had collected the women’s clothes, or would that be too diffic
ult with only Jamey as bulwark? Maybe she could make it through her part, and then go to her room. As long as she didn’t lock the door, it wouldn’t feel like she was cowering under the bed.

However,
she was cowering. But it wasn’t from the werewolves. It was Byron she was cowering away from, and his heartless rejection. How could she have thought that he would never betray her? How could she have believed it would be him whose heart was broken, not hers? She had been so sure he loved her as much as she loved him. How could she have been so wrong?

She breathed a sigh of relief when she went into the morning room for her supper. Byron wasn’t there. Nor was Jasper and Will.
Disappointed and yet relieved, she sat down next to Charlotte and Mary, and managed to force down her supper, even though each bite caught in her throat until she wanted to gag.

‘Be strong my dear. Men are such fools
, sometimes. They do not know what is good for them. Even the intelligent ones like Byron,’ Ellen told her as she helped the old lady out of her night dress after supper.

‘I am well enough, Ellen dear. I do not plan to let him know the pain he has caused me. I have more pride than that.’

‘Good girl. You are your father’s daughter. I will see you in the morning. Take care of yourself.’

The compassionate looks the other women gave her as they handed over their clothes was almost too much to bear. They were all so kind to her. How could she have ever seen them as monsters? They had given her a place amongst them, a home as warm and loving as she remembered from her childhood, before her father went to war. She had thought that it was she who was needed here, not the other way around. But this last month had shown her
differently. The Keep wasn’t her prison, it was her home. The residents here were not inmates, but her family and friends. And she loved them for it.

If not for Byron, she might have chosen to stay on at the end of her three months. But it would be too difficult to do that now. No matter how much time passed, she knew that the wound he had inflicted would never heal while ever she had to face him day after day. No,
she would go after the next full moon. And her first stop would be Fidelia’s. A dose of her best friend’s common sense would be just what she needed to reorientate her life.

After all, nothing had changed. She was still a rich young heiress who could do anything she wanted, and go anywhere she wanted
, from now on. Fidelia would remind her of that, and encourage her to start considering her options. Maybe there would be young men who would offer for her, now she was wealthy.

Phil cringed at the very idea. If those milksops had not wanted her when she was poor, she certainly did not want them now that she was rich. If ever there was another man in her life, he would be one who loved her for herself. As she had thought Byron had
loved her.

How wrong she had been.

With poker straight back, she walked down the passageway to the bottom of the stone stairs. Just as she entered the small anteroom, with its blazing furnace, Byron was coming out of the other tunnel. He had the decency to look embarrassed and chagrined, she noted. But she didn’t pay him any more attention. She nodded her greeting politely, eyes averted, and started up the stairs to the Keep above.

The first sight of her threatened to unman him. His legs shook beneath him. Over the month of his absence he had convinced himself that she was not the glorious being he had taken her for. It was the fact that he had been so long without a woman that had made her so appealing. Surrounding himself with pretty debutants had shown him there were many beautiful women around. And many of them were quite intelligent, in an insipid sort of way.

He had even visited a high class bordello, at the insistence of an old school friend
, who had assured him the best way to recover from one woman was by taking another. And there had been many beautiful women in that house, although he had not felt inclined to take them up on their offers of companionship. His heart was just not in it, even when he drank himself into a more receptive state. None of them were Phil. But they were certainly as beautiful as she was.

So, by the time he was making his way home, he was sure that when he saw her again he would be over his infatuation. That he would see her more rationally. Yes, she was a pretty woman, and an intelligent, brave and compassionate one. But that did not make her any more remarkable than a dozen other women. He was no longer starved for choice
, as he had been when he met her.

That was until he saw her coming down the other passageway, her back stiff, her beautiful face lifted so that she was looking down her nose at him. God, she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. Every other woman he had met in the last month pale
d into insignificance beside her. Only this one glorious female was the light to his darkness. How could he have been foolish enough to try convincing himself otherwise?

Her coldly polite snub was just what he expected after the way he had treated her. He had wanted it that way. It was easier that way. But he never thought it would hurt so much.
If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn a dagger now protruded from his chest, the pain of her polite rebuff was so extreme.

It was a bad idea coming back. He should have made some excuse and stayed away, even though he knew he was needed. Even though he knew it was the coward’s way out. But he hadn’t expected it to be this agonising. This hard.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Phil stood at the top of the stairs, breathing hard. She felt as if she had just climbed a mountain, and the
rarefied air at the summit was too thin to sustain life. Beads of perspiration had broken out on her forehead, and were, even now, trickling down into her eyes, making them sting with more than just unshed tears.

It had been too hard. Seeing him again had been too hard. It had brought back memories she had tried to forget. Memories of being held and kissed and treated like she was the most special wo
man in the world. Memories that were as beautiful as they were agonising, now that he no longer cared for her.

I cannot do this! Not now. Not ever. I
have to get away!

With no clear idea what she would do, Phil races up the stairs to her room, changed into riding clothes, grabbed her reticule, and flew back down to the back entrance. The house seemed oddly quiet. She wondered where Jamey was. She wondered where Byron was.
No, not Byron, she would not think about Byron!

The moon was already rising as she made her stumbling way down to the stables at the back of the Keep. Riding had never been her favourite pastime, although she learned to ride at school, as all upper class ladies did. Since coming to the Keep
, she had only ridden out a few times, with Jamey as her companion, down to the village in the valley below the moor. On those occasions she had been given a quiet grey mare with a soft mouth and accommodating ways.

Now in her desperate need to escape the Keep and its guardian, she hurried down the stalls until she found the mare. Saddling and bridling a horse
was not something she had done, but she had watched it often enough. After several missteps, she found a side-saddle, bridled the mare, and led her out to the mounting block where she juggled the weighty saddle into place, and cinched up the girth. By the time she was ready to mount, she was panting.

But undaunted, she gathered the reins
, and used the block to clamber into the saddle. She didn’t even take the time to straighten her skirts, before she was racing the mare into the dark moonlight. For a moment, she thought she heard a wolf’s howl, but she dismissed it. The sound of the wolves didn’t extend past the outer walls of the Keep. It was simply her imagination that conjured that all too familiar, blood-curdling sound.

Byron stood at the base of the stairs looking up to where he knew Phil must be. Every particle in his body drew him to her, and it was a physical struggle just to keep himself in place. His hands were shaking, and his heart was beating at what felt like twice its normal speed. So close, she was so close. After a long lonely month, they were once more in the same place. Only a few walls separated them. It would be too easy to…

‘Sir!’ Jamey cried, racing in through the front door.
The boy had been to the village to visit friends, and was late back. Byron hadn’t minded. Last month Jamey had done more than his share. He deserved to have time off from the harrowing task of guarding the wolves.

But the boy looked terrified as he scrambled toward him, gasping for air.

‘What is it Jamey?’ The lad was not prone to histrionics. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

‘I was just getting to the front stairs when Miss Phillie galloped past.’ He paused to draw in another painful breath. He had obviously been running to get back to the Keep in time for sunset.
What was Phil doing riding out at night?
‘Then a wolf ran past, close on her tail. Is it one of ours?’

Byron’s blood turned to ice in his veins.
A wolf? Surely not.
They were all locked away safely. Had he double checked tonight, or had been too preoccupied by thoughts of seeing Phil to do such a simple thing?

Without a word, he raced back down the hall to the dungeon door. He leapt down the stairs, caring nothing for their uneven, slippery surface.

First he checked the women. No, all seven were accounted for.

Then
he went to the men’s cells, his heartbeat escalating with each stride closer. Nine cells occupied. One cell door open, a key in the lock! How had this happened? Who was it who had escaped?

In his mind he saw each of the men before their transition. They usually took the same cell each month, and he was used to their positions. It was the last cell that was empty. The last wolf to join them.

Bobby was missing!

Trying not to think of how it had happened, or even why, Byron turned on his heel
, and dashed back down the tunnel. Jamey was at the bottom of the stairs, his breathing finally back in control. But his eyes were wide with fear.

‘It is Bobby!
He may be after Phil. Stay here and stand guard. I will go after them!’

‘The rifle is at the top of the stairs,’ Jamey said with a nod.

‘Good. I will take that. You get another from the gun rack. Check the cell doors first. I must go!’

He was already half way up the stairs by the time he finished speaking. There wasn’t a moment to spare. It was dangerous for Phil to be riding out at night like this. Her horse could miss a step in the moonlight. If she toppled and fell
, she would be a perfect target for a wolf on her trail. What had she been thinking? Was she insane!

But he knew what she was thinking. She was trying to get away from him. Just as he was struggling seeing her, she was obviously having the same level of difficulty
seeing him. But to leave on horseback on the night of a full moon! Surely he hadn’t driven her to such dire straits.

By the time he reached the stable, he was gasping for breath. With shaking hands
, he bridled his black stallion, Hawk, and threw himself onto his bare back, rifle in one hand. He was at full gallop before he cleared the stable doors.

There was only one way Phil could have gone. She would follow the track down to the village in the dale. With any luck
, she would stop there, and find shelter from the wolf on her tracks. With any luck!

But there was no sign of Phil or the wolf as he approached the village at full gallop. He looked up the moonlit road
, which ran alongside the beck toward Harrogate. Just at the very edge of his line of sight he saw a shadow moving. It was enough.

Driving his mount even
faster, he checked the rifle. It had one bullet. Only one bullet in the chamber. If he didn’t down the wolf with that first shot, he didn’t have a chance.

Hawk’s sides were white with foam, and he was breathing harshly w
hen they started gaining on the fleeing woman. Then the worst possibility occurred. He saw the mare stumble, and Phil pitched forward over her shoulder. In slow motion, she flew through the air to the shadowed ground, as the mare raced on without her.

Where was the wolf? He was not on th
e road between Phil and himself. Maybe he had been diverted by a sheep in the fields nearby. It was his only hope. If Phil had survived that fall she would not be so lucky to survive the wolf.

As he galloped to
ward where her crumpled body lay, he saw the shadow streak from the tree-line at the base of the moor. A sick jolt shot through him. Not distracted then. Just keeping to the shelter of the trees. The beast was ever the cautious, dangerous predator, watching and waiting its chance.

Only one bullet! Why hadn’t h
e taken the time to load more, or at least to drop a few bullets into his pocket? Nothing he did this night was like him. He was always so prepared for every eventuality. He always kept his calm, even when a wolf was on the loose. But not tonight. Not with Phil’s life at stake. All his cold resolve had vanished, and panic threatened to sabotage his every action.

By the time he reached them, the big black wolf was sniffing at the fallen woman. When he heard the horse approaching, he turned and snarled at the challenge.

Would he break and run for cover? Wolves were never willing to take on a superior foe. But the fallen woman was his prey, and it was possible he would fight to protect it.

Byron heard Phil gasp, as she t
ried to sit up. Not dead then, thank God! But the terrified sound drew the wolf’s attention back to her. If he as much as grazed her skin, Phil was sentenced to a living death. How could he stand it, watching her transform into one of these creatures month after month, watch her eaten away with self-loathing, preferring death to life as a monster?

He yelled a harsh,
guttural cry to attract the wolf, as he threw himself off Hawk’s back. If he was to have any chance of taking the creature down with his one shot, he needed steady ground beneath him.

The wolf turned back to
him with a jerk and another heart-jolting snarl. His muzzle was drawn back to reveal rows of sharp yellow teeth. Byron could see them shine in the moonlight.

Phil made a move to stand, and the wolf turned back to her, his body facing midpoint between the two humans, ready to lunge in Phil’s direction or his own.

‘Keep still!’ His voice was loud and harsh, and Phil immediately stopped moving. The wolf focused his gaze back on him.

Slowly, so very slowly, he raised the rifle to his shoulder
, and took aim. He was close. Too close to miss. But if the wolf bolted, as he fired, it might not take him down. A wounded wolf was an even more dangerous creature.

As he fired the rifle
, the wolf dived at him. Yelping, as the bullet struck him in the chest, the animal was thrown backwards by the force of the impact. He dropped to the ground, only feet from Phil’s side.

‘Oh no!’ Phil cried, as she saw the dead wolf transform back into human form. The naked body of Bobby, thin and white in the moonlight, lay where the black wolf had been
, only seconds before. A red bloom was forming in the centre of his white chest.

‘Oh no, no! Not Bobby! How could it be Bobby?’ She was scrambling to the lad’s side, reaching for him, trying to find life where there was none.

‘He’s gone, Phil. He would not have changed back if he was still alive.’ His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. This was his fault. If he had remained focused on his role as guardian, this would never have happened. The lad had clearly not been as resolved to his new life as they had thought. Somehow, he had planned his escape. There was no way Byron would have left a key in the lock, no matter how much his thoughts were on the woman before him. The boy had hidden a key, and used it the moment Byron’s back was turned.

Phil
was crying now, deep jagged sounds of grief and pain. Dropping the gun, he fell to his knees at her side, and reached for her. It was the most natural thing in the world to do. She belonged in his arms. Even in moments of terrible calamity, she belonged in his arms.

Phil must have felt it too, because she came to him easily, eagerly, desperately, seeking comfort, seeking stability in a world gone mad. She had cared for this boy, had seen him as her responsibility. Now he was dead, and it would seem so
terribly wrong to her.

To Byron, who
had been forced to kill before, it had always felt wrong.

She sobbed out her grief against his shirt. He held her tightly
, until the tense waves of pain began to recede. When the crying had finally stopped, he gently drew her from him, so he could look into her eyes.

‘How did this happen?’ Her voice was hoarse and brittle, li
ke broken glass crunching underfoot.

‘I do not know. I did not double check the doors after I locked them. Sometime between when I turned the key and took it away, and he transformed, he must have placed a copy into his lock
, and edged the door open just enough so that when the wolf pressed against it, it would open.

‘How he found a key
, I have no idea. How he was able to get out of the dungeons, and then the house, I do not know. Maybe I left the door at the top of the cellar stairs off the latch…’

‘I may have
left the back door ajar when I left. I was not thinking clearly, I must admit. All I wanted was to get away…’

‘From me.’ He didn’t phrase it as a question. He knew the answer already.

‘Yes… you. And because of it, Bobby is dead. I will never forgive myself.’

‘You did nothing wrong. I was the one who was not here to monitor the lad during the last month. He seemed so accepting of his situation when I left. To be honest, I did not give him another thought
, until I saw the cell door ajar. He must have come back with us, determined that he would find a way to escape when the wolf rose. The others would have been watching him closely over the last month, so there would have been no chance of escape before the full moon. But once they were all locked away… well, it was his chance. Foolish, foolish boy.’

‘What do we do now?’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.

‘Now we put his body across Hawk’s back, and walk him home. It will take at least an hour, and we will have to pass through the village. But it is late. The chances of anyone being about will be small.’

Hawk didn’t like the smell of death. And he certainly didn’t like having a dead body slung over his bare back. But he was well trained, and so he stood, his skin rippling, nostrils flared, as Byron loaded him up.