Highland Wolf Pact (8 page)

“She was captured by the MacFalon huntsman.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “And she could’na change form, not in ’er state.”

“So you… how do you…do what you do?” Sibyl cocked her head, wondering at it. “Does everyone here change? Are you all… wulvers?”

She couldn’t believe her own questions, given how impossible, how incredible it all seemed. Thinking about it still made her a little woozy, but she couldn’t continue to deny what she’d seen with her very own eyes nor could she just continue to faint at the thought of something so unnatural. The facts were the facts. The she-wolf Laina had transformed, and so had this man.

“Yer a curious lil thing.” He smiled. “We are what we are. And have always been.”

So he didn’t want to talk about it. She sat back, still feeling woozy, but for a whole different reason.

“I’m stuffed.” She gave a satisfied sigh.

“Would ye like a bath?” he asked. “Ye can soak in one of the hot springs. Kirstin’ll show ye…”

“No.” She shook her head, eyes widening at the thought of being so vulnerable in such a strange place. She’d let her guard down enough to stuff herself full of food. 

“We will’na harm ye, lass,” he assured her for the umpteenth time. “I saved ye from being captured by the laird’s men, a’member? I promise no harm’ll come t’ye here.”

“I don’t doubt you…” She met his eyes, knowing it was true. In spite of the strangeness of her predicament, in spite of the apparent reality of this new world, where men turned to wolves and back again, she believed him. “But your brother, Darrow? He sounded like he might have been considering having
shasennach
for dinner.”

Raife laughed at her use of the Gaelic word.

“He’s angry I brought ye here.” The man shrugged his big, heavily muscled shoulders. “But ye freed Laina. I could’na let ye stay out there alone. Not wit’ MacFalon’s men searchin’ for ye.”

“I don’t know…” Sibyl glanced toward the doorway, considering her options. “Maybe I should just go now…”

If they were really going to let her go, she thought, she needed to do so as soon as possible, before they changed their minds. If Darrow was angry about her being there, he would only grow angrier over time.

“Tis dark and there’s no moon. Ye would’na get far.” Raife shook his head, eyes narrowing. “Tis not safe out there.”

“I’m not sure it’s safe in here,” she murmured, remembering Darrow’s anger, the way he spat the word
shasennach
.

“Trust me, we can’na kill a human. It’d bring King Henry and all of yer kind down on our heads, because of the pact,” Raife informed her. “Not that yer betrothed wasn’t already breakin’ it.”

“The pact?” She cocked her head, puzzled, as someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Raife called.

“Are ye finished then?” A pretty, young girl with long, curly, dark hair peeked around the door, dimples showing as she smiled at Raife. She wore plaid too, as a skirt, belted at the waist, but underneath it was a long-sleeved, saffron tunic. Her legs were bare though, and so were her feet. It was still strange to Sibyl that Scots women went around with their hair uncovered and so much of their skin bared.

“Thank ye, Kirstin.” He smiled at the girl, waving her into the room. “Will ye take Lady Sibyl to me private spring for a hot bath and get ’er somethin’ else t’wear?”

“A’course!” Kirstin agreed, smiling at Sibyl, and she suddenly recognized her. This was the young woman who had tended the birth with the old midwife. “I’ll take these ta the kitchen and bring somethin’ back fer ye.”

“No, you don’t have to.” Sibyl shook her head, glancing down at her dress. It was torn and dirty, but it would be quite warm. She’d lost her hat—not that it had been much protection—and her wrap too, but this dress would serve her well out there in the woods, she thought. “I’ll be fine in this.”

“Ye can’na wear that.” Kirstin wrinkled her brown little nose. She was a brown girl, all over, her arms and legs, even the tops of her feet. She spent time in the sun, Sibyl thought, watching the girl clear their bowls and spoons, putting them onto a wooden tray she’d carried in with her. “I’ll get ye a proper plaid. And ye must have somethin’ t’sleep in. I’ll be righ’back.”

Something to sleep in. That, of course, begged the question—where was she to sleep? Here, in this room? With… him? Sibyl glanced up, meeting his dancing blue eyes, and she could have sworn he was reading her very thoughts. She felt her cheeks redden, her body warming all the way to her toes. There was only one bed in this room, and while it was plenty big enough for two, that was hardly the point. Still, she couldn’t force the man out of his own room. That didn’t seem right either.

“This room is yers, while yer here.” Raife stood, nodding at the mattress Sibyl had woken up on. “I’ll be outside if ye need me.”

“But… isn’t this your room?” She frowned, glancing around at the walls decorated with claymores and crossed swords. She had a feeling they weren’t all for show, like they appeared to be in Alistair’s castle. “I can’t take your room. Please, I don’t need—”

“I will’na hear of it.” Raife held up his hand, shaking his head and smiling as he looked down into her eyes. She felt like she could get lost in them, the way she did on warm, lazy days, watching clouds drift by. “Ye take yerself a bath, Lady Sibyl. Get a good night’s rest. We’ll talk more in the mornin’.”

He turned to go, but she couldn’t let him. Not without saying it. She reached out and touched his wrist, thick and heavily veined under her palm as she clasped it in her hand. Raife glanced down at where she touched him, then his gaze skipped to meet hers. Those eyes turned dark, from blue skies to the deepest part of the ocean.

“Thank you.” She swallowed, sliding her hand down into his, squeezing gently. His hand was so big, it swallowed hers. “I… don’t know how to thank you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked down at their hands, locked together, then back into her eyes. She thought she just might lose herself in them, truly. Was she under some sort of spell? Bewitched? Is that how it worked? Her heart hammered. Her breath quickened. Her skin felt too tight, all over, as if she couldn’t quite contain herself.

“Ye were brave, lass.” His voice was low, eyes soft, as he lifted his other hand to touch her cheek. His fingers were rough, calloused, tracing the line of her jaw. “So verra brave… yer father woulda been proud.”

His words brought tears to her eyes. Her lower lip quivered and she swallowed, trying to hold them in, but they wouldn’t stay back. They spilled over, down her cheeks, and Raife moved to cup her face in his hands, gently wiping them away with his thumbs.

“G’nite.” He took a step back, turning toward the door as Kirstin came in, carrying clothes.

“Good night,” Sibyl called. She saw him hesitate, give a brief nod, and then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

She stared after him, remembering what he’d said that had brought her to tears. She had been thinking about her father just before she had freed the she-wolf, saying that very same thing to herself.
He would have been proud.
And while she believed it was true, the thing she couldn’t quite understand was—how had Raife known that?

How had he known?

Sibyl gave all her clothes to Kirstin and, after a long soak in the hot spring—where she nearly fell asleep and might have drowned if the Scotswoman hadn’t come in—she let the girl wash and dress her for bed like a child and tuck her in, too. Sibyl’s eyes closed all on their own. She couldn’t keep them open. The girl moved around the room, straightening and singing to herself, but Sibyl was only peripherally aware. The day had been long and she was exhausted. Before she fell asleep, she caught the scent of Raife on her pillow. It was the last thing she remembered, smiling to herself, until she woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a baby crying. 

She woke with a start, the room cool—the fire had burned low—not knowing where she was. Then it came back to her in an instant. She remembered everything. Everything. And the chill wasn’t all that made her shudder. She was in a wolves’ den and, if any of them wanted to kill her, that door wouldn’t keep them out. Sibyl put her head back down on the pillow—it still smelled like Raife—and tried to sleep again.

But the baby continued to cry.

She tried to judge how close it was. Things seemed to echo down here. Sound was strange. But it sounded very close. Right next door mayhaps. Laina’s baby? Was it ill? The sound went on and on. The baby was frantic now.

Sibyl got up, glancing around for something to put on, but her dress was gone. She was wearing her underwear and a long shirt that came to mid-thigh. There was a plaid on the chair and a leather belt. Sibyl did her best, cinching the belt around her waist over her nightshirt, so the plaid hung just past her bare knees, and then pulled the extra plaid fabric over her shoulder, tucking it into her belt. She considered going out into the hallway barefoot—she couldn’t find her stockings or garters—but the mountain floor was cold, so she tied her soft-soled shoes on before opening the big door to her room.

The sound of the baby crying was louder here. It was a lusty, wailing cry. The poor thing sounded hungry. Sibyl crept down the dark hall, heart thudding hard in her chest, hoping she wouldn’t run into any wolves. She didn’t exactly relish coming face-to-face with an animal in the darkness, even if Raife had assured her that none of them meant her any harm.

“Laina?” Sibyl called the woman’s name outside the next door. The baby’s cry was definitely coming from there and, as far as she knew, this was the room she had woken up in. This was where the white she-wolf had birthed her baby. She knocked, waiting for an answer. “Laina? Are you in there?”

She told herself she should just go back to her room, close the door, and ignore it. This wasn’t her place, it wasn’t her child. She told herself, while she was at it, she should probably just go back to her room, grab her satchel, and slip out of this place in the middle of the night. But she did neither. Instead, she put her hand on the latch and pushed. The door swung open.

“Laina?” Sibyl saw the woman on the mattress near the fire, her back bare, the sheet pulled up. The baby was beside her on the mattress, waving his fists in the air, his face red from crying. Hungry, she thought. She had been an only child but she had spent enough time with her father’s healer, tending birthing and nursing women, to know that cry.

The midwife was gone. She wondered where Darrow was, but mayhaps, like many animals, male wolves were a danger to their own young? She couldn’t remember enough about wolves and their behavior, cursing the fact they’d been outhunted in England by mid-century. Was Laina so exhausted from the birth she slept right through the babe’s cries?

“Are you all right?” Sibyl crept closer, suddenly imagining this woman turning back into the great, white wolf she had been, imagined the wolf seeing a human approaching her baby, seeing her as a threat and tearing Sibyl’s throat out.

In spite of that image, in spite of her fear, Sibyl crept forward. She touched the woman’s shoulder and Laina moaned softly, but didn’t wake, even when Sibyl shook her.

“Laina?” Sibyl reached down, scooping the baby up in her arms in hopes of comforting and quieting it, at least for the moment, turning the woman toward her with her other hand.

That’s when she saw the blood on the sheet and all over the mattress. Laina was bleeding, and badly. Sibyl felt the oppressive cold of the mountain overtake her. She’d watched women bleed to death in childbirth. Every woman she’d ever known who had become heavy with child was terrified of dying during the process.

“Laina! Wake up!”

Sibyl shook the woman, hard. If she could keep her awake, it would help mitigate the blood loss. How much could one person lose before they died? Sibyl wondered. She’d watched her father’s men bleed from injuries before and had helped the healer on more than one occasion. One man had lost a leg to the tusk of a boar and she had watched the healer tie it off with his belt and save the man. But how could you ebb this flow of blood? She couldn’t cinch the poor woman in the middle! She tried to remember the births she’d attended with the healer, looking to jog her memory. She’d tended births with the healer on more than one occasion before her mother found out and put a stop to the whole thing.

“Shh, shhhhh.” Sibyl hefted the baby up on her shoulder, pulling the sheet back, seeing blood pooling between the woman’s bare legs. “It’s all right, little one. Let’s take care of your mama so you can eat, hungry baby.”

She talked to herself, pressing the woman’s abdomen, watching more blood seep out between her thighs. This was bad. Very bad.

“What’re ye doin’?” Raife’s voice startled her and Sibyl gasped, whirling to see him standing in the doorway. “I saw ye leave yer room.”

Saw her? Where had he been, she wondered, that he saw her leave? She hadn’t seen him in the darkness. Of course, she couldn’t see in the dark and had simply followed the sound of the baby crying. Could wulvers see in the dark? She wondered, meeting those bright blue eyes.

“I heard the baby,” she explained. “It wouldn’t stop crying. I thought… I wondered… I think… I think she needs help. She’s bleeding and I can’t wake her.”

“Laina?” Raife frowned, stepping into the room, unmindful of the woman’s nude body or any modicum of modesty. Sibyl noticed, for the first time, the woman had an intricate marking, covering her thigh and hip. It looked as if someone had drawn on the woman in ink. “Where’s Darrow?”

“I do not—”

“Laina, I brought the—” Darrow stopped in the doorway, seeing his brother standing over his wife’s bleeding form, Sibyl holding his child. The tall man snarled at her and Sibyl shrank back. “Get outta here!”

“She’s hurt, brother.” Raife took a step between Sibyl and Darrow, one hand on his brother’s chest, keeping the man away from Sibyl’s trembling form.

“I fetched Kirstin.” Darrow frowned, looking down in concern at Laina’s inert form. “I woke and she was bleedin’. I—”

“I need more t’stop this!” Kirstin was already on her knees, using the bloody sheet between the woman’s legs. “Darrow! More cloth, or she’ll die!”

“Tis so much blood.” Raife’s eyes were wide with fear and Sibyl didn’t blame him. Birthing was bloody, dangerous business.

“It happens, sometimes,” Sibyl said softly, hoping Darrow didn’t hear her.

“I’ve never seen a wolf bleed like this after a birth!” Kirstin protested, grabbing the cloth Darrow brought, trying to stem the blood flow, but it was useless.

“Women do,” Sibyl countered. “Women die in childbirth all the time.”

“But
wulvers
do’na, ya ken?” Kirstin snapped. She was afraid too—terrified. Sibyl was surprised by their reaction. In her world, everyone knew this could happen. “I’ve never seen this. Get Beitris, Darrow! Quick now!”

Darrow ran. The old midwife might know what to do, but Sibyl wasn’t sure she would, if it was true that wulvers did not bleed out this way after birth. There wasn’t time for consulting texts. Sibyl knew what to do for this kind of bleed, had learned on the knee of her father’s healer, and remembered as much as she was going to.

“Do you have dried goldenrod?” Sibyl asked Kirstin. The girl was up to her elbows in blood over Laina’s inert form. “Shepherd’s purse?”

“Nuh.” Kirstin shook her head helplessly, meeting Sibyl’s eyes. She saw tears in them. Laina would certainly die without intervention and the girl knew it.

“I saw some on the way in,” Sibyl murmured. She had, although how she remembered it, given the circumstances, she couldn’t quite explain, except that, like her father had taught her, she had an awareness of her surroundings most people did not. “But it is the middle of the night. I would not be able to find it. And she does not have until morning.”

Raife touched Sibyl’s arm, alarm in his eyes. There was no time for panic.

“Do you have cayenne?” Sibyl asked Kirstin. “To add heat, for cooking?”

“We do ’ave some!” Kirstin brightened. “Inna kitchen!”

“Good!” Sibyl nodded, “Get it. Stir a teaspoon into boiling water. Make her to drink it scalding hot. She will not want to. Force her.”

Darrow showed up with Beitris, the old midwife, whose eyes grew even wider than Kirstin’s at the amount of blood on the bed.

“Take the babe,” Sibyl instructed the old midwife as Kirstin ran out, hands still covered in blood, to look for the cayenne. “And put him at her breast. Make him suckle.” 

The baby was still mewling with hunger, his face turning back and forth, rooting.

“Should’na be a problem, he’s starvin’.” Beitris knelt with the child, tucking it in against Laina’s pale body. “But won’t it cause ’er t’lose more fluid?”

Beside them, Darrow howled. It was an inhuman sound that rose the hackles on the back of Sibyl’s neck. There was so much pain in the sound, it would have brought Sibyl to her own knees if Raife hadn’t been beside her, holding tight to her elbow.

“No, it will help,” Sibyl assured the old woman. The baby had latched on already, suckling, greedy. She looked up, meeting Raife’s concerned gaze. “I hope it will help enough before we can get back.”

“We?” He stared at her, aghast.

“Take me back into the woods.” Sibyl looked up at him, remembering the breakneck speed the wolves had run on the way in. “We will find what we need.”

Raife met his brother’s eyes, a low communication passing between them.

“We’ll be righ’back, brother. She’ll live. Sibyl knows what t’do.” Raife looked down at Sibyl, taking her small hand in his giant one as he led her into the dark hallway, and she hoped against hope that the words he spoke were true. She stopped for a moment in her room to empty her packed satchel out onto the bed.

“Hang on tight,” he instructed, his eyes grim in the tunnel’s torchlight.

“I will.”

She couldn’t watch. Instead, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck and she
felt
him shift. Firm, hard, hairless flesh transformed into softness and fur, the muscle and bone changing underneath. She didn’t understand this magic, but she didn’t have time to think about it, because Raife was running, and she was riding.

They passed the sentry without stopping and he did not stop them, likely recognizing Raife needed no challenge or permission. Raife had been right—there was no moon and it was so dark she could see nothing. She would have to rely on Raife’s sense of smell and sight.

“You’ll know the goldenrod,” Sibyl told him. “It smells like old, wet socks.”

He found it right away. The wolf shook his big head and sneezed as she gathered it in by the armfuls, shoving it into the satchel she’d emptied for this purpose.

“Shepherd’s purse smells like…” Sibyl frowned, trying to think how to describe it. But the wolf howled. He’d found it a ways down the path and came back to lead her to it in the darkness. She tripped over rocks and had to steady herself against his thickly muscled hide.

“Pungent, isn’t it?” Sibyl made a face, yanking the shepherd’s purse up by the roots. “But it will do the job. I hope. Hurry, Raife. Get us back.”

He howled, a sound that shook her to her bones as she grabbed onto his neck and he ran like the wind. The entrance to the cave, hidden even during the daytime, was a black hole. Sibyl clung to him, hoping what was in her satchel might save a woman’s life tonight.

“Boil this!” Sibyl slid off Raife as he skidded just past the doorway where she knew Laina lay near death. She didn’t wait for him before bursting into the room, already pulling the pungent herbs from the satchel and handing them over to a stunned, worried-looking Kirstin. “You’re going to make a tea for her to drink.”

“Laina?” Sibyl sat beside the woman. She was more lucid, the baby at her breast being held there by Darrow. “Can you hear me?”

The blonde woman shook her head, moaning, but it was a good sign.

“Her belly is still distended.” Sibyl pressed down hard on it and Laina howled. Good. More blood seeped from between her legs into the absorbent cloth. The sac where the baby had been housed in Laina’s belly needed to firm up, contract, and grow smaller. The same contractions that had pushed the baby out would make that happen.

“What are ye doin’?” Beitris frowned. “Ye’re makin’er bleed more!”

“Leave ’er be,” Raife snapped. He was human again—Sibyl didn’t need to look around to know that, she heard it in his voice. “She knows what t’do.”

He had more faith in her than Sibyl actually possessed but she was grateful for the vote of confidence. Kirstin already had the goldenrod and shepherd’s purse in a pot of boiling water over the fire.