episode 2
1540 Words
Hazel stomped over to the be pull and tugged hard. She probably woke every
a servant in residence, but at the moment, she couldn't be bothered to care.
She needed to leave Hampshire, leave London for good, and never look back.
Oliver sank into the Duke of Blackmoor's
large leather chair and buried his face in his hands. What had he done? Of
course, he knew the answer to that. Under the power of the full moon, he'd bitten
the girl--a lady he didn't even know, for God's sake. He should have been
shackled this evening, not roaming around free. How did the other Lycans
manage to control themselves?
Oliver groaned aloud. His circumstances had gone from bad to worse in the blink
of a bad decision. The image of the angelic Scottish lass flooded his
memory. She smelled so delightful, like fresh honeysuckle. Where did one even
find honeysuckle in January?
The fact that she was stunning didn't help. He hadn't been in control of his thoughts or actions from the moment she stepped into Blackmoor's study.
What was she doing padding through the ducal estate in the middle of the night
during a moonful anyway? Didn't she know that Lycans inhabited the
residence? Didn't she know it was dangerous to go around looking the way she
did with men like him about?
Oliver peered through his fingers and noticed that she'd taken his book, and he
cringed. At first, he'd been amused when she had picked up his little
journal, claiming it as her own. But he'd had no intention of letting her flee with
it. The contents were not fit for a lady's eyes. The journal held details about
every w***e in and around Covent Garden--physical descriptions, addresses,
specialties of sorts, and ratings. The idea of her reading it made his
stomach churn. Facing the pretty little Scottish angel in the morning would be
more than difficult if she had read even one entry.
Face her in the morning?
Dear God, he hadn't meant to bite the chit, though he'd never forget the rush he
had experienced when he'd marked her flesh. It was more intense than
any release he'd ever enjoyed in his life.
It was best not to think about that, or he'd chase after her and finish what they'd
started. Neither the Duke of Blackmoor nor Major would forgive
him that indiscretion. And he was already in enough trouble with the Westfield
pack. If he had any hope of finding a Lycan mentor, he would have to be
honest with them about his most recent actions. It was the only way to gain their
trust, after all, he'd tried to do to them.
Oliver wasn't accustomed to asking anyone for help, and the idea didn't sit well
with him. For twenty-six years, he'd suffered in silence, not
understanding what or who he was. And now that he knew, he had to know more. He needed to find a way to earn the Westfields' forgiveness. That was
the only way for him to obtain salvation.
He heard Major Forster before the old wolf opened the study door. The retired
the officer appeared much more at peace than he had a few hours ago.
Oliver wished he could say the same for himself.
The old man cleared his throat. "Well, I see you managed to stay put. That is
something."
"I bit a girl." The words flew out of Oliver's mouth before he could stop them.
Major's brown eyes rounded in surprise. "I beg your pardon?
Oliver shook his head as he rushed to explain. "I didn't go looking for her. She
came to me, and I was weak-
"Where did you bite her?"
"Here, in His Grace's study," Oliver moaned.
"Not where " the major snapped. "Where on her body?"
"What difference does that make?" Oliver started. But then something dangerous
flashed in the major's eyes. Oliver pointed to the area where his neck
met his shoulder. "Right here."
"Are you saying you claimed a woman?"
"I'm not certain," Oliver admitted as he closed his eyes to block out the man's
disapproving expression. "I thought you should know."
"Dear God!" the old man grumbled. "Now you'll bring Blackmoor's wrath down
on both of us."
Oliver opened his eyes. What did the major mean by that? " Both of us?"
The officer scrubbed a hand over his face. "I was supposed to keep an eye on you," he growled. Then he lowered his hands and leveled an
intimidating glare at Oliver. "Who was she?"
Oliver shrugged. "I don't know. She was beautiful. Flowing blond hair and light
blue eyes."
Major gulped. "Did she speak to you?" he asked softly.
Oliver nodded.
"And was she Scottish?" It seemed as though the words were wrenched from
him.
"Yes," Oliver admitted. "You know who she is." That much was obvious.
The major winced and rubbed his temples as if the action would relieve his pain.
"Aye, I know the lass. Knew her mother, too. This isn't good, Lord
. Not good at all ."
"Wel, certainly, there's something that can be done. I didn't mean to bite her, and
she--"
"It doesn't work that way, my lord. When you bit her, the moon was full. You
claimed her as your Lycan mate under a bloody full moon, you lummox.
You're connected to the lass now. God help both of you."
"Wel, what does that mean?"
"It means," the officer began as he dropped into one of the duke's leather chairs,
"that she's your mate from now until one of you dies."
"My mate?" Oliver gaped at him. "But I don't even know the girl. Surely
something like this has happened before. There has to be a way to remedy--"
"Aye, Lord. This is not the first time a Lycan, drunk on the spel of the
moon has claimed an unintended mate." The major shuddered. "I don't
know of one instance where there was a happy ending, however."Why?" Oliver asked as he sank into a seat across from the old officer, his heart
hammering in his chest, still not ready to believe there wasn't a way
out of the situation.
"Because the lass doesn't love you, my lord. You said yourself you didn't even
know her. Marrying one of us, mating with one of us is hard enough for
women who love us every other day of the month.
"But you've attached yourself to a woman who cares nothing for you, and she's
not bound by the same rules that apply to you and me. Whereas it takewill
be impossible for you to another woman to bed, Miss Mac can marry
whomever she wants. And you'll be left all alone until the connection is
broken."
The prediction was troubling on more than one front. Oliver wasn't a stranger to
entertaining women in their chambers. He couldn't imagine not being
able to do so anymore. He wasn't certain he even believed the man. It wasn't
possible for him to lose that desire.
But what was even more bothersome was that his Scottish angel could choose
another man over him. That hardly seemed fair. The thought of the
delightful creature, he'd held in his arms that very night marrying someone else
was like a blade to his heart. Which didn't make much sense. He didn't
even know the lass.
"Miss Mac?" he asked. At least he had a name.
Major nodded. "Hazel. She's a friend of my daughter, Rose."
Oliver leaped out of his seat. "I'll have to talk to her."
"You'll do no such thing," the old officer growled. "And you won't say a word
about this to anyone until I can sort out what to do."But, I--"
"Sit down," Major barked. "In case you've forgotten, Lord ,
you are not a welcome guest at Westfield Hal. Your sins are numerous
and we both know them, the most important being you are an uncontrol able,
feral Lycan. And if you think I'll al ow you to stalk the hall s of this home, you
are sadly mistaken."
The air whooshed out of Oliver's lungs. "That's why I've come to you for help, sir.
I need a mentor, and--"
"You are here because His Grace, Lord Benj, and I kept Lord Wil iam from
tearing you to shreds when you tried to claim his wife this very
evening. Now sit down while I think," the man ordered gruffly.
"Trying to claim Lord Wil Liam's wife was a poor decision on my part--" Oliver
began. If he could just explain.
"I said, ' Sit!'" the major snarled.
Oliver tucked his tail into a chair and watched a series of emotions flash across
the other man's face.
Finally, the major sat taller and rubbed his chin. "You do need a mentor, and I
need to keep you far from the Westfields."
"I mean them no harm."
"As you have already escaped from me once, my lord, please understand that I
don't intend to take your word for it."
Oliver could see the man's point.
"My family hails from Glasgow. I've got a cousin, a shipbuilder, who still lives
there. I'm certain I can persuade him to take you on."
Glasgow? Oliver shook his head.
- Writer
