Winterwood, page 31
part #1 of Rowankind Series
On a personal level, to right this wrong might cost the lives of seven magical children, and all of the remaining Sumner family. I was under no illusion; the Fae would probably not be unhappy to see the Sumners wiped out after what we’d . . . after what Martyn had done. This was truly a case of the sins of the fathers, or in this case, the seven or eight-times great-grandfather, coming down to rest upon the shoulders of the children.
“Why now?” I muttered.
Corwen gave me a sidelong glance.
“If I die, does Philip inherit the Great Power?” I asked him.
“I don’t think it works like that, otherwise Rosie would have inherited it when your mother died. Always to the firstborn.”
“My firstborn is dead.”
There was a long pause while he took in the new information. I wondered if it made any difference to the way he felt about me, to know that I’d carried another man’s child.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” His sincerity was evident in the tone of his voice. “That explains why the Fae are suddenly keen for this to happen now. Your firstborn—a boy or a girl?”
“A boy.”
“Your son would have had the Great Power, which means you’re the last of your kind.”
“The last hope for the rowankind?”
“Yes.”
I nodded. It was a minor miracle that the Sumner firstborns had all survived to breed a next generation—until now.
“I feel as if I am being pulled and pushed, and all I want to do is live my own life. I never wanted any of this magic. I tried to leave it behind. Why can’t I have a few more years to be me?”
Corwen didn’t answer. There was nothing he could say.
“This isn’t your fight, Corwen. Go home.” I suddenly felt very tired.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I told you it’s not your fight.”
“I jumped the fire with you.”
“That was for the Fae’s benefit. It wasn’t real. We didn’t say the words.”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been prepared to stand by it.”
He nudged his horse in close to mine, reached across and took my hand. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye, but I studied his strong, capable hand, the palm free of calluses, the fingers long and well shaped, the nails clean and neat.
Will’s ghost, curiously absent during our time in Iaru, shifted behind me on the horse. Can you trust him? he asked.
“Yes,” I said, and then realized that Corwen would take that the wrong way.
Let’s go back to sea, Will’s ghost whispered in my ear. I really don’t like him.
Would you like anyone who took an interest in me? I kept my response to Will internal.
There was a long silence, and I thought he’d gone, but eventually he shuddered as if sucking in breath. James Mayo. I like him. Yes.
You only say that because you know Gentleman Jim was a mistake I won’t repeat.
There was a long silence and then he asked, Do you love Corwen?
I didn’t answer him.
29
Corwen
WE TOOK ROOMS AT the White Hart on the edge of St. George’s Fields, or at least I thought we’d taken rooms. I shouldn’t have let Corwen see to it while I checked on the horses. When he led me from the supper room up the stairs I found we’d taken a room—singular—and it was sparsely furnished with only one bed.
“What’s this?” I asked suspiciously.
“It’s a bed.”
“I know. It’s my bed. Where’s yours?”
He held index finger and thumb a whisker apart. “We’ve been sleeping this close together for the last—”
“That’s different. Out in the forest. Fully dressed.”
“Keep your clothes on if you prefer. It’s near freezing in here, anyway.”
He was right, the small fire barely took the chill off the room.
He raised one eyebrow. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor when there’s room for two under the covers?” He sat on the edge of the bed and it dipped obligingly, looking soft, comfortable and surprisingly clean. He began to pull off his shirt.
“Corwen—”
“Relax. Do you feel safer like this?” He took off his shirt, dropped down on to all fours and jumped up onto the bed as a silver wolf, pointedly putting his paws over his eyes.
I was almost disappointed.
I turned down the oil lamp to the softest glimmer and shrugged out of my clothes by feel. I was grateful to unfasten my breast binding and slip on a shift.
“Have you got fleas?” I asked, feeling Corwen’s weight, comfortably heavy on top of the blankets next to me.
His tongue licked my ear. A kiss of sorts. I reached out, feeling his ruff, soft under my hand. Comfortable. I let my hand stroke his fur. I know I shouldn’t have, but it was hard to resist. Then it wasn’t fur under my hand any more, it was warm skin, a well-muscled shoulder. He raised himself up on one elbow and pushed my hair back off my face.
“I don’t think you know what an effect you’ve had on me.” His kiss left no doubt about his desire.
I swear my arm wrapped around his neck all by itself. I had absolutely no intention of twining my fingers in his hair, so like, yet unlike, his wolf fur, and rising up to meet his kiss. I certainly hadn’t intended to enjoy those warm lips on mine moving so slowly and sensuously. Giddiness swept through me, and I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
This was not part of my plan. I groaned and started to pull away.
“Ross, I . . .” He rolled back a little, just enough to give me a breathing space. “Only if it’s right for you.”
“Shh.” I leaned into him again and pulled him close, fastening my lips on to his. Heat spread from the pit of my belly.
The coverlet was still between us, and Corwen’s weight held it down, but a wriggle and a twist freed me from its confines, and also from my shift. Though the chill of the room gave me goose bumps down my back I stretched myself against Corwen’s nakedness, feeling that delicious contact, flesh to flesh, from breast to toe. Now it was his turn to groan as I thrust my hips forward, rubbing my belly against him and feeling him hard against my softness.
He massaged the goose bumps out of my back, taking his time, exploring every inch before stroking my side and gradually working his way up to my breast. I gasped as he kissed my mouth again before moving down slowly from chin to throat and then down again, until his tongue found my nipple.
I traced the smooth curve of his flank, feeling a shock run through his muscles at my touch. My fingers marveled at the shape of him as they traveled from back to front, chest, belly, and that little line of hair that leads downward to the point of no return.
I was ready.
So ready.
Will’s ghost towered above us, luminous in the blackness. Ross. Ross!
“Will!” If someone had thrown a bucket of seawater over me they couldn’t have brought me back to reality more suddenly.
I jerked away from Corwen, hearing him curse softly as he rolled over.
“Away, Tremayne.” Corwen sprang off the bed and squared up to Will. I put a witchlight up into the rafters, seeing its golden glow reflected off Corwen’s powerful back muscles.
Will’s face was a mask of fury. If he could have struck Corwen down, he would have.
She’s my wife, Wolfman.
“Until death did you part, ghost. She’s mine now!”
Will looked to me. Call me, Ross. Summon me! Make me solid. I’ll fight for your honor.
“My honor’s not at stake, Will.”
Then I’ll fight for my honor!
I could see the tension running through Corwen’s body, but he’d adopted the ready pose of a natural fighter, weight forward, arms loose, knees slightly flexed. “If that’s what it takes, Tremayne, let’s get it over with.”
I rolled across the bed and stepped between them. “I will not be fought over. Will, I’m no longer yours. When you died, I grieved so long and so deep that it nearly killed me. I tried to keep you with me. I tried so hard—but I was wrong. The living and the dead don’t belong together.
“Corwen, let’s get possession out of the way. I’ll come to you, be with you, love you, but I won’t belong to you. I belong only to me.”
I pushed Corwen back a pace with my hand against his bare chest. My hand passed right through Will, but he backed off as if he could feel it.
Ross. I love you.
“And I love you, Will. I’ll never love anyone in quite the same way, but we’re not in the world together any more. I used to think it didn’t matter. I used to think I could make it not matter, that we could still love each other, but I was wrong. I want this with Corwen.”
Like you wanted your night with James Mayo? He looked past me at Corwen. What’s the matter, Wolfman, didn’t you know she’d fucked that whoreson pirate?
“That’s my business, Will. You’ve no right to be so downright mean.”
Corwen’s expression never changed. “You heard the lady. She’s her own woman. You say you love her. If you do, give her your blessing to move on and make a new life.”
Will’s ghost gave a strangled sob and vanished with an audible pop. There was a lingering aroma of ozone and rum, and I thought I heard, It’s not over yet.
I stared at the space where Will had been until Corwen’s voice, low and gentle, brought me back to the present.
“Come away under the covers, you’ll catch your death of cold.”
We were both standing there naked, and I realized I was shivering.
Corwen pulled the covers back and drew me to the mattress.
He didn’t rush.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for the longest time.”
I let the witchlight soften to barely brighter than a single candle flame. Corwen tutted over the livid bruises left from my fight with his werewolf and rubbed them gently with his fingertips.
“They may look bad, but they don’t hurt much now.”
“And this?” His fingers drew the line of the scar across my ribs.
“It’s old. Will stitched that one up.”
“Was he a good man? Good to you, I mean?”
“Yes, he was.”
“I’m glad. If you’re not ready to move on, I can wait.”
“I’m ready.”
Was I really?
Corwen’s readiness was obvious.
I let my fingers return to the muscles of his chest and back, surprisingly unmarked by scars or bruises, waiting for the hot liquid fire to reclaim my body, but it was taking its time. Will had well and truly doused it. “You seem to take good care of yourself.”
“Not always, but I heal fast. The change helps. As bones and flesh undergo their metamorphosis they heal. I couldn’t grow back a missing limb or cure a mortal disease, but I can deal with a gash or a bite or a broken bone.”
“There’s so much I don’t know. Have you always been a wolf?”
“I first changed when I was seven. Scared my parents half to death. It came as a shock to my mother as no one had told her about my great-grandfather who died before she was born. My grandmother had to explain it to the family. Can’t say they were very happy about it.”
“Will you age seven times faster than I do?”
“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “I’ll age normally.”
“It was you in the forest, wasn’t it? Leading us a merry dance for the Lady?”
“Of course. Even then you stirred up such feelings in me. I wanted to ravish you and protect you and eat you all at the same time.” He sighed and ran his hands down my body. “Wolf emotions are complicated. I wouldn’t have eaten you, of course. You’ve seen the difference between my wolf and the beast.”
I shivered.
“You’re cold.”
“No.”
But I was.
He sighed. “I understand. Will just doused your passion. Come here. We’ve got time.”
He pulled the sheet and blankets around us both and drew me to him. Folds of linen separated my skin from his, but his warmth seeped through into my bones. He kissed my cheek and I snuggled close.
“Corwen, I . . .”
“Shh, just go to sleep.”
I was too wound up to sleep. Long after Corwen’s breathing steadied and deepened, I lay awake. It was as if I stood on the edge of a cliff, and Corwen had just asked me to step over with him.
I dreamed I stepped over, plummeted to the breaking ocean and at the last minute arched my body back, back and back, skimmed broken rocks and roiling waves, swooping down and upward again in flight, and then I realized Corwen’s hand was in mine and we flew together up into the blue sky, supported on the air, my element.
I awoke, my heart pounding. Corwen curled around my back, sound asleep. The sheet was no longer between us, and his hand rested low on my hipbone, his fingers pointing into that ticklish spot between belly and groin. Though his hand never moved, I knew the moment he woke. Intent crackled between us.
He nuzzled my neck just below my ear, his breath inflaming my skin. I curved my back against the length of him. What had been soft against my buttocks now became hard, and I pressed against it, hearing a groan escape his lips. I took the hand, still resting against my hip, and massaged it with my own. A flotilla of butterflies circled in my belly. I didn’t know this man, not in this way. It was like being a virgin again. A whole world of discovery waited for me. I hadn’t felt like this with James Mayo.
That delicious ripple of heat that I’d lost when Will interrupted us started in my belly and flushed through me. I heard my own groan sigh out to meet Corwen’s.
I put up a witchlight, so I could see his eyes.
“Ah, Ross.” He nibbled my ear and kissed the hollow at the base of my throat, his fingers on my flesh drawing goose bumps.
I giggled. “Ticklish.”
“Where? No, don’t tell me. Finding out is half the fun.”
He rolled me on to my back and positioned himself between my legs without settling his weight, then dipped his hips toward mine, touching briefly, tantalizingly. I drew my knees up and ran my hands along his arms.
“No preamble, Mr. Corwen? I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“Oh, I think you are.” He kissed my lips lightly. “And instead of preamble we’ll try some afteramble—” He laughed. “Is that even a word? Anyhow, whatever you want to call it, it will be preamble for the next time. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” He paused above me. Time stretched. “Tell me how you feel.”
“Excited. Afraid. I feel . . . empty. I want you inside me.”
I did. I wanted him to fill up my loneliness as I had not wanted anyone since Will. I didn’t only want him to thread the needle beneath the sheets, I needed him to be more than meat and muscle and blood.
“Say it again.” His voice was husky now.
“I want you.”
With an unerring sense of direction he obliged and I thrust my hips up to meet him.
Dawn crept into our room and found us lying in a tangle of sheets, Corwen’s hand comfortably on my breast and my head tucked into his shoulder. Without even opening my eyes I knew Will was standing at the foot of the bed.
“Do you want me to apologize?” I asked him softly, but instead of answering he faded away, silent and sad.
Corwen’s hand tightened on my breast. He was awake again. I was going to ask if he’d seen Will, but what followed next drove the question out of my head and meant that we didn’t get down to breakfast at all that morning.
We were now close enough to London for me to try searching for Philip. I knew him as well as anyone, or I had known him up until seven years ago, when our pathways had parted so suddenly.
Corwen stood and watched me while I arranged myself cross-legged on the bed. I sent out my thoughts on the breeze in search of the older Philip whom I’d seen so briefly in Bideford. I had to be careful that I didn’t summon him. I didn’t want to give away our presence to Walsingham on his home ground.
I concentrated on Philip as I’d last seen him. I thought of the boy that I’d known, mischievous with a sly streak a mile wide. It hadn’t always been cold between us. When his mischief hadn’t been directed at me I’d even found it endearing. We had been allies while Mother was traveling, and our relationship had remained affable for a while even after she returned.
Mother had employed a tutor for Philip, Mr. Burroughs, a gentleman who had fallen on hard times, which had lowered his expectations of employment. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays he came to the house to teach us. His primary task was to stuff Philip’s head with Greek and Latin, philosophy, mathematics, and natural sciences, all in preparation for him being sent away to school. I was only supposed to learn music, drawing, and as much French as would give me an air of sophistication, but in truth I liked Philip’s curriculum better, and our tutor obliged me with further reading.
That had suited Philip, too, for while Mr. Burroughs was discussing the finer points of geometry with me, he was entirely failing to notice that my little brother was doing as little as possible in the schoolroom. He was, however, doing it charmingly.
I put Philip to the forefront of my mind and concentrated hard. I had loved him once.
My head began to ache, and still there was nothing but a blank where Philip should be. At length I looked up at Corwen and shook my head.
“Anything at all?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s a blank.”
“Do you think he’s not in London?”
