Autumn Moon (17 page)

The following morning, Cormack stepped into the shower without waiting for the water to warm, knowing the heater ran on propane and generators. All the staff would have showered before beginning their day, draining the hot water for at least the next hour. Lathering quickly, he scrubbed his chest, gritting his teeth under the frigid spray. Cold as a mountain stream in spring, and still it didn't cool his happy appendage. The damn thing was more eager now that it knew the pleasures it had missed.

Cormack grinned, too grateful to care.

“I'm heading down to check on Mae.” Elen's voice grew louder until she leaned into the open door, then her eyes heated as they landed on him through the glass partition.

Immediately his wolf rose—among other things, but he squelched his instincts to order her to stay. Having been raised by his sisters, two formidable women who had
demanded their independence, he knew to respect Elen's. Men who smothered were never tolerated for long. He needed to give her breathing room, but not without reminding her of important limits.

As her assigned guard, he had that right. As her mate, he demanded it.

“Don't leave the castle until I'm with you,” he pressed. “You are not to be alone with anyone we don't know, do you understand? I don't care if someone's drowning in the river and only you can save them. Find me first. Pendaran may be weak but he's getting stronger by the day—and I don't trust his reach.”

Not a foolish woman, she didn't argue. “I promise not to leave the building without you,” she repeated with diligence. “And I won't be alone with anyone I don't know or trust.”

“Thank you.” Feeling eased, he waited for her to leave, but when she lingered, he asked, “What are you thinking?”

A slow smile turned her lips. “I'm thinking I'm jealous of those bubbles.”

Chuckling, he slid the door open to flick cold spray at her. “Want to join me?”

“Stop,” she yelped. If she were a cat, she might have hissed. “It's freezing.” Jumping out of his range, she announced with playful impudence, “I'm leaving now, just in case you're wondering. I shouldn't be long, and when I return, I'll replace those bubbles with my mouth.”

Her parting words took a moment to register, along with how far down the lathered soap had slid, but when they did . . .

“Elen . . .”
He jumped out of the stall, suds and all, lunging for the outer chamber door, and then craned his head out into the hall. Her impish laughter trailed around the corner. Bare-assed and besotted, he growled, “I warned you not to flirt.”

“That wasn't flirting,” she called back just before she disappeared. “That was another promise.”

*   *   *

Unable to stop smiling, Elen made her way to the first floor, uncaring of the knowing grins she received in return. Never had she been this happy, and she marveled in the day, of life and joy—and a love that swelled her heart to bursting.

The halls of Castell Avon filled with the disjointed sounds of stringed instruments being tuned. Since it was still morning, she wondered at the sound, and then became more curious as she walked through the great hall. A long table made of oak had been pushed against the far wall, freshly polished while the floors were swept.

Audrey, the Wulfling, came dashing around the corner, her face aglow with excitement, while Tesni chased behind. Both came to a halt when they noticed her. Elen cleared her expression, knowing that Tesni had pursued Cormack but failed. The child, thankfully, removed the awkwardness.

“Elen,” Audrey cried, and then launched herself into her arms. “We are having a dance. For Mae. And I get to go. You get to go too. Unlike last time, when we weren't allowed.” Eyes the color of russet leaves sparked with annoyance over the memory.

“Do I?” Elen adjusted the excited bundle in her arms. The power that rose from her equaled this island and came close to Ms. Hafwen's. Without doubt, this child was connected to the Otherworld, and Luc and Rosa had a precocious handful to protect.

“Maybe,” Tesni insisted, her face flushed but lovely, “if you behave.” She offered Elen a polite nod before holding out her arms to retrieve the child.

“No maybe.” Audrey gave her caretaker an adamant frown as she switched holders. “Mama Rosa said I could.” Her bottom lip protruded in an impressive pout. “And Walter is making me chocolate cake with orange frosting.”

The cake was probably for Mae, considering the woman loved chocolate and oranges. And she was the very person Elen had left Cormack to see, a true test of how much she cared, remembering his image in the shower with slippery suds sliding down his stomach as he lathered his chest. Despite the water's temperature, it was a true sacrifice to leave him there and not follow those bubbles with her parting promise.

Wanting to return without delay, Elen asked, “Have you seen Mae?”

“She is in her kitchen,” Tesni offered. “It is good to see her whole again. We are grateful.”

“As am I.” Elen ruffled Audrey's hair in passing, smiling because she felt comfortable doing so. At home she would have withheld the gesture, having seen more than one parent's eyes filled with fear. Yes, she loved this place, and their people, for the simple fact that they trusted her, or rather, recognized that she meant no harm. “I'm sure I'll see you tonight,” Elen said to Audrey. “Will you save me a dance?”

“If you want me to, I will.” Her chest rose and fell with a dramatic sigh. “But only after I dance with Papa, Cadan, Gareth, Teyrnon and Cormack.” Her fingers counted off her potential partners with innocent yet eerie insight, for she had chosen the most powerful ones. “And Porter.”

A grin turned Tesni's lips. “Well, we can't fault her for taste.”

Elen couldn't help but agree. “No, we cannot.”

The castle had two kitchens, one added later on with modern amenities and gas appliances, now bustling with activity as scents rose to tease her stomach, and an original
one toward the back of the main building, built with a central kiln for bread baking and a hearth along the outer wall. The original kitchen was now Mae's domain. Shelves lined the walls filled with herbs and powders kept in glass jars. Boughs of sage, hawthorn and willow lay strewn across a long wooden table, tied with twine to dry. A jar for payments rested on a smaller table by the door.

Mae offered her healing services for free but never her special tonics.

Currently she stirred a concoction in a kettle that hung from the hearth, much like the one Elen kept in her cottage, but larger. Only Mae would return so soon to fire without fear. The scent of ginger rose from the stew, along with mint and a few other herbs she couldn't quite distinguish because of the ginger, but the combination had a soothing effect.

Elen loved Mae's kitchen. It reminded her of childhood, of many afternoons spent learning healing properties of herbs, how to prepare them, and how to apply them. More than a mentor, Mae had been her substitute mother when her own had been consumed by sorrow over losing her mate.

“Elen child, I am surprised to see you this early.” She gestured toward an empty seat by the hearth.

“You cut your hair.” Elen hugged her first, and then brushed her fingertips over the blunt ends, dark but soft, like the pelt of a mink. “I like it.” There was a bald patch behind her ear and above her temple where scars had once been. The style would help it look less patchy while the rest grew in.

“Sit,” Mae ordered as dimples overcame her cheeks, adding softness to her formidable features. “Rest. After the caterwauls we all heard from your room last night, it is a surprise you can walk. I made you a tea to soothe your aches.” She grabbed a mug from a line of hooks and ladled in a portion. “Drink.”

Accepting the mug, she sipped the tonic. Her aches reminded her of the most beautiful night of her life, but she also wanted to enjoy this night just as fully. “What's in this?” It tasted pungent but not unpleasant.

“Ginger, mint, feverfew and juniper,” Mae recited with impatience. “You have the recipe.” A twinkle entered her gaze. “I omitted the black cohosh root.”

Remembering the recipe, Elen looked down at her hands, knowing why Mae had omitted that one herb. “I can't think about that,” she whispered. “I want it too much.” Black cohosh root was good for menstrual cramps and inducing labor, but not good during the early stages of pregnancy.

“Time will tell.” Mae patted her shoulder. “If ever there was a binding, it happened last night. Your mating braid has woven its strings, and it is strong. I can feel it even without your Cormack in the room.”

“Enough about me.” Her oldest friend had just suffered an ordeal and she had come to check on her, not revel in her own joy and selfish wants. “How do you feel?”

“Ah, my apprentice still wants to check on me, does she? And here I thought this was to be a friendly visit. Well, rest your fears. I am ready to have some of what you had last night . . . That is how I feel.”

A light knock sounded. Peeking her head around the corner, Bethan placed rolled bills in the payment jar. When the visitor would linger, Mae shooed her away. “You have grown strong, Elen child. To make these old bones feel whole.”

“It wasn't me,” she professed once again, pausing when another person came to place money in Mae's jar, gold coins this time, offering a grudging nod before leaving. “It's that pool.” A magical pool by a magical tree. “Did you not see—”

“Hold your tongue,” Mae hissed. “Of course I know,” she chastised in a hushed voice, “but do not say its name aloud.
Whispers carry from these walls.” Her hand lifted, no longer gnarled. She held Elen's chin and pinned her with a stern gaze. “Have you forgotten what I taught you? We keep care of our secrets. It is how we survive. Never forget.”

Mae released her when another person came with an offering for the jar.

Unsettled by the warning, Elen changed the subject while visitors came and went. “Your kitchen is busy today. What concoction have you brewed that has caused such high demand?” Last visit she'd learned how to mix poison ivy in soap, an unpleasant contraceptive for female shifters, and one that had the same effect on males in a different manner. Mae titled it: Soft As Worms.

Mirth entered golden eyes. “It was not me doing the brewing last night.”

Cadan, Rosa's cousin, turned the corner next, adding to the tally; a powerful shifter, more graceful than ruthless. With red hair and green eyes, he walked like a wolf who knew others couldn't help but watch. His beauty made him a pawn for Guardian attentions, a bane he used to his advantage if necessary—to protect Rosa. Their bond was as close as siblings', unbreakable even by Math, Rosa's first husband.

“Elen,” Cadan greeted with a grin. “You made our Mae a very wealthy woman last night.” He yawned, not looking too put out, and then winked a farewell before returning to the main hall.

Understanding dawned. “This is about that ridiculous wager, isn't it?”

“You cannot expect me to refuse easy pickings,” Mae cackled. “I knew you would be the first to dip that boy's stick.”

“You bet on
me
winning? For money?” Flustered, Elen shook her head, fanning her face because it suddenly felt
hot. Sweat broke out across her brow. An odd reaction because she held no embarrassment, nor should she; in Mae and Merin's time, friends and family would have been invited to witness their ceremony of love's most divine act. But that was before wolves were melded into their veins and the beast's possessive nature took hold.

Once alone, Mae closed the oaken door, lowering the iron latch that served as a lock. “Elen child,” she said in a tone that turned heavy with torment, “I will wager the blood of my own heart on you winning.”

Elen's flush increased. Her gaze fell to her half-consumed tonic. No, Mae would not do such a vile thing. Almost two thousand years they had known each another, years kindled with memories that had earned her trust. Long before Cormack, Mae had been her only friend when all others had shunned her; more than a friend, a mother, a teacher and a consoler in times of loneliness. It was Mae who'd held her when she wept after her own mother had shoved rods into her spine.

The room suddenly shifted and morphed. Colors blended into an obsidian pool. Suspicion turned to shock. And when her pulse began to race, she knew . . .

“Why?” It fell from her lips as a slur as betrayal wrenched her heart, and then anguish. From a distance she felt her muscles release and the mug fall from her hands; it shattered on the stones of the floor.

Air
, she called, and then,
Fire
. Neither element came to her aid, because her self-will had been drugged and her mind imprisoned. Elements only responded to conviction—not intoxicated entrapment. She tried to scream but knew her desperation went unheard.
No! Please no. Not now! Cormack . . .