Highland Wolf Pact (9 page)

“Massage her like this.” Sibyl showed the old woman, who frowned but did as she was told. Raife stood over them, watching, as Kirstin poured the hot herb water into a tin cup.

“Somethin’s firmin’ in ’er,” Beitris observed, glancing between Laina’s legs. “I think the blood is ebbin’.”

“Yes.” Sibyl blew on the surface of the cup, smelling the goldenrod and shepherd’s purse. It was enough to make her want to gag. “Kirstin, help sit her up a little.”

Darrow did it instead, taking the baby off its mother’s breast to do so. Kirstin took the baby, who wailed at being taken away from his mother, but Sibyl had to get the concoction down the woman’s throat. Laina moaned but swallowed, her eyes half-opening, focused for a moment on Sibyl, then on her husband. There was a recognition in those eyes that gave Sibyl hope. Laina knew where she was, who she was, who this man was to her. She was still here on this side of the veil then.

“Thank ye.” Darrow choked out the words as they put Laina back down on the mattress. It was ruined, soaked in blood, and Sibyl wondered how someone could lose so much and still be breathing. It was a miracle. “Tis the second time ye’ve saved ’er life.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Sibyl looked up at Kirstin who was holding the crying child in her arms. “Keep that baby nursing as much as possible.”

“He seems to have a great appetite,” Raife observed as Kirstin knelt to put him back at Laina’s breast. “He’s yer son, wit’out a doubt, brother.”

Raife’s hand fell to Darrow’s shoulder and Sibyl saw tears brimming in the younger brother’s eyes as his own hand covered Raife’s larger one.

“And keep her drinking this,” Sibyl instructed, pointing to the pot of boiling herbs. “All night long.”

“I’ll stay awake wit’er,” Darrow assured her as Sibyl stood. “Thank ye again.”

“I’m right next door if you need me.” Sibyl didn’t want to go, but the immediate danger had passed, and Raife insisted. He barked orders, telling the old midwife and Kirstin to clean Laina up, Darrow to get men to dispose of the old mattress and retrieve a new one.

Then Raife walked her to the room next door where he turned her to him, his big hands on her shoulders. He made her feel so small in stature in his presence, but she never felt small within. That was likely what made him a leader, she realized—man, wolf or wulver.

“I’ve never seen anythin’ like that afore,” Raife said softly, glancing down the hall where men carried out the bloody mattress. “I’m so glad ye were here. We would’na’ve known what t’do.”

Sibyl just nodded. She didn’t know what to say to that.

“Tis why wulvers change when they birth.” Raife’s eyes hardened. “Females can’na change back while puppin’. Wulvers do’na experience the same dangers as humans durin’ birth. Tis a blessin’ and a curse.”

“I don’t understand.” Sibyl frowned, opening the door to her room as two men moved in behind them, carrying a clean mattress for Laina, making more room for them in the tunnel hallway.

“Lilith’s curse.” Raife stood in the doorway, filling it with his big frame, not coming in, although she moved into the room to sit on the edge of the bed. She thought she had been exhausted before. Now she was dead-tired. “The first wulver was the daughter of Lilith.”

“Adam’s first wife?” She cocked her head at him. “From the Bible?”

“The same,” he agreed. “Humans descended from Eve. Wulvers descended from Lilith.”

Sibyl considered this new information, trying to absorb it.

“Lilith was a’cursed by God t’give birth t’demons,” Raife explained softly, reminding Sibyl of the old Biblical story. She was far more familiar with the story of Adam and Eve, of course—that was the story of her own ancestors, of an evil, wanton woman who tempted her mate into wickedness—but occasionally Lilith was mentioned in church as God’s first, failed attempt at creating woman. It seemed her gender was difficult to get just right.

“We’re those demon descendants,” Raife told her. “Half-human, half-wolf. We live in the borderland between worlds. Sibyl? Are ye a’right?”

She felt faint again at his words, although she told herself she was not, under any circumstances, going to faint. Not again. But her eyes closed and the world spun anyway.

“Sibyl?” Raife was close to her now, squatting next to the bed, holding her up.

“It’s been a long day.” She opened her eyes and half-smiled at him. “It’s a lot to take in all at once. Wulvers… half-human, half-wolf. The… descendants of Lilith, you say?”

“Aye.” He brushed hair away from her face, smiling softly. “Ye should sleep, lass. Ye worked hard dis day.”

“So did you.” She cocked her head at him. “And Laina. Poor thing. She worked hardest of all.”

“Wulver females ain’t like human women.” Raife spoke the obvious, but his face was pale, his eyes betraying him, showing fear he clearly had never experienced in the same way before. “They’re cursed, but different.”

“Eve and her descendants were cursed with the pain of childbirth.” Sibyl sighed, lamenting her own women’s curse, remembering the women she’d seen die birthing their young. “Always afraid of pain and death.”

“Aye.” Raife’s eyes clouded. “But Lilith was a’cursed as the bearer of demon seed. “

“Demons… are you demons then?” she murmured, frowning at the thought. She’d seen drawn depictions of demons with horns and red skin. These wulvers, whatever they were, did not appear evil, or even unnatural. Although, in their human form, the way Raife appeared in front of her now, they seemed extra-human, as if they’d been taken directly from the pages of some ancient text.

“We are what we are.” Raife sighed. “Some of us accept that better’n others.”

“Darrow…?” She met his eyes, questioning. There was something in Raife’s tone that made her think of his brother and Raife nodded sadly.

“Darrow and Laina, too.” He glanced toward the door, as if his brother might be standing there, listening to what he had to say. “They believe they can change the way we are. But we’ve always been this way and always will be.”

“Change…?” Sibyl frowned. “How?”

“Tis a silly legend.” Raife waved the idea away. “Chasin’ rainbows. There’s supposed to be a plant that can keep wulvers from changin’ into wolves. The huluppa tree.”

“The… that’s… a type of willow, isn’t it?” Sibyl remembered it from her teachings with the healer and her father. They had taught her to read and identify all the names of the plants.

“They’ve gone out, searchin’ the woods fer it,” Raife said, his eyes hardening at the thought. “That’s where they were when she was caught. I told ’im she should’na be out, so close t’pup.”

“It is supposed to keep you from changing?” Sibyl tried to remember everything she knew about the huluppa. It was just another variation of willow, although it wasn’t anywhere near as abundant as some of the others. “Willow… willow is a pain reliever. But it keeps the blood from clotting!”

Sibyl sat straight up, eyes wide.

“Was she eating the willow?” Sibyl gasped. “That explains why she was bleeding so much!”

“And it did’na even work.” Raife scoffed, shaking his dark head. “She still changed.”

“I wonder…” Sibyl considered the possibilities. Could a plant really stop a wulver’s transformation, like barley stopped burns or buckbean killed intestinal worms?

“I know Laina thinks tis unfair. And she’s reason to fear the change. Males can change at will,” Raife explained. “Females… they have no choice. They change when they pup. They change when they go into heat.”

“Heat?” Sibyl cocked her head, trying to work out what he was saying, and then she understood, feeling her own cheeks filling with heat.

“Moon blood…?” he explained, smiling at the way her cheeks pinked up.

“Menses.” Sibyl blushed even brighter, saying the word in a man’s presence. Even she knew you didn’t talk about such things in front of menfolk. But she couldn’t help thinking about Laina—poor Laina. She was tied more to her body and its cycles than Sibyl had ever thought about being. And here she’d believed
she
was limited by her gender!

“I will look for this willow before I am on my way,” Sibyl decided with sudden determination. She would help Laina and her kind, if she could. It would be good to liberate the wulver woman from her gender’s prison, even if she couldn’t change her own.

“Ye’ll go t’sleep and we’ll talk more on th’morrow.” Raife was giving orders again. He stood, an imposing figure in his plaid, thick arms crossed over his broad chest.

“I will find it.” Sibyl’s chin stuck out in defiance, more determined than ever.

“I b’lieve ye.” He chuckled, turning to go. “Thank ye for what ye did fer her. She’s as much like a sister to me as Darrow’s brother.”

“And Kirstin?” Sibyl’s cheeks reddened when Raife hesitated at the doorway to turn and look at her. She didn’t know why she’d asked, but the words had escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

“Kirstin?” Raife smiled, looking amused. “What about ’er, lass?”

“I just… noticed the way she looked at you.” Sibyl squirmed on the bed, feeling his gaze pinned on her. She couldn’t help but notice the way Kirstin looked at him, like he was some sort of a god, or God himself. Not that she blamed the girl, not in the least.

“And what way’s that?”

“The way a woman… looks at a man… who…” she stammered.

Oh damn him, she thought, unable to get the rest of the words out.

“I’ve no mate, Sibyl,” he told her, his words soft but clear, those blue, blue eyes trained right on her, seeing into her, into parts and places she had yet to even explore herself. “There’s no woman or wulver who’s been marked by me.”

Marked.
She wanted to know what that meant, but she was afraid to ask.

“G’nite, lass.” He moved to close the door but Sibyl stopped him once again with her words.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“I’ll be right outside,” he assured her, smiling around the door’s edge.

“In that drafty tunnel hallway?” She frowned, glancing around the big room, noting a thick lamb’s wool rug by the fire. It would do nicely. Besides, even if she was a little afraid of him, she was more afraid of what was out there, beyond the closed door. She thought she might actually feel safer with him here, in the room. “No. Sleep here. I insist.”

“Here?” His eyebrows went up when he looked at her and Sibyl swallowed at the heat in his gaze. “Wit’ ye?”

“Oh, I mean…” She blinked, biting her lip. “You can sleep by the fire. Or have another mattress brought in…”

“Yer reputation will’na survive ’til mornin’, lass,” Raife said softly. The look in his eyes warmed her from head to toe and she tried to ignore her body’s response.

“My reputation?” Sibyl gave a short, strangled laugh. The memory of Alistair and her uncle and their concern for her reputation seemed very far away in this strange place. “I don’t care about my reputation any longer.”

“Ye’ll,” he assured her with a short nod. “If ye want to return to yer world.”

If. Not when, if. As if it was a question. And was it? She wondered. She wouldn’t have thought twice about it a few hours ago, would have jumped on the first horse she could find and rode hell-bent on getting away from this place, away from Scotland, away. Away.

But she had been so focused on running away, she hadn’t considered where she might be running to.

“I’ll be right outside,” he told her again, once more pulling at the door.

And Sibyl interrupted him yet again.

“This is silly!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in helpless desperation. “This room is big, there’s a fire. You can’t sleep in the hallway. You’ll catch your death!”

“No.” His gaze didn’t move from her face, his eyes saying so much, his mouth so little. “I can’na sleep in ’ere.”

“Why not?” she protested.

“Because…” He hesitated just a moment before finishing his sentence. “I can’na trust myself around ye.”

“Trust yourself…” She laughed again, she couldn’t help it. “To do what? Not eat me?”

He smiled back at her, but there was no humor in it. In fact, the look in his eyes told her he was far from joking. Everything about him bespoke of the seriousness of his words, even though they might have been spoken in jest.

“That’s na’what I’m hungry fer when I look at ye, lass.”

Sibyl couldn’t answer that. There weren’t words. She felt the heat of his gaze on her body as if he had touched her with his admission, as if he’d undressed her in an instant and had his way with her. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think.

He seemed to understand her sudden silence. That understanding was in his gaze as he dropped it to the floor and murmured, “G’nite,” for one final time before he pulled the door closed.

It felt as if no time had passed at all when Kirstin knocked and entered her room in the morning. Maybe it was because it was still dark—there were no windows here, no sunlight streamed in to tickle her nose. Sibyl was still bone-tired but she got up, knowing she had a long way to walk today. And the next. And the day after that. She had no idea how long it was going to take to get back to Rose’s village, but however long it took her, she was going to have to stay off the roads, avoid Alistair’s men, and somehow stay dry, warm and fed.

Had Raife meant it when he said he would escort her wherever she wanted to go? There were no horses here, but if she could travel on a wolf, or even with one, she would feel far safer. The thought of traveling with him made her feel warm, even in spite of the room’s early morning chill.

“G’mornin!” Kirstin called out, smiling as she put a tray onto the table.

“Good morning.” Sibyl stretched and yawned and ventured out, stomach clenching in hunger the moment she smelled the food.

There was a bowl full of something like porridge, a few slices of bread, some soft cheese, and a tin cup of milk. She sat at the table, spooning in delicious mouthfuls of porridge—there was dried fruit, seeds and nuts in it—as Kirstin stoked the fire. It had died down to embers overnight.

“Ye can wear these while yer here.” Kirstin held up the plaid and leather belt Sibyl had taken off the night before, the same one she’d worn to tend Laina. “We’re doin’ our best t’wash and mend yer dress.”

“Thank you.” Sibyl made a face just thinking about that green velvet dress. “How is Laina this morning?”

“Better, thanks t’ye.” Kirstin smiled her gratitude.

Sibyl let the girl dress her. She would have insisted on doing it herself, but she wasn’t familiar with how it all worked. The plaid had loops the belt went through, and then the belt cinched at her waist, over the shirt she’d worn to bed. It was all very convenient, she thought, as Kirstin arranged the plaid fabric over her shoulder, tucking it back into the belt.

“I feel naked,” Sibyl murmured, glancing down at her bare legs and feet. She touched her long, uncovered hair. She wasn’t used to going around without some sort of head covering. It was common in Scotland, she’d noticed, but English ladies didn’t go out without a hat. Kirstin had taken her corset along with her dress, and Sibyl discovered she could take a full breath for the first time in months. She hadn’t felt this free in a long time.

“Ye look lovely.” Kirstin combed Sibyl’s hair as she finished eating her porridge and drank her milk. It was goat’s milk, rich and delicious. “Are ye sure ye don’na have Scots blood in ye? Yer hair’s as red as a rooster’s crown!”

“Mayhaps, somewhere back in my family tree.” Sibyl smiled. “Although my mother would faint if she heard me say it.”

She didn’t like thinking about her mother. Or her home. She didn’t have a home anymore, not really. Whatever connection she might have maintained between herself and the place she’d grown up had disappeared the moment she’d decided to run away. Whatever her life had been before, it would never be again.

“My dress will be ready soon?” Sibyl looked at her hopefully. Even if she didn’t wear it, she realized she could sell it for the cloth alone and pay for food for her trip, if she could find a buyer. She tried to remember the places they had passed on their journey over the border, if there had been anywhere promising she might sell a velvet gown.

“I had ’em take it out into the sun t’dry.” Kirstin put more wood on the fire. The room had grown cool overnight and she wondered if they had to keep a fire going all day, even in the summer. The mountain retained the cold and Sibyl wasn’t used to being bare-legged. She was actually shivering.

“Sun?” Sibyl cocked her head as she tied her soft-soled shoes, wishing she had a pair of riding boots instead. “Outside?”

“A’course outside.” Kirstin laughed, taking Sibyl’s tray and heading toward the door. “Raife was askin’ after ye. Would ye like me t’take ye t’im?”

Sibyl nodded, standing and following Kirstin out of the room. It was time to go, she decided, with or without an escort. She didn’t know if Raife had been serious about taking her wherever she wanted, but she wouldn’t turn down his offer, if he made it again.

They made their way through the tunnels and Sibyl kept as close to Kirstin as she could. They passed people, men and women all dressed in plaid, and a few wolves too, which made her shrink instinctively toward the cool tunnel walls.

“They will’na hurt ye,” Kirstin assured her as they traveled deeper into the mountain. “Raife has guaranteed yer safety.”

“I’m not so sure Darrow is going to listen to him,” Sibyl muttered, remembering how Raife’s brother had glared at her and argued with him, even if she had helped his wife the night before. Darrow didn’t like her presence, didn’t want her there.

“Raife leads our pack,” Kirstin informed her. “Even if Darrow does’na like it, he’ll follow. He must.”

It didn’t surprise Sibyl in the least that Raife was their leader.

“So you…” Sibyl cleared her throat, thinking of how to phrase the question as they went through the busy dining hall. There were people still sitting at long tables, talking in Gaelic, laughing together, eating breakfast. “Raife mentioned that you don’t… eat… people?”

“Not for a verra long time. Tis against the pact,” Kirstin said as they passed through the kitchen. “We jus’ wanna live peaceful here.”

“And all the swords?” Sibyl eyed a rack of them, literally hundreds of blades, as they passed into a tunnel. If these men were peaceful, their weaponry told a different story.

“Our men are trained as warriors, tis true.” Kirstin shrugged as they neared the end of the tunnel. There was sunlight there, at the end of the darkness. “But they do’na fight unless they have ta.”

The sun was welcome and Sibyl turned her face up to it, breathing in the cool mountain air. There were women washing clothes to the right, standing barefoot in a stream. The valley they entered was covered in green, spotted with the purple of heather, and in the middle of it all was a sight that made Sibyl gasp aloud.

“Have ye not seen the warriors?” Kirstin glanced back in surprise at Sibyl as she shrank toward the opening in the side of the mountain, but she couldn’t have been any more surprised than Sibyl was herself.

I’m not going to faint again,
Sibyl told herself, leaning against the solid rock, the world tilting sideways as she watched the half-men, half-wolves wielding their swords against each other in the early morning sunlight, the sound of steel against steel ringing over the mountain. As strange a sight as it was, Sibyl spotted Raife instantly, his long, dark hair trailing behind him in waves as he half growled, half roared and leapt completely over his opponent.

She didn’t know how she recognized him, because his face wasn’t his own—his snout was long, his canine teeth sharp as he snarled and swung his sword behind him to catch and stop the other half-wolf’s blow. But she did. She knew him instantly.

Her heart stopped, her knees wobbled, hands trembling as she brought them to her quivering mouth. The big half-wolf—he seemed twice his human size to Sibyl from here—sniffed the air, eyes flashing and ears twitching as those blue eyes turned their way.

He was a wolf from the neck up, but his body was the same—broad, tanned chest, ridged abdomen, the muscles in his back taut as he kept his opponent’s sword at bay. Raife’s heavily muscled thighs bulged as he twisted and avoided the swing of the other wolf-man’s weapon. The sound of steel striking rock rang through the valley and Sibyl gasped as Raife gave a low, keening howl, shaking his head quickly from side to side.

One moment he was a wolf—half a wolf, at any rate—and the next he was changed back to a man, tossing his heavy sword aside with a scowl as he approached. The other wolf-man did the same, and she saw that Raife had been fighting with his brother, Darrow.

“I told ye to come get me when she woke,” Raife snapped at Kirstin.

“Did ye?” She blinked at him and Sibyl sensed something pass between them. Clearly Kirstin had defied his wishes. “She wanted to come outside. Didn’t ye, Lady Sibyl?”

“I did ask,” Sibyl admitted, blinking at him in surprise. “I thought, mayhaps, I should go soon…?”

“I must speak wit ye.” Raife gave a slow nod, glancing at Kirstin, eyes narrowing briefly.

He held out his hand to Sibyl and she hesitated only a moment before taking it. She tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks as she did so, letting him help her over the rocks, trying to ignore the eyes on them as Raife led her away from the mountain. The women doing wash watched them, whispering behind their hands. Kirstin had gone over to join them and Sibyl knew the girl must be telling them all about their strange human interloper and her odd ways.

She’d expected to be a stranger in a strange land when her uncle had informed her she would be a Scotsman’s English bride, but she had never expected anything like this.

They walked down the sloping hill and up another. There were no more rocks to clamber over, but Raife didn’t let go of his steadying hand as they made their way over the crest. When Sibyl looked back, she noticed they were out of the line of sight of the rest of the pack, although she could hear the women singing and the ring of steel as swords began clashing again.

“Did we scare ye?” Raife asked, glancing down at her.

“No.” She was lying, but just a little. She had started to get used to this world, as strange as it was. “I don’t scare easily.”

“Tis true.” He smiled, stopping as they neared a tree, leaning against the trunk to look down at her. He still held her hand in his, thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles. “Ye’re a brave lil lass.”

“Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?” She swallowed, looking up, way up, into his observant blue eyes.

“I’ve some bad news for ye.” He glanced back the way they’d come, brow knitted, jaw working. “I sent scouts out early, before dawn. I’m afraid…”

“He’s looking for me.” She knew it was true. Of course it was. Alistair wasn’t going to give up that easy.

“I can’na let ye go.” Raife’s hand swallowed hers. “Til I’m sure tis safe.”

“Raife…” She blinked up at him, feeling strange in her Scot’s plaid, especially the way he looked at her in it. This was not her home, these were not her people. “I cannot stay here. I must be away.”

“Where’ll ye go?” He reached out to brush a stray strand of auburn hair away from her cheek, looking concerned. “Is there someone waitin’ for ye, lass?”

Their eyes met and she knew he was thinking about Alistair. So was she. Her betrothed would certainly be looking for her, although he wouldn’t want to marry her, not anymore. Or mayhaps he would, still—only to make her life a living hell. That would be more Alistair’s predilection and if the thought of being married to him had repelled her before, it terrified her now. She could never allow herself to be brought before him again, in any capacity.

“I’d keep ye safe.” Raife’s eyes were so expressive and his heart was in them. “If… if there’s no one who already has claim on ye.”

She hesitated, considering his words. She knew what he was asking and was afraid to answer him, to tell him the truth. He knew she’d been promised to Alistair—but he also knew she didn’t want that marriage. She had run away from it, straight into this man’s world, but in her rush to escape, she hadn’t thought past her immediate future. She couldn’t go home to England, not to her mother and her uncle. She knew she would never see them again, after what she had done.

She wasn’t just an interloper, an Englishwoman in Scotland, she was now a human in a world full of strange creatures, forever a stranger in a strange land, unwelcome. She had no home, not anymore, and never would again, she realized with a slow, dawning horror. She would spend the rest of her life hiding—what did it matter, then, where she did so?

“No,” Sibyl said softly, swallowing hard. “There is no one.”

“Then stay.” He took her other hand in his, so he was holding them both.

She glanced down at them, and then up into those impossibly blue eyes. She was thinking about Laina and her baby and the change that came over the she-wolf, unbidden, putting her into sudden, grave danger in a world that didn’t understand her kind. She thought of God’s curses and didn’t doubt for a moment that he was a man like Alistair, someone who craved power but never did anything to earn it. She’d been raised a good Christian, a good girl, and where had that gotten her?

Sold into matrimonial slavery to a stranger, that’s where.

Sibyl felt the rough callouses on Raife’s hands, looked up at the kindness in his eyes, and thought she could stay here. She could, at least for a while. Mayhaps she could be of some use in this place. She might even stumble across the plant that could change all of their lives, relieve them of the curse of living this way, hidden in the side of a mountain.

Maybe they could help each other, Sibyl thought, meeting Raife’s kind, searching eyes.

And maybe, she realized, they weren’t that different after all.

“Ye’re welcome ’ere, ye ken?” Raife rubbed his thumbs over Sibyl’s knuckles, looking down at her hands in his.

“Thank you.” She couldn’t express her gratitude to him, not really.

How strange it was, to be grateful to be welcomed in a place no human even knew existed.