Lust Potion For the Alpha Page 10

  “It’s huge!” she gasped. He urged his horse over to stand next to hers.

  “You’re mistress here now,” he told her feeling a surge of pride.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said shaking her head. “If my sister – if my aunt could see this…” She turned to look at Geoffrey. “I see what Geoffrey meant now by calling my father’s house a piddly manor!”

  Geoffrey turned scarlet and then ducked his head as he gave a reluctant chuckle.

  “You like it?” Jorah asked, his voice low, meant only for her. It seemed suddenly important.

  “It’s majestic,” she breathed. “How could I fail to be impressed?”

  At her words he felt a warmth spread in his chest like a balm against his earlier anger. He had a feeling everything would turn out right after all.

  The most overwhelming impression Issy was getting was the sheer size of the place. Even in the failing light she could see Varkash was a huge and sprawling grey stone castle with four towers, one sadly diminished to rubble which must have been the south tower Baris spoke of previously. The tall windows were pointed with lead panes. Some of the panels were illustrated with coloured stained glass but she could not make out their decoration in the gathering gloom. The long approach to the huge front entrance was a path of gravel which was unlit. They had stabled the horses themselves as the groomsmen were nowhere to be seen despite Baris’ repeated shouts. Issy stumbled on the overgrown path and instantly felt Jorah’s steadying arm around her. She smiled up at him gratefully, but he was staring straight ahead at the house which to all intents and purposes looked to be all in darkness. On closer inspection she could see a couple of windows on the top floor had faint lights in them. Jorah’s expression looked foreboding. Isolde just hoped there would be at least one fire lit in the whole place as she was shivering. By the time they had mounted the steps to the huge entrance Baris was hammering on the door and yelling fit to raise the dead. Isolde leant against the wall feeling done in. She felt someone press her hand reassuringly and was surprised to find it was Geoffrey who seemed slightly less shy and sullen now he was on his home turf.

  “Don’t worry my lady,” he murmured . “Someone will be roused presently.”

  “Thank you Geoffrey.”

  She was grateful for his words as Jorah, unwilling to stand around waiting had now taken off on an inspection of the windows on the ground floor, peering through them in the dark and testing their strength. She sighed as Baris started cursing and swearing up a storm.

  “There’s a lady present,” Alfric reminded him tersely.

  Baris swivelled round to look at her before commencing pounding on the door with his mighty fists once more.

  “Who will be home?” she murmured to Alfric. “Do you have a housekeeper?”

  “I hardly know after three years, my lady,” he confessed. “I’m afraid this is a cold homecoming for you. Jorah will not be pleased.”

  “It little signifies,” she answered. “We were not expected after all.”

  Alfric frowned.

  “I did send word a couple of months ago before our discharge, but only Baris seems to have minded it.”

  Isolde hardly dared imagine a household where Baris was the most obedient member. She wanted to ask if the servants would be pack members too but didn’t want to cause offence.

  “Hark!” exclaimed Baris. “Someone moves within.”

  “At last,” burst forth Geoffrey. “I’ll go and fetch his lordship.” He ran off into the darkness like a hare.

  Isolde could hear nothing but trusted her companion’s ears were rather more sensitive than her own. Finally she could hear the loosening of bolts and one of the two massive doors opened back a creak.

  “Who’s there? Declare yourself?”

  “It’s Lord and Lady Mallon-Garth and their companions , Varkash pack members all,” answered Alfric in ringing tones, elbowing Baris aside.

  The door widened and a woman’s head peered out.

  “You weren’t expected!” she exclaimed.

  “Evidently!” answered Jorah coming up the steps behind them. “Let us in!”

  Isolde could see the interior of the Keep was hardly more inviting than the outside. The only light came from the lantern the female servant held aloft. She must have recognised Jorah, or at least the voice of authority for she fell back and let them troop through.

  “Where is everyone?” demanded Jorah. “Are you housekeeper here?”

  “No sir,” she bobbed a curtsey. “My name is Matilda, I am a house maid here at Varkash.”

  The woman had a great deal of composure Issy realised as she was neither babbling nor panicking at the unexpected return of the family.

  “Who is housekeeper now?” asked Jorah narrowly. “Is it still Reynolds?”

  “No sir. Mrs Reynolds up and left two years ago. It’s Miss Bronwen now.”

  “Bronwen?” he frowned.

  “As was your mother’s companion, your lordship.”

  “I remember,” he didn’t sound pleased. “And where is Miss Bronwen?”

  “I knocked on her door before I came down,” answered Matilda. “She said she would not come down at this hour.”

  “I’ll fetch her,” said Geoffrey with relish as he ran for the stairs. Matilda stared after him.

  She muttered something under her breath and Isolde thought she said ‘I can’t believe how much he’s grown’, but she could have been wrong. Baris murmured something about lighting a fire in the great hall and disappeared into the shadows.

  “We need a fire lit in the master bedroom and hot water for a bath for Lady Mallon-Garth,” said Alfric. “Have we servants enough for this?”

  “Please sir, begging your pardon but there’s only me ,” answered Matilda smartly.

  “Only you?” answered Jorah incredulously. He shot a look at his beta.

  “We have a kitchen maid too but she lives out not in.”

  “One housekeeper, one kitchen maid, one house maid,” repeated Alfric taking stock.

  “There’s also two groomsmen and three groundsmen.”

  “That many?” asked Jorah dryly. “Where’s the rest of the pack?”

  “I told you,” called out Baris from the dark, it sounded like he was heaving logs into a grate. “They’ve all scattered to the four winds.”

  “This is all that’s left?” asked Jorah sounding shocked.

  “As you see, my lord.”

  Jorah gave a bitten off exclamation before he too strode off into the dark in search of his brother.

  “This way my lady,” said Alfric taking her arm. “Matilda please bring the lamp I wish to take Lady Mallon-Garth into the main hall.”

  She followed Alfric from the wide hallway across the corridor and then into a huge wooden panelled Great Hall. She could barely make out the interior as it was so dark, but Matilda set the lantern down on what looked to be a huge banqueting table in the centre of the room. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she thought she could make out suits of armour and large portraits adorning the walls, and possibly another staircase leading up to a gallery above them. Alfric led her to a wooden bench lined with cushions then pressed her on the shoulder to let her know he wanted her to be seated. She sank down gratefully into their yielding softness. Suddenly hands were tugging at her boots and she realised Matilda was swiftly untying her footwear although thankfully she left her, her cloak.

  “Thank you Matilda” she smiled.

  The maid looked up at her and for a second Isolde would have sworn she saw pity in her eyes.

  “I’ll see if I can fix you something to eat from the kitchen my lady,” she murmured. “There’s some cold beef and mustard.”

  “That would be fine,” Issy assured her. “Can I help? I understand we weren’t expected…”

  At this moment a tall, tempestuous red-head burst into the great hall.

  “I can hardly believe it!” she announced striding into the hall. “Why did you not warn us? We could have
had a proper welcome for you all!” She ran to Jorah and embraced him hurriedly before launching herself at Baris.

  “I should be angry with you,” she told him coquestishly. “Thanks to your defection both Ailynn and Edyth left to join the Canagan pack.”

  “What’s it to do with me?” he asked shrugging her off.

  She pouted before turning to Alfric with a smile and a small curtsey.

  “Alfric, you are welcome back also,” she said hesitantly as if less sure of her ground.

  He nodded at her coolly,

  “We’ve brought Jorah’s bride home.” He gestured to Isolde. “Lady Isolde, this is Bronwen, a member of the Varkash pack and apparently acting housekeeper.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Bronwen.”

  Bronwen frowned and opened her mouth before closing it again.

  “Bride is it?” she asked archly casting a look over her shoulder at Jorah.

  “Aye,” he answered coming forward with a quelling glance. “Any reason why you’re not giving your curtsey to my wife, wench?” he asked.

  She coloured slightly and dropped into a graceful curtsey.

  “You are most welcome at Varkash, my lady,” she murmured, looking up through her lashes at Baris who was staring moodily at the fire now roaring in the hearth.

  During the next hour Matilda and Geoffrey rallied to bring meat and ale to the returning party. Bronwen hung about throwing leading remarks at Baris which were met with monosyllabic replies. Jorah and Alfric kept firing questions at Bronwen about pack members and the estate which she answered as best as she could but none of which seemed to please them. Isolde smothered her yawns as the heat from the fireplace slowly seeped into her bones. She slipped in and out of a doze, unable to help herself. The conversation about people and places she had never heard of didn’t do much by way of stimulation. She thought fleetingly of her father’s house. No doubt Aunt Enid and Mirrie would be sat in the solar speculating on her progress back to the North. She would start a letter to them tomorrow she thought … letting them know she had arrived safely at her new home. Her eyelids drifted closed again and she slipped down an inch into the cushions. Alfric had tucked a blanket around her after she had finished her supper. She liked Alfric, she realised. Somewhere along the way he had turned from critic to her ally. And Geoffrey too… he was a sweet boy, if a little surly. It was good she already had at least two friends at Varkash. It was a start. She drifted off and only jolted back awake when she heard an angry exclamation. Her eyes flew open and she realised at once that it was later, at least a couple of hours had passed. The fire had died down in the hearth and was now a mere glow. Some instinct kept her still where she lay. She could see Baris’s massive outline by the firelight. Only he and Bronwen were left in the room with her. It looked like they had exchanged words as Bronwen placed a hand on his arm only for him to shake it off.

  “Why so stand-offish?” she asked mockingly. “Your vow must have passed by now. It’s not like you to remain a celibate.”

  “My vow is none of your business Bronwen. We’ve never been anything to each other but pack members. You know that. And it seems your designs on Jorah have come to nothing.” He gave a harsh laugh. “He’s quite taken with his plump little human.”

  “Her?” Bronwen snorted. “She’s no mate.” She tossed her mane of red hair. “She’s just his little pet.”

  “Watch your mouth,” growled Baris. “Unless you want to be tossed out on your ear.”

  Isolde heard footsteps entering the room and realised it was Jorah and Alfric returning. Baris and Bronwen sprang guiltily apart. Isolde kept quiet as strong arms gathered her up. Jorah.

  “The master bedroom’s not fit for occupancy,” said her husband tersely as he swung her up and made for the door. “We’re taking your room Baris.”

  His brother snorted.

  “Help yourself.”

  “I intend to,” answered Jorah arrogantly as he started up the stairs. They were vast and curving and the walls were lined with many family portraits and old hanging shields and banners. Wolves heads figured prominently in their heraldry and coats of arms she noticed, peeping out from under her lashes. Well, that makes sense!

  “I know you’re awake, wife” he murmured as he mounted the steps.

  She stole a look up at him. It was hard to see in the dim light of the staircase.

  “How could you tell?”

  He smirked at her.

  “I can always tell. Hear anything interesting?”

  She blushed.

  “Not really. Where have you been?”

  “Trying to find us a habitable room,” he growled. “The place is a wreck. You’re going to have your work cut out. I know that much.”

  Issy shrugged.

  “I’ll take that challenge,” she replied. “I’ve been running my father’s house for years.”

  “You have?”

  She nodded then realised he couldn’t see her in the dark. He really hadn’t bothered discussing her accomplishments with her father she thought with sudden unease. The potion must have driven all rational thought from his mind!

  “Since I was fourteen.”

  “Well, between the two of us we’ll get it whipped into shape.” He said grimly.

  “Of course,” she told him as he nudged open the door to a first floor bedroom.

  “Gods knows why she kept Baris’ room in order and not any of those on the top floor.”

  Issy thought she might know why, but she kept her silence.

  “Where will Baris sleep?”

  “There’s plenty of rooms on the first floor. This is just the biggest.”

  “Oh.”

  When he set her down she realised there was a steaming bath in front of the merrily lit fire. She let out a grateful cry.

  “A bath! You have been busy.”

  “Mmmm,” he agreed. “There are warming pans in the bed too.”

  She sighed as he immediately set to unfastening her gown. Unlike the night before he didn’t tear or tug at the stays, but instead deftly unfastened them, stripping off her layers and throwing them onto a nearby chair until she was stood completely naked. Then he led her to the bath and she stepped into the fragrant water and sank down with a happy sigh. She watched through half closed eyes as he unfastened her braids and ran his fingers through them.

  “Do you want to wash your hair?” he asked softly.

  “Yes.” She hesitated watching his absorbed face. “You’re good at this.”

  “You think I missed my calling?”

  She laughed realising he was joking with her and then sighed again as he massaged her scalp. His big hands were comforting, reverent even. He soaped her up and then ran the cloth all over her hills and valleys but didn’t linger anywhere even though she felt herself blush when her nipples hardened or his hand dipped between her legs.

  “Tired?” he asked as he washed the last traces of soap from her hair, flipping the tresses over the side of the bath.

  “I can hardly keep my eyes open,” she admitted as he left her side briefly to return with a large cloth to dry her off. He lifted her out and then set her down in front of the fire, enveloping her and then rubbing her down. She closed her eyes and let him take care of her, feeling cherished.

  “Into the bed,” he murmured against her hair as he squeezed the last drops of moisture from its length. He turned back the cover as she clambered in and then drew it over her.

  “Aren’t you coming to bed?” she asked when he didn’t immediately follow her under the covers.

  “I need a wash,” he said, already shucking off his tunic. “I won’t be long.” She yawned and heard the soft splash of water as he stepped into the bath. She meant to sneak a look at him over the top of the covers just as soon as she’d rested her eyelids a moment, but they grew so heavy the forty winks stretched on until she felt the bed dip as he joined her in it. He drew her into the circle of his arms and kissed her cheek softly. Her sleepy smile turned briefly to a frown a
s she heard Bronwen’s words ‘She’s only a pet’ echo through her mind. Was that all she was to him? As if sensing her disquiet, he tucked her more firmly against his big warm body and rested a hand over her stomach. She stilled at once, comforted by his closeness. Immediately she fell into a deep, restful sleep.

  A loud heavy crash some hours later tore her suddenly from sleep’s clutches. Immediately she felt Jorah roll away from her with a muffled oath and surge to his feet, moving towards the source of the noise which appeared to be a stooped slight figure in their bedroom doorway. Issy sat upright, rubbing her eyes and trying to get her bearings. Jorah had seized their intruder and slammed him against the frame with a thud.

  “What the hells-?” protested a slightly slurred voice. “Who’re you? Why are you in my room?”

  “Ran?” demanded Jorah’s voice furiously. “Is that you? You bloody young fool!”

  “Jorah?” The younger male slumped suddenly. “Don’t shake me like that I’ve had a skinful!”

  “You’re drunk as a skunk!” said Jorah in disgust.

  “What of it?” asked the other belligerently. “You’re not m’father! First I’ve seen of you in three years!”

  “Get out and find another room!” ordered Jorah angrily. “I’ll speak with you in the morning.”

  Isolde clutched the sheets up to her chin as the other male peered around her husband suddenly.

  “Who’s that in the bed with you?” he asked with sudden interest. “She smells delicious!”

  “Ran!” Jorah grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and propelled him from the room with a growl as Issy watched with astonishment.

  “Who was that?” she asked five minutes later when Jorah reappeared and slammed their door shut. He fetched a chair and wedged it under the handle.

  “My youngest brother. Ranulf. You’ll receive a proper introduction in the morrow. And an apology,” he added darkly.

  Issy lay in the dark worrying about what Ran had said about her smell. Could the potion still be working its magic on Jorah, even now? She chewed her lip.

  “Did he scare you?” asked Jorah drawing her into his side again. He stroked his hand up and down her side, a soothing action at first but then more of a caress of her dips and hollows.