Wild Things (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance): Shifter Lovers Romance Page 6

  “I would never betray your trust, girl…you know that. But you had to know this was not a game…how dangerous this is.”

  Senna sank back onto the bed. “Because I wanted to have a story, like you, and now I do. And I wanted to be able to share that with someone before…before I could not.” Tears pricked her eyelids. “I wanted a story to tell our children.”

  Anacelia’s eyes went wide. “You are not with child?”

  Senna stared at the older woman. “I don’t know. How would I know?”

  “Oh, Senna. This is why you just don’t follow your impulses. Even with Bakri…we did wait until we were married, you know.” She sat on the bed and took Senna’s hand in hers. “Have you missed your moon cycle?”

  Senna shook her head. “I…no. I don’t know.” The tears fell now. She pounded her fist on the bed. “How am I supposed to know these things?”

  Anacelia’s eyes held sadness, regret. “Your mother would have told you these things, when you became a woman. And I…I have failed you. I should have paid more attention. We should have talked before…I thought there would be more time.”

  “You haven’t failed me. You were there when I needed you. You have been my mother, even though…”

  Anacelia held up her hand. “Yes. But that isn’t the issue. That is not something to take lightly.”

  “What do I do?”

  “You take the Ottway to your marriage bed and no one will know…if…”

  “If…and if not? Then I’ll have done the thing I never wanted to do, for nothing.”

  “You can’t wait, or if you come to bed with child too soon, everyone will know someone had gotten there before the Ottway.” Anacelia frowned. “And how did this all come about, when you are promised to another man?”

  “He didn’t know, when…when it happened…about the marriage. I didn’t even know. My father hadn’t told me. It hadn’t been announced.”

  “Oh…” Anacelia’s shoulders sagged, as if this was too much, all of it, for her to bear. “That doesn’t change that he took advantage. But…somehow…”

  “Somehow it makes it less terrible, that he didn’t know?”

  “Less…” Anacelia shook her head, but she managed a smile. “There is no less with this. There is only secrecy. Mine. His. And yours.” Her smile faded. Then she gasped.

  “And he will keep this secret? Can you trust him? He cannot speak a word of this.”

  “He will not betray me.” She left out the part that it was Gabriel who had demanded her secrecy. Anacelia’s shoulders slumped again.

  “You’ve had your moment of telling your story, enough of it. It must now never be talked about again. Do you understand?”

  Senna nodded. Anacelia leaned over, kissing her cheek. “Child, you are the reason I have silver hair. I have a dozen more today.”

  “They look nice…”

  “They do not.” Anacelia started to rise, but Senna pulled her back down.

  “Can I just tell you how…”

  “No. No more.” Anacelia pulled away from Senna. “No more about this.” She took a few steps, picked up a skirt, began folding it. Senna waited, watching. Finally, Anacelia turned, the rose colored silk falling limp in her hands.

  “Alright. Once, only once. Tell me your story.” She sighed. “I know I’ll regret this.”

  Senna sat up, hands already tracing the air ahead of her words. “He came up the balcony. He said he’d been watching me for as long as he could remember, and then one night, under the full moon, he saw me as a woman, not a young girl anymore.” Her words came out in a rush and she stopped, frowning. “It sounded prettier when he said it.”

  Anacelia rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it did, if he was here and you were there, naïve and vulnerable. And then you…and he…in the moment…”

  Senna laughed. “It was romantic. But he is very good with words, with making pictures with them.”

  “I’m sure he’d very good with words, if it tricked you into letting him into your bed.”

  “It wasn’t like that. The first time…”

  “First time? There was more than once?” The shock in Anacelia’s voice was clear.

  Senna dropped her eyes. This wasn’t how this conversation was to have gone. “Only twice.” Her face grew warm; he’d only been in her room twice, but he’d made love to her far more times. But it was clear that little nugget of information wasn’t up for sharing.

  “Oh, child.” Anacelia watched her for a moment. Senna could almost see the thoughts running through the woman’s head. “You cannot see him again. You won’t see him, will you?”

  Senna nodded, thinking it was better than saying yes out loud. Even so, she crossed her fingers behind her back, double insurance against telling a lie. Even if Gabriel hadn’t said in so many words, there still was time, barely, for him to come to her. And if she was with child, then one more time wouldn’t matter.

  “You cannot see him again. And you will not tell anyone else about this. Will you.”

  It was more command than question. Senna nodded again, crossing the fingers of her other hand. At this rate, she’d be crossing her toes if Anacelia kept going with things she wasn’t supposed to do or say.

  “And you will do as the Ottway requests, no matter how badly the man smells. Hold your nose, or scent yourself, or something.” Anacelia threw up her hands, the silk fluttering around her. “It only takes once, they say.”

  “Once will be far too many times.” A flash of memory, the way Gabriel had held her as he took his release… She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and hoped what was in her mind wasn’t running across her face.

  “Then it’s settled. And we need to finish packing your things. Come.” Anacelia held out her hand. “Help me. I’m too old to do this alone.”

  Chapter Five

  Senna had said no more about her tryst. She’d sat at her dressing table, had gone through her jewelry, putting necklaces with diamonds and sapphires into their boxes and bags, putting a small pile of rings and bangles in a black velvet bag. She tucked the bag in a drawer. Anacelia had finally finished packing the last trunk and stood, wiping her hand across her forehead.

  “This is too much for an old woman.”

  “I wish it were not needed, or that we could just unpack all of this.” Senna looked over the boxes and trunks and parcels. Her rooms were a shambles.

  “Senna, I don’t have the strength to unpack this. Stop thinking about what cannot be changed. I’ll draw a bath…”

  “No. I want a walk before dinner. And I want to eat alone in my sitting room. If I can find a chair and table that isn’t covered with my belongings.”

  “As you wish.” Anacelia bowed. Senna thought she saw the woman wince as she straightened. “I’ll bring up a tray. What would you like?”

  Senna waved her hand. “Nothing much. Anything.” She glanced through the arches, over the balcony railing to the garden below. “Or, wait…roast capon, two. Figs, of course. And that wine I like. And cake, date cake.”

  Anacelia gave a brief laugh. “It’s good to see your appetite has returned. You won’t be losing your curves, after all.” She bowed again and left the room.

  Senna turned toward the balcony, watching the sun begin its final dramatic performance for the day. Maybe Gabriel would come to her tonight, her last night in the palace. If so, then there would be food enough…

  Abruptly she turned away. It was foolish to pin hopes on this, on him climbing up the balcony, coming to her again. Just because she wanted him to come to her didn’t mean he could. She knew nothing of his life here, what his duties were. Or even where he was.

  “You’re just being silly, Senna. Just…silly.”

  She dug through the clothes left out for her travels, unearthing her sunshade. It was late afternoon, edging into evening, but the sun was still bright enough to bring out those hateful freckles Anacelia teased her about. She was certain no one at the Ottway’s palace would ever bring her lemon juice to fade
her freckles, or even care that she had them.

  It was easier to slip down the back stairs. The guards stepped aside and she swished past them into the garden, the sunshade held above her head.

  The garden was her Father’s. He claimed it calmed his mind to walk among the trees and roses, plants he’d put into the ground with his own hands. Many times Senna had found him, on his hands and knees, digging in the dirt. Beside him would be a confused manservant, holding tools or a plant, waiting for instructions. And heaven help that servant who was careless with a plant, knocking off buds or tearing foliage.

  Now she was taking what would be her last walk through this garden. Each tree held a memory; the lemon she’d helped plant when she was just old enough to toddle after her father. The roses that marked the entrance to her mother’s crypt. The small marble building was set in a corner of the garden. Her father had planted two roses beside the doors and the vines had grown up around the arch, covering the building, scenting the air with their heady fragrance. She’d been only a baby, but she’d remembered coming here in her father’s arms, listening to him tell her about her mother. How beautiful she was, how she sang like an angel. How Senna looked just like her mother. The roses, he’d said were white for her purity, red for her passion.

  She reached up, plucking a red rose, holding it to her nose. The scent was intoxicating. Tears came to her eyes. She would miss this, these walks, her father’s garden. Maybe, if she could put aside her distaste for the man, she would ask the Ottway if she could plant roses.

  The sun was setting, the light changing as she walked through the garden. It was cooler now, under the trees, in the shadows beneath the archways. Somewhere above her she heard the flap of wings and a snow-white dove flew out, into the indigo sky. It was too perfect, too perfect. And she hated the idea of leaving it all behind.

  But it was getting dark. Her heart jumped in her chest. If Gabriel was going to come to her, it would be after dark. She should be ready, waiting, perfumed and clean of the dust and dirt of packing. Waiting for him in the cool dimness of her room, in something silky. Revealing. Or nothing.

  Her face flushed at the thought. At the idea of being wanton and alluring for a man, of being provocative. Of being as passionate as the rest of the rose in her hand. Of putting herself on display, knowing full well what that display could lead to. And wanting it.

  She ran back to her room, barely noticing the tray of food on the table. The bathroom smelled of rosemary and orange, the tub filled with steaming water. Dropping her clothes on the floor, she smiled. Anacelia had worked her magic again, with impeccable timing. She wondered if she had spies in the palace, telling her where Senna was, when she was out of her room, when she was back. However she did it, Senna was glad.

  The bath was magical, the water silky, like a lover’s caress. Blushing, she thought she knew now what that felt like. She sank down, the water lapping against her body. For a moment she let her hands slide over her stomach. Anacelia had asked if she’d missed her moon cycle. She’d been careless keeping track; there had never been any reason. Until Gabriel. And then she’d been too swept away with the whole experience to pay attention. And then the hurried confusion of the visit to the Ottway, the announcement of the marriage. Details like her moon cycle had slipped out of her grasp.

  Maybe there was a baby there, waiting. It would be Gabriel’s. And if she were, then she would have something of his, no matter what happened. She would always have that. And that was a secret she would never, ever share.

  When the room had grown dark, she climbed out of the water. There were decisions to be made, which robe to wear, or even if to wear one. She was almost giddy as she went through the few garments she’d told Anacelia to leave unpacked, things to sleep in, robes and shifts. He’d seen the blue robe the last time, and before that, she’d been wearing a white silk gown. But it had been dark, and he’d taken it off so quickly. Maybe tonight, their last night, she’d wear red. For the new confidence he’d given her, for the way she felt about him. The intensity of her love. For passion.

  The silk clung to her body, skimming over her curves, hugging her breasts. She felt like a woman, not a girl.

  She went to the door of her room and turned the key in the lock. Someone was coming for her at dawn, to take her things to the train, and then take her. The last thing she and Gabriel could have, was someone coming in unexpectedly. She turned back, looking at the chaos that was her room. But all that really mattered was the bed. Grabbing the few boxes and parcels left on the covers, she dropped them on the floor.

  The food was still there, the capons cooled now on their covered dish. She wasn’t hungry, but she nibbled on a fig, and a piece of cheese. She poured half a glass of wine, drank it slowly. It was dark outside, and she took the wine and cheese onto the balcony. The garden below was quiet except for the soft rustle of wind through the palms. She listened for a moment, then looked up at the stars overhead. The moon was past full, hadn’t risen yet. The stars were brilliant, thousands and thousands of them, brighter than any of the diamonds in her jewelry.

  As she watched, one streaked across the sky, a comet, a bright fuzzy tail streaking behind it. Before it disappeared she closed her eyes and made a wish.

  “With all my heart and all my soul, make it so Gabriel and I can be together. Make it so this marriage to the Ottway never happens.”

  When she opened her eyes the comet was gone. But she felt different, as if the world had moved a few degrees in her favor. As if whatever deity riding the comet had heard her.

  But she was chilled and went back to her bed, pulling a mohair shawl around her shoulders. It was still early, really. She’d have some more cheese, another fig. And wait. It had been very late when he’d come to her the first time, not quite so late the last time. And the moon rose later each night. There was still time. Still there was time for him to come to her.

  She curled against the padded headboard, pulling the coverlet over her shoulders. Her eyes felt heavy with sleep. She’d close her eyes, for just a minute. He’d wake her, surely he’d wake her. He had before.

  Her eyes closed, and for a moment she heard his voice. But then she thought it was only the wind. And the wind lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Someone was knocking on the door, softly, but she heard it. She opened her eyes, coming awake instantly, but in confusion. Gabriel never knocked at her door. And it was light, the sky the lemon-yellow of early dawn, not the soft darkness of night.

  The knocking started again, louder this time, and the door rattled against the lock. Someone called her name. When she sat up, the empty wine glass fell to the floor, breaking into shards. The bed was damp with spilled wine.

  “Just a minute.”

  She climbed out of bed, stepping around the broken glass. The plate of food was still there, untouched. She refused to believe what she saw, there must be some mistake. Or simply that it must still be the same day, it had to be. She’d fallen asleep before dark; that was all. But she’d seen the comet crossing the dark sky, made a wish on it.

  But she had to accept the truth; Gabriel had not come to her. He had stayed away.

  “Senna. Open the door.”

  She tied the robe closed, clasping the shawl around her shoulders and crossed to the door. She turned the key. Anacelia was there, looking worried. Behind her were several manservants, big strong men who waited patiently.

  “Senna? Are you well? You look pale as the moon.” Anacelia took Senna’s hand as she stepped into the room.

  “You, wait there.” With her free hand she closed the door, leaving the men in the hall.

  “I’m fine…really.” She didn’t feel fine, but she couldn’t admit she was dying inside of disappointment. “I…I didn’t sleep well.”

  “You drank wine and didn’t eat. No wonder you slept badly. Here. Sit.”

  Anacelia brought the tray of food, setting aside the plate of capons. “Here. Cheese and figs, and the date cake. It’s
a bit dry, but it will do. You can’t start this day weak with hunger.”

  “I’ll faint and then take to my bed.”

  “They’ll just carry you to the train. Senna, no one is going to wait for you to gain your strength. Your wedding day is only two days after you arrive; the Ottway will not stand for your delay. There have been plans made, guests arriving…a feast at least.”

  Senna picked at the cake, nibbling on a piece. It stuck in her throat when she swallowed and she coughed. Anacelia scurried away, returning with a cup of water.

  “Here. Drink. And we must hurry. The train was seen only a short distance away.”

  Anacelia took up the brush, running it through Senna’s hair with vicious strokes. Senna listened to the woman muttering about hair, and pins, and why they’d been packed, what to use.

  “At least you bathed. After I tame this mess, we’ll get you into your traveling costume.”

  Senna pulled a face, but a sharp tug from Anacelia’s brush silenced her words. “Fine. I’ll wear the Ottway’s gift. It’s been repaired?”

  “It has.” Anacelia was working furiously, braiding and twisting and pinning. “And put on your jewels. The gifts from the Ottway.”

  Senna took up rings, sliding them on several fingers, then managed to attach large earrings while Anacelia jerked her head to and fro.

  “And that hateful corset? It’s horrid, too small. I’m not sure why the Ottway thought I was a child, with no shape.”

  At that Anacelia laughed, her frantic brushing coming to a halt. “That, you will be happy to learn, has mysteriously disappeared. You may wear one of your own.”

  Senna managed a smile. “Small favors. At least I’ll be able to breathe.” Senna reached for a heavy silver necklace set aside from her own stash of packed jewelry. She held it for a moment, then lifted it, set it against her neck.

  “And maybe it will improve your temper. Here, let me.” Anacelia took the ends of the necklace, clasping it quickly.