Isabel
The next morning Isabel again awoke in Alick's arms. This time she stretched and enjoyed the heat that washed over her limbs at the contact. Just as she rolled over to lift her head and offer herself up for a kiss, he slipped away. He muttered about leaving her to get dressed in private and was gone before she could object.
She sat up and stared at the shut door and an ache took up residence in her body. Was he really giving her privacy or did he leave her for other reasons? In the tempest of anger he brought her pleasure, but in the quiet moments alone together, he ran like a startled rabbit. Odd.
While pondering how to work up the courage to kiss Alick without being steaming mad at him first, Isabel sat in the kitchen, listening to the chatter of the others. A strange sense of belonging washed over her. She’d had a difficult start to her relationship with the other women but she was growing to enjoy the open conversation about a vast range of topics. There was no stiff formality and they used each other's Christian names, not titles or surnames. They laughed often, and some of Ianthe's comments were decidedly ribald. Isabel loved it.
Sarah took a seat and picked up her cup of tea. "Do you think you ladies could forage up some mushrooms? The men are cooking that venison haunch over the spit tonight and mushrooms would be a grand accompaniment."
"Oh, I would love a walk and a stretch," Aster said and Dougal gave a soft woof from under her seat.
Isabel nearly jumped with excitement; for once she had a snippet of practical knowledge that would be of assistance. "I know where the ones for eating grow around here and we wouldn't have to venture too far into the forest."
Ianthe arched an eyebrow. "Aster is not supposed to wander away from the lodge without a lupine companion."
Sarah looked in a store cupboard and produced two wicker baskets. Then the front door rattled and loud voices filled the lodge as the men returned from their morning tasks.
Aster took one basket from Sarah and handed the other to Isabel. "Don't worry, Ianthe. There has been no sign of the duke's men for two days since the wolves scared them off, and Dougal and I are both feeling cooped up. Hamish and Alick have returned; please send one of them along to carry our baskets once they have washed up."
Decision made, Isabel led the way, taking the small track that ran from the back of the stables. It looked like an animal path, but it was a quiet walk through the dense forest. Conversation flowed more easily between the two women and Isabel revelled in talking to another woman who abhorred shallow topics and wanted to discuss the war.
"I must say, I quite like the new Mrs. Ferguson. I do hope that I might call her friend," Aster said as they found a patch of fat mushrooms growing in the rich detritus under a stand of trees.
Isabel turned to stare, sure the woman was jesting. Emotions tumbled through her. She had never had a genuine friend. A true one, not a society friend who kissed the air by her cheek but sharpened her claws behind her back. The butterflies in her stomach gave flight.
"I would like that," she said with a tiny smile.
She had a friend. One who liked her, the real Isabel, and not the title. She turned her face so Aster didn't spot the ridiculous grin she sported. The former courtesan was thawing toward her, but Isabel suspected she would need to prove her worth to Ianthe before that woman opened up. They had both seen the worst of society, whereas Aster was more trusting.
Soon the baskets were filled with brown and white fungi. It was only as Isabel stood that she thought how odd it was that Alick or one of the others had not joined them.
"Where do you think they got to?" she asked Aster. They were protective of the woman and it was strange they hadn't hurried along the path to shadow her, even if her father's men had disappeared.
"I'm sure they're not far away," Aster said, lifting her skirts with one hand to step over the low-growing plants as they picked their way back to the path.
At that moment, Dougal crashed through the undergrowth and leapt into the middle of the worn track. He sat and stared intently at a spot in the distance that only he could see. His head cocked to one side and his right ear lifted.
Aster waved at her dog. "I would say someone approaches now."
A low growl emanated from the little terrier and he shuffled back toward his mistress.
"Dougal, don't be so silly. It's only Alick or Hamish." Aster reached down and patted the dog's head but he refused to be comforted.
A chill scurried down Isabel's spine. "Come back here, Aster, into the sunlight."
Isabel took her friend's arm and walked her back along the path to where the trees pulled back and a small glade opened out, and the warm earth was bathed in sunlight.
"In case it is not one of the wolves, better to stand where shadow men cannot reach?" Aster murmured as she fussed with the canine.
"Where they cannot draw on the dark to hide their faces from us," Isabel replied. She reached under her skirt and pulled the knife free from her garter, then she hid it among the mushrooms she carried. The handle nestled between two caps and at a casual glance looked like a skinny companion.
A man appeared around the bend, ducking his head to miss a low-hanging branch. Despite the warm weather he wore a long black coat and a soft military cap pulled low over his brow. Isabel recognised him, as did Aster, but it was neither of their husbands. It was one of her father's shadow men. The interchangeable Mr. Smith. She drew in a sharp breath, echoed by Aster.
Isabel had chosen a spot to make their stand that gave them the greatest amount of room to move and bright light to counter Smith's particular affliction. They could have struck off through the trees, but their long skirts would hamper them and it would not be a quiet exit.
The man raised his head and caught sight of them.
"Lady Isabel," he called out. "Or, I suppose, Lady Isabel no more."
A grin cut across his face as he neared. Dougal continued to bark and growl even as he slid closer and closer to Aster, until Isabel thought he might disappear under her skirt.
Mr. Smith tugged on the brim of his cap in the scantest regard to courtesy. Isabel knew this particular Smith, now that he couldn't draw on the shadows to obscure his features. This was the one who had caught her unaware the night of the ball, the one who said he would have stood up to duel her. Never had she been more grateful that Alick had taken his place.
Aster stooped and fussed over Dougal and avoided the man's gaze.
"No, I am Mrs. Alick Ferguson now, and of no import to anyone." Isabel kept her voice light, all the while glancing back down the track, looking for any sign of Mr. Ferguson.
Smith's sly gaze ran over her and then to Aster. "I'm so glad I found you. Two young ladies such as yourselves shouldn't be out here all alone. Your father wouldn't like it."
"I am no longer my father's responsibility, for which I understand he is rather relived." Isabel tried to keep the bitterness from her tone. Her father thought to throw her out and watch her flounder. Instead she stretched her wings and learned to fly in her new environment. She was the butterfly who had broken free of its glass container and soon she would soar.
Smith's gaze fixed on Aster, whose face was sheltered by the brim of her bonnet, the only shadow available in the bright clearing. "Perhaps since we have happened upon one another you could satisfy my curiosity and introduce me to your friend?"
The chill down Isabel's spine froze and locked her back rigid. "I don't think that is necessary, and we are due back at the lodge. Good day to you."
Aster straightened slowly, as though not wanting to draw his attention further. Dougal snarled as he placed himself between the stranger and his mistress.
Smith's hand snaked out and grabbed Isabel's arm, holding her still. "Lady Isabel would never forget her manners. Have you become a rude oaf like your new husband?"
She hissed at him, "Alick is a hundred times the man you could ever be."
"Your husband isn't a man at all, but a wolf wearing the skin of one." Then he laughed, a harsh noise that made Dougal's growl deepen. The dog's lip curled back and he revealed his canines.
Smith reached into the pocket of his long black overcoat and drew out a pistol. He pointed it at Dougal. "Introduce me to your friend or something unfortunate will happen to the mangy mutt. Do tell me it’s some relative of your new husband."
He was bluffing, Isabel was certain of that. He would never shoot the quick terrier, but Aster made the decision for her. The woman stepped forward and pushed his arm down, so the pistol pointed at the dirt. "I am Mrs. Hamish Logan. Satisfied? Now, let us be off, Isabel."
She turned and called Dougal to her, but the man let go of Isabel and lunged for Aster.
The woman jerked but he held her fast. "Let me go. This is most uncalled for."
"Not just yet." He placed the butt of the pistol under her chin and tilted her head up. The angle allowed the sunlight to caress her face, free of the shadow cast by her bonnet. He stared at her face until she met his gaze, and then he chuckled. "You have such unusual eyes. I have only ever seen one other person with violet eyes—Sir John Warrington. He had a maid, you know, who wore dark glasses."
Isabel's breath came short in her body. Where were Hamish and Alick? In the space between breaths she came to a decision. Aster was her friend and no one would hurt her friend.
"A maid who outwitted you and escaped." Aster spat out the words.
He laughed. "I thought it bad luck that I lost sight of you in the mess hall. But now I know differently. You had a reason to run. My boss would love to talk with you."
Aster smiled and kept calm, despite the pistol pressing into her skin. "My husband would love to talk to him, too. Perhaps we should arrange a luncheon?"
The sly smile returned to Smith's face, his attention fixed on Aster. "I don't think we need bother him. You can come with me now. Leave the annoying pup behind."
He wrapped his hand tighter around Aster's upper arm and pushed her in front of him. Propelling her back toward the path and out of the clearing meant he moved the pistol and it was no longer aimed at Aster. Dougal didn't like the way his mistress was being manhandled. The dog barked and leapt at Smith. He latched onto the man's trouser and he called out as the terrier's sharp teeth found his leg under the fabric.
Isabel decided to follow the dog's lead. It was time for action. Smith kicked out his leg, trying to dislodge Dougal. The momentary lapse in his attention gave Aster a chance to wrench sideways in his grip. Isabel also jumped into the fray. She gripped the knife and ploughed into Smith. His hand holding the pistol waved in her direction, but she was too close now. Being under his guard, he couldn't draw the weapon back quickly enough. As her shoulder angled into him, she lashed out and shoved hard with the knife.
Alick might have been a common soldier, but over the last few days he had taught her skills no noble husband would dare impart. They sparred and fought in the meadow beside the lodge and he taught her how to compensate for her lack of strength by using speed. He also taught her the soft spots on a man, the places where they were most vulnerable. He counselled her not to worry about fancy footwork in a fight, but to go for the messy thrust that would incapacitate an opponent.
Isabel heeded her husband's lessons as the blade sliced through cloth and then met flesh. Still she thrust it deeper and upward as Alick had shown her, until hot blood washed over her hands. Smith uttered an oomph and stumbled back. He looked down at the embedded knife and Isabel's hands, stained red.
"You'll pay for that," he said, lifting his right arm to aim the pistol at her.
Isabel held her breath, waiting for the inevitable shot, but a curious thing happened. Instead of the sharp retort of a pistol firing there came a soft thud and Smith flowed to the ground. He didn't drop like a felled tree, but pooled like a piece of fabric. His ankles wobbled, then his knees buckled and he draped himself along the track.
Behind him stood Aster holding a short, fat lump of wood. She looked down at the prone man. "Only one person will be paying for their actions. It would seem we have solved one mystery: Shadow men can bleed."
Isabel thought how different this was compared to when the deer died. The animal had slipped from this world peacefully, giving its life to sustain others, and Alick had given his thanks for its sacrifice. This seemed messy and angry. The prone man wasn't moving, but it could be a trap. If they neared he might fling out a hand and grab one of them.
"Is he dead?" Isabel wondered if she should kick him and see if he reacted. A dark stain spread under his body and soaked into the porous earth.
Aster bent down and placed her fingers against his neck, still holding the lump of wood in her other hand. "No. He still has a pulse."
A howl came from down the track and Isabel suspected the quiet stretch of forest had never seen such activity. A large auburn wolf galloped down the track with Hamish right behind. Dougal gave a joyous bark on spotting his packmates.
Hamish barely glanced at the body on the track, and swung Aster into his arms as soon as he reached her.
The enormous auburn wolf shifted from animal to man between one footfall and another. Alick pulled the tweed around his middle and then took hold of Isabel by the shoulders, his worried gaze dropping to her blood-covered hands. "Are you all right, Izzy-Cat?"
"Yes, the blood is his. He recognised Aster and was going to take her away. I would not let him hurt a friend. We kept him in the sunlight where he could not draw upon the shadows. We did not want him to either disappear or alert the others." She searched Alick's face for any sign of anger or disgust. Had she done the right thing?
He kissed her forehead and then folded her in an enveloping embrace that shut out the world. Warmth and security surrounded her. "That's my resourceful Izzy-Cat. We look out for each other in our family."
Hamish's voice broke through the moment. "Give me a hand, Alick. Let's move him off the track into the forest, before anyone else stumbles along."
Giving her arm a squeeze, Alick helped his cousin carry the man deeper into the forest. Voices murmured for long minutes. Aster pulled Isabel to sit on a fallen log, while they waited and gathered their wits. Dougal remained their constant guardian, the dog on high alert as he monitored the forest.
A sharp crack made both women sit upright and stare at one another. It sounded as though one of the men had stood on a stick, yet a shiver down her spine said it most definitely wasn't a stick that had snapped. Then their husbands emerged from the trees.
Hamish laid a hand on Aster's shoulder. "Alick will walk you both back to the lodge and send on Ewan. We'll deal with Mr. Smith."
"Is he dead?" Isabel hadn't considered the consequences of her actions until now. Was she a murderess? Had she killed to defend Aster? First poaching, then burglary and now murder. She really had thrown herself into her new role.
Hamish's hazel gaze met hers. "He is dead, but by my hand, not yours. It seems a dead shadow man remains corporeal and doesn’t dissolve back into shadow."
She let out a deep breath. Smith's demise was not by her hand. It was a tiny fact that her mind needed to hear, to find comfort in her actions defending Aster.
"My father will notice him missing. As will his companions." She glanced up at Alick. Clouds gathered in his pale gaze and a shiver ran down her spine.
Hamish leaned down and kissed Aster's cheek. "We'll worry about that later. Go back to the lodge and wash your hands."