Xavier and Arabella overslept the next morning, a welcome indulgence. He still couldn’t deny the luxury of waking up to late morning sunlight streaming through the bedroom porthole, casting a warm glow over the woman curled up in bed beside him. A glance at the clock mounted to the wall told him it was half-past eleven. Taking care not to disturb Arabella, Xavier stealthily climbed out of bed. Breakfast was their most immediate need, he decided. That, and to see if there was a telegram waiting for them from the barony at the airfield office.
He washed and dressed, then left a note in the kitchen for Arabella in case she woke up before he returned. Then he headed out into the summer sunshine for the airfield office. There was an on-site bakery, he recalled from the night before. He doubted Arabella would reject croissants served in bed.
A telegram waited for them at the office, just as he hoped. The clerk pushed the paper across the counter, a bored expression on his face, before turning back to his newspaper. With shaking hands, Xavier accepted it and briefly pondered if he should wait to open the envelope before he returned to the dirigible.
I could have a coronary and drop dead before I ever got to read it. Or I could lose it.
That decided it for him. He unsealed the envelope and removed the telegram.
ROSEHEATH WELCOMES FOSSIL HUNTERS STOP DIRIGIBLES CANNOT BE ACCOMMODATED STOP
It took Xavier a few seconds to remember the pretense he and Arabella had come up with to gain access to the barony. He was supposed to be interested in digging things up, after all but no dirigibles? How were they to reach the barony otherwise? He didn’t know how to drive a steam vehicle, not that he knew the Scottish countryside, anyway. He was also unsure if he and Arabella would be able to rent a carriage and team of horses, and there was still the treacherous landscape ahead of them to consider with that option, too. He folded up the telegram and stuck it in his trouser pocket. He’d have to ask Arabella what she thought.
He returned to the dirigible with chocolate croissants in hand, just in time to see her puttering about the galley wearing only his shirt. It was a frustratingly distracting sight and he nearly dropped the package of croissants.
“Tea?” she asked by way of greeting.
“Of course.” Before he could pour himself a cup, she kissed him, and once again he forgot everything else. It wasn’t until she pulled away and poured him a cup from her battered tin teapot that he remembered the telegram. “I come bearing breakfast and this,” he announced, and held out the telegram to her.
Arabella quickly scanned it. “Well, that’s a pain in the arse, if we can’t take the dirigible.”
“Do you know how to drive?”
“I don’t, but the telegram only says no dirigibles. It doesn’t say anything about an ornithopter. They’re available to rent in town.” She sipped her tea. “Unless you want to fly there with me on your back.”
“I’d like to try that sometime, but I don’t think today is the day.”
“Ugh, you’re a spoilsport.” She sniffed. “Do I smell pastries?”
“You do. With chocolate, even.” He set the package on the small sideboard and opened it. The smell of butter and chocolate rose in the air.
“Mmm, thank you.” She picked up the entire package and headed back to the bedroom. “Come back to bed with me.”
Xavier didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved the telegram back into his pocket, and followed her to the bedroom.
By the early afternoon, Arabella and Xavier were airborne in a bulky rented ornithopter.
Not an hour into their flight, she was already regretting it and silently cursing Roseheath for not allowing them to arrive by dirigible. The vessel’s wings creaked and made the passenger basket bounce in a way that had her stomach protesting. A glance at Xavier told her he felt as much the same. The steam-powered engine was much too loud, making conversation impossible but she was still able to fly the blasted thing with minimal difficulty. She had to admit the views beneath them were lovely, just as they were on the beach the night before. It was refreshing to see a landscape that wasn’t crowded with telegraph poles and roofs, their chimney belching black smoke. Even the air smelled cleaner. Despite the noise, she couldn’t help but shout to Xavier, “I still wish you could’ve flown us there.”
“And offend or terrify our werewolf hosts?” he yelled back. He adjusted his flight goggles. “Not to mention the human locals?”
“I’m certain that if you fly fast enough and high enough, someone might mistake you for a particularly unusual ornithopter instead.” A small insect flew into her mouth at her last word, making her gag. The ornithopter lurched to the side. Xavier reached over for the steering yoke and righted the vessel.
“That’s happened to me twice already,” he yelled.
Ugh. She nodded, irritated that even a shouted conversation was off the menu if it meant swallowing bugs. Why the hell were they this far up in the air, anyway? She shuddered.
Xavier smiled and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Keeping her lips firmly clamped together, she trained her gaze on the landscape ahead. The ornithopter cut through the air like a dull knife trying to cut through a potato, choppy and awkward, never gaining the grace her dirigible did when it hit the skies. Its passenger basket was too small to have any seating, so she and Xavier remained on their feet as it bounced and lurched. The slightest gusts of wind bounced and dropped them a few heart-stopping feet. Arabella silently cursed Roseheath for their refusal to allow dirigibles to drop anchor anywhere in the barony. She landed the ornithopter at the foot of a hill, its drive leading to an old-fashioned grand manor straight out of a gothic novel. Thick shrubbery and brambles lined either side of the drive, thistles in bloom at the edges. When she and Xavier left the passenger basket, swaying on their feet as they regained their sense of balance, she noticed that the whole area looked like something out of such a book that she would never read.
A new-looking wooden sign at the foot of the drive announced the property as Roseheath Manor, the seat of the barony. “I suppose we’ve arrived,” Xavier said, peeling off his flight goggles. They left red marks around his eyes, and Arabella was sure she had the same when she took off hers. He slipped on his spectacles and blinked as his vision adjusted.
“I hope they’re friendly,” she replied.
Xavier reached into the basket for his satchel, something he purchased in a secondhand shop before they left London. Inside was a notebook, pencils, and a few cheap brushes to keep up the pretense of looking for fossils. He swung its leather strap over his shoulder, then reached for Arabella’s hand.
A swarm of butterflies unleashed themselves in her stomach. “I think I’m more nervous now than when I was flying to Antarctica,” she announced as they started the walk up the drive.
“It isn’t unreasonable to have a healthy amount of fear. We could very well be walking into a den of wolves. That would give anyone pause for discomfort.”
What if the werewolves weren’t as friendly as Xavier was, if the pack actually existed? What if they sniffed out their ruse before they could bring up the subject of shifters? It would be easy enough to hide a couple of bodies in this part of the country. Did wolves eat people? Arabella racked her brain, trying to remember the scant information she knew about the animals. Xavier would probably know. “What do wolves eat?”
“They’re carnivores, so meat.”
“Does that include humans?”
He stopped in his tracks. So did Arabella. “I don’t believe so,” he said slowly. He looked up the drive, at the house that stood atop it. “But I’m not certain.”
Frustration welled up inside her. Not for the first time, she hadn’t done enough research before taking off for a new adventure. Like her trip to Antarctica nearly was, this could prove to be a fatal journey. “Damn it!” she snapped. She had to force herself not to stamp her foot in fury like a child.
“What is it?” Xavier’s concern was palpable. “Did you see something?”
“No. I’m angry that once again, I haven’t prepared. We know nothing about wolves and we’re walking into their territory. No one knew we were coming here, so if something happens, no one will look for us.” The bushes trembled to their left. An undignified yelp escaped her before a rabbit dashed across the drive.
“We’ve left a trail,” Xavier explained patiently. “There are flight records and the Aberdeen shop has your name for the ornithopter rental.”
“Ornithopters crash and disappear. So do people.”
“Arabella, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said firmly. “That’s a promise. I have the means of keeping you safe, and I will utilize them if necessary.” He leaned his forehead against hers, his voice a rasp. “I would kill for you if I had to.”
His confession made her breath catch. “You would?”
“I’d risk people seeing me like that, if it meant I could keep you safe.”
She shouldn’t be as thrilled or relieved as she was to hear his violent declaration, but she was. Impulsively, she kissed him.
His response was immediate, his body stiffening against hers as he gripped her hips, pulling her closer to him. The crazy thought of hiding in the bushes to fuck popped in her mind, only to be quickly tempered when she remembered the brambles and thistles. It also seemed impolite to do such a thing when they were on this mission, even by her relaxed moral standards.
“I love you, Arabella,” he said against her lips.
The words–unexpected, but so dearly wanted–had her pulling away from him just enough to scan his face. She could hardly believe him. “You do?”
“I have no right to, but yes.”
“No.” She put a finger over his lips. “Do not start getting melodramatic with me. You have every right to.” He tried to open his mouth to protest, but she didn’t move her finger.
He gently bit it instead, sending a shudder of pleasure through her.
“I love you, too,” she said softly.
His eyes went wide before he tightened his hold on her, lips sealing against hers.
She breathed him in, not wanting the moment to end, a moan escaping her when his tongue demanded entrance to her mouth. Dimly, she was aware of the sound of brambles brushing against each other next to the drive and remembered the rabbit.
Something rushed from the bushes and knocked Xavier to his feet, so fast it was a blur. It took a couple of seconds for the sight of something huge and covered in shaggy fur to register.
Her scream was loud enough to distract the creature, who turned a snarling face to her. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. It was an honest to God werewolf. Regular wolves couldn’t possibly be this huge, nor did she think they had the human intelligence in their eyes that this one did.
Its jaws snapped at her, and it was distracted for just long enough for Xavier to regain his footing. He ripped off his clothes with an inhuman speed, and Arabella had the distinct impression that he was about to do what he promised earlier.
At the sound of Xavier’s clothes hitting the ground, the werewolf whipped its head in his direction and lunged.
Xavier’s shift was quick and brutal, the fastest Arabella had ever seen. He filled the drive in a matter of seconds, scales shining in the early summer sun, nostrils flaring smoke. His wings touched the brambles on either side of the drive. With a casual flick of his clawed foot, he tossed the werewolf into the brambles as if the beast was lighter than a fly.
Pride surged in her at the sight.
The werewolf squealed in pain and surprise, but quickly found his feet. Moving fast for an injured animal, he sank his teeth into Xavier’s foot.
Xavier roared, the sound louder than any scream Arabella could produce, and belched a small cloud of fire. She fell to the ground to avoid it, landing on a patch of thistles. “Fuck!” she yelled. “Both of you, stop it!”
Growls issued from both of their throats. The werewolf snarled.
“We aren’t here to hurt you,” Arabella said. “Xavier, please don’t burn anything down. We came here looking for answers and we aren’t going to reveal your secrets.”
The werewolf’s gaze flicked to Arabella. She slowly rose to her feet, unsure how to respond. Was she supposed to look away from the wolf, to show deference? Wasn’t that how it worked with predators?
The werewolf sat back on its haunches, looking at her and Xavier as if trying to decide what to do next.
Xavier stayed where he was, belly low to the ground, ready to attack.
“Why doesn’t everyone get back into their human form?” she said. Her voice was steadier than she expected, and she hoped they felt as reassured as she sounded. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”
The werewolf inclined his head toward the manor.
“Should we follow?” Arabella asked.
The beast nodded.
“Are you going to kill us?”
It tilted its head to the side.
“Is that a maybe?”
That didn’t earn a response, although she could’ve sworn it rolled its eyes.
“We aren’t here to hurt you,” she repeated. “I promise. Although I’m sure you’ve already guessed that we aren’t here to survey the barony for fossils.”
With a groan, Xavier shifted back into his human form. He picked up his discarded clothes and the werewolf turned away to give him privacy. “Appreciated,” Xavier said. He looked down at the bite on his leg, already healing.
The werewolf trotted a few feet ahead of them. “We’ll be right there,” Arabella called.
Xavier quickly dressed, wincing as his trousers touched the bite and scratches from the werewolf’s claws. Arabella came close to muttering something about making a new rug for the dirigible but held her tongue. Who knew how many other werewolves were hiding in the brambles? “Are you all right?” she whispered as they resumed their walk.
“I will be in a few minutes when everything’s healed,” he replied. He squeezed her hand and gave her a quick smile. She supposed he’d earned it. He’d just won a fight with a werewolf, after all.
The werewolf waited for them, then walked a couple of feet ahead until they reached the top of the drive. Up close, the manor was magnificent: an older, stately home that was in the throes of restoration. New stonework had recently been installed on its exterior, contrasting with the weather beaten original part of the home, and the roof looked new.
The front door opened, and a young woman ran down the steps in a swirl of light blue skirts. “Henry!” she screamed.
Terror was written across her face, a fear so intense that it broke Arabella’s heart.
“What’s going on?” she demanded. Her gaze searched Arabella and Xavier’s faces. “Who are you?”
Her accent was English, from a good part of London, which surprised Arabella. “We came here looking for werewolves,” she said.
The Englishwoman let out a sob. The werewolf nuzzled her skirted legs with his face, and she reached for his shaggy fur, burying her fingers into it.
“It’s not like that,” Xavier quickly said. Indecision warred on his face, and Arabella briefly wondered what he was thinking about. “My name is Dr. Xavier Kinnon,” he continued. “I came here looking for answers about what I am.”
The woman peered at him, then haltingly asked, “Are you a werewolf, too?”
“No, madam,” he replied. “I’m a dragon.”