Author/pseudonym: Tinnean

Fandom: The Wolf Man/The African Queen

Pairing: Lawrence Talbot/Thomas Fortescue-Smythe, Tommy/Roddy Sayer

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: No, they don’t belong to me. Well, except for Tommy. Universal studio owns The Wolf Man, and C.S. Forester takes the credit for The African Queen. James Agee and John Huston worked their magic on the movie. I borrowed Brookfield from James Hilton.

Status: new

Date: 11/01

Series/Sequel: This isn’t a series, but does follow events that took place during Poor, Wand’ring One, which was my African Queen/Mummy crossover.

Summary: The original owners of Talbot Abbey return and rebuild after the debacle of Ardeth Bey.

Warnings: m/m, m/f/m (briefly), language, spoilers for the movies

WARNING: This one has a touch of bestiality in the mix. If that squicks you, there’s the old delete key.

WARNING: Minor character death. I have no clue how that happened!

Notes: I’ve moved the setting of Talbot Abbey from Wales to Kent, and I’ve taken considerable liberties. This goes out to Athea, who was wondering what happened with Roddy and Tommy. And as always, to my home girls, Silk and Gail.

Even a man, who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms, and the autumn moon is bright.

When the Wolfbane Blooms

By Tinnean

Talbots had lived in Wales since the time of the Plantagenets.

Of course, they weren’t known as Talbot when an enterprising mercenary got himself knighted by Henry II. The property granted him was mostly marsh, and only produced peat and swamp grass, and hungry peasants.

All of that changed, however, in the time of the restored Charles. One of that knight’s descendants profited by having a beautiful wife who pleaded prettily to be taken to court.

Even then, we were not very clever in those we chose to love.

Because he could deny her nothing, her husband finally acceded to her wishes. And once at court, she managed to catch the lusty monarch’s wandering eye.

Charles II had only enjoyed the woman for one night before he returned her to her husband, but he was a generous king, and in recompense, granted my ancestor a baronetcy. It might not have seemed like much in the way of payment, save for the property that went with it, which alone was worth more to my ancestor than a more exalted title.

Everyone concerned felt the bargain was well met. Except, perhaps, for the wife, who had hoped for a permanent position under the king.

The land given with the title was in Kent, and contained an Abbey, which was in sad disrepair since the Papists had fallen into disfavor. Being a rather unimaginative sort, he changed the family name to suit the name of the estate.

And so, we became the Talbots.

****

Adjacent to Talbot Abbey ran the estate of another baronet, Sir Henry Fortescue-Smythe. His youngest son, Thomas, was my age, and we were staunch friends, inseparable throughout our boyhood. We did everything together, rode, fished, swam, hunted.

We even lost our virginity to the same woman.

Our first, and to my knowledge, only encounter with the opposite sex, was with a lusty, plump milkmaid who enjoyed the thought of having two randy young gentlemen service her.

Her cunny rather failed to excite me, and I had been losing my erection, finding her overblown charms somewhat distasteful, when Thomas shoved into her arse. All that separated me from my friend’s cock was a thin layer of tissue, and I nearly came right then. That friction had felt better than anything I had ever experienced.

Our hips pumped steadily into her. Thomas scattered kisses over each bit of flesh that he could find.

My arms were able to reach around to embrace both the girl and my friend, and I found his muscular buttocks much more to my liking. He wriggled under the assault of my fingertips, and spread his legs wider. I began to imagine having my friend with nothing between us at all.

Thomas’ lips were a temptation I couldn’t resist, and somehow it seemed natural that when his mouth was just a hairsbreadth away from mine, I should kiss it.

The milkmaid was thrilled that our pricks suddenly became re-invigorated, and her cries of fulfillment mingled with our own hoarse groans.

"Oh, la, young sirs! That was loverly! If you want to do this again, Meggie is your girl!" she sighed voluptuously.

But we never did, because shortly after that, we lost our other virginity, this time to each other.

We’d gone for a swim in the pond on his family’s land, and stripped naked. Unobtrusively, I peeked from the corner of my eye. He was half hard.

I was fascinated by the sight of Thomas’ cock. When he realized I was watching him, his prick swelled, and I couldn’t prevent myself from reaching out to touch it.

I stroked my fingers over it, and it quivered beneath them. "Will you let me suck it, Thomas?"

His cock jumped at my words, and his lips parted, but nothing came out. He nodded, and I pushed him to sit on a rock on the bank of the pond. My mouth was watering, and I leaned over and tentatively licked the slit at the tip of his prick. A huff of breath crossed it, and he moaned softly.

"Oh, that’s lovely, Lawrence. Please, do more!"

I took the head between my lips and sucked, and Thomas moaned. "Am I hurting you, Thomas?"

He shook his head wildly, and I swallowed more of him. My head bobbed up and down, and I became lost in the experience as I learned his taste and texture.

I reached between his thighs and gently tickled his balls, and with a cry, Thomas came. I swallowed thirstily.

Of course, it wasn’t enough. I rolled him onto his stomach and had him kneel on the bank of the pond. He raised his hips and reached back to part his buttocks, and I licked a path from his balls to the little pink pucker, loosening it with my tongue.

Thomas writhed. "Please, Lawrence, fuck me! I want this!"

Come was still oozing from his softening prick, and I smeared it over my own erection. I fitted it to Thomas’ hole and began to push in.

He panted harshly, struggling to accept my bulk, and then I was past the tight ring and buried in his silken heat. My balls slapped against his as I drove into him, and his small whimpers of pain changed to moans of pleasure. "There, Lawrence! That spot right there!"

I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but somehow I found the place that caused him to gasp and thrust back on me, and hit it again and again.

His head dropped onto his arms and his inner muscles gripped me tight. His moans were music to my ears. My balls tightened and drew up, and I came, pouring liquid heat into his passage.

I fell across his back, struggling to regain my breath. "Are you all right, Thomas?"

He was silent, and I feared that I had hurt him. I slid out of him and turned him onto his back. He peeled open an eye and grinned at me. "Can we do this again?"

"Greedy get!"

"Oh, yes. What did Oliver Twist say? ‘Please, sir. I want some more!’"

We spent that summer off on our own, finding secluded spots to experiment with our sexuality.

Those were halcyon days, but unfortunately, they were drawing to a close, and with them, although we were unaware of it, our special friendship.

I kicked my horse into a gallop, setting him at the paneled fence that separated the home farm from some fallow land.

"I say, Lawrence, not fair!" Thomas, raced after me, but I was the better rider, and my horse cleared the bars with a characteristic flip of his tail. "Lawrence, you blighter!" But he was laughing breathlessly.

I pulled up at the far edge of the field and slid off Monte’s back, waiting for Thomas to catch up with me. "Slow poke!" I teased.

He hopped off his own mount and threw himself into my arms, knocking us both to the soft grass. Monte snorted and ambled off a few yards. Thomas’s Galahad joined him and they began to graze.

White-blond hair spilled across my lips, and tourmaline eyes glinted with laughter

"You’re so beautiful, Thomas!" I said hoarsely, and drew his head down to mine. "Kiss me!"

His mouth was like honey, and I feasted on it. But there was a desperate quality to that kiss.

Thomas’ fingertips stroked my cheek. "What’s wrong, gov?" We had been careful never to call each other anything that might reveal our devotion to each other.

I turned away from him and plucked a blade of grass, winding it restlessly between my fingers.

"We’re leaving."

He nodded. "I know. Term starts soon. I shall miss you, Lawrence. It’s such rotten luck that your father insists you go to Eton, instead of Brookfield. But I’ll see you at the hols, and we’ll have a smashing good time fucking each other senseless!"

I shook my head. "No, you don’t understand, Thomas. I shan’t be going to school here in England. Mother and I are leaving. She and Father have had a tremendous row, and she’s going back to Canada."

"But…"

"She’s taking me with her."

"How can Sir John permit that?" he demanded. He took the blade of grass from me and stroked it across my lips.

I shrugged, trying to conceal the hurt that question evinced. I was not the heir. I was not even the spare, but how could he let me go?

Father’s first wife was the daughter of a penniless earl. But he loved her. She presented him with his beloved sons, dying in childbed after the birth of the second one. This left Father devastated, and with two small boys to raise.

On the rebound, he married Mother, whom he met while she was on a visit from Canada. After ten barren years, she finally became pregnant. But by that time things had gotten extremely rocky between them.

I grew up assuming that all married couples sniped at one another over the dinner table, or that they slept in separate rooms, until I stayed overnight at Thomas’ home, Fortescue Manor.

For the longest time I wanted to be Thomas. But loving him was almost as good.

"When must you leave?" he asked, his voice subdued.

"By the end of the week. I’m going to miss you so much, Thomas."

"Lawrence, if you ask Sir John to let you stay…?"

I shook my head sadly. "Mother would be destroyed. It would be just one more betrayal. I have to go with her, you see that, don’t you?"

"Yes, love, I understand. But oh, Lawrence, I shall miss you!" His blue eyes swam with unshed tears.

I forced a smile to my lips and got to my feet. "We have today, love. Come!"

He took my outstretched hand, and I pulled him up.

With the horses trailing along behind us, we visited all the spots on the estate where we had played, and made love in each one of them.

Part 2

The evening before Mother and I were scheduled to sail to Canada, I slipped out and met Thomas one last time. He was waiting for me near a clearing where a caravan of gypsies had been given permission to camp. I wanted to take him somewhere else so I could make love to him, but he laughed and backed out of my reach.

"I want to have my fortune told, first, Lawrence! Please! Don’t you want to know what the future holds for us?"

"I already know what it holds," I told him grimly. "You’re going to be here, in England, and I’ll be three thousand miles away."

He leaned close and kissed me. "Please, gov?" he begged. "Just a quick stop at the fortune-teller’s tent, and then you can take me away, and make me do anything you like!"

"Anything?" The thought of having Thomas wrap those lush lips of his around my throbbing cock brought me to the edge of orgasm. He nodded and laughed and bounded toward the camp.

A number of villagers from both the Abbey and the Manor were already there, and we had to wait to see the gypsy, Maleva. We strolled around the camp, past the young women who danced as they shook their tambourines, and the young men who tried to interest the unwary in an unsound horse or donkey.

I paid an old crone a few pennies for a dish of stew that I shared with my friend. "If we were alone, I’d feed this to you with my fingers," I whispered to him, delighting in the flush I could see in the firelight.

His lips parted. "Tell me what you would do, Lawrence."

Purposely I kept my voice low, so he would have to lean close to me. "You see this piece of bread? I’d dunk it in the stew and then rub it over your lips. When you opened your mouth to accept, it, I’d slip my fingers in, instead, and make you suck the sauce off them!" He moaned. "Thomas, must we wait for the old woman? I want to fuck you so badly!"

"Soon, I promise! See, it’s our turn now!" He hurried into the tent, dragging me after him. "Good evening, Grandmother," he greeted her politely. "It’s very nice to see you again."

"And you also, young sir. You have been well?" She examined him in the fitful light of the candles, and smiled, a snaggle-toothed grin that revealed a few gaps. "Ah, yes I think you have been more than well! There is an aura about you!"

He blushed and his gaze sought mine as if he couldn’t help himself. "This is my friend, Lawrence."

She gestured for him to seat himself before her. "I think he is more than a friend. Tell me, young sir. What is your desire?"

He promptly held his palm out to her. "What is my future, Grandmother?"

I stood at Thomas’ shoulder and watched as Maleva took his hand in her work worn grip and studied it intently. She stroked her fingertips over the plump mound at the base of his thumb and across the depression in the center of his palm. I saw her shiver. "Do you wish for the truth, young sir?"

He looked affronted. "Of course I want the truth. I’m a man! I can handle whatever comes my way!"

The gypsy smiled sadly and looked at his palm. "Proud!" she murmured, almost to herself. "Very well, young sir. Your path will not be easy. There will be loss along the way. But you are brave, and will bring much honor to the name you bear. What more do you wish to know?"

"Love, Grandmother. Will my love return to me?" He glanced at me through his lashes.

"The one you love will come to you through danger, across flood and fire …" She gasped and her hand tightened convulsively on Thomas’. Her eyes searched his deeply. "Because of the one who will love you, you will be under the protection of a very ancient one!" She looked at him with something akin to awe.

I thrust my palm in front of her. "Read my future, old woman!" Already I was trying to determine how I could make her words to Thomas refer to me. I was going across the ocean, surely that could signify as a flood. Danger and fire, though…

She released my friend’s hand and took mine. "Ahhh! Young sir, be so kind as to bring me another candle!" she directed Thomas. He ducked out of the tent, and I slid into his seat. The gypsy leaned forward, speaking urgently. The words that spilled from her mouth were indecipherable. They seemed to roll over me, reverberating in my skull, but I could not understand a single one.

"What…?"

And then I could understand her again. "The young sir is not for you, my son. Leave him be. Your future paths will cross, but there will be only sorrow and death at the end of them!"

I was stunned. This was not the type of reading a gypsy normally gave, and I struggled to free my hand. "You must be mad, old woman!"

Thomas returned just then with a branch of candles. "Here you are, Grandmother."

"Thank you, young sir." She held my gaze over the flickering light. "You will recall my words, and return to this place, when the time has ripened. Until then, go with God, my son. Bela!" she called. A young gypsy male thrust aside the opening of the tent. "Show these gentlemen from the camp, my son."

She refused to accept our coins. Thomas bowed politely over her hand, but I could see he was concerned by her action.

The gypsy, Bela, laid his hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off sharply, disturbed by the sensation of his touch. His dark eyes bored into mine, and it was as if something passed between us. He led us to the edge of the camp.

It had grown late. The fires had all been banked, and the villagers had all returned home.

"Thank you for visiting us, young sirs," the gypsy murmured, and vanished into the darkness.

I swallowed and hurried Thomas away from that spot.

****

As much as my friend tired, with hands and mouth, to rouse me, he was unsuccessful. I remained limp.

"I’m sorry, Thomas," I cried, ready to weep.

"Hush, love. It’s all right. What did Maleva say to you?"

"I…I don’t know. Nothing, I think. It isn’t important. What is important is that I’m leaving tomorrow, and I can’t make love to you tonight! Who knows how long it will be before we can be together again?"

We walked back to Fortescue Manor, my arm around his shoulder, his around my waist.

"Will you wait for me, Lawrence?"

"*Yes*!" I shouted hotly. And then tears did fall, because I knew how difficult it would be for us to remain faithful to each other, with an ocean between us. I buried my head against his shirtfront. "I’ll try, Thomas. Oh God, I’ll try so hard!"

His hand caressed my hair. "Me, too, love." His kiss was salty from my tears. Or perhaps they were his tears, as well. And suddenly I was trembling with desire, my cock threatening to burst through my trousers.

Glancing around quickly to make certain we were unobserved, I shoved Thomas into the shadows that surrounded his home. His trousers were already opened, and I reached in to free his cock.

I knelt before him and took it deep into my mouth. A spurt of precome hit the back of my tongue, and his taste exploded in my mouth. I rubbed my tongue vigorously along the underside of his shaft.

My friend was breathing heavily, and his legs trembled. I tightened my grip on his hips, urging him deeper into my mouth.

"No, Lawrence!" His hands tugged on my hair. "Together! I want us to come together!"

I climbed to my feet and undid my trousers, which slid down, exposing my quivering cock. Thomas surged forward, his prick rubbing against mine. I wound my fingers in his hair, holding his head still while I plundered the honeyed depths of his mouth.

He swallowed my groans and sucked on my tongue as our hips rocked in an increasingly unsteady rhythm. "Please!"

Thomas spun me around and pushed me to my knees. He spit on his palm and lubricated his shaft with it, then rubbed his leaking cock against my anus. The brief flash of pain was buried under a wave of pleasure, as with a single, smooth thrust he was deep inside me, his balls nestled against the crack of my arse.

We were both too close to the edge, and with one last, hard push, we came, Thomas filling me with his essence, I spattering my shirt with the white fluid.

He stayed in me for as long as he could, but eventually he grew too soft, and slid out. I rolled onto my back, gasping for breath, and fastened my lips to his throat, working the flesh so in the morning he would see the mark.

"Lawrence, are you all right?"

I drew in a deep breath, savoring the scent of our passion. My arse was sore, but I would take the feel of my lover’s possession with me when I left. "Never better, gov!"

He tried to smile at my response, but his face crumpled and his arms tightened around me. "I will miss you!"

****

We tidied ourselves as best we could and spent another hour saying goodnight with soft touches and deep caresses, until finally exhaustion threatened to overcome us. With one last kiss, he disappeared into the house and I was forced to make my way home.

I knew the Abbey would be locked up, but that didn’t worry me. There was a large oak tree that grew outside my window, which I had had the presence of mind to leave open. I leaped to catch the first branch and then scrambled up the rest of the way.

The window slid quietly up, and I eased over the casement. Boxes were stacked by the door in preparation for our departure the next morning. I stripped off my clothes and left them where they fell, yawning so hugely the hinges of my jaw almost locked.

Suddenly, something hit me in the back, knocking me onto my bed. A heavy body covered mine, the rough clothing abrasive against my naked skin.

Before I could shout for help, a hand clapped over my mouth, squeezing hurtfully over my lips. "You will not cry out, little brother," the heavily accented voice whispered in my ear, and I trembled beneath him. "I have no wish to hurt you, but if you make a sound you will leave me no choice, and I will." He waited patiently until I nodded.

There was a rustling as he opened his trousers. I shivered as I felt a cock prod my still-slick anus and then slide past the ring of muscle. He was so big, and he was stretching me, filling me to the point of pain, and I whimpered.

"I am sorry, little brother. This is the way it must be!"

For a spit second I understood, and the future was revealed to me. Then the shroud of forgetfulness descended once more, clouding the reason behind this assault.

Tears streamed down my face. When I left England, my body would take, not the memory of my best friend loving me, but of the young gypsy who was plundering my back passage more thoroughly than Thomas had ever done.

I was ashamed, but I couldn’t prevent myself from meeting his thrusts. The gypsy was constantly targeting that special spot within me, and my cock was hard and leaking precome. He reached beneath me and took my balls in his hand, rolling them gently. I panted and whined as he pushed me closer to my climax.

With a growl, he bucked one more time, and then held himself still. I could feel his heat pouring into me, and I trembled. When he was finished, he pulled out of me and turned me onto my back. My cock was smeared with precome, and he leaned forward and ran his tongue around it, tugging hard. A broad swipe laved it from base to tip, pausing to dip into the slit.

He took the crown between his lips, and as he worked my cock he shoved two fingers into my arse, which spasmed around them, and he continued fucking me while he sucked my orgasm from me. I bit the heel of my hand to muffle my cry of completion.

The gypsy removed his fingers from my body and wiped the remains of his own climax on his trousers before he did them up. He pulled me up to him and I was held powerless in his grasp. His teeth sank into the muscle of my shoulder and I stared at him stupidly, unable to do a thing to stop him, almost overwhelmed by the pain.

Yet when he raised his head there was no blood smeared over his lips. I forced myself to look at my shoulder, at the horrible wound that should have shredded it, to find only a faint scar.

"What…what did you do?"

"When you see this, you will know you are mine!"

"I am leaving England!" I murmured weakly in protest.

"But you will be back." He got to his feet and extended his hand toward my face. I flinched away from his fingers, and sadness filled his eyes. He stroked my cheek.

"Why, Bela? Why did you do this to me?"

"You are the one who is destined for me, little brother." He glanced back from the window before he stepped out into the night. "It has been seen in your palm!"

Part 3

The years passed, and the pain of my separation from home and from Thomas gradually eased. The only thing that kept me connected with home was the sporadic letters I received from my friend. I learned more from him of what was happening with my family than from Father and my brothers.

"You’ll never guess, gov!" he’d write. "Your brother Harry is now a colonel! Perhaps once I’m in the army also we shall run across each other!"

Harry was my middle brother, and Thomas was almost as army mad as he had been.

When I graduated from University and joined a local architectural firm, which had long been my goal, he wrote, "Congratulations, Lawrence! I hope none of the buildings you design fall down upon their heads! Ha ha! Seriously, gov, I’m so happy your dreams are coming true."

Or, "Only fancy, gov! I’ve got my commission! I’m Leftenant Fortescue-Smythe now! The Mater has wept all down my brand new uniform, and Father was so proud I thought he would burst a button! Of course, Bertie, the sod, told me not to get above myself, but you know him, always ready to lord it over me and depress pretensions!"

I could almost hear the excitement and laughter in his voice, and I smiled, amused by the affectionate disrespect with which he and his elder brother had always treated each other.

It was nothing like the rather strained relationship I had with my own brothers, who were so much older than I. Because of the difference in ages, I had never been as close to John and Harry as perhaps any of us would have liked.

The letter after that brought sad news. "Father is dead, Lawrence. The most foolish thing: he caught a cold, which settled in his chest and developed into an inflammation of the lungs, and he was gone in a week’s time! I’ve been given emergency leave to be with Mother and Bertie. We’re all in shock, gov. I wish you were here. Father thought very highly of you, and I…miss you!"

I was devastated, feeling the loss almost as keenly as my friend. Sir Henry had offered me unconditional acceptance, and had been more of a father to me than Sir John Talbot. If it had been possible, I would have traveled home to be with Thomas and his family.

For sometime afterward I heard nothing from Thomas beyond a note assuring me they were coping.

Eventually he was able to write in more detail, "Bertie has assumed the baronetcy and is cutting a wide swath among the members of the opposite sex, much to Mother’s despair! She’s trying to encourage him to settle down! Fortunately for me she hasn’t yet decided that I need a steadying influence!" His sense of humor was emerging once more. "I think she’d be rather shocked at my choice of mate, don’t you, gov?"

I smiled sadly. I had accepted it would never be me.

The next letter had me a trifle concerned. "Rumors of war, gov, but that’s nothing new. I’m being sent to British West Africa. You needn’t worry about my safety. My RSM is Archie Cutter, and he’s a godsend. I wrote you about him, remember?"

I remembered. From what I had read between the lines, Regimental Sergeant Major Cutter was more than a godsend, he was also Thomas’ lover.

Of course, I couldn’t be jealous. I had had my share of lovers since I had arrived in Canada, including one very intriguing encounter with a cowboy called Arizona when I chanced to be in Alberta for the Calgary Stampede. Bucking broncos and Brahma bulls were not the only things he knew how to ride. My arse was pleasurably sore for a week after we parted company.

But the rumors of war were to prove true. The second week of September I received a wire from England that suddenly brought it very close to home. ‘Harry killed 7 Sept Battle of Marne. Letter to follow. John’

I wasn’t there to receive my oldest brother’s letter. The Talbots needed to be represented in this war. I knew Father would never permit John to go, being the heir, so that left only me. I went into the first recruiting office I could find and enlisted in the Canadian army.

It was only months later that the letter found me, and I learned that Harry had been killed by mortar fire on the second day of that battle, which had been a victory for the allies.

The next letter from Thomas was much longer in reaching me, having to deal with not only the vagaries of the African postal service, but also with the caprice of the army. I was in the trenches on the Western Front when it finally caught up with me.

I tipped my gas mask off my face and sat down to read it. "I’ve been promoted to captain, gov! And none of that ‘Well, I reckon they must be hard up for officers!’ from you, Mr. Talbot! All joshing aside, Lawrence, I’m so glad you’re well out of this."

He hadn’t received my letter telling him of Harry’s death, then, and my subsequent enlistment.

"It’s a dirty, nasty business, this. The Huns are burning villages and murdering the young men who refuse to obey their orders. As for the women, I don’t even want to think of what has befallen them."

I could imagine, and I hadn’t been there to see the atrocities. The next lines were a trifle smudged, but after a bit of squinting, I was able to decipher the words.

"I must tell you of a rather singular occurrence, gov! There was a tremendous explosion on the Lake, and my men pulled the most amazing young man out of the water! He’s little more than a boy actually, not much more than eighteen, I’d say." This, from the maturity of his twenty-four years. I chuckled, but sobered quickly and read on. "He’s the brother of a missionary who was at Kungdu, a small village in German East Africa. The poor sod was killed by those bleeding Huns!"

That last shocked me a bit. Oh, not that the Germans were capable of killing a man of God, but that my old friend was swearing. Obviously this had affected him more than he was inclined to let on.

Just then my commanding officer strode by. "We’ll be going over the top shortly, gentlemen. Fix bayonets, if you please."

I sighed and tucked the letter away in the blouse of my uniform.

****

The fighting was short, fierce, and bloody. When we returned to the trenches, there were fewer of us, but the line had held. I cleaned my bayonet, struck a lucifer to light my cigarette and settled in for the evening.

Taking out the letter, I scanned it quickly and found my place. "…The poor sod was killed by those bleeding Huns!

"Roddy Sayer came down the Ulanga, which is called the Bora down here because its temperament changes so much, no one ever realized it was the same river! It was damn near unnavigable, but he did it, gov, with this old riverboat captain, a Canadian chap, Allnutt by name. And that’s not the half of it! Would you believe it, Lawrence? They actually succeeded in blowing up and sinking the Konigin Louisa, the German steamship that patrolled the Lake?

"I must say, gov, I was impressed!" The last word was underscored three times.

I wondered if my friend had sampled the young man’s charms, and what RSM Cutter had to say about it. Thomas could never admit his interest so blatantly in a letter that would be read and censored in the interest of military security, but that last line was enough to inform me of his fascination, and I felt a fleeting stab of loneliness. It had been too long since I had loved anyone, and none who much cared if there was a rival.

There were no other letters after that, but I chalked that up to distance and the demands of his command. And then came the Battle of the Somme.

That was a bad year. Just months before, the French had been left decimated by the Battle of Verdun, and now it fell solely to us British to assume full responsibility for the newest battle.

Within a handful of hours, there were over sixty thousand casualties.

****

I regained consciousness in an ambulance, my right leg feeling as if it were on fire. A bullet had struck my shin, breaking it but fortunately not shattering it. When I was carried into the field hospital, I held my revolver on the doctor, who was quite good-looking, and informed him that if I awoke without the leg, I would come after him, even if I had to drag myself, and shoot off a favorite piece of his anatomy.

A nurse slapped an ether mask over my nose and I slipped into unconsciousness.

When I came to once more, the doctor was sitting beside my bed, scribbling something on a chart. My leg was encased in plaster and suspended above the mattress by a metal frame. "Clean break, Leftenant."

I knew I was groggy from the after-effects of the anesthesia but, "Are you sure you’ve got the right man? I’m not an officer."

He regarded me with a slightly amused twist of his lips. "You are now, soldier. Field commission. Congratulations. And I have every anticipation of your leg healing nicely. There may be a bit of a limp, but you should regain full use of it."

"Thank you, Doctor." I avoided his eyes and patted myself down, searching for a cigarette, only to discover there were no pockets in the get-up they had me in. I sighed and met his interested glance. "I apologize for being testy in the operating room."

"Yes, well, I’m sorry, Leftenant, but an apology does not cut it. You’ll have to do more if you wish to make up for that appalling display." He grinned, and I suddenly realized that he was not as old as I had previously thought, possibly not too much older than I. "Dinner, I think, once you’re able to get around?"

"I’d like that, Dr…?"

"No need to be formal, old chap. Call me Hyde. Well, I must be about my rounds. Try not to make my nurses irritable, will you? I swear they can be more frightening than the Huns!"

I chuckled as I watched him leave the ward, then closed my eyes, wondering how difficult it would be to make love with my leg in a cast.

Hyde invited me to his tent when the doctor who shared it with him was busy in the operating room. He helped me onto his cot and raised my johnny gown. I was rather surprised to find he had already slicked his passage. He coated my shaft and settled himself comfortably on my rigid cock.

As it turned out, it didn’t prove to be a problem at all.

****

The letter found me shortly after the Armistice had been signed. It was in a lilac envelope and smelled faintly of the delicate flowers, and it was from Lady Eugenia, Thomas’s mother.

I shut my eyes against the pain. Thomas was gone. What else would she be writing to tell me?

My hand clenched shut on the elegant paper, crumpling it, while my eyes burned and my throat tightened. I opened my fingers and tried to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles.

"My very dear Lawrence," she wrote. "It saddens me deeply to inform you that Thomas was seriously injured in a skirmish with a German battalion in Africa. His company suffered some casualties, the most devastating of which was the death of RSM Cutter. He gave his life to save Thomas’."

Oh, thank God! He was still alive!

"I have not seen my son yet, as his physicians wanted his condition to be more stable; however he’s coming home via military transport, and you know how quickly they can travel. We anticipate his arrival within the next week."

The next page was spattered with what had to be teardrops. "Oh, Lawrence, he’s lost an eye!" Lost an eye? One of those beautiful, tourmaline eyes? "From what we have been able to gather, it was done by a saber slash. Sergeant Cutter shoved him out of the way and took the second blow that would surely have killed Thomas.

"Please, Lawrence, if it is at all possible, please come to see him…"

I didn’t bother reading the rest of the letter. I went in search of my commanding officer to arrange for a leave.

Part 4

It never changed.

Thomas refused to see me. I was his best friend, I had been his lover, but now he wouldn’t even speak to me.

Add to that the ambivalence of being home for the first time in so long. I was bitter and hurt.

A spot of hunting might lift my spirits. Blowing the head off Peter Rabbit sounded like a notion I could live with right about then.

I handed Monte’s reins to the groom and went to fetch a shotgun. Jack, Father’s favorite liver and white spaniel, bounded excitedly at my feet, and I decided to let him come along.

We tramped over the fields, flushing quail and partridge, which I shot at half-heartedly.

A sudden fog descended on us, and the further away from home we went, the denser it grew.

I began to feel uneasy.

There was the snap in the underbrush in the wood nearby, as if an animal had stepped on a fallen branch. Only, no animal would do that, and the two of us froze. Jack’s floppy ears were cocked, and he listened alertly, his nose raised as he scented the air.

And then his ears were down, his lips curled, and he began to bark, high pitched and frenzied, in challenge to whatever was just out of eyesight.

I started toward the wood, determined to find what was there, and Jack threw himself against my legs. He became almost hysterical in his efforts to keep me away from what he perceived as the danger that lurked there.

The fog made it impossible to get off a clear shot, and the dog’s fear telegraphed itself to me. My gut clenched, my mouth went dry, and I backed away.

Jack obviously approved.

The sounds that tracked us came closer, and now we could hear the low-pitched growls. I didn’t know what kind of creature it could be: there were no wild animals in this part of Kent.

Jack latched onto my trouser leg, trying to pull me further away. I raised the shotgun and fired off a blast.

There was a grunt of pain, and the growl rose to a furious howl. I fumbled with the shotgun, knowing I would never have the time to reload, and I shook so hard I dropped the pellets.

I broke and ran, Jack positioning himself between me and the threat. But the fog made it impossible to know in what direction I was going, and I was hopelessly turned around.

From behind me came an anguished yelp, and I knew that whatever it was had gotten Jack. The gallant dog had been injured trying to save me, and I wouldn’t leave him to face his fate alone. I ducked behind a tree, only then realizing that somewhere along the way I had lost my weapon. I’d have to confront that creature with nothing for defense but my bare hands.

I crept back the way I had come as silently as I could. The fog was like damp, clammy tendrils that stroked across my face, and I shuddered at the touch, barely able to make out my hand in front of me.

My foot caught on a rotted branch, and I went tumbling head first to the ground, landing on something soft and furry and wet: Jack, his head twisted at an unnatural angle, a gaping wound in his neck.

With a low moan, I pushed myself away from the dog’s mangled body. Before I could get to my feet, something came lunging at me, knocking me backwards. Fetid breath clogged my nostrils, and I retched violently.

It backed off and I thought I might be able to escape. I crawled to my knees and tried to scramble away, but jaws closed over my shoulder, clamping down like fiery pincers to secure me. To my horror, I could feel the creature’s prick, hot and hard, probing my trouser-covered arse.

It growled in frustration, and its claws ripped at my trousers, shredding them and giving the thing access to me. Its hips rocked jerkily, stabbing at me, trying to find my anus. When the slim, pointed cock found its goal, it slammed into me and I cried out in shock.

Large paws gripped my waist, forcing me to submit to its assault. Its jaws eased their hold, and its tongue lolled out as it fucked me, drops of its saliva mingling with the blood that oozed from the wound on my shoulder.

To my disbelief, the creature’s penis rubbed continually over that spot inside me, and I found myself growing hard, shivering from the humiliating, unexpected pleasure, powerless under the savage pounding it was giving my back passage.

With one last, powerful thrust, it drove the knot at the base of its prick deep into me and stilled. The knot began to swell, plugging me, stretching me, and then copious spurts of semen poured into my channel, filling me with liquid heat, soothing the abused walls.

The creature rested on my back, holding me motionless. Lazily its tongue licked my bloody shoulder in what was almost a caress. I crouched beneath it, ashamed and yet unbearably aroused.

I wanted to roll over and offer it my unprotected throat, surrendering completely to its will. I wanted to expose my weeping prick to the beast’s slavering mouth, to have its long tongue wrapped around my shaft, licking it, tasting my essence.

But the beast turned its head with a jerk and growled, and pulled sharply out of me. And then I heard what it had heard.

"Larry!" Someone was calling my name, searching for me.

It stood above me on two legs, manlike, as if to challenge whoever approached, and I tried to croak out a warning. "Go back! Please, go back! It will kill you…"

~~~~

"Larry."

"Go back…"

"*Larry*! Come on, pup, wake up! You’re scaring me!" A hand closed over the shoulder that throbbed in time with the blood that flowed to my cock. I reacted without thinking.

I threw myself at him. Growling much as the beast had, I thrust against his groin. The feel of his warm body under me proved to be too much, and I came, gasping as I poured myself over his abdomen.

I sank onto him; my head turned away, air whistling between my lips as I desperately struggled to regain my breath. "Oh, Jesus, Hyde, I’m so sorry!"

"It’s all right, Law." He forced me to look at him, and stroked the hair out of my eyes, his expression concerned. "Another bad dream?"

I sat up, nodding as I cradled my head in my hands.

"It might help to talk about it." He used a corner of the sheet to remove the drying semen, and then offered it to me.

"I doubt it, Hyde."

He knelt up behind me on the bed and dug his fingers into the tense muscles of my neck and shoulders. I rubbed my cheek against the back of one hand. "What would I do without you, doc?"

"You’d do fine, Larry." He tipped my head around and brushed a soft kiss over my lips. "Is it the same nightmare?"

I nodded uncomfortably.

He wrapped his arms around me. "Tell me about it, Law," he urged, but my mind shied away from the disturbing images, unable to face them again.

Instead, my thoughts went back to that time after the war to end all wars had concluded, when I had returned to England.

****

There was no reason for me to remain in the land of my birth, I realized.

Thomas would survive and come to grips with the patch he wore to conceal the damage done his eye. His former commanding officer had come to see him and was closeted with him for a goodly length of time. My friend refused to speak of the outcome to anyone. Even me.

Both Father and John had been involved with the war effort in London, and he had shut up the Abbey, which had fallen into shocking disrepair with no one living there.

Since Father’s intention was to continue his involvement with the government, this would necessitate the taking of a residence in Town, and he saw no reason to leave the house empty. He decided to let it.

My brother John found he preferred living in London as well, and so moved into his own digs, driving out to the Abbey at Father’s request to oversee the work that needed to be done before the first in a series of tenants could move in.

None stayed very long, however, and eventually the lease was taken by a representative of an Egyptian gentleman.

I did some traveling, seeing something of the world. But eventually, after a number of years, I sailed back to Canada.

My position in the architectural firm in which I had worked before I left for France was waiting for me.

As was Hyde, the doctor who had treated me during the war. He returned home to Canada after his discharge from the army to set up practice.

I had no idea his office was just down the road, although after we had been together for a while he told me he had seen me on occasion and was keeping an eye out for an opportunity to renew the acquaintance.

That opportunity arose on the day we ran into each another in the local pub, the day I received another letter from Thomas.

"I’ve found him again, gov!" he wrote from Egypt. He would never tell me what he was doing in that part of the world, but I suspected it was something deep and dark, and to do with the government. "Roddy Sayer! Do you remember me writing to you of him?"

How could I forget, I mused bleakly? I had sat beside Thomas’ bed, taking in the stark paleness of his face, the whiteness of the bandage that hid most of the livid scar that marred the right side of his face.

As I waited for him to regain some sort of coherence, he had rambled on about the courageous young man, about his blue eyes and sun-streaked hair. And about how Thomas had lusted after him, even determining to go so far as to lure the boy into his bed and away from the man who was Sayer’s lover.

That, in spite of the fact that Thomas had a lover of whom he was very fond, to say the least.

I moistened my lips, recalling how Thomas’ body had quivered and wriggled voluptuously, and how he’d moaned, "Please, Archie, please don’t spank me any more! I promise not to interfere!"

I resolved never to let Thomas discover what he had revealed that night. But I rubbed a restless hand over the front of my trousers while I watched over him.

Roddy Sayer was back in my friend’s life, and he was no longer with that old man.

Charlie Allnutt, his partner, who really wasn’t all that old, had died in the desert, where they had been involved in the excavation of the tomb of King Tutankhamun. Apparently he had fallen victim to the curse of the Boy King.

Thomas was going to seize his chance, he wrote, and make the young man his. He had already talked him into returning to England with him.

Hyde entered the pub and spotted me sitting in a corner in the back, a row of empty glasses before me.

"Larry Talbot? Is that you?" His surprise wasn’t a pretense. He told me later that he had followed me into the pub, but hadn’t expected me to have put that much liquor under my belt already. "Er… Good God, man! How simply splendid to see you again! Mind if I join you?"

I did, rather. I just wanted to mourn the loss of my first love in maudlin solitude.

But Hyde ordered a whiskey for himself and sat next to me, the warmth of his thigh radiating through the material of his trousers.

I shrugged and continued to stare broodingly at my last, half empty glass.

"What’s wrong, Law?"

I opened my mouth to snap that nothing was wrong, that my life was absolutely perfect. Instead, the whole story of my youthful love affair with Thomas Fortescue-Smythe came spilling out, ending with how we were separated because my parents could no longer tolerate each other.

The only thing that didn’t come spewing past my unguarded tongue were the details of the last night I spent with Thomas, and how the gypsy had stolen into my room and taken me. I would never tell anyone of that.

Hyde’s hand rested on my knee, and his fingers squeezed it rhythmically. My cock began to take notice.

"My rooms are behind my office, Law. Come spend the night with me."

I struggled to focus my gaze on his face. "My heart belongs to Another!" I told him melodramatically.

"That’s quite all right, pup. Whoever it is can have your heart. I just want your body!"

I went home with Hyde, and I must have enjoyed what he let me do to his body, because shortly afterward, I asked him to move into my digs.

I needed someone in my life, in my bed. Hyde filled the bill.

****

"I say!" He shook my arm gently. "Where did you go? Come on, Law, talk to me!"

He wanted to know about that nightmare. I knew it would be futile to try to avoid his questions.

"It always starts the same way," I began hesitantly. "I’ll be trying to see Thomas, and Lady Eugenia will tell me it’s useless, to just go home, her son isn’t for me."

"Did he really refuse to see you?"

"No," I murmured, confused by that part of the dream. "Although it wouldn’t have mattered if he had. I’d have just barged into his room the way I did and took up a seat at his bedside. And Lady Eugenia never knew we were lovers, either. It must be my subconscious trying to do me in. Anyway, in my dream I ride over to Fortescue Manor."

Hyde interrupted my narrative. "You didn’t drive there?" He shifted on the bed and pulled me down beside him.

"No." I slid my arm over his chest and laid my head over his heart. The rhythmic beating soothed me. "The two properties are too close to go to the bother of taking out an automobile. We always used horses. I rode over on Monte Cristo. You know something, Hyde? After all this time, it still surprises me that Father kept that horse. He was really too small and too old to carry any of us for any length of time."

"You don’t think Sir John kept him because he was your horse?" Hyde wondered.

The thought startled me. "Father would never do that! Oh, maybe if it was John’s, or Harry’s..."

"Why wouldn’t he do that for you? Aren’t you his son, just as much as they?"

"It’s not the same, Hyde." If I mattered that much to him, he never would have let Mother take me away. Would he? I grew uncomfortable with that conversation, and would have turned away from Hyde, but he refused to let me go.

"All right, Law. Go on with your dream."

I was reluctant to dwell on the emotions that had haunted my sleep, the shame and the uncontrollable lust, but even less did I want to discuss my family dynamics with my lover, and so I continued, eventually concluding with the attack by the unseen creature.

I made no mention of the beast’s sexual subjugation of me.

"Well, I must say, that is a strange dream!"

"One for your Sigmund Freud?" Hyde had been reading articles published by the physician who had become the leader in psychoanalysis.

"Perhaps," he murmured. "Perhaps something in the letter you received from England yesterday triggered it off. Every time you hear from home you suffer one of those nightmares."

"Perhaps," I echoed him, reluctant to reveal that the night terrors were now coming with increasing frequency, and seemingly for no reason at all.

Before I could decide whether I should tell him, there was a brisk knock on the front door. "Bugger!" I swore. "I knew I should have taken rooms in a hotel rather than rent this house!"

Hyde tugged on a lock of my hair playfully. "You’d have hated it, Law. And so would I. Think how quiet we’d have to be when we made love!"

"You may have a point," I agreed as I pulled on a dressing gown and went to see who was beating at my door so early in the morning.

The man who stood there regarded me in a bored manner. "Lawrence Talbot?" he asked. When I nodded, he handed me a telegram and waited impatiently while I found some change to tip him.

The last wire I had received had been from my brother, John, informing me that our middle brother, Harry, had been killed in the War. I searched out the signature on this one.

Father. I breathed a sigh of relief and began to read the terse message. And then, "Oh, no!"

"What’s wrong? Bad news, Law?" Hyde had drawn on a pair of trousers, which hung low around his hips, and had followed me into the foyer.

I brushed past him, hurrying to the cupboard that held my valise. I tossed it onto the bed and began to pack. "I must go home. John is dead! And the Abbey has been destroyed!"

Part 5

I found myself wishing there was a faster method of transatlantic travel than ship.

It wasn’t simply because by the time I got to Father’s townhouse in London, John had been buried. Father looked at me with eyes that were bleak and distant, and saw nothing beyond the fact that his heir was six feet under. He had no use for me there, and I turned on my heel and left him in his study with a bottle of Blue Ruin to keep him company.

I needed to be with someone who was actually pleased to see me. I needed to see Thomas.

As it turned out, the ship hadn’t been fast enough. I had just missed him…

Acquaintances I ran into on the street took great pleasure in trying to ferret out the gruesome details of the destruction of the Abbey.

"Talbot! I say, old chap, rum go about the family manse. Hear it was King Tut, striking back from the grave! A-haw, a-haw, a-haw! Is that so?" They were avid in their desire to learn every bit of gossip. It was only as an after thought they they would continue, "Oh, by the by, so sorry about your brother!"

It was the same thing, from every single one of them. The bloody, be-damned bastards!

When I was finally able to escape, I motored down to Kent to assess the damage.

But before I even stopped at Talbot Abbey, I went to Fortescue Manor, to see Thomas. Lady Eugenia was in the front hall when her butler opened the door to me.

Her eyes pooled with tears, and she hurried forward to embrace me. "Lawrence! Oh, I am so very sorry about your brother! What an absolutely dreadful thing!"

To my surprise, I felt my own eyes burn, and I blinked furiously.

"And the beautiful Abbey, destroyed!"

"I’m here to rebuild it, Lady Eugenia. That’s why Father sent for me."

She frowned at the bitterness in my voice, her distress evident that I obviously still believed there would be no other reason my father would want to see me. "I don’t think you give Sir John enough credit, Lawrence. Your father cares about you a great deal."

"Do you think so?" I asked flatly. "It would have been nice if just once he had told me so."

"Ah, Lawrence, don’t make the same mistake he made, holding on to ancient hurts, letting your pride dictate your actions."

"No, m’lady." I didn’t want to quarrel with my friend’s mother. "Is Thomas home? I thought I’d stop by to visit with him before going to see the extent of the damage at the Abbey."

Lady Eugenia shook her head. For one disconcerting moment I thought my nightmares were about to prove prophetic, but instead of refusing to let me see him, she said, "You’ve just missed him!"

"I can return," I assured her, perhaps more eagerly than might have been wise.

She gave my arm a slight shake. "He’s gone to Africa."

"That mysterious job of his in the government?" I asked, trying to lighten the heaviness that settled around my heart. I had been counting on seeing him again.

His mother smiled and looped her arm through mine. "Do come in, dear boy and have a spot of tea with me!" She urged me into the house. "You know he refuses to talk to anyone about that. Well, anyone other than Roddy."

"Roddy? Would that be Roddy Sayer, the young man he met in Kenya?" Now I felt even worse. I had been hoping that that affair would have fizzled.

"Why, yes! How did you know of him?" Before I could respond, she exclaimed, "But of course! Your correspondence with Thomas. Those letters meant so much to him, Lawrence. Thank you!"

"They meant a great deal to me also, Lady Eugenia." More than she would ever know.

She led me to the conservatory at the rear of the house.

I had to smile. Almost every country house in this part of Kent had a conservatory, and it seemed it was always placed somewhere toward the rear of the house. Perhaps that’s why the plans I had drawn up on the voyage home also featured a large, airy room that would be filled with all manner of plants, exotics as well as native, but it would be set to the side, rather than the rear.

"Have a seat, Lawrence, and I’ll pour." She held the tiny cup and saucer with steady fingers. The teapot, in the other hand, was tipped, and she filled the cup with consummate grace.

"How…er…how serious is it with them?"

She regarded me thoughtfully as she offered me the cup, then answered my question with another question. "How long have you been aware of my son’s preferences?"

Did she expect an honest answer? I didn’t think she would welcome me into her home any longer if she learned that I was the one who took her son’s virginity. "Oh, quite some time, m’lady," I murmured vaguely.

Her expression became wry. "I truly wish someone had thought to inform me of this state of affairs. You can’t imagine how embarrassing it was to be throwing girls at Thomas’ head in hopes that he might select one, only to discover that I’d have done better to parade some likely young man before him." She sighed. "Well, the one bright spot is that Bertie had no idea either!"

I had been in the process of sipping my tea when she made that remark, and I choked. "*Bertie*?" He had almost caught us once, and from his cool attitude toward me afterwards, I was positive he knew what was going on between his younger brother and myself.

She took a neat bite out of her cucumber sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "After he married, he became even more of a matchmaker than I! Thomas finally set him straight, and it was rather acrimonious, I believe. My sons have no qualms with discussing their differences at the top of their lungs. But once Bertie met Roddy, he did like him, and seemed to resign himself to the fact that he would never be an uncle. Fortunately, his wife is a good breeder, and they have a number of boys already, so the succession is guaranteed."

At least Thomas was spared the pressure of having to produce an heir. Eventually, Father would realize that it now fell to me to keep the Abbey lands in the family, and he would insist I marry some suitable girl. I shuddered and thrust that worry aside for another time.

"Do you like this young man, Lady Eugenia?"

"Yes, I do. You didn’t know, Lawrence, but there was a time when I feared for Thomas. He was so recklessly careless with his life. I think that’s why he took that position his former commander offered."

I did know, but there was nothing I could have done for my friend. There was nothing he would have allowed me to do. I remained silent.

There was sadness in her eyes before she turned away to reach for her tea. "Losing his eye in that battle, and on top of that his RSM, almost destroyed him." She laid her hand on my knee and leaned closer. "I’ll tell you something, my dear boy. Once I realized how things stood, I was rather hoping he might find Roddy again. The only time he seemed anything like his old self was when he spoke of him."

"Thomas wrote to me from Africa, telling me he wanted to bring young Sayer home with him. You approve then, Lady Eugenia?"

"It’s not the path I would have chosen for him, but then, I’m not the one who will walk that path. Yes, Lawrence, I do approve. Very heartily." Her smile became impish, and I saw her son in her. "Roddy is an absolute delight! I’ll never forget the time he told me he wanted the doctor to see Thomas, because obviously the blow to his head was more severe than had been believed. All that, because Thomas told him he loved him!"

Again I began to sputter as a crumb lodged in my throat. "I beg your pardon?"

She began to explain. "The Egyptian gentleman who let the Abbey threatened Roddy in some manner, which they would never explain to me. Thomas went to issue an ultimatum, and Roddy followed to rescue him. They were wearing the most outlandish get-ups when we found them. My son had been beaten quite severely, but Roddy assured me the men responsible had been shown the error of their ways. Such a typically British understatement, and one I would quite expect from the young man responsible for the sinking of the Louisa!"

"Were those men handed over to the Egyptian authorities for their punishment?"

"I’m sorry, Lawrence, I didn’t make myself clear. No one escaped from the Abbey. They all paid with their lives!"

I was startled by the savage satisfaction in her voice, and wondered how it came about that women were regarded as the weaker sex.

That was how I learned the tales about the destruction of Talbot Abbey were not entirely poppycock.

****

I stepped out of the automobile. Even prepared as I had been by Lady Eugenia, I was still appalled by the extent of the wreckage, which was as thorough as it was inconceivable, and I stared in shocked horror.

The house appeared to have collapsed in on itself, but no one had a reasonable explanation. Oh, the magistrate went on about shoddy workmanship, but those walls had stood for over six hundred years.

As for the firm that my brother John hired to do the repairs on the Abbey, well, I was the one who vetted them, and they were some of the best in the business.

Of course the newssheets had a field day with it, laying the cause of the destruction of my ancestral home to the curse of King Tutankhamun. Lord Carnarvon and Howard Carter had been in the neighborhood as guests of an Egyptian gentleman, and that lent credence to the rumors.

The locals simply looked troubled and refused to speak of it. There was something else going on in that corner of Kent, but it wasn’t until a few years later that it would come knocking on my own door.

####

Note: This is Lady Genie’s POV. Since she had a warm relationship with her husband, m/f is implied.

Part 6

Lawrence Talbot was not an attractive child, but he was lovable.

What a shame his parents were both so lost in the disillusion of what neither was that they could not see that.

****

Sir John Talbot married Helena Ware because he had two small boys who needed a mother, and because of a vague physical resemblance to his first wife. Both women were sturdy, blue-eyed brunettes.

Helena married Sir John because after being ‘out’ a number of years, she feared being relegated to the shelf and becoming an ape leader.

He thought Helena would be biddable and sweet-tempered.

She thought he would be the dashing, older man who would rescue her from a commonplace life back in Canada.

They were both wrong.

****

I was not there when Helena finally delivered the child she had waited ten years to have, but her lady’s maid was, and she told my woman, who in turn told me. There are no secrets, belowstairs.

It had been a difficult pregnancy, and an even more difficult birth.

Sir John looked at the squalling, red-faced infant in the doctor’s arms, touched a gentle finger to the damp head, and raised his eyes to the woman who lay exhausted in the bed he no longer shared with her. Her hair hung in sweaty tangles, and her throat had been screamed raw.

Her glare was venomous. "You have your sons," she rasped, referring to the children of his first marriage, who were away at school. "This one is mine!" She waited until her husband nodded stiffly and left the room, then said, "Let me see him!"

The doctor would have laid her son in her arms, but she recoiled in shocked horror when she saw the misshapen skull. "He’s a monster!"

"No, Lady Talbot, I assure you that the swelling and bruising about the face is quite normal. In a couple of days this will all recede and you’ll think he’s the most beautiful baby in Kent."

"He’s a monster!" she repeated shrilly. "Take him away!"

The doctor frowned and handed the infant to the woman who had been hired as wet nurse, motioning for her to leave quickly. It was his experience with new mothers that sometimes they reacted strangely to their offspring. He’d instruct the wet nurse to bring the baby to her ladyship in a day or so, and they would see what they would see.

In the meantime, he would just drop a word into Sir John’s ear to treat his lady with additional patience.

Everyone knew women were the weaker sex.

****

Sir John had ridden to Fortescue Manor to speak with my husband, Henry. They were in Henry’s study when I waddled by. I was in an interesting condition, and had a short time to go before the birth of my second child. I was feeling decidedly huge.

"Eugenia, would you mind joining us for a moment, my love?"

"Not at all, my dear. What can I do for you charming gentlemen?"

For a moment both men were silent, exchanging glances. I pressed my knuckles into the discomfort that nagged at my lower back, and Henry assisted me to a chair. He helped me maneuver my bulk onto it.

Sir John, who was a good deal older than both Henry and I, stared down his nose at me, but I simply raised an eyebrow and waited patiently for him to speak.

"After John was born, Elizabeth doted on him," he began finally, speaking of his first wife. "Her last act before she died was to place a kiss on Harry’s brow."

"Not every woman reacts to motherhood in the same way."

He nodded impatiently. "That’s what Dr. Cliffe informed me."

"Dr. Cliffe tells every prospective father that," I sighed. "What seems to be the problem, Sir John?"

"I can’t understand Helena’s attitude! She won’t have anything to do with this boy! She almost acts as if she’s…frightened by him!"

"Would you like me to speak with her?"

The poor man looked relieved. "If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Lady Eugenia?"

"Of course not. Henry, why don’t you have Humphrey Coachman bring the dogcart around?"

He smiled at me, and I grew flushed. We’d been married for almost five years, and the man still melted my bones with simply a certain glance or smile. This pregnancy could not come to its conclusion soon enough to suit me.

I kneaded that spot in my lower back harder, then let my fingers trail over Henry’s arm. Color mounted his cheeks, and I returned his smile. It was nice to know I could cause his bones to melt as well.

****

I insisted that Helena get out of bed. Lying in that darkened room would be good neither for her spirits nor her waistline. She pouted, but agreed. "I’ll meet you in the Egyptian salon."

"Very well. But I’m going to the nursery first, to see your son." At one point I could have sailed out of her bedroom, but that day all I could manage was the waddle, and I ignored her objections. A passing maid showed me the way to the baby’s rooms.

Tiny whimpers came from the white and blue wicker cradle that was set up near the window. I crossed the room and gazed down at the little boy.

Dark fuzz covered his head, coming to a marked widow’s peak. He waved his hands and I caught one, admiring the way his grip tightened around one of my fingers. "Such a strong little man!" I murmured. Something drew my attention and I examined them more closely.

The forefinger and middle finger were the same length.

I kissed them and released them, then bent down to brush a kiss over his cheek. His eyes, still the vague blue of newborns, seemed to look into mine. "You will be loved, little one! I promise you!"

I left him and went down the stairs carefully, holding to the banister. The butler was at the foot of the stairs, and he lead me to the small room that was decorated in crocodile-footed furniture, screens with hieroglyphs, vases painted in the Egyptian motif. There was even a mummy case in the corner.

I eased myself down onto an extremely uncomfortable chair and waited for the lady of the manor to deign to put in an appearance. After a few minutes, I had to get to my feet, and I began to pace the room.

Helena finally came in. "I don’t see why I had to come downstairs, Eugenia. We could have spoken just as easily in my room," she sulked.

"Don’t be an ass, Helena. It isn’t healthy to remain in bed so long. Now, why won’t you see your son? He’s perfect."

She turned her face away, distressed in spite of herself. "There’s something about Lawrence…"

"Helena, have you seen him since you gave birth?" I pressed her, and she had the grace to look abashed. "I thought not. Spend time with him. I promise you won’t regret it! Oh!

"Is something wrong, Eugenia?"

"Oh dear! I do believe this baby intends to be born right now!"

****

Dr. Cliffe refused to permit me and my new son to be moved, so we had no choice but to stay at Talbot Abbey.

Thomas shared the cradle with Lawrence. They were both such well-behaved babies, fretting only when we parted them.

When it finally came time for me to return to Fortescue Manor, both boys resented the separation, howling strenuously. Helena was proving not to be very maternal. She looked green, and asked if I minded very much keeping them together, for just a little while.

Sir John was away, and until he could be consulted, Henry had no objections. Lawrence and Thomas were able to remain together for a little longer.

****

When the baronet returned home, he was appalled to find his son had been farmed out to neighbors when the boy’s mother was perfectly capable of caring for him.

He stalked up the front steps of Fortescue Manor, and I had never seen him so angry. His gait was stiff and his face was flushed with fury. "Lawrence is my son, Lady Eugenia! My wife must learn that even if she won’t see to the boy, we have servants who will!"

I was tempted to strike him for his callous attitude, but Henry’s hand on my arm restrained me. And then I chanced to catch a glimpse of Sir John’s face.

As he said, Lawrence was his son. He loved him.

Of course, once Helena realized this, she used every opportunity to drive a wedge between the two. She became almost pathologically possessive of the boy, finding in him the perfect weapon to use against the husband for whom she no longer cared.

"Henry, please, the atmosphere in that house is poisonous! It isn’t healthy for a little boy! Well, it isn’t healthy for the adults, either!"

My husband shook his head, refusing to be swayed by my arguments. "We can’t interfere, my love. As much as we might object to what’s going on at Talbot Abbey, it just isn’t done!"

He was right. It wasn’t the thing to interfere with the way Sir John chose to conduct his household. I chewed my lip. "Will you permit Thomas to invite young Lawrence to visit with us, my dear?"

"Oh, my love, as frequently as you’ll allow. Those two are like Damon and Pythias!"

But eventually, there came a time when the ongoing hostilities between Lawrence’s parents erupted into outright warfare, and Helena took her son back to the country of her birth.

Leaving both boys devastated.

Part 7

Tommy’s POV

Three years away from home, going from one assignment to another. If Roddy hadn’t been given permission to accompany me, I couldn’t have done it.

I wouldn’t have done it.

****

The mission I had been given by my superior in London, the final one, he’d promised, was completed at last, and the report had been couriered to him.

Before returning home to England, Roddy and I had taken the train to South Africa, and then rode the rest of the way on horseback to the property that belonged to my lover. It had taken us quite some time to visit the diamond mines that were scattered over the uninspired landscape. It was an exhausting, dirty journey that included meetings with the managers who oversaw those mines.

But it was finally over. All I wanted now was to settle down and raise horses in Kent with Roddy Sayer, the man I loved, and who had been my lover for the past six years.

Roddy was out booking our passage, and I hoped that soon we would start on our way home. I was too weary to do more than retrieve our mail from the front desk and take the rattletrap elevator to the third floor of our hotel.

I fitted the key in the lock and entered our room. With a deep groan I stretched out on the bed, letting the soft mattress mold itself to my form. I slid a nail under the flap of an envelope that was postmarked from Fortescue Manor. I tried to concentrate on the words from Mother, but I couldn’t get much passed the opening sentences. My eye drifted shut and I dozed off.

****

"Tommy."

I drowsily opened my eye, looked up from where I was reclining on the bed and smiled at Roddy. The love on his face never failed to move me, causing the breath to catch in my throat, and my heart to actually stutter in my chest.

Out of all the people in the world, this man had chosen me to love. Even the black patch that concealed the ruin that was my right eye never daunted him.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" I asked softly.

"Not today, sweetheart. I’m starting to feel neglected!" His expression was easy and warm. The sight of his eyes wandering over my body, stripping the clothes from me, still had the power to leave me trembling with desire. And then he noticed the letter in my hand. "Bad news, Tommy?"

"Just Mother catching me up on news from back home."

"How is Lady Genie?"

"She’s doing well, love. Do you know, you’re the only one she allows to call her that?"

He frowned and removed his hat and jacket, hanging them on the coat tree in the corner. "Should I not then, Tommy?"

I crooked my finger at him and he approached me with a lazy grin, pausing by the bed to rest one knee beside me on the mattress.

He was still grinning when I reached up and snagged his tie, using it to pull him down to me. Before he could do more than utter a soft, "Oh!" I had my arms wrapped around him, and I swung him across my lap.

I bent over him and captured his mouth. His fingers threaded through my hair, following the contours of my skull. The needy sounds he made went straight to my cock. And I blessed the old man who had been Roddy’s first lover, who had been generous and caring and who had taught him it was permissible to be vocal in his enjoyment.

Of course, Charlie Allnutt really hadn’t been that old. No older, I imagine, than Archie Cutter, my own lover.

Archie had also been my RSM. Because we were both military, our lovemaking had been done in silence.

In the end, the last thing I had heard from Archie was his roar of outrage as he attacked the Hun who had swung his saber at me, costing me my eye. Archie took the blow that would have killed me, driving his bayonet into the gut of his opponent at the same time. I survived, with a great, gaping wound where my heart should have been.

"You’re thinking of Archie, aren’t you, sweetheart?"

I shook myself and smiled apologetically. "I’m sorry, Roddy."

He caught my earlobe between his thumb and forefinger and tugged it gently. "No need to be, Tommy. I would never begrudge you thoughts of him. He gave his life to save yours, and if he hadn’t, I truly would have been alone after Charlie died."

"So, you’re not jealous of Archie?"

"No more than you are of Charlie," he murmured archly, and I sighed, knowing I had lost another round. Roddy moved his legs off my lap and settled himself beside me, resting his head on my chest. "Of course, if Archie was still alive, I’d have to challenge him to a duel for you."

"You would?" I had wanted Roddy since I had first seen him, sopping wet and staggering out of the Lake after the sinking of the German steamship, Konigin Louisa. I’d have attempted to steal him away from Allnutt, but Archie saw the way I was eyeing the young man.

That was when I was still so full of myself, thinking the world owed me my fondest desires.

In his most official voice, he told me he had dispatches that needed to be seen to in my tent. Once in there, he had lowered the flap, lowered my trousers and proceeded to give me a hiding.

The normal hustle and bustle of the camp disguised the sound of the spanking my lover was administering. "That’s a happy pair, Thomas! You will not interfere!"

I’d been so randy from the feel of his calloused palm on my naked arse that he’d barely had time to prepare my hole before I was backing onto his cock and taking it deep within me, letting him fuck me to a shattering climax.

"You’re thinking of the time Archie spanked you, aren’t you, Tommy?"

I frowned at him. "What gives you that idea?" I huffed. And then I gasped as he rubbed the heel of his hand firmly over the bulge in my trousers. "You know me too bloody well, Roddy Sayer!"

He flipped himself over onto my legs and scooted down, his fingers nimble on the buttons of my fly. Roddy parted the placket and carefully took my cock out. I was already fully engorged from the thoughts of that earlier time, and he dipped his head forward and licked the tip of my arousal with a broad swipe of his tongue.

"I love the way you taste, have I ever told you that, sweetheart?" He planted tiny kisses along the thick vein that ran under my shaft. "I love the way you feel." He blew a breath that ruffled the wiry hairs that covered my balls. "I love you, Tommy."

And my cock was engulfed by the wet heat of his mouth. My lover’s head moved smoothly up and down and I shuddered at the exquisite sensations. Whenever he did this, I could never last long, and I did want to this to last. I opened my eye resolutely, determined to distract myself with thoughts of England.

But Roddy wasn’t having any of that. He released my cock and ran a finger over the weeping tip. As he swallowed me again, that finger found its way between my arse cheeks and started teasing my anus, dipping in shallowly.

I bucked up into his mouth one more time, and began to spill myself into his throat.

It took me some time to catch my breath. "You didn’t come, love," I breathed.

"You weren’t paying attention, sweetheart." I could hear the smile in his voice. He took my hand and pressed it to the front of his trousers. They were damp, and I recalled the rapid friction of his lower body against my thigh.

"You’re right, and I’m sorry. I love when you ride me like that, it makes my climax even better!"

He rolled over onto his back and sighed happily. "We can do it again, if you feel that bad about it, Tommy. I wouldn’t mind."

"You’re a scamp, you know that, Roddy? And I love you more than life itself!"

"You do have a way with words, Captain Smythe!"

"Don’t you think you ought to get out of those trousers before you catch a chill?" I asked.

"Actually, I’m going to take a bath. Why don’t you read that letter to me while I’m in the tub?"

I watched as he skinned out of his clothes and padded into the adjoining bath. That was one thing I had insisted upon when finding a hotel. With the number of times we made love to each other, I didn’t want my lover having to traipse down the hall, or worse still, down the stairs and out into the back yard, to use the facilities.

"I can’t hear you," he sing-songed as he turned the water on.

"Pushy get, aren’t you, love? I was imagining you all naked in that bath!"

"Oh, in that case…" Roddy draped himself against the doorframe, and gave me a come hither look. He laughed when I tossed a pillow at him.

I tucked my cock away and did up my trousers, then went to join him in the bathroom. He was just climbing into the tub, the silver chain and pendant he was never without sliding over to snag on an erect nipple.

My hand went to the similar chain that hung under my shirt, and my fingers closed over it. We didn’t wear wedding rings, but we wore those.

The lid on the commode was down, and I seated myself on it, tilting my head to one side. I found when I was tired that I tended to lose perception in my left eye, and it became a trifle difficult for me to read.

"Come join me, sweetheart. Let the heat of the water soak away your fatigue."

"You just want me in that tub with you!"

"Well, yes, that’s true." The smile he gave me was tender. "Will you join me?"

"Have I ever refused you anything, love?" I stood up and gave him the letter, then quickly shed my clothes.

Roddy kept the letter from getting damp as I stepped into the tub and sank down before him. Once I was comfortably settled against his chest, he handed it back to me. Even though I assured him I had no objection to him reading any mail addressed to me, well, as long as it wasn’t from a certain address in London, he steadfastly refused.

I imagined it must have been his Methodist upbringing. Being the younger brother of a missionary cannot have been much joy. He rarely spoke of his childhood, except, perhaps to tell me some tale guaranteed to make me laugh.

Roddy’s lips wandered over the curve of my shoulder to my neck. "A penny for them, sweetheart," he whispered.

"Sorry, love. Just a bit foggy. You do have that way with you!" I snapped out the paper, finally able to focus, and began to read.

"My dear Thomas,

"First let me assure you that I am well, as are all our people.

"Lawrence has been overseeing the rebuilding of Talbot Abbey, and it is now finally completed, but it has been a very difficult time. The first year was exceptionally hard, with a number of the workers being horribly killed.

"Things were better for a time, but I regret to tell you that the deaths have started again. Colonel Montford, the Chief Constable, is looking into them. The gypsies have returned, and of course the rumors are once again running wild.

"Lawrence has become gaunt, and that limp of his from the war has returned to plague him. He’s taken to using a silver-headed walking stick he purchased from Jenny Williams’ little shop in the village.

"Thomas, please come home as soon as possible.

"A hug and a kiss to you, my dearest son, and to Roddy, the son of my heart."

I was shaking so hard the water splashed over the side of the tub.

"Roddy…"

"Yes, sweetheart. We’ll leave first thing in the morning."

####

Note: I mentioned at the start of this that I’d taken liberties. I’m doing it again. Those familiar with the movie know that Jennie Williams dies in an attack by the werewolf. Not this time. Needful Things was created by Stephen King, but the name of the shop got to me, and since Jennie will be selling things you don’t realize you need until you see them, I thought it was apropos. Upper Uncton is from the Married…With Children The England Show episodes.

And for those who care about these things, there is an insinuation of m/f.

Part 8

I had thought that returning to England, to the place where I grew up, would bring an end to the nightmares that plagued me, nightmares filled with blood and pain and fear. And something else, as well.

Something dark. And hot.

I thought wrong.

****

It was a bad summer, that summer we started rebuilding Talbot Abbey. A number of workers were found dead, their bodies savagely mutilated. No one went out after dark. Doors and windows were barred, and a certain local gunsmith let it be known that if a customer would provide the metal, he would create the bullets: silver bullets.

Of course, it was all nonsense.

****

The gypsies, who had been welcomed on Talbot land since the very first baronet, moved on. I sat on my horse and watched from a distance as their gaily-colored caravans rolled down the dusty road. A pall of disquiet had hung over me like a cloud that summer, and it dissipated the further away they went.

But I knew that eventually, they would return to Kent.

****

I was aware Father had a penchant for astronomy, but somehow I never realized the extent until I went to the warehouse where most of the Abbey’s furnishings had been stored and found his telescope.

It was a beautiful piece of equipment, with brass fittings that had been handsomely worked. I decided on the spur of the moment that I would surprise Father by including an observatory in the restored Abbey.

It was almost completed at that point, however, and the cost to tear out some walls and redo them completely in glass would have been prohibitive.

But there was a flat stretch of roof that was accessible through one of the gabled attics. I made my way up to that part of the roof. The expanse of sky visible from that spot seemed to stretch on forever, and the view at night would be breathtaking. Off in the distance, I could just make out the church spire and rooftops of the village.

This would be perfect.

I gave orders for the men to frame out the room, deciding I would also need to find some way for the ceiling to open with the throw of a switch. As I limped down the stairs and got behind the wheel of my Aston Martin I was busy trying to determine the number of glass sheets I’d need to order to encase this room. I drove into the village to see George Twiddle, who was the village’s glazier.

As I drove down the cobblestoned main street of Upper Uncton, my eye was caught by a decidedly intriguing sight. Outside Jennie Williams’ shop, Needful Things, a young man, his back to me, was sweeping the walk. As he bent low to examine something on the pavement, the material of his trousers pulled snugly over his buttocks, emphasizing their taut swell. I just avoided driving the Aston Martin into the wall of the building.

I swallowed hard and carefully maneuvered my automobile to the side of the road. The glass could wait.

"Hello, there," I called as I got out of the vehicle and approached the owner of that delectable arse, to get a shock.

"Mr. Talbot? Oh, my! How very nice to see you again!"

"*Jennie*?" I could get nothing beyond her name out of my mouth. It had been a long time since I had buried my shaft in a warm, willing body, and I had gone from flaccid to erect in a split second. I was very disappointed to realize that erection would not be put into effect.

She blushed. "You noticed I was wearing trousers, didn’t you? I know it’s not the thing, but the shop needed such a going over; I’ve found that trousers are so much more comfortable when I must do that kind of work. And then I’ve always been a bit of a hoyden, I’m afraid!"

"Er, yes, I seem to remember you always preferred them. Well, you look very dashing in those trousers, I must say, Miss Williams."

Her blush deepened. "How kind of you to say so. Would you like to come into the shop, Mr. Talbot? I set the tea to steeping while I swept the walk."

"Thank you. I’d like that very much." I would? I began to question my sanity? I had known Jennie Williams to say hello to, but nothing more. After all, she was village, and her parents would never have allowed her to mix with the landed gentry.

I followed her into the cool dimness of Needful Things. She led me past the curtained doorway to the living quarters at the rear of the shop.

"Please, Mr. Talbot, won’t you take a seat? How do you take your tea?"

"Two lumps, please?" I watched as she dropped the sugar cubes into a mug of tea and slid it across the table to me. Unable to tear my eyes from the high, angular cheekbones, I sighed and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. She would have made a very pretty boy!

We chatted easily of this and that, but eventually I caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall.

"Oh! Look at the time! I must be off! Thank you for giving me tea, Jennie." I felt a twinge of regret at having to leave. Aside from being the owner of that tight, boyish arse, she was also a pleasure to talk to. "I need to stop by George Twiddle’s to order glass for the Abbey."

"Yes, I’ve heard you’re rebuilding." She looked wistful.

"Would you care to come up and see it sometime? It would be no problem!"

Her face lit up. "You wouldn’t mind?"

"Not at all. Let me know when would be a good time, and I’ll come pick you up!" I got to my feet and staggered.

Jennie noticed how I was favoring my right leg, but she refrained from asking me about it, unlike everyone else in the village.

So I told her. "A bullet in the Great War broke my leg, and it’s developed a tendency to pain me every now and again."

"I’ve got just the thing for you!" She hurried into the shop, leaving me to follow slowly.

On her knees this time, that tempting rump was once more raised high, wriggling as she searched for something, and I gritted my teeth. I had only just succeeded in battling down my arousal, and now my unruly flesh was bent on displaying its interest again.

"Here it is!" She sat back on her heels and exhibited her trophy. It was a walking stick fashioned from ebony. But it was the handle that was matchless, instantly drawing the eye. Crafted from beaten silver, it was in the shape of a wolf’s head.

"Jennie!" I breathed. There was something about it that called to me. I had to own it. "This is exquisite!"

"I can make you a deal on it, if you’re interested."

I ran my hand over the smooth wood. "Name your price, Jennie! The Abbey? My first born?"

"Nothing so dramatic, Lawrence." She chuckled, a deep, rich sound, and mentioned a figure that was reasonable. I reached for my wallet. She accepted the bills and tucked them into a trouser pocket.

I strolled toward the door, testing my new walking stick. Jennie walked beside me.

"It’s been good seeing you again, Jennie."

I got into the automobile, watching her through the rear view mirror. She waved me off, and I drove on to the glazier’s shop to place my order.

****

The house was finally finished. Father would be motoring down to see it for the first time. I was so nervous I had bitten my fingernails down to the quick.

"Lawrence, you’re a talented architect!" Lady Eugenia assured me as she instructed the men in the placement of the furniture Father had put into storage once he decided to let the Abbey. She had a memory like a steel trap. I never would have remembered where each piece was supposed to go. "No, no! That console table goes against the far wall. Yes, that’s much better!"

"But…"

She gave my arm a shake, just as she would do when I was a small boy, and I smiled at the memory, momentarily soothed. "Your father will appreciate what you’ve accomplished here. And he’s going to love the observatory you’ve built for him!"

"Yes, M’lady." I was back to worrying a thumbnail.

"Now, go put some sticking plasters on your fingers before you bleed all over Sir John!"

"Yes, M’lady."

****

The Rolls Royce Silver Ghost came to a stop in the circular drive. Andrews, the family chauffeur, hurried around to open the door for my father, who climbed out stiffly. It suddenly occurred to me that he was no longer a young man, and must be feeling his age.

Father turned and extended his hand, and a shapely, silk-clad leg emerged. He assisted the young woman to whom the leg was attached out of the automobile.

She was breathtaking, if that was the way your preferences ran, with glossy hair that tumbled over her shoulders in a cascade of fair curls. Her flirty skirt settled just below her knees, and the neat jacket emphasized her lush curves.

"Lawrence!" He hailed me as I stood in the doorway, waiting for him to approach. The young woman looped her arm through his, and together they sauntered up the walk.

"Father." I limped down the steps to greet them, leaning heavily on the silver-headed walking stick.

He eyed my stance briefly before turning to his companion. "This is my son, Gwen. Lawrence, this is Gwen Conliffe. She’ll be staying at the Upper Uncton Arms. I wanted you to meet her before I had Andrews drive her on to the village."

I extended my hand. "Miss Conliffe."

"Mr. Talbot."

"Oh, come, you’re both being much to formal! Gwen and Lawrence! I insist!"

We stood there uncomfortably, not knowing what to say.

Father frowned at me. "I’m sure Gwen would enjoy a tour of the Abbey."

We spoke at the same time.

"Of course…"

"Oh, I couldn’t impose…"

"Nonsense, Gwen. This is the first time I’ve been down since Lawrence starting restoring the Abbey, and I’m most eager to see what my son has accomplished. This appears to be a duplicate of the original façade." I couldn’t tell if that pleased him or not. "Come along!" He took her arm and hustled her into the front hall.

I followed more slowly, letting the walking stick bear most of my weight.

What was Father up to?

And suddenly a suspicion began nibbling at the corners of my brain. As his heir, the only way for the succession to be assured would be if I produced an heir myself.

To produce an heir, I would need a wife.

Was Miss Conliffe Father’s idea of a suitable candidate for that position?

Part 9

Jennie’s POV

When I was sixteen, my whole world changed.

There was a young man who lived a few doors down from us in the village of Upper Uncton. I had been watching him whenever he wasn’t looking, and more than anything I wanted to attend the local dance with him.

He was walking out with a girl from Lower Uncton however, one who was soft and pink and who shuddered delicately whenever she saw me pass by in my trousers.

I wanted to punch her on the nose.

I had to know if there was any chance I could attract his attention, so I climbed out of my window, which was at the rear of our house. No one saw me, and I made my way to the gypsy camp on Talbot land.

There was only a half moon that night, its light partially veiled by the scudding clouds that floated fitfully through the night sky, but it was enough to illuminate the path before me.

The old woman, Maleva, regarded me thoughtfully when I slipped into her tent long after everyone else had gone, and for a moment I was afraid she would refuse to read my future.

But she seated herself with a sigh. "I have been waiting for you, my child. Show me your palm."

I sat down and thrust my hand before her, almost bouncing in my seat with excitement as I waited for her to tell me what lay in store for me.

She regarded me with sorrowful eyes, reluctant to reveal what she saw in my palm, but being young and headstrong, I pressed her.

Gypsies always foretold true love and long lives.

Instead, what Maleva had to tell me left me white-faced and shaken, the young man completely forgotten.

I rose from the makeshift chair and backed away from her. "No! That can’t be true!" My voice was almost shrill.

"My child…"

"No!" I repeated. I didn’t want to hear more and wheeled, hurrying from the camp. All the long way home I had the nagging feeling that someone…that some*thing* was following me.

The sweat of fear began to roll down my spine, and I increased my pace. I glanced anxiously over my shoulder, hoping to see someone I knew returning home, but of course no one was about at that time of night.

Behind me was the snap of twigs as if they were being stepped upon, the rustle of bushes as they were pushed aside.

My nerves overcame me, and I broke into a terrified run, but before I could gain the safety of home, an arm reached out and snagged my waist. I was thrust up against a tree, and hot breath feathered the hair that pulled loose from the string that kept it out of my eyes.

A hard, masculine body pressed against mine, and I could feel his cock nudging the vee of my thighs. His tongue licked the side of my throat, and long teeth bit gently at the spot where my neck and shoulder joined. My hands came up to push him away, but the texture of the fur vest he wore turned the push to a caress. I threaded my fingers through the long strands, its softness teasing my palms. Suddenly I wanted to tear open my shirt and feel that fur sift over my nipples. His fingers rubbed along the inseam of my trousers, pressing the rough material against my woman’s flesh, and I moaned and rocked into his touch. Lost to all sense of propriety, I would have shed my clothes and let him have me.

As I reached for the buttons, the light went on in the house, and a window slammed up. "Jennie? Good God, girl, what’s going on out there? What are you doing?" The voice grew panicky. "Who’s that with you?"

The sound of the shotgun being cocked was loud in the still autumn night.

My lover stepped back from me, and I felt bereft. "Don’t go!" I pleaded.

He growled softly and vanished in the shadows.

"Take me with you!"

But I was alone.

I skinned up the trellis outside my bedroom window and swung into the security of my home. But it was a false security. My father was waiting for me there.

"Who did you go out to meet?"

"No one, Da, I swear! I just walked to get my fortune told!"

"You were with a gypsy?" He backhanded me across the mouth. "You’re a slut, Jennie Williams, and I’ll not have you bringing disgrace on this family!"

"No, Da!"

My mother stood in the doorway and watched as he beat me.

I lay fully clothed on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, the gypsy’s words reverberating in my head.

Violence. Terror. Death. This was my future. I rolled over to spare my sore ribs.

The next morning, they sent me away, and it would be many years before I returned.

****

"Hello there!"

That seductive tone arrowed directly between my legs. I straightened up, surreptitiously rubbing my thighs together. "Mr. Talbot?" I grinned happily. "Oh, my! How very nice to see you again!"

"*Jennie*?" The shock in his voice was so apparent I would have laughed if it hadn’t saddened me.

I could feel myself blush as his eyes wandered over my lower body. "You noticed I was wearing trousers, didn’t you? I know it’s not the thing, but the shop needed such a going over; I’ve found that trousers are so much more comfortable when I must do that kind of work. And then I’ve always been a bit of a hoyden, I’m afraid!"

"Er, yes, I seem to remember you always preferred them. Well, you look very dashing in those trousers, I must say, Miss Williams."

"How kind of you to say so." Was it possible for me to blush any harder? I grew annoyed with myself. I was a grown woman now, and could dress and do as I pleased. The success I had made of my little shop, Needful Things, assured that. When I first returned to Upper Uncton upon the death of my parents, I had found the business to be barely thriving. But I had learned much while in exile, and determined to use my knowledge to see that I lived independently and well. "Would you like to come into the shop, Mr. Talbot? I set the tea to steeping while I swept the walk."

"Thank you. I’d like that very much." I don’t know which of us was more surprised.

He followed me into the back of the shop, where I lived now, and I could feel an almost palpable caress to my backside, but when I turned to glance at him, his eyes were on my face.

"Please, Mr. Talbot, won’t you take a seat? How do you take your tea?"

I dropped the two lumps of sugar into the steaming liquid and passed it to him, then poured my own mug and added a dollop of honey.

I always liked Lawrence Talbot and his friend, Thomas Fortescue-Smythe. They had never made fun of me because I preferred trousers to skirts, and in spite of the seven year age difference, they always said hello to me.

Before long we were Jennie and Lawrence. He spoke of his life in Canada, and how desperately he had missed Kent. I told him about the years I had spent away from Upper Uncton.

"Why did you leave, Jennie?"

I looked away, unwilling to bring up that unhappy time. Of course, I had long dismissed the gypsy’s words, deeming them to be nothing more than nonsense to frighten an impressionable girl.

Lawrence realized how uncomfortable I was, and glanced up at the wall clock. "Oh! Look at the time! I must be off! Thank you for giving me tea, Jennie. I need to stop by George Twiddle’s to order glass for the Abbey."

"Yes, I’ve heard you’re rebuilding." The Abbey had been one of the most stately homes in the county, and I regretted never having been within it.

"Would you care to come up and see it sometime? It would be no problem!"

"You wouldn’t mind?"

"Not at all. Let me know when would be a good time, and I’ll come pick you up!" His leg seemed unable to bear his weight, and he nearly stumbled.

I watched as he recovered, deliberately keeping my expression blank. It was not my business. I made it a point never to listen to village gossip.

Nevertheless, he told me what happened. "A bullet in the Great War broke my leg, and it’s developed a tendency to pain me every now and again."

"I’ve got just the thing for you!" I’d come across a number of walking sticks on my searches to find stock for Needful Things, oak, hawthorn, teak, with handles that were quite functional. My clientele were rather unremarkable, and preferred the commonplace.

But there was one stick… Somehow it had wound up beneath a chest of drawers. I went down on my knees to pull it out, aware that Lawrence was behind me. Perversely, I added a little extra wiggle to my backside before I settled on my heels, and then had the grace to be ashamed of myself.

"Here it is!" I held it up, a lustrous ebony stick with a silver wolf’s head as the handle.

"Jennie! This is exquisite!" His hands fondled the hard wood, and I found myself mesmerized by those long fingers.

I could see he wanted it. That was the way with things in this shop. People would wander in, drawn for no particular reason, and idly examine the contents. Something would catch their eye and they had to have it.

I didn’t want to fleece Lawrence Talbot, although I could have. He offered the Abbey or his first born, and I had to chuckle. "Nothing so dramatic, Lawrence." I named a figure that had him reaching for his wallet.

He paced toward the door, his hand fitted around the wolf’s head, and it seemed to bear his weight comfortably.

I walked him out to his Aston Martin and watched as he climbed behind the wheel.

"It’s been good seeing you again, Jennie."

It would be good to see even more of him. I had not had a lover since returning to Upper Uncton, and Lawrence was very attractive.

It would be just my luck if he preferred men.

Part 10

I stared down at the letter in my hand. It was from Hyde Livingston, the doctor I had been living with in Canada, and whom I had left behind when I’d been obliged to return home.

When I first arrived in England, we had corresponded religiously. He had even suggested shutting down his practice and moving across the pond to be close by. Very carefully, I had not responded to that, and so nothing came of it.

After that, the letters began falling off.

How long had it been since I’d last written to Hyde? I scrubbed at my face and tried to recall, but couldn’t.

Not that it mattered. It seemed Hyde was writing me off. The words swam on the page, and then settled themselves.

"I’m sorry, Law. I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve waited and waited.

"I’m not waiting any longer." He signed it as he usually did, with a great, slashing H.

It looked as if I had demolished another love affair. Not that I could have done anything about the love I had borne Thomas Fortescue-Smythe. We had been too young, and events conspired against us. Although sometimes I wondered. If Mother hadn’t taken me to Canada…If Thomas hadn’t joined the army… If Roddy Sayer hadn’t come into his life…

"Lawrence!"

I turned wearily and stared at my father. For someone who was looking at the other side of seventy, he was awfully energetic. Except when he was matchmaking. Then he became the epitome of frailty and decrepitude.

"Yes, Father?"

"I’ve invited Gwen for tea."

My mouth tightened. He’d been trying to throw us together for the last two months. "I’m sorry, Father, you’ll have to entertain Miss Conliffe yourself. I have an appointment I cannot put off."

He frowned and glared at me from under his brows. I left him there before he could call me a liar.

He would have been correct, but I had no intention of marrying the young woman he had chosen simply because she would have been ideal for my brother John.

The only telephone in Talbot Abbey was in my father’s study. When he learned I had planned to have other rooms in the house wired, he became mulish and refused to permit it, stating it was still his house, thank you very much, Lawrence, and he was still very much alive. When he was buried, then I could do what I pleased with the pile.

I ground my teeth in frustration.

The study was darkly paneled, although only a week before Father arrived the walls had been covered in pine. He had taken one look at the bright, pleasant room and sneered.

"It’s too light. I’ll never get any work done in here!"

"But Father…"

"No. I want it the way it was! I want this ripped out and cherrywood put in."

And of course my supplier had an enormous amount in stock. No one wanted such dark paneling any more, it wasn’t in style, but I could not convince my father of that.

I limped into the room, overcome by gloom the moment I crossed the threshold. I curled my lip at the shadows that seemed to fill each corner, and crossed to the large, dark alder desk.

The operator responded when I picked up the receiver. "Number, please."

"Tess, this is Lawrence Talbot. Can you connect me with Needful Things?"

"Jennie Williams’ shop? Certainly, Mr. Talbot. One moment, please."

After a minute, the connection was made, and I heard Jennie’s warm contralto. "Needful Things."

"Jennie…"

"Miss Williams, I have a call from Mr. Lawrence Talbot."

I fumed silently while Jennie said, "Thank you, Tess. I’ll take it."

As soon as the operator disconnected, Jennie burst into laughter. "I’m sorry, Lawrence, but you should be used to this!"

"I know," but I was disgruntled. Tess insisted on announcing me every blasted time! "Listen, Jennie, would you be able to take tea with me?"

"I’d love it, Lawrence. Would you like to come here?" We’d been seeing a good deal of each other since I first saw her in Upper Uncton, and she often made me tea in the back of her shop.

"No, I want to take you to this little inn I know of near Tunbridge Wells. I can pick you up in the Aston Martin in say, three quarters of an hour?" That would make it almost three o’clock, and we could be at the inn by teatime.

"Do I need to fear for my reputation, Lawrence?" I could hear the smile in her voice.

"You never have to fear me, Jennie," I told her earnestly.

"I know, dammit!" Her words were teasing. "I’ll get rid of these customers and run a comb through my hair." And now they were almost caressing.

"Er, Jennie, would you be upset if I asked you to wear trousers?"

"Not at all, Law. That’s all I have in my closet. Ta for now."

"Ta." I swallowed hard as I hung up the telephone. The last person…the only person to call me ‘Law’ was Hyde.

But Hyde…

Determinedly, I pushed him from my mind. I had other things to worry about.

Father was pressuring me more and more to marry, claiming he wanted to see me settled with a wife and nippers before he shuffled off this mortal coil. I knew from my one experience in my youth that I could get aroused enough to penetrate a woman, which would be necessary for me to father a child.

Gwen Conliffe literally left me limp. I could never get a child on her.

But Jennie Williams… I liked her, and while I still regretted that she wasn’t a man, she did have the most delectable arse I had yet to see on a woman.

I also knew Jennie found me attractive, I could tell by the way her eyes would linger on my body when she thought I wasn’t looking.

Could I convince her to let me make love to her? And if I was successful, could I convince her to marry me?

****

Jennie was wearing a pair of men’s dress slacks that looked exceedingly fetching on her. They molded over the curve of her arse, and my unruly cock grew hard.

She glanced over her shoulder to find my eyes glued to her derriere. "Lawrence, you naughty scamp. Are you undressing me with your eyes?"

I smiled at her ruefully. "I beg your pardon, Jennie. But I do like the way you fill those trousers."

She got into the passenger seat and I shut the door for her. "Let me be perfectly honest with you, Lawrence," she said as I climbed behind the wheel and put the vehicle in gear. "I like you very much. I’m not adverse to having an affair with you, if that’s what this tete a tete is about."

"But…?"

Jennie looked startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"It sounded as if you were about to add a ‘but’."

Her lips tightened, and she kept her gaze on the passing scenery. A hot blush covered her cheeks. "You’re correct, of course. The ‘but’ is that I don’t think you’ll want to have sex with me once you see me naked." She ran her hand through the short cap of white-blonde curls that covered her head. "I look like an adolescent boy, Law. No hips, no breasts, no …curves to speak of!"

There was that nickname again, but this time it didn’t seem to rip at me. I was starting to like the way it sounded on her lips. "That isn’t a detraction, as far as I’m concerned, Jennie. Would you let me make love to you?"

The sound of her breath catching in her throat was audible over the purr of my engine. I risked a quick look, but she didn’t appear angry.

As I turned the Aston Martin onto the road that would take us to Tunbridge Wells, warm fingers slid over my thigh to cup the flesh between my legs. My cock jumped and hardened, and I groaned.

My left foot stamped down on the clutch, and the engine whined in protest. "Je…Jennie," I groaned. "Stop! I’ll crash the car!"

She gave my cock a last squeeze. "I think this fine gentleman would rather you wrecked the car than that I stop!" she teased, and I growled in agreement.

"Don’t tempt me, please! We’re almost there!"

Jennie leaned close to me, cupped my cheek, and drew it toward her to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "You’re so sweet, Lawrence!"

"I’m not sweet, Jennie. I’m… I’m the worst sort of man for you to know. I need to talk to you, my dear." There was no one in the car park when I pulled into it. I parked the sporty little vehicle and faced her.

Jennie’s expression flattened, and anger began to flare in her beautiful golden-brown eyes. "You don’t want to see me anymore. Because I touched you. Because I wear trousers. Because I’m not pretty. Because…"

"Jennie, shut up! It has nothing to do with you! I think you’re very pretty, and I like you in trousers, very much indeed!" She subsided and I took a deep breath. "There’s something you need to know about me. I like… I like men."

"What has that to say about anything? I like… Oh. You like men!"

I could feel my face burn. Sharp as a tack, was Jennie Williams. One of the reasons I enjoyed her company so much. Well, that and her sweet arse. "That’s behind me now, Jennie, I promise you. I must marry and have an heir. Would you…would you consider being my wife? I’m very fond of you," I hastened to assure her, "and I think we would rub along together tolerably well. And eventually, you’d be the wife of a baronet!"

"Lawrence! I thought we were friends! As if I cared a fig about social position!"

I shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel. "I beg your pardon, Jennie. We are friends. It’s just that, since I must marry, I’d at least like the lady to be someone I could like." I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "Jennie…" I tried to apologize.

She was laughing softly. "It’s all right, Law, I understand. But oh, my! You’ve taken me by surprise!"

"Will you at least think about it, before refusing me outright?"

Her eyes were bright with interest. "Very well, Law. I just have one request, though."

"Certainly, Jennie."

"Will you feed me? I’m famished!"

"Of course!" I ran around to Jennie’s side to open the door for her. She took the arm I offered her, and we entered the quaint little inn.

Mr. Nidd, the publican, came bustling forward. "Mr. Talbot, I have your table waiting!" He smiled at Jennie. "This way, Miss."

We followed him to a table at the rear of his inn. I seated Jennie and took the chair opposite her.

"I’ll bring your tea straight away, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Nidd." I said nothing more until our meal had been served to us. "We’ll need some honey, if you don’t mind, Mr. Nidd."

The smile on Jennie’s face was enough to light up the room. "Oh, Law, how sweet of you to remember!" She raised the teapot and poured carefully, handing me my cup. "Thank you," she murmured as the innkeeper placed the pot of honey at her elbow.

"Actually bringing your nancy boys out in public now, Talbot?"

My cup tipped and I narrowly avoided a lapful of hot tea. I glared at the man standing behind Jennie and started to rise, more than willing to engage in fisticuffs. Colonel Montford, the chief constable of the parish that contained Fortescue Manor and Talbot Abbey, and my own personal bete noir, rocked back and forth on his big feet, grinning evilly.

I’d been fairly celibate since I’d come home, and I had no idea how he discovered I strolled that side of the street, but he never let an opportunity pass to snipe at me. If I cared enough, I would have wondered about that.

My companion put her hand on my mine and shook her head. I subsided back into my seat.

"You remember Paul Montford, don’t you, Jennie? This is a little out of your bailiwick, isn’t it, Paul?"

Jennie turned her head and let her gaze rake him from head to toe.

The chief constable’s eyes goggled. "Jennie Williams?"

"Why, yes," I studied her carefully. "I do believe it is. Do you have some objection to my taking tea with her, Colonel?"

"She… Um…What? Beg pardon, I’m sure!" Colonel Montford left abruptly.

"Bloody arse!" I hissed softly. "Can’t tell the difference between a woman and a nancy boy!" Conveniently I forgot how I had reacted upon first seeing Jennie from the rear. "Have another cup of tea, my dear, and don’t let him worry you!"

Her expression became amused. "I never let Paul Montford worry me, Law. Officious, sanctimonious prig! Do you know, when I was a girl, I thought I fancied him?" She shook her head, as if amazed at her lack of sense, but then grew serious. "Do you have to face that sort of attitude often?"

I shrugged. "It happens on occasion."

"What do you do?"

"Well, you stopped me this time, but normally I would have blacked his eye!"

She burst into laughter. "Seriously, Law?"

"Seriously, Jennie, I would just have ignored the bastard. Beg pardon."

She leaned forward and pressed her palm to my cheek. I was glad I had taken the time to run a razor over my face before I went to pick her up. Of late, I found I needed to shave more frequently.

Jennie was studying my eyes, and I wondered what she saw in them. I forced myself to keep my gaze steady.

"Oh, I do like you, Lawrence Talbot!" She sat back and picked up her cup, taking a sip before speaking again. "You know, Law, I rather think I would like to marry you. If you are quite certain?"

I took her hand and raised it to my mouth. "Jennie, you’ve made me the happiest of men! I promise you won’t regret this!"

But events had already been put into motion.

####

Part 11

If I had been paying attention to my dreams, perhaps I could have prevented it. Or perhaps what happened had been foretold by the gypsy, Maleva, so many years before, and I never could have escaped it.

The package arrived a couple of days after I took Jennie to tea. It was addressed simply, Mr. Lawrence Talbot, Talbot Abbey.

There was no return address.

Curious, I turned it over in my hands, gave it a shake, but there was no outward sign of what it might contain. Since Father had Andrews motor him off to London, I was afforded a modicum of privacy. I carried the package to the study and reached for my brother John's boyhood penknife, which Father kept in his desk drawer.

Occasionally I would spot him running wistful fingers over it.

I used it as a letter opener, and now sliced it through the brown paper that was wrapped around a simple cedar box. There was a gold clasp that secured it, and once I released it, the top opened readily.

Within, on a bed of black satin, was... I swallowed and took the object from the box with unsteady hands. It was approximately eight inches long and two inches thick, with a bulbous head. About three inches above the slightly flared base was a rather unusual feature: a knob or knot that protruded, marring the sleek profile of the object.

Made of butter soft black leather, it was a dildo, one of the most finely crafted I had ever seen.

I dropped it back into the box as if it had burned my fingers. My mouth was dry, and my cock was becoming engorged. I slammed the lid down and set it on Father's desk. Who would have sent me such a thing?

I paced the carpet in front of the window, running my hand restlessly through my hair. Who *would* have sent me such a thing? And what was I to do with it?

I moistened my lips and approached it again. When I raised the lid it lay there, sensuously exposed. Only then did I notice the jar nestled in the folds of the luxurious material. I opened the jar, and an alluring, seductive odor wafted from the ointment that filled it.

Now my cock felt like an iron bar in my trousers. A massive shudder rippled through my body. I sealed the jar and shut the box, then hurried up to my room.

Sure the door was locked behind me, I set the box on a small table near the window, and began to pace once more. I hadn't felt this aroused in a very long time. My trousers were tented by my erection. I opened them and reached in to free my aching flesh, but the thought of wanking off was not enough. I needed more than my own hand.

I took the black object from the box and ran a finger along its length. *This* was what I needed!

I stripped out of my clothes and carried the dildo and the jar to my bed, where I laid down and spread my legs. Unable to prevent myself, I ran the dildo over my cheeks and jaw, its leather scent filling my nostrils. With a soft moan, I parted my lips, slid it into my mouth and began to suck on it. By relaxing my throat, I managed to get the knot past my lips. I stroked my cock and balls in tempo and became more and more aroused.

Finally I opened the jar and covered the black leather with the spicy ointment. I bent my legs back toward my chest and positioned the dildo at my anus. I rubbed the blunt tip across my opening, smearing it with the lubricant, and then began pressing it into me. With no effort at all, the snug muscle relaxed and allowed the intruder entrance.

It had been long years since I had been invaded like this, and I pulled my legs back further and thrust the dildo in deeper. A flash of lightning went through me as the knot slid into me and the dildo hit my prostate, and I bit my lip to prevent a groan of pleasure from alerting anyone who passed my door as to my activities.

The ointment seemed to heat up, increasing the level of my passion, and I withdrew the dildo until the knot was just outside my anus, then drove it into my back passage in earnest. With my other hand, I squeezed and plucked at my nipples, which seemed to be connected directly to my cock. It was leaking precome now, and I left the dildo imbedded in me while I smeared the clear liquid over the head of my erection. I pressed down on the slit at the tip and started to jerk myself off.

The fullness in my channel was like an itch that needed desperately to be scratched. I abandoned my nipples and went back to fucking myself with the lovely leather phallus. Too quickly I began to come, spilling my semen over my hand and onto my groin.

I collapsed in a sprawl, the dildo still in me. Lazily, I licked my hand clean, relishing the feeling of being stretched. After drowsing for a little bit, I roused myself enough to sit up, but I had forgotten the black leather inside me.

Or perhaps I hadn't forgotten.

I let it remain in place as I crossed to my bath. The shift and play of it in my arse was almost enough to make me hard once more. After I cleaned myself off, I dressed, leaving the dildo in place, and went about my normal routine for the rest of the day.

That night I put more ointment on it and used it repeatedly. The ointment soothed and maddened at the same time. The next morning I was stiff and a bit sore, so I left the dildo in my room.

All through the day I was distracted, barely able to speak coherently. I saw Jennie, rode my horse to the hill above the site where my gypsies were encamped. Shifting uncomfortably in the saddle, I completed any number of tasks that had been awaiting me.

And became increasingly desperate for the shadow of darkness to fall.

I learned from that: as long as I kept the dildo in place, I could function more or less, and keep my desire under control until it was safe for me to return to my room.

****

This had been going on for some time. I became gaunt and hollow-eyed, and Jennie was not the only one to remark on it. Lady Eugenia also questioned me. I was able to dismiss it as worry over the number of savagely mutilated animals that were being reported to Colonel Montford.

Farmers and villagers alike were becoming exceedingly fearful, and when George Twiddle, the glazier, was found near the forest with his throat torn out and his body eviscerated, tensions rose even more.

I stood before the window, naked, the black leather dildo stretching me, and I watched as the moon rose in the sky. My cock was hard and aching, but for some reason, tonight I was reluctant to bring myself to release.

I withdrew the dildo and coated it heavily with the unguent in the rapidly emptying jar. Replacing it, I pulled on my clothes and decided a walk in the woods would do me good. I was so concentrated on the maddening ache within me that I neglected to take my walking stick.

The night was cool after the unseasonable heat of the day, and a faint mist hung low over the ground. I strolled past the stables, through a pasture and on into a meadow, the play of the dildo over my prostate driving me wild with the need to be fucked.

There was a soft growl and then the sound of footsteps rushing over the fallen leaves. A body barreled into me, knocking me to the earth. Breathless, I was unable to cry out for help, and even if I had been able to, there would have been no one nearby to hear.

Rough hands tore at my trousers, while hot breath bathed the nape of my neck. I shuddered and whimpered.

"Silence, little brother. The time has come for me to claim you!"

My arse was exposed to the pale moonlight, and sharp nails drew lines of beaded blood over the flesh of my buttocks. Fingers parted my arse cheeks, and he chuckled at the sight of the black leather nestled there. The heavily accented voice whispered in my ear. "You wear my gift, little brother. Better and better! I did not like the thought of hurting you, although that would not have stopped me!"

"Bela!" I recognized the gypsy's voice. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"The stars are in alignment, as are the moon and planets. You must fulfill your destiny!" The dildo was pulled from me and tossed carelessly aside. Before I could protest or struggle, his cock was sliding into me, larger even than the black dildo. I whined at the burn, and then gasped at the starburst of pleasure that exploded throughout me as he targeted my prostate.

His hard hands forced me to remain motionless, as over and over he took me. The moon hung like a silver medallion, illuminating the land beneath it. A harsh growl ruffled my hair, and sharp fangs sank into the flesh of my shoulder, mangling it.

But I cared nothing for that as I felt a knot thrust into me, plugging me, and the scalding heat of his semen flooded my bowels.

I bucked into him, and took my weeping cock in my hands, stroking and pulling until I spilled my seed onto the dry earth.

I collapsed beneath him, and a long, lolling tongue swept out to sooth the pain of my shoulder. The teeth nipped my back and neck, and he licked the tiny hurts. We remained like that for almost an hour, his cock throbbing in my pleasurably abused passage.

When he finally shrank enough to slip free, gouts of come dribbled out of me. I toppled to my side on the ground and glanced at the shoulder that should have been destroyed, only to discover a wound that was already slowly healing. My eyes raised to his, and I shivered at the sight before me.

A wolf, huge, unnaturally *huge*, and silvered in the moonlight. His long, plumed tail swept lazily back and forth, and he raised his large head to scent the night air. He nudged me onto my stomach and began to lick me clean. The feel of his tongue on my anus sent ribbons of excitement through me, and I would have let him mount me again willingly.

It was as if he read my thoughts. His black lips parted in a canine smile, and his tongue swept over my balls and stroked gently. "No more tonight, little brother." The words came from the wolf's mouth, but they were the heavily accented English of the gypsy. "You must recover. But you will meet me here again tomorrow night, and every night that the full moon shines."

He paced forward, then turned and stood before me, proud and regal. I crawled to him, then rolled over onto my back, exposing my throat and belly to him. One final lick, to my cock this time, and he vanished in the night.

I gathered the shreds of my clothing around me and somehow managed to stagger back to the Abbey.

****

Each night that the moon was full I slipped out to meet my lover. Oddly enough, during the day it was simple to act as if nothing untoward had happened to me. Now that Bela had claimed me, I no longer needed the constant presence of the dildo.

And the nights when the moon wasn't full, the gypsy would come to me, using the ointment to ease his way in my passage, leaving me more and more in thrall to him.

****

Almost a month to the day I had proposed, I took Jennie back to The Thorn and Thistle for tea.

"Are you feeling well, Law?" Jennie asked as we sat across from each other. She had made a hearty meal, but I had simply toyed with the little sandwiches that had lost their appeal for me.

"As ever was, Jen!" I responded, and wondered if my jocularity sounded as forced to her as it did to me.

"I think you might need a haircut, Law. You're becoming a trifle shaggy!" She reached across the table to take my hand. "I worry about you, my dear." She began to play with my fingers, stroking and petting them. "Oh! Were you aware of this?"

"Was I aware of what, my dear?"

"These two fingers are exactly the same length!" Jennie held my index and middle finger together.

"And...?" I asked indulgently as I took a sip of my tea. I no longer took it with two lumps of sugar, finding that too sweet.

"That's the sign of the werewolf!"

The tea spewed from my nose and mouth. "I *beg* your pardon?"

She smiled and stroked the curve of my cheek. "I didn't mean to make you choke, Law. My granny told me about that when I was very little."

"*Not* amusing, Jennie Williams!"

"I'm sorry, my dear, it was cruel of me to tease you." Her fingers caressed my palm, and I trembled, but whether from the sensation, or from her words, I couldn't tell.

It was growing dark when we finally left the inn. I tipped back my head and breathed deeply. The odors that rode the evening breeze flooded my nostrils. I helped Jennie into my automobile and began the drive back to Upper Uncton. We were silent for most of the way.

"You know, Law. It might not be a bad idea if we anticipated the vows."

The gears howled in protest as I threw my vehicle into first when I meant to shift into third. I whipped my head around to stare at her in shock.

"Better keep your eyes on the road, my dear."

"That was not well done of you, Jennie! I am definitely going to wind up driving the Aston Martin into a ditch because of you!"

She shifted in the seat to face me, her right leg curled under her and her arm over the back of the seat. "Sorry," she grinned, but I could see she was unrepentant.

"You're asking for a hiding you are, Jennie Williams, soon-to-be Jennie Talbot!"

Her fingers threaded through my hair. "Am I, Lawrence? How very...titillating!" She traced the sworl of my inner ear and I shivered and leaned into her touch. "Seriously, my dear. It might save us both a deal of bother."

"And you don't think that having sampled the milk, I mightn't want to buy the cow?"

"Don't be crass!" she chuckled. "I trust you, Law. And if I can't excite you, isn't it better for us to know now? You'd be able to find someone who would please you."

"No, Jennie. I want to marry you." I struggled to make my voice convincing. "I don't think making love with you will be a problem."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little differently equipped than your usual lovers."

I took a hand from the wheel and traced a path from her thigh to the notch of her legs. "I had noticed, my dear." Her scent, the scent of a female in heat, washed over me, and I found myself becoming aroused. "Very well, Jennie, since you insist." She gave a soft sound of satisfaction, at having won that battle, at the feel of my fingers gently stroking her. "But I will marry you anyway, don't think I won't!"

"Suppose you meet someone and fall in love?"

"Suppose I meet a man, you mean? I shan't." Hyde flashed into my mind, and I banished him back to Canada. It was not quite so easy to banish the gypsy.

"Very well. But you'll tell me if you change your mind? I'll let you go, Law, but please do me the courtesy of not making a fool of me; promise you'll be honest with me."

I licked my lips and steered the automobile down the narrow lane behind Jennie's shop. "Will you promise me the same? Jennie, I'm not naive. I know there isn't love between us at this moment, but we do like and respect one another. If you should find someone...?"

"Yes, I promise."

My skin felt twitchy, as if it would have been better suited to a smaller body. My palms became sweaty, and my mouth dry, and butterflies began to play football in my stomach. I glanced uneasily up at the moon riding low in the sky. I should be out in the woods, I thought, not here! Off in the distance I could have sworn I heard a wolf howl.

Nerves. It was just my nerves, getting the better of me. After all, this was the most outrageous situation I had ever heard of!

I got out of my sporty little car and limped around to open the passenger door for her. She took my hand and rose gracefully to her feet, letting herself flow against me for our first kiss. It was...different from kisses I had shared with any of the men who had wandered into my life.

I explored the interior of her mouth, learning her taste, which was a mingling of honey and clotted cream and something that was simply Jennie. She stepped back and smiled at me, then slid an arm around my waist and led me through the door at the back of her shop.

My walking stick made a muffled thump on the carpet that covered the stairs that led to her bedroom.

It was a nice-sized room facing the rear of the house. Most of the space was taken up by a large bed, but there was a dresser along one wall, with a full-length mirror to one side. Next to it was a cupboard. Gauzy lace curtains hung from the window, which was open to let in the soft, autumn night air.

The moon was rising just above the trees now, its faint light casting shadows into the room.

Jennie shed her clothes quickly and bent over the bed to draw back the covers. A stray moonbeam caressed the curve of her arse, and my cock leaped to attention. I released a quiet breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I propped my walking stick against the little stand beside her bed and began to remove my own shirt and trousers.

She crawled onto the bed and settled herself against the mound of pillows. Her gaze was like a physical caress, and I swallowed heavily as I traced the long, lean lines of her body.

She gnawed on her lower lip for a moment, then rolled onto her stomach and rose to her hands and knees. The glance over her shoulder was flirtatious. "Will this make it easier for you, Law?"

I growled. Again that tempting arse was before me, those sleek, taut curves, and I was rock hard. Although she couldn't see me, I gave a feral nod, unable to say a word as I climbed onto the bed behind her.

I rubbed against her moist folds, drawing my cock back between her buttocks. I teased her puckered opening, and she gave a ragged gasp. "Law? Is that how you want to take me?"

"Perhaps one day, Jennie. I can make it very good for you. But not tonight," I soothed, and scattered kisses over her waist and back.

Rubbing my cheek against her shoulder, I closed my eyes and reached for her nipples, squeezing and rolling them between my fingers. She was correct: she had scarcely more curves than an adolescent boy. Carefully I slid into her moist, heated core and began to plumb her depths. Her inner muscles clenched fiercely around me, but this was not the snug, hot, tightness I craved. I plowed into her desperately, but orgasm seemed just out of my reach.

It was out of her reach as well. Sweat coated her shoulders. It dripped from my temples. Frustrated, she took one of my hands and thrust it between her thighs, showing me how she liked to be touched. I coated the little nub with her moisture and caught her rhythm, plucking and rubbing it. Her head dropped to the mattress, and she began to tremble as her climax overtook her, humming in pleasure.

The room darkened as the light of the moon was abruptly blotted out by a wave of clouds that concealed it. The curtains fluttered wildly, but I was too lost in trying to reach my own orgasm to notice anything. My anus was spasming, needing to be stretched and plundered.

Suddenly the bed dipped as someone joined us on it.

Before I could jerk out of Jennie and whirl around to face him, he was pressing up against me. I knew it was Bela; his scent surrounded me. I groaned and surrendered.

Warm fingers explored the crack of my arse, seeking my opening. I shuddered and mindlessly thrust back. Now those slick, clever fingers were dipping into me, breaching the guardian muscle. It was rough, as always, but I needed it that way.

"Lawrence?" There was a touch of fear in Jennie's voice.

"Hush, my dear. It's all right!" I knew Bela would never hurt me. And I would never permit him to hurt Jennie.

The fingers that had been stretching me withdrew, replaced by a cock that was blunt and hot and lubricated with precome, pushing steadily against my anus. I bent low over Jennie, still buried deep in her, so relaxed, so wanting this.

Only Bela had ever dominated me in this fashion, making me burn, making me yield to him willingly. The threat of violence hadn't been necessary that first time to make me obey his will, but had succeeded in making the entire experience even more passionate.

"Yes!" I groaned now as he hit my prostate. "More!" Each thrust penetrated me deeply, rocking me forward into Jennie, who whimpered and let me take her, burying her head in her arms. I spread my legs wider and angled my hips higher, wanting him so deep inside me that when he finally came I would feel him in my throat.

At that moment in time, I was blind to everything except the sensations the big gypsy sent coursing through my body.

The thick, silky hair that covered his torso down to his abdomen brushed continually over my back and arse as he rode me. I pleaded shamelessly for his possession. A last, hard nudge to my prostate, and I was coming, pouring myself into Jennie. She trembled under me, her inner walls clutching me as she climaxed again, while Bela shivered over me, filling my bowels with semen, just as I filled Jennie.

The full moon slid out from behind the clouds.

I was floating on a haze of satisfaction so great I thought nothing could rouse me from it. Sharp teeth fastened onto my shoulder and bit down gently, worrying the muscle. I smiled at the thought of that mouth on me, of the creature who seemed intent on ravaging me.

Jennie scooted out from under me and with a scream, seized my walking stick. Swinging it like a club, she stuck out at the beast. "Jennie, *no*!" The thuds became sodden, sickening as bone was crushed. "Oh, God, no!"

I must have swooned, because when I regained my senses, Jennie was beside me on her bed. She cradled me in her arms and wept as she pressed a damp cloth to my face, wiping the blood spatters from me.

"Oh, Law. What happened? What *is* that?"

I buried my head against her. Hot tears ran down my cheeks and spilled onto her chest.

Lying across her rug before the window, fast assuming human form, was my brother, my lover, the gypsy, Bela.

Part 12

Roddy's POV

I had mixed emotions about returning to the Dark Continent.

On the one hand, it had taken away Charlie Allnutt, the first man I ever loved. In order to save our freehold in South Africa he had accepted a job with the archeologist, Howard Carter. Although Charlie had been gravely ill at the time, his death in the Valley of the Kings was laid at Tutankhamun’s door.

On the other hand, Africa had given me Thomas Fortescue-Smythe, the former army captain I had met after Charlie and I sailed down the Ulanga in the African Queen to sink the Louisa, the German steamship.

Tommy was the man who was destined to be my last love.

****

I was in the stable, observing but staying out of the way, as one of our mares competently gave birth to a chestnut foal.

"Look at the legs on ‘im, sir!" The young groom who had stayed up the night with me was almost as pleased as I was. "He’ll be a right fast one!"

"I believe you’re correct, Will. However, only time will tell." Before I realized it, someone had joined us. "Tommy!"

Will tugged on his forelock and excused himself to see to the day’s tasks. When we were alone, I leaned into my lover and yawned hugely.

"Any thoughts on a name, Roddy?"

"Mmm. I was thinking Osiris," I murmured drowsily.

Tommy stiffened. "Why?" he asked bluntly, his tone of voice jerking me out of the light doze into which I had slipped.

I turned in his embrace and studied the expression on his face. Since our adventure with the… man… who called himself Ardeth Bey, anything Egyptian seemed to make him uncomfortable. I cradled his cheek in my palm, wanting to kiss away his distress, knowing I couldn’t in such a public place. "Well, if he lives up to the promise of his bloodlines, I expect he’ll be hell on four legs," I remarked blandly.

He hesitated, then accepted my explanation and changed the subject. "Was it a difficult birth, love?"

I relaxed into him and shook my head. "Bonnie Kate just wanted to take her time about it."

"She certainly did," he grumbled good-naturedly. "You left our bed just after midnight, and it’s rising noon, now!"

"Didn’t mean to disturb you, sweetheart." I yawned again.

"You didn’t, but I never sleep well when you’re not with me." He was silent for a moment, and then, "I do love you, Roddy!"

Abruptly I was no longer at ease. I pushed myself away from him, all senses on the alert. I knew he loved me, he told me so frequently, but usually within the privacy of our rooms. "All right, what’s that in aid of? Do you have to go on another mission, Tommy?"

He nodded, pulling me back against him and stroking my back, but I refused to let his actions soothe me. "To Africa. I just received a wire from Sir Edward. "

"*Bugger*, Tommy! You’ve only just come back from Germany! Bloody hell," I swore tonelessly. He would never shirk what he felt was his duty. "When must you leave?"

"*We* leave on Monday week, love. You’re coming with me this time!" And in spite of the fact that we were in the stable where anyone could walk in on us at any time, he kissed me.

****

He insisted that once this assignment was completed he wanted to return to Kenya, to the Lake where we had first met. It would be a honeymoon for us.

The sheer romanticism of his proposal, as well as his thorough love-making later that evening, turned my thought processes to mush, and I happily agreed.

The sea voyage took its toll on me. I couldn’t understand how the vicious rapids of the Ulanga didn’t phase my stomach, yet the Atlantic had me constantly bent over the railing, feeding the fishes. Miserably I vowed I would never sail again, even while I knew that for Tommy, I would.

Once we arrived in Africa, we found that most of his time was spent in tracking down greedy, corrupt bureaucrats. He assured me on more than one occasion that it was a mission totally without risk.

"You know I trust you enough to not put yourself in danger, Tommy. But just so you’re aware? Charlie taught me any number of ways to kill a man, some of them quite inventive. If anything happens to you, I’ll go after whoever hurt you." He sported a smug grin until I concluded my promise. "And then I’ll go after you."

His grin was wiped away. "Explain that, if you please!" he demanded grimly.

It was my turn to grin. "No, I rather think I won’t. You’ve already lost an eye for King and country. See that you don’t lose anything else!"

Somehow, one mission flowed into another, and what was supposed to last a few months ran to a few years

Finally we were able to get to South Africa, where thanks to the foresight and sacrifice of Charlie Allnutt, I was the owner of a number of highly productive diamond mines.

From there we traveled to Kenya, and took rooms in the Duke of York Hotel, where I had first stayed with Charlie. And where we spent a lovely, long time in bed.

****

I could tell Tommy was getting restless. Of late he seemed prone to feeling low, and I was becoming frantic with worry. It was time to return home. I went out to see about making the arrangements while he collected the mail and started packing.

That was where the letter from Lady Genie reached us, and I thought I discovered the reason behind his depression.

He read it while we were in the tub, and by the time he came to the part about his boyhood friend, Lawrence Talbot, he was shaking so hard the water cascaded over the side of the tub and spilled to the tiled floor.

"Lawrence has become gaunt, and that limp of his from the war has returned to plague him. He’s taken to using a silver-headed walking stick he purchased from Jennie Williams’ little shop in the village.

"Thomas, please come home as soon as possible."

My lover’s tourmaline eye seemed unable to settle on anything. He certainly didn’t see me. "Roddy…"

"Yes, sweetheart." My heart felt as if it was cracking. Was I about to lose him to the love of his youth? "We’ll leave first thing in the morning."

He refused to speak of Talbot. We got out of the tub, and he said nothing. We dried off and dressed, and he stared off into space.

We went out to dine at a local grill, and finally Tommy broke his silence, although it was still not to talk about the man he had once loved. He began to explore a theory regarding the deaths that his mother had mentioned.

"Might be a madman," he ventured. "Remember that bloke, Jack the Ripper?" I looked at him blankly. "Killed all those unfortunate women in London’s East End in the late 80s."

I made a moue. "Tommy, Methodists never follow such lurid occurrences. And in case it escaped your notice, that was years before I was born!"

He frowned at me. "It was before I was born also!"

I widened my eyes. "Truly?"

He threw his napkin at me and returned to the meal before him.

So it went: each time I saw him start to become melancholic, I would do or say something outrageous, even going so far as to borrow a horse that had been left outside a tavern and ride it up the cathedral steps, almost getting arrested in the process. It took some fast-talking on both our parts to get me out of that.

By the time we got back to our room Tommy was so busy wondering what I would come up with next that he had no time to brood. While I had all the time in the world.

Tossing aside my jacket and slouching back against the door, I worked my tie free. I watched in dismay as lethargy engulfed him once more. What could I do to compete with his first love?

He stripped out of his clothes, leaving them draped over a chair, and leaned forward to turn back the covers. My vision was filled with the flex of thigh and buttock, and my mouth went dry, and my cock grew rigid.

Before my lover realized what I was about, I had launched myself at him. Murmuring desperate love words, I nipped at his back and shoulders.

I was only barely under control. I wanted to get under his skin. I wanted to bury myself so deeply in his body that we wouldn’t know where Tommy ended and I began. I wrestled out of my shirt and trousers, keeping my lover pinned under me.

"I love you, Tommy! I’m the one who’s here with you! Not anyone else! Not Talbot! Me!"

He went still, and I could have kicked myself in the bum for making a statement that was nothing short of asinine. When Tommy rolled away, I made no effort to keep him beneath me.

"Is that what tonight was all about? Lawrence?" His stare was implacable. "*Why*, Roddy?"

I suppressed a sigh. "You never talk of him, Tommy. Your mother keeps you informed of his comings and goings, and when she tells you he’s not looking well you decide we need to return home as soon as we can."

"We were leaving tomorrow anyway," he stated patiently. His eye widened, and his jaw dropped. "Roddy, are you jealous?"

I shrugged, refusing to answer.

"Why? You were never jealous of Archie."

I mumbled something.

"Say again?" His fingers under my chin forced me to meet his gaze.

I surrendered gracelessly and snapped in ill temper, "I’m not jealous of Archie because there’s no chance that he will come back into our lives and take you away from me."

"Oh, rosebud, it just isn’t possible for anyone else in this world to take me away from you! There’s no one I love more!"

"But Talbot…?"

Tommy waved aside the fear that haunted me. "He was my friend, and I’ll always care about him, but you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with! Don’t you understand that yet?"

"But you’ve been so quiet lately, and you became so upset when you read about his condition."

"Not because of Lawrence, I promise you! Oh, I’m sorry he’s unwell, but Mother is there! I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her." And then the reason behind his distress burst out. "I want children, Roddy! Oh, God, I’d make you pregnant if I could!" He went pale.

"Really? You’d really do that?" I blinked in astonishment and repeated, "You want children?"

"I’m a pathetic sod. I know that." The pathetic sod didn’t realize how happy he had made me.

"Oh. Oh, my!"

"Is that all you can say?" he demanded irritably.

I didn’t know what else to say. "I had no idea, Tommy!" Here I thought he had been pining for that architect, and instead I learned that what he wanted in his life was not Talbot, but children! "You’ve taken my breath away." I hesitated a tick, then continued, "I’d give you a baby if I could, but …"

"I knew there would be a ‘but’." He grew morose once more.

"But since I can’t, would you…would you mind pretending that it was possible, and try?"

My lover had his cock slicked and inside me so quickly that I was sprawled spread eagle beneath him before I knew what he was about. His tongue dipped into my ear, and a moist puff of air followed. He drove into me, hard, rapid strokes that slammed into my sweet spot. Dark, hot, sexual words flowed over me. I had to bite down on the pillow to muffle my moans. Without touching my cock he made me come, his semen filling me at the same time.

"You made me come too fast!" I panted when I was finally able to speak. His weight made it difficult to breathe, but then breathing was highly overrated compared with what he made me feel.

Tommy knew, though, and slid off me and pulled me back into his arms. The steady thumping of his heart was a comforting vibration against my back. "We’ve got all night, love." He turned my face toward his, and stopped whatever I might have said with an openmouthed kiss. "We can sleep on the train tomorrow."

****

We arrived in Morocco in good time, only to be stymied by an unexpected problem. There was no space available on any of the ships sailing north to England. Neither money nor threats could get us a berth. It appeared we were stranded in Casablanca.

"I’ve got an idea. Don’t go wandering off. These Berbers will take one look at your beautiful blue eyes and snatch you up." He was suddenly very close to me, his lips tracing the lines of my cheekbones and jaw.

"And then?" I asked, breathless.

"And then I’ll have to cause an international incident to get you back." Tommy stole a quick kiss and sauntered toward the door.

"Gallant bastard, aren’t you, sweetheart?"

"Gallant is my middle name!" The door closed behind him, and I chuckled softly.

Tommy was back almost before I could miss him. "Get your things together. I’ve lined up transportation!"

I didn’t ask how. He had been skulking the underbelly of the world for a long time, and he knew all kinds of unsavory characters. I imagined the ubiquitous Signor Ferrari would have no problem finding a ship that would accommodate us.

He didn’t bother with neatness, just tossed everything into his grip, willy-nilly. I followed suit and was hard on his heels as he hurried down the staircase to the lobby of our hotel.

A cab was waiting for us outside the front door. We got in and were whisked away.

In less time than I could have imagined, the ancient vehicle screeched to a halt at the… airstrip? Tommy paid the driver.

"Oh, no!" I tried to balk, but he hustled me onto the airfield.

"I promise you, it's safe!"

I looked at him askance. "Would you be willing to put that in writing?"

"Come on, Roddy. Trust me!" My lover tightened his hold on his valise with one hand and my arm with the other, and strode toward the hangar where an airship was awaiting us. Across the side was emblazoned the name, Vert Fromage.

"Tommy!"

"It’s quite all right, Roddy. The captain is an old school chum of mine."

"What’s an Englishman doing flying that thing in French Morocco?"

"Oh, he’s a Frog, rosebud. But a decent chap for all that!"

"If man had been meant to fly," I grumbled as I followed him, "God would have given us wings!" I regretted now that I hadn’t questioned him back in our hotel room. "How in the name of all that's holy did you manage to get us booked on a dirigible?"

"I've got friends in high places, love!"

"If this thing goes down, I will personally come back from heaven and hunt you down, Tommy Smythe!"

"As I recall, you have some highly placed friends as well!"

I stared at him in shock. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m sure!"

"Your brother was a missionary, wasn’t he? It seems to me that would give you an ‘in’ with the Good Shepherd." Before my shock could subside into relief he spoke again, and his next words were so quiet that I had to struggle to hear them. "If I remember correctly, we never would have gotten away from Ardeth Bey without the aid of that hyena-headed god of yours!" He drew me closer to him. "Don’t worry so! If this thing goes down, rosebud, you won’t need to go looking for me. I’ll be right there with you!"

And then he said the words that would guarantee me following him anywhere: "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

Part 13

As I carried the body of my lover into the camp, the gypsies stood in grim silence. Backlit by the flare of their unbanked fires, they watched me with flat, resentful eyes.

I staggered to a halt, not knowing where to take him. The crowd parted, and the stooped figure of the old woman, Maleva, shuffled forward, pain etched in her movements, but whether physical or emotional, I couldn’t tell. She gestured to the ground, and I lay Bela down before her.

In the fitful light of a torch I could see the tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks. One of the men helped ease her to her knees. She embraced the cooling body and began to rock back and forth, murmuring in heavily accented English, "Oh, my son! My poor son!"

Her claw-like hand reached out and seized my wrist, and I fully expected to have curses heaped upon my head. To my shock, her grasp gentled. "You must not grieve for him, my son. He has found peace at last!"

"You…you knew what he was?"

"Of course I knew. I was his mother! I am so sorry he brought this to you!"

"I’m not. I loved him!"

Her eyes became stricken, and a fresh flood of tears spilled from them. She signaled to the man. "Take Bela to my caravan. I will prepare his body. My son, I must speak with you."

I helped her to stand and followed her a short distance away from her people.

"Do you remember me, Maleva? Years ago you read my future in my palm."

She nodded wearily. "I remember. Bela overheard the prophecy. He understood the words, where you did not, and went to you that night. He was over-eager. His actions have doomed you both." She looked toward the shadows. "Pluck those flowers, my son."

Confused, I did as she bid, and held them toward her. They gleamed whitely in the moonlight, and the heady scent seemed to rise up and wind its way around me, flooding my nostrils, engulfing my senses. She folded my fingers over them.

"Wolfbane, my son." Softly she began to recite, "Even a man who is pure in heart, and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms, and the autumn moon is bright."

Involuntarily I glanced over my shoulder, at the autumn moon as it was just starting to slide out of sight behind the towering forest that bordered the camp.

She turned my face back to her, rubbing her palm over the heavy growth of stubble that covered my cheeks and chin. "You must not be angry with the lady. She follows her destiny, just as Bela followed his." The gypsy’s hand rested lightly on my upper arm. Her touch was gentle, but still I flinched, and she opened my shirt and pushed it back off my shoulder. She traced the scars, which were barely visible. "Bela did this to you."

It wasn’t a question, but I answered as if it was. "Yes."

"When he made love to you."

"Yes."

Maleva moaned softly. "I hoped you might be spared, my son. Even though I read it in your palm, I had hoped... I am so very sorry." She shook her head and seemed to look through time to when this had begun. "Bela was always headstrong. He, too, bore the sign of the pentagram in his palm. He would do what he wanted, when he wanted. After you went away all those years ago, he became even more so."

"I had no choice! I didn’t want to leave!"

"No," she corrected. "You would have stayed, but for the young sir, not for my Bela. He knew that, and it drove him wild, drove him to actions we Rom have come to regret. My man decided it would be best for us to leave this place, and so we did. We crossed the Channel, made our way through France and Germany, but because it was earlier in the year than we normally traveled, we arrived in the Carpathian Mountains too soon. It was the season of the loup garou; they were on the prowl. None of our people dared to venture out at night."

"Except for Bela," and she nodded her agreement. I could picture it in my mind’s eye: the big gypsy forcing his way through the dense underbrush of the wood, heedless of the wise woman’s warning. I shuddered as I ‘saw’ him attacked by the huge wolf, knocked to the forest floor, much as he had knocked me down. I ‘saw’ his clothes shredded from his body. I could ‘feel’ the creature’s cock slam into him, ‘feel’ the sharp teeth biting down, passing on the dark legacy.

Maleva took my face between her palms and forced me to meet her eyes. "Listen to me carefully, my son. Bela survived for many years, in spite of the curse. He would have continued to live, feeding on the beasts of the field, but for his desire for you! I tell you this, not to make you feel guilty, but to caution you. You will survive also. But you must leave the young sir alone!"

She was telling me that that which I desired most was forbidden to me? //Then I will follow Bela’s path, taking what I want!// Dark images of Thomas crouching beneath me as I ravaged his back passage, as I marked him as mine, came to me, and I grew hard. The alpha male was gone. Now I was the alpha male. And Thomas would be my mate! After all these years, he would once again be mine!

The part of me that was still untainted tried to shake loose of those frightening thoughts. "I don’t know what you’re talking about!" I declared, too vehemently. "This is ridiculous! Thomas isn’t in England! And even if he were, he has a partner!" //But life is very fragile// that voice whispered in my mind. //Men die all the time. A hunting accident. An attack by a wild animal…//

She struck my face. "No! No! You must not!" It was as if she read my thoughts. "Your very soul is at stake!"

Something savage within me broke free. I snarled at her and jerked free of her grip, which was surprisingly strong for such an old woman. Turning on my heel, I left the gypsy camp. No one tried to stop me, but I could feel their eyes on me as I strode away and vanished into the shadows of the trees.

****

"Lawrence!"

I frowned and glanced up. I had been considering ways of getting Thomas once he returned, and didn’t relish being disturbed. "Yes, Father?" I made a show of raising my wine glass to my lips, although I didn’t drink. My dinner also sat before me, untouched. The taste no longer suited me, it was too welldone.

My father stood leaning heavily on my ebony walking stick, which I never used any more. The silver wolf’s head … displeased me. "Gwen…"

"Ah, the lovely Miss Conliffe. Would she be interested in taking tea with me one afternoon, Father?"

His mouth gaped. "You… you actually want to see her?"

"Certainly. And perhaps I’ll even consider marrying her. It shouldn’t matter to the girl that there is no love between us. She’ll become Lady Talbot eventually, and that will keep her happy."

"And you, Lawrence?"

"Are you asking if I’ll be happy, Father? It’s rather late in the day to be concerned with that, don’t you think?"

He flinched, then cleared his throat. "I…er…I hear that Thomas will be returning home shortly."

I bared my teeth in a parody of a grin. "Yes. Isn’t that grand?" I pushed my chair back and rose easily to my feet. The closer it came to the full of the moon, I found, the less my leg pained me.

"You were quite close to him at one time."

"Oh, yes. Thick as inkle weavers, we were." And would be again.

"You could do with a shave."

I observed him from under my lashes. "I shaved before dinner."

"Indeed." Abruptly he changed tack. "About Jennie Williams…"

I stiffened. After that night, Jennie refused to see me, refused to consider my marriage proposal. "What about Jennie, Father?"

"Word has gone around the village that she’s in an interesting condition."

"Really?" I kept my face blank.

"And that you’re the cause of it!"

"And if I am?"

"Well, we’ll just have to see about getting the child away from her. I won’t have my grandson being raised by a shopkeeper!"

"And if it’s a girl child?"

He curled his lip at me. "Talbots have bred true to sons since Charles II! It will be a boy!"

"Damn you, Father! Make the arrangements for my marriage with Gwen Conliffe, or marry the bloody girl yourself, but leave Jennie Williams alone!" I stormed out of the house and made my way to the stable. I had taken to avoiding the horses of late; they became so skittish in my presence that neither they nor I was comfortable.

There would be a full moon that night, and I needed to burn off the emotions that were roiling through my body. Instead of motoring into the village, I ordered a horse saddled and threw myself onto her back. The mare screamed and fought me, trying to take the bit between her teeth. She tried to bolt, and I wrenched her head viciously around, heading her in the right direction.

It wasn’t far to the village, but by the time we got there, she was blown. Her head hung between her splayed legs, and her sides heaved as she labored to regain her breath. Sweat coated her glossy brown hide, and froth dripped from her mouth, streaked with blood caused by the battle for control.

I left her there, uncaring whether she stayed or made a break for home, and strode into Needful Things. Before the tinkling of the bells above the door could bring Jennie from the little kitchen behind her shop, I made sure the card saying the shop was closed was facing the street, door was locked and the shade drawn.

Jennie emerged, looking wan and a trifle green. Her expression changed from one of inquiring interest to hardened resolve, and her palm went to rest protectively on her belly.

"So it’s true?"

She ignored my question, responding with one of her own." What do you want, Lawrence?"

"Were you planning on telling me?"

"Why would I?" she parried.

"Haven’t I that right? I am the father. You know the reason I was marrying was to insure offspring."

"And that’s why I wouldn’t have told you. This is my baby. I won’t give her up to you! Especially after what happened the night she was conceived!"

"I never blamed you for killing him, Jennie."

She looked at me as if I had gone mad. "That thing was fucking you!"

I turned away, suddenly distracted by the vivid memory of Bela’s cock shoving past the tight ring of my anus and sinking deep into my bowels; I could almost feel him moving against my arse. I licked my lips. "That wasn’t my fault, Jennie!"

"I’m sorry, Lawrence; I can’t live with knowing you were that creature’s plaything!"

"You never struck me as being a prude, Jennie." I heard her grinding her teeth.

"Dear God, Law, that was bestiality! How you could let it…"

I moved so quickly she couldn’t avoid me. My arms were around her, my nose buried in the silk of her white blond curls. "I could show you, Jennie! Then you would understand. The feel of soft fur against your naked skin. A hot, throbbing cock plumbing your passage. Sharp teeth nipping at the spot where blood is pulsing just below your skin. You know I could tear you to ribbons, but you trust me enough not to hurt you! Ah, let me show you, Jennie. You’ll love it, I promise!"

She angled her head away to stare dazedly into my eyes. Her lips were parted, and her tongue darted out to moisten them. With a groan I lowered my mouth to hers and tasted the honey she had used in her tea.

I bent and swept her into my arms, lifting her easily. Her pregnancy wasn’t far enough advanced to make carrying her difficult. I growled softly and dipped my head to nuzzle the curve of her throat.

Abruptly she twisted out of my arms, stumbling as she tried to get her legs under her. "No! NO!" She was weeping silently. "Stay away from me, Law! Just stay away from me!"

Jennie hiccoughed and struggled to bring herself under control. It was fortunate she was not watching me. The odor of her fear and distress was a powerful aphrodisiac, and nothing would have been simpler than to take her to the floor and devour her.

I fought back the animal in me. "You’ll come to me if you need anything, Jennie? Money… anything?"

Her mouth a tight line, she turned on her heel and hurried into the tiny kitchen. It was obvious that Jennie wanted nothing from me, not even my presence in our child’s life. That bothered me less than I thought it would. I supposed I just wasn’t paternal.

Just before I reached the door I saw it. Black, about eight inches of butter-soft leather. How had this managed to show up in Needful Things?

I tucked some bills into a nook where Jennie would eventually find them, and slid the phallus into my pocket, then left for home.

It would make an ideal gift for Thomas.

Part 14

Tommy’s POV

He didn’t expect to enjoy traveling in a dirigible.

On being shown to the cabin that would house us for the duration of the trip, I hugged Roddy briefly. "I’m going to speak with Jacques. Why don’t you get us settled? Don’t worry so, love. It will be fine!" I ran my hand over his hair, and he scowled at me. "Honestly!

But I lingered at the door, watching his competent movements as he began unpacking the articles of clothing we would need for the relatively short journey, putting trousers and shirts into the chest of drawers. The minuscule washbasin actually provided hot water, and he set our razor, comb and toothbrushes next to it. His expression was rueful as he regarded the jar that contained the cream we used as a lubricant. He probably thought he’d be too sick to enjoy making love.

"I can dream," he informed me as he placed it on the sink and continued exploring our compartment.

Behind a door that folded in on itself was the commode, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "At least I won’t have to make a mad dash down the corridor when my stomach decides to play fast and loose with me!" He found an ancient brochure that had been left behind when this dirigible had been sold. "Listen to this!" he exclaimed. "’People are never sick on board an Airship.’ Ha!" He flipped through the pages, becoming engrossed in spite of himself. "Oh, now this sounds really promising!" Sarcasm dripped from his voice. "‘…for as yet, no passenger has ever been sick on board a Zeppelin Airship.’ As yet! I knew it was too good to be true!" He laughed hollowly.

"Roddy, it will be all right! Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Why are you still here?" he asked, disgruntled. "I thought you had to talk to Jacques."

"Jacques can wait; he won’t be going anywhere."

I ignored Roddy’s muttered, "He’d better not be!"

"Why don’t I show you around, rosebud?"

"Of course," he grumbled. "Let’s explore this flying coffin, by all means."

I gave a huff of laughter and grabbed him, bending him back over my arm and sealing his mouth with mine while my hand fondled his rapidly hardening cock. His eyes took on a dazed expression. One last squeeze, and I set him upright. "I was saving this for tonight, but…"

"What?" A hectic flush colored his cheeks, and a fine trembling rippled through his legs.

I was busy undoing his trousers and taking out his erection. Carefully I slid the strip of leather around his cock and balls. The only sound that disturbed the silence of our cabin was his harsh breathing and the snap as the cock ring’s fastener closed.

"Tommy!" Roddy’s blue eyes became slumberous, and he reached for me with a soft groan. "How long are you going to make me wear this?"

Instead of answering, I took his mouth one more time, then released him and buttoned up his trousers. "The observation deck is this way, rosebud."

"Tease!" he gasped as he grabbed for a handful of my arse. I danced away, striving for an innocent look, and led him into the companionway. He followed me to the glass enclosed area, but halted just outside the entrance, his face suddenly pale. "Is something wrong, Tommy? Shouldn’t they be casting off the tow ropes?"

I took his hand and drew him to the window. There was no vibration, no roar of engines to signal our departure. While Roddy had been getting us settled in, while we had been busy with… other things, the Vert Fromage had effortlessly taken to the sky. He rubbed at the glass and watched in dumbfounded wonder as the airship’s shadow slid beneath us on the ground.

I stood behind him, my arms wound loosely around his waist, my cheek pressed to his. "By this time tomorrow, love, we’ll be a thousand miles closer to home!"

****

To Roddy's surprise, he was still feeling fine, even after dinner, which we enjoyed with my friend, Jacques.

My lover would shift occasionally in his seat. The constriction of the leather ring kept his cock hard, and the material of his trousers was tantalizing against his sensitized flesh.

As soon as we could politely do so, we bid the captain bonne nuit.

"Eh, mes amis, do not leave your boots outside your cabin door," he called after us with a chuckle.

The shine on our boots was the last thing I was concerned with. I hurried Roddy back to our cabin, stripped off his clothes in record time, and tumbled him onto our tiny berth.

I placed his hands above his head. "This bed has no railings, love, but I need you to imagine there are. Keep your hands here." His fingers opened and closed restlessly, but he obeyed me.

Starting at his toes, I nibbled my way up his body, carefully avoiding his cock. When I reached his upper torso, I turned him onto his side and parted his arse cheeks, and licked a path from where the leather ring restrained his balls high against his cock to the pucker of his anus. He quivered and jerked as my tongue dipped past the tight muscle, loosening it.

"Jesus God, Tommy! What are you doing to me?"

I began working two slicked fingers into him. "Can’t you tell, love?"

Roddy groaned and thrust back onto my fingers, more than ready for me. I exposed the area I intended to plunder. The head of my cock replaced my fingers, and I pushed into him with one easy thrust.

He was moaning steadily now as I fucked him. I traced his lips, then slid a couple of fingers into his mouth. He sucked on them voraciously, and I felt my control unravel.

I had intended to spend a long time making thorough love to him before I unsnapped the leather band. Instead, I barely had time to get it undone.

Well, I promised myself, there would always be another time.

"Next time, Tommy, you get to wear that thing!" Roddy murmured as he slid into a sated sleep.

I smiled and closed my eyes.

****

I found myself wandering through a nightmarish landscape, black and white and shades of grey.

I could just make out my lover, somewhere ahead of me in the fog-shrouded wood. Stray beams from the full moon filtered through the fog and lit his way, spilling onto his sun-lightened hair and shining off it.

Something trailed him in the mist; something feral that threatened not only his life, but also his soul. Growls rumbled from concealing shadows, but he walked on, unaware, unconcerned. I opened my mouth to warn him, but it was as if my vocal cords were frozen. I couldn’t get a sound past my lips.

He knew I was there behind him, and he turned to face me. He was smiling at me. He was smiling as the thing barreled out of the darkness and tore at his throat.

He was smiling as he died.

"Roddy," I shouted, my voice breaking. "Oh God, no!" I began to weep.

"Tommy! Tommy!"

His beloved voice was calling me, and I opened my one good eye, but I could see nothing beyond the horror that lurked in that wood. It confronted me, its slavering jaws agape, while the blood of my lover dripped from them.

A hand closed over my shoulder, and I writhed and cried out in pain. My breathing was harsh and labored, and the clammy sweat of despair poured from me. The man I loved above everything was dead, and there was nothing left on earth for me to live for.

And then a voice thundered in my ear. "Stand to arms, Captain!"

Years of military training had me snapping to attention and out of the nightmare. My lover’s arms held me securely. I shuddered and swiped a hand over my damp cheeks. "Roddy!" I whispered brokenly.

"Shh, sweetheart, shh. It’s all right now." He tightened his hold, and his warmth enfolded me, battling away the chill.

"Oh, God, Roddy, that was horrible!" I couldn’t bear thinking of it. "Don’t…don’t let me go just yet, love? I need to know you’re still with me."

He pressed gentle kisses to my hair. "I’ll always be with you, Tommy."

"Prove it to me!" I ordered aggressively. I tossed the blankets onto the floor. "Fuck me, Roddy! I have to have you inside me!"

I scrambled to my knees and folded my arms on the mattress, settling my head on them. Warm hands on my thighs spread them apart, and my mouth went dry. He fumbled for the jar of cream that was on the sink, and coated a finger. I twitched as the feel of the cool stuff teased my hole. He pressed a finger past the guardian muscle and searched for my sweet spot. A breathy moan told him he found it.

"Please, Roddy. Don’t make me wait! Give it to me now!"

"I’ll hurt you!" But he had withdrawn his finger, and I glanced back to see him covering his shaft with the lubricant.

"You won’t hurt me."

The tip of his cock was pushing against my hole, stretching it to accept him. I knew he had to be feeling what I felt when I was inside him, a channel like hot satin caressing turgid flesh, and I moaned.

The burn caused by his penetration wasn’t enough; I needed more. He flexed his hips, and I thrust backward at the same time, and he was buried balls deep in my arse.

He pulled back until the head of his cock was all that was in me, and then he stroked forward again.

Roddy seemed determined to keep the rhythm lazy, voluptuous, but I was having none of it. I rocked my hips impatiently, driving him against the spot that sent me spiraling out of control. Panting harshly, I uttered words that urged him to take me deeper, harder, again and again, reassuring me that he was here, and alive.

My hand reached for my cock at the same time his did. I smeared the precome that was oozing from the tip over it, and I linked his fingers with mine. Together we pumped my engorged shaft. I gasped and groaned, my inner muscles clamping down tightly as I climaxed, and he came as well. The heat of his semen as he spilled himself in me left me shuddering in mindless rapture, erasing the memory of that nightmare.

Roddy stayed draped over me, petting the hair that covered my chest and arrowed down to my groin. He scattered kisses across my shoulders, up my neck and into my sweat-drenched hair. "Better, sweetheart?" he murmured as he nibbled my earlobe.

I sighed in agreement and wriggled my arse against him before I sank down onto the mattress. Too softened to remain in my passage, he slid out of me and rolled me onto my back. His head rested above my heart.

"Roddy?"

"I’m here, sweetheart," he yawned.

"Thank you."

"Mmm." I could feel his lashes flutter against my chest as his eyes closed.

"Roddy?"

"I’m still here, sweetheart." There was satisfaction in his voice.

I swallowed. "Promise me you won’t go walking in the woods when we get back home."

Suddenly he was wide-awake. "That nightmare?"

"I know it’s foolish, but…"

"Tommy, you’re talking to someone who’s experienced the great-grandfather of all nightmares! It isn’t foolish, and I’ll promise you anything. As long as you do the same for me."

I angled myself up and tried to see his face, but our compartment was too dim. "I love you." I settled for stroking my fingers over his cheek and lips, and felt his smile.

"Mmm." He pulled me back down and settled himself on me. "Go to sleep, Tommy."

****

The dirigible landed without any incident in a field outside London. It was rather late in the day, and I was fortunate enough to be able to hail a cab to take us to Bertie’s townhouse. Johnson, his butler, opened the door to us.

My brother was pacing the hallway, dressed in evening clothes. "How bloody long does it take to find a pair of bloody gloves?" he was growling. He glanced up impatiently, and his face lit up.

"Thomas! Good God, you’re home! How splendid to see you!" Sir Henry Bertram Fortescue-Smythe, known to all and sundry as Bertie, swept me into a rib-cracking embrace. "And you, too, Roddy," he smiled over my shoulder. "When did you get back to England?"

"We’ve just now landed." I returned his hug distractedly. "Bertie, is the Mater all right?"

"Other than missing you, you mean? She’s enjoying her customary good health. Seeing young Dr. Cliffe a good deal, did you know?"

Young Dr. Cliffe, as opposed to his father, who was simply Dr. Cliffe, and who had delivered both Lawrence and me. I rather suspected she was, having seen them together after that incident with the Egyptian, Ardeth Bey, at Talbot Abbey.

I sighed in relief. "I’m home for good, Bertie."

"It’s about time you’ve done with your gallivanting." He tousled my hair, and I sighed again. Always the baby brother. "Ah, Dinah, look who’s turned up like a couple of bad pennies!"

Bertie’s wife made her way down the curving staircase, the gown she wore floating gracefully around her ankles. "Thomas, you’re back! I’m so glad to see you!" She embraced me, not caring if her gown became wrinkled, and the cloud of her perfume enveloped me. "Lady Eugenia will be so pleased to know you’re home! How long can you stay with us?"

"Just overnight, I’m afraid." I sneezed at the overpowering odor of her scent.

"Roddy!" Dinah turned to embrace him, and my lover flushed and gingerly kissed the cheek she offered him.

"I’d like to put in a trunk call to Mother, to let her know we’ll be arriving shortly. That last letter I received from her has me quite disturbed."

Bertie nodded. "I’ve just returned from seeing her. I don’t like the sound of what’s been going on in the vicinity, and I wanted the Mater to come stay with us for a bit. You know how obstinate she can be: she refused to leave. Insisted Freddie Cliffe could take care of her if the need arose. I do think she’s worried about Lawrence Talbot, however. She’s always been very fond of him!" He pulled his watch from his vest pocket. "Blast, we’re going to be late!"

"Then we’ll be late, my dear. We haven’t seen Thomas and Roddy in three years. The ball can go hang!" My sister-in-law rang for the butler. "We’ll be having dinner at home, Johnson. Nothing fancy, whatever is available in the kitchen. And would you see Mrs. Johnson has Thomas’ rooms prepared?"

I knew there was a reason why I liked my brother’s choice in wife, in spite of her atrocious taste in perfumes.

"She’s already seeing to it, M’lady. I’ll have Mr. Thomas’ and Mr. Roddy’s grips sent up."

"One moment, Mr. Johnson." Roddy remained in the hall, while Dinah looped her arm through mine and drew me into the parlor.

"How are the boys?" I asked, referring to my nephews.

The expression of pride on Bertie’s face had me mourning what I didn’t possess: children of my own.

"Hal is at Brookfield. Would you believe the young scamp is taking honors? Can’t imagine where he gets the brains!" he teased, and Dinah slapped his arm. "From what he tells me, they remember you a trifle too well, Thomas. You and that friend of yours!"

"Geo Lawrence? Good lord, I haven’t thought of him in ages! I wonder what he’s up to these days."

"He’s in civil service, last I heard," Dinah remarked, to my astonishment. "Don’t be so surprised, Thomas! I keep up with current events!" She spread out her skirts and sat on the settee. "Tris and Sig will be down as soon as they learn of your arrival, I’m sure. And after dinner I’ll take you up to the nursery to see your namesake."

"Mother complains that she and Dinah are outnumbered by all the men in the family. She wants us to try for a little girl," Bertie murmured in my ear. "Too bad you and Roddy couldn’t take the pressure off us!"

I looked away. "Yes, it is too bad."

"Thomas!" Bertie’s eyes widened, but before he could question me, Roddy entered the room, a finely crafted saddlebag slung over his shoulder.

He took one look at the tense way I held my body and crossed immediately to me. "What’s wrong?" he demanded. "Lady Genie…?"

"No. No, Mother is fine."

His relief was evident, but he was not about to let my distress go unquestioned. "Then what…?"

"My fault, Roddy. I made a joke in poor taste." Bertie was as upset as I was. "I beg your pardon, Thomas. I had no idea that was a sore spot."

Just then, loud footsteps sounded on the stairs. Two boys came pelting in, shouting at the top of their lungs, and the atmosphere was lightened. "Uncle Thomas! Uncle Roddy! You’re home, you’re home!"

Before my lover allowed himself to be distracted he gave me a look that promised he would be interrogating me about this later. They hurled themselves onto him, and he rocked back a bit under their weight.

"Tristan! Sigfried!" He hugged them. "You’ve both grown so much!"

"It’s been ages since you last saw us, Uncle Roddy! I’ll be going away to school soon! To Brookfield, with Hal!" Tris, the older boy, informed him proudly.

"And Papa says I’m too big for the nursery anymore, specially since we have Thomas now! I’m to have a tutor!" Sigfried exclaimed. He came to stand in front of me with his brother, who was solemnly offering me his hand.

"Oh, I have missed you!" Roddy said as he watched the boys, and something caught at my heart. He would make such an excellent papa.

"What did you bring us?" Sigfried demanded, unable to contain himself any longer, and my brother groaned and clapped a hand to his head.

"Tact, Dinah! The boy needs to be taught tact!"

She smiled at her husband naughtily. "Of course, my dear. First thing in the morning. Meanwhile, what did you bring us, gentlemen?"

Roddy had the saddlebag off his shoulder and into his hands with a shrug. He opened it and removed the first of the packages, which he presented to Dinah. "Ohhh!" she breathed in delight. It contained a shawl of the finest Moroccan lace.

Next he gave the boys a set of Arabian horses, carved from teak and ivory. "My friend, Sheik Ali-Es-Hadji, had them made when I told him I knew of two boys who would treasure them." They took the tiny statues with awed pleasure.

"I thought this might suit Hal," my lover said as he handed a leather bound book to Bertie. It was an original translation of The Three Musketeers, which had somehow wound up in a bazaar in North Africa, and was inscribed by Alexandre Dumas in faded blue ink.

For Little Thomas he had found a miniature uniform of the _nth, the Regiment to which I had belonged, down to a little wooden sword and rifle.

Then he handed the saddlebag to Bertie, who stroked it with appreciative fingers. "Here, what’s this?" He removed six chamois pouches and weighed them in his palm. "Marbles, Roddy?"

"Not exactly." He blushed. "Diamonds."

****

"So that’s what you were doing while I was taking care of government business," I said as we got ready for bed later that evening. "Getting gifts for the family."

"It was little enough. Did they like them, do you think?" he asked as he stood before the sink in the bath. "I’ve never had to choose presents for anyone before." He began to brush his teeth.

I pulled him back against me and grinned at his reflection. "They loved them, rosebud! You picked gifts that were guaranteed to please each one of them! Of course, Little Thomas is a bit too young to appreciate his, but in a year or so he’ll be worshipping the ground you walk on!" I turned his face and kissed him, uncaring that I was getting a mouthful of tooth powder. "Just as I do! Now hurry, I want to get you into bed and have my wicked way with you!"

I went back into the bedroom and stopped short as I saw the package on the bed. "Oh, love. You got something for me too? Is there any wonder why I love you?" I picked it up and turned it over.

"Beg pardon?" Roddy sauntered out of the bathroom. A sharp gasp drew my attention away from the box and to my lover. He had turned deathly white, and his pupils were so dilated that the blue was completely obscured. He was shaking his head. "That isn’t from me!"

"Then who…?" With the lid lifted, the fragrance of cedar rose from the satin-lined box, and I stared in shock at the object that lay inside.

Part 15

I had the phallus Bela himself had crafted to ensnare me. Somehow it had found its way to Jennie Williams’ shop, Needful Things, and I had taken it without her knowledge, although I had left some banknotes for her to find.

Now all I needed was the ointment that was guaranteed to leave the user of the phallus in thrall to me. Once both items were placed in the small cedar chest, I would see that Thomas got them.

Thomas would be unable to resist, just as I had been unable to resist. He would cover that soft black leather with the lubricant and use it to thoroughly plow his back passage.

And he would be mine, as he always should have been, as I was certain he had been destined to be, no matter what the gypsy, Maleva, sniveled.

For an instant, I considered the man with whom Thomas was living, then dismissed him as unimportant.

My skin felt hot and flushed, and my cock was hard and weeping as I imagined him on his hands and knees. I lay on my bed and stroked my shaft languorously, contemplating using the dildo myself, but then I put aside that desire. I’d wait until I had Thomas under me. My climax would be all the more powerful, my subjugation of him all the sweeter for the delay!

****

Maleva would never make the spicy-scented ointment for me. The wise woman had been against my possession of Thomas from the very beginning, when she had read the future in our palms.

But there was someone else in the gypsy camp who could do as I wished, a young woman who was being trained against the time when Maleva was no longer with the tribe.

Paloma had created the unguent for Bela, for he had told me of it one night after he had ravaged me, to his enjoyment, and mine.

"It was necessary for us to do this when Maleva was not at the vista, but my mother seemed to be at my heels every time I turned around," he said. "Finally, under the guise of courting the girl, I was able to find enough privacy for Loma to gather the ingredients and create it for me. It is very effective, don’t you find it so, my precious?"

Bela was on his knees before me, licking at my momentarily sated flesh. His blunt-tipped fingers traced the crease of my arse, finding and easily entering my lubricated anus.

The big gypsy found the spot that made me burn and rubbed it roughly. He swallowed my erection and began finger-fucking me, driving me up onto my toes with the force of his thrusts.

I was too engulfed by lust to question the ability of my spent cock to rise to the occasion once more. Bela’s teeth scored the length of my shaft, and I spilled my semen into his throat.

He laughed as he let me slip from his mouth, then pushed me onto my stomach and slammed into me, holding me motionless beneath him. It was only after he came a final time that he revealed the secret of my insatiable desire for him.

The ointment, and its ingredients, made me his slave.

****

It was dusk, the time of day when few were about. I stalked her and finally cornered her when she went to draw water from a nearby stream.

"What do you seek from me, gadje?" she demanded haughtily. The foolish female had no idea who or what I was. She thought she was a match for me.

I seized her wrist and twisted it, and her face tightened with pain. "I want the ointment that you made for Bela, Paloma."

She recoiled. "I don’t know what you’re talking about!" Paloma backed as far away as my grip would permit, which was not far at all.

"Don’t you?" I jerked her forward until we were chest to breast. "Don’t you? Bela needed that ointment, and you concocted it for him. He knew the …object… wouldn’t work without it."

Her expression became sullen. "Bela was in line to be headman. I had to obey him!"

"What makes you think you don’t have to obey me?"

"You?" Her lip curled. "You are a gadje. Son of a m’lor’ or not, if you do anything to harm me, my people will come after you and destroy you!"

I growled. "You think they will try to destroy… the loup garou?"

Her eyes widened in terror as she saw what was in my eyes. Her breathing became too rapid: she gave a thin, high-pitched cry and fainted. I sneered as I caught her, and carried her deeper into the woods. This was the one the Rom were counting on to replace Maleva, when she passed on?

Maleva would never have permitted her fear to show, if indeed she had any.

Paloma was just starting to stir as I laid her down on the matting of leaves and pine needles that covered the forest floor. I was crouched over her hips, and she shrank away from me, her hand going to the bodice of her dress. Reassured that I hadn’t attempted to strip her, she regarded me warily.

"You will prepare the ointment for me, just as you did for Bela." For a moment I thought she would continue to challenge me, but the flash of defiance wilted beneath my unrelenting gaze. She nodded reluctantly.

"If Maleva learns I did this thing you ask of me, she will see that the skin is flayed off my back!"

I had no more desire for Maleva to know what I was about than this weak-willed female did, but I had no intention of revealing that to Paloma. "Do you think that matters to me, girl? Do as I say, or worse than a whipping will befall you!"

****

As Bela had told me, the preparation of the unguent could not be done while Maleva was in the gypsy camp. She was too astute, and would realize what the girl was doing.

The entire tribe had known I was Bela’s, so I couldn’t pretend to be enamored of Paloma, and desirous of a liaison with her.

I arranged to have a message delivered to the camp requesting Maleva’s immediate aid by another band of gypsies elsewhere in the county. The headman escorted her, leaving a less experienced young man to guard the vista.

I watched from the shade of a big oak until the dust that marked the passing of their caravan settled. With as much patience as I could summon, I waited for the gypsy girl to gather the ingredients, and then summon me to her wagon.

The odor of this unguent was different, scented with patchouli, which would draw Thomas to me, just as the sandalwood had drawn me to Bela. I watched as she pounded with mortar and pestle, grated and ground, stirred and boiled.

Finally, she handed the cooling jar to me. "One final ingredient, m’lor’. You must add your essence to this. Stir it three times, then set it in a darkened spot. When it is the time of the waxing crescent moon, a thin coating must be placed on the object, and left overnight, then wiped with something that belonged to the person it will be used upon."

She paused while I considered this. I would have to find some pretext to visit Lady Eugenia and obtain something of Thomas’, a handkerchief, perhaps. I nodded my understanding, and she continued. "You know the results when used by the one it has been created for. Now, go and leave me in peace, for I swear, should you approach me again, I will go to Maleva no matter what the cost to myself!"

I bared my teeth at her. Content to see her turn pale, I left the caravan and returned home, making sure I was unseen by anyone.

No one used the observatory, not even Father, for whom I had made it.

The night sky through the clear glass of the observatory was spangled with stars that played peek-a-boo with the clouds.

In the seclusion of that glassed in space, I opened my trousers and took out my already aroused cock. The thought of mixing my semen into the ointment, which would then ease the phallus’ way into Thomas’ snug channel, had me on the point of climaxing. I braced myself against a sill and began to stroke myself. In hardly any time at all I was coming. I grabbed for the jar of ointment, and managed to get most of the white drops into it.

It took me long minutes to catch my breath, and by the time I had, my semen had sunk into the unguent. I did up my trousers, then stirred it carefully three times and set it aside in a dark place where I knew no one would find it.

I followed the rest of Paloma’s instructions to the letter, as well, waiting impatiently until the waxing of the crescent moon when I was finally able to apply the ointment to the phallus with careful fingers. Once that was done, all that remained was to rub the black leather to a high gloss with something belonging to Thomas.

Lady Eugenia saw nothing strange in me coming for a visit, although she did mention the stubble on my face. It seemed that I no sooner shaved than the blue-black of my beard would be covering my cheek and chin again.

To my great good luck, she was called away to another part of the house, and I was able to slip up to Thomas’ room. I went to the dresser that held his clothing, and abruptly decided on a set of undergarments. I stuffed them into my jacket pocket and hurried back down to the rose salon.

When Lady Eugenia returned a short while later, apologizing for having abandoned me, I brushed it aside and informed her that I had come on a pleasurable task: to invite her to my engagement party.

"Oh, Lawrence, you’re going to marry Jennie? How splendid!"

"Er, no, Lady Eugenia. I’m going to announce my engagement to Gwen Conliffe."

Her face fell, and then she blushed. "I beg your pardon, Lawrence. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I was under the impression that Jennie is carrying your child. Obviously, I was in error."

"You weren’t." My hand in my pocket closed over her son’s undergarment. "Jennie refused my offer. At any rate, Father has seen to all the arrangements." Including the proposal. I hadn’t seen Gwen Conliffe since we had taken tea together, shortly after the incident in Jennie’s shop. I dragged my mind away from that thought. " He’s very pleased with her. She’ll make an excellent wife." Lady Eugenia would have offered me a hug, but I stepped back. "May I count on your presence?"

"Of course, Lawrence. Aren’t you like a son to me?" She sighed. "I do hope you know what you’re doing."

"Of course, Lady Eugenia. I always know what I’m doing."

I could hardly wait to make my farewells and get home to wipe the dildo with the undergarment. I almost came from the thought that soon, soon Thomas would become mine.

From somewhere deep inside of me, a voice was crying, "This is wrong! You cannot do this to Thomas, not if you love him!"

I forced the puling, whining admonition back into the recesses of my soul. It was because I loved Thomas that I was doing this!

I ran up the steps of Talbot Abbey and strode up to my suite of rooms. Behind the paneling in a corner was a secret compartment, and it was there that I had concealed the objects I intended for my best friend. An almost electrical shock ran through my fingers and up my arm as I covered the black leather with the soft white material and rubbed it thoroughly.

When I was done, I placed the phallus and the jar of ointment into a small cedar chest, similar to the one Bela had sent me. I fastened the latch and set it aside.

I needed to touch the article of clothing that had been worn against Thomas’ body. I stroked it, held it up to my face, breathed deeply, but the only scent I got was the patchouli that would enthrall him to me.

Ruefully, I put it on the bed. Something about that undergarment kept drawing my attention, and I examined it more carefully, then dismissed the odd notion that it was a trifle smaller than someone of my friend’s build might wear. After all, it had been quite a long time since I had seen Thomas.

I shrugged the thought aside and went down to the study to wrap the cedar chest. After I covered it with brown paper, I rang for a servant. "Ah, Winston. I’ll need one of the footmen to run an errand up to Town for me." I handed him the package, Thomas Fortescue-Smythe scrawled across the top, with the address of his brother Bertie’s townhouse. "See that this arrives before moon rise tonight."

There wouldn’t be a full moon for a number of days yet, and I would have plenty of time to savor what Thomas would be doing with my gift.

****

I knew immediately that something had gone wrong. I could almost scent how amiss it had gone!

I should have felt something when Thomas opened the box containing the black leather dildo and had taken it out. Bela had told me he knew immediately when I touched the phallus, and when I had inserted it into my arse he had almost come.

Yet there was nothing.

Perhaps the ointment wasn’t the correct one. Yes, that was probably what the problem was.

That little bitch of a gypsy had fucked me over. She must have given me a lubricant that was totally useless.

I would have to find another way to make Thomas mine.

Part 16

Roddy’s POV

We had been away too long.

Tommy and I returned from Africa only partially because it was time to come home. Even if his former superior in London had offered him one more mission, Tommy would not have accepted it. Lady Genie’s most recent letter, which had reached us in Nairobi, made my lover exceedingly nervous. People and animals were being found slaughtered, much too close to Fortescue Manor.

By the time our airship, le Vert Fromage, landed in England, it was too late in the day to continue on to Kent. We broke our journey at his brother’s London townhouse.

Bertie Fortescue-Smythe and his wife, Dinah, had been about to go out for the evening. When they saw us on their doorstep, they ordered our rooms and a meal prepared and then sent ‘round their regrets, insisting it was more pleasurable to spend time with their travel-weary prodigals.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that my lover’s brother and sister-in-law would so casually cancel long-standing plans, and yet it never failed to amaze me how easily they accepted me.

"This is Roddy Sayer," Tommy had announced when he first introduced me to Bertie and Dinah. It didn’t matter to him that I wasn’t in the same social strata as his family, that I was merely the younger brother of a not-very-competent African missionary. "He’s mine, and I’m keeping him!"

And that was all there was to it.

The four of us sat down to dinner, their sons having already eaten in the schoolroom, and Bertie caught us up on the most recent news from Kent. Things there were even more disquieting than we had first assumed.

Colonel Montford, the constable, was starting to suspect that the gypsies who camped on Talbot land might know more about the deaths than they were telling, but he couldn’t get them to reveal a single thing.

"Stupid get," Bertie muttered. "As if they’d talk to anyone who wasn’t Rom!"

Dinah slid her fingers over his and gave them a squeeze. "Don’t worry so, beloved," she said softly. His hand turned under hers, and palm caressed palm.

Uncertain how they would feel knowing that their overt show of affection had been witnessed, I glanced away. My eyes tangled with my lover’s. His gaze was tender, and I suddenly realized it wouldn’t matter: I was family.

My lips parted, and my tongue peeked out to moisten them. Tommy’s smile promised a night of overpowering passion. I shifted in my seat to ease the constriction of my trousers.

His smile faded. "We’ll see to it that the Mater is safe, I promise you, Bertie," Tommy murmured as he picked up his glass of wine and twirled it between his fingers, observing the overhead lights reflecting off the ruby tones.

I shivered. The wine looked like blood.

****

My lover thought I was the most easy-going person he had ever met.

He had seen me cross, when he teased me. He had seen me angry, when I thought he was taking foolish risks.

But he had never, ever seen me in a fury.

Until that night.

I was brushing my teeth when Tommy called from the bedroom, "Oh, love. You got something for me too? Is there any wonder why I love you?"

"Beg pardon?" I joined him in the other room, and stopped abruptly at the sight of what he held. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end, and I could feel the blood drain from my face. I shook my head, forcing the words out of dried lips. "That isn’t from me!"

"Then who…?" Tommy opened the box and stared inside. His eye widened in shock.

"What…?" I was beside him, peering into the chest, and I recoiled from the miasma of dark desire that seemed to emanate from it.

Within were a rather large, black leather phallus, and a pretty porcelain jar. As if in a trance, my lover removed it from the box, completely ignoring the phallus. Blindly, he thrust the chest at me, uncaring whether I caught it or dropped it to the floor.

I felt a flash of fear, which rapidly evolved into rage. What was the meaning of such a gift? And who would send it to him?

I curled my lip as I gazed down at the phallus, impervious to the tendrils of lust that seemed to be snaking out to envelope and possess me. Whatever spell had been woven into this was ineffectual compared to the ancient Egyptian wizard who had crafted the Black Pearls of Anubis.

According to legend, the Pearls were an object of sexual domination. Inserted into the anus, and removed at the point of orgasm, they rendered the wearer, body and soul, the possession of the person who placed the Pearls.

I liked that idea.

Tommy had used those Pearls on me, before destroying them to keep them out of the hands of the Egyptian, Ardeth Bey.

And while the phallus seemed to try to exert its hold over me, it held no allure.

My attention was drawn back to my lover, and I set the chest down on a nightstand. His fingers stroked over the swell of the jar, fondling it with the intense, loverlike concentration that was usually reserved for me. With languid movements, he began to unscrew the lid.

The jar contained a pale, biscuit-colored lotion, scented with a fragrance I couldn’t name.

Tommy inhaled deeply, and his eye closed in rapture. "Patchouli!" he breathed, and I saw his cock harden.

I knew he favored that scent and frequently wore it when he made love to me. Whenever that aroma tickled my nostrils, I knew I was in for a long night of passion.

There was something else mingling with the patchouli, though. The odor that wafted up from the ointment almost caused me to gag, and I backed away from it, a hand clasped over my nose and mouth.

But Tommy leaned toward it eagerly. He was about to scoop up a bit of the stuff when the silver chain he wore around his neck somehow tangled in his fingers. He cried out as if startled out of a dream, and the jar fell from his grasp.

I lunged for it and managed to catch it before it could land and splatter its contents all over the carpet, then bolted to the bathroom, holding my breath so I wouldn’t vomit. I upended the jar and shook what it contained into the commode and flushed it down.

I returned to our bedroom and retrieved the cedar chest, dropping the jar into it beside the phallus. Then I closed the lid with a snap and latched it.

"Where did this come from?"

Tommy appeared dazed for a moment, then shook his head and stared at me in consternation. "What…what just happened?"

Someone was trying to ensnare my lover. Although I had no idea how I could be so sure of that, I knew it as clearly as I knew my name.

I also knew that when I got my hands on whoever it was, I’d have his guts for garters.

I seized the bell pull and gave it such a furious yank that it was torn from the wall. Down in the butler’s pantry I could imagine the bell’s strident clangor would be summoning the butler.

Before too long, Johnson came hurrying to see what was wrong. He took one look at the savagery on my face and backed away.

"How did this get here?" I demanded in a tight voice, shoving the small cedar chest toward him.

Johnson cast a questioning glance at Tommy. "Why…why, it was delivered a short while ago," he said hesitantly. "I brought it directly to your room, sir."

"Who was it from?" I snapped.

"It was delivered by someone from Talbot Abbey." The butler backed up a step as I approached him. "Sir, I…"

After several deep breaths I was able to bring my emotions under control. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Johnson. It was unforgivable of me to shout at you. Please see that this is disposed of in the trash." I handed him the chest.

His expression was torn as he glanced again at his employer’s brother. The chest was very finely crafted, and it seemed a shame to throw it away on a whim. Tommy nodded grimly, and the butler gave a sigh. He took it and was about to leave, when he paused at the door. "Just one other thing, sir. The young man who handed it to me told me his orders were that I was to be sure Mr. Thomas got it before moon rise."

I stared involuntarily out of the window, at the fat, white sphere of the moon as it rose above the roofs of London. "*Bugger*!"

Part 17

Tommy’s POV

The legend attached to the Pearls of Anubis linked the one they were used on irrevocably to the one who used them, but I was tied to Roddy Sayer just as strongly as he was to me.

My lover had contracted a putrid sore throat, once. It wasn’t in the least similar to what had carried Father off, but I was terrified it would become fatal, especially when his temperature rose and he began to speak in a language I was unfamiliar with.

"You’re not leaving me, Roddy Sayer!" I hissed in his ear as he lay there sweating out the fever. "I’ll come after you, don’t think I won’t! And believe me, you won’t be happy! Now, get well, goddammit!"

Shortly afterwards, he started to get better, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I had the doctor seeing him every day, although he swore Roddy was on the road to recovery. I made Dr. Cliffe give me a tincture that he promised would speed my lover’s recuperation.

"I’m fine, Tommy." Roddy’s tone was fretful. "Stop fussing, do! It’s nothing!"

I stood beside his bed, tapping my foot impatiently. I frowned mightily as I shoved the spoon filled with a thick, brown liquid into my lover’s pouting mouth.

"Yes, well, that’s how it started with Father. I’m not taking any chances on losing you, Roddy Sayer! Now take your medicine!" He pretended to gag, but swallowed it down. "I love you, rosebud. I’ll love you until the end of time."

"I don’t know how you can, Tommy." Warm color climbed his cheeks. "I’m nothing special."

"Nothing special? You’re angling for compliments, aren’t you, love? Well, I’ll pander to you, but only because you’re ill. You’re a good man, Roddy. You care about your country and your friends. You're sweet-tempered," he pulled a face, and I knew I'd better change the subject before I became maudlin. "And you have a mouth..." I leaned close enough to taste those lush lips, but restrained myself. I’d kiss them when he was feeling more the thing. "Oh, that mouth! I could be dead and buried six feet under, and I'd still want that mouth!"

****

Roddy felt the need to mark me as his that night, the night I found that chest on our bed. He drove into me deep and hard, and the burn made me cry out and beg for more. And then he flipped me over and swallowed me to the root, sucking vigorously. I shuddered to a bone-melting orgasm, spilling myself in his throat.

My lover surged forward, bracing my legs over his forearms, and his cock slid smoothly into my back passage once more. He stretched up to reach my mouth, taking it, sharing my taste with me.

His cheek rested against mine, and his breath whistled in my ear as he fucked me with a steady rhythm. "I love you, Tommy. I won’t let anyone take you from me!" With a groan he began to come, and the heat of his climax scalded me.

I murmured happily and relaxed beneath him. Between one heartbeat and the next, I was deeply asleep.

****

When I first lost the sight in my right eye I dreamed every night that my vision was once again whole.

I’d waken, depressed, to find that nothing had changed.

Since Roddy Sayer had entered my life again, the dreams came less and less, and those times when my sleep was disturbed, he was there, so warm, so solid, and so uncaring that I was no longer perfect, that I tumbled hopelessly in love with him once again.

So I knew, when I opened my eyes and could see clearly from both of them, that this was just a dream.

I was walking through an enormous room. Sunlight streamed through the windows, highlighting the hieroglyphs, which covered the walls, filtering through the enormous marble pillars that supported the arched ceiling. At the far end, gradually growing more clear the closer I approached, was a large throne, in front of which stood an equally large, jackal-headed statue.

At the statue’s side was a slim figure that was clothed in a white linen kilt. The way he held himself was vaguely familiar, and for a second I thought it was my lover, Roddy Sayer, but then I realized that this young man was not as fair. His midnight hair flowed over his shoulder in a scalp lock, and his eyes were a fathomless black.

As I drew to a halt before him, those eyes, so similar in expression to my lover’s, unsettled me, observing me solemnly. I tore my gaze away from them, and concentrated on the statue.

To realize it was not a statue, but the living god. The massive chest, covered in sleek black fur, rose and fell with each breath. Slender hips were draped by a cloth of gold kilt, held by ropes of precious jewels and fastened by a sapphire as large as my fist that reflected the color of his eyes. Strong thighs, the muscles well defined, were braced negligently apart. At their apex was the outline of his cock, emphasized by the snug girth of the material.

I licked suddenly dry lips and bowed my head respectfully. "Sir."

I couldn’t remember much about the time Roddy and I had spent on the altar stone in the temple that Ardeth Bey’s followers had constructed beneath Talbot Abbey, but I did remember we would never have escaped without the intervention of Anubis, the god of the dead.

He said nothing, but continued to study me intently.

I swallowed, more nervous than I could ever remember being. Did he intend to take my lover away from me? "Why have I been brought here, Sir?"

"You do not accord me the reverence due a god." It was hard to tell whether it was a question or a statement.

Bloody hell! Had I offended him by not groveling before him? "Beg pardon, Sir," I offered. "I’m Church of England." // Oh, very clever response, Tommy Smythe! A sure way to get this ancient one out of charity with you!//

A lip curled over very long, very sharp teeth. "Soon a crossroads will be reached, mortal. A love from your past will seek to claim you. It will be your choice, whether to remain with the love you have now, or reject it for the love you had then."

"I don’t understand." Reject Roddy? Impossible! Curiosity niggled at me. For whom? Archie? He would not expect me to turn away from the love I now had. And at any rate, he was gone.

The god seemed to know what was in my mind. "Not the sergeant. The shape-shifter." He read the confusion in my eyes, and shook his head, wryly amused. "You will be given a short amount of time to make your decision."

"I don’t need any amount of time. Roddy is mine!"

The god would have spoken again, but I interrupted him with a slashing movement of my hand.

"I don’t want anyone else, and I’m not giving him back!"

Those jackal-jaws parted. I shivered but refused to look away, and the god nodded in approval. "A wise choice has been made, Ankhsunamen," he said as he ran a clawed hand gently over the black hair.

The young man leaned against the large figure, and raised eyes filled with adoration. "Yes, my lord." There was satisfaction in his voice. "A wise choice, indeed."

****

Paloma’s POV

I tried to sneer at the gadje’s words. Did he think to frighten me, with his big talk? There was no way he could hurt me, threats of the loup garou or no, I staunchly insisted to the tiny, whimpering voice at the back of my mind.

I didn’t even really fear Maleva, I assured myself. If she ever learned I had made the ointment of the wolf for both her son, and the m’lor’, the most I risked was being exiled from the vista. Nothing else would be done to me.

Nothing!

I recalled when Bela had followed me to my brother’s caravan, and cornered me in the cramped space within. He had threatened to plant a whelp in my belly if I did not obey him. The thought of being taken by the wolf and bearing his cub terrified me, so I prepared the ointment.

I had done the same for the gadje, following the recipe to the letter, changing only the scent that would draw his victim to him.

Why had I put myself in danger of banishment by complying with his desires?

My shoulders sank in defeat, and I glanced furtively at my palm. I was afraid of him.

****

Maleva sent for me, and I went to her caravan, eaten up with nerves.

I clenched my hands into fists and hid them behind my back. "Y--yes, Maleva?" I still feared that at any time she might seize my palm and discover in it what I had done.

She looked up from the table where she was examining a deck of Tarot cards. "I have a task for you, my child." Carefully she levered herself up, her hand going to the small of her back and rubbing as if in pain. "I have received a message from the lady in the village." She went to a small cupboard that was set into the side of the caravan and withdrew a vial.

The entire vista knew the lady of whom the wise woman spoke, the blonde woman from Upper Uncton. She carried the child of the m’lor’, was talked of in hushed tones and fearful whispers.

"Is she well, Maleva? Her time is not near."

"The lady is as well as she can be. She will need this, my child; her babe is very special. This will provide the child with additional protection against any who would harm her."

"Why me, Maleva?" I hesitated before I reached for the bottle.

"I am in too much pain to go to her. You will one day be wise woman, no? This will be good training for you. I want you to examine the lady, and when you return to the vista, come back to my wagon and tell me of your findings. You question my decision, Paloma?" she asked sharply as I paused in the doorway of the caravan. I opened my mouth to speak, then shook my head and jumped down to the ground.

I looked up into the evening sky. The moon would be full this night. If I took the short cut through the woods, I could be to the village and back well before the moon rose. And the gadje should be too intent with completing his plans of subjugation to give a thought to me.

But just to be on the safe side, I would make sure I didn’t dally.

****

Montford’s POV

I was having a solitary tea when Victor Twiddle, my assistant, brushed past the woman who did for me. Due to a marked lack of intelligence, he had been unable to fight in the Great War, and that was his life’s regret. So he studied the manuals and insisted on saluting at every opportunity.

"Colonel! We got us another one, sir!" Twiddle brought his heels together smartly, nearly unbalancing himself, and saluted.

I sighed. "Bloody hell, Victor! Can’t you at least wait until Mrs. Roberts shows you in? What do you think I pay the woman for?" I threw the napkin that had been raised to my lips onto the tray and waved my housekeeper off. "Now, what were you saying?"

For a moment it seemed he was about to salute again. I glowered at him and he thought better of it. "In the woods, Colonel! A body!"

Something was going on, and I was afraid I knew only too well what it was. City people had a tendency to abandon their unwanted curs here in the country, and when the dogs grew hungry and banded together, I had to deal with the slaughter that was the aftermath. Cattle, and now, it seemed, people. Victor’s brother had been a victim. George Twiddle’s body was found just inside the forest, mangled almost beyond recognition. Damned wild dogs.

"Are you certain, Victor?"

"Of course I’m certain, sir. I’ve seen bodies before, and this was definitely a body!"

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. It was my ill fortune to be cursed with an assistant who was thick as a brick.

"The dog pack?" He nodded. "How bad?"

"As bad as can be, sir. Parts all over the forest floor. A leg here, an arm there..."

"Very well, Twiddle. No need to go into such grim detail. Any idea who it might be?"

"Didn’t I say, sir? Oh, beg pardon, I’m sure. It was a female this time. Looks like it might have been one of them gypsies that was camped on Sir John’s land."

****

Tommy’s POV

I woke up gradually, to the feel of feather touches tracing the muscles of my back, down to the curves of my arse. I shifted, parting my legs, giving my lover better access to whatever he chose to explore. "Roddy."

"I’m here, sweetheart," he whispered.

"Again, love?"

"Again," he agreed, and his head dipped. I jerked as I felt his tongue stroke across my hole, and then press forward to penetrate me.

My hands clenched on the sheets and I groaned, rocking forward to rub my abruptly aroused cock against the sheets, and then arching back to get more of that teasing tongue into me.

Roddy’s fingers squeezed my arse cheeks with bruising force, separating them. Slick fingers replaced his tongue, and I cried out, certain my heart would stop beating. I was still so ready from earlier that it didn’t take much to loosen and relax me.

I was begging him not to make me wait, to take me hard, and he complied, slamming into me, hitting my sweet spot. My lover twined his fingers with mine and surged over me. Along my back I could feel the dusting of hair that covered his chest and groin.

Roddy slid his thighs further apart, widening the space between my own thighs. He undulated rhythmically against me, driving me into the mattress, and I gasped, whimpering for breath. His weight kept me pinned down.

"Please!" I moaned. He released my hands and hoisted me up onto my knees, then reached beneath me to begin pumping my cock. I dropped my head and trembled, letting him do as he would with me.

The blood was pounding in my head, matching the beat of the blood that flowed to my cock. Another stroke, in my arse, to my weeping prick, and we came together, he flooding my bowels, while I filled his hands.

Carefully, Roddy eased me to my side and spooned against my back, nuzzling the soft hair behind my ear. I hummed with repletion, and we both began the slide toward slumber.

****

The Wolf’s POV

I had to reach him before the moon sank behind the horizon. Ears flattened, tongue lolling, my body low to the ground, I raced over the countryside.

Trees, houses, towns flashed by in the blink of an eye, and then I had reached the edge of the stinking metropolis that was London. My nose wrinkled, and I whined in protest at the smells that bombarded that sensitive organ.

The human’s memories led me where I needed to go. I made my way through the darkness, no one seeing me, because I had no wish to be seen.

Not as with the foolish gypsy girl. She had known, the whole way to the forest, that I was tracking her. If she had any sense, she would have begged to stay with the lady, but she was so certain of making the safety of the camp.

Of course, she hadn’t. I ran a tongue over my lupine smile, catching the last sweet taste of her blood.

There! That was the house! I scrambled up to the small balcony that was off his window. The curtain was not fully closed, and I was able to peer past the gauzy stuff.

He lay on the bed, naked. I could see the fine hairs that covered his chest and groin, could make out the soft length of his cock against his thigh. Suddenly I saw a hand reach around to pet his chest, and his hands came up to close over it and hold it snug to him.

Too late! I threw my head back and howled my rage to the moon.

I took a step back and then flung myself forward against the glass, and it shattered under my weight. I landed in the bedroom and raised my head, drawing in a deep breath. The air was filled with the scent of their lovemaking, and I howled again in fury. He should have been mine!

The figures on the bed were scrambling back away from me. Yes. It was good that they feared me, that they both feared me.

With a single easy bound, I was on the bed with them. My mate needed to be punished. Perhaps, after I had him in abject submission on his belly under me, bloody and beaten, perhaps then I would forgive him. But first I would destroy the other one, the one who stole what was mine.

To my utter shock, he threw himself in front of the other, to protect him! How could that be? Very well, then I would destroy him also!

I leaped toward he who should have been my mate, and my jaws snapped shut, just short of his throat. The other had pulled him back out of my reach. The movement caused the chain around his neck to swing free, and it struck me across my cheek and muzzle.

I gave a cry of pain at the awful burning sensation.

The pain seemed to free the human within. Torn between the horror of what I had almost done and the rage at the betrayal of my mate, I spun around and leaped from the window.

I landed wrong, shattering a foreleg. Somehow I managed to get to my feet and limp away. I knew I left behind a puddle of blood and fur.

I had to return home to Talbot Abbey. Slipping from shadow to shadow, I made my way to the outskirts of London, and found a lorry that was heading in the right direction. I crawled under the tarp that covered the bed, and lay on my side, panting, waiting while the moon worked its magic and my injuries healed themselves.

****

Lawrence’s POV

By the time the lorry had reached Lower Uncton, I was once again in human form. I ached, but there was no sign of broken bones and gouged flesh. I rolled out of the truck, landing on trembling legs.

Exhausted, I stumbled through the night. I had to reach home before I was missed.

"My son!" It was the gypsy, Maleva. She hobbled out of the shadows that concealed her caravan.

I backed away from her, ashamed to have her see me naked, ashamed to be seen with the mark of the beast on me. But I was too weary to run any more, and I sank to the ground, huddling in on myself.

Her arms wrapped themselves around me, and she tipped my head back, tracing the wounds that Thomas’ silver chain had burned across my face. The moon was powerless to erase that brand. Her hand was gentle as it brushed the hair off my forehead. "Oh, my poor son! Did I not tell you the young sir was not for you?"

I dropped my head to her breast and wept.

Part 18

Sir John’s POV

I was feeling my age.

My older sons had been lost: to a foolish War and an even more foolish hunting accident. And my youngest son… The distance between us was greater now than when the Atlantic Ocean had separated us.

At my behest, Lawrence returned to England. But he had no sooner arrived at my home in London, then he was off to Kent, to assess the extent of the damage, he said.

The extent of the damage…

I no longer had an interest in astronomy, although I was rather touched that he had seen the Abbey was equipped with an observatory.

Had I remembered to thank him for that?

I made him replace the light wood paneling in my study with the darker wall coverings that my first wife had selected for it, only discovering afterwards how that arbitrary decision had wounded him.

It seemed that most of my decisions regarding Lawrence wounded him.

****

I knew permitting my wife, Helena to take our son to Canada might cause a breach between Lawrence and myself. I just had no idea it would extend into his adult years.

At the time I had acted in what I thought were the boy’s best interests, but Lawrence never knew, and he never forgave me for allowing his mother to take him to Canada. He thought I was unaware that he hated the country, hated her for taking him away, and most of all hated me for letting him go without a struggle.

I knew. His mother made sure I knew.

"Sir John! Sir John!"

I flinched at the sound of her strident voice, then struggled to contain my expression. "Yes, my love?"

Helena burst into the conservatory, then came to a halt and scanned the area until she spotted me. Her stride mannish and no nonsense, she hurried to where I sat beneath a lemon tree, a book of cosmographical treatises on my knee. "The most dreadful thing, Sir John!" Her face was flushed an unbecoming shade, and I wondered how I ever could have considered her features similar to my beloved Harriet. "There are rumors flying throughout the countryside!"

I sighed. There usually were. "Who are the poor souls being subjected to gossip-mongering this time, Helena?"

Her eyes were lit by an evangelical fervor, and a frisson of unease crept up my spine. "That horrid woman’s boy from the next estate! And your son."

I deliberately ignored the first part of her remark. Ever since Lady Eugenia had shamed her into caring for Lawrence, Helena had found fault with every aspect of her personality. "Which son? When last I looked, I had three of them."

Her lip curled as if my other sons counted for nothing. It was fortunate they were past the need of her care. One of my greatest regrets was marrying a woman for the sake of providing my motherless sons with a feminine influence, and instead giving them Helena Ware.

"Lawrence!" she snapped. Almost overcome with venom, she continued, "And Thomas Fortescue-Smythe!"

I rose and began to walk away from her, unwilling to meet the triumph in her gaze. She would like nothing better than to separate those two. "What have they done, my love?" I heard my words, and was suddenly shocked by how meaningless that phrase, ‘my love’, had become.

Helena’s fingers dug into my arm. She leaned forward and began to speak furiously in a lowered voice, imparting the ‘knowledge’ that they had been spotted by a boy from Lower Uncton doing something that no gentleman would be caught doing. Paul Montford, the constable’s son, had sidled up to my wife while she was paying duty calls in the village, and whispered what he had observed in her ear. "They were seen fondling one another!"

She was further incensed when I casually dismissed the words as unfounded poppycock. Lawrence and Thomas had been fast friends all their lives, even sharing a cradle at one time. I refused to believe that two such upright young men were engaging in frowned-upon acts.

"If you don’t do anything to bring a halt to your son’s …deviant…behavior, Sir John," she threatened, "I’ll make a scandal the district will not soon forget, I promise you!"

The Fortescue-Smythes had lived on the neighboring estate for longer than the Talbots had been in Kent. I had no desire for Helena to drive a wedge between the two families. But neither did I have the energy to battle my wife any longer.

"What do you suggest I do, Helena? Ship him across the Atlantic?" I asked wearily.

"Anything! I want him away from that awful boy!" Her glance became sly as she considered the words I had so carelessly tossed at her. "Yes, that might be an excellent idea!"

I stared at her blankly, and she glared at me.

"Send Lawrence to my family in Canada. Once he’s away from the influence of that…that sodomite, he’ll be my own loving son again. I’ll go with him to make sure he gets there safe and sound, and rectify any harm that might have been done!"

I was too relieved to question her sudden willingness to abandon the position she had wanted enough to marry me for. Perhaps that was my first mistake. Or perhaps it was just one in an on-going series of ill considered, best intentions.

****

I saw the need to have Talbot Abbey rebuilt as the perfect excuse to summon Lawrence home. There was nothing to keep him in Canada as the relationship between him and his mother had deteriorated well beyond chilly tolerance.

With both John and Harry gone, I wanted my only surviving son within speaking distance, so-to-speak.

I hadn’t counted on Lawrence’s resentment. After my first few attempts to join him in Kent were politely rebuffed I remained in London, getting the news from home from my gameskeeper, Andrews. The family had been in service to mine for donkey’s years. The other brothers were in Town with me. Andrews, the elder, was my butler, while Andrews, the younger, was my chauffeur.

They were all dependable men, and I knew I could count on Andrews, the middle one, the gameskeeper, to keep an eye on my son, and keep me abreast of events.

Lawrence would need to marry, if only for the sake of the line. I brought Gwen Conliffe to Talbot Abbey, hoping she might interest my youngest son. She would make a perfect Lady Talbot: John would have loved her.

Lawrence made every excuse to avoid her.

The last straw was when I learned of Jennie Williams’ interesting condition. "We’ll just have to see about getting the child away from her," I informed Lawrence, pleased to learn that he could at least father a child. I had been beginning to worry that perhaps Helena’s suspicions all those years ago were a possibility. "I won’t have my grandson being raised by a shopkeeper!"

I airily dismissed the improbable notion that my grandchild might be a female.

Instead of falling in with my plans as I expected, indeed as he had always done, Lawrence had lost his temper and snarled, "Damn you, Father! Make the arrangements for my marriage with Gwen Conliffe, or marry the bloody girl yourself, but leave Jennie Williams alone!"

He flung himself out of the house. I was appalled by his behavior, but I had no intention of letting that interfere with my undertaking. Would he, wouldn’t he, I would see to it there was a new generation of Talbots in Talbot Abbey.

I went to the master suite and withdrew a jewel box from the safe. Jumbled within were the gems I had given my first wife, as well as some Talbot heirlooms I had managed to withhold from my second, including the Talbot betrothal ring. I removed it and dusted in on my jacket sleeve. Then I sought out Gwen Conliffe, and we began to plan a wedding.

****

Andrews, the butler, had been sent to request Lawrence’s presence in the breakfast room of Talbot Abbey. I glanced restively at my watch, then put the timepiece away in my vest pocket and returned to reading the local newspaper.

It was filled with the gruesome details of another brutal murder. This made four in the last month. Beastly business.

Someone entered the breakfast room. I made him wait while I finished perusing an editorial that rather snidely demanded to know where our constabulary was while these innocent people were being torn limb from limb.

Paul Montford, a retired colonel who had succeeded his father in the position of constable, was a good enough man, but he was better suited for arresting poachers and settling property disputes than solving crimes. I always assumed his position in the military was among the pencil pushers.

Finally I raised my eyes.

It was not my son who stood there waiting until I deigned to notice him. I sighed. "I beg your pardon, Andrews," I said to my butler. "Where is Mr. Lawrence?"

"I knocked and knocked, Sir John. Mr. Lawrence isn’t answering his door."

"Damn! What’s wrong with my son! Very well, I’ll wake him myself. Thank you, Andrews."

He waited until I had preceded him out of the door, then followed me into the great hall.

The front door opened quietly, and there was my son, barefoot, wavering on legs that were clothed in the most outlandish garment I had seen outside a gypsy camp.

The trousers were baggy and ended just below the knee, leaving his calves dimpled with goose bumps. The dingy white shirt, covered by a varicolored vest, was unbuttoned. His torso was exposed, and I was startled by the amount of chest hair he had. Surely Talbots had never been that hairy.

He raised his head, and I couldn’t contain my gasp of shock. Lawrence’s eyes were dull, filled with despair. From the corner of his jaw, cutting deep across his cheek and nose to just beneath his left eye was a livid burn. He began to slide to the floor, and I managed to catch him before he collapsed.

"Andrews, telephone Dr. Cliffe at once! I want him here immediately!" I cradled my son in my arms. "Lawrence, my poor boy! What’s happened to you?"

"Yes, that’s what I’d like to know!"

My son moaned as if he were in pain. In the doorway stood two men, tension almost vibrating off them: the man who had been Lawrence’s best friend as a boy, and another whose posture declared, ‘I protect what is mine!’

"Thomas? What is the meaning of this?"

The younger man stepped forward, the expression on his face hard. "Your son has an odd taste in gifts, Sir John."

"Roddy! Let me handle this!" Thomas laid a gentling hand on the other’s arm, and he struggled to calm himself. "I do need the answers to some questions, sir."

I chewed on my lip, irresolute.

"Not now, Father, please!" my son begged, and I came to a sudden decision.

"Lawrence is in need of a doctor’s care. You can see him tomorrow, if Dr. Cliffe has no objections to that."

"Tomorrow will be too late!" the one Thomas called Roddy stated flatly.

"Young man…"

"He’s right, Father." I had never seen my son look so defeated. "There will be another full moon tonight."

"What does that have to say about anything?"

"Father, help me up, please?"

I slid my arm around Lawrence’s shoulders and assisted him to his feet. He swayed for a moment, then stood free of me. "Lawrence, please. I don’t know what’s wrong, but you need to lie down!"

"Soon, Father. Soon I will have all the time in the world to rest."

Part 19

Tommy’s POV

The sounds coming from my bedroom in Bertie’s house woke the entire household. Before the wolf had reached the pavement beneath my window, lights had been turned on, bedroom doors flung opened and voices demanding to what all the ruckus was about sounded throughout the house.

Roddy and I just had enough time to drag on our dressing gowns before my brother burst into the room.

"What in bloody hell are you two up to?" he roared. Then he caught sight of the bed. "*Bloody hell*!" I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head.

The sheets were in shreds. Spatters of blood and bits of fur speckled the floor. Shattered glass from the windowpanes glistened on the rug like shards of diamonds.

Dinah had followed her husband in and recoiled at the sight. "Oh, dear Lord! What happened?"

Roddy had pulled himself together by this time. "It must have been a rabid dog," he murmured, fingering the soft, black fur. He shivered.

I glared at him. Thoughts of a rabid dog would terrify a woman with small children in the house. "Of course it wasn’t a dog, Roddy. You must have been dreaming. It was a …a…" All right, Smythe, think! What must it have been? "A gypsy!"

Roddy gave me an exasperated look. "Very nice, Thomas! That won’t disturb her in the least!"

I knew he was put out with me. He never called me Thomas unless he was. I just wasn’t sure if it was because I had thrown myself between him and the wolf, or for my asinine statement.

Bertie stood there with his jaw agape, listening to us try to come up with a plausible reason for raising the house in the middle of the night. "Are you planning to tell us next that it was a nightmare? That won’t wash, old chap. Nightmares do not break windows!"

My lover and I exchanged glances, and I shrugged and started pulling out clothes. We’d need to get home as soon as possible. "Bert, old sod, you’re not going to believe this, but…" And I began to tell them what had happened.

****

Roddy drove like a lunatic. He told Dinah we were taking her car, latched his fingers on my sleeve, and dragged me out of Bertie’s townhouse and round to the mews where the vehicles were kept.

I knew Roddy could drive. He’d told me he needed something to keep himself occupied while I was tracking down those petty government officials in those tiny African nations, and so he had learned. I had just never driven with him before.

Roddy had cranked up the engine and was seated behind the wheel, his fingers drumming on it impatiently as the engine revved. He barely waited for me to close the passenger door before he tramped heavily on the accelerator, and the little MG leaped forward. It was a good thing it was so late. The streets of London were fairly empty, and we got out of Town without any mishaps.

We had determined to visit the gypsy camp first, and I directed Roddy on the shortest cut to our corner of Kent. On the open road, the little sports car ate up the distance. Its Dunlop Cord tyres slip-slided over the occasional wet and muddy stretches of road. I glanced over at the dials and moaned when I saw the actual speed. The wind whipped my hair back off my forehead and drew tears from my eye.

Roddy had the MG up to its top speed. His mouth was set in a grim line, but he navigated the distance with easy competence.

I swallowed and moistened my lips, and tightened my grip on the seat. I had never traveled in a land vehicle that went so fast.

And I had to wonder what my brother was about, to give a tiny woman like Dinah such a powerful automobile. When I said as much to Roddy, shouting over the whistle of the wind caused by our passing, he turned his head to look at me. "Do you doubt Dinah could handle this little beauty?"

"Keep your bloody eyes on the road!" I shouted at him. "Are you daft, you bleeding wanker?"

I could see the slash of white in his face as his lips parted, and he grinned, relaxing a bit for the first time since the implosion of glass into our room signaled the beginning of the nightmare. Deliberately, I shoved the thought of the beast that would have savaged my lover into the recesses of my mind.

"A wanker, am I? Not likely with you around, Tommy Smythe!"

"I beg your pardon," I said frostily.

"I haven’t had to do that since you tricked me into bed with you in Cairo! If this wasn’t such an urgent matter, I’d be tempted to pull over into that grove of trees we’re passing…that we just passed, and have you right here in this automobile!"

"Sex? You’re thinking about sex, at a time like this?" But his words made me smile and helped me to relax a bit myself.

"Yes, I rather think I am. Must be all that adrenaline rushing through my blood stream."

"Bloody hell, Roddy!" "Would you like me to tell you what I’d have done if we didn’t need to be home quicker than the cat could lick her ear? Want to hear how I’d have licked my way down your body? By the way, have I ever mentioned that your navel drives me wild?"

I couldn’t speak. Roddy, being the brother of a missionary, was usually the most reserved of men. The image he painted with his words had me hard, and I moaned as I rubbed the heel of my hand over my arousal. "You do pick your moments!"

He glanced at me quickly, then returned his attention to his driving. "And that’s why you love me, isn’t it, Tommy? Because you know that no matter what the situation, deep down I’ll be thinking of having you in my body. Or me being in yours! When this is all over, I’m going to drive us deep into the woods, strip off your trousers and bury myself in your bum!"

"You’re playing with fire, Roddy Sayer! Remember, you’re driving! I’ve got nothing better to do than open your trousers, take your cock out and show you what happens to bad boys who tease!"

He shifted a bit in his seat, spreading his legs wide and rocking up his hips. "Who’s teasing, sweetheart?"

"Jesus, Roddy! I’ll never be able to look at Dinah’s car the same way again!" But my fingers were already reaching for him.

****

Dawn was just breaking as Roddy nosed the MG into the clearing that sheltered the gypsy vista. The women were tending their campfires, and eyed us warily as we climbed out of the little sports car, exhaustion starting to catch up with us.

The headman approached us, his face carefully bland. His eyes widened as he recognized me. "Mr. Thomas! It has been many years, sir."

"Sascha? It’s good to see you again!" The last time I had seen him we had both been young men. It was just before I left for the military, and I stopped by the vista to pay a final visit with my friends there. We shook hands. "You are the headman, now?"

He nodded in agreement. "The position would have gone to Bela, but sadly, he is dead."

The shortness of that statement kept me from inquiring further, but I was curious. I remembered Bela, who was a few years older than I. A gypsy’s life might be precarious, but surely he shouldn’t have died yet? "Is the wise woman here? I would speak with Maleva, if she is not otherwise engaged."

Sascha looked uneasy. He kept glancing around the camp. "I…think perhaps she has gone to see…Ah!" the relief in his voice was evident. "Here she is!"

The old woman seemed even more bent and worn than I remembered. "Grandmother! Are you well?"

Her rheumy eyes lit up as I embraced her. "Young sir! You have returned! How very good to see you again!" She stepped back and examined Roddy carefully, nodding in satisfaction. "Yes. You are the one who was destined for the young sir, the one protected by the Ancient One!" Her expression grew sad. "Come to my caravan. Sascha, have one of the women bring some tea, if you would? I will read the leaves."

We followed Maleva to her wagon, and I waited until we were seated around a small, fold down table. "Grandmother, we were attacked earlier this evening."

She closed her eyes as if in pain.

One of the women climbed into the caravan and handed us tin mugs filled with hot, bitter tea. Maleva drank hers down, and then began to speak of what had happened. "My son wanted the little brother more than anything, and Bela made the m’lor’ his, without my knowledge. The foolish child who aided him has paid with her life for her meddling.

"Oh, Grandmother!" I mourned. "This is dreadful news. Then it was Lawrence who attacked us?"

"Us? It was not just this young man who was attacked?"

"No. When I protected Roddy, the wolf turned on me."

"Ah. I see. That is why he bears the mark across his face." She reached toward the collar of my shirt. Her fingers dipped past the material and withdrew the silver chain I was never without. "This is what saved you, young sir. Always keep it around you neck."

"Is there anyway to end the curse, Grandmother?"

Maleva looked irresolute. "Perhaps, but not while the little brother remains in England. If I could get him to the old country…" She shrugged. "When I first read your palms, there was no question. Now? There is another player on the board, and we will have to see."

By this time Roddy had drained his mug, and she took it from him, peering into the dregs that formed patterns the bottom. Her face softened. "The protection of the Ancient One is strong, sir. He has very high regard for you." She observed his placid acceptance of her words. "You are not curious as to what the future holds, sir?"

"I don’t care what the future holds, as long as Tommy isn’t taken from me." His eyes grew dreamy. "And My Lord promised me this." He shook his head and looked startled by his own words, and smiled sheepishly. "Beg pardon. Don’t know where that came from."

She squeezed his hand and reached for my mug. This time a broad smile lit her face. "You have wanted children, young sir?"

"Yes. I’ve been discussing this with Roddy, and I imagine once this is settled, we will see about bringing some little boys into our household. Until then…"

The wise woman stroked my cheek. "I do not see a boy in the near future, young sir."

My shoulders slumped. "None?"

"What would you say to a little girl?"

"We’re to have a daughter? Maleva, are you sure?" My heart was pounding so heavily in my chest I thought it would burst through.

The gypsy’s eyes grew sad once more. "Her mother will not long survive her birth. But the lady will go from this plane much more easily, knowing she leaves her child in your capable hands."

She rose and ushered us from her caravan. I helped her down, and she slid her arms around me. "Go with God, young sir, and think kindly of the Rom. We will not be seen here for a very long time." She turned to Roddy. "And you, sir." He stepped into her embrace, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You will do very well, I think."

We hurried to the MG, looking back to wave farewell, but she was already turning away, calling her people to her.

"I think it might be best to talk to Lawrence," I said. I was staring at Roddy. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

"Very well." That was all he said, but I knew that if the friend of my childhood made a single wrong move, my lover would take great pleasure in hurting him.

Somehow I knew that Lawrence had been hurt a great deal indeed.

We drove to Talbot Abbey, and hurried up the walk in time to hear Sir John shouting, "Andrews, telephone Dr. Cliffe at once! I want him here immediately!" He was cradling his son in his arms. "Lawrence, my poor boy! What’s happened to you?"

"Yes, that’s what I’d like to know!" I said tightly.

Part 20

Thomas and his ‘friend’ helped me to my room, and I sank into a chair. I could feel their eyes on me.

I stared mutely down at my fingers, flexing them. I could almost see them covered with fur, racing through the by-roads toward my destiny.

I shuddered, and buried my face in my hands.

"Would someone mind explaining to me what, exactly, is going on?" Father demanded.

"Do you want to tell him, Lawrence, or shall I?" Thomas’s voice was so cold. It was like a knife sinking deep into my heart. I looked up at him, hoping to see…what? Friendship? Acceptance? Forgiveness? All that was there was anger. "I saw where the wolf’s eyes were looking, Lawrence! You would have killed Roddy!"

"Eh, what? Wolf? What is this all about?" Father was starting to sound petulant.

"How did you know, Thomas? No one else has any idea."

"We drove to the gypsy camp. Maleva confirmed my suspicions."

"I’m sorry," I murmured despondently, and pushed Bela’s shirt off my shoulder. The scar seemed to throb and burn in time to the marks across my face. Maleva had spread a soothing unguent along its length, but the pain was starting to leach through again. I glanced at my shoulder, unsurprised to see it an angry red, and touched it with tentative fingers.

Again I was beneath my lover as he marked me as his and passed along the legacy that the pentagram in my palm had predicted.

"Lawrence! Lawrence!"

I shook my head groggily. "I’m sorry," I repeated. "I was bitten by a werewolf, on a night of the full moon. Now I’m destined to become a shapeshifter on those nights."

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then, "What nonsense! What rubbish! What utter balderdash! I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Lawrence, but I intend for Dr. Cliffe to see that you’re cured, immediately, if not sooner!" My father stormed out of my room. "Andrews? Andrews! Where the devil is Dr. Cliffe? Do I need to go fetch the blighter myself? Why hasn’t he shown up yet?"

"Dr. Cliffe won’t be able to help you, will he, Lawrence?"

"No. I love you, Thomas." I leaned forward and seized his wrist between my fingers. "You must listen to me!" Before I could continue, Sayer, who had been standing behind my friend, sprang forward and knocked my hand off his lover.

"Touch him just one more time, Talbot, and you’ll be praying for death before I’m done with you!" he snarled.

"You have Thomas," I snapped. "He’s yours! Can’t you at least afford me some pity?"

"No." His blue eyes, so dark they seemed almost black, were flat and hard. "You sent that despicable phallus to him. Did you think I would have allowed him to use something like that? You claim to love him, yet you would have passed your curse on to him!"

"What do you know of curses, Sayer?" I demanded bitterly. He would have launched himself at me again, but Thomas spoke.

"Roddy." His voice was quiet. I wasn’t surprised to see the younger man subside, albeit resentfully. Thomas came to my side and rested his hand on my other shoulder. "Roddy knows more than anyone should have to know about curses, Lawrence. Now say your piece."

I ran my hands through my hair, leaving it wildly disheveled. "There must be a cure for this. I can’t go on living here," //not without love// "knowing I’m a danger to the people I’ve known all my life. Maleva said something about me being able to survive on cattle. Bela did. Until I can learn how to control the wolf, I’ll have myself locked in my rooms every night."

Sayer took a step toward me, his fists clenched. "Do you think that would stop you? The window of Thomas’ room at Bertie’s townhouse was completely torn from its sash. The beast is so strong, he’ll have no trouble knocking down this door!" He took another step closer. "Know this, Talbot! I’m armed!"

I bared my teeth at him. "Others have shot at me, Sayer." I thought of the farmers who fired at me to save their livestock, only to fall under my teeth and claws. "I am the one who survived!"

To my shock he relaxed and crossed his arms casually across his chest. A feral grin curled his lips. "Oh, yes, do come after me, Talbot! My bullets are silver!"

I recoiled from him.

"*Enough*!" Thomas thundered, suddenly very much the captain who had led his men against the Huns. "This…this pissing contest is getting us nowhere!" He waited until both of us averted our eyes, then continued. "In good conscience, Lawrence, I cannot allow you to roam this countryside. These are my people, too!"

I had myself under control once more. "I…I understand. I don’t want to die, Thomas."

"What’s all this nonsense about dying?" Dr. Cliffe strode into the room, seemingly unconcerned by the tension that was rife in it. "Oh, I say, nasty burn, Lawrence. What were you up to?" He was about to shoo Thomas and his lover from the room, but I risked taking hold of my friend’s hand once more.

Sayer made no move toward me, but a glance told me that he was simply waiting. I swallowed. "Thomas," I whispered. "The priests’ cells. I rebuilt the Abbey exactly as it was."

That was all I had time to tell him before Dr. Cliffe sent them away.

****

Tommy’s POV

"Roddy."

He stopped below me on the stair, staunchly avoiding my gaze. "Why didn’t you let me deal with him, Tommy? Don’t you understand yet what he was going to do to you? You’re in danger!"

This was not the best place to have this discussion, but I knew my lover wasn’t going to let it wait. "You’re the one who’s in danger!" I protested. "The wolf wants me, but he wants me alive, as his mate. He wants you dead!"

"Yes? Well, that’s the only way he’s going to get you, over my dead body!" He brushed his death aside as inconsequential and mounted the steps until we stood toe to toe. "Perhaps he considered you his mate once, Tommy, but no longer. Don’t you see?" His fingers dug into my arm, and I knew there would be bruises later. "You chose me over him!"

I was pale and shaken. "Roddy, I can’t believe he would try to hurt me!" I dropped my voice. "He was my first lover!"

He had no answer to that. Keeping his hold on my arm, he urged me down the stairs. "Let’s get out of here, Tommy! This place gives me the screaming abdabs!"

I nodded politely to Sir John as we passed him.

"Thomas."

"Yes, Sir John?"

"What’s wrong with my boy?" He was wringing his hands. How could I tell him his son was a werewolf?

I rested my hand on his shoulder, letting the warmth of my palm sink in, then turned and walked out of Talbot Abbey.

****

"Mother, I really am not in the mood to dine with Sir John Talbot." As a matter of fact, all I wanted was as much space as I could contrive between my lover and the home of the man who had once been my friend. "A quiet meal in our rooms will suffice."

Roddy chose that moment to stroll into the drawing room. He had bathed and changed, and looked good enough to swallow whole. I moistened my lips.

Mother gave him a smile, and he returned it.

"Would you mind accompanying me to Talbot Abbey for dinner this evening, Roddy? My son does not wish to oblige me."

"Roddy, I told Mother it’s really too soon for us to be gadding about! We need at least a night to recuperate from the events of the past twenty-four hours!" I willed him to look at me, trying to pass along the message that I preferred not to venture out on a night when there would be a full moon.

He ignored my words and crossed the room to bow over Mother’s extended hand and brush his lips across her knuckles. My lover glanced at me from the corner of his eyes and smiled. "I’d like nothing better, Lady G," he purred. "I felt I hardly got to know Mr. Talbot at all."

His tone of voice disturbed Mother, and I could see she was suddenly regretting forcing the invitation on us. I was tempted to say, ‘I told you so.’

"Very well, Mother." There was no way I would let Roddy go there without me. "What time will we need to be ready?"

"Country hours, Thomas."

I rose to go to my room; I would have just enough time to change into suitable attire. "I’ll have to insist we leave immediately after dinner. We won’t be able to remain for the tea tray, I’m afraid. Don’t gainsay me on this, Mother." This was the first time I had ever used my army voice in her presence, and to my surprise, she capitulated. I’d have to keep that in mind.

And I wondered if it would work on my lover.

****

When we arrived at Talbot Abbey, it was to find that Lawrence would not be joining us for dinner. "The boy isn’t feeling too well," his father informed us.

I wonder if Lawrence really was ill, or if he had already locked himself in the priest’s cell in the cellar. The original door was six inches thick, with a small, grated window. Had he replaced it with one as sturdy? I could only hope so. If it wasn’t strong enough to contain the wolf, I feared for the events of the night.

Both Roddy and I were armed with weapons that were charged with silver bullets.

Two other guests would be dining with us and were already there: Gwen Conliffe, who, to my surprise, flashed the Talbot betrothal ring upon her finger, and Colonel Paul Montford, the constable.

I remembered Montford from my boyhood. He was always trying to join Lawrence and myself in our games, but we never welcomed him: the two of us were all we needed.

The numbers were not even, but I rather had the feeling that this was the least of Sir John’s concerns. He apologized distractedly for having dinner in the small dining room, then led Mother in. I offered Miss Conliffe my arm, and Roddy was right behind us, followed by the constable.

Dinner was a strange affair, and the conversation was desultory at best.

Colonel Montford sat across from my friend’s fiancée and seemed charmed by her. She listened with parted lips to the tales of his adventures during the Great War. Good God, who would want to talk about those horrible years?

Next to the Colonel was seated my lover. Roddy was eating slowly, languidly, temptingly. He would slice his meat with neat strokes, spear it, and—slowly-- raise his fork to his mouth, never taking his eyes from mine. His lips would part and he’d slide the morsel—slowly-- past them, then remove the naked tines and chew-- slowly. Then he would reach for his wine glass, take a sip, and his tongue would just---barely---peek out and –slowly--touch his lips.

It was fortunate I did not poke myself in my sole remaining eye with the fork, because I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. The tablecloth discreetly covered my lap, but I wondered frantically if my arousal would subside in time for our departure.

I started as I felt his toe slipping under my trouser leg. He sat there looking so innocent while he tormented the life out of me. I glared at him. His fork paused in mid-air. "Roddy!" I growled, and jerked my leg back. He cocked a questioning eyebrow at me.

Before I could hurl my bread at him, Miss Conliffe squeaked and blushed bright red. "I’m, er…I’m so sorry, Mr. Fortescue-Smythe. My…er…my shoe slipped off and I was simply trying to get it back on!" Under her lashes she was watching the Colonel.

My lover raised his napkin to his lips to conceal his grin, but his blue eyes laughed at me.

I was about to accept her apology when someone tall, gangly, and sheet-white stumbled into the room. His jacket hung in tatters from his shoulders, and his shirt was torn. Sir John frowned, but before he could castigate the unfortunate man, Montford leaped to his feet.

"Twiddle! What’s the meaning of this?"

"I was a-watching him, sir, I swear it! I sat outside that blasted little room, beg pardon, M’lady!" His eyes were frantic and couldn’t seem to settle anywhere. "These sounds, like growls they was, started coming out of there! The next thing I knows…" He swallowed and his expression became haunted. "This whacking great wolf knocked the bleeding door down, beg pardon, I’m sure, M’lady, and jumped on me! I thought I was a goner for certain, Colonel, but something must have startled it and it run off!"

"A wolf? Twiddle, you’re out of what little mind you have!"

"No, sir! I swear. If it wasn’t a wolf, it was the hugest dog I ever did see!" Twiddle faced Sir John. "I’m that sorry, sir. That beast was in the little room with your son! There’s no way Mr. Lawrence could have survived!"

Lawrence’s father moaned and collapsed onto his seat. Mother dipped her napkin into her water glass and ran to his side, patting his lips and cheeks with the dampened cloth. "It will be all right, Sir John, I promise you! Thomas?"

Roddy and I both had our pistols out. I had never seen my lover’s face look so hard. "We’ll handle it, Mother."

"See here, now!" Montford exclaimed. "I’m in charge here!"

"Splendid, Colonel. You can guard the ladies then!" We were almost out of the dining room.

"Just one moment, Fortescue-Smythe! Twiddle, guard the ladies and Sir John!" The constable patted his pockets, but came up without a weapon. He snatched up the silver-headed walking stick, which had been propped by the door, and followed hard on our heels.

Part 21

I braced my hands against a glass wall of the observatory and stared out at the night. The midnight sky was spangled with stars, but I didn’t really see it. In a matter of minutes the moon would rise, and I was cutting it rather fine. I hadn’t promised Thomas I would lock myself in one of the priests’ cells, but I intended to. Father insisted on a dinner party, and if I wasn’t safely behind a solid door there very well might be hell to pay.

"Sir? Will you come away now?" The young gypsy boy, who also bore a pentagram in his palm, had been sent by Maleva, his grandmother, to make sure I didn’t do anything foolish. She had spoken with Thomas and his lover, and knew that seeing them together might well drive me to the brink.

"Yes, Dimitri. You’ll see to everything?" After Dr. Cliffe had left, declaring all he could see wrong with me, aside from the burn across my face, was a case of nerves, I’d sat down and written a number of letters. If I didn’t survive this night, the boy would see they were delivered to my father and Thomas, who would have to deal with the aftermath.

"Of course, sir." He stepped aside as I passed him, but touched my arm. "Pardon, sir, but…must you do this?"

I tried to offer a smile, but it was a poor effort at best. "The wise woman has said there may be a chance for me! I can only hope she is right. This is the last night of the full moon for this month. If I can make it through to the sunrise…"

We both knew that the wolf would emerge and take control. I had to prevent him from harming any more people. I turned away and hurried down the winding staircase, and then down the stairs that led to the cellar.

My clothes were starting to feel constrictive, and I was tearing at them as I rushed into the cell. There were manacles set deep into the wall, and Dimitri snapped them shut around my wrists. He spared one last glance at me, then closed the door. The key turned smoothly in the lock, and I shuddered at its seeming finality. I looked out the grated window in the door, watching as the young gypsy hung the key out of reach.

"I go to check on the lady, sir. If all is well, I will be back at dawn." He vanished up the stairs, and sweating and pacing the length of the chain, I was alone. But not for long.

"These are the priests’ cells, Colonel Montford," Andrews the elder was saying as he descended into the dark cellar. "I’ll see to a chair for Mr. Twiddle, although I’m sure I don’t know why you would want him down here."

"Sir John has given me permission, and that’s all you need know, my good man! This is strictly constabulary business! Twiddle, keep your eyes peeled. I have a feeling about this place, and it is not good, I assure you! Now, I’m going up to dine with Sir John and that lovely gel who is wasting herself on Talbot!" His footsteps faded.

Andrews, the elder, grumbled as he dragged a chair across the floor. "If there is anything else, Mr. Twiddle?"

"Nothing, thank you, Mr. Andrews. I’m on dooty, I am!"

The butler sniffed and began to climb the stair. "Don’t know what he hopes to find down here, I’m sure I don’t!" he muttered crossly under his breath. "Keeping watch, indeed!"

I had no difficulty hearing him; the wolf was beginning to surface. My skin felt hypersensitive, and I just managed to pull my trousers off. I ripped at my shirt, tearing the buttons, which pattered against the wall and floor of the small cell. The material dangled from my wrists.

"Here! What’s that?" Twiddle peered in through the window. His eyes widened as he observed my naked body. "Oh, I say!"

My hearing was becoming so acute that I could hear the blood rushing through his veins. My nose twitched, the scent of his sexual excitement giving rise to mine. I voiced a low growl.

"All chained up, are we, Mr. Talbot? Rather helpless, I should think!" He moved away from the door, and I heard the sound of metal against the stone wall of the cellar as he retrieved the key to my cell. "You all think I haven’t got the sense God gave a gnat, but I ain't the one what’s all chained up!"

The sound of the key in the lock was almost painful to my ears. I held my breath, waiting to see what he would do. My body sank to the floor as the change started to take place. The moon must be on the rise. My hunger for my lover became ravenous. I tested the hold of the chains on my wrists and felt the give.

"I’ve seen you, strutting through town, shaking that fine arse of yours. Colonel Montford says you’re a poof, and you’ve probably lost your mind, but I don’t care! I’m going to have me a piece of your arse! And if you ever tell anyone, I’ll just say you’re mad! Everyone knows madmen ain’t to be believed!"

I clenched my fists and gave a powerful jerk. The chains fell from… brawny forelegs that were covered in dense black fur. At that moment, the door opened, and the man stood there, stupidly placing himself between me and my desire. With a throaty roar, I bounded forward, knocking him down. I was hungry, and saliva dripped from my jaws. My claws shredded his clothing, and I dipped my head to rip out his soft belly.

"No!"

I raised my eyes, although my head was still low, and my jaws parted to growl a warning, revealing sharp, white teeth. Beneath me the man whimpered and tried to scurry out from under me. I placed a large paw on his chest, casually keeping him in place.

"Please, brother, you must not do this! They will hunt you down!" It was the gypsy boy. Hesitantly he approached me, his hand extended palm upwards. I stretched my muzzle toward him and sniffed. There was something familiar and …comforting about his scent. He touched my head. "Come! We must leave this place now!"

I looked down at the man one last time and licked my lips. I was torn. I knew the little brother was right, but I was very hungry.

The boy touched my head. "Please, brother. The babe is coming, and Jennie Williams is in need of aid!"

My cub was about to be born? I seized the boy’s wrist in my jaws and dragged him toward the stairs. When he saw where I was heading he ran along beside me.

Behind us, the man staggered to his feet and began to cry out weakly for help. I could have gone back and snapped his neck like a twig to silence him, but I had more important things to do.

The boy and I slipped out of the house without being seen. He could not keep up with me. "Go, my brother," he panted urgently. "I will follow!"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when I was gone.

****

A gypsy caravan was parked behind Jennie’s shop. I scratched at the door and whined, but there was no one to open it for me. I sat back on my haunches, raised my muzzle to the moon and howled, a mournful ululation.

The window was thrown open, and Maleva’s head and upper torso appeared. "Hush, my son! I dare not leave the lady. You must make your own way in!"

I remembered how Bela had bounded in through her bedroom window the night we three had made love, and my cub had been conceived. Where he had gone, so would I! There was a shed attached to the back of the house. I got a running start and launched myself at it, my claws scrabbling to keep my balance. Then I clambered over a trellis to the shale tiles on the roof.

A final long leap, and I was through the window.

Jennie cried out when she saw me, and tried to scramble away, but moaned in pain as another contraction hit her. I could see the silver tracks of tears as they slid down her cheeks. Her lips were pale except where they had been bitten through to contain her screams, and I was ashamed.

It was my fault that she was in such dire straits. It was my fault Thomas no longer felt even friendship for me. It was my fault…

It seemed I brought pain to everyone I cared about. I loathed what I had become.

Maleva didn’t have to tell me to keep out of the way. I lay down on the hooked rug beneath the window and watched with distressed eyes as the wise woman whispered and cajoled and demanded that Jennie follow her instructions.

Too much blood! There was too much blood!

And then there were raised voices from the shop below. "No, you must not go up there!" It was the gypsy boy. "You must not…" A sharp cry interrupted his plea, and a thud as he was knocked aside.

With a growl I was on my feet and through the door. At the top of the stair was the constable. At the bottom was Thomas, holding the boy. "Damn you, Montford! There was no need…" His eye widened as he saw me.

A fleeting thought crossed my mind. He would make a very good father.

I hurled myself at the man who was staring at me with horror writ large upon his face. He raised the silver-headed walking stick, the stick that had brought about my lover’s death, the stick that would no doubt be the death of me.

I no longer cared. The wolf’s head struck my skull, and pain like wild fire flashed through me. My impetus sent me crashing into Montford’s chest, knocking him down the stairs. I tumbled after him. By the time I reached the bottom I knew I was seriously damaged. I yelped and lost consciousness.

****

Tommy’s POV

"Tommy! Tommy!"

My lover burst through the kitchen. I looked up from where I was crouched at the bottom of the stairs, the boy in my arms, trying to ascertain how badly Montford had injured him. Roddy’s hands were all over me, making sure I wasn’t hurt. Once he was sure I was safe, he turned toward the Colonel.

Montford’s neck was bent at an unnatural angle. Lying across him, his chest barely moving, was the midnight black wolf. Roddy’s pistol was out and cocked.

"No, love! Please!" I begged him. "The wolf’s back is broken! He won’t be able to do anything!"

His mouth grim, Roddy eased the hammer down, but kept an alert eye on the beast. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding since I’d seen Lawrence’s eyes looking into mine from the face of the wolf.

Roddy knelt beside me, and I leaned into his embrace.

Above stairs there was the sudden wail of a newborn, and Maleva called out to us.

"I’m all right, sir," the gypsy boy whispered. "Go to her. I must fetch Sascha!" He staggered to his feet, then ran out the door, pausing only to give Montford’s body a kick. "Gadje!" he spat.

We hurried up to Jennie’s room. The smell of blood and imminent death was strong. "Oh my God, Grandmother! Has Lawrence killed her?"

"No." She gestured for us to join her at the head of the bed. Jennie Williams was holding a tiny bundle to her breast, the expression on her face reflecting joy and resignation. "Lady, the young sir is here, with the one who stands with him."

"Thomas. I remember you." Jennie gazed up at me, exhaustion clouding her eyes. "He is the one, Grandmother?" At the wise woman’s nod, she tried to smile, but it was a wobbly one at best. She held the baby out to me. "I give my child… to you, Thomas Smythe. Tell her… of me, please. Don’t let her… think I left her because I… didn’t…love her." Her breath became panting gasps. "Love her… as… I …would have."

I took the baby from Jennie. Her fingers lingered for a moment on her child, and then slid lifeless to the bed.

Maleva kneaded her back before bending over Jennie once more, stroking her pale hair back from her face, wiping away the tears. "Something inside her was torn, young sir. I could not save her. All along, I knew I could not save her. On this turn of the wheel of life, the lady was not meant to survive. I saw this in her palm when she was a girl. She ran from Upper Uncton to escape her destiny, and yet she returned here to fulfill it." She sighed. "Come. There is much to do before this night is over!"

****

The boy, Dimitri, brought Sascha to Jennie Williams’ house. He knelt beside the limp body of the wolf, briefly stroking the soft fur, then backed away so the big gypsy could carefully lift the wolf. The beast’s back had healed under the magic of the moonlight, and Sascha carried him out to the wise woman’s caravan.

Maleva fretted that he had not regained consciousness. "That blow to his head, that worries me," she confided.

"Where will you take Lawrence, Grandmother?"

"He cannot remain in Kent, young sir. Having been struck by silver while he was in the form of the wolf, the question remains: if…*when* he regains his senses, who will emerge, the animal or the man?" She scrubbed her face wearily. "We will take him with us to the old country and oversee his recovery. Once I can determine how things are with him, then there will be time enough to consider if he should return home. Meanwhile, we must decide what is to be done with this one."

‘This one’ was Colonel Montford, the constable. Before I left Jennie Williams’ house, I placed a trunk call to London and spoke with my former superior, who was more than willing to be persuaded to come to our assistance.

"It’s been taken care of, Grandmother. We’ll move his body into the forest, where it will be found sometime late tomorrow. He will have given his life in the attempt to capture the madman who has been stalking the countryside. I’m sure there’s a spare body lying around that we can use as the villain."

Roddy stared at me open-mouthed. "If this is what you were up to while we were in Africa, I’m bloody well glad I had no idea!"

I raised my eyebrows and returned his gaze innocently.

"There is this little one to be looked after, also." A gypsy woman who had recently given birth put the baby to her breast. My lover watched in fascination as rosebud lips latched on to a dusky nipple and suckled strongly.

"She will need a name," the woman murmured as she nuzzled the fair, downy hair. Our child finished nursing and gave a tiny burp. She handed the baby to me and did up her blouse.

"Shani," Roddy answered immediately.

"Amala," I said at the same time.

"Shani Amala," the wise woman joined the names, pleased. "You have named her well, my sirs."

Roddy stood beside me. I could feel the comforting warmth of his body along mine as I cradled the baby in my arms. I rocked her gently, and her eyelids drooped.

With a tentative gesture, Roddy touched her palm, and her tiny fingers latched onto his. "Tommy?" My lover licked his lips in nervous reaction and extended his arms. Mutely I handed him the little girl, who opened her eyes and looked at him with the vague blue gaze of newborns. "She’s very like you in coloring, sweetheart." She smiled at him, and his breath hitched in his throat. Roddy tucked the blanket more firmly around her and began to sing softly.

"Poor, wand’ring one, if such poor love as mine,

"Can help thee find true peace of mind,

"Why, take it, it is thine!"

His voice cracked, and his arms tightened around her. "We’re keeping her, Maleva." He spoke to the gypsy, but he was looking at me. I closed my eye and nodded, taking them both in my arms.

"Can you read her future in her palm, Grandmother?" I asked when I finally had my emotions under control once more. "Will her father’s legacy be passed on to her?"

"No, young sir. She carries the bloodline, but whether curse or blessing, it will pass her by. Her child, though…" She grimaced. "Oh, that boy will have a very interesting future!"

Roddy groaned. "You’re already making us grandfathers, and our daughter hasn’t even seen her first sunrise!"

Maleva patted his cheek. "Take her home, sir. And may God bless and keep thee, young sir." She kissed me.

By dawn, the gypsies were gone.

Part 22

The surface of the screeing pool was ruffled and turbulent, but the closer I approached, the calmer it became.

I braced my hands against the broad lip and leaned forward. The white froth gradually subsided, and I stared into the pale blue depths.

As clearly as if I was in the midst of the scenes that were taking place in the world below, I could see and hear everything that was going on there.

~~~~

The man who was dressed in a plain beige overcoat pounded on the front door of Fortescue Manor. He was shown in and made to wait in the hall while the butler went to fetch Lady Eugenia.

The lady, who was still quite lovely despite her advancing years, descended the stairs from the nursery, examining the card the servant had handed to her.

"Doctor Livingston, I presume? How may I help you?"

The tall man looked disgruntled. "I wished to speak with Thomas Fortescue-Smythe."

"I’m sorry, my son is away on business just now. He’s delivering a stallion to an old friend in another part of Kent, and I’m not quite sure when he’s scheduled to return. Is there a message I might pass on for you?"

His mouth tightened in anger. "Not unless you’re willing to punch your son on the nose for me."

To his surprise, she burst into laughter. "Oh, I do beg your pardon. Thomas does have that effect on people, although not as frequently since Roddy Sayer came into his life."

"Sayer?" Hyde Livingston’s eyes narrowed at the mention of that name. "He’s the one who took Thomas away from Law? Is he here? I wouldn’t mind punching him instead!"

Lady Eugenia cocked her head to one side and observed the Canadian thoughtfully. "Perhaps we had better discuss this over a cup of tea, my dear doctor. If you’ll join me?"

Hyde had no intention of spilling his life’s secrets to the petite lady who handed him his tea and offered him a plate of sandwiches, but somehow he found himself pouring out the story of how he had met Lawrence Talbot, how they had become close… friends, and of their last fateful parting.

"He promised we’d stay in touch," he said softly. "He promised, and for a couple of years he did. But then his letters got fewer and fewer. Finally I offered to sell my practice and join him here. That was when he stopped writing altogether. So I tried one last time. I told him I was tired of waiting, that I wasn’t going to wait any longer."

"Thinking that would jolt him, and he’d realize he was in danger of losing you?"

"Yes. It was a foolish attempt. For all I know, he never even got that letter. I never heard from him."

"Did he know how much you loved him?"

He looked up from the dregs in his teacup, and wearily shook his head. "We never spoke of love. He’d told me right at the start that he loved someone else. ‘You can have my body, Hyde,’ he said, ‘but my heart belongs to another!’"

"Oh, my word! If that doesn’t sound just like Lawrence! He did tend to dramatize things, even as a boy."

"Did he? How did Sayer feel about having a rival for your son’s affections?"

Lady Eugenia leaned forward and gently squeezed his knee. "There was no rival, Doctor Livingston. Whatever my son might have felt for Lawrence Talbot was long in the past. He’s committed himself to Roddy Sayer, and will have no other."

A female servant entered the room, carrying a small bundle that was complaining vociferously. "Beg pardon, M’lady, but her highness has awakened and is not pleased."

"Let me have her, Tess." Lady Eugenia took the infant and rocked her gently. "My granddaughter, Doctor Livingston," she said proudly.

Livingston had no desire to see the baby; in spite of his calling, he was uncomfortable around children. But the lady tipped the quieting babe toward him, and he admired her reluctantly. For such a young infant her head was covered with a surprisingly thick cap of white blonde curls. She raised her eyelids and stared into his face, and he was stunned.

Lady Eugenia noticed, of course. "It’s the expression, I know. Her coloring is all her mother, but that expression is her biological father."

"She’s Lawrence’s daughter!"

"Yes. Lawrence left a letter stating that if anything should happen to her mother or to him, if for any reason he should not be available to see to her upbringing, Shani was to be raised by Thomas."

"Then something has happened to Lawrence? I stopped at Talbot Abbey, but was told Sir John was incapacitated and unable to see anyone."

Distress filled her blue eyes. "The events of the other night brought on a seizure, and it is not likely he will survive much longer. And all Thomas would say is that the gypsies are taking Lawrence to the Continent. He would tell me nothing more. It seems our constable, Colonel Montford, was killed the night this precious little lady was born, and his assistant, a rather silly man by the name of Twiddle, has taken Lawrence in intense dislike. Twiddle is insisting that Lawrence was responsible for Montford’s death, as well as a number of other murders that were done in the neighborhood."

"Law is gone?" Hyde sat down heavily, his elbows propped on his knees, his face buried in his hands. "I really have done a very stupid thing! I put my practice up for sale. That’s what took me so long to get here. I had patients I couldn’t just up and leave. When I finally found a decent doctor to take my place, I sailed for England."

"Only to find you’re too late?"

He looked up, desolation written across his face.

"You know, Doctor Livingston, gypsy caravans are notoriously slow-moving." Lady Eugenia contemplated her granddaughter’s perfect little fingers. "My daughter-in-law’s MG is in the coach house." He wondered at the seeming non sequitur. "I’m sure my chauffeur will have no trouble in catching you up with them."

Hyde sprang to his feet. "M’lady, I can’t thank you enough…"

She smiled. "I’m in an extremely expansive mood, Doctor. I want everyone to be as happy as I am right now."

~~~~

I searched another part of the screeing pool, and found where the gypsies were camped.

~~~~

The shapeshifter had finally returned to his human form, and had recovered from his injury, to a degree. His dark eyes watched cautiously as the boy tended him.

Dimitri held a spoon to his mouth and waited patiently until the man opened his lips and accepted the broth. The boy sighed in relief. "You will see, brother. You will grow strong and well, and everything will be as it should be."

"You are my brother?" The man did not remember having any siblings. But then, he did not remember much of anything.

The boy waited until he took another spoon of nourishment. "We are of the same line. See?" He took the shapeshifter’s hand and turned it palm up, holding his own beside it. Quite clearly they could both see the pentagrams that covered each palm. "Bela was also, but he abused his power, and was destroyed by the lady."

"Bela?"

The boy shot him a worried glance. "Grandmother told me I was not to overtire you. She will tell you all you need to know when the time is ripe."

‘When the time is ripe’. Why did that have a familiar sound? He asked the boy.

"You must ask Maleva, brother. I cannot tell."

"Can you, perhaps, tell me your name?"

The boy looked heartbroken. "You do not remember that I am Dimitri?"

"Dimitri, I do not remember who I am!"

The boy turned pale. This was the first he had heard of this. "I must fetch the wise woman!"

The shapeshifter watched with interested eyes as the boy ran out of the caravan. He had left the bowl of soup behind, and the man was still hungry. Carefully he began to feed himself.

He didn’t know what his past was, but he knew what the future held for him, and for Dimitri. The boy was young now, but in a handful of years he would reach the maturity necessary to be turned.

Lawrence, his name burst into his brain in a flash of illumination. His name was Lawrence. He was suddenly also aware that somewhere in his past he had loved someone deeply. The identity of that person was shrouded by the mists of amnesia, and for a brief span of time, he mourned the loss of that memory.

"Law!"

His head jerked up. In the doorway of the caravan was a tall, good-looking man. He offered him a tentative smile. "You are addressing me? Do I know you, sir?"

"I’m Hyde! Hyde Livingston! Good God, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me, Law! It hasn’t been that long! We lived together for years in Canada!"

He had lived in Canada?

Hyde’s face crumpled, and he turned to the wise woman who was just behind him. "He doesn’t know me!"

Maleva patted his shoulder as she brushed past him into the caravan. "He knows no one, good sir. Perhaps, if you stay with him for a little while, things will start to come back to him."

"Where are you taking him?" Hyde asked.

"We return to the old country. It is early days yet, but a monster will soon rise up, and many of my people will die. Many others will die as well."

"Wouldn’t it be safer to remain here in England?"

"Safer, yes, but that is not our destiny. We return to Walachia. In the shadow of the Carpathian Mountains we will dwell, biding our time. I have read it in the cards." She laughed softly at his expression. "No, you do not believe in that, do you, good sir?"

"It doesn’t matter whether I believe that or not. May I come with you?"

"Good sir, this is a hard life..."

"I’m a doctor, Grandmother," he interrupted, unaware of how he had just addressed the wise woman. "I can help save some of the lives that might otherwise be lost. I have nothing to keep me here, nothing waiting for me back in Canada. I’ve given up everything to be with Law. Please don’t send me away."

She studied him carefully, then took his hand. Maleva ran her fingertips over the sensitive flesh of his palm, and he shivered at the touch. Finally she nodded. "Very well, good sir. You will come with us. We will see that you have a caravan of your own, but for now you will use this one. Law, as you call him, will be here with you."

The shapeshifter was pleased. He liked the looks of this man, could tell that for a gadje he was a good person. An image of the two of them writhing on cool sheets that quickly heated came to him, and he couldn’t tell if it was a memory sifting up from the deep layers of his unconscious, or if it was something that would happen in the future.

Hyde took Maleva’s hand and kissed the rough skin across her knuckles. "Thank you, Grandmother."

~~~~

I watched with interest. The boy Dimitri would take some convincing, but he would come to care a great deal for the man who had been, and would be again, the shapeshifter’s lover. I resisted the temptation to look ahead to the time of his turning. That would prove to be a deeply sensual experience for him.

As deeply sensual as my own possession by the jackal-headed god was.

I sensed the presence coming up behind me, and my smile broadened. I leaned further over the screeing pool.

Clawed hands raised my linen kilt and traced the curves of my buttocks. Slick, blunt fingers explored the crevice, searching for my puckered opening. I spread my legs, went up on my toes and raised my hips, moaning a little as I was penetrated.

"Are you pleased with the way things are evolving in the lower plain, Ankhsunamen?"

"Yes, My Lord," I sighed, as he worked another digit into me.

"Did I not promise you all would be well?"

"Yes, My Lord," I murmured again, and bowed my back as the blunt head of the god’s cock replaced his fingers. He slid all the way into me, and the soft thick fur that covered him from head to toe caressed my buttocks. For just a second his cock in my rectum was our only connection, and then he raised my torso, holding me to him, until I stood straight, and I felt him along the length of my back and framing my legs. His fingers squeezed and plucked my nipples, turning them into pinpoints of sharp sensation. I whimpered as his massive phallus rubbed up against that spot inside me, and my prick began to weep clear tears of excitement.

Anubis gently pushed me forward until I was leaning over the pool once again, and began a steady, relentless rhythm to plunder my depths. "Please, My Lord! Please!"

His long body lay forward over mine, pressing me further down. Jackal-jaws parted, and his long tongue swept out to lick the side of my neck. I moaned and shivered as each stroke of his tongue, each thrust of his cock, brought me closer and closer to fulfillment. A tapered claw caressed the skin under my chin, then tipped my face up toward him. His mouth closed over mine, and his tongue teased my lips into parting to allow him admittance.

The god’s tongue slid into my mouth, and I sucked on it frantically, as he surged into me one last time, flooding my bowels with his essence. The soft pads of his palm enclosed my cock, and he pleasured my flesh to completion.

I sagged in his embrace, but he held me close to him. "My own sweet prince," he murmured softly. I rubbed my cheek against the fur of his chest, the whisper of my breath ruffling it. My dark lord shuddered, and a final spurt of come filled me.

He softened and eventually slipped out of my passage. I uttered a soft whine of protest. The moist warmth of his tongue over my neck soothed me, and together we gazed into the screeing pool, this time to watch as my other self and his lover spread a large blanket over the grass at the base of an ancient oak tree.

~~~~

"It was nice of Lady Genie to keep Shani for us while we had this picnic." Roddy hobbled the horses they had taken out.

Tommy lifted down the saddlebags that had been packed with their lunch. "’Nice’ had nothing to do with it, love! I think she cares more about that baby than she does about me!"

"Oh? Do I detect a pout there?" Roddy set the horses to graze, then helped his lover lay out the blanket and settled himself down on it.

The single tourmaline eye grew hot, and his cheeks flushed. "What will you do if I am pouting?"

Roddy rolled over onto his back and stacked his hands under his head. He stared up at the sky through the lattice of leaves. "I’ve got quite a variety of choices, haven’t I, sweetheart? Let’s see now." He closed his eyes and smiled as the warmth of the sun caressed his face. "I could tell you pouting is unbecoming an officer in His Majesty’s army and make you stand in a corner. Or I could abscond with our trusty steeds and make you walk home."

His lover humphed. "That’s no punishment!"

"Ah. I hadn’t realized you were looking to be punished." Tommy groaned. "In that case, I could make you walk the floor with our daughter, the next time she has an attack of colic. Or I could spank your bare bum. You’d like something like that, wouldn’t you, Tommy? But…"

Tommy held his breath, already so unbearably hard by the thought of his lover stripping down his jodhpurs and warming his arse that he was afraid he might come if he moved injudiciously and his trousers rubbed over his throbbing cock. He licked his lips. "But…?" he queried softly.

"But it seems to me I remember the way you were looking at that black phallus. It excited you, Tommy. Were you remembering when you put the Pearls of Anubis in me, and how I reacted when you took them out, one pearl at a time?" Roddy’s eyes burned with passion. "My orgasm was so intense I passed out from it! I think you’ve wondered what it would feel like to have a cock in your arse while you were fucking me!" With a lithe movement, Roddy was up and on his knees, reaching into a bag his lover hadn’t noticed. "How would you like this in your arse, Tommy?" He withdrew a marvelously constructed dildo with a bulbous head and ridged shaft. This was nothing like that other, with its dark aura. He began to run his fingertips up and down its length.

Tommy was panting, soft gasps spilling from his lips, his eye fastened on the movement of his lover’s fingers.

"Yes. I think you’re going to enjoy this very much, Tommy! Off with the jodhpurs!"

While the other man scrambled out of his trousers, Roddy placed the phallus down on the blanket and skinned out of his own clothes. Once he was naked, he took a jar of ointment out of the bag and concentrated on coating the dildo with a continuous, sensuous motion.

"Roddy?" Tommy’s voice was strained.

"Help yourself, sweetheart." He pushed the jar toward his lover. "I took care of myself before I left the house." Roddy grinned at his stunned look.

"How…um…how are we going to do this?"

Roddy lay on his side and moved his upper leg, exposing his shadowy crevice. Tommy groaned and crawled to his lover on his hands and knees. He flowed over the body beneath him, licking a path from Roddy’s spine up to his jaw and finally settled on his mouth. His cock pressed insistently at the younger man’s hole, then slid in with one steady stroke.

Forcing himself to hold still, Tommy shivered and whispered, "All right, love, now what?" He was breathing heavily, and Roddy reached between their legs and worked the phallus into his lover, who cried out and thrust back to take it more fully into his body.

Roddy froze, terrified that he might have hurt the one he loved above all else.

Tommy drove deep into him. "Bloody hell, Roddy, use that thing! It’s driving me mad!"

"Oh, I like your way with words, Tommy Smythe!" He gasped as his lover wrapped his hand around his cock and began pumping strongly. Sweat rolled down from his temple. His eyes were closed, and a frown creased his brow as he concentrated on the feelings building inside him.

His hand thrusting the phallus into his lover brushed against Tommy’s balls, against his own balls, and Roddy moaned helplessly, drawing his knees closer to his body. He began chanting his lover’s name like a mantra. He was so well filled. Tingles began lazily in his toes, in his fingers, spiraling in to the center of his body.

Roddy was enjoying the lovemaking, rocking onto his lover’s hard flesh. From the sounds Tommy was making, he was enjoying the twin assaults also, the hot, tight grip of Roddy’s inner muscles around his cock, and the invasion by the phallus wielded by his lover in his own snug channel. And then abruptly their orgasms slammed into them, and they shuddered and cried out as they came.

~~~~

I found my back passage filled with the god’s cock once more, and I whimpered under the sudden taking.

"Your other self seems quite inventive, my prince."

"He loves, My Lord."

The jackal-headed god halted his voluptuous movements. "And you, Ankhsunamen? Do you love, also?"

"Of course, My Lord. Did you doubt it?"

The god rubbed his furred cheek against mine and resumed his thrusts. "I will never release you, Ankhsunamen. Do you understand that? You will be mine until the end of time."

"Yes! And what of them?" I gestured into the pool, where we could see the two curled protectively around each other. "What will happen with them, My Lord?"

"I promised your other self a life-time of happiness, and beyond." I could hear the smile in the jackal-headed god’s voice, and his strokes deepened. "But as for their descendants… Well, that is another story."

~End~

Chater 11 football here refers to soccer

Chapter 12 Note: Just to clarify, Osiris is the god of the underworld. Anubis is the god of the dead. Vert Fromage is French for green cheese, which for those really young, is what they used to think the moon was made of.

Chatper 14 Note: The quotes about airship flying are taken from an actual Zeppelin brochure.

Chapter 15 Note: Gadje is anyone not gypsy. A vista is a band of gypsies.

Chapter 16 Note: The Black Pearls of Anubis, which first appeared in Poor, Wand’ring One, were created by the high priest Imhotep in order to enslave the young prince, Ankhsunamen. They were found by Charlie Allnutt in the tomb of the Boy King, and wound up in Roddy Sayer’s possession.

Chapter 18 Note: Cosmography is another word for astronomy.

Chapter 19 Note: Although some sports cars of the day were known to reach speeds of 100 mph, the MGs’ top speed at this time was 70mph, which isn’t too shabby in anyone’s book.

Chapter 20 Note: Screaming abdabs is another term for the screaming mimis, which is terror, frights or nerves. Lawrence’s POV

CHAPTER 21 Note: Poor, Wand’ring One is from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Pirates of Penzance.

Shani means wonderful in African; Amala means hope in Arabic.