Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (23 page)

hands.I played the mirror across my chest and nearly started

when Gaston’s face appeared over my right shoulder. “Am I scarred?” I asked, watching his reaction in the small silver oval. “Not like you, but…”

He frowned before noddingand runninghis fingers lightly over my back. “Not like me, nay; but there are white lines from the cane and strap allover your back, and little nicks and gouges fromthe cat. Theyare not ugly.”

“That is not my concern,” I sighed. “I want them. I want prooffor once that…”I sighed.
He nodded withunderstandingand his arms stole around me yet again. One hand slid across my skin untilit encountered a lump of ravaged flesh on my chest, and then his other hand guided the mirror so that I might see where he pointed.
“Like that,”he whispered. “A few dozen.”
I snorted. “It is irony. I have worse from being shot.” I positioned the mirror to show the wound Christine had given me. “And that hurt far less.”
His hands slid down my belly to find my surprised member. I watched the pleasure slide unbidden and unfeigned across my features in the mirror. I looked the breathless fool, but it was sincere.
“That is scarred no longer,” I breathed as he cajoled me to turgid life.
“Good,”he whispered as he pushed me to the wall.
I dropped the mirror onthe bureauand braced myselfas he applied the hog’s fat to a more useful purpose than shaving myface. He entered witha smoothpush, and I felt mycares ebb away along with the strength in my knees as he began to thrust. We did not stormthe gates of Heaven so much as we ambled to themwith stalwart purpose and knocked. I was relieved to have my faith rewarded when they swung open with little effort, and filled me withlight that chased awayeveryshadow.
When he finished with a soft grunt, he withdrew and sank to sit behind me; his still-stubbled cheek pressed to my flank, and his arms tangled about my thighs. I reached down to caress his face.
“Better?”he asked.
I snorted withquiet amusement. “Much.”
I sank down to join him and we held one another in a basket of limbs. We sat thusly for a time before at last—in companionable silence—deciding we must shave and dress. Then, in the clothes we had arrived in, and with pistols loaded anew, we left the roomto jointhe smallfete inprogress.
I felt every eye upon us as we crossed the balcony and descended the stairs. A cursory glance showed that all present save the priests had been told of our supposed deceit. Their reactions and anticipation were legion in their variety. The priests —ignorant of what was to come—were merely curious and disapproving. I resolved not to allow anyto daunt me.
The head Father looked much as I remembered him: dignified, with a lean face wrinkled by years of emotion—much as the Marquis’ was—and a white tonsure. He sat in the middle ofthe far side ofthe table, flanked by two ofhis own. I thought I recognized both, but I could not recalltheir names.
“Father Pierre, I presume,” I said before Theodore could gather himself to stand and introduce us. “We have met before, but perhaps not by my given name. I am John Williams. Allow me to introduce Gaston Sable, the Comte de Montren.” I bowed as a courtier should uponsuchanintroduction.
My matelot inclined his head in subtle greeting, and Father Pierre and his flustered priests scrambled to their feet to bow appropriately—alongwithmost ofour friends. ThenGaston and I took the available places on the bench across from the priests. Everyone returned to their seats, but the atriumwas quiet save the panting of dogs and mewling of children. I found myself awaitinga duel’s callto turnand fire.
I sighed and managed not to cringe when Samuel appeared at our elbows to fill our tankards with wine. This was followed by Hannah and the soup. There was nervous throat clearing, but still no one seemed to know how to proceed. Father Pierre studied us withopenconcern.
“My lord,” he said when we had been served, “I am pleased to see youagain.”
Gastonnodded amiablybut did not returnthe sentiment.
“We are pleased to be here,”I said.
“There is much I feel we should discuss,” Father Pierre continued—to Gaston.
“Oui,”Gastonsaid—and looked to me.
“There is a thingwe must tellyou,”I said. “We have only recentlyinformed our friends ofthe matter.”
Rachelsighed, somewhere downthe table.
“There is a thingI would sayfirst,”Gastonsaid quickly.
I glanced at him, doing my best to conceal my surprise. He did not look toward me: his gaze was steadfast upon Father Pierre.
“Monsieur Theodore has informed me that you have beentasked withreportingto your superiors about mysanityand competence as a lord,”Gastonsaid.
Father Pierre nodded uncomfortably. “Oui, my lord. Please allow me to assure you that I have no interest in passing judgment on the matter; nor have I been empowered to do so. I am merely to interview and observe you, and give a faithful accountingofsuch.”
Gaston nodded. “I intend to remain here and act as Cayonne’s physician until the matter is resolved. I believe I am allowed that trade as a nobleman. I willreturn to the Church and attend mass, take communion, and even confess. I will hold to mymarriage vows inmydealings withwomen.”
“I am relieved and pleased to hear it, my lord,” Father Pierre said, but his narrowed eyes showed that he heard Gaston dissemblingas I did.
“But,” my matelot said with a wolf’s voice worthy of his father, “I will not abandon my matelot. I will not lie and sneak about in the name ofdiscretion. I hold only to him. He is the seat ofmysanity. I willnot be fit to be a lord without him. Ifthat does not meet withthe Crown’s or Church’s expectations, and neither canfind acceptance ofit, thenso be it.”
Knowing he felt so was one thing, hearing him state it was another altogether. I thought my heart would burst from pride and love. It took all my resolve not to bowl him from the benchand smother himwithkisses.
“But… my son, you cannot contradict the laws of God on this matter...” Father Pierre said gravely, but his gaze was speculative.
“Oui, I would be
mad
to do so,” Gaston said with a firm smile that was all Horse. “And I will remain in the New World for allofmydays and trouble no one.”
The good father cast about for some support and found

none from me and apparently none elsewhere at the tables. He

none from me and apparently none elsewhere at the tables. He finally sighed and nodded in acquiescence. “I see.” And then some new understanding dawned behind his eyes, and his brow smoothed and he said, “I see,”againwitha touchofwonder.

“Willnot your father be disappointed?” he asked Gaston

 

earnestly.“It cannot be helped,”Gastonsaid sadly.

Father Pierre nodded again. “I see.” He thoughtfully contemplated his soup over steepled fingers.
“And there is the other matter,” Gaston said and looked to me.
Our gaze met, and it was as if he had handed me his heart. I tried to give himmine inreturn. We smiled as one.
I turned back to the priest, who was watching us with wonder. I had expected condemnation, and thus his expression caused me to stumble and robbed me ofmybravado.
I stirred mysoup and wondered how to begin. “We wish it to be known that we have engaged in a deceit,” I said carefully. “Lord Montren will write his father about the matter as soon as possible, and we have commenced telling all we know upon our arrival. The matter has apparently caused a great deal ofhavoc, and we would see that ended.”
I discovered I could not meet his gaze and deliver the rest, so I told my soup, “Lord Montren did indeed marry Mademoiselle Christine Vines—the womanwho claims she is his wife in France. When he found her unsuitable, we paid the pastor in the Port Royal church to have the matter annulled— claiming it was not consummated. But that too was a lie. She has

born Lord Montren a child. He then married Mademoiselle

 

born Lord Montren a child. He then married Mademoiselle Agnes Chelsea to appease his father.

“The Marquis is innocent of all involvement and as deceived as any other in this matter, as were all present. Only Lord Montren and I—and Mademoiselle Vines—actually Lady Sable—knew of the matter and the deceit. Well, and the English priest.”

All was still at the table. I finally dared to meet Father Pierre’s gaze.
“You are lying,” he said with conviction and curiosity, his gaze dartingto Gastonand Theodore.
I sighed and shrugged, struggling to think of how to explain. One ofthe babes wailed into the uncomfortable silence it could surely sense, and two of our women turned to take it up. I smiled resolutely.
“Is there not a tale ofwise King Solomon and a disputed infant?” I asked. “Two mothers came to him, both claiming a single child as theirs. Solomon pronounces that the matter should be settled by dividing the child in two, and immediately one of the mothers relinquishes her claim. And King Solomon awards that woman the child, saying she was obviously the mother because she put the child’s welfare above her own.”
“Oui, I know that story,”Father Pierre said.
“Well, Father, we have two children and only one sire. We are doing the best we can to serve the needs of the children.”
His breath caught and he looked away with a deeplyfurrowed brow. “I must think—and pray for guidance—a great

deal.”

 

deal.”

And, I imagined, write to France for guidance as well, but then I saw himlook askance at one of his fellow priests who was eyeing me with confusion. I resolved to give Father Pierre the benefit of doubt: Theodore had thought hima sincerely pious man.

Father Pierre excused himself and stood, his baffled cohorts following suit. All said their goodbyes and watched the priests leave.

I tasted mysoup and found it quite good.

“There you go again,” Gaston whispered, “driving the priests awaybefore we evenfinishthe soup.”
I sprayed my soup back into the bowl with a fit of surprised amusement.
Gaston smiled and set about eating his with grace and

decorum.“So that’s that, then?”Liamasked inEnglish.

 

“For now,”I said.

There was still an awkward silence hanging over the table. I looked up and around and found curious and thoughtful gazes uponus. And thenthere was Doucette:he was glaringwith great malice.

“Thank you,”I said to all—except Doucette. There were nods and eyes darted away—except for

Rachel.
“I do not like lyingto priests,”she said emphatically. “I feel it is of more import that I not lie to God,” I said

diffidently.

She sighed. “Will, it is one and the same.”
She sighed. “Will, it is one and the same.”
“I do not feelthat is true,”I said.
“I suppose that is sometimes true,”she said sadly. “Youdo not believe inGod!”Doucette spat at me. “That is between me and God and does not involve

you,”I said and met his angrygaze.

He snorted. “Liar!” Yvette tried to hush him, but he waved her off. “I am not so addled I cannot see a liar!” He turned back to me. “Youhave ruined him!”

“Shut up, Dominic,”Gastonsaid firmly.

Doucette sputtered on for a second, but he dropped his eyes and studied the table, commencing to rock back and forth withapparent frustration.

“I think it went well,” Agnes said into the silence that

 

followed.“Aye, oui,”Rucker agreed withaneffusive nod.

I looked to Theodore. He smiled at me with a fatherly mien. I sighed withrelief.
There was a hailfromthe hospitalward:the type offered fromone ship to another uponapproach.
“Ach, we need not go lookin’ fur ’em, then,” Liam said witha grin.
Our much-beloved cabal entered the atrium from the ward—and my gut clenched, and I almost wished for the awkward silence that had preceded their arrival. Gaston and I shared a resolute glance and stood as one. Our friends were already giving happy greeting to one another. This stilled when the newcomers saw us.
“Oh thank God!” Dickey cried and ran to attempt to
“Oh thank God!” Dickey cried and ran to attempt to embrace us both at the same time. He was immediately followed by the usually laconic Bard: his face split by a sincere and happy smile I had rarely seen. I held them both in turn with great relief inmyheart.
They were followed by Julio. I could see Davey beyond his shoulder, holdingback, frowning.
“I am glad you are well,” I told Julio. Then I saw the brace upon his leg and realized the hard thing I was grinding into his ribs with my embrace was a crutch. “Well… alive,” I quickly

amended.His smile held no acrimony. “I amwellenough. I amvery

pleased youare… better?”
“Aye,”I assured him. “I ammuchmended inthe heart.” He gave anunderstandingnod. “Theytold us…” “Please sayno more.”
He nodded withevenmore understanding, and a trace of

sympathywhichtroubled me.

We released one another and I turned to find Pete filling my vision. The look in his eyes did not bode well—I did not even see his fist. I had the vague sensation of being lifted off my feet and then falling as stars exploded in my vision along with a somewhat remembered pain in my jaw. Then I was lying upon the floor: I did not precisely remember landing. The only thought I could initially form in my spinning head was that I surely deserved the blow. I stared up at the clouds. They were awash with a plethora of purples and oranges from the setting sun. I wondered ifhe had brokenmyjaw again.

Gaston’s legs appeared above me. “He deserved that, but youwillnot strike himagain,”mymatelot said calmly. “NotIf’EGoesAn’Sees’IsSister,”Pete rumbled. “Aye,” I said weakly; though I wished to do as he said

about as muchas I wished for himto strike me again.

I tasted blood. I sighed and wrapped an armaround my matelot’s calf, questing upward for purchase. His hand appeared and he pulled me to myfeet.

His gaze was full of concern and resignation as he examined my jaw and teeth. “You will likely lose that one that has been troubling you,” he said and poked the offending tooth so that I winced. “And your cheek is quite cut, but unless you feel shooting pains when moving it, I feel your jaw is not broken.”

I did not feel such pain, and so I shook my head resolutelyand leaned past himto spit blood.
When I looked up I saw Striker watching us. His eyes were filled with anger and wariness I knew well: it had been my owntowards himafter the events ofPorto Bello. I winced.
I looked away and found Cudro eclipsing all else. “Gods,” I mumbled. His eyes were not angry or cold. “Do you wishto strike me too?”I asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said jovially. “Can I turn my back on you?”
“I amsorry, I am…”
“Stop!” he commanded and pulled me to his great barrel of a chest for a lengthy embrace that smothered all complaint— and fear that he would not forgive:he alreadyhad.
“How are you?” he asked us when he released me. “I thought youwould show once the rains ended.”
“We are much better, thank you,” Gaston told him with reliefthat echoed myown.
There was a shadow at Cudro’s side and I found Ash in it, smiling with as much regard for us as his matelot. I embraced him with even more relief: a man might choose to forgive, but sometimes his matelot could harbor a grudge—as Davey obviouslydid.
Emboldened by the acceptance of Cudro and Ash, I looked around once again. We had been greeted—after a fashion, considering Pete—by allwho had arrived save Striker. I looked to himagain. Now his gaze held the feigned nonchalance ofa stranger.
I had done many a damned thing in my life, but I did not wishto countenance losinga friend again.
“Striker,”I said and took a step toward him.
Pete blocked mypath. “Leave’Im,”he said gruffly.
I met his gaze with surprise and the beginnings of somewhat righteous anger that he should interfere in my attempt to make amends. I knew I had no business owning the damn emotion; and thenwhat I saw inPete’s eyes drove it awayas ifit had not existed. The Golden One appeared tired, old, and very