Page 84 of Bloodgrove

“One sound and your honor is ruined,” he whispered into her ear, though Elodie’s eyelids were already fluttering shut.

The sleigh bells rang, the snow crunched, and the wind howled. Otherwise, the dead landscape was silent. Though Will still listened for the strange voice, he heard only Elodie’s gasps as his fingers caressed her damp center and spread her wetness over her lips. Soon, even the voice was forgotten while he pressed small kisses to her throat. He never entered her, only teased and cherished her. But it was enough—her fingers clawed into his coat. Her brow rested against his shoulder, and they breathed together. White clouds hung before their mouths, dusting the furs with ice crystals. But Will knew only heat and burned with her as he drove her toward her first climax.

He felt her release inside his heart and trembled with her. The wind swallowed her soft whimper and carried it away. Wonder shone in her eyes. He kissed her brow and wanted nothing more than to draw her fully into his arms and hold her. Instead, they remained leaning against one another.

“So beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her brow once more. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked away the final drops of her.

Dusk had fallen by the time they reached Wilkinson Castle. The sky melted with the land, and above the roofs, the clouds became snowdrifts spilling down from the black gables.

Will looked up at the arch as the sleigh swept through without slowing. Where the mountains, hills, and sea met, three towers crouched like ravens upon a cliff. Their windows were small, built to withstand weather that shifted throughout the year between savage ocean storms and freezing mountain winds.

“Welcome home,” Will said dryly, though the storm nearly swallowed his words.

Elodie still managed to glare at him. “It is grotesque.”

Three servants helped them inside and had to brace their shoulders against the gate to shut out the snowstorm. They took the ice-encrusted coats from them, and the butler bowed deeply.

“Welcome to Wilkinson Castle. It is our honor to receive the future lady of the house. At present, we are the only staff in residence. Duke Wilkinson intended to arrive with the remaining servants.”

Elodie raised an eyebrow but merely nodded. “In this storm, it will be a miracle if he reaches us before morning.”

“We have received word that Duke Wilkinson must remain in Bloodgrove until the storm passes. A tree has fallen across the bridge at Karl’s Grave and cannot be removed until after the solstice,” the butler explained.

Will’s gaze darted toward Elodie. He knew exactly which trees the man meant. Their only pause had been at that windswept gorge, and Elodie had disappeared behind several trees to relieve herself. He would not put it past her to have cast a spell to keep her fiancé away.

“What a coincidence,” he said, and Elodie sighed mournfully.

Will left the greetings to Elodie and wandered instead through the vast entrance hall to restore some circulation to his stiff legs, passing row upon row of ancestral portraits. An immense family tree covered one wall, many of its branches ending abruptly. Children who had not reached adulthood were usually marked beside the year of their death with a red droplet, presumably indicating that they had succumbed to bloodlust.

Elodie betrayed nothing and played the part of the devastated fiancée. “We will miss him. It was meant to be our first solstice together. But we have our entire lives ahead of us.”

“You will therefore be alone for the holiday. In this storm, Mr. Arcos is unlikely to attempt the journey either,” the butler added, and at that news, Will’s disappointment was genuine.

The moment the butler led the way toward their bedrooms, Will caught up with Elodie and gave her a knowing look. “Was this your plan from the beginning?”

“Of course. Do you think I want to be trapped inside this ancient ruin with the duke?”

Will laughed softly. “I love your mind—when you use it for good.”

Chapter 45

“Are you quite certain?” the cook asked, looking Will over once more from his perfectly styled hair to the gleaming tips of his shoes.

“Yes. I would be very grateful.”

The storm had eased in the morning, and Will had woken with a plan. While the butler occupied Elodie with wedding arrangements and the future management of the household, he sought out the kitchen.

He gave the gaunt cook his most charming smile, though he had forgotten what an unsettling sight he could be to many people: a little too tall, dressed in his fine clothes, his long hair woven today into traditional braids. Still, he had already won his first victory. The cook had not thrown him out of the kitchen, despite her protests of, “My lord, you will cover yourself in soot! The servants will assist you.” Winning her over for the rest of his plan would therefore be child’s play.

He had already secured the allegiance of her apprentice, and the girl handed him a tin of cookies. He leaned between her worktable and the stove, his legs crossed, feeling wonderfully at home. The scents reminded him of winter days with his mother: the clatter of dishes, the spiced sweetness of the cookies.

“I know the duke follows a very strict diet, but he is not here,” Will insisted. “And these cookies are delicious. Please. Only for us—I will not tell a soul.”

The cook planted her hands on her hips and released a weary sigh, while her apprentice nodded vigorously. “Very well. Though I consider it entirely inappropriate that the duchess should be served commoner’s food. Duke Wilkinson says a good mage should not distract his mind with such things.”

“Thank you!” Will beamed at her. “We will not be performing any more magic that night, so sugar will not prevent us from accomplishing great wonders.”

The cook muttered something unintelligible and chased him away with her wooden spoon. Her apprentice slipped him several more cookies with a wink, and just as he turned the corner, he caught a small smile upon the older woman’s face.