To Eternity (19 page)

Chapter 27

Magnus glanced to the clock. They'd half an hour before Ms. Raynalds should arrive.

Sian had tapped her coffee cup with her nails for the last few minutes as she stared out the window.

“Would you rather I met with this lady alone?”

“No, not at all,” she said. “I am intrigued.”

He ran his hand over the length of her curls. Loose today, her hair hung past her shoulders, a silky temptation to his touch.

Sian glanced up. “Am I so very obvious?”

“I know you're disturbed. I can see and feel you're concerned about today.”

She smiled. “Along with a few other things.”

“Yes. Is there anything I can say or do to help?”

She shook her head. “No, I know what's to come.” Her gaze met his and claimed his heart anew. “Mostly.”

“You know how important you are to me.” He bent and brushed a kiss against her lips. “Later today we'll meditate together and find each other when we do.”

Her cheeks rounded as she puffed out a breath. “Dreaming is easier. The meditation is so hard.”

“You need to still your mind of other concerns.”

A knock at the door silenced them both. Mrs. Tyson came in. “Ms. Raynalds is here, Mr. Johansson. I've shown her into the drawing room. I said you'd be with her in a moment or two.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tyson. We'll be there directly.” He clasped Sian's hand and tugged her up from her seat. “Are you ready?”

“I'm all right. Don't worry about me.”

“Good.”

They strolled to the yellow drawing room. He turned to her, his hand on the door handle. “Last chance to do something different.”

“No, Magnus. I want to meet Ms. Raynalds with you.”

Her courage still took him by surprise at times. He hoped it always would. “Very well, we'll go in.” He opened the door and walked through. Sian followed a footstep behind. One look and he understood. “Good morning, Ms. Raynalds. I'm Magnus Johansson. This is Sian.”

“Hello, Ms. Raynalds,” Sian said. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello, Mrs. Johansson, Mr. Johansson. This is a wonderful estate.”

He took in her slate blue eyes, the fair hair a match of her grandmother's in color. He didn't correct her about Sian, time would make her statement true. “I'm pleased you have found it so. Would you like coffee or shall we go directly to the walled garden?”

“I'd prefer to look at the garden. I like to get my first hands on impression, that way I have ideas to give you to think about after I leave today. We can discuss other things later.”

“Very well. We'll get coats on the way.” He took Sian's hand, led her and Ms. Raynalds out and down the corridor. Sian gave him several curious glances as they put on their coats and headed out of the portico. They waited for Ms. Raynalds to get her Wellington boots from her van, and once she'd donned them, they all strode along the cinder path.

“The walled garden was at one time the powerhouse of food production for the house,” he said as they strolled to the garden. “It has sadly been untended for over half a century.”

“But if the foundations are still good, it can be resurrected, Mr. Johansson. I assure you. Our company has worked on two projects of a similar nature. After assessment, we may find some of the plants can be rescued or reseeded.”

“Oh, good,” Sian said. “There are several fruit trees I hope might be salvageable.”

“Specialty ones?” Ms. Raynalds asked.

“Yes, peach trees.”

“We might be lucky, Mrs. Johansson.”

Sian glanced to him, and he gave a slight shake of his head while he concentrated on the sheer wealth of energy from this young woman striding beside them. The quality he'd found attractive in her grandmother oozed from her also. This close to the full moon, with his senses prodded by the forthcoming change, and Sian, too, he discerned something more from Martha Raynalds. The call of blood kin. This woman carried a part of him in her genes.

“Here we are,” he said as they reached the top of the rise where they could overlook the whole of the walled garden spread below. “As you can see, there is a great deal that needs to be done.”

“Good heavens, it's huge. I've not seen a plot this large in sixteen years in this business.”

“Is it too big to work on?” Sian asked.

“Oh, no, it will be a wonderful project to complete. The sheds are still useable?”

He heard Sian's little cough and immediately said, “Yes, though they could all do with a little work.”

“This is excellent. The brickwork all looks good, too. The Victorians knew how to build to last.”

“Part of the garden dates from the late eighteenth century,” he explained. “There was a hothouse at the far end of the south wall. I have photographs of the garden before it fell into disuse. You could look at them if you wish.”

“Would you like us to do a complete reconstruction of the garden as it was, sir? Or would you like to put your own stamp on the garden?” Ms. Raynalds asked.

He looked to Sian. “I…we would like to have some input in the ideas for the planting, yes?”

“Yes,” Sian said. “I've a lot of questions I'd like to ask when we go back inside.”

“Of course, Mrs. Johansson.”

“Would you like to go down into the garden, Ms. Raynalds?” he asked.

“Please, I'd like a brief look around, and please do call me Martha, if you would.”

“Very well, Martha. This way.” He led her and Sian down the path and through one of the gateways into the garden. Sian squeezed his fingers tight.

“Look at this.” Martha tapped at one wall of the arched gateway. “Best bonded brickwork. This garden must have been a top example in its heyday. I'll take a quick stroll down along the rows if you don't mind.”

“Of course, we'll wait here.”

The young woman strode down the path at a fast pace.

“Tell me?” Sian said.

“I believe my first inclination was correct.”

“But she doesn't know?”

He shook his head, watching as Martha bent and then crouched to look at something in one of the beds. “No. Perhaps Dorothy didn't tell her anything. I don't think she knows about her heritage.”

“Do you think she's like…us?”

“No, not quite, or not yet.”

“Yet?”

He linked Sian's arm through his. “It may be she could be awakened by something to that part of her heritage. I'd need to research it to discover if it were possible.”

“Oh, she's coming back. You'll have to tell me more later.”

“This is a fine garden, simply begging to be put to rights, Mr. Johansson. I'll be very happy to take on this project if you wish me to.”

“Then we'll make our way back to the house where we can discuss some ideas, perhaps some rough figures, and a timescale for activities.” He turned with Sian back toward the house. “Sian has a list of questions prepared, I believe.”

“Of course.” Martha strode beside them. “A quick estimate, I'd say there is approximately a year's work to get this back to planting readiness.”

“And the fruit trees?” Sian asked.

“There are some viable, but they'll need a lot of pruning, feeding, and general babying to get them back to their best. You've one or two breeds I've only seen recorded in Victorian head gardeners notebooks. I'm going to enjoy this project.”

“How big a team will you need for the work?” he asked.

“I'd say five permanent gardeners from my team, and extra staff for the heavy work as it comes up. I'll work section by section, you see, not try to do everything all at once.”

“Hmm, I think that's a good idea,” Sian said. “The work would all be quicker if your team were local.”

His heart sank. He'd no way to warn Sian against what he simply knew she'd propose next.

“Of course there are staff quarters over the stables, aren't there, Magnus?”

He nodded. “They haven't been used for some time. I don't know if they'd be suitable.”

“But we could look at them and see, couldn't we? Would your team prefer to live on-site for the project, Martha?”

The tall fair-haired woman stood still. “I can certainly ask. We have used a similar arrangement in the past on one project with the team members on-site for the week and off to see family at the weekend.”

He blew out a deep breath and looked to Sian. “After Christmas though, Martha. Work begins then.”

“Yes, Mr. Johansson. Due to the size of the garden, it will take at least that long for me to draw up plans for your approval. I made my estimate of working in December before I'd seen the size of the plot. I'll visit several times during the month I would think, with your approval.”

“Excellent. We'll go back indoors and get coffee.”

The three of them headed toward the house, discarded muddy Wellingtons and their coats, and made their way to the drawing room. Sian rang for coffee.

He sat opposite Martha. “It's obviously too early for a detailed costing, but I would like an estimate as soon as possible, and a list of staff numbers. Arrangements would have to bed only. I've a limited kitchen staff.”

“I understand. Provided there are cooking facilities in the accommodation, my team will be happy.”

“Good. As to the overall cost of the project, I'll await your figures.”

“Do you want me to source period planting for the garden, sir? I'm afraid if I do, it can add to the price.”

“Sian, what do you think?”

A trace of color highlighted her cheeks. “You must forgive me, but I've no idea what kind of money we're talking about to do this work. I think some original varieties of plants would be ideal. We also need to look at how we are going to utilize produce when the garden bears fruit.”

“Don't worry about the money. If we are going to do this, then it must be paid for.”

“I would suggest contacting local restaurants in the area as they are often the ones who will take smaller quantities of top grade fruit and vegetables in season,” Martha said. “There's no shortage of good restaurants in this locality. If you discuss the idea with several chefs and find out what they may need before we plant, we could base some of the planting according to what they may require.”

He glanced to Sian as Mrs. Tyson came in with a tray of coffee and biscuits.

“Thanks, Mrs. Tyson,” she said. “Would you tell Cook I'd like to have her ideas on fruit and vegetables for the walled garden if she'd share them with me?”

“Of course, madam. I'll tell her you asked.”

Sian picked up the coffee pot and poured. He stood to take a cup and pass it to Martha, then picked up one for himself. “I think the best thing regarding the planting will be to discuss it with Sian who will research the possibilities of retailing the produce.”

“I will?”

“Yes. I already have the orangery as a project to oversee.”

“Okay.” Sian turned to face Martha. “If you can get the details to me before the end of December, that would be great. Send me an e-mail regarding dates you might want to return to visit the garden. I'll also make sure the accommodation block above the stables is made ready for you and your team. How many was it again?”

“Five permanent gardeners will make up the main team for the duration of the project, with a possible addition of up to ten for occasional periods, Mrs. Johansson. I'll have a detailed schedule for you before Christmas.”

“I'll look forward to seeing it.”

Martha nodded. The charming, broad smile reminded him so much of Dorothy, he looked away.

“One thing I should have said earlier… I don't know if you've ever heard of it, but my team and I tend to find our planting work produces its best results if we time it to moon rhythms. You won't have any objection to us working in such a way will you?”

Sian glanced across, and he shook his head to still any response she might make to the request. He sipped from his coffee cup, gaining time to make sure his voice held no hint of his surprise. “No, Martha, we won't mind. We quite understand the importance of moon rhythms.”

Chapter 28

Magnus opened his eyes at the bleep of the alarm from Sian's phone. He roused from the deep meditative state he'd striven to find for the last two hours. Sian sat opposite, her eyes gleaming in the gloom. He'd not found a link to her as he'd meditated. She'd remained bundled in the here and now, a captive to her nervous fervor. He ached for her apprehensions, but tonight he understood each nuance of her fears. He could do nothing, it would seem, to give her peace.

He doused the scented candle on the small table between them. Her idea, and one he'd enjoyed. He offered her his hand. “I think we should go now.”

Silent, her eyes fixed on his, the depths shimmery as a mirror, she reached up for his fingers and grasped them tight in hers. “I feel so strange.”

A jolt of panic hit him. Surely, she couldn't have begun the change already. He searched her gaze. “We must hurry if we are to go to the pagoda.”

Their decision to use the pagoda had solved the problem of where to go this full moon for her first change to wolf form. He led her quickly out of the secret door. They sped down the path, hurrying over the slippery grass slope down toward the causeway on the lake. He inhaled deep, sucking in great breaths of the chilled night air. Sian's breaths rasped loud as she did the same. The flicker of change in his vision to the sharp focus of the wolf altered his conscious thoughts. He slowed his pace, but a snap of sensation bit.

“We must run.”

Sian's breathing grew faster, and a tremble ran through the fingers he clutched with his. She reached the bottom of the slope in front of him and yanked him along. They stumbled together over the causeway, slippery with the frost coating from the bitter night.

The moonlight hit him full-on as he paused to take a breath at the end of the causeway. Agonized by the white light, he writhed as the scraps of his skin opened to the moonbeams. With the last of his strength, he pushed Sian inside the pagoda and onto the day bed. He followed her and sagged to the floor, unable to stop the quicksilver race over his body.

* * * *

Inhaling deep, he uncurled to stand on his four feet and shook himself to free his fur of any detritus. The aroma he discovered in the air sent a shiver over him. The richness of female scent surrounded him. He nosed the cushions, sniffing at the shards of thin shell that crumbled at the touch of his breath. The heady mix of her scent set his blood pounding with need. He yowled with anticipation of finding her. She must be close by.

He sniffed the floor.

A howl echoed in the distance, but not hers. He lifted his head, searching the wealth of odors. No female would offer a challenge like that. He turned and paced out of the pagoda into the wealth of moonlight reflected from the lake. Trotting over the causeway, he inhaled again and found the sensual trail of her fragrance. His fur bristled when another call echoed in the woods. He must find his female, claim her, and his territory from some interloper.

He opened his mouth wide to allow the layers of aroma to fill not only his nose, but also his mouth, so he could sample every scent on the wind.

The night smells of the familiar surroundings held all manner of joys, but the fragrant track of his female led him onward and along the edge of the lake toward the woods. She had headed this way. She sought the protection of the mature trees in the woods across from the lake. Something had frightened her so she didn't wait for him to emerge from his cocoon.

A fresh howl, its raw savageness echoed into the night. The owner of that voice might be the reason she fled. This time he answered the challenge. He stretched his neck and opened his throat so his howl flooded out. The power of his wolf voice soared to the stars with the strength of his reply. Silence followed. He headed along the path and up to the tree line highlighted by the moon.

The she-scent he followed grew stronger, graced with high notes from her scent marking. He salivated at the sweetness of each mark he discovered. The first trees she'd sprayed proved so delightful he circled each, breathing the gorgeous fragrance in several times until he'd no choice but to leave his scent, too, combined with hers. He pressed on but at a slower pace to make sure he wouldn't miss any of the sensual joy as he journeyed to discover her. The small glade awash with moonlight made him pause. He could not only smell her, but also heard her shallow, quick breaths.

There.

Her body hunched. Her lustrous tail tucked under tight told of her fear. The exquisite and gleaming pale coat, accented with red tips on her flanks and tail, shone in the light.

Not fear of him.

The unknown howler in the starlight had caused her to feel threatened.

He'd show her she had nothing to fear.

They belonged in these woods together.

He inhaled and drank in the sight as well as her fragrance. Her green eyes shone and her gaze remained on him. The narrow, pale, furred face, highlighted with darker red tones, tilted after a moment of recognition. She deliberately angled her head, eyes downcast, so he could approach unchallenged. He ached to touch the rich lushness of her pelt, to sidle up beside her, to persuade her she was his and his alone.

Drawing closer, he paused and inhaled several times. A low rumble of appreciation burbled in his throat.

She turned away from him, the sweep of her flanks and her beautiful lustrous tail glistened in the moonlight.

A throb surged in his flesh as the corner of her pink tongue swept from the edge of her mouth and swiftly licked her lips. She stood, emboldened by his presence, perhaps. Delicate, on slender limbs, she took one pace away from him. Her muzzle lowered, she glanced back over her shoulder, enticement in the play of her every muscle. She headed out of the glade moving fast weaving her way through the trees. Her swift steps took her into the deeper woods.

The chase was on, and he'd no doubt it would have only one culmination. He raced after her and caught a quick flash of her long tail as she sprinted ahead. Her short yip, as she dashed away, beckoned him to follow, pleaded for him to catch her. The invitation to join her and romp among the leaves this winter night couldn't be refused. He wanted to play with her until they both lay breathless. Then he'd curl next to her and listen to her heartbeat.

A joy he'd never known before lured him onward. Her rich scent offered the promise of more. Nothing could be more enticing than the way she flicked her long tail and wafted her fragrance toward him.

High pitched and closer, a series of howls soured the night. The calls carried an ominous threat, one of battle. He answered again, sending a deep-throated response to whoever dared invade his territory.

A shimmery, lighter sound answered him. This seductive series of barks didn't come from the owner of the original threat. This call came from his female, and her note of impatience drove him on. He would have her close enough to stand in his shadow if this other male dared to interrupt their courtship. The race to find her took on fresh urgency. He wound his way through the trees fast to reach her before the other male could find her. A fresh howl disturbed the night.

His quarry stood nearby, her sides moving quickly as she regained her breath. He gave a low growl, and she spun to face him, her eyes fixed on him. The mischief from earlier had gone, replaced by wariness he'd hoped not to find. He took a step closer. She lifted her upper lip, revealing one of her long canines.

He licked his lips, then yawned, offering her a display of his teeth. Stepping closer, he barked. She swept her gaze to the floor and angled her head away. The gesture, a subtle but submissive welcome to his attentions, lured him closer still. When he reached her, he stood a whisker's length from her mouth. She leaned in closer, then flicked her tongue once against his muzzle. He opened his mouth and caught her nose between his teeth as gentle as if he held a cloud.

Her little yips floated like music. Lost to the beauty of her fragrance and the wonder of being beside her, he licked her nose, her muzzle, the dark fur outlining her eyes and back to her lips.

She angled her body in line with his until they stood shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, though she had nowhere near his bulk. He stroked his head along her neck and she returned the caress with a low rumbled sigh.

“Sian.”
The name whispered in his mind, softer than the rustle of the breeze in the wheat fields, velvety as the furry hide he rubbed against.
“Sian-wolf.”

“My Magnus-wolf.”

The words invaded his mind and they spun in his consciousness, prompting him to find a way to reply with his thoughts alone, something he'd never done before.
“My
love.”

Warm, smooth, and tickling, she used her tongue to lap at this face, over his eyes, along his jaw, right to the edge of his lips. A sweep of desire raced through him, and he ached to mate with her. He inhaled again, desperate to find if she might be ready for him to mount her. She gave a small pup-style yip and nipped at his ear. Obviously not, but they had days to enjoy each other. Before the end of the moon's influence, they'd mate.

She rubbed her shoulder and hip against his, licked his face until he could stand the teasing no more. He nudged her hard enough so she rolled over onto her side. He stood legs astride her where she lay and proceeded to lick down her throat. By the time he reached her belly, she whimpered, and enjoying her pleasure, he continued. She rolled back and forth, her front paws crossed as he nibbled at her.

Her little cries became a whine until finally he relented and allowed her up.

“My
goddess.”

Her brilliant eyes looked deep into his.

A sound he'd never heard before in this form reached him. Her laughter. She turned from him and raced between the trees. Her spine sinuous, her shoulders and hips, rippling in enticement, she ran. He followed, eager to enjoy this chase through the moonlit woods.

Her screeching yelp brought him up short in a scatter of dirt and plant debris.

She lay, cowering under the heavy foot of a gray wolf with white banding. One who snarled, his back humped in aggression as he bared full canines in an open-mouthed snarl.

Playtime was over.