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“For the love of all that’s holy, man, will ye attend me?” The stable master shouted. “I asked if ye knew where the stud is? Big lad, chestnut, meant to be seeing to those fine ladies.”
“I am afraid I do not,” Cecil said. “Only six of the mares were present, and then that one came and attacked my brother.” They turned to look at the mare, who bared her teeth at them.
“Know anything about that will of her father’s? The duke’s people will be going over the estate and are looking for any ideas to aid the search.”
“Eh, no.” Cecil cringed as both dogs snarled. “I spent little time here as a child. When I did, Felicity and I were the best of friends, I must say, the larks we had! She was even then quite attached to the horses and had many hidey holes in the barn—”
The black dog let out a series of howls and barks, and several magpies, who had been lurking about in the trees, took flight toward Templeton House.
“Is that all you know?”
He explained his father’s plan to kill the horses and his suspicions that Felicity was meant to find them dead in the paddock. The black dog snarled unceasingly throughout his account, and Cecil ensured that the part he played in the success of this rescue scheme was not understated. He concluded: “And if there is anything else I can do to help my cousin, I am happy to do it.” And he meant it. This satisfied the big, black dog. How he knew this he did not know.
Marshall turned to the big dogs. “Will we take him back with us?”
The black one made a sound that gave even the diabolical mare pause; her ears perked up, and she bobbed her head at him respectfully. The blond one barked, and the two began to argue—Cecil was certain that Bedlam might be a lovely release from these flights of fancy. Finally, the blond one howled but rolled and exposed his belly to the black one. The latter caught Cecil’s eye and held it; not daring to breathe, Cecil lowered his gaze and, for some ridiculous reason, bowed to the beast.
Who then chuffed and bounded away after the magpies. The blond one glared at Cecil, and after a rush of air and the sound of cracking bones, the youngest Purcell, who’d had more than enough shocks for one day, looked upon what stood before him and fell flat on his back in a faint.
* * *
“That clearly runs in the family.” As any Shifter, Bates was comfortable in his naked skin.
“What’ll we do with that one?” Marshall gestured to Rollo, who was curled in a ball and shivering beneath the mare’s belly.
“Alpha has plans for him that involve a long sea voyage.” Bates used his hands to scrub through his hair, as if he had not entirely left the wolf behind. “Ensure that the villagers keep the gunmen under guard, and take this one,” he nudged Cecil with his foot, “and tell O’Mara only her finest glamour will do.”
“What about these two?” Marshall looked at Aherne and Bailey, who had been rather blasé about the whole thing.
They cricked their necks at Bates, and Marshall made a show of throwing his hands in the air. “Is there a human being left in England? I’d like to know.” He laughed and chucked the two lads on the shoulders. “Don’t tell me that mare…?”
“Nah,” said Bailey, and left it at that.
“Delilah’s awful canny for ananimalis purum,” said Aherne. “I’ll take her on down to the Hall, and if it’s all the same to you, we’ll be staying to mind them mares.”
“Her Grace would have it no other way.” Bates let out a deep breath. “His Grace has gone to meet her at Templeton House, but I daresay one of you might at least impart the knowledge the horses are safe?”
“Yah,” said Bailey, who then slunk away.
“A man of few words,” Marshall commented.
“Only around the big bads,” Aherne replied.
“Sure, and that’s only what I call them myself,” said Marshall, tossing a companionable arm around the man’s shoulders as they made their way over to Delilah. “Now, I know the law an’ all, but I’m guessing you’re not as mangy as our Beta there?”
Bates snarled, Changed, and headed off to see if the magpies had any news.
Sixteen
Felicity galloped Jupiter as she had in the meadow, this time with intent rather than for pleasure. As the miles sped by, only her superior abilities as an equestrienne allowed her to ride full tilt over unfamiliar roads and fields. Marshall’s warning about keeping the gelding off the roads was nonsense, and she pushed him as she had never pushed a horse before, leaping intemperately over stiles and walls along the way; thankfully he was well able for it and enjoyed being given his head. Her mind turned her cousin’s message over and over,SAVE MARES, its brevity causing her thoughts to run riot. Her band was in mortal danger, for what but the direst of schemes could require such a terse message?
She charged into the stable yard at Templeton House and found it deserted, as deserted as the western paddock, where Aherne had been meant to hide the mares. Swinging down from Jupiter, she stood, unsure what to do next, fearing the worst. She rolled up the stirrups and tied up Jupiter’s reins, then a shout called her attention.
“Miss!”
Felicity turned: it was Bailey, the second head lad. She never quite understood the point of the distinction, but first head lad Aherne had insisted. Bailey was long of leg and broad of shoulder, and looked powerful yet lithe with it. His great mane of sandy hair flopped around sharp, amber-colored eyes lined with thick, black lashes.
“How are ye, miss?” He stopped well short of her and tugged his forelock like to tear it off his skull.
