LYCAN LEGACY

episode 3

He didn't know anyone in Westfield and going

there didn't solve his situation with Miss Hazel. "But the girl "Does not need a wolf in her midst, nor would she tolerate one. You can

take my word for that. Once you have control of yourself, you can seek her

out and see what's to be done with the mess you've made. or the Duke of Blackmoor's butler called from the

doorway of the study. "Your coach has arrived."

Oliver had sent for his carriage to take him, along with a letter of

introduction from the major to his shipbuilding cousin, Mr. Nick.

Oliver from his seat and stepped toward the old butler. Still, there was

something he had to do before he set off for the Netherlands, "I'd like a word with Miss

Hazel first, if you don't mind, Billings.

The old servant frowned at him. "I'm afraid that's not possible, my lord."

Not possible? Oliver resisted the urge to snort. He didn't want to spend any more

time at Westfield Hal than was necessary but seeing

Hazel before he left for the place was of the utmost importance. If he

truly was connected to the chit until the end of time, it would be best if they

got a few things straight before he departed.

"I'm not leaving until I speak with Miss Hazel"

The butler sighed irritably. "Miss Hazel is no longer in residence, my lord. So

it won't matter how long you wait."

"No longer in residence?" Oliver. How was that even possible? Only a

a few hours earlier, he'd kissed the girl, held her against him, and claimed

her.

"I believe she has started for home, sir."

Did she leave without speaking to him, without giving him a chance to explain? Oliver thrust his hand into his pocket and crumpled the major's letter in his fist.

He stalked out of the manor and was immediately assaulted by her honeysuckle

scent. He continued down the stone steps and hauled open the door to

his traveling coach. Oliver slumped against the squabs and glared at the empty

spot across from him. The journey was going to be a very long one.

"Glasgow?" His coachman, Rens, asked from the open door.

Oliver nodded once. Major hadn't given him any choice in the matter.

Glasgow, for God's sake. Surely the old officer could have found him a

mentor in London, someone who wasn't so bloody far away. The trip would take

forever on the North Road in the middle of winter. Perhaps major

thought he'd tumble to his death in the Pennines. Maybe that was the old man's

plan.

Oliver sighed. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, Rens, but safety is of the utmost

concern. Watch the roads, will you? Hazel absently rubbed her shoulder as she tugged the blue Hazel plaid closer

about her legs. Even though her gift of sight had allowed her to see

many things she shouldn't, including many intimate scenes, she only hovered at

the edge of those images. She never saw what went on between

men and women behind closed doors. Of that, she was very glad. Until now.

She wanted more than anything to ask if it was normal for a man in the throes of

passion to gnaw on one's coll Carbone. But that would be improper. Who in the world could she even ask? Al her coven sisters in Netherland,

were maidens, just as she was. Aside from Elsa, of course, whom

she'd just left behind in Hampshire. Hazel sighed deeply.

"Are ye alright, Miss?" her maid, Annie, asked from where she rested on the other side of the coach.

The question drew Hazel from her reverie. But just barely. "What did ye say?" she

mumbled as she pulled the collar of her traveling dress over to cover

the mark.

"I asked if you're alright," Annie repeated, her eyebrows scrunching together.

"I'm fine. I can not imagine why you would think otherwise." Hazel closed her eyes

and laid her head back against the leather squabs.

"I'm worried about you, is all. First, we leave Westfield Hal in the dead of night

like thieves. You didn't even say goodbye to Lady Elsa. And now we're

so fretful you can not even sleep.

Hazel raised her head and stared at her maid. Annie was years older than Hazel, a

decade or so. Perhaps she could ask her. Hazel shook that

thought away as quickly as it arose.

"Does it have something to do with that love bite on yer neck?

Hazel reached to r collar over farther. "I don't know what you mean," she

gasped.

"Aye, you do." Annie smiled and nodded her head, making her dark curls bob up

and down. "You can not lie to me, Miss. I'm the one who does your hair,

and I've kent you since you were a wee bairn. And you have a little love

bite under your ear, there. It was not there yesterday."

"Under my ear?" Hazel echoed in surprise, trailing her fingers up her neck.

Annie wasn't talking about the bite. Did the blasted man leave another

mark?

"Aye," the maid confirmed. "Who was he? And what made you want to run back

to burgh when you enjoyed him so much?"Enjoyed?" Hazel gasped. Then she muttered under her breath, "I wouldna go

that far." But she had enjoyed it, right until the moment he mistook her

for a piece of meat.

"You can not lie t me, Miss. I know ye as well as yer own papa, maybe even better."

She shook her finger at Hazel playfully. "So, don't even attempt it."

This was much too embarrassing to discuss after all. She'd known it would be.

"Who was he?" Annie persisted.

"I don't know who he was," Hazel finally admitted.

"Oh, a handsome stranger?" Annie let her voice trail off as her eyebrows

arched. "Where did you meet him?"

"In the Duke of Blackmoor's study." Hazel finally sighed. "I was looking for a

book."

"And?" the maid prompted.

"And he just... kissed me." Hazel shrugged her shoulders, unsure what else to say.

Annie sat back against the squabs and eyed her mistress warily. "Without even

being' properly introduced? Your father would not approve.

"You can not tell Papa, Annie. Promise me."

The maid frowned.

"Please, Annie," Hazel pleaded. Her father wouldn't be at all happy about the

the situation and nothing could be done about it now, anyway.

"Did this man just grab you, Miss?

"Well," Hazel hesitated, suddenly feeling protective of the man, although that was

a ludicrous thought. "He grabbed me," she admitted. "But I didn't mind," she quickly added. Then she drew in a deep breath and steeled herself

before finally asking, "So, the 'love bites' as you call them. They're what usually goes on between a man and a woman?"

"Aye, that and more. But your husband will teach you all you need to be taken about that. You don't need the likes of me doing it."

A husband. "If I ever find one," Hazel said, holding up both hands in surrender.

"Never mind... it's no' important."

"But this man..." Annie started.

Hazel shook her head. "He's in Hampshire, and we're on the way back to

the burgh. I'll no' see him again." She laid her head back and feigned sleep,

her heart a bit heavier than it had been before the conversation. The faint smell of honeysuckle tortured Oliver all day. He growled as he peered out

the window into the darkness surrounding the coach. Al he needed

was to follow Miss Hazel's scent for a fortnight. That would make him go

completely mad. He snorted to himself and leaned back against the squabs.

Who was he fooling? He'd already lost his mind. Traveling to godforsaken

Glasgow to ask a shipbuilder to teach him to heel, sit, and stay. A mentor.

He snorted. It sounded insane. On the upside, if his father got wind of this, the news would probably push the old cur right over the edge. Perhaps Oliver

should post a letter informing his father of his plans.

He shook his head at the thought. No reason to stir up that hornet's nest. With

any luck, the Marquess of ford would forget he even had a son.

After twenty-six years, the odds weren't particularly in Oliver's favor in that

regard, but a man could always hope.

Perhaps Glasgow wouldn't be so bad after all. Since Miss Hazel was headed

there as well, he could keep an eye on her. Make sure no one

snatched her from him before he had a chance to court her properly. An image of his angel flashed in his mind. Flaxen hair, so soft and long he

wanted to wrap a curl around his finger and simply stroke it with his thumb.

Light blue eyes the color of a cloudless sky. Lips so perfectly kissable that he

grew hard just thinking about them.

No, upon further thought, Glasgow could be exactly what he needed.