Chapter 5
Chapter Five
brIGID
What have I done?
I chewed on the corner of my thumbnail, counting the bricks in the wall in front of me, until a steaming roll appeared in front of my face. Queasy as I was, I snatched it from the gnarled hand that held it and took a rough bite, chewing frantically.
What have I done? I wondered once more. Nothing, a stronger voice reminded me. This was his decision, his bold declaration in front of a half dozen betas from Grave Hills. His madcap plan that I couldn't really believe he'd considered thoroughly, in spite of his claim.
And then I'd encouraged him, promising him children, demanding years at his side!
What have I done?
"What a stroke of luck this is, lovey," Maggie declared, patting my hand as I tore the roll to little pieces, stuffing them into my mouth one by one until my cheeks were swollen. "That you should be Grave Hills' omega. And a fine one you'll be for the lad."
Lad. As if the enormous man, devastatingly attractive, brooding one moment and smirking gently the next, could be called a lad.
Alpha Feargus. Torion, I corrected myself, because "Alpha Feargus" brought to mind his father, and aside from their size, they bore little resemblance.
I had told that man I would bed him. Not so directly, but it'd been implied when I'd demanded several children, of course. And he'd…agreed.
'Then you're mine.'
Fang's fire, what have I done?
I'd come to the keep yesterday wanting to plead for the alpha's intervention, not his bed.
But I'd arrived too early, left sitting in the great hall with barely a word from any of the servants who passed me.
I'd had to beg for water and a bite to eat from Maggie, and still, I'd waited hours longer.
Long enough to grow tired and forget my entire speech I'd prepared.
Instead, I'd found myself startled by the new alpha, handsome and young and warm with that cheerfully loose way of men who'd been drinking.
I'd stammered out a request and been tucked into what must've been a fine guest room at one point, but was now dusty.
And then when I'd tried to leave this morning, too embarrassed by the turn of events, I'd run into Malcolm, who'd known immediately what my presence in the keep meant.
"It's likely too soon to say so, but his old lordship had a little too much mind for his wife and not enough for the keep, let alone the Hills," Maggie continued in her ramble, the speech rousing me from my panic.
"Mags," I chided, glancing around the room. We weren't exactly alone in the kitchens, but the other staff were certainly keeping their distance.
From me.
Because I was their alpha's omega now. And I was hiding in the kitchens like a servant who'd been scolded.
"You're just a practical girl, if you don't mind me saying. And he's an eager lad, was always trying to bend his father's ear about some local problem or the other. You'll be a good pair for us," Maggie murmured.
Her speech was a little too familiar, now that my position had changed, but I was grateful because it was just what I needed to hear.
There was work to be done, and I was accustomed to work.
I gathered up the crumbs from the table and then straightened my skirts.
I'd worn my best to see the alpha, but my best was from the time before I'd left Malcolm and was now worn enough to be serviceable to the day.
"Right. Show me the worst of it, Mags," I said, taking my shawl from my shoulders and wrapping it around my waist.
"We'll start with the cook," Maggie hissed in my ear, and I flinched.
"Second worst, in that case," I whispered back, eyeing the brawny old man pounding a cut of meat with a mallet in the corner of the room.
Maggie snickered and led me out of the kitchen. "Better give you a look at the linens."
The linens had been left to molder, the wool blankets were moth eaten, the pantry and stables were both infested with mice, and there was a hole in the roof that was leaking into two of the guest rooms. Thankfully, not mine.
"I don't understand," I said to Maggie hours later as I watched men and women racing across the main floor and past me in the upper halls. "There's plenty of staff."
"Been no supervision, has there?" Maggie said with a shrug. "Not since the housekeeper left after the lady herself died."
The housekeeper had come to Grave Hills with Lachlan's omega, and had apparently been quite eager to leave after her mistress's passing.
With no direction from the alpha in mourning, there was no one to replace her, not in any official capacity.
The cook kept the kitchen and the stables managed themselves, but no one had offered to rise up in the maids.
In fact, near as I could tell, most of the maids seemed to go to great lengths to undermine one another.
I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Maggie, who was looking smugly and cheerfully down at the activity of the keep.
She'd dragged me from top to bottom, and while she was starting to look a little worn and her limp was showing more than it had at the start of the morning, she seemed bright-eyed and flushed with renewed energy.
"Could you manage them, Mags?" I asked gently.
I halfway expected the woman to jump at the chance, but she frowned at the question and gave it a good time to mull over.
"I expect I could. I've been a maid for two alphas and their omegas now, seen the keep at its best, I think. You'll find someone better suited to the work soon enough, but I won't shy from helping now."
I sighed and nodded. "Get us through the rut, at least," I said, and she hummed in agreement. "Bring any argument to me until they know better than to not listen to you."
I wasn't sure how long it would take for Torion's rut to take hold. He'd only just taken the mantle of alpha, and the general idea was that a new alpha was vulnerable for a time until their first rut, when the power truly set in. It was also said that a good omega could bring a rut on faster.
I wasn't sure what constituted a good omega, in spite of my claims to Torion that I was one.
I'd been told I was when I was young—pretty and sweet and raised to manage a fine house.
And for a time, Malcolm had shown himself as pleased with me, certainly long enough to woo and choose me, to rut me.
But I imagined a good omega would be able to keep her beta's attention, keep him from straying to other women's company.
I knew better than to assume faithfulness now, but I had wrought the promise of children to love and a home to share with them from the alpha.
Maybe not wrought, I thought. He hadn't seemed to have any reservations when it came to agreeing to the deal.
Which was even more suspicious. If I'd asked him to keep only my company in bed, he'd no doubt have had more objections to give. Which is why I hadn't asked. Expecting indifference from the alpha was better than having my heart seduced by Malcolm once more. Having it broken again.
"I'd like to see the alpha's quarters. I have a nest to plan," I said, turning my mind back to the present.
Maggie smacked her lips and nodded, but asked, "Do you mean where he sleeps now, or where the alpha's meant to sleep?"
A strange flare of panic rose up in me, and I tamped it down quickly. "Meant to," I said. It was no business of mine where the alpha was sleeping. I'd promised him a son, and that meant we'd have to wait for his rut to arrive for any proper bedding to commence.
Malcolm had blamed our not waiting on why I'd failed to conceive a child during our first rut together. And I'd never told him the second had been a success, however briefly.
I followed Maggie down a central hallway and then up a spiraling set of stairs. There were two doors at the top landing, and she opened the one on the right.
As a heavy, oily scent hit my nose, mineral and dark, I realized what Maggie had meant when she said this was where the alpha, Torion, should be sleeping. This was his father's room. It was thick with an unpleasantly rich odor and lingering traces of something cloyingly sweet, like honeysuckle.
"Needs a bit of dusting," Maggie said.
Which was certainly true, with dust motes shining and passing by tall, sunny windows. It was a beautiful, large room, but I itched to back out the door. Being here with Torion would be too uncomfortable, the scents too strong. I couldn't build a nest here.
"It needs washed top to bottom." And I wasn't sure even that would do the trick. I backed up as I spoke and then jumped as a warm and heavy pair of hands settled on my shoulder.
"No." The word was hard, and Maggie, who'd ventured deeper into the space than I could stand to, startled with a squawk.
I took a deep breath, expecting to brace against anger, and instead found myself unwinding slightly. Which was concerning on its own.
"Not yet," Torion Feargus said from behind us.
"No," I agreed, keeping my own voice gentle as I turned.
The alpha was close, my shoulders hitting the solid strength of his forearm.
He had a shirt on now, loose and dirty at the cuffs, covering the broad expanse of bronze muscle he'd been showing when he'd claimed me in front of Malcolm and several others.
The muscle I'd done my best to ignore as I'd bargained out a life with him.
"No, we won't touch this room yet," I said, soothing the words.
The tension that revealed the brutal strength of the alpha in this man—a man who transformed so quickly from lackadaisical to intent, mercurially serious and then youthfully impulsive—eased slightly. He backed out of the doorway, and I followed the urging of his hand gratefully.
"I know it will have to be done at some point," he said, frowning.
"Perhaps we could…open the windows for a few hours each day?" I suggested.
For a moment, he grimaced, and I opened my mouth to dismiss my own words. "That would help, yes," he said, looking to Maggie over my shoulder. "Not when it's raining."
"'Course not," she said carelessly, hurrying over to a window.
He turned away, the hand on my left shoulder sliding down and taking hold of my own hand. His was warm and large, heavy as an anchor. "You've been busy," he said bracingly.
I hesitated, wetting my lips, ducking my head as we turned in a slow circle down the flight of stairs.
"It's good," he said, not waiting for my answer. "I've been out, checking on the flock and cattle. Too much has been left untouched since my mother's passing. How are you with numbers?"
My head reeled at the way his speech seemed to turn from one subject to the next.
"I've kept household books in good order," I said, not mentioning Malcolm's name.
"I expected as much," he said, flashing me a wry smile over his shoulder. I caught myself before my slippered foot missed a step. "Careful, every sixth is shorter. It's meant to be defensive, but I think it causes more injuries to those of us in the keep than any who might try and invade it."
You are a little too handsome for your own good, I thought. Or at least for my own good.
But attraction made the prospect of the rut easier to face.
In fact... I ducked my head to hide my blush.
I could look forward to the rut. Malcolm was right that I'd enjoyed myself in bed with him.
Heartbreak had soured the memories, but sometimes, I craved faceless company to help me revisit those moments safely.
I'd lain awake plenty of nights on my own, daydreaming of some unknown lover, imagining what it might be like to lie with someone new, just for the fun of it, for the closeness of the moment.
For the sensations without the emotions.
"There should be money to spend where you need it," Torion continued. "But I've no doubt we'll have some reckoning to take stock of."
"I've put Maggie in charge of the maids for now," I said.
"The old woman? She ought to manage. She knows the keep well enough, certainly."
I glanced over my shoulder, but there was no sign of Maggie following us. I hoped she hadn't helped herself to working on the old alpha's suite too much. It would need to be done, but I knew how it felt to want to hold onto a parent after their passing.
"She might not be up to the physical work for much longer. We should...think of what we can do for her," I said, wondering if I would've stepped beyond my place here so soon.
Torion stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to me, not smiling, but somehow expressing warmth all the same. I shied from his open stare.
"Good. There are cottages on the keep estate. Many need repair. I'll speak to the steward and the groundskeeper so we're ready." His fingers squeezed around mine. "I'm lucky you came to me for help, Brigid."
My voice caught in my throat, no answer ready, and Torion released me.
"You keep the staff busy in here. I'll keep seeing to the estate. We'll eat dinner together. The books are in my father's office," he said in a rush, heading for the stairs down to the main hall.
I wiped the heat of his touch on my makeshift apron and turned in the direction of the office, my chin held high and eyes refusing to look back.