9. Exploring

During the restless night that followed, it occurred to Will that there was a good chance he might happen upon Hannibal in the course of his daily walk, particularly if he lingered in the grove. The gods, however, seemed to have taken it upon themselves to spite him, as it proceeded to rain incessantly for two days together.

Meanwhile, no invitation to Fell Park was forthcoming. Both Brian and Mr Franklyn fell to moping about the parsonage, casting a gloom upon the whole party that affected even Beverly’s usually cheerful temperament.

On the third day, the sun finally burst through sodden clouds, warming the damp earth and gilding the fields with a glittering sheen. Perversely, now that he was at liberty to seek Hannibal out – or at the very least, put himself in Hannibal’s path – Will found himself procrastinating. He took more time than usual in dressing and lingered over breakfast, actively encouraging Mr Franklyn to engage him in conversation and quizzing him over his latest composition – an inordinately long, unwieldy pamphlet on the joys of matrimony. Will’s show of interest delighted Mr Franklyn and provoked all manner of curious reactions in Beverly, from delicate blushes to almost girlish smiles which she sought to hide, but which Will caught with surprise.

At length, Mr Franklyn called for the table to be cleared, that the day’s activities might begin.

‘I believe that I shall rewrite my sermon to include extracts from my pamphlet as you were so entertained by it, my dear cousin. Indeed, I am of a mind to encourage my fellow clergymen to do the same.’

Will promptly sent out a silent apology to the church-going population of Kent.

‘I shall take a basket to the Madchens’,’ declared Beverly, patting her husband’s shoulder as she passed his chair. ‘A hind leg of pork and some fruit. Georgia tells me that her mother has been unwell. And you, Will?’ There was the teasing glance again. ‘I suppose you will be anxious to resume your walks.’

It was now Will’s turn to blush, though he managed a spirited enough retort. ‘Go and do your good turn, Beverly. It will keep you out of mischief!’

In truth, the ease with which Hannibal had breached Will’s carefully cultivated defences was terrifying. Forts constructed over years to protect himself from judgement, censure, rejection – all crumbled to dust beneath Hannibal’s gaze, Hannibal’s touch, Hannibal’s voice. And each time Will rebuilt them, the walls were lower, weaker.

As a student he had read all the cautionary tales – Tristan and Iseult, Achilles and Patroclus, Romeo and Juliet – Alphas and Omegas wholly unsuited, yet drawn together irresistibly to their mutual doom. Soulmates, it was said, would find each other no matter the odds, and despite any obstacles which fate might spitefully strew in their path. Yet Will had always dismissed as pure fancy the idea that they truly existed. ‘Life is not a fairy tale,’ was his scornful response whenever Abigail or Fredricka sighed over whichever officer had most lately stolen their hearts. ‘You will meet another just like them soon enough.’

But was it likely that he would meet with another Hannibal Lecter? Or ever feel for another such overwhelming attraction? An attraction so strong, it had overridden the principles on which he had always prided himself? Matthew Brown’s story of injustice had appalled him – it appalled him still – yet far from shunning the man responsible, Will was gravitating closer to him each time they met.

You know it. You know it and yet you do it anyway.

With Beverly dispatched to the Madchens’, and Mr Franklyn closeted in his study to rework his sermon, Will had finally no more reason to delay his walk. There were, of course, all manner of different routes that he could take, many of which would circumvent the grotto altogether. But when he recalled Hannibal’s leavetaking of three days since – the rough note in his voice and the ardency of his lingering gaze – Will felt a pang of longing, of need.

To see and be seen. To touch and kiss and... be together, whatever that might mean.

***

In Hannibal’s experience, while some Omegas were particularly pleasing in form, others in wit, and a not inconsiderable number blessed with both, all were possessed of an infuriating air of entitlement that had kept him safe for years in his disdain, and secure in the certainty that never would he fall prey to his Alphan desires.

Will Graham had taken that certainty and chipped away at it with every twitch of his satirical brow, every shrug of his slender shoulders, every flicker of amusement in his eyes of vivid blue.

Never in his life had Hannibal met with a less entitled Omega, or one who was more self-effacing. Will seemed entirely unaware of his power to fascinate and beguile, and quite careless in his adherence to social etiquette. He was stubborn, judgemental, sometimes shockingly rude. And completely, utterly irresistible.

The last two days without him had been interminably long.

‘Good morning, cousin! Off on your morning jaunt? Care for some company?’

Cursing Anthony’s sharp hearing, Hannibal came to an abrupt halt halfway across the entrance hall.

‘Did not you promise to take our aunt out in her new phaeton if the weather was clement?’

Anthony, emerging from the dining parlour with napkin in hand as he dabbed at his lips, looked quickly over his shoulder and then back at Hannibal with a grimace.

‘Show some mercy, Hannibal. I am up to my ears in household tips and poultry breeding advice and the best remedies for curing colds.’

For a moment Hannibal wavered, until the recollection of Anthony’s shameless flirting with a certain curly-haired Omega hardened his heart.

‘Then I would suggest a long excursion. Our aunt, if you recall, dislikes the practice of talking in an open carriage for fear of insect inhalation.’

‘Anthony, come back this instant! What are you thinking of, abandoning me in such a way?’

Lady Bedelia’s querulous tones rang through the vestibule. Anthony grimaced.

‘She has Francis and five servants in there,’ he muttered.

Hannibal flashed a shark’s smile at his woebegone cousin.

‘But it is your company she seeks. I would step to it, Colonel, before she sends out a search party.’

The day was fine, the muddied paths already hardening as Hannibal strode through the deserted garden. And when cultivated lawns and box hedges gave way to uneven ground and wooded slopes, anticipation curled and tightened in his stomach.

Be there, Will. Please, be there.

The scent of fresh pine sweetened the air, drifting down from spiked evergreens that peacocked finery amidst their still-bare deciduous cousins. It was as if Will’s very essence was beckoning him, and Hannibal’s pace quickened.

***

The hilltop shelter did indeed offer excellent views of the grove. The lake’s glassy surface reflected with mirror sharpness the surrounding trees and copious flora. Elbows resting on the wooden rail, Will gazed out across a vista of green and yellow, enjoying the silence. But as the crunch of boots on gravel broke the tranquillity, his nerves snapped tight and he straightened, eyes drawn to the path which curved away into the trees.

He knew at once the figure that appeared, for never could Will mistake such commanding grace. Heart thumping, he opened his mouth to hail the Alpha; but when in that same instant Hannibal stopped and lifted his eyes to the shelter, the words died in Will’s throat. He watched, spellbound, as without a word or sign of greeting, Hannibal crossed the grove to ascend the twisting woodland path.

Paralysed by uncommon shyness, Will gripped the balcony rail and stared out unseeingly. He listened to Hannibal’s sure, steady tread. On earth. On stone. On wood. And then…

A tiny sound escaped him as he was enfolded in possessive arms.

‘Hello, Will.’

‘Hello, Hannibal.’

The arms tightened around him, and Will leaned back into solid warmth.

‘Two days it has been. A full two days, Will.’

‘Yes.’ He exhaled softly.

‘I have been driven to distraction thinking about you. About this.’

A kiss was pressed against his hair. Will closed his eyes.

‘Yes.’

‘About tasting you. About you tasting me.’

And when gentle lips brushed his cheek, Will could bear it no longer. He twisted around, seeking blindly for sweet relief, and felt Hannibal smile against him.

‘Such a welcome.’

He made a sound of frustration. ‘Do not tease. Do not you dare.’ And he set his lips in a stubborn line.

Until, in the next instant, a hot tongue teased them apart.

How willingly did Will then open to him, welcoming the languid strokes and returning them with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Bodies pressed together from chest to thigh, they stumbled backwards until Hannibal’s legs hit the barrier of the circular stone platform. Will pushed him down onto it and sank immediately into his lap, thighs astride, body trembling with desire as they exchanged ever more fervent kisses. Hannibal’s hands, which had been clutching Will’s waist, dropped to caress his bottom, and on a mischievous impulse Will nipped Hannibal’s lower lip in warning. Jerking back, Hannibal regarded him with mock-severity.

‘Now that, Mr Graham, was rude.’

‘Then perhaps the next time,’ retorted Will primly, ‘you will think twice before putting your hands in places they have not been invited.’

Hannibal raised his brows. ‘Perhaps you should draw a map for me. I would not wish to stray into forbidden territory.’

Will’s own hands, resting on Hannibal’s shoulders, crept up to tug playfully at his hair.

‘Perhaps you should learn to navigate with greater care.’

‘Hm.’

The next moment, Will found his hands captured and drawn down gently but firmly to twine with Hannibal’s at their sides.

‘Before we go on, I believe we should negotiate terms on an equal footing.’ His eyes glinted. ‘I had forgotten the sharpness of your tongue.’

Utterly unrepentant, Will grinned and leaned forward to whisper against Hannibal’s lips, ‘If I be waspish, best beware my sting.’

He dipped his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth and it was at once reclaimed by the growling Alpha, who sucked without restraint until Will felt heat rising throughout his entire body. He pressed closer, only to whine in frustration as Hannibal pulled back.

‘My remedy is then to pluck it out.’

Will blinked in confusion. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Your sting,’ purred Hannibal, unloosing one hand to trail it suggestively across Will’s lower back. ‘Does not it lie here below?’

‘Careful,’ warned Will with a measure of breathlessness, growing harder by the instant yet unwilling to relinquish the field. ‘If provoked, I may decide to deliver more than a scratch.’

Hannibal chuckled, the rich sound a delight to Will’s ears. ‘Do I have your word on that?’

‘Most assuredly.’

Will fastened his lips on Hannibal’s again, free hand sliding up to rest on the Alpha’s chest, feeling the rapid pulsing of his heartbeat. He was now fiercely aroused, slick seeping between his thighs in a manner which he had not experienced except during his heats. The sensation was both exhilarating and frightening, but not for the world would he stop. He pushed his hips down, seeking friction against the bulge which pulled taut the fabric of Hannibal’s breeches, and at once Hannibal inhaled sharply, breaking off the kiss. Will blushed in mortification.

‘I am sorry.’

But as he attempted to wriggle free, Hannibal held him fast.

‘Will, look at me.’

For an instant, Will resisted. But when he again lifted his eyes to Hannibal’s, he was met only with warmth and desire.

'Do not be sorry. Never that. But if –‘

At his hesitation, Will squeezed Hannibal’s fingers. ‘If?’

Hannibal released him, gaze serious. ‘If you wish to go no further, then we should stop now.’

Slowly, Will leaned in until their lips were almost touching.

‘And if I do wish to go further?’

‘Then you must tell me so plainly, for I will not take what you are not willing to give freely.’ Hannibal’s eyes burned into his. ‘Tell me that you want this, Will.'

It was half-demand, half-question, and Will studied him with a smile that belied the pounding of his heart. Finally, he reached up to rest a tentative palm against Hannibal's cheek.

'I do. I do want this.' And then, more boldly, ‘I want you.'

Hannibal closed his eyes briefly and when he reopened them, he too was smiling.

'Will Graham, you are the most confounding creature I have ever met.' He hardly recognised his own voice - rough, unsteady, almost a growl.

'Funny. I was about to say the same of you.'

'Really?' Hannibal brushed the curls from Will's brow with a tender sweep of his thumb. 'Then perhaps we deserve each other.'

This time, when Will kissed him, Hannibal met him with unrestrained passion. His hands roamed possessively over the slender body in his lap, pushing the coat from Will’s shoulders and dropping it carelessly to the floor. His own swiftly followed, and when with eager fingers he set about removing Will’s neckcloth, he felt the Omega tremble.

How exquisite you are.

Lightly he stroked the line of Will’s throat, one hand curving around the back of his head to cradle its weight as Will arched back with a sigh, baring the pulse that fluttered just above his mating gland. Hannibal pressed his lips to it, humming in pleasure. Will’s scent was intoxicating, all-enveloping.

To his delight, Will appeared just as eager to explore and taste. His slender fingers made quick work of the knot around Hannibal’s neck, a huff of satisfaction leaving him as he slipped free the length of cotton. Their waistcoats were discarded next, but when Will took hold of the hem of his own shirt, Hannibal stayed him with a gentle touch.

‘I would not have you risk a chill.’

‘But I want to feel your hands on me.’

Will’s directness, coupled with the slumberous desire in his dark-fringed eyes, threatened Hannibal’s tightly-reined control. Grasping Will’s chin, he bestowed a lingering kiss on lips swollen from his attentions.

‘You shall,’ he promised, stroking Will’s cheek with reverent fingers. ‘Ah, Will, there is not an inch of you that I do not intend to know, in time.’

How much time they would have, he did not care to consider. So much was against them, not least his own conscience – Mischa, poor Mischa, had experienced too much of gossip and disdain already in her young life. How selfish he would be in risking more, if only by association.

Yet whenever he thought of leaving – of conjuring an excuse that would see him safely back in London or home again at Ravenstag – he balked, both at the notion of employing such pretence and at the idea of never again laying eyes on Will.

Will, beautiful Will, who drew the breath from Hannibal’s lungs as he pulled his shirt free of its confinement and grasped the hand that cupped his cheek. Guiding it beneath the hem, he placed it against the flat plane of his stomach.

‘Then you may begin now.’

Hannibal stilled, words of protest dying in his throat as he registered the sensation of smooth, warm skin beneath his palm. Slowly he spread his fingers, and smiled at Will’s involuntary gasp.

‘Is not that to your liking? Then perhaps this...’

Moving upward, he stroked over narrow waist and ribcage, learning the dips and curves of muscle and bone. When his thumb brushed a nipple, he felt Will tense.

‘Will?’

‘Do not – do not stop.’

Curious, Hannibal swept the pad of his thumb across the raised nub. It was larger than he had expected, full and puckered. A moan escaped Will, and Hannibal repeated the caress, wanting to hear that sound again. He was not disappointed. Hunger rising, he felt for the other nipple and hummed in satisfaction as he found it. Will clutched his arm, eyes half-closed, cheeks aglow.

‘They are so sensitive,’ breathed Hannibal, Will’s arousal feeding the fire within himself. Fascinated, he rubbed again, eliciting another moan from the boy squirming in his lap. ‘So beautifully sensitive.’

‘Are – are not yours?’ panted Will, tongue tip peeking temptingly from between half-parted lips, eyes now fully closed, an expression of bliss on his flushed face.

‘Not like this, I think.’

Hannibal leaned forward and kissed him, sucking that delicious tongue into his own mouth. All the time, he continued massaging the hard nubs, alternating between them.

Will rolled his hips and, unable to help himself, Hannibal thrust upward to meet him, groaning as their swollen lengths pressed together. Breathing shallow, he rested his forehead against Will’s.

‘I want to see them.’

‘I want your mouth on them.’

The words were out before Will could prevent them. Hannibal’s fingers, playing with his nipples, were sending him into a frenzy of desire. He could feel more warm, slick moisture between his thighs, and his arousal was now almost painful.

He half expected protestation, but the only sound Hannibal made was a deep sigh of pleasure as he withdrew his hand from beneath Will’s shirt and, bunching up the hem in both fists, pushed it up to bare Will’s chest to the cool morning air.

Will raised his arms, allowing the shirt to be pulled off over his head. There followed a moment’s silence.

‘I did not realise,’ murmured Hannibal, heated gaze a caress in itself. ‘Like little rosebuds.’

To Will’s delight and consternation, Hannibal leaned forward and bestowed a soft kiss atop each taut peak.

‘You did not know that Omegan males produce milk for their offspring?’

‘Knowing is one thing; touching and seeing is another.’

Hannibal’s caresses were making Will breathless again, and when the Alpha took one stiff point into his mouth and sucked, Will gasped. The sight of that sleek head bent as if in supplication was almost unbearably erotic. Will gripped Hannibal’s nape as gentle teeth grazed the other nipple, a hot tongue laving it afterwards. Back and forth between them he licked and suckled, until all Will could do was cling to him, helpless in the wake of a raging tide of arousal which demanded a satisfaction he had never before sought. When finally Hannibal pulled back, Will looked down at himself and moaned at the sight of tips standing out rosy and gleaming wet from Hannibal’s attentions. Tugging the Alpha’s head up, Will claimed his mouth in a series of frantic kisses.

‘You have never - been - with an Omega?’

‘Not yet.’

Hannibal grasped his hips, pulling Will tight against him.

‘I am glad.’

And he was. Fiercely glad. They smiled into each other’s eyes, Will’s heart skipping a beat at the intimacy of the moment. He tightened his arms around Hannibal’s neck.

‘Tell me what you want, Will.’

Another slow, deep kiss communicated his need more eloquently than words. When again they parted, Hannibal whispered, breath ghosting across his lips, ‘Are you sure?’

The hands on his hips slid around to cup his bottom, and Will hissed as their lengths pressed once more together.

‘Oh, yes. Please, Hannibal. I cannot –‘

‘Hush, hush, Will.’

Never had Will come undone at the hands of another, yet the idea of stopping – of denying his body what it was screaming out for – was unthinkable. Burying his face in Hannibal’s neck, Will breathed deeply, grounding himself in the earthy scent which both soothed and stimulated. And against the strong column of the Alpha’s throat, he choked out two words.

‘Take me.’

He felt the shudder that passed through Hannibal’s body, and the next few minutes were a pulsing blur of hungry kisses and unsteady hands. Will raised himself to his knees, shoving down his breeches and drawers, allowing Hannibal room to do the same. Propriety was forgotten, misgivings set aside. They reached for each other at the same time, and Will cried out as long fingers encircled his length and stroked – once, twice – before dipping beneath to explore and tease.

‘Please, please.’

A kiss feathered his temple. ‘Have you ever –‘

‘No, but –‘

‘Will.’ Hannibal’s voice was low and urgent. ‘Are you certain?’

Will looked steadily into eyes burning with dark fire. Aching, unafraid, he pressed a kiss to the corner of Hannibal's mouth. ‘Yes.’ Another, lingering, full on the lips. ‘Yes.’

They rocked together, kisses deepening once more, mimicking with tongues what their bodies craved. With every undulation, Will’s length rubbed against Hannibal’s abdomen, and Hannibal’s hardness brushed a moist path across Will’s virgin entrance.

Acutely aware of Will’s innocence, and determined to make his first time pleasurable, Hannibal focused on the cues the Omega was giving him. Whenever Will tensed, Hannibal eased back. When he keened and clung, Hannibal encouraged him with lips and hands to relax and enjoy.

‘Will it hurt?’ The nuzzle against his cheek was sweat-damp despite the morning chill.

Turning his head, Hannibal pressed tender lips to Will’s. ‘Only a little. And only once. We were designed for this, Will.’

We were designed for each other.

‘Yes.’ The word was sighed out against his mouth.

Kissing Will hard, he delved with seeking, trembling fingers for the core of the Omega’s pleasure. The rim, beautifully swollen, leaked copious amounts of slick that eased the way as Hannibal began a slow, gentle stretching. And its fragrance, sweet and fresh, caused Hannibal’s knot to swell; but on a series of deep breaths, he willed it to subside. Knotting was for mating, breeding, bonding, and this was – not that. This was pleasure, wondrous and pure. Pleasure that he intended to share with Will as often as the Omega would allow. But it could be no more.

Refusing to dwell on such sobering thoughts, Hannibal claimed Will’s mouth in another searing kiss as he took hold of his own rigid sex and gently eased the weeping head inside.

‘Ha-annibal.’

Will’s grip on Hannibal’s shoulders tightened, and immediately Hannibal stopped.

‘Never fear, sweet boy. We shall go slowly.’

‘It is too much. Too tight.’

The Omega’s voice was thick with tears, and Hannibal’s heart clenched.

‘Wait, Will. For just a moment. Wait.’

Reaching between them, Hannibal stroked Will’s softening length with one hand as he caressed the stretched, sensitive rim with the thumb of the other. Soon, Will’s gasps of pain had turned to moans of pleasure, fingers moving to snare in Hannibal’s hair, hips beginning to shift restlessly.

‘Better?’

‘Mm.’

Hannibal pushed in a little further, groaning as he was engulfed by tight, wet heat. He grasped Will’s hips, guiding him as the boy began hesitantly to move.

‘How does it feel? Tell me, Will.’

‘Full and – ah – good. It feels good.’

‘See, Will? We fit. We fit perfectly.’

‘Y-yes.’

Such pleasure Hannibal had never known. Surrounded by the sweetness of Will’s fragrance, lithe body twined around him, buried deep within his pulsing core, he felt a fierce need hitherto unawoken: bite claim mate take. Again his knot began to fill, the mating response deeply instinctual. And for the first time in his life, Hannibal was powerless to prevent it.

Will must have felt the swelling against his bottom, for he asked in a tremulous voice, ‘Is that –‘

‘It is alright, Will.’

Jaw tightening, Hannibal fought the almost unbearable urge to plunge his knot deep within the young Omega, locking them together, making them one.

Making him mine.

Such thoughts were surely beneath him, vestiges of a savage, long-dead ancestry.

‘It is alright.’

He could hear the strain in his own voice; and the next moment his chin was grasped and tilted up, gaze snared by eyes darkened to rich meridian.

‘It is glorious,’ declared Will fiercely. ‘You are glorious.’

They kissed deeply, writhing together, pulled inexorably towards the same exquisite climax. Hannibal gasped, cheek pressed to Will’s shoulder, shaken by blinding pleasure. His hands tightened on Will’s slender hips, holding him in place as he exalted in the high, sweet mewls that issued from the Omega.

In the aftermath of his release, Will could only cling to Hannibal, shaking, eyes wide as he registered the alien sensation of liquid warmth spilling within him. Fingers stroked up his spine, the touch comforting as he sought to calm his breathing.

‘Is it – is it always like that?’

Hannibal lifted his head.

‘It can certainly be most pleasant.’

‘Oh.’ Jealousy coloured Will’s tone and he flushed, dropping his gaze. The next moment, a warm palm cradled his cheek.

‘But like that? No, Will. At least, I have never found it so.’

The tenderness of Hannibal’s smile pulled another helpless sound from Will, and he tipped forward to bestow one final lingering kiss. Slowly then he rose to his knees, extricating himself from Hannibal with care, drawing sighs from them both nonetheless.

They dressed in silence. It was not uncomfortable, but Will felt momentarily at a loss when finally they stood before each other, clothing a little rumpled but restored on the whole to a state of respectability. What did one say in circumstances such as these? ‘Thank you’ seemed hardly appropriate.

He was saved from his dithering by Hannibal, who caught his hand and pressed it.

‘I must return to the house – I promised to meet with the estate manager at noon. But perhaps I shall see you tonight at dinner?’

‘I cannot say.’

Will returned the light pressure before releasing Hannibal’s hand with reluctance and following him out of the shelter.

‘It may be that Lady Bedelia has tired of so much company and wishes to have her nephews to herself.’

‘Do not worry on that account.’ Hannibal offered a wry smile as they negotiated the steep path downward. ‘I have never known my aunt to shirk company wherever she could find it. No, the sole reason for her silence these last two days has been the inclement weather. She would not have had you venture out in the rain.’

They reached the fork in the path and stopped, close but not touching as they faced each other.

‘How thoughtful of her,’ murmured Will, distracted by the boyish spill of hair across Hannibal’s forehead.

Impulsively, he reached up and smoothed it back into something resembling its usual pristine order.

‘There. Now you are presentable again.’

Hannibal stilled, an arrested expression on his face that caused Will’s heart to beat erratically.

‘Will, I –‘

But whatever he had been about to say, he appeared to think better of it, for he merely smiled and ruffled Will’s curls.

‘I would that I could say the same of you,’ he said lightly. ‘You may wish to use the servants’ entrance when you return to Fogmear.’

‘Certainly, although you have hardly helped matters.’

Pointedly, Will smoothed his hands over his hair in a futile effort to control it.

‘I regret nothing,’ declared Hannibal, amusement colouring his tone.

Their eyes met and his expression grew serious. Catching Will’s hand, he lifted it to his lips and bestowed a lingering kiss on the knuckles.

‘I regret nothing,’ he repeated softly.

‘Nor I,’ replied Will, voice catching a little as he added, ‘I never shall regret this.’

Another exchange of smiles, a final press of hands and they parted, Hannibal striding one way and Will the other.

***

The predicted invitation to dine at Fell Park arrived at Fogmear Parsonage a little after one o’clock. Will fell immediately into a state of happy agitation, which luckily no one except Beverly appeared to notice. And perhaps she had an inkling that something momentous had occurred, for she limited herself to a sole teasing remark as they decamped to the morning room after luncheon.

‘I did not realise, Will, that you were so fond of Lady Bedelia’s company.’

‘My dearest,’ responded Mr Franklyn with an expansive chuckle, ‘who could not be?’

An hour later, the tinkling of the doorbell signalled a visitor. Will looked up in surprise – and some peturbation – from his perusal of Alana’s latest letter, and Beverly instantly cast him a sly glance which he endeavoured to ignore as they rose to receive the unknown caller. Contrarily, his first reaction upon the entrance of Colonel Dimmond was one of disappointment. But the charming colonel had come armed with a proposition which quickly lifted Will’s spirits.

‘I thought that you might like to accompany me on a walk,’ he said genially, the ever-present twinkle in his blue eyes as he looked at Will. ‘It is my custom to tour the park every year, and we have a glorious afternoon for it.’

Trying his hardest not to think about how glorious the morning had been, Will gladly assented. A distraction was just what he required.

***

‘I hope that I did not take you away from anything important,’ commented the colonel, as they crossed the sun-warmed lawn and struck out towards the perimeter path.

‘Not at all. I was contemplating how I should reply to my sister’s letter.’ Sighing, Will shook his head. ‘She seems quite low in spirits.’

‘Might I ask the cause or would that be indelicate?’

Hands clasped behind his back, Will cast a sideways smile at his companion.

‘Not at all. I would welcome your advice. Without wishing to be indiscreet, I shall just say that I believe her affections to have been trifled with, and I am unsure how best to offer comfort.’

Colonel Dimmond glanced sympathetically at him. ‘I am sorry to hear it. Is she still in London? Perhaps she would be better off at home. The city can be a lonely place.’

‘You may be correct.’

Will bit his lip on a pang of guilt. He had, after all, encouraged Alana to leave with the Crawfords after Christmas – to place herself once more in Miss Verger’s sphere and thus leave herself open to further heartache.

The colonel shook his head. ‘It is difficult to offer advice where affairs of the heart are concerned. To speak truth, Hannibal is better at this sort of thing.’

‘Really?’ Will’s heart thudded at the mention of the man with whom, only hours earlier, he had been so intimately entwined. ‘You surprise me.’

‘Oh, Hannibal has far more astuteness – not to say forthrightness – than I, which tends to serve him well when called on for guidance.’ Cheerily, Colonel Dimmond added, ‘Last winter, for instance, when by all accounts it was his counsel which saved one of his closest friends from the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Pulling up short, mouth suddenly dry, Will stared at the colonel. ‘Which friend was this, may I ask?’

‘Miss Margot Verger. Ah.’ Smiling somewhat sheepishly, the officer spread his hands in a gesture of apology. ‘I see that you are shocked by my gossiping. I told you that I was not a fellow to be depended upon.’

‘What – what reasons did Hannibal give for his interference?’

Numb with shock, Will barely registered Colonel Dimmond’s words, or the Alpha’s speculative glance at his use of Hannibal’s given name.

‘I understand that there were some very strong objections against the lady.’

Strong objections against Alana? Against his beautiful, gentle, honourable sister? But then she was, after all, he thought with bitterness, guilty not only of being a mere Beta, but of being related to two uncles of middle class birth and occupation, and, of course, to himself – and what shame an illegitimate brother-in-law might bring to a family as illustrious as the Vergers. Still...

‘Who was he to judge?’ Voice low, Will turned away, blinking angrily to dispel the tears he could feel forming. Weak tears that he could ill afford to shed. ‘Who was he to determine in what manner Miss Verger was to be happy?’

‘You think his interference officious?’ Colonel Dimmond sounded uncomfortable.

‘I think it – predictable.’

Not trusting himself to speak more, Will walked on; and as the colonel fell into step beside him, an awkward silence descended between them which Will was too distraught to care about dispelling.

‘Perhaps we deserve each other.’ Liar.

With every step, he withdrew further into himself; and by the time they returned to the parsonage, he was shivering. Walking past the morning room, he made straight for the stairs, ignoring Beverly’s concerned call.

Soft smiles and softer kisses. Liar.

‘Mr Graham appears unwell,’ he heard Colonel Dimmond explain, ‘although,’ the officer added hastily, ‘I do not think it anything serious. Perhaps we walked too far. Allow him to rest and I am sure that he will be sufficiently recovered in time for Lady Bedelia’s dinner.’

I am sure that I shall not, thought Will viciously, closing his bedchamber door with exaggerated care before slumping back against it.

‘I regret nothing.’ Liar liar.

Why does betrayal taste so bitter?

Was I a distraction or an exception?

Why do I care?

And as silent tears began to fall, Will vowed that not until Hannibal had quitted the county would he again set foot inside Fell Park.