Imprisoned at Werewolf Keep (Werewolf Keep Trilogy) Read Free Page A

still not the done thing, except by the upstart Americans that were infiltrating the ton, but she didn’t care. This was her home, for the moment at least, and so she would eat and drink what she liked here without the critical eyes of the world on her.
    But , obviously, the eyes were on her, even here in her own home. Who was that odd little man, and what was the real purpose behind his visit?

CHAPTER TWO
     
     
    Lord Jasper Horton paused for a moment over the tome he was reading to look out at the winter scene beyond the window. There had been heavy snow this year and the moors were pristine white with it, even now. Set against the clear blue sky and winter sunshine, it was quite the most beautiful sight he’d seen in some time.
    In moments like this his life felt oddly satisfying. Certainly , it was not the life he would have chosen for himself, largely imprisoned in an ancient Keep on the desolate Yorkshire Moors, but in the last six months it had become less onerous. Now he could appreciate his studies in the warm library, while the world outside was white and cold. Now he could appreciate the friendships of his fellow in-mates and the companionship of his best friend, Byron Carstairs. Now he could look in the mirror and not be disgusted by the handsome, gentlemanly face that hid the monster beneath.
    If he still looked back at his old life with regret, it was only to be expected. His had been a fortunate life up until that fateful night. He was the eldest son of landed gentry, wealth and privilege his birth right. His golden good looks and athletic physique only added to his good fortune. With parents and siblings who loved and respected him, an intellect that few rivalled, and all the time he needed to indulge his unquenchable thirst for knowledge, every day had been a blessing.
    The n the worst had happened and he’d willingly embraced atonement, accepting the limits placed on him for his crime. Up until six months ago that kind of acceptance was all he had. But then Philomena Davenport had come into all their lives and brought with her a different perspective, a different way of seeing who and what they were. She was the light in their darkness, and because of her, he had found the courage to reunite with his family.
    It still felt wrong , somehow – their willingness to forgive him for what he’d become, to accept who or what he now was. But if they were willing to do that, then he had to be willing to forgive himself and accept that part of him that was so unacceptable.
    Or that was what he told himself. He still had a long way to go before he reached that point. But it was his goal. One day he would forgive himself for murdering his housekeeper …
    ‘Jas? Any luck?’ Byron asked, coming up to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder at the tightly scrawled notes on the page beside the tome.
    ‘I’m not sure alchemy is the answer. It all seems a bit too close to magic and witchcraft for my liking,’ Jas answered, turning from the scene out the window and focusing on his friend.
    Byron was happier these days. Since Philomena came into his life , he had become almost happy. Yes, his lot was still as heavy as it had always been. His role as their guardian, their keeper, was just as onerous as ever. But now with his bride beside him, he handled it with a lightness that had never been his before. Not in the last two and a half years that he’d known him, anyway.
    ‘Some would say that you are the stuff of magic and witchcraft,’ Byron countered with a grin.
    He grinned back, letting his mouth quirk up at the sides in self- deprecation. ‘I suppose they might. Like vampires and ghosts. I suppose one must put aside the prejudices of the intellectual mind and allow for all possibilities. But it does annoy me to read how a mixture of hemlock, mouse blood and a ground scorpion’s tail can cure blindness.’
    ‘Some physicians are still leeching bad humours from the body to cure disease s