“No. Whoever owns this stretch to the northwest of Rothdale has never occupied it or farmed on it as far as I know.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, thinking of the dog’s owner.
“Actually, no. I haven’t been up this way for several years. Hell, Ian Shaw might have purchased it for all I know.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Or were you going to court your Shaw neighbor in order to join your land to hers?”
“She’s a pretty girl.”
Brooke waited, but apparently he wasn’t going to say more, so she pointedly asked, “Do you love her?”
“I barely know her. It would merely have been a useful match to expand Rothdale and settle a couple of disputes.”
“Over land?”
“Ten years ago Ian Shaw promised to shoot any Wolfe on his land. I promised to have him thrown in prison if he even tried. But the animosity between our families didn’t start over land. Our ancestors five generations back dueled. They used swords back then. My ancestor lost a hand in that fight, which should have ended it, but didn’t. Then our great-great-aunts had a notorious physical brawl, which caused a scandal that lasted decades. Those are the two main clashes that I know of. There could have been others since the animosity apparently started long before that, around the same time that the infamous Wolfe curse began. As the story goes, the Shaws reviled and then shunned my ancestor Cornelius Wolfe for flaunting his lowborn mistress in front of them. Cornelius was a hedonist who cared only for his own whims and pleasures, the proverbial black sheep of the Wolfe family.”
She shook her head at him. “And you actually think Shaw would have let you court his daughter with all that bad history between your families?”
“Why not?” Dominic shrugged. “It’s exactly that—ancient bad history. I’m confident Shaw would quit fretting over our border if his daughter were to become mistress of Rothdale. Besides, the man strikes me as simpleminded.”
“Are you sure the daughter isn’t simpleminded, too?”
“I doubt I would have cared.”
What a sad thing for him to say. “Do you really aspire so low?”
“What else is there?”
“Happiness, love, children.”
“That sounds like what you might aspire to.”
“But not you?”
“Love is fleeting, as is happiness. I would have got around to having some children, though. I just wasn’t in a hurry for them.”
“Cynical—at the least, not very optimistic, are you? But happiness and love are possible. Whether they last is entirely up to you. Surely you could agree with that?”
He snorted. “That both require work?”
“Not so much work as a little effort. Or maybe nothing a’tall except acceptance. Sometimes you have to believe you can attain something to attain it.”
He raised a single brow. “A philosopher, too? Aren’t you full of surprises.”
She wasn’t put off by his derisive tone. “As for you not caring whether your wife is simpleminded or not, I highly doubt you’d want that trait passed down to your children, so that statement is false. You would care.”
“I’m not getting a chance to find out, am I?”
She stiffened. The subject had just turned on them, and this was not the place to get into that argument again, when she couldn’t move without touching him, when she felt him against her knees, his legs bent enough to touch her entire right flank and hip. She wouldn’t even be able to get out of here without crawling over him.
Wisely, she didn’t rise to the bait. She opened the sack of blankets, took out two more, and handed him one. He folded his to use as a pillow and put his head on it. He still had to keep his knees bent, or his feet would have been out in the rain.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “It will be morning soon enough. And if the ghosts wake you, ignore them.”
She stared. “What ghosts?”
“Some of these old castle and guard-tower ruins are reputed to be haunted. I never believed it m’self, but you never know.”
“Is this one reputed to be haunted?”
“I don’t know. But in any case, ghosts are harmless, so no screaming. I don’t wake well to screaming.”
She rolled her eyes. If he hadn’t added that, she might have thought he was serious. She couldn’t guess what he was up to tonight, teasing, telling obvious whoppers, almost as if he’d grown comfortable with her—even as he still tried to push her away.
But she did not want to lie down next to him, even though he’d closed his eyes, letting her know he was done talking. And she didn’t think she could sleep sitting up, much as she would like to. No longer the least bit cold, a little too warm in fact with the thought of sleeping beside him, she draped the other blanket over her anyway and lay down carefully on her side, facing away from him.
She had to bend her knees, too, because his legs were blocking her from doing anything else. But she didn’t have enough room on her side to bend her legs without leaving her backside pressed against him. She was mortified. She hoped he was asleep and didn’t notice that she was touching him again and wriggling around as she tried to get comfortable and couldn’t!
“If you’re not still in the next second, we’re not going to be sleeping tonight.”
She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but she immediately stopped moving. Her last thought before she drifted off was that it was pleasant to feel his warmth all around her as the wind howled and the rain continued to pour down outside their ancient shelter.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BROOKE AWOKE TO FIND herself twisted all around Dominic, but he was likewise twisted around her. How the deuce had they slept like this?
Brooke realized she must have turned toward him in her sleep because her head was tucked between his arm and his chest. One of his legs was stretched out with his foot outside their cubbyhole, but it had stopped raining. His other leg was bent between hers. She was sure that her leg on which his was resting was quite numb. But she was hesitant to move and find out because she was going to be utterly mortified if he woke and found her positioned this way—cuddled up to him as if she wanted to be sleeping this close to him.
“You slept through the noise.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as if that might stop the color from shooting up her cheeks. “What noise?” she squeaked, thinking of the ghosts he’d mentioned.
“The horses bred during the night.”
Her eyes flared. “They did?!”
He leaned up on his elbow, which made her head slide down to his forearm but allowed him to look down at her. “You’re not displeased?”
“On the contrary. I intend to own my own horse farm someday. This will be a good start.”
“Who says you get to keep the foal? I charge five hundred pounds to stud Royal.”
“Since I didn’t contract for that, and it’s your fault for not hobbling your stud for the night, you can forgo that charge.”
“Is that so?” He ran the back of a finger slowly along her cheek. “But husbands and wives find other ways to negotiate.”
“We’re not—” Married yet got lost under his mouth.
She didn’t try to turn her face away, not with her future horse farm apparently at stake. Then she stopped thinking about that altogether.
The taste of him was intoxicating. She parted her lips, letting in his tongue. Her hand curled around his neck under his queue, gently caressing him. His moved down her neck to her chest and hovered over one of her breasts. He merely slid his palm over the tip, making her nipple peak and sending tingling sensations all the way down to her toes. Only then did his fingers close around her breast and squeeze gently.
She might have gasped, his hand felt so nice there. She might have asked him not to stop. But, in any case, his kisses deepened and turned more passionate. His knee rose up between her legs until it pressed against the apex of her thighs. She did gasp this time but it was lost under his mouth. The pleasurable sensation he
’d just evoked stayed with her though, and she felt the strongest urge to rub her body against his. Thrilled and overwhelmed as his tongue thrust in and out of her mouth and his hand caressed her breasts, she felt urges that made no sense to her clambering through her body. Yet they were so confined in this narrow space with no room to maneuver, no room to get at what she wanted. She was trapped with him leaning over her, but he could actually . . .
Suddenly the kissing stopped.
“No, as much as you might want me to, I’m not going to make love to you. If I do, you’ll never leave Rothdale.”
It took her a moment to realize that he was boasting about his sexual prowess. He’d even smiled when he said it! She raised a brow. “You think you’re that good in bed?”
“In bed, so I’ve been told. In this decidedly primitive place?” He shrugged, but still said, “Probably.”
She felt like laughing or hitting him with something. Was he serious or just teasing her again? The smile suggested the latter, and she thought again that he must be feeling more comfortable with her, might even be starting to like her a little. But it was a brief thought. Considering everything said and done, she had to doubt it. Then she gasped. Had he just accused her of lusting after him?
“What makes you think I want—?”
He put his finger to her lips to silence her. “There’s no point in protesting when it’s in your eyes, in your soft touch. But if you think that will magically make me love you, you’re wrong.”
He sat up, apparently ready to leave.
Angry that such amazing kissing could end like this, she said, “You’re not going to blame me for what just happened.”
“I don’t. I blame your horse. It’s been a long time since I listened to horses breeding. It’s quite primal.”
He gazed into her eyes when he said that in such a way that she was a bit entranced by him. The feral gleam she sometimes saw in his eyes wasn’t dangerous now, it was quite passionate. For a moment, she thought he desired her. But then she dismissed that thought, too.
He smiled again, though this time it seemed mocking when he added, “Obviously I’m not going to mind having you in my bed, but I give you fair warning, you’ll never be trusted out of it. You’re not going to find love or happiness here, Brooke Whitworth. Children, possibly more than you want, but nothing else. You still have time to flee.”
Yes, of course she did. At least, he thought she did. Maybe she should tell him about her father’s threat to consign her to a lunatic asylum. Or maybe she should poison Dominic as her brother wanted. She was definitely in a mood to poison him right now.
She stood up as he went out to saddle the horses. She stuffed the blankets back in the empty sack, then grabbed the other. She paused though and emptied the sack of food for the white dog in case it was still around or came back to the ruins after they left. She wasn’t hungry. She hoped Dominic was.
She’d already seen that the sun was shining, but it felt wonderful to step out into it. What a difference the sun made. The landscape had looked so daunting last night. Now it looked fresh and beautiful, although a few big puddles were in the courtyard. She looked around, but she didn’t see the white dog anywhere, though Wolf was running around sniffing everywhere.
“I’m glad I found you.”
Did she really just hear that? With Dominic’s back to her while he tightened cinches on the saddle, she couldn’t be sure. It implied something quite different from what he’d said inside the cubbyhole.
“Why?” she said breathlessly.
“Because your demise on the moors would have gotten the Prince exactly what he wants—a reason to strip me of all tangibles and toss me in prison or hang me.”
What an unromantic subject to raise! She should have known better than to attribute meanings to his words that couldn’t possibly be true.
But as to what he’d actually meant, she said, “I doubt that. The Prince currently stands on the moral high ground and is being supported for trying to save lives. He wouldn’t accuse you and imprison you for something you didn’t do.”
Dominic laughed derisively. “Royals through the ages resort to any means—”
“And by the by, why didn’t you give up looking for me last night? You must have ridden for hours in that rain.”
“I did—and was tempted to.”
That didn’t exactly answer her question, but he was holding out his hand to help her up on her horse. She walked toward him but ignored his offer, able to get on Rebel herself. It just wouldn’t be very ladylike, but nothing about this situation was!
Putting her foot in the stirrup, she persisted, “So why didn’t—you?” She ended in a gasp when he put his hands on her buttocks and shoved her the rest of the way into the saddle.
“Self-preservation, as I’ve just explained.” He walked back to tie the supplies to his saddle.
When they were both mounted and just beyond the ruins, she glanced back, wondering if the beautiful white dog would reveal itself now so it could watch them leave. Wondering again about where the dog lived, she asked Dominic, “Does Ian Shaw breed dogs?”
“No.
“You’re sure?”
“I made sure when I found Wolf.”
So the dog must indeed be lost. She supposed she could come this way again sometime when rain wasn’t imminent, to try to help it find its way home. It was the least she could do after the dog had helped her find shelter from the storm.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“DON’T YOU ever scare me like that again,” Alfreda cried as she ran toward Brooke, who was standing at the entrance to the stable.
“I’m fine. I had some unusual help. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“At least Lord Wolfe found you. I’m inclined to think more kindly of him now.”
Brooke snorted. “Don’t. The only reason he went to look for me was because he was afraid the Prince would hang him if I died on the moors.”
Wolf had followed her out of the stable as if he were still tracking her. But this was the first time he’d gotten close to her since he and Dominic had found her, and she glanced down to see him sniffing her shoes once again and whining. Really?
She tsked. “You need to make up your mind, Wolf, whether we’re going to be friends or not. At least stop being so wishy-washy about it.” Glancing at Alfreda again, Brooke sighed. “The other wolf is still determined to push me out the door.”
“But are you still determined to change his mind about you?”
“I’m running out of ways to do that. Not one thank-you have we gotten for helping with his wound, though he did acknowledge that he’s better because of it. Even so, he doesn’t trust my motives. It’s almost as if he overheard that last conversation I had with my brother.”
“What conversation?”
Brooke looked over her shoulder and saw that Dominic had come up behind them. She felt like groaning but realized he probably hadn’t heard that much of what she’d been saying. “It was nothing. My brother was being his usual nasty self—sort of like you,” she added, and marched ahead, pulling Alfreda with her.
Thinking of a hot bath and carrots, Brooke passed through the kitchen to order hot water and grab a carrot to take upstairs for the next time she saw the household pet. She supposed she should check on Dominic’s wound before she got too comfortable in her tub. If he was going to go to his room. He might be going to someone else’s room. He seemed quite healthy—thanks to her. If he was favoring his wounded leg at all, she hadn’t noticed.
She washed her face, hands, and arms and quickly changed clothes, but one question was on her mind that she needed to ask before she did anything else. “Did she leave?”
“The ex-mistress? At dawn,” Alfreda replied.
“Ex?”
“According to the staff.”
A bit too friendly for exes, Brooke huffed to herself, but when she put on a new pair of shoes, Alfreda protested that Brooke wasn’t waiting for the bathwater.
“I’m just going to make sure the wolf didn’t make his injury worse by rescuing me.”
“Definitely more kindly—”
“Stop.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “I could have survived the night and found my own way home this morning.”
“Intentions speak for themselves. He made sure you got home safely.”
And might have injured himself doing it, so Brooke wasn’t going to argue about it. Alfreda didn’t need to know what else had happened in that ruined-castle cubbyhole. If she were more optimistic, she might think Dominic’s kisses were a promising sign, a step toward breaking down his defenses—and animosity. But not after the excuse he’d used! Yet one thing she’d been trying not to think about was seeing him unclothed in his bed again and touching him in an intimate way, even if only to treat his wound, after they’d practically slept in each other’s arms last night and he’d given her those ardent kisses this morning. . . .
She flushed, thinking of it anyway, and turned away so Alfreda wouldn’t notice. Seeing the carrot on the bed, she put it in her pocket.
Alfreda noticed that. “Your breakfast will arrive with the bathwater. Are you too hungry to wait?”
“This is for his dog.”
The maid snorted. “That mutt will laugh at you. Dogs only like meat.”
Brooke made a face as she left the room. Likely an accurate statement, but she hoped not. She’d feel bad if she’d left the white dog a carrot it didn’t want. The sack she’d emptied for it hadn’t held much meat. Maybe she could take some meat to the dog the next time she rode out. She owed it something for helping her last night.
A different footman opened Dominic’s door when she knocked, but he was on his way out and closed it behind her. As usual, Dominic’s eyes were on her before she glanced his way. He was sitting on the edge of his bed unbuttoning his shirt. He’d already put on those altered trousers again, though it didn’t look as if he’d unwrapped the wound yet to check it.
“Don’t worry”—she moved toward his bed—“I know you’ve already seen quite enough of me for one day.” And night. “I just want to check—”
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