Wolf Who Loved Me

by Lydia Dare

  Mary smiled at the pair of them, her yellowed teeth flashing in the dimmed light. “Well, come on wit’ ya.” She started for a set of steps in the back of the taproom. “We don’t get many overnight visitors.”

  “You don’t say,” Madeline mumbled.

  Mary turned back to face them, her gaze traveling up and down Madeline’s form. “By gum! What happened to ya, dearie?”

  “Fell into a bit of mud.” Madeline echoed Wes’ previous words to the innkeeper. “I was hoping I could have a bath.”

  The old woman nodded her head. “I should say so. I don’t think I’ve seen a woman in worse shape.”

  Madeline squeaked in horror, but Mary paid her no heed and began climbing the stairs. “We’ll have a tub brought up for ya and some hot water.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Wes replied, saving Madeline from having to respond.

  A moment later in the tiny corridor, the woman turned a key into a lock and pushed open a bedroom door. She quickly lit a small lamp in the corner of the room, bathing the small quarters in a warm glow.

  A mouse ran across the floorboard.

  Madeline screamed and hurled herself at Wes. He’d never been fond of mice until that very moment, and he scooped his bride-to-be up in his arms.

  She buried her face against his shoulder. “You said you wouldn’t let any vermin near me.”

  “My dear, I will hold you all night if you’d like.”

  “A bit squeamish, is she?” Mary clucked with disapproval as she slid back into the hallway. “One wouldn’t think it with the way she looks.” Madeline dug her face deeper into the curve of his neck. As the woman stepped out the door, she said, “I’d worry more about the vermin out there than the vermin in here.” She tipped her head toward the taproom.

  “Thank you,” Wes replied. He shut the door behind the woman with his foot. Then he crossed the floor and sat on the edge of a small bed, careful not to jostle Madeline too much in the process for fear she’d jump right out of his arms. He found that he liked holding her, particularly when she was feeling so compliant. “It’s all right, my dear. I’ve got you.”

  She pulled back from him, staring into his eyes. “She said she’d never seen a woman look worse than me.”

  Wes winced. What could he say to that?

  “I must look even more frightful than I thought. Did you see her? Have you taken a look around this hovel? And she’s never seen anyone look worse than me?”

  “I’m certain she was exaggerating, Madeline.”

  “This is the worst day of my entire life. I want you to know that.”

  He didn’t doubt it for a moment. Rolled in mud and abducted, with no choice but to marry him. “I am sorry. I will make it up to you.” Someday, somehow. If it took the rest of his life.

  She arched one golden eyebrow in disbelief.

  Wes couldn’t help but laugh. She was adorable, all covered in dirt, leaves, and an occasional twig, yet still as imperious as she’d always been. And she was all his, or she would be very soon. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  Something flashed in her eyes, but West couldn’t quite name the emotion. “If you tell me even the sun pales in comparison to my beauty, I will cast up my accounts right here. I might even do it on your shoes.”

  “Do that and I might have to go barefoot the whole way to Gretna. I’m not certain we could afford another pair.” Then Wes scoffed. “I would wager that I am more skilled at flirtation than Dewsbury. Thank you very much.” Her brow rose in disbelief once more, which only made Wes scowl at her. “You needn’t look so surprised. A number of females have found me to be quite charming, I’ll have you know.”

  “And did you kiss each of them?” she asked tartly before a delightful pink stained her cheeks.

  What he wouldn’t give to kiss her right now. “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember?” She blinked at him.

  How was he to remember anything, anyone but her, as she sat on his lap, so close that he could feel her heat through his clothing? Wes shook his head, his eyes focused on her delectable, tempting mouth. He swallowed. “Do you want me to kiss you again?”

  Her lips parted on a breath. “I—”

  A knock sounded on the door. Wes set her down beside him as the door swung open. The innkeeper frowned at the pair of them, sitting on the bed. “Mary said ya wanted a bath.”

  “Yes, please.” Madeline scrambled off the bed.

  The innkeeper eyed Wes warily. “Ya want ta help me haul the tub in here, sir?”

  “Of course.” Wes pushed to his feet and followed the old man into the hallway. Then he hoisted the tin tub over his shoulder, without any assistance, and placed it in the middle of the bedroom floor. Thankfully, the tub appeared clean. It might be the only clean thing in the entire establishment, in fact. Wes nodded to the innkeeper. “Thank you, sir. Now if we might have some hot water.”

  “The lad’s on his way up with a bucket right now.”

  ***

  Maddie kept a keen eye on the floor, watching for any more mice, as the last bucket of water splashed into the tin bathtub. Now if only all the men in the room would disperse, she could finally wash the dirt and grime from her hair and skin. She didn’t think she could completely relax in the room, not having seen that first mouse—but she also didn’t think anything would bother her once she was submerged in the water.

  “Thank you, for everything.” Weston gestured the innkeeper and a shabby-looking young man from the room. Then he shut the door after them, locked it, and leaned against it as though he alone could bar them from re-entry.

  Certainly he didn’t think he was staying while she bathed. Maddie waved him toward the door with her hand. “You may go, Weston.”

  “And leave you to your own devices?” He shook his head. “I think I’ll just lie on the bed, if that’s all right with you.”

  “It’s not all right with me,” she scoffed. Yet all he did was reposition a wobbly screen between the bed and the area where the tub lay.

  “There. Now I won’t be able to see a thing. More’s the pity.” Weston sighed.

  “That won’t be nearly enough,” she complained.

  “We’ll be in Scotland tomorrow, my dear. We’ll be married tomorrow. There is no need to stand on ceremony. Take your bath, please. I’ve heard about nothing else the past hour.”

  That was perfectly fine for him to say. He didn’t look as though he should be planted in a garden somewhere. “It wouldn’t be proper for you to stay.”

  He winked at her. “Haven’t you heard, Madeline dear, Hadley men are far from proper? Now turn around. I can’t imagine you can get yourself out of that dress.”

  Maddie felt heat creep up her cheeks. “You think to undress me, Mr. Hadley? Did you bump your head when I wasn’t looking?” She turned her back on him. “You can send a maid to help me.”

  Maddie heard the bed creak as he sat down on it. “We can’t afford a maid,” he informed her as she stepped behind the screen.

  “How much does a maid cost?” she called out. Honestly, she had no idea. She’d always had a maid of her own to travel with her.

  “More than we have,” he said as she saw his stocking feet lift up on the end of the bed.

  “I can do it myself.” She’d never done it before, but she felt certain she could manage to get herself out of her clothes.

  “Sure, you can,” he called back to her. Did he chuckle?

  Yet, after a few moments, Maddie realized he was right. There was no way she would be able to get herself out of her dress. She sighed heavily and ground her teeth. What was she to do now?

  “Are you ready to ask for help yet?” he called from the other side of the screen.

  “As soon as you tell me how you became so adept at removing women’s clothing,” she called back.

  “You haven’t tried my services yet. I could be terrible at it,” he replied. Somehow, she doubted that. With the way that he’d kissed her, she doubted he was b
ad at anything when it related to women’s clothing.

  “Just how many women have availed themselves of your services, Mr. Hadley?” she sniped as she glared around the end of the screen at him. He lay on the bed with his feet raised, his hands beneath his head. He looked so handsome that she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at him.

  “Call me Weston and I might tell you,” he called back without even looking at her.

  Maddie reached behind her back until her arms ached from the stretch. There was no way she could unbutton the blasted gown on her own. “Weston,” she called sweetly. He was beside her in seconds. He looked down at her, his eyes warm and inviting. “How did you move that quickly?” she gasped.

  “Don’t you know that all good dogs come when called?” he said with a wolfish grin.

  She elbowed him in the side. “Stop teasing me. Really, how did you move so fast?”

  He shrugged and took her shoulder in his palm, spinning her slowly to face away from him. “It’s a Lycan trait,” he said quietly by her ear. He brushed her hair to lie over one shoulder slowly as though he relished the feel of the strands moving between his fingertips. She didn’t understand how that could possibly be the case, as dirty as she was, but he didn’t seem to care. “There are quite a few traits we have that you should probably know about.”

  Her voice quivered as he unfastened her dress at the highest point on her back. “Such as?” she breathed.

  Hot breath enveloped the skin he uncovered as he worked his way down the row of fastenings. Then as he moved down, he replaced his breath with his lips. Maddie could barely put two words together, but she forced herself to concentrate despite his quiet ministrations and the soft hum that reverberated from his lips, sending chills across her skin. He lifted his lips only briefly. “We can hear really well.”

  He unfastened another button. His hand swept across the naked skin of her back in a gentle stroke that nearly knocked her knees from beneath her. Yet he almost seemed to sense it and his arm encircled her waist. “What else?” she breathed.

  “We heal quickly.” His lips trailed from the inside of her neck down to the vee of her back, across the chemise she still wore, his lips whispering across the silk like wind after a rain, drowsy and wet.

  “I remember that one,” she gasped. “From when I kicked you.”

  “I do, too,” he said, his lips more firmly attached to her shoulder as he shoved her gown down her arm with one hand and held her up with the other. Thank God, he held her up. Otherwise, she’d have dissolved into a puddle on the floor. His arm was anchored around her directly below her breasts, like a band of strength she never wanted to let her go.

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t kiss me again until I ask for it,” she said softly, her eyes closing at the sheer pleasure his lips wrought. Wes very gently scraped at her shoulder with his teeth.

  “If I were kissing you,” he breathed across the shell of her ear, “it would be because you wanted it. And because you informed me that you wanted it in no uncertain terms. That is correct.”

  “And you do not consider what you’re doing to be kissing me?”

  “No,” he said, and then he sucked very lightly at the place where her neck met her shoulder.

  Maddie’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Did you want me to kiss you, Madeline?” he asked.

  “I’m not certain,” she gasped out as his hand rose to stroke the line beneath her breasts. What was he doing to her?

  “When do you think you might have a good idea, my dear? Of whether or not I should kiss you?”

  A knock pounded fiercely on the door. “More water, sir,” a man’s voice called out.

  Weston let her go as quickly as he’d appeared. She nearly fell to the ground when he turned her loose, her limbs were so weak. There was a thumping everywhere that was unlike anything else she’d ever experienced. He crossed to the door and took the buckets from the man, then poked his head back around the corner of the screen. “Do you still need my help?”

  Did she? She needed him to resume his ministrations. To go back to touching her. But she couldn’t say that. It wouldn’t be proper, not at all. So she squeaked out, “I think I can take it from here.”

  “You’re certain you can get your dress off?”

  “Maybe?” she said with a glance down and a frown.

  Weston crossed the room in three strides. He shoved her gown down over her hips, tapped the outside of her leg to get her to step out of the gown, and kicked it to the side.

  He turned as though he was going to walk away. “Weston,” she said hesitantly.

  “Yes?” he barked.

  She didn’t want him to go. She really didn’t. “Would you consider helping me wash my hair?”

  He very unceremoniously picked her up, set her on her feet in the tub, and then crossed to the nearest bucket. She squealed when he dumped the water over her head. Then he set the bucket to the side, crossed his arms and glared at her. She must have looked like an idiot there in her dripping wet chemise and her hair a stringy mess across her face.

  She blew water from her lips as she gasped. Maddie cracked one eye to look at him, but all she saw was his retreating back as he slipped out the door. Then she heard the lock slide into place. He’d dumped water over her head. And then locked her in this awful room.

  Eleven

  Wes stared at the full tankard of whisky before him, still furious. More at himself than with her. Though he was plenty annoyed with her, too. Touching her made him want her more than ever. To taste her. To claim her. He was only one night past the full moon and struggled for control with the beast inside himself.

  But she was in complete control, wasn’t she? How lowering to realize he was the only one affected by the other, damned fool that he was. I think I can take it from here. Her voice echoed in his ears. If that blasted oaf hadn’t come back upstairs with a bucket of water when he had and interrupted Wes’ seduction… Now that he thought about it, Wes was beyond furious with that particular fellow, too. Damn his eyes.

  When he’d dumped the water over her head, it had poured down her body like a silky ribbon, leaving a trail he wanted to lick from her body. Her chemise had revealed all her secrets with its dampness and the way it clung to her body. He’d wanted to explore her secrets. He still wanted to explore them. He should have dumped the bucket of water over his own head. Wes huffed in frustration. He never should have treated her that way. He would kick himself if he were able.

  “I suppose I’m paying for that drink.” Renshaw’s voice from beside Wes brought him out of his murderous reverie.

  Wes glared at his brother’s coachman. “Shouldn’t you be asleep somewhere?”

  The driver smiled slowly at him. “Do you know why I agreed to this foolhardy journey, Mr. Hadley?”

  “Because you’re afraid of Cait?”

  Renshaw furrowed his brow as though he considered that possibility. Then he shook his head. “I have wondered about her ladyship a time or two over the years. There’s something a bit mystical about her on occasion, but I’ve never been afraid of her. Lord Eynsford, on the other hand…”

  Wes nodded in understanding. Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of Dash.

  “…I’ve been in his employ for more than a decade. Long enough to notice certain things, if you know what I mean. And I feel certain you do.”

  Meaning Renshaw either knew what he was or suspected something equally frightening. “Well, I hardly think Eynsford would sack you for not helping me kidnap the lady abovestairs.”

  The coachman took a swig from his own tankard. “I traveled this same road with the two of them years ago, you know?”

  Not really. Wes shrugged.

  “At least your lady looks at you.”

  But Madeline wasn’t his lady, was she? Just because he desired her, had longed for her since the day he first met her, didn’t mean she felt the same way—and she might never do so. He couldn’t force her to want him
in return. But it mattered little since tomorrow he’d marry her because he didn’t have a choice. Neither of them did. Then he’d pine for his own wife ’til the end of time. “Don’t you mean she glares at me?”

  “She hasn’t poisoned you, so you’ve already had a better journey than Lord Eynsford had in his pursuit of the then Miss Macleod.”

  Poisoned? Wes gave his full attention to the coachman. “I beg your pardon?”

  Renshaw chuckled. “Her ladyship led him on a merry chase. Left him unconscious for two days in her attempt to escape him.”

  How did Wes not know this? Because it made Dash look like a fool, most likely. “Interesting as this is, Renshaw, I hardly see how this has any bearing on my situation.”

  “It doesn’t,” the coachman agreed as he took another drink. “I suppose I just thought you might like to know things could be worse.”

  Things were bad enough as they were. “You mean she could try to poison me?”

  The man shrugged. “After you’ve seen such a thing once, it tends to stick in your mind.”

  “Something to look forward to then.” Though Wes couldn’t imagine Madeline poisoning anyone. She might get her hands dirty. He shook the uncharitable thought away. It wasn’t her fault she’d been raised in the lap of luxury. Her feminine, delicate nature was one of the things that called out to him. He adored that about her. Usually.

  “Oh, I think your lady seems more resigned to her fate than Lady Eynsford was.” Then he shuddered. “His lordship could barely speak after he woke up two mornings later and found her gone.”

  Perhaps the coachman really was afraid of Cait, despite his protestations otherwise. Wes might be a little scared of her himself now. Apparently he’d been more than lucky to escape with his tail intact after crashing his phaeton with Lia on his lap. The thought of his adorable niece brought a smile to Wes’ face. No one could be happier than Dash with his wife and children. “How did he do it, Renshaw? If her ladyship went to the lengths of poisoning Eynsford, what did he do to change her mind? She adores him now.”

  The coachman yawned. “Some of us take a little longer to accept our fate than others. Like I said, your lady seems resigned. That’s a good sign.”