by Lydia Dare
“I have animal dung on my face?” she asked, her voice hitching a little. A piece of Wes’ heart broke along with her voice. Dear God, what he done to her?
“Lean over the basin,” he directed, hating himself for ever having put her in this situation.
Maddie followed his orders, and Wes slowly dumped one of the buckets of water over her head. Wes soaped a cloth and gently began to wash the brown mess from her face. The skin beneath was slightly abraded from the harshness of the dung. “I’m sorry, Maddie,” he said softly. “Just let me take care of everything.”
A lone tear ran down her cheek. He lathered soap in her hair and rinsed it away with some more water from the bucket. As Wes washed the mud from her neck, he sluiced her with water again and appraised the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder. Good God, simply by claiming her, he’d have to mar her once again.
“Is it coming off?” she asked, forsaking all her dignity in the pursuit of cleanliness.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
She breathed a sigh of relief, and Wes wished he felt the same relief.
“All right,” he began, “you can step into the tub now.” She wasn’t pristine, but she was mostly clean. The bathwater and soap would take care of the rest.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Wes guided her back to the tub and held her hand as she stepped inside. She sank into the water and stared at him with pitiful green eyes. His heart could barely take any more. He’d done this to her, to his perfect Lady Madeline. He was so far beneath her that he may as well have been horse dung himself. He wasn’t worthy of her. Wasn’t worthy at all. He hadn’t taken care of her. Not well enough. Not nearly well enough.
“I have done a poor job of caring for you so far,” Wes admitted.
“It has been a rough few days,” she agreed.
That was generous of her. She hadn’t eaten well in days. He’d had to borrow money from Dash’s coachman, for crying out loud, simply to feed her. He’d even taken money from Dovenby to clothe her. He wasn’t deserving. Not at all. He had no right to even consider claiming her.
“It might be a rough few years,” Wes muttered to himself, but after all she’d been through, she deserved the entire truth. Then he inhaled deeply and said, “Do you know that a Lycan marks his mate?”
Her eyes grew wide at hearing this. “What does that mean?”
“When a Lycan claims a mate, he takes her into the woods with him on the night of the full moon. And when he’s inside her, and their pleasure is at its greatest, he bites her shoulder. He marks her as his very own.”
Maddie raised a hand to her shoulder, as though protecting the area. “That seems a little barbaric,” she said, her mouth hanging open wide.
Was it? To Wes it seemed the most natural instinct in the world. He didn’t want to know the answer to his next question, but he had to ask it. He drew in a deep breath. “Would you be proud to wear my mark? For people to see my mark on your skin and know you’re mine? Or would you detest it?”
“You would scar me?”
“In a sense,” he said. He couldn’t explain. He’d never done it. He had no idea what it was like, but he’d like nothing more in the world than to claim Madeline, to claim all of her heart, body, and soul.
“I suppose I could cover it up when we go out in public. With some powder. Or a high-necked dress.”
Wes’ heart nearly stopped. “You’d be ashamed of it.”
“Well, I don’t have any scars,” she began to explain.
Of course, she didn’t. She’d been coddled and protected her whole life. She’d never even been dirty. Not until he’d forced her to run off with him. They were from two completely different worlds. “Your skin is perfect,” he agreed.
“If it’s something you have to do, I suppose I could tolerate it.” Her voice was small and unsure.
She could tolerate it. Wes’ heart hurt a bit at the admission. He supposed he didn’t have to claim her. She could be his wife in every other sense. Not every Lycan marriage was sealed with the bond. He could be happy in knowing that she chose to marry him when she didn’t have to. That could be enough. It would have to be. He wouldn’t hurt her any more than he already had.
“Wes,” she said softly. “Are you all right? You look upset.”
He was upset, but it wasn’t her fault. Not really. She wasn’t from his world. She couldn’t understand. Wes shook his head and tried to smile through his pain. “Just relieved to have found you.”
She smiled at that. “I promise not to run off again. I should never have done so in the first place.”
“Run off?” he echoed, staggering a bit toward the four-poster to catch his balance. “Are you saying you really did run off of your own accord?”
Maddie must have seen the surprise in his eyes because she sat up straight in the tub. “I just wanted to go to my father.”
If her bathwater had turned to pudding, Wes would have been less surprised. “Your father?” He raked a hand through his still damp hair. “Why?”
“Well, there was Lucy…” Tears slid down Maddie’s cheeks. “And, well, I thought it was the thing to do at the time, and I thought Lord Dovenby was honorable enough to take me.”
She really had tried to escape him. Wes’ vision began to blur just a bit. He hadn’t believed Dovenby’s account, but apparently the jackass been telling the truth. She wanted to go back to her father. Wes shouldn’t be surprised. Look at what he’d put her through in the past sennight.
He made a split-second decision. One that would break his heart, but he truly had no choice. Besides, his heart was already broken and she wasn’t meant for him. She wasn’t meant to be his Lycan mate. Or even his friend. They were too different. It would never work.
“I’ll take you back to your father, Madeline,” he said. She wasn’t even Maddie to him anymore. She was Lady Madeline.
“I don’t know that I want that anymore.” Water sloshed over the side of the tub as she started to stand.
“Are you all clean now?” He recognized the emotion in his own voice and strove to harden his heart. But it was impossible.
She looked down at her pink skin. “I think I am.”
“I plan to keep you that way.”
“Weston!” Her voice raised an octave. “What are you saying?”
“You’re not made for a life like mine.” He shook his head and couldn’t figure out how on earth he’d ever thought this would work out. “You’re clean, pure, and rich. And I’m dirty, scarred, and poor. I can never be what you need.”
“How do you know what I n-need?” she asked, tripping over her words.
“No one knows about our marriage, Madeline,” Wes said, hearing the resignation in his own voice. “The blacksmith who married us can be bought.” He shook his head. “And I’ll return you to your father. I’m certain he’ll be delighted to take care of the details. Tell him to send me a bill for any fees he incurs. I’ll pay them.”
“Wes, stop,” she said, stepping out of the tub and walking toward him. Her eyes flashed with anger. Of course, she was angry; he’d abducted her, rolled her in mud, nearly starved her, made her sleep in vermin-infested hovels, and he’d just finished washing dung from her body. Any lady would be angry. “Is this because of the biting thing? You can do it if you need to.”
No, that was only a very small part of it. Wes leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Gray and I will escort you home. Back to your father. And you can go on with your life.” He turned and crossed the floor in only a few strides. Then he stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it and inhaled deeply, needing a full breath almost as much as he needed her.
“You are my husband!” she cried.
But he heard her through the closed door. He also heard her curse. God, how he’d lowered her. Now she was cursing, for Christ’s sake.
“I don’t have any clothes to follow you, Weston Hadley,” she called through t
he door. Wes closed his eyes tightly. He inhaled, then breathed out slowly. Of course she didn’t. This was what she’d been reduced to. Love won’t keep my daughter in slippers. A truer statement had never been said.
Wes descended the stairs and found his way to one of Dovenby’s parlors, where his brother was keeping a close eye on the jackass.
“Is she all right?” Gray asked, rising from his seat on the settee.
“She will be,” Wes muttered, “just as soon as she reaches Castle Hythe.”
“Castle Hythe?” Gray frowned at him. “All day long you’ve pushed me through this godforsaken country because you love the lady. And now you’re going to take her to the castle?”
Wes gestured toward Dovenby with his chin. “He was right. It’s what she wants. It’s what I should have done from the beginning.”
“Oh, I’m certain she would have been quite happy to keep your wolfish secret in the beginning.” Gray scoffed. “You didn’t have a choice.”
“But I did.” Wes strode over to Dovenby’s sideboard and poured himself a glass of whisky from a beveled decanter. “I’m sure you don’t mind,” he said to their unintentional host.
“By all means, help yourself,” Dovenby grumbled.
“Wes,” Gray began, crossing the floor to stand before his brother, “you have loved Madeline Hayburn since the day you first laid eyes on her.”
Wes agreed with a nod. “And I should have loved her enough not to thrust myself into her life.” He swallowed half the whisky in his glass and wished the burn in his throat could wipe away his memory of Madeline.
“You should have loved her enough not to dally with Lucy Reed then,” Dovenby muttered sourly.
Wes’ head shot up and he stared at the earl. “I didn’t dally with Lucy Reed.”
Dovenby glared at Wes. “Try telling that to a fellow who doesn’t have excellent smell, Hadley. Your scent was all over Lucy this morning.”
Wes snorted at the ridiculousness of that statement. Clearly Dovenby had somehow lost whatever sense he’d once possessed. “Were you always this big of an idiot?”
“Denying it?” Dovenby taunted. “Don’t bother. Your wife saw you with her own eyes.”
Either the man was mad or an awful liar. Wes turned his attention back to his brother. “Hythe told me he could pay the blacksmith to lose the marriage lines. With her dowry, she could still find a decent man even without her innocence.”
“I cannot believe you’re talking this way.” Gray gaped at him. “For years I have heard you sing her praises, wax poetic about her perfect beauty and graceful countenance. I’ll be the first to admit I never thought you had a chance with the chit, but she is your wife.”
“I can’t ruin what’s left of her life, Grayson!” Wes bellowed. “She deserves better than this, and I’ll see she gets it.”
Dovenby snorted from his spot on the settee. “You almost convinced me of your sincerity. Almost.”
“Shut your muzzle,” Gray growled. “No one asked you.”
Wes looked back at the earl, who was scowling at him. They had never been friends. They’d never even liked each other. But there was more hatred than normal in his old foe’s light eyes. “Do you have something for Madeline to wear? Something one of your paramours might have left behind?”
Dovenby leaned back in his seat and kicked his long legs out in front of him. “I’m sure Whyte can find you something suitable.”
Twenty-Five
Maddie’s thoughts were all jumbled. She wasn’t certain what she wanted anymore. When Weston had come for her, she’d never been happier. Well, she would have been happy not to be drenched and covered in what she thought was mud and missing a slipper, but her heart had expanded in her chest when she had heard him call out for her. In that moment, she’d thought for certain he truly did care about her. He’d searched for her all day, followed her across Scotland, and by some miracle he’d actually found her. But now it had been days and he still wouldn’t even look at her.
She wanted to bite her own tongue off. She’d just been so shocked when he said he wanted to bite her that she hadn’t known how to respond. Somehow she must have said the worst possible thing because he hadn’t made eye contact with her since.
He’d made certain a tray was sent up to her the night they spent at Strathwell. And he’d made certain clean clothes and a maid were waiting for her when she woke the next morning. And at each stop along their journey south, he’d made certain she had a soft bed, a warm bath, and enough food to feed an army. But he’d avoided her at every turn, choosing to ride alongside the carriage instead of in it with her, arranging for separate rooms at night, and taking his meals alone. She tried to pry information out of Grayson Hadley whenever she had the opportunity to speak to her brother-in-law, but he just frowned at her and promised they’d see her safely to her father.
But she wasn’t sure she wanted to be returned to her father. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay with Weston, either. Not if he couldn’t look at her anymore. And that realization nearly broke her heart. She thought about all the times she’d spied him watching from afar, how he’d seemed frightening and dangerous and made her uneasy with his attention. Now she’d sell every slipper she possessed if he’d just look at her once more. If she could just look into his eyes, perhaps she’d find the answer to the questions plaguing her.
The Kent countryside passed outside the coach window, and Maddie pulled the curtain back to watch the landscape. Weston, proud and regal atop a black mare riding a few feet away, caught her attention, and she willed him to look in her direction, but to no avail. If he would just look at her…
In the distance, Castle Hythe loomed on the horizon, and a pit formed in Maddie’s stomach. It wouldn’t be much longer before she was home, if the castle was still her home; and she still didn’t have a clue what she would do when she got there or what she even wanted. Maddie sat back against the squabs and closed her eyes, hoping the answers that had evaded her thus far would finally become clear.
***
Wes watched Castle Hythe grow larger with each step his mare took. He couldn’t get there fast enough. If he could return Madeline to her father, he could start trying to forget her, he could try to get on with his life. The life he was meant to lead without her.
“Last chance,” Gray said as he rode up beside Wes. “We can ride on to Eynsford Park instead.”
But that wouldn’t be best for Madeline. Wes shook his head. “We’ve been over this.”
“And I still think you’re making a mistake.”
“You always think I’m making a mistake.”
Gray agreed with a nod. “But I think this one is bigger than most. She doesn’t know why you’re doing this, you know. Every night she asks me about you. She asks what she did to make you stop loving her.”
“I’ll never stop loving her and that will be my cross to bear, but that doesn’t mean she should have to bear it, too.”
“What if she wants to bear it? What if she loves you?” Gray asked.
“She doesn’t. She got caught up in my foolishness the night of the moonful, and I can’t ruin her life because of that.”
“Weston,” his brother dropped his voice, “the girl cares about you. I can see it in her eyes when she talks about you.”
“She’s confused,” Wes replied. “It’s not the same thing. Once she’s with her father, she’ll be able to forget this adventure ever happened, and she’ll be better off than she would be with me.”
“As long as you’re certain.” Gray frowned, but he said nothing else as they crossed onto Hythe property.
After riding in silence the rest of the way to the castle, Wes was relieved when he was finally able to pull back on his reins and dismount. Just a few more minutes and this would all be over. The coach stopped a few feet away and Wes allowed Renshaw to open the door for Madeline. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her gaze up at her father’s home. Worry marred her brow, but she needn’t be
concerned. Hythe would forgive her and welcome her back into his fold. “Gray,” he motioned to Madeline with his head. “Will you escort her please?”
His brother agreed with a slight nod and Wes strode to the castle’s main entrance. Hythe’s butler opened the door and stared at Wes with wide eyes.
“Please tell His Grace that Weston Hadley begs an audience.”
The butler frowned as he looked past Wes to where Gray and Madeline stood behind him on the path. “Of course, sir. Right this way.” The old man led Wes to the first parlor they came to, then turned his attention to Madeline. “Might I inform Her Grace that you’ve come for a visit, my lady? She has missed you terribly, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“Thank you, Bailey. Is she in her private parlor?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Then I’ll find Grandmamma myself.” As the butler left them, Madeline cleared her throat. “Weston, don’t you think we should talk before you do this?”
Hearing his name on her lips tore at Wes’ heart. “Go visit with the duchess, Madeline,” was all he trusted himself to say without letting emotion crack his voice.
She stood on the threshold for what felt like an eternity, just staring at him; but Wes couldn’t return the look. He’d lose all his resolve if he gazed into the pretty green depths of her eyes, and for the first time in his life, he needed to put someone else first. Madeline wasn’t from his world. She didn’t fit in his world. She would be better off with one of her kind.
“Very well,” she muttered before disappearing down the corridor.
Gray clapped a hand to Wes’ back. “You’re sure you’re doing the right thing?”
“If you ask me that again, I’ll drive my fist into your jaw.”
Gray sighed. “A simple ‘I’m sure’ will suffice, Wes.”
“Weston Hadley!” Robert Hayburn’s angry voice preceded him into the parlor. “I will see you dead!” His old friend appeared on the threshold, his face red and his jaw clenched. “How dare you show your face here?”
“Rob,” Wes said in greeting. “I am here to see your father, not you.”