Lydia Dare Wolf Bundle

by Lydia Dare

  He reached for her.

  She raised her hands to fend him off. “Don’t touch me, Simon.”

  He stepped back, surprised by her tone of voice. “This is really bothering you?”

  “As though you have to ask,” she said before she turned on her heel and left the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that the portrait of an old ancestor in front of a lake shook from its hanger and hit the floor with a bang. His Lily certainly knew how to leave a room.

  “Billings!” Simon called. The man appeared in the doorway. “Find Maberley, will you?”

  The butler nodded. Since this was the last cycle of the moon before Oliver was to be at Harrow, Simon had, indeed, been fortunate to make arrangements with Lieutenant Schofield. The man’s generosity with taking Oliver for a few days so he could become acquainted with young Leo Schofield would not be forgotten.

  In the morning, he and Oliver would leave for Surrey. Instead of traveling on to London, as he’d told Lily, Simon planned to return to Westfield land and go deep into the woods to a small crofter’s cottage that wasn’t used any more. And there he would wait until the moon began to wane. Until he was once again free to love her.

  He would wait there alone in sheer misery. He already missed her, and he wasn’t even gone yet. It would be torturous to be so close to her, yet so far away.

  Lily punched her needle through the fabric with much more force than was necessary, she knew. But she had to take out her frustration on something. Simon was out on estate business, and Oliver was in his chamber, sequestered with his Latin text, so the poor fabric she was stitching would have to substitute.

  Leaving. How could he possibly leave? They had been married less than a month, and he wanted to leave her already. And he wouldn’t even tell her what he was doing! Just like Daniel.

  She should at least be allowed to accompany him. She’d gotten quite used to having him around. She didn’t even know if she would be able to sleep without him wrapped around her, their legs tangled.

  Why, just the night before, he’d done things to her that she’d never dreamed possible. He’d even made her cry out so loudly that she worried the servants could hear. It had been sublime. But afterward he had turned from her with a guilty look on his face.

  Guilt?

  What in the world did he have to feel guilty about? He’d brought her supreme pleasure. Yet he acted as though she was a fragile piece of glass that might break at any moment.

  Billings caught her attention when he coughed quietly in the doorway.

  “Your Grace?”

  “Yes?” She looked up from her sewing and fixed him with a stare.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s apparently a problem in the kitchen and Cook insists on speaking with you.”

  “Do you know what she needs?”

  “She said you were the only one she would speak with, Your Grace.”

  “Oh, bother,” Lily groaned as she set her sewing in the basket at her feet and then went to find Cook to see what the matter was. How strange. What sort of problem did Cook need her for? And in the kitchens? Lily had never entered that room before.

  Lily stepped into the kitchen and was assaulted with the smell of freshly baked bread. She hadn’t realized she was hungry until she heard her stomach rumble. Did all kitchens smell this delightful?

  Concentrating on her work, Cook chopped carrots and onions, and only looked up as Lily approached her. “What seems to be the problem?” Lily asked, pasting a smile she didn’t feel across her face.

  Cook whispered, “His Grace asked me to prepare food for your retreat in the woods. But he told me not to tell anyone that you were leaving.”

  “Leaving? I’m not leaving,” Lily said. She reached to rub her temples, trying to chase away a headache that threatened.

  “You won’t be going into the woods with His Grace? The dowager always did,” she mumbled that last part to herself, though Lily heard it.

  “Into the woods? I have no idea what you’re referring to.” It was becoming more and more strange. Like a house of horrors, where nothing was as it seemed.

  “Oh, my,” the old woman said. “It seems as I have misspoken. I must have misunderstood.” Cook attempted a halfhearted laugh. “My ears aren’t what they used to be.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Lily said, quickly changing her tactics. “His Grace and I will be going away. I have a dreadful headache. Please forgive me.”

  Cook took a sigh of relief. “I figured you would. The late duke always took his duchess with him.”

  Why? Lily wanted to scream, but she held her tongue. She’d get more out of Cook if she maintained her composure. “Of course. What day did he say we would be leaving?”

  “After leaving the earl in Surrey, he thought he’d be back tomorrow night, Your Grace.”

  “Excellent.” Lily turned to leave.

  “Your Grace!” the woman called. “The basket?”

  “Oh, I trust your judgment implicitly,” Lily called back. She took the stairs at a run, anxious to have time to absorb all she’d just learned.

  Simon wasn’t going to London. He was going into the woods. Why in the world would he do that? And why had his father done the same thing? If she thought she’d get a straight answer out of Alice, she’d ask.

  Lily returned to the sitting room, where her sewing waited. But now, on the settee sat Oliver, who had his head buried in a book.

  “I do hope that’s Latin,” Lily remarked as she settled beside him.

  “O-of course it is, Aunt Lily,” he said. But then he moved to tuck the book between the cushions.

  Well, that was obviously not a Latin text. Though her mind was on more important matters than why Oliver would try to hide a book from her. She sat down to think.

  Simon appeared in the doorway. “Maberley, I’ll have a word with you in my study,” he said.

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Oliver seemed to be much more accepting of Simon’s authority now, and he followed him from the room like a faithful puppy.

  Lily picked up her sewing but realized she’d lost her thimble. She lifted the settee cushion to see if it had fallen in the crack. She heard a thud as Oliver’s book hit the floor.

  When Lily bent to pick it up, she turned it over in her hand. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the black leather cover. Embossed in gold, the title, Lycans: Legend and Lore, captured her attention. She turned to the first page, where a rendering of a lone wolf, his snout high in the air, called to the moon. A masculine scrawl marred the inner cover. It simply read: A Lycan cannot be embraced by another until he embraces the wildness within himself.

  Lycan?

  Oliver had tried to hide a book about wolves from her? Why in the world would he hide a fairy tale? Because he didn’t want her to know it wasn’t his Latin text? Lily turned to the first page.

  A folded piece of foolscap fell to the floor. Lily bent and picked it up, unfolding it and pressing the seams flat so she could take a closer look.

  A Lycan family tree? Lily scanned through the names. Surely that was the product of someone’s overactive imagination. Then she saw Westfield and stopped. Her finger hovered over the three names—Simon… Benjamin… William. Her name was listed along with Simon’s, with the date they were married. Lily sat down heavily on the settee. Her finger traced over to Daniel and Emma’s names, which also listed the date they were married and the date of their death. Below them, Oliver had been added. Was this Simon’s handwriting?

  Surely Simon wouldn’t have created a family tree, supposedly consisting of werewolf males, as the title suggested. Oliver was a bit too old for fairy tales. And Simon had never struck her as a fanciful sort.

  “Finally found it, did you?” Alice asked from the doorway.

  Lily jumped and quickly folded the family tree, tucking it back between the pages of the book.

  “Found what?” she attempted.

  Alice laughed. “You are terrible at evasion, dear girl.”

  “Al
ice.” Lily stopped and shook her head.

  Alice crossed the room to stroke the top of Lily’s hair. She picked up the book and pressed it into Lily’s hands. “Happy reading.”

  Alice had nearly jumped for joy when she’d seen Lily with one of Jonathan’s old books. If it had taken much longer for one of the men to make a mistake and leave one lying about, she would have been forced to plant one in Lily’s path. Or to knock her over the head with it, whichever came first.

  All the clues were there. Now Lily just needed time to piece them together.

  Alice poured a glass of sherry and watched as Lily went out the door that led to the garden. The girl was smart. Give her enough time, and she would figure it out.

  Simon interrupted her thoughts. “Have you seen Lily, Mother?”

  “Not for quite some time,” Alice lied smoothly. “I think she said she was going to the Hawthornes’. I’m not completely sure.”

  “She didn’t mention that she was leaving,” Simon said, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown.

  “She was in a bit of a foul mood, son. What did you do?”

  “Mother, why must you assume that I did something?”

  “Because I know you. And I know you’re thinking way too much with your head.”

  “Mother, I don’t have time for riddles,” he sighed.

  “Then let me spell it out for you, Simon.” He cringed as she stepped near. He should cringe. If she followed her instincts, she would do him bodily harm. Luckily, she had some restraint. “She loves you.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “And you love her,” Alice continued.

  “Of course I do.”

  “Prove it, Simon.”

  Forty-Three

  LILY WALKED SLOWLY DOWN THE GARDEN PATH, THE book tucked securely under her arm. It was a bit intimidating, knowing she might hold the key to the door Simon kept closed to her.

  She brushed a lock of hair from her face as she opened the book and began to read the inscription again. She traced her finger over the words, wondering who’d scrawled the note.

  A Lycan cannot be embraced by another until he embraces the wildness within himself.

  What did it mean? The definition of a Lycan slowed her reading.

  Lycans are defined by their ability to walk upright as humans. The shift from human to were is decided by the phase of the moon.

  The moon?

  What did this have to do with Simon? Simon was obviously human. As was Will. And all the other Westfield men.

  In adolescence, were children grow at a rapid pace, often surpassing the size, strength, and appetite of their contemporaries.

  Oliver? Certainly it was a coincidence that Oliver had undergone so many changes. Wasn’t it?

  Humans affected by the mark of the beast cannot avoid the call of the moon. They are unable to refuse the change.

  What change? Becoming wolf? That was impossible.

  Some Lycans experience great anger and melancholy because they lose the ability to choose for themselves. They are prone to fits of temper, during which their superior strength and speed can damage objects in their path.

  The desk?

  When a Lycan takes his mate, he’s forced to take a human, which goes against the very basis of human nature. Humans mating with animals? It shakes humanity to the very core.

  She could understand why. But the book still seemed to be more of a fairy tale than anything that could possibly be real. She assumed that anyone reading it could find some trait of a werewolf in almost any person, if they looked deeply enough.

  Lily read until it was too dark to make out the words, devouring the entire book as the sun moved across the sky. And it wasn’t until she reached the very end that she saw it. She tipped the book toward the moon so she could read the words.

  There is but one thing that identifies a werewolf. It’s presented on the body of the affected person. Every Lycan carries the mark of the beast, a simple moon-shaped mark, on his person.

  Lily jumped to her feet. The book thudded to the ground. Simon! Simon had a mark like that. Oliver had a mark like that. Simon said it was a family trait, that Will, Benjamin, and Daniel all had one, too.

  Simon was a werewolf? It was too difficult to believe. Lily ran down the path toward the house and through the back door. She had to find more books. She had to read more. Surely there would be more Lycanthropic lore if the men of the household were truly werewolves.

  Lily ran down the corridor toward the library. And that was where her wolf stalked her.

  “Where have you been?” a voice asked from the corner of the darkened library.

  Lily spun on her heels, searching the darkness. “Simon?” she asked.

  “I asked where you have been, Lily.” He leaned forward in his chair so his face was illuminated by the light of the nearly full moon that shone through the window.

  “I-I was in the garden. Reading.” Lily smoothed her hands on her skirts, trying to remove the wetness from her palms.

  “I was looking for you,” Simon said as he raised a glass of amber liquid to his lips.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Did you need something?”

  Simon stood and stalked across the room, moving slowly toward her. “Just you,” he said quietly.

  She suddenly felt like prey.

  “It’s nice to be needed.” She smiled, raising a hand to touch his face once he was close enough. She gasped as Simon growled and touched his teeth to the inside of her wrist. He abraded her skin and then licked lightly across the area. She felt that lick all the way to her toes.

  “Cold?” he asked when she shivered, his eyes, black as night, meeting hers.

  “Not a bit,” she breathed.

  Simon stepped toward her, forcing her to walk backward. She stepped back until she hit the wall. His hands came up to press against the wall on both sides of her head. She couldn’t help but think she was well and truly trapped.

  His lips pressed against hers, nearly painful with the intensity of his caress. She whimpered against him, but he paid her no heed.

  “Is this new?” he asked as he tugged at her bodice when he finally lifted his head.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “You bought it.”

  “I’ll buy you another.” Then the fabric tore as he ripped it from top to bottom and shoved it from her shoulders.

  Lily could do no more than gasp. She was terrified. But she was more terrified of her own reaction to Simon than she was of his actions toward her. She grew wet, her center pulsing as he cupped her breasts in his hands and lifted them to his face, pushing the centers together so he could draw both peaks into his mouth at once.

  Lily reached for his shoulders when her legs weakened. She glanced toward the door.

  “The door’s open, Simon,” she had the sense to whisper.

  “I don’t care,” he said as he slid his leg between her thighs and rocked her body against it.

  She immediately cried out. And then repeated the motion on her own.

  His eyes narrowed. “Do it again,” he said. She rocked against him once more, wetness flooding his pants leg as she did so.

  “I want you,” he said quietly. “Here. Now.”

  “Yes,” was all she could say.

  Simon pulled his thigh from between her legs and adjusted to free himself from his trousers. Effortlessly, he lifted her, pushing her against the wall as he slid into her in one hard, fast thrust.

  Lily cried out. Simon pushed her face into his shoulder. “Someone will hear you,” he said. “They’ll know that I’m taking you like an animal in the library.”

  She watched his face shift as he realized what he’d said and began to withdraw from her. Lily leaned forward and nibbled his neck, lightly abrading his skin with her teeth.

  He growled and filled her again. She pressed her face into his shoulder as she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist. She took him deeper. He slammed into her again. And again. And again. And finally, when she could tak
e no more, he allowed her to splinter into a million pieces and then followed.

  Simon held her there against the wall while he caught his breath. What had he done? He’d lost control. He’d hurt her. He’d used her. He’d taken her in a library with the door open like she was a common whore.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Why?” she asked, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

  “I was out of control,” he said.

  “No…” she began, but he refused to let her speak.

  “I was. I was out of control.” Simon dropped her legs to the floor and let her stand. “And I ruined your dress.” He tried to pull the edges together. But the damage was too severe. He took off his jacket and slid it around her shoulders. He righted his trousers and picked her up in his arms to carry her up the steps. Simon wondered absently where the rest of the household was. But he paid little attention to their absence. He had to get Lily upstairs before someone saw what he’d done to her.

  He took the stairs two at a time. He laid her gently on the bed and took her face in his hands. “You deserve better than me,” he ground out.

  He shushed her protest and lay with her for a moment, until her breaths became regular and quiet.

  Once she slept, he got up, dressed, and left the room.

  “Billings!” he called once he reached the bottom step.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” The man appeared as though magically summoned.

  “Have two horses readied and find Maberley. We’ll be leaving tonight, instead of tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Simon needed to get far away from Lily before he hurt her. Before he went too far and she ended up hating him.

  Forty-Four

  “YOU WANTED TO SEE ME, BLACKMOOR?” OLIVER asked, rubbing his eyes as he stepped into the study.

  Simon stared up at the lad, his vision clear, his memory of losing control still fresh in his mind. “We’re starting for Surrey tonight. Grab your satchel and meet me in the stables.”

  “Tonight?” Oliver covered a yawn with his hand. “I thought we were going to leave in the morning. I didn’t get to say good-bye to Aunt Lily, and Cook said—”