A Witch in Time

by Alicia Montgomery

  “I don’t think—”

  “Oh, Your Grace!” Monsieur Fermin’s voice pitched higher with excitement. “That would please me so much.” He looked at the three women. “And the ladies would benefit from dancing with a gentleman. If you please, Lady Bridget.”

  “Oh no.” Bridget waved her hand as she plopped down in a chair next to Julianna. “I just finished dancing. My feet need a wee bit of a rest.”

  Monsieur Fermin grimaced when his gaze landed on Julianna. “Miss Henney,” he said as his eyes trained on Elise. “If you please.”

  Her heart jumped to her throat. “I couldn’t possibly—” Her protests died as Reed stepped in front of her and offered his hand.

  “Miss Henney, may I have this dance?”

  His voice was like thick, smooth honey. She stared at his hand until Julianna elbowed her, jolting her enough to make her shoot to her feet. “Leave room for Jesus,” Julianna teased.

  Elise had no choice but to take his hand. This time only she wore gloves, and his touch sent a shock of electricity across her skin. There was a flash of surprise in his eyes, but that stony mask returned so fast she thought she’d imagined it.

  “The waltz, Your Grace?” Fermin asked.

  Reed nodded as he placed a hand on her waist. As the pianist started a slow waltz, he began to lead her into the dance. Elise realized that with the exception of last night, this was the closest they’d ever been. At this distance, she allowed herself to breathe in his scent—and her senses were filled with something earthy and delicious, like the scent of fresh rain and strangely enough—sunscreen. It reminded her a lot of lazy summer days at the beach.

  The other thing she realized was that Monsieur Fermin wasn’t lying. Reed was an excellent dancer. When she danced with Fermin earlier, the instructor was precise, but at the same time, light on his feet and almost feminine.

  Reed was the opposite. His presence was commanding, but he led her around the room with a sensuous and unmistakable masculinity that made her knees weak. Though her lashes were lowered, she could feel his hawk-like gaze on her, and she cursed herself silently when she felt the heat creep up her cheeks.

  His hand tightened its grip on her waist as he pulled her to him. Her wolf reveled in the closeness—which was, by today’s standards, nearly scandalous. She realized he had somehow drawn them to the farther end of the ballroom.

  “Nothing to say today, she-wolf?”

  Her head snapped up to meet his gaze. Oh God, why did she go off on him last night? But she couldn’t help herself. He was just so infuriating. “We are in a room full of people, Your Grace,” she said. “I wouldn’t dare say anything.”

  “Maybe you can show me your claws again when we’re alone.”

  The way he said those words made heat curl up in her stomach. When we’re alone, he said. Not if.

  “Maybe I won’t make that same mistake again.” She suddenly stopped, bringing their waltz to a halt. “Your Grace,” she added.

  “Is everything all right?” Monsieur Fermin called as he motioned for Devereux to stop playing.

  “It’s all fine,” Reed said. “I just found the waltz too … boring.”

  She fumed silently. Boring?

  “Lady Bridget is an excellent dancer,” Fermin offered. “Perhaps you can dance the Quadrille with her?”

  “Of course.” Reed turned away from Elise and toward Bridget. “May I have this honor, cousin?”

  As Bridget took her place, Elise silently padded back to her chair next to Julianna. She avoided the other woman’s gaze and kept her eyes down to her lap. When she tried to look up and saw Reed and Bridget dancing, a strange tightness in her chest began to form and her wolf growled softly. Shut up, she told her animal. Bridget and Reed were cousins. There was no need to feel … weird just because he was touching her. And yet that feeling wouldn’t go away.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours—though it had only been a three-minute dance—Eleanor declared it was late, and they should all prepare for dinner. Elise was glad to be out of there—almost as glad as Julianna it seemed as the younger woman practically fled out of the dance room.

  Elise was glad that Melinda was waiting in her room. The maid explained that they had traveled behind the earl’s coach and she had spent the afternoon making sure her room was ready. Melinda helped her bathe and get dressed in a simple cream evening gown, cut in an empire style that was fashionable in these days.

  Dinner wasn’t as bad as yesterday. Since Reed and his grandmother were technically hosts, they sat on either end and Elise was in the middle, next to Signore Rossi. The charming Italian man had seemed to take a liking to Julianna, who kept extolling her beauty and virtues, much to the duchess’s horror.

  When dinner was over, all the men went to the library to partake in some drinks and cigars, while the women went to the parlor for coffee and some sweets. When the dowager duchess decided to retire, that meant the ladies could as well.

  “I’ll come to your room later tonight,” Julianna whispered as they walked up the stairs while Bridget was behind them. “So we can start the search.”

  She nodded and then bid her and Bridget good night as she went to her own room. Melinda was already there, and the maid helped her undress, get freshened up, and change into her bedclothes. As soon as Melinda closed the door, she threw the covers aside and sat up.

  Without a clock, she couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but it seemed to crawl by. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the soft knock came at the door.

  “It’s me,” came Julianna’s soft whisper.

  Elise released the breath she was holding and opened the door. Julianna put a finger to her lips and then gestured for Elise to follow her. They walked down the long corridor, then down the stairs to the main foyer.

  “Cross should be here any minute.” Julianna glanced around. The foyer was dark and empty. “Are you sure you want to join us, Elise?”

  “Of course, I’m not going to let you do all the work,” she said. “And with three of us working at the same time, we can cover more ground. What’s the plan?”

  “Cross did some exploring this afternoon,” Julianna began. “We’ve eliminated places where the dagger can’t possibly be—like the servant’s areas, the gardens, and stables—and mapped out the main house.”

  “Any luck in getting Reed to talk about where the dagger is?” Elise asked.

  She shook her head. “According to Cross, Reed genuinely doesn’t seem to know.” Her brows wrinkled. “He thinks the dowager duchess might know so he wants me to work that angle.” Julianna made a face. “Ugh. So, it’s possible that old bat is the only thing standing between me, a shower, and a cheeseburger.”

  Elise smiled. “Seems like it.”

  Julianna crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ll have to help stop me from wringing her neck.”

  “It shouldn’t be too—” Elise suddenly stopped and held a finger up. “I think someone’s coming.” Elise’s keen hearing could pick up sounds from upstairs. Footsteps. And from her position at the end of the alcove, she could see exactly who it was.

  Reed.

  He was dressed casually in a loose white shirt, tight breeches, and knee-high boots. As shafts of moonlight hit his face, her heart hammered in her chest. He looked handsomely dangerous, but even more than that, they would be in real danger if he discovered them sneaking around in the dark. Again. And this was his home, so he could throw them out this time.

  Biting her lip, she knew there was only one thing she could do. She caught Julianna’s eyes and pointed to herself, then nodded her head.

  Julianna’s mismatched eyes widened, and she shook her head to disagree, but it was too late. Reed was nearing the bottom of the stairs, and he would see them. With a deep breath, Elise ran as fast as she could—away from Julianna and toward the long hallway on the other side of the foyer.

  Her heart slammed over and over again against her ribcage as she made a run for it. She used her Lyca
n speed, but since he was a Lycan too, he surely saw her as she ran across the foyer. He was so close she could feel his presence at her back. And that was her intention, to draw him away from Julianna.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” The hand that wrapped around her arm was firm and she found herself pushed up against the wall. “Are you lost again, little she-wolf?” His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her skin.

  “Y-Your Grace,” she whispered. “I-I couldn’t sleep. I was just trying to f-f-find a book or something to read.”

  “Is that so? Then why did you run away from me?”

  “I don’t—I’m sorry,” she stammered and tried to squirm away from him, but his grip tightened.

  “Do you know what could happen to young, innocent women who creep around other people’s homes in nothing but their nightgowns?”

  She could see his eyes glowing in the dark. A sign that his wolf was near the surface. Despite being a Lycan herself, she couldn’t help but feel like Little Red Riding Hood, about to be eaten by the Big Bad Wolf. When she opened her mouth, no sound came out, so she shook her head instead.

  “No?” He cocked his head. “Let me show you.”

  Elise barely had time to protest as his head descended toward her. It happened in a split second, but it was like time slowed down, and scenes from her past flashed through her mind.

  Her body froze, waiting for the uncontrollable surge of power to course through her and shock Reed into a coma, just like it did to Chris.

  But it didn’t come. In fact, though her body hummed with electricity, it stayed contained within her.

  Oh.

  And Reed … his lips molded against hers in a sensuous assault, teasing her at first. Her heart beat with an erratic staccato, pounding madly against her chest as he continued to kiss her. She found herself pressing her bare hands against the front of his chest. His muscles jumped at her touch, but he didn’t stop kissing her. If anything, his kisses became more insistent, and feeling bold, she slid her hands higher, stopping at the nape of his neck to tangle with the errant curls of his hair.

  The feel of his bare skin against her fingers made her moan—not only did the heat shoot desire all the way to her core, but she realized this was the first time she’d ever touched a man’s bare skin. When she felt the brush of something hard against her hip, she gasped, but pressed herself up against him.

  Reed pushed her back against the wall, pinning her. With nothing but her thin nightgown and his breeches between them, she could feel every hard plane of his muscled body. She wantonly opened her mouth to let his tongue slip between her lips and touch hers. Another shock of electricity spread through her body, but again, it didn’t seem to affect him.

  A hand slid under her nightgown, pushing it up until it was above her knees. When his fingers moved higher, she felt her knees go weak.

  The loss of his lips made her whimper, and as he raised his head, the naked desire on his face was unmistakable.

  “You kiss like a virgin, but your body says otherwise.” The flare of his nostrils told her that he could smell her arousal.

  He raised an eyebrow at her as if waiting for her to say something. She gasped in horror and pushed him away. I should slap him. Tell him that he should stay away from me and this wasn’t proper. That this was a mistake. But the words weren’t coming out of her mouth. Her wolf, on the other hand, rolled around in delight at the thought that he wanted them so bad.

  The conflict between herself and her animal paralyzed her. And so, she did the only thing she could think of.

  She pushed past him and ran like a coward.

  Chapter Seven

  Reed had every intention of staying in London and letting Eleanor and his grandmother take care of the crazy Americans. His sister was the one who insisted on being their champions, despite his objections, so she could deal with them. He didn’t have to see them if he didn’t want to.

  Yes, he was decided on staying in town.

  That is, until Elise Henney showed her claws after dinner.

  He was never one to play games with women. Many of those he dallied with or took on as his mistress tried to manipulate him emotionally. Except few of them realized that when you had no emotions, you couldn’t be manipulated. Anaïs was the most recent one to make that mistake, and she probably wouldn’t be the last.

  Elise wasn’t playing games with him, but somehow, that made him want to know more. She was so passionate in her defense—and her fury at him—that anyone would have believed her. But he still wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth. He had to know what was going on.

  And he had to have another whiff of her delicious scent. His wolf had howled possessively when it smelled her last night—like strawberries and lemons mixed together reminding him of summer days of his childhood. It was enchanting and he couldn’t get enough.

  His damn obsession with her made him act impulsively. Before he knew it, he was heading to Huntington Park instead of spending the week in London attending to business.

  Dancing was not part of his plan, but he took advantage of it. Holding her close had brought up emotions in him he didn’t want to name—desire, yes, but something else too. And so, during dinner, he did his best to avoid looking at her, but he failed miserably as he kept being drawn to her beautiful face and the expanse of creamy skin exposed by her dress. Sure, he had seen many more daring outfits on other women, but even in the plain gown, her beauty shone even more and incited his lust.

  He tried to forget her, but his damn animal kept him up. The wolf was restless knowing she was nearby and under the same roof. He thought some brandy would help, but when he saw the shadow crossing the foyer, he just knew it was her. Seeing her run had made his Lycan instincts flare up, and he chased after her.

  In the moonlight, she seemed even more beautiful, and her scent overpowered him. Bewitched him, really, and he could no longer fight it and he had to taste her.

  And she turned out to be everything he could ever want. All his erotic dreams rolled into one package.

  This was pure madness.

  But at the same time, not. She was perfect in his arms. Although her kisses seemed tentative, her hands and body were bold. She was following her instinct, the desire to be one with him.

  Her True Mate.

  Now, that was the part that was madness.

  Because although he wanted her in his bed, he still didn’t trust her. The fact that she was once again prowling around the house in the middle of the night showed that she was hiding something.

  No, he was not going to fall into this trap again. Elise Henney was a woman, and he would not allow himself to be in that situation again.

  And so, he avoided her for the next day and a half. He worked in his office or went about on a tour of the estate, giving excuses to his grandmother and Eleanor that there were many things that needed his attention. Not that he could avoid her.

  Just now, he thought he heard her laughing and giggling, and when he looked out the window, he saw Elise and Julianna with William. They were running around in the garden—probably playing tag— and Elise looked carefree, her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and she was more beautiful than ever.

  His every thought was consumed with Elise. Wanting her, and at the same time, wanting nothing to do with her.

  “Your Grace.” Edwards walked into his office as he was meeting with Whittleby. “Apologies for the interruption, but your guests have arrived.”

  “Guests?” Reed asked. “I have guests?”

  “Viscount Daly, Your Grace,” Edwards said. “He says you are expecting him and his children. They’re already unpacking their coach. Shall I prepare some rooms for them?”

  “Unpacking?” He and the viscount had been trying to meet in order to talk business about a new shipping venture to the Caribbean. They were supposed to have a formal meeting yesterday at Hunter House, and he knew it was rude to cancel last minute. So, instead of outright canceling the meeting, he
had sent Daly a note offering to host the meeting at Huntington Park instead at his convenience. Still, he didn’t mean for Daly to stay or to bring his children.

  “Your Grace?” Edwards asked.

  He let out a drawn-out sigh. It wasn’t like he could toss them out now. “Show them in and get some guest rooms prepared for the viscount and his children.” Eleanor and Grandmama were probably not going to like this seeing as the reason they came here was to keep Bridget, Elise, and Julianna away from the ton’s prying eyes. However, Daly wasn’t exactly one of the elite members of society, though he was well-respected enough. Because of his large holdings in the Caribbean, the viscount had spent considerable time there and only returned recently with his children. He had heard that the viscountess had died when the children were younger, contracting some terrible tropical disease.

  After giving last-minute instructions to Whittleby and dismissing him, Reed prepared himself for his unexpected guests.

  “Your Grace,” Edwards began as he re-entered the office. “His lordship, Viscount Daly, the Honorable Simon Richardson and the Honorable Beatrice Richardson.”

  Edwards ushered in the three newcomers. Hugh Richardson, Viscount Daly, came in first. They had only met twice before, first after being introduced by a mutual friend at White’s, and the second after the viscount called on him and proposed the business venture. The viscount was a tall, thin man with snowy white hair and a thin mustache.

  The two people behind him, however, he had never met, though the viscount had spoken of his children before. Simon and Beatrice were twins, apparently, both with blond hair and green eyes, and dressed fashionably in the London style.

  “Your Grace,” Daly began as he took a deep bow, “we are utterly honored by your invitation to your magnificent home.” Simon followed suit, while Beatrice made a deep curtsey.

  “Your invitation came as a pleasant surprise, Your Grace,” Simon said.

  It was definitely a surprise, Reed thought to himself, but bit his tongue. “Thank you for making the trip here.”

  “I’ve heard many great things about Huntington Park, Your Grace.” Beatrice looked up at him from lowered lashes. “And I must say, words do not do it justice.”