The Wolf's Bait (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 2)

by Patricia Blackmoor

  Really, if I should speak to anyone about this, it would be Annabelle. With an eighteen–month–old son, she must be feeling the same anxiety that I was. Of course, she had grown up around the wolves. She knew what to expect. Yet every time I looked at her, a feeling of betrayal sank in my stomach. I had considered her a close friend, but she had been keeping life–altering secrets from me. I wasn’t sure how to get past that. Though I yearned for her advice, I didn’t know how to bring myself to talk with her about it.

  I tried to shift my focus to the party tomorrow and the upcoming Yuletide season. This was going to be my first Christmas as an orphan, and I was having difficulty wrapping my head around that. Last Christmas hadn’t been easy. My father and I were running low on money. We couldn’t afford a tree or any sort of decorations, but we savored the carolers and I even splurged a little to buy us some meat. It hadn’t been much, but I had been with my father and that was what mattered.

  My father had died in May. Everything, this whole situation, was the result of death. When my father passed, I had no choice but to take Annabelle’s offer to come to Wolf’s Peak. I was on the streets, penniless, otherwise. Had Jasper’s wife, Cecilia, not passed, he wouldn’t have been looking for a new wife. Both those deaths led to me being here, married, pregnant, and a duchess.

  I sighed, rolling over to face Jasper. In the flickering light of the fireplace, his full lips rested slightly apart, and shadows gathered under his cheekbones. His turquoise eyes were hidden by his closed eyelids and long eyelashes. Asleep his face looked so peaceful—angelic, even—and in his sleep, he could have been five years younger.

  I pulled myself out of bed. I tied on a pair of boots and grabbed my cloak from the wardrobe. I wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon, and staying in the room was making me twitchy and irritable. I wrapped the cloak tightly over my shoulders and shut the bedroom door quietly behind me.

  I tiptoed down the staircase, the entry illuminated by soft candles. My feet had hit the floor when I heard a noise coming from the hallway behind me. I tucked inside the doorway of the parlor, unsure who was going to be coming this way. On a rational level, I knew it was silly to be paranoid. No one had tried to kill me in over four months. Still, hiding with a pounding heart was my first response.

  I peeked around the corner to see Annabelle and Stephen coming through the entry. Annabelle had her cloak around her shoulders, hands buried in a fur muff. Stephen had linked his arm through hers, and they walked that way toward the door.

  Observing her here, unnoticed, I was flooded with emotions. The first was guilt; she was here so late because she was trying to make everything perfect for the party tomorrow. That meant combined with the guilt was gratefulness at all the hard work she was putting into this party. I also was unable to quash the jealousy that grew as I watched them together. If only my relationship with Jasper could be like theirs. They seemed to fit together so effortlessly, no secrets between them. Of course, she had known he was a werewolf before they married.

  That brought me to my fourth feeling: pain. Or perhaps aching, or betrayal. She had pretended to be my friend, yet she kept secrets from me. How was I supposed to forgive that? She hadn’t even brought it up, although doubtless she knew that I was now aware that werewolves existed, that I had married one, and that I was going to give birth to one. No apology had been given, and that made it hard for me to move on. Yet I missed my friend. I had already lost one, learning that the wolf I had taken solace in was revealed to be my husband. I needed someone to talk to.

  Bridget and I were close, but I certainly couldn’t explain my thoughts to her. What would she do if she learned that Wolf’s Peak was filled with werewolves? I would lose her, for sure. Her pride would put her back out on the streets, and I couldn’t have that on my conscience along with everything else.

  Stephen opened the door, and Annabelle ducked outside into the snow. Through the thick walls of the manor I heard the carriage door shut, and the now–familiar sound of horse hooves on snow–clad cobblestone. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing Annabelle hadn’t seen me. We hadn’t spoken much since the night in the woods, keeping our distances. I suspected she knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure if she knew why I was withdrawing from her. I wasn’t ready to have another conversation with her today, especially not as tired and emotionally drained as I was.

  I crossed back into the entry and down the hallway Annabelle and Stephen had come from. I was grateful that I had heard them before I had gotten too close to hide. Not only did I not want to talk to Annabelle, I also didn’t want to have to explain what I was doing awake, dressed to go outside, at a few minutes to midnight.

  I opened the double doors at the back of the house. Snow fell in large flakes, accumulating on the balcony so that I had to use a little extra effort to open the door and push the snow back. I didn’t shut the door all the way; they tended to stick in the winter. I propped it open with a snowball, the wet, sticky snow cold on my hands. In hindsight, I should have grabbed gloves. When I was done, I wiped the moisture off on my cloak, the wool absorbing the ice water, then stuck my hands in my pockets.

  Without enough clouds to obscure it, the moon shined brightly down on the white snow. A few lanterns burned outside, scattered throughout the gardens, but they weren’t necessary as the bright light of the moon reflected off the snow, bathing the courtyard in a silver glow. I trudged down the stairs, hoping enough snow would fall tonight to fill my footprints so no one knew I had been out.

  The stairs and the paths had been shoveled after every snowfall, leaving little piles of snow several inches high on the grass. Even so, the paths were slippery, ice accumulating and masked under the freshly fallen snow. I stepped carefully.

  When I made it to the cemetery gates, I pulled the key out of my pocket. I tried it in the lock, but it wouldn’t turn, undoubtedly frozen in the cold. I leaned down and breathed on it, the warm air melting the ice enough to allow the key to turn and unlock the gate. The handle of the gate was dusted in snow, and I used my cloak to pull the door open. I followed the path to the front of the cemetery, where two new headstones rested. The one on the left was recent, having been replaced after discovering it crumbling under some vines. Inscribed was the name Elizabeth Croft, my mother. She had passed when I was very little after being attacked by a werewolf in the forests surrounding Wolf’s Peak.

  I didn’t remember much of my time here as a child, although more was coming back every day. It was as if my brain had walled off the bad memories of my mother’s death, and when I was hit with a multitude of flashbacks from her attack, the floodgates opened.

  The first five years of my life had been spent at Wolf’s Peak. My father had brought our family here when I was a baby, when he was hired on as the family doctor. By all accounts, we lived here happily until my mother was suddenly attacked by a rogue werewolf. After that, my father had moved us to Ervine, the nearest city, about a five–hour carriage ride from the estate. It wasn’t until his funeral that I saw Jasper again.

  The gravestone beside my mother’s belonged to my father, Arthur Croft. When we discovered that my mother was buried in the cemetery at Wolf’s Peak, Jasper had asked that my father’s body be exhumed from the cemetery in Ervine so that my parents could be interred beside each other. The gesture had caused me to choke up, seeing their names beside each other for the first time. I took comfort in the easy ability to visit them both as they lay together.

  I dusted the snow off their stones, knowing full well that they would be covered again by morning. Jasper had offered to put them in one of the mausoleums, like his family, but that hadn’t felt right. My father had fled to get away from Wolf’s Peak. While having him here was welcoming, I thought that putting him with the rest of the Wolfric family was taking it a tad too far. My father had always considered mausoleums to be ostentatious anyway, although I would never tell that to Jasper. My excuse simply had been that I didn’t want to have to disturb my mother’s grave as wel
l, and he relented.

  In addition to the new grave, Jasper had also placed a marble bench there. I had spent quite some time in the autumn months sitting there, watching as the leaves turned and the flowers curled up for the year. Now I brushed the snow off with my cloak and sat, watching the snow drift down onto the gray markers. I wasn’t sure how long I was there simply contemplating my life. I had done that a lot since returning to Wolf’s Peak, and I wondered if there would ever be a time that I didn’t question if I had made the right decisions for my life.

  The sound of the cemetery gate creaking open snapped me from my reverie. I jerked my head up, wishing I had brought a knife or dagger to protect myself. Exposed here, it would be easy to make another attempt on my life. The first time—the poisoning—that had been enough. Then I had been stabbed, then attacked by a werewolf. All three were committed by Jasper’s brother, Seth, a power–hungry man who would stop at nothing to take his brother’s title. I thought I had killed him in the forest, but no body was ever recovered. He had haunted my nightmares since; had he come back to finish what he started?

  A shadow moved toward me, but once the moonlight landed on the figure, I relaxed. It was only Jasper.

  He came and sat down next to me, ignoring the snow on the bench. With his body heat, he’d probably melt it in seconds anyway. He didn’t speak, and for a long time, we sat there together in a peaceful quiet.

  Finally, I broke the silent night. “What are you doing out here?”

  He glanced over at me. “I could ask you the same.”

  I looked over at my parents’ stones. “I come out here sometimes when I’m restless. It calms me.”

  “I woke up and you were gone. I was worried.”

  “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “I’m all right now, but my first thought was that perhaps something had happened to you. I thought perhaps Seth had come back. That’s my worst nightmare.”

  “He’s in mine, too. My nightmares, that is.”

  Jasper wrapped his arms around me, his warmth radiating through my cloak. “We’ll get him.”

  “I hope so.”

  He tilted my head so I was looking into his green–blue eyes. “I promise. I’ll do anything to keep you and the baby safe.”

  “I know.”

  He gave me a soft kiss, his lips heated against my icy skin.

  “I know things haven’t been easy,” he said. “I’ve got people all over England keeping an eye out for him. If he so much as runs through a town, we’ll know about it.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure what to say, since Seth was only part of the problem. There was so much more going on at Wolf’s Peak than Seth. I was dealing with the psychological trauma of almost being killed by a giant wolf, of being pregnant, of finding out that my husband was a werewolf and was keeping secrets from me.

  In addition, Jasper had scarcely been home in the last several months, racing out any time there was a tip about Seth. It nearly always was a dead end, and he would come home dejected. The worst thing was, I wasn’t sure if he knew that all of these things were bothering me, or if he assumed that it was only Seth being at large that was stressing me out. When he was home, he was constantly trying to get me to relax, encouraging me to take long baths and get plenty of sleep, since stress was bad for the baby. All I wanted was to find the words to tell him how I felt, but they never seemed to be there when I needed them.

  Jasper stood up from the bench and held his hand out to me. “Let’s go back inside,” he said.

  His hand engulfed mine as I stood up, providing some much–needed heat to my frozen fingers. We walked together through the gardens and into the house. I thought of Annabelle and Stephen walking arm–in–arm. Their relationship was so vastly different. They held no secrets, no pain.

  Jasper leaned down to give me a kiss as we reached my door. “Get some sleep, love. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Nothing is going to ruin our Christmas.”

  He gave me a second soft peck before turning toward his bedroom, shutting his door behind him. I paused for a minute, taking a deep breath, before retiring to bed.

  Chapter Three

  I weaved my way through the crowd, careful to keep my cider from spilling. I wasn’t used to taking up so much space, nor having anyone who noticed me step out of my way. I likened myself to a whale today.

  After my late night, Jasper had insisted that I sleep in. I protested, not wanting to leave all the remaining work to Annabelle, but he assured me she would be perfectly fine. I stayed in my room most of the day with Bridget for company, eating both breakfast and lunch in bed. When the time came to get ready for the party, Bridget had helped me prepare, guiding me as I stepped into my dress since the skirt was so full it covered my feet where they landed.

  “Are you excited?” she asked me.

  “As much as I can be, I suppose,” I had answered. I knew it wasn’t as enthusiastic of an answer as she was looking for, but in my tension I couldn’t muster up the energy to be anything but listless.

  “This dress is lovely on you,” she said as she finished fastening the pearl buttons on the back. She had been right about the color; it seemed to make my skin glow. The waist hit right under my bust, giving me enough room for my growing bump. I loved the way it swished, too, giving me breathability under my skirts.

  Bridget had twisted my hair back, a few strands of dark locks framing my face. She slid in a comb decorated with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. I had hesitated initially; the comb had been a gift from Jasper, an attempt to apologize for keeping so many secrets from me. The comb, lovely though it was, held bad emotions. Bridget put it in anyway, and when she handed me a second mirror so I could see the back of my hair, I had to admit it looked lovely.

  We kept my shoes simple: a pair of satin slippers. My feet had begun to take on the habit of swelling if I stood for too long, and slippers were the most comfortable options for me. Annabelle had custom–ordered for me a soft white satin decorated with pearls and lace. Though she hadn’t said anything to indicate it, I suspected that might have been an attempt at an apology. Again, I was hesitant to wear something that bore such emotion, but they were far and away my best choice for comfort and beauty.

  I’d even let Bridget put a bit of makeup on me, though I cautioned her to keep it simple. She rolled her eyes at me, assuring me that just because she used to put on piles of makeup to attract her male customers didn’t mean she didn’t know how to apply it properly. She proved to be right when I saw a little extra color in my cheeks and a red stain on my lips.

  Annabelle had truly outdone herself this time. I thought I knew what to expect, but when I came down the stairs, I was in awe. I had already seen most of the decorations, but there was so much more that added to the ambiance of the party. Music floated softly from the grand piano in the ballroom, and the whole house was illuminated with flickering candles. The smell of pine and cookies filled the air. It was lovely.

  When the guests arrived, I greeted each near the door until the constant opening and closing made me so cold I was sure my fingers would snap off. After that Jasper moved me into the parlor by the fire, and I watched the guests filter in from there. I had already lost track of how many people I had greeted, but I knew it was somewhere over a hundred and probably closer to one hundred fifty. Finally, I’d had enough of staying seated and darted over to the dining room to sneak a few cookies and warm cider.

  “Christine!” A hand laid on my arm, and I turned to see Jasper. “There you are. I went to find you in the parlor and you were gone.”

  I held up my cup. “Sorry, ran to get some cider.”

  “Hazel and Adam are here.”

  “Where?” I turned my head, craning to find them through the throngs of people.

  He took my arm. “They’re in the ballroom. Come on.”

  We started toward the hallway, but it took a moment to dodge through the people.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked as we maneuvered.


  “Yeah,” I lied. He raised an eyebrow at me speculatively.

  “I don’t know most of these people,” I explained.

  “That’s why I thought you’d be so excited Hazel was here.” We’d finally made it from the parlor to the hall off the entryway, but that didn’t mean it would be any easier to navigate. It was even harder going in the narrower hallways.

  “You’re wearing the comb I gave you,” Jasper said with a smile.

  I bit my cheek. I didn’t want him to be happy that I was wearing his apology comb. At the same time, I knew that I needed to give a little on my end. He was trying very hard to connect with me, and I had been shutting him out.

  “I was waiting for the right occasion, and this seemed like the perfect one,” I told him.

  He reached up to touch it gently. “It looks lovely in your hair. In fact, I’ve rarely seen you more beautiful than you are tonight.”

  “What about our wedding day?”

  “Well, of course—”

  “Or the day we found out I was pregnant?” I teased.

  “To be fair, you had just been leaning over the toilet when you came to that conclusion. And don’t forget, I already knew at that point.”

  I fell quiet. That had been the wrong thing to say. Thanks to Jasper’s superior werewolf senses, he had been able to tell that I was pregnant before I’d had any idea. He even knew that we were having a boy. Even though I was the one carrying our son, Jasper already was more in tune with him. That hurt.

  Jasper didn’t seem to realize that what he’d said had bothered me as he steered me into the ballroom. At one end of the room, the pianist was playing while a group sang off–key carols along with him. On the other end we’d set up tables, and they were filled with guests, cringing while trying to have a conversation over the noise. As we headed toward the tables, Adam and Hazel saw us and waved.