The Cursed One

by Ronda Thompson

  A slight smile tugged at the corner of Wulf’s sensuous mouth. “By all means, be forthright.”

  She raised her chin. “Would you have me lie?”

  His slightly bemused expression faded. “I understand seldom is a match made in London that has anything to do with love, but you could have lied. Robert is no longer here to say otherwise.”

  She wouldn’t be baited by him. “Lied for whose sake?” she challenged. “Yours?”

  He stepped closer, towering over her. He was quite intimidating size-wise, and Amelia fought herself not to take a step back from him.

  “He was once my friend.”

  Guilt rushed up to claim her. A flush burned her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You must think I’m terribly cold.”

  Wulf turned and walked back to the window. “I don’t think you’re terribly anything, Lady Collingsworth. I hardly know you.”

  Mora poked her head inside the room and startled Amelia. “Breakfast is ready,” Mora said. “I was wondering if I should bring it up or if you will both dine downstairs?”

  Amelia couldn’t say she wasn’t glad for the distraction. Why would it sting her that Lord Gabriel Wulf had so casually dismissed her and her feelings? Perhaps because of the dreams she’d once had about him. On some level, she did feel as if she knew him. Which was silly. She did not know him at all.

  “Downstairs will be fine,” Wulf answered. “No point in you having to bring trays up. I’m sure you are as tired as the both of us.”

  Lord Gabriel was a more considerate person than Amelia. She’d just been thinking it would be nice to dine upstairs and return to bed, to escape from reality for a while longer. When Wulf glanced at her for confirmation, what else could she do but say, “Of course. If you will both retire there, I will join you as soon as I’ve dressed”?

  Mora nodded and hurried back out. Wulf walked across the room. He gave Amelia a slightly curious look before exiting and closing the door behind him. Amelia supposed he thought she couldn’t even dress herself, and she realized she never had, not completely on her own. She moved to her wardrobe, where her gowns had been unpacked the previous afternoon. The sight of her frilly garments brought her a measure of comfort. They reminded her of her old life, the one she’d lived only yesterday.

  Choosing a light blue day frock with short puffed sleeves seemed a trifle cheery considering she was now a widow. Amelia supposed even taking consolation in the fact that she looked good in black with her fair coloring was also insensitive. But what choice did she have? It wasn’t as if she’d thought she would need somber clothing on her honeymoon. She had no choice but to wear what she’d brought. Amelia stripped from her robe and her ripped gown. Being wed and widowed on the same day would certainly cause scandal.

  Her parents would not be pleased. She had hardly done a thing in her life that pleased them, so years ago she’d decided she might as well be good at displeasing them. She’d once promised the Dowager Duchess of Brayberry, a friend of the notorious Wulf brothers, that she would someday become the most shocking woman in all of England. She supposed she was off to a good start.

  Suddenly Amelia was angry. Angry at Robert for putting her in this awkward situation. Her life was supposed to improve with marriage; instead, it had all gone horribly wrong. She was supposed to wake this morning a woman, her past indiscretions with her parents forgotten, forgiven. Robert was supposed to make her happy. He had promised. He never said a word about dying. He never said a word about any of this. Not the creepiness of Collingsworth Manor or that she would be in danger here.

  Certainly not that wolves weren’t always what they appeared to be. Amelia immediately steered her thoughts in a different direction. She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about last night. Instead, she tried to concentrate on getting dressed. Her corset was a problem. Amelia tried lacing it from the front with the intention of sliding it around to the back, but she laced it too tight and she couldn’t tug it around like it should be. She broke a nail in the process of trying. It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

  Her knees suddenly buckled and she went to the floor. A lump rose in her throat. Her eyes began to water. She squeezed them closed and fought down the despair gripping her. It was no use. First a slight sob escaped her throat, then a wail. Then the floodgates burst open. As shallow as she wanted to be, as much as she wanted to distance herself from pain, from fear, from facing up to what had happened last night, and the fact that Robert was dead, Amelia couldn’t.

  It was as if a lifetime of emotions had gathered against her in that one moment, in that dark hour. She completely broke down. How long she sat weeping or, rather, caterwauling like a kitten left out in the rain Amelia could not judge. She lost track of time and was only brought to the present when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She nearly screamed. Her head jerked up and she was suddenly staring Lord Gabriel full in the face.

  “I thought I’d come up and see what was keeping you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  If he didn’t mean to scare her, he shouldn’t move so quietly. Amelia wiped her face with the edge of her petticoat. It occurred to her when his gaze lowered for a moment before lifting back to her face that she wore only her chemise, a petticoat, and her twisted corset.

  “I couldn’t get my corset turned around properly,” she explained.

  He lifted a brow. “All this over your corset?”

  Amelia sniffed. “I also broke a nail,” she added.

  His gaze softened upon her again, and it did funny things to her insides. “I’ll help you,” he said; then he rose, wincing in the process. He pulled her to her feet and turned her to where her back faced him. His fingers were sure and steady upon the laces as he loosened her corset and pulled it around in the proper position, before he began lacing her up.

  “I think you’ve had experience with this sort of thing before,” she said in a dry tone.

  Wulf laughed softly. “Not really. But I suppose I’ve watched enough women shimmy out of their clothes to understand a corset’s workings.”

  Amelia wasn’t certain how she felt about that. In her dreams of Gabriel Wulf, other women had never been involved.

  “How tight do you want it?”

  Considering all that had happened, perhaps she should leave it somewhat loose in case she was forced to run for her life. “Not too tight,” she answered. “I think I should be able to breathe.”

  “I think you don’t need it at all.” His hands were warm around her waist, so warm she felt their heat. “Your waist is small enough without it.”

  Best to guide her thoughts from the direction they were headed. It wasn’t right, and certainly not after she’d just broken down and actually grieved for poor Robert. She might be a shocking girl, but even she knew one did not grieve for one man one moment and lust for another the next.

  “I’m glad I did not love him,” she whispered. “I don’t think I could stand the pain. This is awful enough.”

  Gently, Gabriel turned her to face him. “He deserves at least a few tears from his wife, and my respect, for a friendship we once shared. Maybe a moment of silence between us, for poor Robert.”

  Amelia nodded and closed her eyes. She peeked beneath her lashes a second later to see if Gabriel had also closed his. His lashes made dark smudges against his high cheekbones. She wondered why he was blond but had darker facial hair. The contrast was very nice.

  Everything about him was very nice, physically anyway. He made her feel quite dainty with his broad shoulders and his impressive height. He opened his eyes and suddenly they were staring at each other.

  She knew she should look away, but she felt suddenly mesmerized. It was then that she noticed his scent. Her nostrils flared slightly in an effort to identify it, but she could not. She’d never smelled anything quite like it. But wait … she had. The day she first visited Lucinda Wulf and had met Lord Gabriel’s younger brother Jackson.

&nbs
p; Heat gathered in her belly and spread out in all directions—up her chest to her neck and face, down her legs, and most especially between them. Her nipples tightened. Her lips parted and she had trouble drawing a normal breath. He could do anything to her and she would not resist. The thought entered her mind even as she wanted to deny it. Body outranked mind and she took a step toward him. He drew in a shaky breath, but still his eyes bored into hers and he did not step away from her.

  She wanted his hands on her. His mouth. She wanted to lie with him upon yonder bed and have him take what no new bride should still possess. Her innocence. As if he read her thoughts, Gabriel reached out and touched her. His hand was large and callused from work but warm against her skin. Slowly it traveled up her arm to her neck, then behind it as he pulled her closer. She still stared into his eyes when they suddenly glowed with a strange blue light.

  Her mind was playing tricks on her, Amelia reasoned. Perhaps she was still dreaming. She must be, because regardless of how attracted she was to Gabriel Wulf, with all that had happened she wouldn’t want him to kiss her. And she did. She wanted it desperately.

  He slid his hand from behind her head, cupping her cheek before his thumb traced the shape of her mouth. “So tempting.”

  His lips were so close she nearly felt the sensation of them against hers without touch. Amelia closed her eyes and raised herself upon her tiptoes.

  It was wrong, deliciously wrong, she knew that, but for months she had wondered what it would feel like to kiss Gabriel Wulf. Warm, firm, the first sensation that registered when his lips brushed hers. A mingling of breaths before his hand slid back behind her head again and he slanted his mouth against hers. He nudged her lips farther apart and then his tongue penetrated her, teased hers into a dance. It was as potent as any brandy, his kiss.

  Amelia was helplessly lost. Lost in sensation, lost in the scent of him—the feel of him—the warmth spreading through her. Her heart hammered against her chest; her blood coursed hot through her veins. Robert’s chaste kisses were nothing compared to this, had made her feel nothing compared to this. It was like drowning in chocolate. It was like nothing she had experienced before.

  He teased her lips, nibbled at them, sucked at them, then claimed them again, a master at seduction although she couldn’t say he seemed to know that. It was as if he was at the mercy of his emotions, just as she was, and just as helpless to fight them.

  Amelia leaned into his solid strength. He pushed her back, not away from him, but toward the bed behind them. She went with a willing heart. She went without thought or doubt. She went without guilt.

  A moment later her knees met with the end of the bed and she tumbled backward. Scrambling up upon her elbows, she stared up at him. His eyes still glowed with blue light. His broad chest rose and fell inside a nightshirt that once belonged to her husband. He wanted her; there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes as they raked her from head to toe. He took a step toward her, looked as though he’d join her upon the bed, but suddenly he stopped himself.

  As if night had slipped into day, darkness into light, he blinked and stepped back from her. “What in the hell am I doing?” he asked in a husky voice. He glanced around as if he tried to recall where he was, who he was, and perhaps who she was, as well. His gaze strayed to the broken door joining her room to the master suite. He closed his eyes for a moment before he glanced back at her.

  “Forgive me. I had no right.” That was all he said before he stormed across the room, out, and closed the door firmly behind him.

  Shaken, Amelia stared after him. Good lord, what had just happened? How could she have behaved so brazenly with him when her poor bridegroom wasn’t even buried as of yet? True, Amelia understood that she was a sensual creature. She’d been much more interested in the wedding night than she thought poor Robert had been.

  She’d shocked her intended once by putting her tongue into his mouth when he’d finally gotten up the nerve to kiss her, but even she had not behaved with him as she’d just done with Gabriel Wulf.

  Amelia covered her face with her hands. Perhaps she was mad. She could no longer trick her mind into believing everything that had happened since last night was a dream. If she were dreaming of Gabriel Wulf just now, he would not have walked away from her. Instead he would have slipped into bed with her and made her a woman. What was she supposed to do now? Amelia couldn’t hide upstairs all day. Decisions had to be made. Realities must be faced.

  There was only one thing that she could do. Dress and go downstairs. The only thing worse than having to face Gabriel Wulf again would be forcing herself to go to the root cellar and view Robert’s body. But she must. To accept that Lord Collingsworth was truly gone, she must see him for herself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gabriel had made a halfhearted attempt to eat. Manners dictated that he wait for Lady Collingsworth to join them, but he sure as hell did not have manners. He’d thought he’d be starving, since he’d eaten little in the past week while making his way home, yet his hunger was not for food. It was for her. The woman upstairs. Damn, what was happening to him? He was a man used to having control of his emotions, control of his life. Suddenly he had control of neither.

  He caught her scent before she appeared in the dining room. Her perfumed soaps masked it for the most part, but beneath the perfume, she smelled of woman’s musk and hot promises a man could not ignore. Gabriel must ignore them.

  The girl, Mora, sat across from him, looking out of place at the dining table. They had not conversed beyond general civilities. Once Lady Collingsworth entered the dining room, Gabriel rose, as had been taught him at one time when manners had still mattered. The lady looked lovely in a blue sprigged muslin gown. She’d swept her long hair up in some semblance of a fashionable hairstyle, if it looked a bit haphazard and portions of it were already falling down her back.

  He had no idea what had happened upstairs. Why he’d behaved as he had. Why he had dreamed of this woman before. Why he had nearly lost control with her. Why he’d given into the impulse to kiss her—the widow of his childhood friend, not even buried as of yet. Gabriel had wanted to do more than kiss her. Much more.

  “Sorry I’m late,” the lady said, seating herself. “Have we decided anything?”

  She was good at pretending as if nothing untoward had happened upstairs between them. She didn’t even blush. Gabriel decided to follow her example. “No,” he answered, reclaiming his chair. “I still think we must somehow forge ahead to Wulfglen, where the two of you will be safer.”

  “We can’t leave,” Mora whispered, lifting her big eyes to the both of them. “Not with the beasts waiting for us out in the woods. They’re planning something, mark my words.”

  Lady Collingsworth placed a napkin in her lap and turned toward the girl. “Wolves do not plan,” she said. “I have decided that our imaginations got the better of us last night. Today, we will approach our situation with rational thought. Perhaps it would be best if we left Collingsworth Manor and forged ahead to Wulfglen.”

  “Gives them the advantage,” Mora mumbled softly. “Forgive my forwardness, my lady, but I believe we’d all be safer staying put. Maybe they will go away now.”

  Studying the girl, Gabriel picked up his spoon and contemplated the porridge sitting before him. “What makes you believe so, Mora? Why would they suddenly just go away?”

  The girl was obviously uncomfortable being the center of attention. She squirmed a little in her chair and tugged her bonnet down around her face. “Because of Vincent,” she answered. “I think he was one of them. Since he did not get whatever it was he wanted from the lady, maybe they will all go away now.”

  Gabriel glanced at Lady Collingsworth for a reaction. Her face paled and her hand strayed automatically to the scratches upon her neck. “What he wanted was obvious,” she said. “He wanted me to believe that he was Lord Collingsworth so that I would submit to him.”

  Leaning forward, Gabriel rudely placed his elbows upon the ta
ble, although he knew better. “If you believed he was Robert, why did you not submit to him? Why did you scream? Why did you fight him?”

  Lady Collingsworth’s face bloomed with sudden color. So, she could blush after all. “The man was hurting me. He kept laughing … only, his voice did not sound … human.”

  “I told you so,” Mora said softly. “I am convinced he was one of them.”

  Since Mora had spoken up, Gabriel had a few questions he wanted her to answer. “How did Vincent get into the house? I checked the locks myself while searching for Lord Collingsworth. Everything had been bolted up tight.”

  The girl shrugged. “I’m assuming through the root cellar. There’s a door leading to the outside. I didn’t think about anyone coming in that way. Truth is, I relaxed my guard a little since the young lord had returned. I was more than happy to let him decide how to keep both me and the lady safe.”

  What Mora said made sense. Robert was found in the root cellar. He’d probably heard something down there and gone to investigate. “Did you tell Lord Collingsworth that wolves that could turn into men had frightened the other staff and field workers away?”

  Suddenly Mora’s eyes filled with tears. She shook her head. “Was afraid he’d think I was touched and turn me out. I should have told him right away. I should have warned him. He’s dead now because I didn’t.”

  The girl seemed generally distraught over the situation. Gabriel had no idea how to comfort her. He wasn’t used to dealing with women and their tendency to weep. To his surprise, it was Lady Collingsworth who rose from her chair and went around to the girl, placing a hand upon her shaking shoulder.

  “It is not your fault, Mora,” she said. “Lord Collingsworth, well, I’m sorry, but he wouldn’t have believed that tale any more than I do. I don’t know what is going on, but it isn’t your fault.”

  The girl shyly touched Lady Collingsworth’s hand. “Bless you for saying so, my lady.” The servant looked as surprised by Lady Collingsworth’s show of kindness as Gabriel felt.