Amelia took a deep breath and began to climb. Dirt crumbled around her as she scurried down the hole. The den beneath was larger than she would have thought; at least she could gather that much from what little moonlight spilled down from above. Gabriel reached out and pulled her to him, and the three of them huddled together on the dirt floor. Due to their close proximity, Amelia gladly shared her mint leaves.
After huddling together for warmth, Gabriel instructed the women to get some sleep. Amelia couldn’t sleep. She was snuggled up against Gabriel, and his hard, strong body did not make a good pillow. He did radiate body heat, though, and for that reason alone she wasn’t tempted to find a more comfortable position. Amelia rested on one side of him and Mora on the other. She could already hear Mora’s soft snores and envied the girl for finding sleep so easily under their current conditions.
“We’ll have to tease her about her snoring tomorrow.”
Amelia jumped. She had thought Gabriel had drifted off to sleep. “A pound says she won’t crack a smile,” she whispered. “Mora doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.”
Gabriel shifted so that he was facing her. “I’ m surprised by yours,” he said. “When I saw you in London, it wasn’t something I would have likened with you.”
Amelia drew herself up on one elbow. “You remember me, then?” The thought pleased her more than it should. She kept forgetting that she was in mourning. It didn’t help that she had never seen Robert’s body. It was as if her mind refused to acknowledge his passing, even though Gabriel had told her that she must.
“Yes,” he finally admitted. “You stuck in my head for some reason.”
Knowing she shouldn’t confess as much, she said, “And you in mine.”
“Not too awfully long,” he said drolly. “You did marry.”
Amelia wondered what else she was supposed to have done? Waited for him? Tried to arrange a chance meeting with him through her friend Rosalind? Begged to be invited to Wulfglen so that she might be around him? “I did what was expected of me,” she clipped. “You’re a man. You have no idea the pressure society and one’s parents put upon a girl about making the right match. I wanted a life of my own. It was the only way I could have one.”
He reached forward and brushed a stray lock from her forehead. “Now what will you do?” he asked.
She fought down both a flush of pleasure from his touch and rising hysteria. Amelia hadn’t had time to think about what she would do. All she had time to think about was what was happening now.
“I don’t really know,” she answered. “I suppose I’ll return to my parents’ home, although it will be awkward. I am a widow, but I have never been a wife.”
Wulf was silent for a moment; then he said, “Young widows, I imagine, are every bit as in demand on the marriage market as young debutantes.”
Amelia supposed he was right, but the realization brought her little comfort. She’d already been through the husband hunt once; she wasn’t that anxious to return to it again.
“Tell me what you know of my brothers and their wives,” he said. “Does all seem well with them? When last I left London in search of Jackson, Armond was having trouble with his wife’s stepbrother. Was the issue resolved?”
Mention of Rosalind’s stepbrother made Amelia shiver. The man had been handsome enough, but he exuded an air of evil that had made Amelia’s skin crawl. “The stepbrother is dead,” she answered. “A house fire. His mother perished in it along with him.”
Wulf’s eyes glittered in the darkness, but that might easily be due to the moonlight spilling in from above. “Too bad for the stepmother,” he commented. “But then, do they seem happy together? Armond and Rosalind?”
“Oh yes,” she assured him. “If I believed in love, I would say they are in it. And Jackson and Lucinda, as well. Rosalind is to have a child,” she informed him. “She hasn’t said anything, but it’s obvious really, even if she chooses gowns that do well at disguising her fuller figure.”
“A child? And Jackson has a son already?”
She didn’t know whether to voice her opinion and the opinion of many regarding Jackson’s son. Why not? Amelia decided. Who knew if either of them would be alive tomorrow? “I don’t think the child is Jackson’s,” she confided. “The babe looks nothing like him, but your brother seems to care for the child as if he were his own, which I suppose is what is most important.”
Gabriel snorted. “I cannot see him in the role. If it were Jackson in this position with two women, he would not be merely sleeping.”
Amelia should act shocked by his insinuation, but she was too tired. She merely said what was on her mind. “I think if a woman doesn’t wish to have a witch put a curse upon her, she will not give Jackson Wulf a second glance these days.”
“Do you believe in such things, Amelia? In witches and curses?”
The use of her given name should upset her, given their short acquaintance, but it did not. Amelia liked him to use the more intimate form of address with her, and she had to admit she liked thinking of him as Gabriel rather than Lord Gabriel. What had he asked her? About witches and curses and if she believed in such things.
“Two days ago, no. Now, I’m not so sure.”
He leaned closer. “Do such things frighten you?”
Again, she was too tired to be anything but honest. “Yes.”
Closer yet he came, his lips nearly brushing hers. “Do I frighten you?”
Peering at him through her lashes, she examined whether anything she felt at the moment might be related to fear. Yes, her heart beat faster, but the reaction did not stem from being afraid.
“Why would I be frightened of you?” she asked. “You are my protector. My best friend is married to your brother. I might be dead, or worse, if not for you. Why do you ask me if I am frightened of you?”
“Regardless of the other things you mentioned, I am a stranger to you.”
How could Amelia tell him that he was not a stranger? That she had memorized his features? That he had visited her in dreams? That she had thought about kissing him long before an opportunity was presented? That she had thought of doing more than kissing him? She couldn’t tell him.
“I suppose you are,” she admitted. “But at the moment, you’re all I have that stands between me and whatever those creatures want.”
He pulled back and settled upon his back, staring up at the moonlight. “Do be honest.”
She giggled over his dry tone and snuggled beside him for warmth. They didn’t speak further, and without the distraction of conversation, Amelia became totally aware of him. Of the slight sound of his breathing, the hard feel of him pressed against her. And his scent. She didn’t always notice it. But she noticed it now and tried to identify what it reminded her of.
Spice. Not as strong as clove, not as sweet as cinnamon, but something in between. The scent curled around her and she found herself wondering if it would feel different to kiss him when his cheeks were smooth rather than whiskered? Would it feel different to have him pressed against her while they were lying down, rather than standing?
“You kissed me when you were walking in your sleep.”
He startled her again. And, good lord, it was as if he knew she was thinking of kissing. “What?” she asked.
Gabriel turned on his side again. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but you came downstairs and you kissed me.”
Amelia was glad it was dark. Her cheeks were suddenly burning. “Are you lying to me? I swear I do not remember anything happening between us.”
“I’ m not lying,” he assured her. “But it was different than when you kissed me upstairs.”
His shifted position brought them closer, or rather, it aligned them in a disturbing way. Body parts against body parts. “I’m thinking it was you who kissed me upstairs,” she pointed out. “And different in what way?”
She supposed his silence meant he was thinking upon the matter. “You lacked … passion,” he finally answered. “It was as if you were only go
ing through the motions.”
It was rude enough to mention the incident if it had indeed taken place, but then to criticize her kissing technique was even worse. “I was asleep,” she reminded him. “And obviously not inspired enough to wake.”
His teeth flashed briefly in the darkness when he smiled. “I didn’t say it wasn’t nice. I merely said it was different.”
“And it’s rude of you to even mention it,” she clipped. Amelia was sorely embarrassed that she would seek him out in her sleep and kiss him. Her defenses lowered, such action spoke of an unconscious desire to share intimacy with him, and he was smart enough to realize that.
“Are you warm enough?”
She was warmer than she had been a moment earlier due to her flush of embarrassment. “I’m fine,” she answered.
“Then we should get some sleep. We have a long trek ahead of us tomorrow.”
The conversation had at least distracted her momentarily from their immediate plight. Amelia wasn’t ready to return to the nightmare her life had become. She doubted she would sleep at all once all the worries began to plague her. She really knew nothing about Gabriel Wulf. Nothing but that he was tall, built rather marvelously, and was as handsome as sin. Nothing but that he could seduce a woman with a kiss and just the smell of him.
She supposed he was gallant. Another man might have fled the situation at Collingsworth Manor posthaste and left her and poor Mora to whatever fate befell them. But he had stayed and defended them. Offered his protection. Led them to safety when the house was set afire. They’d seen no smoke or flames in the distance. Gabriel had remarked that it was probably simply a scare tactic to force them out into the open. Which had worked.
Mora’s soft snores continued. Amelia wished they would lull her into sleep, but she simply lay there and stared up at the moon directly overhead. The chill found her again and she shivered. Gabriel drew her closer. She didn’t pull away. Snuggling closer, Amelia tucked her head beneath his chin. She heard the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear, felt the long length of him pressed against her.
He began to stroke her hair. She hadn’t bothered to do more than pull it back after her bath and now she felt certain most of it had come loose. It was soothing, the stroke of his fingers through her hair, and yet it was disturbing, as well. His strange scent enveloped her. She tried to block it out by holding her breath, but that only made catching it harder once she ran out of air.
Slowly, his hand drifted from her hair down her back. Was she supposed to be going to sleep? If his touch was meant to soothe her into relaxing, just the opposite was taking place.
Amelia was aware of his hand on the small of her back. It drifted a little lower and pressed her against him. She swallowed a sudden lump that formed in her throat. They were hip to hip, and she felt the obvious bulge in the front of his trousers.
He groaned a moment later. His hand fell away from her and he rolled onto his back. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. He stared up at the moon. She lay very still, waiting to see if he would touch her again, but he didn’t. It was as if he’d regained control over what had possessed him to touch her in the first place. A pity, Amelia thought.
Deep down in her wicked soul, she was hoping he’d kiss her again. Maybe hoping to prove to him that she did not lack passion in the least. She had to wonder, since she’d been sleepwalking and had no recollection whatsoever of their encounter, how much advantage he had taken of the situation. It would be just her luck that he had despoiled her and she didn’t recall it. But no, she was certain that had not happened.
There would have been signs, plus he would have said so had things gone beyond a kiss. And Amelia realized she no longer had reason to hold on to her precious virginity. She was a married woman … a widow now. No one would expect her to be chaste. Or would they?
If no consummation had taken place between her and Robert, would she still be able to claim his holdings? A large portion now being the dowry her father had settled upon her. Robert had no living relations; she knew that. He’d once remarked that the men in his family didn’t seem to live to a ripe old age. Poor Robert, neither had he.
Guilt came close to consuming her. Here she was, lying next to another man and wishing he’d kiss her when Robert had not even been laid to rest. While she did not love her husband of one day, she should show him respect.
And she would, Amelia decided. She would not harbor wicked thoughts of Gabriel Wulf until her mourning period was over. But that was a year and would she even live to see tomorrow? The thought of dying a virgin greatly upset her. Well, actually, the thought of dying altogether greatly upset Amelia. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to mourn Robert for a whole year … maybe under certain circumstances a day or two would suffice.
Having fully exhausted her mind, Amelia snuggled up next to Gabriel, wrenching another soft moan from him by doing so, and tried to sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
Gabriel nudged Amelia awake. “We need to get moving.”
She groaned, then groaned again when he sat, taking his wonderful body heat. Mora was already awake, staring up at the hole above.
“How do we get up there?” she asked.
“I’ll heft you up,” Gabriel answered. “See those roots sticking out of the dirt? Grab onto those and pull yourself the rest of the way to the top.”
Amelia was thankful that Mora was going first. She’d need to watch her and see how she proceeded. The servant nodded and allowed Gabriel to heft her up. It was a good thing both Amelia and Mora were slight of build, Amelia thought. Less strain on Gabriel. She knew his shoulder must still ache, since that wound hadn’t had time to heal.
He lifted Mora with little effort. Beneath the sleeves of his now dirty shirt, Amelia saw his muscles bulge. His arms were wonderfully sculpted, she recalled. Everything about him was wonderfully sculpted. Mora strained to reach the roots sticking out of the dirt.
“Test them first,” Gabriel warned. “Be sure they’re strong enough to hold your weight.”
The girl did as he instructed. When she got hold of a root that seemed sturdy enough to support her, she latched on and pulled herself up. A moment later the girl scrambled out of the hole. Her head appeared, staring down at them.
“I want you to help Amelia once she’s close to the top,” Gabriel called up to Mora.
Amelia figured that she could get out as well as Mora had done. The fact that Gabriel obviously didn’t think the same stung her pride. She wasn’t helpless, for God’s sake. But she did want out of the hole, and pointing out his error would only prolong her current discomfort.
“Your turn, Amelia,” Gabriel said.
She crawled to where he knelt. He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her off the ground. Amelia felt his warm breath against the skin displayed by the neckline of her gown. His face was even with her breasts, and her nipples hardened in response. It was embarrassing. How easily he affected her. Amelia wondered if all women reacted to him the same way. Mora didn’t seem affected, but then, Mora was only a girl. Perhaps her woman’s emotions hadn’t yet developed. Amelia wished hers had not.
“Reach,” Gabriel said, and she noticed that his voice sounded huskier than usual.
Amelia tried. She couldn’t. Gabriel’s hands moved down to her hips and he lifted her higher. Her fingers managed to grasp two thick roots jutting from the ground.
Mora reached her arms through the hole. Amelia realized she must pull herself up a little to reach the girl’s hands. She also wondered if Mora would be strong enough to help her out.
An attempt to push herself up using her feet against the damp den wall made dirt suddenly crumble in all around her. The hole above began to disappear. Mora yelped and pulled her arms away. Then Amelia fell. Gabriel caught her and in a jumble of arms and legs he rolled them deeper into the den. He was on top of her and Amelia could hardly breathe, but then, she could hardly breathe anyway, the dirt was so thick in the den. And it was dark. Darker than midnight.
“Are you all right?” he said close to her ear.
“I think so,” she whispered. “Are you?”
“Yes, I’m all right. We need to lie very still until I know nothing else is coming down on top of us.”
Above, they heard Mora call to them. “Don’t answer,” Gabriel warned softly. “You could bring more dirt cascading down on us.”
Amelia hated not answering the girl’s calls, but what else could she do? And what exactly were they going to do? She suspected there wasn’t much air trapped in the small den with them. Just the thought sent panic coursing through her.
“You must relax, Amelia,” Gabriel said against her ear. “Breathe slowly.”
Surely he felt her quickly rising chest—her heart pounding. She did need to calm down, but under the circumstances, she didn’t see how. “I’ll try,” she said. “But I have a problem with small, dark places. My brother once locked me in a dark closet for hours.”
He was silent for a moment; then curiosity obviously got the best of him. “Why did he do that?”
Amelia wasn’t careful with her words. “Because he was a mean little bastard who loved playing the worst pranks on everyone. We were playing hide-and-seek at the time.”
Gabriel surprised her by laughing in her ear.
She tensed beneath him. “I don’t think anything regarding our current situation is humorous,” she said crossly.
Once he stopped laughing, he said, “No. But I’ve never met a lady who drank and cursed and did both so well.”
A blush would be appropriate, but Amelia didn’t bother to summon one. Wulf couldn’t see it anyway. “My brother isn’t so mean now,” she admitted. “And I wasn’t above pulling a good prank or two.”
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