The Cursed One

by Ronda Thompson

  “You?” he said drily. “And you look like such an angel.”

  Amelia was not an angel. She had a very wicked side. They both might die at any moment and she was still harboring indecent thoughts about Gabriel Wulf. Still wondering things she should not be wondering. Like what it would feel like if they were both naked right now.

  “How are we going to get out?” she asked. That was what she should be thinking about.

  Slowly, he rolled off of her. He sat, although the den roof was hardly tall enough for him to do so. “I’m going to dig us out,” he answered.

  Gabriel knew there wasn’t much air trapped with them in the den; he also knew Amelia was on the verge of panic. He had to proceed quickly but carefully, since he wasn’t sure how long the roof over them would hold before it came crashing down on them. He slid slowly along the damp, packed dirt of the hollowed-out den to where the dirt had crumbled in on them from the opening. Above, he still saw a portion of light, although the opening was now much smaller than it had been when they had climbed inside last night.

  There were no tools he could use to shovel, so he had to use his hands. He set to work. Amelia’s growing panic was a palpable force inside the small den. Without anything to distract her, she was reacting to her childhood fear of being locked inside somewhere she couldn’t get out. Gabriel thought conversation would keep her distracted, although he wasn’t usually a talkative man.

  “Tell me more about your family,” he said to Amelia.

  He thought she wouldn’t answer, that fear had taken over her and robbed her of the ability; then she said, “They are typical. Father and Mother married because they were a good match. They seem content enough with one another. My brother is three years younger than me. I miss them.”

  Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. Amelia looked very small and frightened, like a little girl, although he knew for certain that she was not a little girl. He was much too aware of her physically.

  “I miss my brothers, as well,” he admitted. “We are closer than most, maybe because for some time now, we’re all each other has had.”

  Damn, he had never admitted anything so personal to a woman. It was the circumstance, Gabriel assured himself. He had to continue a conversation in order to keep her from panicking and possibly putting them in more danger.

  “Well, I never thought it was fair,” she said. “The way society judged your family for something your parents did. The way they always quickly jump to the worst conclusions. Like when that girl was found dead in the stable of your family townhome. Everyone naturally assumed Lord Wulf was responsible.”

  Focusing on his slow digging, he said, “We are many things, but we are not murderers.” Then he recalled that he and Armond both had worried that Jackson might be in some way connected to the woman’s death. Only because of the timing of the murder and the fact that Jackson had been in London and then later, when another murder occurred, he’d been in London again. Gabriel realized he was wrong to think for one moment Jackson would be tied to hurting a woman. Jackson loved women and they loved him.

  “Are you bitter?”

  Her question surprised him. And confused him a little. “Bitter about what?”

  “Being denied your right to rub elbows with those of your station? Being forced to live in the shadows of society? I think I would be.”

  Gabriel kept digging. Was he bitter? “I’ve never cared to be part of society. Most of them are silly and shallow. Lazy and conceited. No, I am not bitter.”

  She made a huffing noise. “But you are judgmental. You can’t judge everyone by the actions and opinions of a few.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Of course I can,” he told her. “Especially when the society you defend are like sheep being herded by dogs. They cannot think for themselves; they have to be told what to believe and what opinion they should have upon every matter and every person.”

  “That is not true,” she argued. “I like to think I am my own person, that I am free to form my own opinions. And to express them,” she added. “If you judge all by what you believe about a few, you are just as guilty of being a snob.”

  She was opinionated, obviously, and Gabriel found the trait attractive about her. And he supposed she was right and he was judgmental. Perhaps a little jaded. He had thought to put her in a category along with how he assumed most ladies of her station were, but she was in a category by herself. Truth be known, he could not be a proper judge of ladies of her “station” anyway. He’d never spent much time around them. He supposed he was a hypocrite. None of the things he admitted to being was worse than what he truly was. Cursed.

  He’d dug his way to the smaller hole, the dirt that had caved in, actually making reaching it less difficult than it normally would have been. Carefully, he began to widen the hole. It didn’t take him long to widen the space enough so that he could climb out. He poked his head out and glanced around. He didn’t see Mora anywhere, and luckily, he didn’t see any unwanted company.

  “Amelia, I am going to crawl out. You come out behind me in case I need to help you.”

  Allowing her to go first would be better, but Gabriel knew that climbing back down might start the cave-in all over again.

  “I’m frightened,” she whispered. “What if the dirt starts caving in again? I could be trapped here alone.”

  “That isn’t going to happen,” he assured her, and hoped he was right. “Just be careful when you’re climbing out. Try not to rush yourself.”

  “Anything to get out of here,” she said, and he was relieved she showed both courage and determination in the face of her fear.

  Gabriel shimmied out of the hole. The ground around the opening was unstable at best. It felt heavenly to breathe in air that wasn’t coated by dirt. He lay on his stomach, looking down into the hole.

  “All right, come on, Amelia,” he instructed. “Nice and slow.”

  Below, he saw her appear. She looked up at him, her face a pale oval in the darkness.

  “Crawl up on your belly,” he instructed her. “Just move slowly and carefully.”

  She started out that way; then, as if her fear had taken hold of her, she crawled so quickly toward the top that the dirt began to crumble around her again. Gabriel lunged forward and grabbed her arm; then he was pulling her out, rolling away from where the ground began to cave in around them. In a matter of seconds, the den caved in entirely.

  Amelia gasped for breath beside him. They both sat and stared at the place that might have become their grave. They were coated with dirt, but they were alive.

  “You saved my life,” she whispered. “Again.”

  He reached out and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “Let’s find Mora.” He rose and extended a hand to help her up.

  It was odd, but any time they touched, a strange tingling coursed through him. A current. He helped her to her feet, and together they walked toward the pond. They spotted Mora a moment later, sitting by the water’s edge.

  She glanced up as they approached. Her eyes widened and she placed a hand against her heart. “I thought the both of you were dead,” she said. “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go back to Collingsworth Manor.”

  “We’re all right,” Amelia assured the girl, brushing dirt from the skirts of her serviceable dress. “We couldn’t call out for fear it would cause more dirt to cave in upon us.”

  Mora looked shamefaced. “I was afraid to stay there because I thought I might fall in with you. I guess I’m a coward.”

  Gabriel bent beside the girl and washed his dirty hands in the pond. “You could have easily caused a worse cave-in,” he assured her. “You did right to get away.”

  The girl nodded toward the pond. “While I sat here wondering what I should do, I noticed that small hole there where a few fish have gotten in and can’t get out. I was thinking of trying to catch one and eat it.”

  He found that odd, that Mora would be thinking of eating if she was too worried about their f
ate. As if she realized that same thing, she blushed.

  “I had to think of myself,” she said. “How I would survive out here without you and the lady.”

  Amelia bent beside Gabriel. She wrinkled her nose at the green-tinted water, then stuck her hands into the water to wash. “I suppose you were being practical,” she said to the girl. “And you are more levelheaded than most young girls, Mora. It wasn’t as if you could go for help.”

  Mora shook her head. “No, I couldn’t, my lady. Was afraid to venture back into the woods alone.”

  “All’s well that ends well,” Amelia assured the girl. “How would you have eaten a fish had you caught one?” she asked.

  Mora grinned and pulled her potato-peeling knife from her pocket. “Could gut it with this. Have to eat it raw, though.”

  Gabriel saw Amelia blanch. “I hate cooked fish,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine eating one raw.”

  He smiled slightly. “Try,” he said to her before he went in after one.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Gabriel held up a hand to signal Amelia and Mora to stop. He listened, his gaze scanning the trees surrounding them as he tried to identify the sound. There it was again. A creak. A wheel? There was obviously some sort of conveyance coming down the road a few yards to their left. He had decided they would not use the road. If they were being hunted, and he was certain they were, the road would be the logical place to look for them.

  “Why are we stopping?” Amelia whispered behind him.

  “Someone is coming,” he answered. “We’ll move closer to the road and watch.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” she said after a moment’s pause.

  He gave her a look that usually silenced whoever thought to annoy him by babbling at the mouth. As he suspected, it didn’t work on her.

  “Well, I don’t,” she huffed.

  Gabriel motioned them forward. The vegetation grew thicker as they approached the road. The brambles and branches caught at their clothing and hair. At least at his and Amelia’s hair. Mora was wise to have worn her bonnet. He expected Amelia to complain, but she did not, if her expression told him easily enough that she was displeased.

  Her stomach grumbled and he knew he should have forced her to eat raw fish that morning. She had actually gagged and carried on so that he had relented in the end and allowed her to go without eating. She had to be starving. Hell, he was starving and he had managed to make himself eat raw fish.

  Once the road came into view, Gabriel found a place for them to crouch and hide. He didn’t suppose he was lucky enough for whoever it was coming down the road to be one of his brothers, he hoped recently returned from London.

  “Where are they?” Amelia whispered beside him. “I can clearly see down the road and I see no one.”

  His hearing was superior to hers. But he couldn’t explain that to her, not without making her as fearful of him as she was of the creatures that hunted them.

  “Patience is a virtue,” he remarked.

  “I care little about being virtuous,” she countered. “I’d rather have a ride to Wulfglen, a nice hot bath, a fresh change of clothes, and a full stomach.”

  She had him there. Her sauciness made him smile, and Gabriel wasn’t used to being so easily entertained. Amelia’s very nearness stirred him to lust. He had kissed her twice, and he wanted very badly to do it again. His thoughts should not be on what he’d like to do to Lady Collingsworth but focused upon their situation and how to best keep both women alive and from harm’s way.

  They sat in silence. Mora’s stomach grumbled and Gabriel wondered what they would do for food. He could easily catch something, but they would be foolish to build a fire. It would lead those looking for them right to them. He’d gotten the women safely from the house, but without food and shelter, how much longer could he keep them safe?

  Finally a cart being pulled by a man, another walking by his side, came into view. Both men looked like peasants. One walked with a cane; a stick really was all it was. Neither man was particularly big. Gabriel saw no visible signs of weapons, which he knew meant nothing. They looked harmless enough … but looks were often deceiving.

  “There they are,” Amelia whispered, her eyesight only now able to make out the cart and the two men. “Do you think they might help us?”

  “They have no horses,” he said, disappointed. “I doubt they have anything to spare. I can’t see where they could help us. Best to just let them move on past.”

  “Not help us?” she echoed, her big blue eyes widening. “Why wouldn’t they help us? Three men are better than only one when it comes to protection. We could offer to pay them if they accompany us to Wulfglen.”

  She had a twig in her hair and he loosened it for her. “We would have to tell them what we are running from,” he pointed out. “I imagine they would think we are all mad, don’t you?”

  “’Spect if they are from around these parts, they might not be so surprised,” Mora offered. “And they are peasant folk, which is plain to see. They’ve probably grown up on the same stories I grew up on. They believe in strange tales easier than most.”

  “Maybe they at least have some food they could spare,” Amelia piped up. “Anything. I promise I won’t complain.”

  The hope in her eyes was his undoing. She was hungry, Mora was hungry, and Gabriel felt incompetent to take care of them properly. He’d never had to take care of anyone but his younger brother before. Certainly not two females. Gabriel had a few coins in the purse stuffed inside his pocket. When he’d set out to search for Jackson, he’d never imagined it would take him as long as it had or be as expensive.

  “All right,” he agreed. “But I go alone. You two stay here in the brush, hidden. Understood?”

  The women nodded and he rose from his crouching position, his thigh aching from all the pushing he’d done last night and earlier today. He’d pulled Mora’s stitches open, but he wouldn’t tell her. They had worse things to worry about.

  Gabriel walked out on the road and started toward the men. They drew up when they saw him, looking wary as he approached. He let his hands hang down by his sides so they could see he wasn’t armed, if the pistol still rested in the waistband of his trousers beneath his shirt.

  “Good afternoon,” he called.

  Neither man spoke, but neither did they suddenly draw weapons, so Gabriel continued toward them.

  “I’ve had a mishap,” he called. “My horse threw me and I’ve been walking for two days. I wondered if you could spare any food?”

  Both men looked at each other. “Can you pay?” one called.

  “I have a little, not much,” he answered. He probably had more than these two would see in a year’s wages, but only a fool would let that fact be known. It wasn’t that Gabriel couldn’t take both men if they tried anything, but he didn’t want to fight in front of the women if it could be avoided.

  “How much you got?” one of the men asked when he drew closer.

  “That would depend on what you have to spare,” Gabriel answered.

  Both men walked to the back of the cart. “Taking supplies to our families,” one said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have much. But if you’ve got coin to pay for what you take, I suppose we can replace it easy enough.”

  Gabriel might have been relieved, but he didn’t plan to let his guard down until an exchange was made and the men were out of eyesight. They threw a tattered canvas back and displayed their supplies. There was more in the cart than he would have suspected.

  “Got big families,” one of the men grumbled. “Break our backs to feed them all.”

  Most of the supplies Gabriel couldn’t use. Flour, sugar, things for baking that would do them little good. “I need something to tide me over until I reach my home,” he specified. “Do you have dried beef? Bread? Cider?”

  “Where might your home be?” one of the men asked.

  Gabriel wasn’t about to tell them. Most had heard of the Wulf brothers. If the scandal attached to their
names didn’t make the men shy away, the wealth attached to the name would make them greedy.

  “Three or four days out maybe,” was all he provided. “Never walked it before, so I’m not certain how much longer.”

  “All alone, are you?” one man asked, his gaze scanning the area.

  Gabriel’s senses went on the alert. “Yes,” he answered.

  “Not a good thing,” the other said, smiling at him. “These roads are dangerous for a lone man.”

  “Especially one turned out as fine as you are,” the other added. “Plain to see you’re not of the working class. A London dandy would fare worse than most on the road alone.”

  Both men chuckled. Gabriel smiled pleasantly at them. Let them think him a dandy. He glanced down at the supplies again. While he busied himself looking over the fare, he fully expected one, if not both men to try something. He made an easy target in their eyes despite his size. They wouldn’t expect he’d know how to defend himself. They were in for a surprise.

  “Gabriel! Watch out!”

  He glanced up to see Amelia standing in the road. Because of the distraction, he wasn’t ready for the blow when it came. The man with the stick hit Gabriel across the shoulders, aiming for his head, he suspected, but not tall enough to reach. The blow staggered him. The man might be short, but he had strength.

  “Didn’t tell us you had company,” the other man taunted Gabriel. “Now she’s a sight for sore eyes, that one.”

  “Pretty,” the man with the stick said, then swung.

  Gabriel ducked the blow, which was again aimed at his head. He’d once told his brother Armond that the rules of society no longer applied to a family shunned by the ton. Manners were something Gabriel had forsaken some time back, and still, it bothered him to fight in front of Amelia. Gentlemen did not subject genteelbred ladies to such vulgarity, or so he’d once been taught.

  “Hey, there’s another one. One for you and one for me,” the man with the stick chirped.

  Mora must have joined Amelia on the road. Gabriel used the distraction of the women to his advantage, stepping forward to grab the man’s stick. He brought it up and smacked the man hard in the face. The force broke his nose, and blood spurted down his face.