The Cursed One

by Ronda Thompson

  “Do you really think Gabriel would take advantage of you in that manner?” Amelia knew that despite his claims of not being a gentleman, deep down he still was, whether he wanted to be or not. “How could you mistrust him so when he has risked his life for us?”

  The girl, only Amelia must stop thinking of her as a girl, lowered her eyes and chewed upon her fuller lower lip. “I want to trust him,” she admitted. “But I know he lusts for you. What if he turns his lust on me simply because you are a lady and he cannot behave as he wishes with you?”

  Amelia was shocked by Mora’s forthrightness. “Lord Gabriel was once my husband’s good friend,” she said. “I am barely a widow. You mustn’t say such things.”

  Twisting her hair into a knot at the back of her neck, Mora asked, “Why? They are true. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him.”

  Heat scorched Amelia’s cheeks. God, was she so obvious in her attraction toward Gabriel Wulf? Mora placed the ugly bonnet upon her head and transformed back into the plain girl both Amelia and Gabriel had thought she was.

  “You won’t tell him, will you?” Mora asked. “I would feel uncomfortable if he were to regard me as a woman. I feel safer with him while all his manly attentions are focused upon you, my lady.”

  Amelia wasn’t certain she wouldn’t be uncomfortable with Gabriel looking at Mora as a woman, as well. It was a jealous response she had no business feeling. Still, she felt uncharacteristically torn about deceiving him. Amelia moved to the water’s edge to clean up.

  “I won’t tell him for now,” she finally said. “But at some point, you must. It isn’t polite to deceive a man doing his best to protect your life, Mora.”

  Mora settled beside her. “I know, my lady. I will tell him. It really isn’t that important that he know anyway, is it?”

  Amelia supposed it wasn’t that important. The only thing Mora was hiding from Gabriel was that she wasn’t a young girl and that she was a lot prettier than he probably realized. “I don’t guess so,” she admitted. “But still, remember you promised me to tell him at some point.”

  Mora nodded. Shyly she asked, “Will you tell me about your life in London? Were you like a princess there?”

  London and her life seemed like a dream. Amelia shrugged. “No, I was not a princess. But my father is a duke and I do hold a certain standing among my peers. I actually complained often that I thought London life was boring. I would give anything to be that bored again.”

  The girl reached out and patted Amelia’s shoulder. “I think your life must have been grand indeed,” Mora said. “All the balls you must have attended. The lovely gowns made for you to wear. And you are so beautiful. I’m certain you had many suitors chasing after you.”

  Thinking back, Amelia supposed she did have all of those things, but she had never paid much attention to them. She had taken them for granted. She had taken too much for granted. But she didn’t want to think about that. Instead of answering Mora, she said, “Tell me about your life, Mora. You said you are an orphan, but you do have a brother, correct?”

  Mora dipped her hand into the chilly water. “Yes. He’s taken care of me most of my life. Then he said it was time for me to go out in the world and earn my own way. I was glad to get a position at Collingsworth Manor, but then, well, as you know, things did not work out well.”

  The chilly water wasn’t so much invigorating as it was uncomfortably cold. But the conversation was nice. It had never occurred to Amelia to befriend a person of the working classes. Well, why not? Everything else about her life had changed. “I hope we can be friends,” she said to Mora. “I think under the circumstances, we both could use one.”

  “I never thought I’d be a friend to a grand lady,” Mora responded. “I expected to be scrubbing your floors and have you never even notice me.”

  And probably that would have been the case, Amelia admitted, had her life not been irreversibly changed at Collingsworth Manor. “I suppose it is odd how things sometimes work out,” she said, thinking it was also odd that she was in the company of Gabriel Wulf when once she only dared to dream about him. And thinking of Gabriel made her realize they had tarried too long. He’d come looking for them if they didn’t return soon.

  Amelia washed out her mouth and reached in her pocket for a mint leaf to freshen her breath. She offered Mora one; then together they rose and walked back toward where they would sleep for the night.

  They had found a couple of worn blankets in the men’s cart and had taken them. Gabriel had spread them on the ground. He still sat where Amelia had last seen him, although he would have had to move around to position the blankets.

  “We’ll lay on the one and cover ourselves with the other,” he said. “It should at least be warmer.”

  Given the size of the darker shapes the blankets made on the ground, Amelia realized they would have to sleep very close together.

  Gabriel rose. “I’ll clean up before I join you,” he said.

  Mora bent to the task of straightening the blankets, but Amelia watched him walk away. She loved the way the moonlight danced upon the lighter streaks in his hair. His tall shape made a formidable shadow, moving toward the stream. Then she noticed what she thought he was trying very hard to make unnoticeable. He was limping again.

  He’d told Mora the wound to his thigh was mending. He’d said it was fine. Amelia wondered if that was the truth.

  “The bed is ready,” Mora said. “It isn’t proper, the both of us sleeping with a man,” she added in a hushed whisper.

  “It isn’t proper for either of us to be sleeping with a man,” Amelia pointed out. “But it is safer, and he is warm. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  Mora smiled up at her. “He is that,” she admitted. “Puts off a nice heat. Doesn’t make a good pillow, though,” she added.

  Amelia frowned. So Mora had noticed, as well? Amelia climbed beneath the covers. The ground was hard, the blankets probably lice ridden. But she wouldn’t think about that. There were many things she wouldn’t think about, for if she did, she feared she’d start screaming and never stop. Instead, she tried to remember what her life had been like only three days ago. She tried to remember Robert’s face. He’d been rather handsome with his pale complexion and his dark eyes. But every time she brought his features to memory, he would turn into a beast, with claws and fangs and fur.

  She shivered. Mora’s soft snores sounded a moment later. Amelia had never met anyone who could fall asleep as fast as the servant. But then, maybe Mora was used to crawling to her bed exhausted from her work duties, finding sleep easily. Amelia lay awake until Gabriel returned. She scooted over next to Mora to make room for him.

  In the silence, she heard the slight intake of his breath when he bent to crawl beneath the blanket next to her.

  “It’s your leg again, isn’t it?” she whispered. “It hurts more than you are leading us to believe.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Maybe we should rest tomorrow. Allow it—”

  “Go to sleep, Amelia,” he interrupted. “You know we cannot stop. We cannot rest until we reach Wulfglen.”

  She did know that. And she imagined he knew what was best for him. Or she hoped he did. She started to shiver a few moments later. Gabriel reached out and pulled her closer. Amelia snuggled up next to his warmth. He seemed warmer than usual, she noted. Good lord. They were all pretenders. Mora was pretending to be young and plain. Gabriel was pretending his leg was not hurting him. And Amelia was pretending she wasn’t affected by his closeness. His heat. His scent. Everything about him.

  “I didn’t mean that earlier,” he said quietly. “About not caring. I do care what happens to you. I care what happens to Mora. Sometimes not caring is simpler.”

  Amelia agreed with him. Instead of following her feelings for Gabriel Wulf all those months ago, refusing to marry Robert and pursuing what her heart had told her in that moment she saw Gabriel in London, she had done what was simpler. What was ex
pected of her.

  “I’m not who I thought I was,” she said. “Maybe that frightens me more than anything that has happened to me since I arrived at Collingsworth Manor.”

  Amelia was surprised when he ran a hand over her hair. “Seldom do any of us get to be what we really want to be in life. You’re not who I thought you were, either. You have shown amazing strength in light of all that has happened to you. I admire you, Amelia.”

  He admired her? Well, it wasn’t a declaration of love, but then, she kept forgetting, neither of them believed in love. Whatever it was, it was enough to flood her chilled body with sudden heat. It was enough to get her through the night, and in their circumstances getting through the night was all they had.

  “Good night, Gabriel,” she whispered, then snuggled closer to him, allowing his heat to warm her body and his words to warm her heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Gabriel knew he couldn’t continue to hide his worsening condition from Amelia and the girl. He woke covered in sweat. Amelia had turned away from him during sleep, as if she had needed to escape his heat. He’d taken a look at the wound last night by the creek. It was swollen and festering. The wound needed to be lanced and cauterized. He had neither tool nor fire to do either. Their plans had to be changed.

  The women had packed up the camp, what little they had. Amelia had helped without complaint. For the time being, her spoiled life in London had faded to the furthest recesses of her mind. He admired her for that. That she adapted as she had. She was stronger than he thought. She was stronger than she knew.

  “There is a village called Hempshire we might make by nightfall if we move quickly today,” he said to the women. “I thought our original plan of reaching Wulfglen was more important than the delay going out of our way to reach the village would cost us. But now it is important that we reach the village first.”

  Amelia came to stand before him. Her long hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head. She didn’t look the part of a grand lady now, but he couldn’t say she wasn’t still every bit as appealing as when decked out in her finery. In fact, she was more appealing, at least to a man like Gabriel.

  “It’s your leg again, isn’t it?” she repeated the question she’d asked last night. “It’s infected.”

  “What?” Mora now hurried to join them. “You said it was fine. You said—”

  “I know what I said,” he interrupted the girl. “I thought I could hold out until we reached Wulfglen. The wound needs to be lanced, cauterized. There’s a blacksmith there who often shoes my horses. He can do it. And we can get food, horses, or perhaps even a hack of some sort. We’ll be safe there. At least until we set out again.”

  “And you believe we can reach this village before nightfall?” Amelia asked.

  “If we move quickly,” he repeated. “And encounter no trouble along our way.”

  Glancing around, Amelia rubbed her arms in the early-morning chill. “Why haven’t they caught up with us? Why haven’t we seen them? Or at least heard them?”

  Gabriel had been wondering the same thing. It was as if the trouble they had encountered at Collingsworth Manor had stayed there. Why hadn’t the men, creatures, whatever they were, given chase? He wasn’t complaining. He found it odd, is all.

  “I don’t know,” he answered her. “But we’ll count ourselves fortunate and hope our luck holds. Let’s move.”

  Rising from his position on a rotting tree stump, he did his best not to wince with the pain in his leg. That the wound had become infected angered him. Gabriel was supposed to be the strong one. The sensible one. The one in control of his emotions and his situation at all times. At the moment, he felt weak, and he abhorred weakness in anyone, mostly in himself.

  Gabriel’s father had been weak. He’d taken an easy path to end his troubles. Gabriel’s mother, even weaker. They had needed her to be strong for them, to help them, guide them, love them despite what foul blood ran through their veins. Cursed blood. She had abandoned them to make their way alone. Sterling had been weak. Fleeing when he was no more than a boy, running from what none of them could escape. Jackson, with his love for whores and liquor, had been weak. Armond had surprised Gabriel the most. He had thought the two of them were the strongest, at least in will. But Armond had found his weakness. A woman.

  He must resist Amelia’s temptation. He’d admitted things to her he had not admitted to anyone else. He’d felt things for her he’d not felt for anyone else. He couldn’t afford to lose his head given their current predicament. He damn sure could not afford to lose his heart. Not to her, not to any woman. Not ever.

  Nor had he wanted to talk to her last night about his parents. He resented them, Gabriel admitted. He counted them as weak. And if he shared his father’s cursed blood, he had vowed to be nothing like the man. He had in the past not formed much of an opinion about women because he’d never really had to, with the exception of his mother. She had taught him that women lied. Women were not to be trusted with his heart. And as far as hopes and dreams went, he had allowed himself to have none. They seemed silly and unproductive for a man who had no future.

  But Amelia had tempted him to be open with her. He had feelings for her he’d do better to suppress.

  “Are we going?” Amelia asked.

  Gabriel realized he was staring at her. Mora giggled and he shook his head to clear it and headed off toward Hempshire. Amelia carried the blankets, Mora the canvas with their supplies. Gabriel would be doing good to put one foot in front of the other.

  The day passed in agony. It was bad enough to have the leg throbbing as it was, but having to hide his pain was worse. He knew Amelia and Mora would insist they stop if they knew walking had become pure torture for him. By the time the sun began to set, he could no longer hide his limp. Ahead, through the trees, he saw rooftops, smoke rising from chimney stacks. He knew his companions couldn’t see them yet, so he said nothing, but the sight of their destination close at hand kept him going.

  “Shouldn’t we stop and rest?” Amelia asked a while later. “My feet hurt.”

  “Mine, too,” Mora quickly added.

  He kept his teeth clenched and kept walking. He heard Amelia sigh behind him, but she said nothing further. He imagined her feet did hurt, but he knew she’d only raised the complaint for him. He found it somewhat endearing, although he tried not to.

  “Wait.”

  He halted at Amelia’s whispered instruction. He turned to look at her. She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I smell smoke.”

  “Cooking fires and the like,” he assured her. “We’re almost there.”

  She opened her eyes and her face lit up. Damn, she was beautiful. “How long can we stay? Long enough to pay for a bath and a bed?”

  He’d need to send Amelia and Mora off somewhere while the blacksmith tended to his leg. “A bath for sure,” he answered. “There’s a tavern in the village. I’m sure a bath can be bought in one of the rooms upstairs.”

  “Sounds like heaven,” Amelia breathed behind him.

  “A hot meal sounds good,” Mora piped up. “Something I don’t have to chew for two days to swallow.”

  Amelia laughed and even Gabriel found it easier to smile. He was certain they made an odd sight when they entered the village a short time later. Night was quickly falling. He walked with Amelia and Mora to the tavern first. The downstairs was still empty. Patrons would make their way for a pint once they’d had their suppers at home. The man polishing his scarred bar frowned upon seeing Gabriel.

  “No fighting,” he said before Gabriel could call a greeting. “Just now got the place fixed from last time you were here, Wulf.”

  Gabriel grinned at him. “It wasn’t that bad, Nate. Besides, I paid you more than enough to replace the broken chairs and tables.”

  “That’s true,” the man grumbled. “I suppose you can bust the place up all you want as long as you keep paying more than the cost to fix it back up. Turn a nice profit from you.”

 
; Feeling Amelia’s and Mora’s curious regard, Gabriel turned to business. “I have a couple of ladies with me who’d like a hot bath and a hot meal.”

  “I’ve got both,” Nate said. “Be best to get the women taken care of and out of here before the men start wandering in for a pint.”

  Digging a couple of coins from his pocket, Gabriel slapped them down on the scarred bar. “I trust the ladies will be safe here with you. I need to see Bruin.”

  “They’ll be fine. Bruin is no longer here, though,” Nate told him. “Took his family and disappeared a few days ago. Got a new man. Seems all right. A lot of new faces around here since last you visited.”

  Gabriel turned to the women. “You’ll be all right here until I get back. Take your baths and have a hot meal. Just in case.” He withdrew the pistol from the back of his trousers and slid it into Amelia’s pocket.

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Are you sure we shouldn’t come with you? Is there not a physician here who could look at your leg?”

  He shook his head. “No, the blacksmith is the best I’ll be able to do. You and Mora stay here until I return for you. Understand?”

  “But—”

  “You said you would follow my instructions,” he reminded her.

  She lifted a brow, perfectly arched and just a shade darker than her blond hair. “Out there, I said I would obey you. And that was a lie even when I said it.”

  He tried not to smile. “Stay here,” he said to both women. Gabriel limped from the tavern.

  The blacksmith’s barn was at the end of the road. There were horses in a corral out back, Gabriel noted. Good. He didn’t have much coin, but perhaps even a small deposit on a horse and cart would be enough. If Bruin still lived in the village, Gabriel knew it would be. He’d done business with the man often, had even visited his cottage on occasion when he’d had to go and fetch the man.