by Abby Gordon
“You have dangerous beasts?” Bettina gasped, a hand fluttering to her throat. “And you let them roam free?”
“The most dangerous beast is not on four legs,” Lord Wulfgar told her, noting the startled look on Amanda’s face. The immediate fear turned to something more like a memory. Interesting. There was more to this maid than meek submission to her family. “But the beast within us all.” He saw Amanda trying to conceal a yawn and smiled. “It’s time we all retired. Mrs. Anders? Please assist Maid Amanda.”
Sharp blue eyes saw Amanda’s start of surprise. She knew that the housekeeper should have been detailed to the senior woman in their party. Amanda recalled how she had been served tea immediately after Lord Socton, and wondered at the protocols adhered to in the manor. Without a word though, she stood and dropped a curtsy to her host.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said softly. “It was a delicious dinner.”
“Good night, Maid Amanda,” he replied in a low deep voice.
Chapter Three
With economical motions, Amanda dressed quickly in her soft flannel nightgown. Shivering slightly despite the fire with the additional log Mrs. Anders had added, she climbed quickly onto the bed and slid under the covers to say her prayers. She turned down the lamp and closed her eyes, hearing the fierce wind beyond the shuttered windows. The constant company of her stepmother and the fear of being lost in the blizzard had drained her emotionally and she quickly fell asleep.
From the depths of her dream, she saw her room. The large log had caught fire and burned with a steady glow, offering just enough light for her to see the shadow of the door as it opened. She couldn’t move, though she knew she should call out. The door closed softly and a tall shadow approached her. Stunned, she recognized the broad outline of Lord Wulfgar’s shoulders. Without a word, he lifted the blankets and climbed into bed with her. His eyes held hers for a long moment before he reached out and pulled her to him. The heat of his muscular body spread through her as her head rested on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and slept in his embrace, safe and warm.
“Good morning, miss,” the maid said cheerily as she entered the room.
Waking abruptly, Amanda glanced about in confusion. It had to have been a dream, yet she could still feel the warmth of his body against hers. The maid chattered about the severity of the storm as she opened the curtains. Amanda could see the thickness of the flakes swirling violently in the wind. They would not be leaving today as her father had hoped. Amanda bit her bottom lip, wondering at the joy in her heart. She would be able to see more of the Beast whose home they had invaded.
****
After breakfast, Wulfgar took them to the library. Aaron and Bettina sneered at the books, but Heinrich eagerly explored the shelves and found a manuscript of an historical legal treatise. With delight, he carried it to the loveseat before the fireplace. Wulfgar ignored the belittling comments of Bettina and Aaron and sat at his desk, instinctively aware of Amanda’s movements. Like her father, she had been quiet through breakfast. Wulfgar had returned her curtsy and greeting with a bow, noticing the blush that spread across her cheeks. A flicker of comprehension crossed his mind, but was quickly dismissed.
Now, having eaten nearly as little as she had the night before, Amanda explored the library shelves. Returning to the leather chairs around the fireplace, she passed the piano. Wulfgar saw the look of delight in her expression before she damped it down. He also saw the worried look in her eyes when they darted to her stepmother.
“Maid Amanda, do you play?”
“Once, my lord,” she replied, her fingers brushing the top. “But not in many months.”
“If you hadn’t insisted on playing when I had headaches, we wouldn’t have sold it,” Bettina said snidely, with a smug look on her face.
Wulfgar caught the pain in amber eyes.
“Play for me now,” Wulfgar ordered imperiously.
“Now?” she whispered, glancing again at her stepmother.
“Now,” he replied firmly, rising and joining her at the instrument.
He pushed the cover from the keys and pulled the stool back.
“I would disturb your work.” She shook her head, taking a step away.
But he saw the look of longing in her eyes and took her small hand in his, enveloping her hand with warmth. Heat flashed through his body like a wildfire.
“It would please me greatly,” he stated, managing to retain his self-control. Considering his inner animal demanded that he throw her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs, he thought he was doing very well. “My mother often played while my father went over accounts. He said it was the only thing that made them bearable.” A smile flashed across her face. “It would please me,” he repeated quietly, knowing it was also the only way the beast in him would stay civilized.
“What would you like me to play?” she acquiesced.
“Whatever you wish,” he replied, gesturing to the stack on the table to the left of the stool.
Nodding, she seated herself and picked up the first piece. Opening it, she set it against the stand, eyes scanning the notes.
“Please remember, it has been some time,” she reminded him, tilting her head to look up at him.
“I will enjoy it,” he assured her, warmth in his eyes.
For an hour she played, her fingers warming to the task. Bettina had started to complain of a headache but was brusquely told by her host to leave if she must, but the music was enjoyable to him. With his support, Amanda worked her way through the stack on her left, creating a second stack on the table Wulfgar had placed to her right.
“This one doesn’t have its composer on it,” she commented, picking up the next.
“A nobody then,” Bettina stated with a shrug. “You mustn’t play it.”
Amanda heard the notes in her mind and shook her head.
“He has such a gift,” she murmured, setting the music on the stand.
Wulfgar’s pencil froze as he heard the first notes. He’d written it five years earlier in an effort to express his loneliness. He’d never drawn from the notes the emotion she gave them. Catching his breath, he looked at her face. Could she understand what he felt?
“No,” shouted Bettina. “You will not play something that has not been played at court.”
The woman flew across the room and pulled the paper off the stand before Amanda could stop her.
“This is scandalous. Totally improper.”
“No.” Amanda rose and caught her arm. “This is by someone who wrote of his pain. His search for solace…”
“You know nothing…”
“Cease,” ordered Lord Wulfgar, standing.
Amanda froze, eyes wide with fear as she looked at him. Bettina twisted out of her grasp and darted for the fireplace.
“No,” gasped her stepdaughter, panic on her face as she rushed forward.
Wulfgar sprang from his desk and gripped the woman’s wrist as she drew her arm back to fling the papers into the fire. Amanda caught up with them and pried Bettina’s fingers one-by-one from the sheets of music. Stepping back, she clutched them to her breast. Wulfgar glanced at Heinrich who had not moved during the entire event.
“Perhaps, sir,” Wulfgar spoke, volumes of contempt in his voice. “You would take your wife to your room to prepare for luncheon.”
“Of course, my lord,” Heinrich agreed, rising.
He hurried forward and put an arm around his wife’s shoulders, guiding her quickly away. Distracted from his indolent study of the flames, Aaron had watched the episode with interest. Now, Wulfgar saw a cunning glint in his eyes before the younger man yawned and stood.
“Think I’ll go change myself,” he commented, following the couple out.
Before the door closed, Wulfgar could hear Bettina recover her voice as she berated her husband for not defending her from the younger man. Snorting in derision at the thought, the baron looked at Amanda. She had returned to the piano and was smoothing the rumpled sheets.
Slowly, wondering if she had meant what she’d said about the music and its composer, he crossed the room, coming up behind her. Recalling Aaron’s inspection of the objects in the grand hall, Wulfgar wondered what he was plotting in regard to his younger sister. Was he one of the many young men who attended one of the capital’s universities only to end up in debt? Was Aaron wondering if he could push his sister into a relationship with a baron in the hopes of securing a benefactor? Aaron might assume that Wulfgar would pay his debts to prevent a scandal in the family.
Wulfgar frowned. They are still her family, he thought firmly, resolving to maintain some distance. His own family was complicated enough to deal with without adding the mix of Amanda’s. And where, he wondered, had that idea come from?
You thought of that all by yourself, the beast told him. But I like it. The full moon approaches.
Clenching his jaw, he ground his teeth. He was alone with her. He was the lord of the lands and his word was law. All he had to do was reach out and make her his.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she whispered, sensing his presence. “Bettina doesn’t like music much.”
“I don’t think it’s the music,” he replied, surprised at the sudden insight into the dynamics of the family. Aaron and Bettina were in competition for Heinrich’s approval, uniting in the effort to ensure Amanda received nothing. This meant Aaron might enlist Bettina in his efforts to push his sister literally into Wulfgar’s arms. “But the attention you receive when you play it.” Startled at the notion, she looked up and he saw the tears in her eyes. Fury at the other woman vied with the sudden urge to hold her and keep her from feeling any such pain again. Take the maid, leave the rest to die in the storm was the advice of the beast. How much will she grieve considering how they treat her? He wouldn’t do that. Would never hold a woman with the intent to comfort again. He had vowed long ago to never feel such things again. But he could speak comforting words. That would be different, he rationalized. “Surely you realized she is jealous of you?”
“Of me?” Amanda stared at him. “Why would she be jealous of me? She’s everything that is fashionable—blonde, blue-eyed, voluptuous, witty, and vivacious. I’m just a little brown mouse who can’t say two words for herself.”
“Really?” he smiled. “You just said considerably more than two. And you’re not a little brown mouse, Amanda. Your eyes are like smoky topaz with swirls of color. Your skin is like smooth, fresh cream. And your hair is like the wing of a bird in flight.”
Wulfgar saw her eyes widen in wonder and couldn’t believe that no one at court had said such things to her. Were they all well and truly fools there?
“My lord,” she whispered, dropping her gaze. “You shouldn’t say such things to me.”
“No?” he murmured. A hand caught her chin and lifted her face. “Perhaps, but I’ve never believed in not speaking the truth. And my words are true.”
Abruptly he released her chin and left the library.
****
At dinner, Bettina again made disparaging remarks about their host’s lack of civility in not offering them wine. Aaron joined her with reckless abandon. Heinrich straightened in his chair bristling at their behavior.
“Bettina, Aaron, a bit more graciousness to our host,” he suggested with pointed looks at each of them.
The baron saw Amanda’s startled glance at her father’s words. From her expression, he wondered if it was so unusual for him to say anything to restrain the crude pair. Not that it worked. If anything, his words spurred the two on even further. Wulfgar noted the man’s efforts, however weak and ineffectual, and wondered if the lawyer finally wearied of playing the doting husband. He also noted that Amanda, again, barely ate more than a few bites of each course.
Mrs. Anders appeared with the teacart. Again she served her master first, followed by Amanda. Bettina finally noticed her actions and began a harangue on that.
“Really, what do your servants think they’re doing?” she sneered. “It isn’t at all the done thing to serve an unmarried woman before her father’s wife.”
“Mrs. Anders has a very fine sense of class and precedence,” Wulfgar replied mildly, seeing Amanda’s topaz eyes fly to his face. “Maid Amanda, is your tea to your taste?”
“It is, milord,” she nodded, sipping. “A bit sweeter than last night, with a touch of cinnamon,” she observed, smiling at the housekeeper. “It’s delicious, Mrs. Anders.”
“Thank you, miss,” she beamed, setting Bettina’s cup down. “It’s my own concoction. Would you like it for breakfast?”
“Whatever you suggest,” she replied. “I’ll trust your recommendation.”
“I’ve just the thing in mind,” she nodded, with a look of firm approval and respect.
Finishing her tea, Amanda rose, noticing that only Lord Wulfgar also stood with her.
“A most excellent dinner again, my lord,” she murmured softly, curtseying. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to retire now.”
“Of course,” he nodded, seeing the flush cross her cheeks. “Good night.”
****
Amanda donned her flannel nightgown, lowered the flame in the lamp, and climbed into bed. She soon fell asleep.
In her dreams, Lord Wulfgar again came into her room and joined her in the bed. This time though, one arm went under her shoulders, holding her firmly. The other hand went to the buttons of the nightgown’s bodice and slipped them through the holes. In the glow of the fire, she stared up at his face. His gaze was intent on the last of the buttons. His hand came up and folded the material back, exposing her pert breasts. As his rough palm covered one, she gasped. Her body trembled as heat rushed through her, connecting her breast to below her belly. She felt something inside her tighten, aching as if empty. He held her still, not letting her roll away. For a moment, they lay like that until her body stilled.
He felt her relax, and began to fondle the soft mounds. His hands were large and warm. His fingers callused from hours of sword training as well as his own efforts in maintaining his estate. Strong and lean, they played gently on her delicate skin. The pad of his thumb brushed over each nipple, teasing them until they peaked. He raised up over her and saw her stunned gaze before lowering his head.
Her breath caught in her throat as his mouth replaced his hand. Like a babe at his mother’s breast, he suckled at her nipples. Unable to resist, she surrendered. Her fingers combed through his hair, holding his mouth to her. Her upper back arched off the bed. She was so caught up in the heat of his lips and tongue on her breasts that she wasn’t aware of what his other hand was doing. Only when the smoothness of the sheet brushed against her bare leg did she realize. Her nightgown was bunched around her waist and his hand was at that most intimate of places. The heat of his palm spread through her core and she felt as if her body was awakening. A fire stirred in her.
“Milord?”
Her whisper couldn’t have been heard by anyone beyond the bed, but the man touching her did. He lifted his head, her nipple popping from between his lips. The fire in his pale blue eyes burned across her flesh and melted the last resistance in her limbs. He must have seen the surrender in her eyes.
“Beloved,” he murmured.
The tip of a finger probed along the moist skin between her legs. She moaned and her legs spread to ease his way. His touch affected more than her body. Something in her mind stirred to life and she caught a glimpse of what she could do, who she could be, and what this man could be. He must have felt the quiver sweep through her body as he found the tight bundle of nerves. With his clever, knowing fingers, he stroked her. With his hot mouth, he feasted on her breasts.
Amanda’s mind reeled under the sensations his caresses left in their wake. Her legs trembled, feeling heavy even as they stirred restlessly. A fire built in her belly until she thought it would consume her. The heat drew tighter, like a coil ready to be released. Every brush of his hand, everywhere his mouth went, added to the flames that threatened to engulf her. H
is finger slipped inside her pussy, teasing. His thumb circled that bud one last time. The fire suddenly roared through her and she cried out, bowing off the bed before collapsing against him. Whispers in her ear soothed her as he smoothed her nightgown down around her loose limbs and slowly refastened the buttons.
She slept in his arms, curling against him with her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart drummed through her mind.
Chapter Four
On waking the next morning, Amanda sat up and looked behind her at the pillows. There was only the indentation where her head had just been. She wrapped her arms around her bent legs and rested her cheek on her knees. What a wanton she was becoming! She didn’t even know of such things and now she was dreaming them. And her host was doing them to her. She just couldn’t face him, she decided. It would be too difficult. He was very perceptive and seemed to sense her feelings even before she did. She would not go down to breakfast.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t reckoned on Mrs. Anders.
Bustling in with a motherly smile, the woman handed her a cup of tea.
“It looks like the worst of the storm blew through last night,” she said, going to open the curtains.
Sipping the tea, Amanda felt a sudden depression grip her heart. That meant they’d have to leave.
“However,” the woman continued, “his lordship said he wouldn’t be surprised if another storm started up by mid-afternoon.”
Hope surged through Amanda.
“Is that normal?”
“Perfectly,” smiled the housekeeper, her keen eyes missing nothing. “Now, which dress would you like to wear?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she sighed, leaving the bed.
The thought of wearing another of Bettina’s second-hand dresses depressed Amanda even further.
“How about this nice green one?”
“Green? I don’t have any green dresses.” Amanda frowned, staring at the four dresses in the wardrobe. They looked to be of the latest fashion in silk and satin with bits of lace. Of rich green, blue, dark pink, and a sunny yellow, they were perfect for her. “Where did those come from?”