Unleashed

by Abby Gordon

  “The maids had little to do during the storm, even with four guests,” Mrs. Anders smiled, quite enjoying her look of amazement. “So, with his lordship’s approval, they made these.”

  “With…” Amanda paused, her gaze going from the four dresses to the older woman. “Lord Wulfgar…he approved this?”

  “Of course. He suggested the green material,” came her pert reply. “He said it would be fit for a princess with lace around the neck and cuffs.”

  “Then I shall wear the green,” smiled Amanda, her fingers brushing over the soft wool. “They’re beautiful, Mrs. Anders. The girls are very talented.”

  “They’ll be delighted to see you wearing them,” Mrs. Anders told her happily. “Now, let’s get you dressed, shall we?”

  In the new green gown that skimmed her hourglass curves, Amanda braided her hair and wound it around her head like a crown. Mrs. Anders smiled in approval as she left the bedroom.

  ****

  In the breakfast room, Wulfgar sensed her approach and turned as Jordan opened the door. Her eyes passed over her father and stepmother, searching for and landing on him. A rosy blush covered her cheeks as she curtseyed.

  “Good morning, milord,” she murmured.

  “Good morning, Maid Amanda,” he replied, going to her. Eyeing her blush, he wondered at the heightened color when she raised her gaze. He noticed she was wearing the green gown and let his eyes appreciate that her body was now shown off properly as he escorted her to the table. “I hope you slept well,” he said politely, seating her.

  “Quite well,” she replied, her blush deepening.

  Sitting down, Wulfgar frowned, considering the tremor in her voice and her heightened response. The beast stirred to life. The dream.

  “I was wondering, Lord Wulfgar,” Heinrich began, setting his coffee cup down. “What your thoughts were on the efforts of the southern lords to resist the king’s decision to increase taxes?”

  “The treasury is depleted because of their rebellion,” Wulfgar replied.

  “Some were saying in the capital that the tax increase is to incite them into rebellion again. To give the king an excuse to crush them completely.”

  Wulfgar considered that as Amanda scooped some fruit onto her plate.

  “If that is the king’s purpose, then his advisors are more drunk on power than I imagined,” he said slowly. “Is there word on what Crown Prince Karl feels?”

  “If that rake feels anything besides concern for where to find a wench for his bed or wine from…”

  “Heinrich!” Bettina gasped, hands fluttering to cover rosy cheeks.

  “Father, please,” Amanda whispered, setting her jaw.

  Wulfgar understood the women’s reactions, but wondered at the anger that snapped in Amanda’s eyes. He noticed that her hand flexed into a fist around the spoon.

  “My lord?” Anders called from the door.

  Turning his head, Wulfgar immediately noticed the man’s anger and agitation. Wulfgar frowned, remembering the last time Anders had looked like that. Years ago, on the eve of battle, with news of a death.

  “Yes, Anders?”

  “A moment, my lord?”

  “Certainly,” he nodded, rising and touching Amanda’s shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  She nodded, clearly nonplussed that he requested her permission. Before Bettina could start in on that slight, he went to the door. Nibbling on her toast, Amanda ignored her stepmother’s scathing remarks on their host’s manners, insulating herself with the memory of her dream and the admiration in Lord Wulfgar’s eyes when he’d seen her in the dress. Something made her look toward the door. Anders was clearly upset about something and that seemed totally out of character for the man.

  Amanda wondered at the harsh expression that suddenly appeared on Wulfgar’s face. He murmured a few words to Anders, who nodded and slipped out of the room. Before the door closed, Amanda heard the butler’s quick orders and several running footsteps. She perceived the urgency behind the tone and the resulting actions. Cold seized her heart. Lord Wulfgar walked steadily toward her, an austere, frozen air in his manner and expression.

  “Is anything wrong, milord?” she asked as he stopped next to her chair. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his hand, opening her mind slightly to pick up his emotions. “Milord?”

  He looked at her with a hard probing stare before going on to Heinrich and Bettina.

  “Where is your son, sir?” he finally said, his tone clipped and cold.

  Her fingers still lightly on the back of his hand, Amanda felt his effort to control a temper that strained to be released. Why did Lord Wulfgar wonder where Aaron was? Her brain refused to consider the question. Unbidden, the three men at the art gallery appeared in her mind. She remembered feeling that Aaron would not survive if they didn’t stop at Gerdenstau. She’d seen him in lying on the ground, flakes covering him in a snowy shroud.

  She shivered, her gaze locked on Lord Wulfgar’s face as he stared at her father.

  “Aaron?” Heinrich frowned. “I’ve no idea, milord. No more than I knew where Amanda was until she entered the room a moment ago.”

  Amanda heard the touch of insinuation in her father’s voice and her gaze went from the man at her side to her father and back. Lord Wulfgar must have noticed that her blush turned pale before looking back at her father. Pale blue eyes studied him as if he didn’t believe the man. As if sensing something of grave importance was afoot, Bettina remained silent as the cold gaze turned to her. Amanda trembled, the dreadful feeling in her heart demanding to be heard, chilling her spine. Aaron was dead.

  “Where is my brother?” she asked, a tightness in her tone.

  ****

  She senses something. She knows something. Wulfgar knew the beast was right, but he had not the time to pursue the matter. Anders appeared at the door with two cloaks in his arms. Behind him, Jordan held two more.

  “My lord,” the butler intoned.

  “Come with me.”

  He pulled Amanda’s chair from the table and drew her to her feet. She rose without protest or argument, just a silent question in her eyes. The hardness in his eyes was replaced very briefly by regret but, as Bettina began railing about being pulled from her breakfast, the severe expression returned.

  Wulfgar took Amanda’s cloak from Anders, settling it around her shoulders before taking his own. Fastening the top three buttons near his neck, he caught Amanda’s eyes on his fingers. A tendril of thought took hold. Deliberately, he reached out, holding her gaze, and buttoned her cloak. The pulse at her throat quickened and her breathing hitched slightly. Yet he still had no time to consider the matter. Something more critical had to be dealt with immediately.

  With a hand under Amanda’s elbow, he lead Heinrich and Bettina down the hall, following Anders and Jordan who were also wearing heavy cloaks and boots.

  “During the night the snow stopped. After a time, the wind ceased to stop the drifting,” he began as they went outside to the swept stone promenade. He sensed Amanda’s hesitation and saw the way she hunched under her cloak. “The grooms and footmen began shoveling the paths. There will be another storm in a few hours. Shoveling before the air freezes is easier.”

  They went down the steps into the garden. He guided them along the path between tall trimmed bushes. Amanda guessed that when not covered by snow they would have been in a sumptuous, perfume-filled rose garden. As her mind tried to prepare itself for what she knew was coming, an image of a soft summer’s day appeared, her walking along the same path and smiling at the brilliant colors around her.

  “It’s freezing now,” Bettina complained.

  “Not everyone feels it anymore,” stated Wulfgar as Anders and Jordan stopped.

  He could see their objective. The two men parted and Amanda gasped. With a sob, she tried to rush forward. Wulfgar caught her shoulders.

  “He’s my brother,” she managed around her tears, turning on him.

  “Was,” came the merciless reply
, unaffected by her twisting efforts to free herself from his grasp.

  Speechless, Heinrich stared at the torn body of his only son. Bettina, for once, was blessedly quiet, stunned at the violent scene before her. Jordan knelt and picked up the saddlebag. Wordlessly, he untied it and began pulling its contents out. Amanda ceased struggling, obviously recognizing objects from the grand entry, the library, and the dining room.

  “No,” she whispered, eyes begging someone to deny the evidence before them.

  Wulfgar felt his heart tug at the pleading expression in her eyes, but only looked at her without a word. Tears flowing down her cheeks, she flung herself against him. His arms went around her instinctively, holding her as anguish wracked her body.

  Moving stiffly, clearly struggling to understand what had happened, Heinrich moved forward and knelt beside Aaron’s body. Grief-stricken, he reached out and closed his sightless eyes. Regaining his feet, he looked at the man holding his daughter. “My lord…” he began.

  “Let us get the women inside,” Wulfgar suggested, as he was already turning to retrace his steps. His arms held Amanda’s weeping and shaking form. “Anders, return the items to where they belong. Jordan, get two or three others to help with the body. Tell Father Wenceslas.”

  “Yes, milord,” they both nodded and moved to do his bidding.

  Heinrich easily guided Bettina after them. His wife seemed to be in shock, and Wulfgar found himself wondering how long it would last. Just inside the door, Mrs. Anders hovered. He saw the sorrow-filled look of compassion on her face as she beheld Amanda’s shaking body.

  “I’ll take care of her, milord,” she offered.

  Nodding, Wulfgar paused, lifting Amanda’s chin.

  “Go with Mrs. Anders,” he told her, wishing he could ease her pain.

  Her fingers clutched the front of his cloak. She shook her head. He bent his head closer as he covered her hands with his.

  “Amanda, trust me,” he murmured. “I’ll come to you as soon as I can. Play the piano for me.”

  As he’d hoped, given something to do, her grip lessened. Gently, he passed her to Mrs. Anders’ solicitous care. When the two women had turned the corner, Lord Wulfgar addressed the man behind him.

  “You had no control over your son,” he stated.

  “No, my lord,” he agreed quietly. “He went to university three years ago. I…it was probably always there, a dissatisfaction with what he had in life, but I didn’t want to see it.”

  “You have no control over your wife.”

  The man flushed at that. Still in shock, Bettina remained docile in his embrace, but they both knew that wouldn’t last.

  “I’ve seen the way you look at my daughter,” he countered. “The way she looks at you. She turned to you, a complete stranger, instead of her father. What relationship do you have with my daughter?” he challenged.

  “A better one than you have with your wife,” Wulfgar fired back. He refused to acknowledge what the words meant to him. The way Amanda looked at him? What kind of relationship did he have with her? The beast howled triumphantly within him. Hope, long-suppressed and forgotten, pushed through the barrier of loneliness in his life. But he still couldn’t attend to it. “You and your wife have been married nearly two years. Why don’t you have any children?”

  “My wife is young.”

  “She is young or you are old?”

  Heinrich’s face reddened at the insult.

  “My wife…”

  “Is in control of your marriage and you don’t know how to deal with her,” came the blunt words.

  Jaw clenched, Heinrich looked at him with eyes suddenly much more like Amanda’s than Aaron’s had been. Wulfgar could see the strength in them, strength the man had given to his daughter. He could understand how, after years of loneliness, Heinrich had married the much younger woman thinking she would care for him and give him joy of more children as his first two grew up and left home. Unfortunately, his indulgence had spoiled his wife to the point that drastic measures would be necessary for the man to regain his position in their home. Wulfgar suspected that the man might actually enjoy the course of action that would be available. Having been at the court of a king who indulged in pleasures of the flesh, Wulfgar had become knowledgeable in a variety of sexual practices. While he hadn’t enjoyed them in years, he did still have a room equipped with implements Heinrich would find useful. That Heinrich could take his anger beyond discipline into vicious cruelty occurred to Wulfgar briefly, but he dismissed it. Bettina, he knew, might think aspects of it were harsh, but Wulfgar sensed that she secretly longed for her husband to take control of her and their marriage.

  “Your son has died, sir. You need another. That means you must exert control over your wife. While not expecting the tragic events of today, I have a suggestion that will most likely meet both your requirements.”

  With a glance at his wife’s blonde head, he lifted his chin. “What do you suggest, milord?”

  “Follow me.”

  Silently, Heinrich followed him through the manor to a wing they had not been previously shown. As they turned a corner, Bettina began to revive and became hysterical.

  “Take me out of here,” she shrieked at her husband, pummeling his chest with her fists. “There are dangerous beasts roaming this place. They’ll kill us all. Take me home.”

  Wulfgar turned to watch Heinrich deal with her. As he’d suspected, the man had reached his last drop of patience. Eyes narrowed, Heinrich shook his wife forcefully and slapped her face. Stunned, she stared at him before fainting. He easily caught her and picked her up, looking at his host with a look of calm determination.

  Smothering a smile, Wulfgar continued to the door at the end of the corridor. The room held a large bed, a small chest of drawers, and a table with one chair near the small fireplace, while in the far corner was a low table with a chamber pot, pitcher, and basin. Heinrich entered the room and carefully put his wife on the bed.

  Wulfgar stayed at the door, tossing him the key.

  “Jordan will bring your meals, replace the chamber pot if you put it outside, and bring firewood. There are some items in the drawers you might find useful in making sure your wife knows just who is in control.”

  A slight frown on his face, Heinrich crossed the room and opened the top drawer. His breath drew in sharply at the sight of the blindfold, gag, and padded leather straps as well as a crop and a paddle.

  “Is that what you intend to use on my daughter?” he demanded, eyes flashing with righteous indignation.

  “You have no right to protect your daughter now,” Wulfgar replied flatly. “You lost that right when you allowed the shrew you married to treat her like a servant. When you didn’t protect her from the storm that brought you to my door. You cast her to the wolves a long time ago. Don’t get upset now when one claims her as his own.”

  “I am her father.”

  “And she will be mine.”

  “Are you going to use anything similar to this on her?” came the unrelenting demand.

  “I won’t need to. Amanda will surrender all to me. It is her nature. You must force Bettina to submit to you. If you’re honest, you’ll admit that you will enjoy it.” Wulfgar glanced at the woman. “She may as well. Stay or go as you wish,” he shrugged. “But, know this and heed my words well, Amanda remains with me.”

  He left, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter Five

  Wulfgar heard the music through the library door the servants had left open. He glanced at the couple who ran his household.

  “A good sound,” commented the lord.

  “It’s been too long since we heard a sound like that,” the butler agreed. “My lord, Father Wenceslas went into town before the first storm started. He hasn’t yet returned. I took the liberty of having the young man’s body wrapped and put in the chapel cellar.”

  “Thank you, Anders.” He looked at the housekeeper. “How is she?”

  “She had a bit of cry,” M
rs. Anders replied. “She told me that soon after her mother died, her brother changed and they weren’t as close as they had been growing up. Aaron’s mother’s family was aristocracy and hers was not. Aaron would tease her about it constantly. So he broke the bond that had been between them.” She shook her head and looked toward the library when the music paused. There was a soft rustle as one set of sheets was replaced for the next. And the music began again. “Still, it’s hard for her.”

  Entering the library, Wulfgar paused to observe her playing. She was lost in the music, he realized, watching her body sway. With a start, he recognized the notes as his. His gaze went to the stacks around her. Slowly he went to his desk. Before sitting down, he looked at her and smiled. She had gone through all the sheets, looking for his. He didn’t know if she had guessed that he had written it, but that didn’t matter.

  Through the morning, she played as he worked. As his father had, Wulfgar found the accounts more bearable with a woman playing the piano. The thought again reminded him of his suspicion. Words of his father regarding women and what he would truly need in his life came back to him, seeming to confirm what was happening. But he had thought that before, and nearly lost his soul and the one family member left to him. He would be very careful and certain before taking that chance again.

  Mrs. Anders brought them a light luncheon of soup, small rolls, and cheese. The two sat companionably on the loveseat before the fire to eat.

  “What has happened to my father and Bettina?” she asked hesitantly.

  “They are in a separate wing,” he replied easily. He was quite sure she wouldn’t be able to handle details. “There are things in their marriage they need to discuss. They need their privacy.”

  “And…” She swallowed. Sorrow radiated from her. “What about my brother’s…”

  “Father Wenceslas is not currently on the estate. Anders had Aaron’s body put in the chapel cellar until the priest returns.”