by Meara Platt
But he wanted more.
He wanted everything.
Somewhere in the back of his fogged brain, he heard footsteps on the stairs and knew this moment had to end now. Summoning his resolve, he eased his mouth off Lettie’s. But his hand was stubborn and refused to leave the warm cup of her breast. “Your aunt... and servants... soon be back. We’re not alone.”
She wasn’t his to claim.
He took a deep breath and then another, needing to calm his rampant lust. Lettie was still on his lap and had to be feeling the hard length of him against her thighs.
“I love you, Brynne.” Her eyes glistened with joy, reflecting all the love she held in that generous heart of hers. A big heart wrapped in a little body. A gorgeous, hot body.
Their kiss was over.
Their moment ended.
He reluctantly drew his hand off her breast and lifted her off his lap to set her down on the mattress beside him. He turned away, needing several more strong, steady breaths to reclaim control over his body and suppress the unfulfilled passion still stirring within his heart.
“I love you,” she said again in a whisper.
“Don’t,” he warned, still unable to look at her for fear he’d take her into his arms again and never let her go. “Don’t, Lettie. This is hard enough for both of us. I don’t want to break your heart.”
The footsteps were close now.
She leaned forward and softly kissed the wolf birthmark on his back. “You won’t. I understand the significance of my dream. I know what must happen now.”
****
The wolf on Brynne’s back stared at Lettie with its knowing eyes, but those dark eyes were no longer gleaming and angry, for she’d conquered the wolf.
The wolf now trusted her and had placed Brynne in her care.
I love Brynne. I’ll save him. I promise.
And in saving Brynne, she’d unite him with his wolf. She felt to the depths of her soul that he was a de Wolfe, but the exact relation was still a mystery, one that would soon be revealed... please, let it be today.
Lettie still felt the tingle of his lips on hers, the exquisite heat and possessiveness of his kiss, the ache and longing in his heart. He’d touched her breast and an explosion of sensations had erupted within her body, heating her blood until it was thick and molten, heating her skin so that every pore emitted fire. Her breasts were still swollen with desire and her most intimate part was still moist and throbbing.
One kiss and she’d completely melted, leaving her a molten pool of desire. She wanted more of this. She wanted Brynne.
“Lettie, your hot cocoa,” Brynne said, handing her the cup just brought in by Frances.
“Thank you, Aunt Frances,” she said quietly, afraid to look her in the eye for fear the love she held for Brynne still shone in hers. Did it really matter? Had she ever fooled anyone about her feelings for this wonderful man?
“I’ll leave you in Brynne’s care for the moment. Since I’m up, I may as well prepare myself for the coming day.” Frances frowned lightly. “Something tells me it will be interesting.”
Brynne groaned. “I hope not. I could use a rather dull one right now.” He glanced at Lettie. “Right?”
She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Yes, dull. Right. And now we had better get dressed. We have to visit the de Wolfes as soon as possible.” She set aside the hot cocoa he’d just handed her. “In fact, we’d better hurry.”
Frances shook her head in confusion. “At this hour of the morning? It’s only dawn.”
Lettie rolled off her bed and felt a chill the moment her bare feet hit the floor. “Then we’re late.” She crossed to her armoire and withdrew the dark blue merino wool gown neatly hanging inside.
This is what I’m wearing in the vision.
She grabbed warm undergarments and matching blue wool stockings.
Frances let out a yelp as she began to remove her nightgown. “Lettie! Brynne’s still here. The door’s wide open! What are you thinking?”
That Brynne wouldn’t mind seeing her naked, judging by his open-mouthed gape.
“I’ll get ready,” he said in a strangled rasp and hastily retreated from the room.
“Frances,” Lettie said once she heard his door slam, “I’ll need several blankets and your sleigh.”
“My sleigh? What do you need with that old thing? I haven’t used it since my husband took ill.” Her eyes turned soft as she seemed to go back to an earlier time. “But we had such fun riding out in the snow together, the two of us cozy and bundled up.”
“I want us to ride to the de Wolfes in it. That’s how I saw Brynne and me in my dream. Something’s going to happen, Frances. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I dare not ignore what I saw.”
“I don’t like it one bit, Lettie.” Frances sighed. “But I know how you feel about Brynne. If there’s any hope for the two of you, then you must see your adventure through. I loved my husband. I would have fought for him, too.”
“I’m so glad you understand.” She hugged her and closed the door behind her after she left. Then Lettie quickly washed and dressed. She wound her hair in a simple bun before bending to don her sturdy boots.
Brynne was ready and waiting for her by the time she hurried downstairs. She walked out with him, boldly placing her hand in his, relieved when he didn’t pull away. He helped her into the sleigh drawn by one of Frances’ big farm horses. The blankets she had requested were piled on the seat.
When Brynne hopped in, she tucked one of the blankets around both of them and set the other aside. They’d need it soon. “Ready, Lettie?”
“Yes, please hurry. I think we’re running out of time.”
He said nothing, merely snapped the reins, and the horse took off at a sprightly trot over the snow covered ground, snorting clouds of vapor as its hot breath hit the cold air.
They traveled in silence across the virgin paths, no one out so soon after the storm had ended. But the sky was clearing and icicles were forming on trees limbs and leaves so that they shimmered like diamonds. “Wrexham feels like a faerie land,” she murmured, for the white of the snow, the glistening green leaves, the bright blue of the clearing sky, all appeared magical and so vivid in its beauty.
As the horse continued in its rhythmic stride, Brynne eased his grasp on the reins and took both into one hand. He placed the other hand on Lettie’s shoulder and tucked her neatly against his side. “The tip of your nose is red,” he said, as though needing an excuse to draw her into his arms.
“So are my ears, I’m sure.” She playfully rubbed her ear against his chest.
“Lettie,” he said softly. “What’s going to happen? Why the haste to visit the de Wolfes? I know you spoke of water and drowning. Can you give me something more?”
She shook her head. “We need to drive by the pond instead of heading straight to the house. I’m not sure why.” She shook her head again. “That is, I think I know what I saw, but it doesn’t seem possible. I can’t tell you more, Brynne. Whatever happens will be guided by our hearts.”
They traveled in silence until the de Wolfe manor came into view, but instead of heading up the drive, Lettie reminded him to first turn by the pond, the feeling of doom now so overwhelming it weighed like a stone upon her heart.
And then she saw the little form of a boy running toward the pond. “There, Brynne!”
“What the...” He released her and grabbed both reins in his hands as he snapped them to speed the horse along. “It’s Max de Wolfe.”
“Max the Terrible,” Lettie said with a nod. “How did he get out of the house? Where’s his nanny? Does anyone know he’s out here?”
“You did.” He let out a smoky breath. “Damn it, Lettie. How could you know? What’s he doing? Bloody hell, he’s running onto the ice. The drowning in your dream! Max is the little boy you saw! Why didn’t you tell me, Lettie?”
“I wasn’t certain. Hurry, Brynne. I can hear the ice begin to crack beneath his feet.”
The sleigh had barely come to a halt beside the pond when Brynne leaped out and began to run along its bank toward the boy. “Max! Get off the pond!” he cried in his sternest voice. Lettie knew that he hoped to stop the boy before he went too far off shore. But this was Max the Terrible and he’d earned that name. Max took off toward the center of the pond, but didn’t get very far before the ice began to break beneath his little boots.
The boy stopped and suddenly began to cry. In the next moment, he fell in and his cries were swallowed by the cruel, icy water.
Brynne stretched flat on his belly across the ice and pulled himself toward the spot where the boy had fallen in. As he drew near, he fell in as well. Tears began to fall on Lettie’s cheeks and froze before she could wipe them away. She grabbed the blankets and ran as close as she could to Brynne and the boy without stepping onto the ice. “Come up, Brynne. Please... now.”
Nothing.
This isn’t right. This didn’t happen in my dream.
She was about to dive in after both, when Brynne suddenly emerged from the water like Neptune rising from the depths, carrying the boy in his arms. Lettie grabbed Max out of his hands, wrapped the boy in the blanket, and began to run as fast as she could with him toward the sleigh. Brynne followed after her, soaking wet and already shouting orders. “Get in, Lettie. Take the clothes off him and wrap both blankets around him while I drive.”
“No, I’ll drive. You–”
He gently tossed her in with the boy and grabbed the reins. They traveled at a frigid gallop the short distance to the house. The boy was crying as she stripped of his frozen clothes and wrapped him in the warm blankets they’d brought with them. His voice was hoarse by the time they reached the front door and Brynne began to pound on it. “Open up inside! Quick!”
The door flew open as he was about to pound again. “My lord! Lord Wrexham!” the butler shouted as he backed away to let them both in. “Your son is here! He’s been found!”
Lettie heard the scuffle of footsteps rushing toward them. “Thank heavens!” Max’s father cried and his pretty mother burst into tears. “But where? How? He was having breakfast with us one moment and in the next he was gone!”
“He ran to the pond,” Lettie quickly explained. “Brynne saved him. But he’s frozen, too.” She turned to Brynne. “Quick, we have to get you close to the fire and take off your clothes.”
He seemed to hesitate. “Now, Brynne,” she commanded. “Your lips are blue and your skin has turned ashen.”
Lord Wrexham handed his son to one of his footmen and gave quick instructions to his wife. “Get Max into warm clothes and set him beside the fire to warm him up. Dry him off thoroughly and rub his limbs gently. Don’t stop until his skin turns pink.”
He turned to Brynne. “Go into the parlor. The fire’s just been lit and is burning steadily. Undress while I fetch you dry clothes. You’re bigger than me, but I think you’ll fit into my dressing gown. That should do while I dig out something more suitable.” He issued more orders for his butler to bring coffee and food into the parlor and then hurried upstairs to fetch clothes for Brynne himself. “Lettie, help him to the parlor.”
She nodded and took Brynne’s hands, shocked by how cold he felt. “Brynne, quick.”
But it was already too late. Brynne stumbled backward and fell against the stairs, his eyes wide and unfocused as they rolled upward, his body suddenly going limp. “No! Brynne! Get up!” He wasn’t responding, so Lettie knelt beside him and began to strip off his clothes as she called for help.
No! No! No! She had his shirt off and was already tugging at his boots when Lord Wrexham and several of his footmen came hurrying down the stairs to help her. “He’s in shock,” Lettie cried, the words painful as they caught in her throat.
Lord Wrexham summoned more footmen to carry him to one of their guestrooms and ordered a fire immediately started. There was a massive bed with a dark blue silk coverlet atop it, but Wrexham ordered that Brynne be set down on the thick carpet beside the fireplace.
Lettie followed the men inside and wasted no time in pulling off Brynne’s boots while the men stripped him of the rest of his clothing. A young maid brought in warm towels that Lettie grabbed out of her hands in order to rub them along Brynne’s unresponsive body. “Take one and gently pat the moisture out of his hair,” she ordered the horrified girl who had probably never seen a naked man before.
Neither had Lettie.
This was not the way she’d wanted it to happen.
The footmen quickly brought the fire to a roar, but Lettie orderd them to keep stoking it and piling on wood. “Hotter. His blood has turned to ice! Brynne! Brynne! Answer me!”
She pressed her lips against his mouth because she couldn’t think of any other way to warm them. He remained unresponsive, even as she practically lay atop him, tears now streaming down her cheeks as she tried to warm him with her slight body, wishing she knew how to rouse him... even if it meant boldly touching him in a manner that would stir his passion.
Her inexperienced attempt must have shocked the de Wolfe staff, but she needed to do something to ignite his inner fire and keep his organs from failing. “Brynne, please. Don’t leave me,” she said in a strained whisper, unable to imagine an existence without the man she’d loved since they were children. “This isn’t supposed to happen.”
She kissed him on the mouth again. “I love you. I love you.”
She began to push on his chest, pumping it when she felt his heart slow, and ready to keep pushing on it for eternity if needed. She was sniffling and crying and trying to remain calm even as her heart was ripping to pieces. “Jeremiah, you lied to me! You can’t take him from me! I won’t let you!”
The maid glanced around, obviously searching for this stranger she’d called Jeremiah. Although the girl couldn’t see him, Lettie had always been able to sense his presence and knew exactly when he was around. For this reason, she knew that Jeremiah, the cowardly angel who was supposed to be her guardian angel, had been here but a moment before disappearing again. Well, if he wasn’t going to help, then she’d save Brynne all by herself.
And if Jeremiah thought to steal Brynne from her, then he was sadly mistaken. Lettie would chase him up to heaven and down to hell to reclaim the man she loved. Still crying, she put her ear to Brynne’s mouth to feel his breaths, but they were so slight and he was hardly taking in any air.
“Lettie,” someone said softly, taking her by the shoulders and gently trying to ease her away from Brynne. She recognized the calm, authoritative voice of Lord Wrexham.
She resisted. “No, I have to stay with him.”
“You will, my dear.” He kept a hand on her shoulder but didn’t try to force her away. “Just let my footmen put him into bed. He’s alive. It just takes time for someone in his condition to recover from the freeze. But he’s strong and thanks to you, we got him out of his clothes and warming up in a hurry.”
He sighed when she continued to resist. “Lettie, please. My wife and I owe him everything. He saved our boy’s life. I won’t let him come to harm. Let us put him in bed.”
Reluctantly, Lettie eased off Brynne and allowed the footmen to settle him onto the plump mattress that had now been warmed. “Lord Wrexham–”
“Call me Max, please. I pride myself in being a good judge of character. My wife and I liked you and Brynne from the moment we met you. Now infinitely so. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.” He carried a chair to Brynne’s bedside and motioned for her to sit. “Know that we will do all in our power to attend to him. He’ll stay here until he returns to health. Stay by his side as long as you need. If you wish for anything, you have only to ask.”
She nodded, thankful for his friendship.
He sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. “My wife will come by to personally thank you as soon as she stops hugging our son. Max the Terrible. He’s certainly earned his reputation today.”
Lettie took Brynne’s hand and held it in both of hers.
“No wonder my father never complained of having daughters. Your son can keep an entire army running in circles.” She cast Lord Wrexham a gentle smile, appreciating all that he was doing for Brynne and desperately hoping it would be enough. “I’m glad little Max is all right.”
“So am I,” he said with sincere feeling, clearing the lump of relief obviously stuck in his throat. “I’ll have one of my staff sent up assist you. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything you desire.”
The only thing she desired was a healthy Brynne.
Brynne suddenly shifted and turned onto his side. Lettie jumped from her chair and sat on the mattress by his hip. “Brynne, can you hear me?”
He muttered something unintelligible. “My lord... Max! He’s talking.”
Lord Wrexham was already at her side and his eyes were wide as he studied Brynne’s birthmark. “Lettie, what is that mark on his shoulder?”
“He’s always had it. It’s in the shape of a wolf. But I don’t know if it signifies anything. In truth–”
“My father has to see this.”
“The earl?” Lettie was suddenly on her feet, gaping at him. “What do you know about that mark? Please tell me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t really know anything about it, but... my father might. I can’t make promises, of course. I know Brynne’s situation, a foundling left on your neighbor’s doorstep. It seems impossible... too farfetched...”
Lettie’s heart began to pound through her ears. “In truth, I came here hoping to find something that might connect him to your family. The mark of the wolf is unmistakable. Brynne dismissed the notion, for surely the de Wolfe clan would have noticed a missing infant and searched high and low for him. I suppose I’m grasping at air. That mark doesn’t link him to your family. But I didn’t know where else to start.”
She let out a long, ragged breath. “He means to leave me as soon as he’s fit to travel. He thinks he’s unworthy of me. I’ve tried my hardest to convince him otherwise, to no avail. So you must tell me what you know, I’ll never see him again unless I can prove to him that he’s fit to marry an earl’s daughter.”