Tempest of Passion (2 page)

His eyes lit up and a smile curved the
edge of his lips. Emily held her breath as he walked toward the
door. His fingers had barely curled around the pommel, when he
veered to face her. Emily’s fingers dug into the leather binding of
the book.

“
Truly, I was wondering. I beg
you to forgive my overfriendliness, but you don’t seem the sort of
woman apt to faint. What did you see that caused you such
distress?”

Emily blinked. William Dalton had
managed to surprise her twice in a space of less than twenty
minutes. She smirked, unable to hide her amusement at his
frankness.

“
I am not one to faint
easily…you are indeed correct. As to what I saw—?” She glanced out
the window trying to make out among the warm sunshine and trees
what she had witnessed the previous night in the shadows. “I am
starting to believe it was simply a stray cat.” She looked back at
Mr. Dalton. Emily shuddered as his smile vanished and his eyes
darkened. “But I cannot say for certain, Sir.”

“
I see. Well, I shall take no
more of your time, Ms. Bunsbury. Have a good day.” He bowed low
again, a lock of hair falling over his eyes. Emily hugged the book
tighter, the impulse to pull back that stray lock of hair, shocking
her.

“
Emily
! Emily, Gertrude has just told me that Mr. Dalton was
here, and…”

Emily bit back a groan as her
mother came rushing into the parlor, her shawl trailing behind her
and all her steadfast protocol forgotten with the news that William
Dalton had come calling. Jane Bunsbury’s eyes widened for an
instant in shock before her impeccable manners took over.
Curtseying, she flashed Mr. Dalton her brightest smile.

“
Mr. Dalton,” Jane Bunsbury
said, her voice dripping with honey. “How considerate of you to
come visit my poor daughter. Your generous nature is beyond
comparison.” Stricken, Emily watched as Jane grasped William’s arm,
steering him back inside the room. “Not only do you save her from
injury, but you also take the time to call on her. You are too
kind, too kind.” She offered him a seat with a wave of her hand
before settling in another chair. “Surely, Emily has invited you to
stay for lunch.”

Emily scowled. She knew she
should have gotten rid of William Dalton the moment he stepped
through the door.

“
I believe I interrupted her
morning reading and she had not thought of it,” he said
quietly.

Of course she
hadn’t thought of it. He was an unwelcome visitor that made her
stomach churn in a most unpleasant manner. T
he last thing she wanted was to
share anything with him.

“
Emily
.” Her mother’s sharp cry and disapproving glance spoke
volumes to her. Emily bit back a groan and grasped her book
tighter. Eight and twenty years, and her mother still made her feel
like a child. Worse still, she knew exactly what the wide-eyed,
crazed face meant: Mr. Dalton was now officially a potential suitor
and Jane Bunsbury would not rest until the gentleman stopped
visiting them, ran off to another town or got married to another
young woman.

“
You will stay for lunch,
Mr. Dalton. It is the least we could do after you saved our
daughter’s life.”

“
I do not wish to be of any
inconvenience.” William shot her an apologetic smile, causing the
bugs in her stomach to surge in a mad dance.

“
Nonsense … such a fine
gentleman as you will not be an inconvenience.” Jane Bunsbury got
to her feet and offered Mr. Dalton her hand and he hurried to stand
and tuck her arm through his. “Emily, fetch Gertrude and let her
know Mr. Dalton will be staying for lunch, then join us in the
music room.” Emily stared at the pair as her mother guided them
into the hall. “My husband is in his study, Mr. Dalton. You must
meet him. He will be delighted to make your acquaintance at last.”
Jane prattled on, oblivious to William’s polite yet uninterested
response. Emily pressed the book to her face. Her head earnestly
hurt.

“
Why did I not ask him to
leave when I still had the chance?” she moaned.

Chapter Two

William ran.
His
large
paws hit the ground with a muted thud as he bounded through the
forest. The wind caressed his fur in an intimate touch, and the
moon bathed him in its comforting light. The forest’s fragrance
filled his lungs and for a brief moment he felt home. The wind
changed and with it the smell. His footsteps turned slower as the
elation churning through him slowly vanished, replaced by the sense
of loss that lived with him at every hour. Home no longer existed
for him. He was a lone wolf now, bereft of a pack, a
family.

“
Mr. William
Andrew Dalton, first born son of Charles Andrew Dalton and Mary
Eloise Dalton Guillém, member of the Dalton Wood pack. For the
crime of plotting against the Council, threatening the stability
and the peace of and between the wolves of
London
, and
for jeopardizing the position of our people among the humans, we
hereby sentence you to permanent banishment.”

Three months
later, the
words still echoed in his head. His mother’s sobbing, the
Council’s cold unrelenting gaze and the sound of the gavel beating
against the table like a nail on a coffin haunted his
dreams.

William
shuddered as he climbed the hill at the edge of his lands.
Reac
hing the
top, he sat on the top and contemplated the town below.
Brookenshire, his new home since his forced exile, was amiable but
a far cry from his old life. He whined in distress. He was a wolf
and wolves belonged in packs. Without one, they were nothing. A
lone wolf was a desperate animal. He had no family, no obligations,
no one to go to that understood him, no one to fight for, no one to
love. William thrust back his head and howled his anger and sorrow.
It wasn’t right, he had people to love, plenty, but he had no one
to love him back. He had no one to sit next to him and sing to the
moon, no one to race against and no one to roll with in the early
morning light, condemned to a life of loneliness because of a crime
he had not committed. He shut his eyes against the pain in his
heart, stumbling to his feet when Emily Bunsbury’s face appeared
before his eyelids. Why had he thought of her?

Uncomfortable, he began his descent toward his house.
Truly, she was quite appealing. Closer to her thirties than her
twenties, Emily
had replaced the baby fat and naïve air with bountiful
curves and a vividness to her complexion that spoke of intelligence
and wit. Though they had not been formally introduced at the ball
the previous night, he had taken notice of her. It was hard not to
since she was the only young woman not dancing.

His curiosity
had been
further piqued when he’d watched her slide behind a column
and emerge moments later outside on the terrace. Interested, his
wolf had spurred him to investigate. He’d reached the double glass
doors in time to watch her topple to the floor.

William
snarled as he recalled the smell that had assaulted his nostrils as
soon as he’d stepped outside to help her.
Wolf
. The scent was faint but he knew it well.
He’d glimpsed over the railing for any signs of the animal but
there was none. Troubled, William set off at a trot. How could it
be that he had forgotten all this? Emily was attractive, and her
earthly scent welcoming, but not enough for him to forget such a
significant concern. Brookenshire didn’t have any wolf packs. He
made sure of it when he moved here.

William set off at a run,
alarmed. Surely, he only had that reaction to her as the first
female he’d gotten close to since he’d left home. It had nothing to
do with the mating pull. Did it?

The mating
pull would be stronger, more violent
, surely. He’d be unable to escape it in
any manner. His every waking thought would be plagued by images of
his mate. A strong instinct to protect her would surge within him
and he wouldn’t allow any other male to get near her. Everything in
his life would lose importance as the desire to seduce his mate
took over.

William shuddered and raced the
last bit of terrain toward his manor. Rushing behind a bramble of
bushes and trees, he pressed the hidden lever on the floor with his
paw. The wall gave way to a dark tunnel inside the house. William
entered and pressed another pedal inside. The wall thudded close.
With a hearty shake, he shifted into his human form and donned the
robe hanging on the wall. He stretched and climbed the stairs to
his bedroom, his bare feet quiet against the plush rug. His
thoughts strayed back to Emily and their meeting that morning. She
was attractive but more trouble than was worth the effort. After
all, at almost thirty years there had to be a good reason for her
not to be married.

As he reached the end of the
tunnel, William pressed another knob. The wall gave way to his
bedroom. The remnants of a bright fire bathed the room in a soft
glow. Yawning and casting his robe aside, he stumbled toward his
four-poster bed. He slipped between the sheets and succumbed to
sleep.

W
illiam’s dreams that night were not pleasant. They were
filled with shadows that aimed to hurt him and visions of Emily’s
mocking smile. He’d woken repeatedly throughout the night. Restless
and tired, he finally made his way to his office, determined to do
some work. He’d done nothing but stare at the numbers before him
for the past few hours, straining his ears in search of the
familiar sounds of a household waking up. There was nothing but
silence in his home. No bickering from the younger children, no
chitchat from the adults, no stories. He even missed the sounds of
the city: The marketplace, the horses, the newspaper boy. There
were no sounds except for the whispers of servants striving to be
quiet so as not to wake their new master.

He sat up as the door opened. His maid
let out a frightened squeal at the sight of him.

“
Sir, the post
arrived.”

William forced a smile to his
lips.

“
Thank you, Marie. Leave it
here.”

He pointed to an empty spot on
the desk. The young woman scurried inside, dropped the letters on
the table and left quickly. William sorted through the envelopes
but found no news from London. His friend, Grant, had nothing to
report. Life in the city continued as always, without him. William
pressed the back of his hand against his chin and took in a deep
breath. What could he expect? Grant, though a good friend, was not
an investigator. Neither was Nathaniel or Jacob. None of his
friends could do much for him except let him know how his family
was faring. The only one capable of helping him was his father, but
he was too close to the Council to do it openly. It would take
time.

Absently,
William rubbed at the scar beneath his eye.
“Why?” he whispered. “Why cast
me out? Why not kill me directly?”

Certainly, it
would be no easy feat. Wolves were stronger and faster than any
human, but it was by no means impossible. After all, they
hadn’t made it this
far in history out of honest play.

William
covered his face with his hands.
Death would have been preferable to this
yawning loneliness. He recalled the last time he had heard his
sister play the piano. She’d sat in the music room with her
teacher, playing, almost flawlessly, a flirtatious tune. He’d been
so proud and yet, he’d never told her. Now, he probably would never
be able to do so. Hopelessness, dark as a moonless night, wormed
its way into his heart. He understood now why it was said that
being a lone wolf was worse than death. Alone, you despaired. Gloom
and dark thoughts took over your every waking moment, sucking away
the happiness, the hope … your very soul. The wolf was the first to
go, the animal unable to cope with the loss of its family unit.
Anguished, a lone wolf took to shifting less and less. The human
mind followed the bleak spiral of the beast closely. Even created
as it was, to have faith and hope under most circumstances, it
began to fail. Soon, mornings and nights became one continuous
round of wretchedness with no end in sight.

William
sighed. He hadn’t reached that state yet. He had a mission to
accomplish before succumbing to the inevitable death of the lone
wolf. He veered in his chair to glance out the window at the forest
below. The sun was high in the sky, it
s luminous rays bathing everything in
a golden hue that reminded him of warm summer days lazing about
with his friends in the lake house. A soft knock at his door broke
him out of his reverie.

“
Come in.”

“
Sir, would you like breakfast
now?”

William smiled at Matilda. The plump
maid had come highly recommended by his cousin George. She was a
pleasant and caring woman that had taken to her role as his
housekeeper almost to a fault.

“
No, thank you. I think I shall
go out for a stroll…and return to a hearty lunch,” he hastened to
add, noticing her disapproving glare. Lips pressed tight, Matilda
bowed and left without further comment. William chuckled. The woman
acted like his foster mother. Pain lanced through his heart. He
needed to get out for a while and stop thinking about London and
his family.