Tempest of Passion (7 page)

“
You are bleeding, sir.”

The blond
spoke softly. His hands trembled slightly around the cup of tea
brought to them.

“
It is of no consequence.”
Reeves dropped his gaze to his drink.

“
Graham … I may call you, Graham, yes?”
“Yes, of course. I thought we had established that the other
day.”

William smiled. Try as he must, he seemed unable to distrust
the merchant. There was something about his manner, or perhaps his
eyes, that called to him to protect the other man.

“
Yes, I had forgotten. I am a bit shaken up. I apologize.”
William downed the liquor he’d paid extra for.

“
Yes, I have noticed.” Graham’s blue eyes twinkled. “I suppose
however, that by an early call you did not mean this. What has
transpired? Is Ms. Bunsbury all right?”

William’s
heart jolted at the sound of Emily’s name. He passed a hand across
his face. He was in deep.

“
Yes, but she was attacked.”

“
Attacked, you say? By whom?” Reeves set the teacup down with
such force, the liquid spilled over the edge.

“
Wolves.”

“
But there have never been wolves in Brookenshire.”

“
That is why I am here. You know this town, better than I do.
I barely arrived a few months ago and I had it in good confidence
that there were no wolves to be found in the area, but that seems
to have changed. Could your pack perhaps be moving into the area
without your knowledge?”

“
Mr. Dalton.”

“
William. Please.”

“
William.” The porcelain cup in his hands shook as he brought
it to his mouth. Graham closed his eyes. “I have no pack. I thought
you knew.” Grief danced in the depths of his eyes as he reopened
them.

“
I suspected as much. I hope you take no offense,
but…”

“
You’d like to know why I wander the world alone.”

“
Yes.”

The other man sighed. His eyes darted across the room as if he
could see something in the shadows. William followed his gaze. The
fire was burning dimly, the candles casting a gloomy light across
the room. Chairs had been placed atop tables, he supposed, to make
cleaning easier at the end of the day. Landscape portraits adorned
the walls, giving the dark inn a hint of color.

“
I was born in the poor quarter of a town in the north of the
continent.”

“
You are not English?”

“
No, sir.”

William
clasped his hands together and laid them on the table. He waited
for Graham to continue.

“
I was the runt of the litter. I was left to die, as there
were too many mouths to feed. Luck smiled upon me, for a man found
me on the alley where they dropped me. He was the servant of a
wealthy merchant paying a visit to his family. He took me home with
him and told his master where he’d found me. His master and his
wife adopted me. They had been trying to conceive a child for years
without success and they badly wanted a child.” Reeves smiled
sadly. “They were fantastic parents. Sadly, they were not wolves so
I grew with no knowledge of my heritage until at the age of twelve
I shifted for the first time.”

“
You told your parents?”

Graham laughed. “Good God, no. I was twelve but I was not
stupid. I realized that my parents would disinherit me, or worse,
if they discovered that I could change into a beast. “

“
How did you contain the urge to run?”

“
You have never been to the north of the continent, Sir? There
are wild forests waiting to be discovered. I would sneak out during
the night and run.” Graham fixed his gaze on a bright painting of a
sunset. “I led a happy life following in my father’s steps as a
merchant. I traveled the world and helped my father create a trade
market with India. On a trip to Dacca, vomiting over the edge of a
boat, I met Angelina.” He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I can
still smell her scent sometimes. Indian spices, mingled with her
favorite soap. She was my mate. We married in England in a tiny
chapel in the countryside. It was pouring rain. Everything that
could go wrong went wrong … but we didn’t see it. We were so happy,
William. We ended up dancing and kissing in the rain, with mud
stains on our clothes and our guests staring at us as if we’d lost
our minds. Perhaps, we had.” Graham ran his fingertip over the edge
of his cup. “We had a child, my son, Thomas. He had my eyes and his
mother’s dark hair. For five years we lived a fairy tale. Then, I
received word that my father had passed away. Angelina insisted on
traveling with me to the funeral. William,” he spread his hands on
the table. “I loved being with her. Every time I was away from her
it was as if a part of me had been removed. She didn’t have to
convince me for me to accept. We debated taking Thomas with us or
not. I thought it would be a great opportunity for our child to see
my land of birth, so we decided that he’d come too.” Graham covered
his face with his hands. “I buried my father, my wife and my son
that autumn. The ship sank and I could do nothing to save them.
Nothing.” His voice cracked and a shudder racked his
body.

“
Graham, you had no way of knowing. There was nothing you
could have done.”

“
I know. I know, but it’s still hard.” When he removed his
hands from his face tears streaked his pale features, collecting on
his short beard. “Excuse me, Mr. Dalton. I have never spoken to
this to anyone.” William offered him his handkerchief. Reeves wiped
his eyes and balled the scrap of cloth in his fist. “For months, I
stalled my return to England. I wanted to die. I took to the
mountains as a wolf. Being an animal allowed the pain to recede
slightly. I didn’t have to think or feel. I only had to survive.”
Graham opened his robe at his chest, revealing several scars. “They
were difficult months. My brothers almost killed me.”
“Your brothers?”

He
nodded. “My mother recognized me and saved me from them but I was
forced to flee the mountain and return to civilization.”

“
Your mother did not offer you to join the pack? You had
survived against all odds and an omega is needed in every
family.”

Graham’s eyes searched his face for an instant before his lips
twitched and he smiled. “I’m a runt, a weakling. I have no place in
a pack.”

“
Is that why I’ve never seen you in London?”

“
I do not do business in London. There is too much competition
and the clans there frighten me.”

“
So you wander alone.”

“
Yes.”

“
But—?” William shook his head. He couldn’t quite believe it.
Lone wolves died. They did not thrive. Yet, the man before him had
surprising resilience. He had been abandoned by his family, his
mate had perished, and yet he still lived, laughed and smiled. His
heart went out to him. Men like these were the ones that wolf packs
needed: Courageous, with a good heart.

“
You’re wondering why I’m alive.”

“
Yes.”

“
I do not know. Perhaps, because I have always wandered alone
and never truly missed the companionship of a pack.” He shrugged
and stared at his empty cup. “Perhaps, I hide my emotions from
myself.”

“No man deserves to be left to die and every man deserves a
friend.” William stretched his hand across the table, offering it
to the other man. Graham’s eyes watered, but he grasped William’s
hand with strength.

“
Thank you.”

“
You’re welcome.”

“
Though, I believe you didn’t come here tonight to make
friends with me, William. Emily has been
attacked.”

William clasped his hands together atop the table as the fear
he’d failed to feel earlier wrapped around him in a deathly grip.
Emily. His Emily could have been hurt, killed. He shouldn’t be here
He should be out there, watching over her. She was his mate and he
had to keep her safe.

“
Look at me, William. Tell me what happened. We’ll keep Emily
safe.”

Chapter
Eight

My dearest Emily,

The sun is barely rising and I find myself at my desk
attempting to put into words the emotion that pierces my heart
every time I think of you. I am painfully aware that you do not
wish for me to court you. I recall with agonizing pain your wish
for me to let you be. Yet, my precious Emily, I cannot. I cannot
dismiss you like quick summer rain. I cannot simply forget you. As
much as you wish it to be so, I cannot cast you aside as another
woman. You are so much more. From the moment I laid eyes on you
something in me changed. The sadness I carried like a cloak lifted
slightly, allowing a glimmer of sunlight to break through. Your wit
stimulates my mind whilst a gaze from your eyes causes my soul to
soar. Your presence affects me in ways that I cannot begin to
express.

My dearest angel, as requested I will not impose my presence
on you any longer. I will respect your wishes. Yet, my feelings
cannot be contained, for Emily, I do love you so.

Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service.

Yours forever,

William

Emily
dropped the letter on her lap. She wiped her sweaty palms on her
dress. Love? Love. William Dalton was speaking of love again. She
reread the letter, mouthing the words aloud. He promised not to
pester her any longer, but he wrote to her speaking of love and
emotions he could not contain. Infuriated, she began folding the
parchment. He did not deserve a reply.

Did
he?

She
pulled in her bottom lip, chewing on it softly, mindful of the
wound she’d self-inflicted the previous night. She hated admitting
it, but she had enjoyed dancing with Mr. Dalton. For a man so large
he moved with grace. His hands were pleasantly warm. And he
provided entertaining conversation. Or had done so, until he spoke
of love.

Emily ran
her fingertips over the finely penned words on the parchment. Her
lips lifted slightly as she reread the line about her wit. Clearly,
he was no poet, but he attempted to put into words sentiments that
were not common for one of his sex. He spoke of love and more. The
previous night, he’d spoken of a man and a woman united as two
individual beings with the same purpose in life. Was it possible?
Could such a thing exist? Was it possible for a man to love a woman
as something more than a place to deposit his bodily
needs?

She shook
her head. Of course not. She folded the letter, bitterly recalling
another man that had written to her similar words. Phillip
Hammersmith. He too spoke of love and heavenly union. He’d charmed
her easily. The betrothal had been spoken off and her hand been
formally asked for when she discovered his true nature.

Hurt beyond tears, she’d demanded an
explanation from him and he’d given it to her. “
I am a man and as thus I have to give in to my nature. You
are going to be a respected wife. You will produce an heir and take
care of my household. I will provide for you. It is what any woman
wants.“

She
called off the marriage. Her parents despaired but miraculously
respected her decision. Phillip removed himself to London with his
mistress and from what she later learned he had married a young
nobleman’s daughter.

That had been ten years ago, and yet to this day she pondered
on his words. Women actively looked for a man to care for them.
They married, had children, and took care of the household. Their
lives became a lifeless affair. She didn’t want any of it. She had
no desire for a husband. What she wanted was beyond that. She
wanted a lover, a companion, and an equal. She thought she had
found it in Phillip. She’d been wrong.

She
wasn’t sure what she felt for Mr. Dalton. Whether it was lust or
something more, she couldn’t quite discern. However, his
kiss…

Emily pressed her fingertips to her lips. It had incensed her
from the inside out. She swallowed drily.

His touch had sent flames of desire spiraling through her in
waves. She lost control and that more than anything was what had
prompted her to slap him. Emily chuckled without humor. Yet, he’d
chased her. Not only that, but he’d saved her from the mad horse.
Emily shut her eyes. If she tried really hard she could still hear
his heartbeat. It was strong and wild. She could still feel the
hard planes of his chest under her fingertips. It had only been a
brief moment, but she had felt safe cocooned in his
arms.

“
Enough, Emily,” she murmured.

She
picked up the book she’d been reading when the messenger boy
arrived. She read a line and placed it down again. Perhaps, Mr.
Dalton did deserve a reply. He had after all saved her from the
scared beast. Furthermore, someone had to awaken him to the harsh
reality of matrimony in this day and age and not to the ridiculous
romantic notion he held.

She
hurried to her desk, a reply already forming in her mind. Dipping
her goose feather quill into the ink, she wrote:

My dear Mr. Dalton,

If as you say, you wish to
respect my wishes, then I beg you not to communicate with me any
longer. Pray, I wish you would see your foolhardy emotion for what
it is.