Authors: Ronda Thompson
The Cursed One (4 page)
Amelia opened her eyes to a confusing sight. She wasn't
in her bed at home in London. Across the room, a man stood with his back to her, staring out her window at the first rays of dawn. He wore a nightshirt and dusty buckskin trousers along with knee-high boots. His hair brushed the back of his collar, dark blond except for the lightning-colored streaks. Gabriel Wulf. And she was not safe and sound at her parents' home. She was caught in a nightmare.
in her bed at home in London. Across the room, a man stood with his back to her, staring out her window at the first rays of dawn. He wore a nightshirt and dusty buckskin trousers along with knee-high boots. His hair brushed the back of his collar, dark blond except for the lightning-colored streaks. Gabriel Wulf. And she was not safe and sound at her parents' home. She was caught in a nightmare.
“Have you slept at all?” she asked.
Lord Gabriel turned from the window. Amelia tried not to suck in her breath. Good lord, he was handsome, and it obviously took more than being terrified for a woman not to notice.
“I thought it best to stay awake.”
She glanced around. “Where is Mora?”
He moved to the bed and stood staring down at Amelia. “Downstairs. She said she'd fix us a bite of breakfast. A very practical young woman, that one.”
As opposed to a very impractical one, Amelia understood, such as herself. She let the statement pass.
There were more important things to worry over. “What are we going to do?” she asked him.
There were more important things to worry over. “What are we going to do?” she asked him.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “We need to get to Wulfglen.”
Amelia frowned at him. “Do you mean walk? The horses are gone.”
Without being invited, he sat upon the edge of the bed. Amelia supposed it was a good thing for him that she wasn't very practical, for she knew it was indecent of him to do so.
“Afoot, it might take us a few days,” he said. “But if we make it to the main road, we might find someone to give us a ride.”
Collingsworth Manor was a bit off the beaten path. Amelia knew that from her journey yesterday. The fields were some distance off, and the area around the house was completely wooded. “We'd have to travel through the woods,” she said. “All things considered, I don't believe that is a wise idea.”
“Because of the wolves?”
Amelia considered his question. “Because of whatever or, rather, whoever is killing people around here. The coachman and the footman are dead, aren't they?”
His green gaze slid away from her. He didn't answer, which was answer enough for her. “I don't believe the wolves we heard last night are normal wolves.”
Amelia remembered the feel of claws against her neck, the smell of fetid breath, the sensation of fur against her skin. She shivered. But she was being ridiculous, and so was he. “Of course they are wolves,”
she said. “Don't tell me the girl has you spooked about such things.”
she said. “Don't tell me the girl has you spooked about such things.”
“And after what happened to you last night, you are not afraid?” he challenged.
She didn't want to think about last night. Amelia couldn't wrap her mind around what had happened to her. “Last night, I was quite hysterical,” she said. “I couldn't have heard and felt what I thought I did in the room next door. I must have imagined it.”
He lifted a dark brow. “What did you hear and feel?”
As if closing her eyes could block the memory, Amelia tried. Only the nightmare was there waiting for her. She quickly opened them again. “I was attacked by a man pretending to be Robert. He must have looked a great deal like him to have deceived me.”
Wulf shrugged. “Not really. He might have been about the same height, the same build, same color of hair, but he did not resemble Robert otherwise. I saw him, remember?”
Amelia rose from the bed and began to pace. “There must be some logical explanation,” she insisted.
Lord Gabriel rose and blocked her path. He reached out and gently touched her neck. “And is there a logical explanation for these scratches? Is there a logical explanation as to why a man I shot, and took for dead, somehow managed to escape the room next door and disappear? Is there a logical explanation as to why Robert is dead in the cellar and two other men are dead in the stable, their throats ripped out?”
Amelia's heart lurched. Tears stung her eyes. “Robert,” she whispered. “I cannot believe he is gone.
I keep thinking this is a nightmare and I will wake in a moment, and everything will be as it was before.”
I keep thinking this is a nightmare and I will wake in a moment, and everything will be as it was before.”
Her words softened Wulf's gaze upon her. “Forgive me. It was insensitive to say that to you. I'm sure you cared deeply for Robert.”
Did she? Amelia wouldn't try to fool herself into believing she had loved her husband. She was sorry he was dead, but to carry on too much would be hypocritical. “I cared for him,” she admitted. “I thought he would make a fine husband. His death saddens me, but I will not pretend that he was the great love of my life. I do not believe in love.”
A slight smile tugged at the corner of Wulf's sensuous mouth. “By all means, be forthright.”
She raised her chin. “Would you have me lie?”
His slightly bemused expression faded. “I understand seldom is a match made in London that has anything to do with love, but you could have lied. Robert is no longer here to say otherwise.”
She wouldn't be baited by him. “Lied for whose sake?” she challenged. “Yours?”
He stepped closer, towering over her. He was quite intimidating size-wise, and Amelia fought herself not to take a step back from him.
“He was once my friend.”
Guilt rushed up to claim her. A flush burned her cheeks. “I'm sorry,” she said. “You must think I'm terribly cold.”
Wulf turned and walked back to the window. “I don't think you're terribly anything, Lady Collingsworth. I hardly know you.”
Mora poked her head inside the room and startled
Amelia. “Breakfast is ready,” Mora said. “I was wondering if I should bring it up or if you will both dine downstairs?”
Amelia. “Breakfast is ready,” Mora said. “I was wondering if I should bring it up or if you will both dine downstairs?”
Amelia couldn't say she wasn't glad for the distraction. Why would it sting her that Lord Gabriel Wulf had so casually dismissed her and her feelings? Perhaps because of the dreams she'd once had about him. On some level, she did feel as if she knew him. Which was silly. She did not know him at all.
“Downstairs will be fine,” Wulf answered. “No point in you having to bring trays up. I'm sure you are as tired as the both of us.”
Lord Gabriel was a more considerate person than Amelia. She'd just been thinking it would be nice to dine upstairs and return to bed, to escape from reality for a while longer. When Wulf glanced at her for confirmation, what else could she do but say, “Of course. If you will both retire there, I will join you as soon as I've dressed”?
Mora nodded and hurried back out. Wulf walked across the room. He gave Amelia a slightly curious look before exiting and closing the door behind him. Amelia supposed he thought she couldn't even dress herself, and she realized she never had, not completely on her own. She moved to her wardrobe, where her gowns had been unpacked the previous afternoon. The sight of her frilly garments brought her a measure of comfort. They reminded her of her old life, the one she'd lived only yesterday.
Choosing a light blue day frock with short puffed sleeves seemed a trifle cheery considering she was now a widow. Amelia supposed even taking consolation in
the fact that she looked good in black with her fair coloring was also insensitive. But what choice did she have? It wasn't as if she'd thought she would need somber clothing on her honeymoon. She had no choice but to wear what she'd brought. Amelia stripped from her robe and her ripped gown. Being wed and widowed on the same day would certainly cause scandal.
the fact that she looked good in black with her fair coloring was also insensitive. But what choice did she have? It wasn't as if she'd thought she would need somber clothing on her honeymoon. She had no choice but to wear what she'd brought. Amelia stripped from her robe and her ripped gown. Being wed and widowed on the same day would certainly cause scandal.
Her parents would not be pleased. She had hardly done a thing in her life that pleased them, so years ago she'd decided she might as well be good at displeasing them. She'd once promised the Dowager Duchess of Brayberry, a friend of the notorious Wulf brothers, that she would someday become the most shocking woman in all of England. She supposed she was off to a good start.
Suddenly Amelia was angry. Angry at Robert for putting her in this awkward situation. Her life was supposed to improve with marriage; instead, it had all gone horribly wrong. She was supposed to wake this morning a woman, her past indiscretions with her parents forgotten, forgiven. Robert was supposed to make her happy. He had promised. He never said a word about dying. He never said a word about any of this. Not the creepiness of Collingsworth Manor or that she would be in danger here.
Certainly not that wolves weren't always what they appeared to be. Amelia immediately steered her thoughts in a different direction. She didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about last night. Instead, she tried to concentrate on getting dressed. Her corset was a problem. Amelia tried lacing it from the front with the intention of sliding it around
to the back, but she laced it too tight and she couldn't tug it around like it should be. She broke a nail in the process of trying. It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
to the back, but she laced it too tight and she couldn't tug it around like it should be. She broke a nail in the process of trying. It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
Her knees suddenly buckled and she went to the floor. A lump rose in her throat. Her eyes began to water. She squeezed them closed and fought down the despair gripping her. It was no use. First a slight sob escaped her throat, then a wail. Then the floodgates burst open. As shallow as she wanted to be, as much as she wanted to distance herself from pain, from fear, from facing up to what had happened last night, and the fact that Robert was dead, Amelia couldn't.
It was as if a lifetime of emotions had gathered against her in that one moment, in that dark hour. She completely broke down. How long she sat weeping or, rather, caterwauling like a kitten left out in the rain Amelia could not judge. She lost track of time and was only brought to the present when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She nearly screamed. Her head jerked up and she was suddenly staring Lord Gabriel full in the face.
“I thought I'd come up and see what was keeping you,” he said. “I didn't mean to startle you.”
If he didn't mean to scare her, he shouldn't move so quietly. Amelia wiped her face with the edge of her petticoat. It occurred to her when his gaze lowered for a moment before lifting back to her face that she wore only her chemise, a petticoat, and her twisted corset.
“I couldn't get my corset turned around properly,” she explained.
He lifted a brow. “All this over your corset?”
Amelia sniffed. “I also broke a nail,” she added.
His gaze softened upon her again, and it did funny things to her insides. “I'll help you,” he said; then he rose, wincing in the process. He pulled her to her feet and turned her to where her back faced him. His fingers were sure and steady upon the laces as he loosened her corset and pulled it around in the proper position, before he began lacing her up.
“I think you've had experience with this sort of thing before,” she said in a dry tone.
Wulf laughed softly. “Not really. But I suppose I've watched enough women shimmy out of their clothes to understand a corset's workings.”
Amelia wasn't certain how she felt about that. In her dreams of Gabriel Wulf, other women had never been involved.
“How tight do you want it?”
Considering all that had happened, perhaps she should leave it somewhat loose in case she was forced to run for her life. “Not too tight,” she answered. “I think I should be able to breathe.”
“I think you don't need it at all.” His hands were warm around her waist, so warm she felt their heat. “Your waist is small enough without it.”
Best to guide her thoughts from the direction they were headed. It wasn't right, and certainly not after she'd just broken down and actually grieved for poor Robert. She might be a shocking girl, but even she knew one did not grieve for one man one moment and lust for another the next.
“I'm glad I did not love him,” she whispered. “I
don't think I could stand the pain. This is awful enough.”
don't think I could stand the pain. This is awful enough.”
Gently, Gabriel turned her to face him. “He deserves at least a few tears from his wife, and my respect, for a friendship we once shared. Maybe a moment of silence between us, for poor Robert.”
Amelia nodded and closed her eyes. She peeked beneath her lashes a second later to see if Gabriel had also closed his. His lashes made dark smudges against his high cheekbones. She wondered why he was blond but had darker facial hair. The contrast was very nice.
Everything about him was very nice, physically anyway. He made her feel quite dainty with his broad shoulders and his impressive height. He opened his eyes and suddenly they were staring at each other.
She knew she should look away, but she felt suddenly mesmerized. It was then that she noticed his scent. Her nostrils flared slightly in an effort to identify it, but she could not. She'd never smelled anything quite like it. But wait ⦠she had. The day she first visited Lucinda Wulf and had met Lord Gabriel's younger brother Jackson.
Heat gathered in her belly and spread out in all directionsâup her chest to her neck and face, down her legs, and most especially between them. Her nipples tightened. Her lips parted and she had trouble drawing a normal breath. He could do anything to her and she would not resist. The thought entered her mind even as she wanted to deny it. Body outranked mind and she took a step toward him. He drew in a shaky breath, but still his eyes bored into hers and he did not step away from her.
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