Authors: Ronda Thompson

The Cursed One (7 page)

BOOK: The Cursed One

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“That is obviously a matter of opinion,” she said. “And what happened earlier is just as obviously something we should both forget about.”

It was hard to forget when they were so close to each other, when he had his hands on her soft skin. Her feet were dainty and he wanted see if her legs were as
smooth and soft as the rest of her. Her feet were warm enough, he decided, and replaced her dainty slippers.

“Tea,” Mora announced, carrying a pot on a tray and three cups. The girl placed the tray on a nearby table and began to pour. Gabriel rose from his kneeling position before Amelia. His thigh set up an immediate protest. He limped to a chair across from her and sat.

Mora's hands visibly shook as she handed a cup of tea to first Amelia and then Gabriel. He had to give the girl credit for keeping her wits about her. Even Lady Collingsworth, he admitted, had not fainted or gone into hysterics. He counted himself lucky.

“Mora, Lady Collingsworth remarked that you had been raised on stories of folklore and superstition. Is that true?”

The girl seated herself next to Lady Collingsworth and sipped her tea. “Suppose so,” she answered.

“Have you ever heard any stories about men turning into wolves?”

Mora shifted uneasily beside Lady Collingsworth. “Of course, my lord. Everyone has heard those stories, haven't they?”

“True,” Gabriel agreed. “But what about men who can take the shape of another person? Have you heard any tales about that?”

Staring into her cup, Mora seemed to be thinking. “The Wargs,” she finally answered. “Maybe they could do something like that.”

Gabriel leaned forward in his chair. “The Wargs?”

“Forest creatures,” the girl provided. “'Tis said they have lived in the woods of Europe for centuries. They make their homes there like other woodland
creatures. It's also said a person won't know when one is about because they are so good at blending with their surroundings.”

“And these Wargs, they can shift their shapes?”

The girl nodded. “So the tale goes. Like the lady said before, parents use the Wargs to keep their children from wandering off into the woods. I heard once that a Warg could pretend to be your mother or father to lure you to it. Course then it eats you.”

Lady Collingsworth's cup rattled against her saucer. Gabriel realized he should have questioned Mora about peasant folklore when the lady wasn't around. She'd had enough to digest in one night.

“You should go to bed,” he said to the lady. Including Mora in the sweep of his gaze, he added, “The both of you. I'll stay up and stand guard.”

“I could hardly sleep now,” Lady Collingsworth said. “And that was before the pleasant bedtime story. Besides, my knees are still shaking to the point I doubt I can climb the stairs.”

His leg was aching, but Gabriel rose, walked to where she sat, and scooped Lady Collingsworth up in his arms again. She weighed little more than a sack of flour. She set up a mild protest, but he ignored her. Climbing the stairs made him grit his teeth against the pain in his sore thigh. Once at the top, he moved into her room and settled her upon the bed.

Her arms were still entwined around his neck, and he glanced down at her lovely features. Her eyes were sleepy looking despite her claim downstairs, and Gabriel wondered if the sherry had finally begun its work on her. To his surprise, she leaned toward him,
her lips so close he could easily kiss her. And he wanted to, he realized. She sniffed at him; then her plump lips parted and she ran her tantalizingly pink tongue across them.

“You really must take a bath,” she whispered. “You must be sweating again.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

It had taken Gabriel a great deal of willpower not to
lean forward and kiss Lady Amelia Collingsworth upstairs. She might have been drunk. Either because of the sherry or because of the scent he put off around her. Instead, he'd gently untangled her arms from around his neck and left her to find sleep. Gabriel wished he could do the same.

He was bone weary and his wounds ached. Mora had offered to dress them for him again, but he'd told her he'd do it himself. He was too damned tired to do it, so he sat in a chair by the fire in the parlor and rested his head against the cushion. As many things that should have been running through his head, he was surprised by the vision that kept haunting him.

It was the sight of Amelia upstairs when he'd gone back up to make certain the women had settled in. She had been wearing a soft cotton gown while Mora ran a brush through her long hair. Amelia's lids had been heavy, her lips puffy and pink, he thought perhaps from him kissing her that morning. Neither woman had noticed him slinking about upstairs checking that
all seemed as it should be. But when he looked at Lady Collingsworth, something had stirred inside of him. Lust? He had to assume so, since that was the only emotion he'd ever allowed himself to feel for women.

Gabriel had spent his life avoiding all emotion except the basest ones. He'd thrown himself into the running of Wulfglen and been content enough there among his horses, an occasional woman to see to his manly needs when they got the better of him. He was not like Armond, who needed social interaction with others, or Jackson, who had a weakness for liquor and women and indulged himself with both far too frequently. Gabriel considered himself the sensible one.

But what was happening at Collingsworth Manor made no sense. What were these creatures that could shift into the likeness of another? Then as easily shift into the shape of a wolf? What did they want with Amelia? And how long could he, Amelia, and Mora hold them off from inside the house? Were their chances better in the woods among the creatures? Could they avoid them and reach Wulfglen safely? His head hurt with all the questions rolling around inside of it and with lack of sleep.

He needed rest so he could think clearly. Gabriel tried to clear his mind, and somehow in the process he drifted off; at least he thought he did. He came awake with a start. He had heard something.

A ghostly figure stood upon the stairs, for Gabriel saw into the landing area from his vantage point inside the parlor. Her long blond hair floated around her as she walked to the end of the stairs and turned toward
him. The modest nightgown she wore was not so modest with the glow from the dying fire throwing her in silhouette. The shape of her long legs teased him as she moved steadily toward him. He watched, mesmerized, until she stood before him.

“Lady Collingsworth?” he asked softly. “What are you doing down here?”

She bent and placed a finger against his lips as if to quiet him. A moment later her mouth replaced the soft touch of her finger. He was too surprised to react. Gabriel simply sat, watching the smudges her lashes made against her cheeks, absorbing the soft feel of her mouth pressed against his. Her sweet perfume curled around him, fired his blood, and when she ran her tongue over his lips, he opened to her. He'd berated himself all afternoon for his behavior with her earlier, had told himself nothing like that would happen between them again.

And yet something about her drew him, had drawn him from the moment he saw her in London. He reached up and twisted his fingers into her hair, pulled her down onto his lap. Her round bottom snuggled against him sent a jolt of pleasure through him. He might have been half-asleep a moment ago, but his senses came fully awake now.

He penetrated her mouth with his tongue and she shyly met his challenge. Deeper he delved into her mouth, thinking he wanted to likewise penetrate her elsewhere. The elsewhere pressed harder against his lap, and his hips thrust upward involuntarily. She sucked in a breath, which released him from the spell
she had cast over him. Gabriel pulled back from her. Her eyes were only half-open when she glanced at him from beneath her long lashes.

“Go back to bed, Lady,” he said. “Go now, while you still can.”

She lowered her face as if ashamed, her long hair falling over her cheeks to shield her expression from him.

“It's not that I don't desire you,” he said, which felt odd, since he wasn't one to explain himself to anyone, much less worry about hurting their feelings. “It's wrong. You know it's wrong. Go back to bed.”

Graceful as a cat, she uncurled herself from his lap and turned away from him. He watched her walk away, the silhouette of her legs still nearly driving him to do something they would both regret. He wanted to stop her, to pull her back into his arms and continue the sin. He wanted it badly. Only when she had walked back up the stairs did he relax. He'd never met a woman like her, at least not a lady.

He'd thought most were silly, chaste creatures only interested in bonnets and gowns and shoes. And of course wealthy husbands. Amelia was a sensuous woman, funny at times, passionate. She intrigued him.

Was that what had happened to his brothers? Had they fallen under a woman's spell? Look where it had led them. To ruin. To marry. To forget the curse that hung over their heads. Gabriel was not in a position to be playing with fire. He had his hands full at the moment. He needed his wits about him, and Amelia Collingsworth greatly compromised his judgment.
Even now his thoughts were centered upon her, when he should be thinking about a plan to escape from Collingsworth Manor.

He rose and walked to the fading fire, using a poker to stoke the flames higher. All of his life he'd only been responsible for himself and the running of Wulfglen. The breeding of horses for sale. Now he was responsible for two strangers. One a girl and one very much a woman. How could he outwit these beasts of the forest? How could he best protect Lady Collingsworth and Mora? And, Lord help him, what if he failed?

She needed a bath and Amelia didn't care what strange
happenings were afoot at Collingsworth Manor; she intended to have one. Mora had helped her stoke the stove and put on large kettles of water from the inside pump to heat. They'd had Gabriel carry a copper tub down the stairs and put it before the fire in the parlor. The doors could be closed for privacy's sake. Amelia decided they would all bathe, especially Gabriel, who put off some odd scent that attracted her.

The man had acted strangely toward her all morning. He kept looking at her, as if he expected some type of reaction from her. Did he expect her to be embarrassed about what had happened between them upstairs yesterday? Truth be told, Amelia wasn't as embarrassed about it as she should be. She wasn't positive she was embarrassed at all. Instead, she was rather hoping for a repeat of the incident.

The terrifying incident that had taken place last night she chose not to dwell upon. If she did, she knew she'd go into hysterics. Instead she had focused on this
one normal task, something that made her feel as if her world was not crumbling around her.

“Will you accompany me upstairs?” she asked Wulf. “I thought we might go through the rooms and find you something better to wear. Not to mention a razor and a strop.”

He ran a hand over the dark whiskers on his cheeks. “You do realize we have more to worry about than how well turned out we all look?”

She frowned at him. “My mother has always said just because your life is a shambles is no reason to let yourself go.” When he rolled his gaze heavenward, she added, “Please, I need to do this right now. I don't want to think about last night, or later today, or tomorrow. I only want a hot bath.”

His eyes softened upon herâthe expression that turned her insides to pudding. “All right,” he said. “Mora, keep watch down here,” he instructed the girl. “So far, these creatures only seem active at night, but we mustn't let down our guard. Call up if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

Mora wiped an arm across her damp brow. “I will for a fact, my lord. I think the lady is right. It feels good to be doing something normal. And I've never seen the creatures stirring about except during the night hours, either. We can take some comfort in that.”

“Not too much,” Gabriel warned the girl before he turned and followed Amelia from the kitchen and up the stairs. They reached the second landing and she stopped by her room to fetch her soaps and a fresh change of clothes. She had trouble making a decision between a silk striped pink frock and a lilac taffeta.

“Neither.”

She turned to see Gabriel leaning against the door frame watching her. “Beg your pardon?”

“Neither gown,” he specified. “Something more sensible. Something you can move in.”

Amelia frowned and glanced back into her wardrobe. Truth was, she had nothing very sensible. She spotted a bland gray day dress and tugged it out.

“That one will do,” Wulf commented.

“It's ugly,” she protested. “I'm not even certain it's mine. Looks like something one of my maids would wear.”

“Serviceable then,” Wulf said. “Sensible.”

She wanted to argue. Perhaps she did need something easy to move in. Amelia hadn't thought to bring “running for one's life” clothes along with her. Perhaps it was just as well this gown had obviously been included with her things by mistake.

“Robert's shaving items should be in the room next door,” she said. “I'd fetch them for you, but I don't want to go back in there. Not ever.”

“Understandable,” Wulf said, and shrugged away from the door and disappeared into the hallway. She heard him in the next room a moment later. Amelia fetched a clean shift and a pair of drawers and hid them with her bundle.

“I have what I need.”

She turned to see Gabriel in the doorway again, a small bag in hand. Amelia eyed his dirty clothing. “I'm wondering if we might find something for you to wear in one of the other rooms. I know you're too big to wear anything other than Robert's nightshirts.”

Wulf shrugged. “His father was a big man. I'm sure Robert kept some of his things up here somewhere.”

Amelia moved toward him. “You knew them both, then? Robert's parents?”

Stepping back to allow her to pass, he answered, “When I was younger. Before â¦ before things changed.”

Lord Gabriel was obviously speaking about the supposed curse that haunted the Wulf brothers. The scandal that had caused their once influential family to be shunned by all of society, with the exception of a few â¦ well, only one whom she knew of, the Dowager Duchess of Brayberry.

“I don't believe you are cursed, you know,” she said, moving across the hall to the first room. “I believe your parents were unfortunate.”

“Given our circumstances, how convenient.”

She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “I danced with your eldest brother in public,” she declared. “I believe society will soon forgive you.”

A slight smile settled over his disturbing mouth. “Forgive us for what? Being insane?”

Amelia moved to a dark oak wardrobe and opened the doors. “Well, for everything, I suppose,” she answered.

“My heart leaps with joy over the possibility.”

His sarcasm made her lips twitch. “They are a rather boorish lot,” she admitted, realizing the garments inside of the wardrobe were mostly old linens and such. She closed the doors and moved past Wulf back into the hallway. “I, for one, find all their rules and silly traditions a bit tiresome. Scandalous people are much more interesting.”

“Which is why you married a man you did not love to please them all.”

Amelia wheeled around, nearly running into Wulf. “What do you know of love?” she demanded. “Who are you to judge me?”

He wore a hint of a sarcastic smile. It faded. “As you well know, I am no one. And you're right; I know nothing of love. Nor do I care to.”

Although Amelia had declared to him that she did not believe in love, it stung somewhat to hear him echo her sentiments. She supposed it was all right for men to be in love with her; she simply would not return so strong or so silly an emotion. “Then we both agree on something.” She turned back around and marched into the closest bedchamber. Together, she and Gabriel searched drawers and the wardrobe. They found nothing but were more fortunate two rooms down the hallway.

“And what was last night about?”

They hadn't spoken since they had both declared a disinterest in love. Both were going through a wardrobe where a few items of clothing hung. Items that looked as if they'd come close to fitting Gabriel.

She glanced at him. “Last night?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don't pretend nothing happened.”

Her stomach suddenly twisted. “You mean the man â¦ or whatever he was? Please, it disturbs me to think of it. I wanted to forget for a while longer.”

BOOK: The Cursed One

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