The Cursed One (8 page)

Read The Cursed One Online

Authors: Ronda Thompson

BOOK: The Cursed One
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Gabriel shook his head. “No, I didn't mean that. I meant later, when you came downstairs.”
Amelia had trouble recalling much of last night. She strongly suspected Mora had doctored her tea so she
would sleep. Suddenly she thought she knew what must have happened. “Oh good lord, don't tell me I was sleepwalking.”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
Heat rushed into her cheeks. “A nasty habit I've had since childhood. What did I do? Sing? Dance? Play an instrument? Lord knows I was invited over as a guest more often than other girls when I was growing up for just that reason. I understand I am quite entertaining.”
He blinked again. “Quite,” he assured her. “And you remember nothing?”
She tried. “No, not a thing. What did I do?”
He glanced away and ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing. You just came downstairs and stood over me for a moment, then went back to bed.”
Amelia sighed. “Thank heavens. I've been known to carry on whole conversations while I'm asleep. It's very embarrassing. I warned Mora about it while she was brushing my hair, maybe sensing that events of the past two days might set me into motion. Since we are bed partners for safety's sake, I thought she should know all of my bad habits.”
Gabriel was the one who had insisted the two women sleep together in the same room. Amelia had been uncomfortable at first, but she found she felt safer with someone else in the room with her.
“I guess that explains what you were doing,” he finally responded, although he still looked a little confused. “I'm glad to know you sleepwalk. I won't have to wonder what you are doing if it happens again.”
“And it might,” she assured him, holding a white lawn shirt against him and deciding the fit would be acceptable.
“I do it more when I'm upset over something. Or so I assume, since reports of my wild antics usually have centered around an event which had disturbed me in some way.”
“And you are certain you don't remember anything?”
Glancing up at him, she answered, “I'm positive. Why? Did I do something I should remember?”
He stared down at her for a moment, than answered, “No.”
Amelia shrugged and laid the shirt over her arm along with her gowns. “If you find a pair of trousers, bring them downstairs. You don't mind if Mora and I have our baths first, do you?”
Gabriel glanced down at himself. “Probably a wise idea, since I will get the water the dirtiest. It's been a while since I've had the luxury. I'm sure the water is heated now. I'll be down in a moment to carry it to the tub for you.”
“Your shoulder,” she worried.
He shrugged. “It's nothing. I've had worse scrapes.”
They stood staring at each other until the moment grew awkward. Amelia wondered if he was remembering yesterday morning when they were alone together upstairs. She was. Remembering and wishing he would kiss her again, regardless of how inappropriate her thoughts were. Perhaps she simply wanted another diversion. Anything to keep from thinking about last night and what she had seen outside.
“Did you want something else?”
His voice, already low pitched, bordered on seductive. She roused herself. “No,” she answered. Since she wasn't certain what to say, she walked from the room
and downstairs. After she deposited the clothing and necessities for bathing in the parlor, she returned to the kitchen. Steam whistled from the kettles on the stove. She glanced around, looking for Mora.
The door to the root cellar stood open. The heavy items Gabriel had stacked against the door were moved out of the way. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Why was the door open? And where was Mora?
“Mora?” Amelia called down the stairs. “Mora, are you down there?”
Silence.
Amelia took a step into the doorway. “Mora, answer me!” she called again.
“It's me, my lady,” Mora finally responded. “Just gathering some potatoes for a stew tonight. I thought I'd told Lord Gabriel to fetch me some, but couldn't find any upstairs.”
“You should not be down there!” Amelia called. “Come back up this instant!”
“I know, been telling myself over and over it's not right, me being down here by myself, but I didn't want to ask the lord to come down here again. His body will not heal if he keeps exerting himself like he's been doing. And besides, he said we were safe in the daylight hours.”
“What's going on?” Gabriel stood at the kitchen entrance, a pair of dark trousers draped over his arm. “What's that door doing open?”
“It's Mora,” Amelia told him. “She's gone down to fetch some potatoes.”
“Foolish girl,” he swore, then draped the trousers over the back of a chair and crossed the room. He was
through the doorway, moving down the stairs in a matter of seconds.
Amelia held her breath until the two of them came back up a moment later. Mora had a few potatoes cradled in her apron and Gabriel looked as if steam might come out of his ears. He quickly closed the door and began stacking items against it again.
“Never go down there alone!” he said to Mora once he'd finished. “What were you thinking? Are you daft?”
The girl's eyes filled with tears. “I just wanted to make a nice stew … and I didn't want you to hurt your shoulder again. It won't mend if you keep moving things about. Besides, you said yourself whatever is in the woods, they don't come out until dark.”
He got in the girl's face. “What if I'm wrong about that? What if one of those creatures had been waiting down there for you? Not only did you put yourself in danger, but the rest of us by leaving the door open into the house.”
Tears slid down Mora's cheeks. “I listened for a long while before I went down. I knew no one was there.”
He opened his mouth, Amelia felt certain to continue berating the girl, but she intervened. “Please stop,” she commanded him. She walked over and placed an arm around Mora's shoulders. “Can't you see how much you've upset her? She didn't mean any harm.”
Gabriel took a step back, but the anger remained stamped on his handsome features. “I need Mora to understand how dangerous what she just did was,” he persisted. “Do you understand, Mora?”
The girl nodded. “It was foolish. I'm just so used to doing for others instead of having done for me, it seemed natural for me to handle fetching the potatoes.”
Amelia squeezed Mora's shoulders. “We're all safe,” she said to Gabriel. “The girl understands that she made a mistake. Please carry the kettles into the parlor and fill the tub. We'll let Mora bathe first so she can collect herself.”
“All right,” he finally agreed, but only after staring at Mora long enough to make the girl burst into fresh sobs. “After we have seen to our cleanliness, we will discuss what we need to do to get ourselves out of this predicament.”
Sensing it was best to be agreeable with Gabriel when his temper was up, Amelia nodded. She steered Mora to a table and helped her unload her apron of potatoes as Gabriel set about hefting the heavy kettles into the parlor in order to fill the tub. Amelia had claimed they were all safe, but in the back of her mind, in the far recesses, she knew that was a lie. They were safe for the moment. But for how much longer?
Mora had gone sniffling to her bath. Amelia felt rather
sorry for the girl and had offered to help her, but Mora had shaken her head and mumbled she wanted to be alone. Amelia admitted she had probably only made the offer because she'd never seen Mora without that dreadful bonnet covering her hair. Amelia was always the first to fall asleep and the last to wake; therefore, she never saw Mora undress for bed or re-dress in the morning. Amelia did suspect Mora had tried her perfume and could hardly blame the girl, so she'd made sure to lay out her soaps and such to be shared.
While the girl saw to her bath, Amelia sat at the kitchen table across from Gabriel. He wore a brooding expression, and she kept silent for the most part. What Mora had done was foolish and dangerous, but as Amelia had already pointed out to him, no harm had come from it.
“You must let it go,” she finally said.
He glanced up as if he'd forgotten she sat across from him. “I don't understand what possessed her to do something so foolish,” he said.
“She's young,” Amelia defended the servant. “And
as she said, used to doing for others rather than having things done for her.”
His expression did not soften. “Still, you'd think she'd be too frightened to venture outside of the house alone.”
Amelia shrugged. “She said she listened at the door to make certain she heard no one stirring about down there. She also said she didn't want you to strain your injuries. Mora was just being considerate.”
He grunted in response but said nothing further. The silence stretched between them. The air grew thick and Amelia had trouble breathing … and his scent, it seemed to waft around her head. She glanced across the table and saw him staring at her. She could get lost in his deep green eyes … and she did. His pupils seemed to dilate as she stared, to grow long and slitted rather than round. His gaze lowered to her mouth and she swore her lips tingled as if he'd touched them with his own again.
“Pardon me, but I've finished my bath.”
Only when Gabriel glanced away could Amelia do the same. Mora looked well scrubbed and she had fetched a clean work dress, but the girl still wore the ugly bonnet upon her head.
“Don't you find that bonnet stifling in the house, Mora?” Amelia asked. “Please don't feel as if you must wear it to keep up an appearance of servitude. Lord Gabriel and I don't care under the circumstances.”
The girl bowed her head. Her cheeks bloomed with pink. “It's against my religion to show my hair, my lady. To do so is a sign of pride, and everyone knows pride is a sin.”
Amelia glanced across the table at Gabriel. He merely lifted a brow. Although she'd heard of such a religion, Amelia had never really thought pride should be a sin. If one couldn't take pride in their appearance, then what? Realizing it was a rather shallow thought, Amelia rose from the table.
“I'll hurry so the water stays warm for you,” she said to Gabriel. “Be nice,” she added under her breath.
 
Be nice? No woman had ever ordered Gabriel to be
nice, well, except his mother. He watched Mora as she tied an apron around her slim waist and set about peeling the potatoes she'd risked all of their lives to fetch. He didn't want to be mean to the girl. Her tears had affected him, but she must understand what she'd done had put not only herself in danger but him and Amelia as well.
“I apologize for being so short with you, Mora,” he finally said. “I was upset that you would put us all at risk. I only wanted you to understand the seriousness of what you did.”
“I do understand,” she said softly, never turning to look at him. “What I did was wrong and I won't do anything like that again.”
He tried to relax. Ever since he walked into the kitchen and saw the cellar door open, his body had been poised to defend. He liked to fight, Gabriel admitted. In the past, it had been a way to relieve the tension that arose from being a solitary figure—from his infrequent visits with women and his even more infrequent visits to London. He'd been involved in many a tavern
brawl over the years, but he'd never faced what he was facing now. He wasn't even certain what he was facing.
“These creatures, Mora. You said they came shortly after you were employed by the head housekeeper here. What did they do to run everyone off?”
She kept her position across the room, wielding her small knife with precision as she peeled potatoes. “I didn't see them do anything,” she admitted. “But Constance, the laundress, she said one came to her one night as a man and told her everyone should leave. Then she said the man turned into a wolf before her very eyes.”
Gabriel scratched the whiskers upon his chin. He was looking forward to a shave and a bath. “And they all fled, strictly on her word?”
Mora glanced at him. She drew herself up straight. “The woman was respected among the rest of the staff. She'd been with the young lord's parents. No one thought she was lying.”
“Odd,” he said, mostly to himself. “That it took so little to convince them all to flee.”
“Pardon me for saying so, my lord, but it is not a little thing to see a man turn into a wolf, or the other way around. Is it?”
Her stare unnerved him somewhat. As if she looked deeper inside of him than he wanted her to see. As if she knew the truth about him and his family. But she couldn't know. All believed the curse that haunted the Wulf brothers was insanity. No one knew the truth. Or did they? He wondered about his brothers, now married. Had they escaped the curse? Was it over for
them? He needed to know, but he wasn't going to find out anything stuck at Collingsworth Manor.
“I suppose it is odd,” he finally answered her. “If one believes in such things.”
“Seeing is believing,” she commented, turning back to her task. “You and the lady have both seen now.”
Mora's speaking of the lady turned his thoughts to the parlor. Was Amelia naked now, stretched out relaxing in her bath? As much as he tried to steer his thoughts from such visions, he couldn't seem to help himself. Gabriel still had trouble believing Amelia did not remember coming downstairs last night and practically seducing him. Was she pretending she didn't remember?
“Mora, did Lady Collingsworth say anything to you about sleepwalking?”
The girl took the potatoes she'd peeled and sliced, dumping them in a pot steaming upon the stove. “Yes. She warned me that she sometimes walks in her sleep so as not to frighten me. Now that we're sharing a bed and all. Never seen anyone who did that myself, but have heard of it.”
“Did you hear her get out of bed last night?”
Mora turned and looked at him. “No. Slept like the dead, I was so exhausted. Did she do that last night?”
At least he knew Amelia had not lied upstairs. “Yes. She came downstairs, although she doesn't remember it today.”
“Poor woman,” Mora clucked, turning back to her stew making. “To be widowed on her wedding night, and now all this. She's holding up better than I imagined
a dainty social flower like her would do, though, don't you agree, my lord?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“And so kind, she is,” Mora added. “Never worked for the upper crust before coming to this house, but I'd heard not to expect kindness from them. I'd heard they were all too caught up in themselves to care for the likes of a servant. Unless she was pretty and the lord wanted … well, you know.”
Gabriel didn't know, not really. When he was growing up, before the curse visited their father and their lives became hell, they had servants. Gabriel didn't recall anyone in his family being mean to them; he didn't really recall them at all. They were like ghosts in a house who kept everything running smoothly. He'd had to learn to do for himself. Men wanted the coin the Wulfs offered enough to work for them, stable help and the like, but not women.
If the Wulfs wanted their clothes laundered, they took them to a woman in a nearby village called Hempshire. Women were willing enough to take the Wulfs' coin as long as they didn't have to work for them at Wulfglen.
He missed his home, his brothers, and suddenly he knew that he, Amelia, and Mora must leave Collingsworth Manor and make it to Wulfglen afoot. Strength in numbers, and the numbers seemed to be on the wrong side at the moment. He would tell Amelia and Mora as soon as he'd had a chance to clean up. He would tell them over the dinner Mora busied herself preparing.
Amelia entered a surprisingly short time later looking pink and clean and rather embarrassed by the drabness of her gown. “The bath is all yours,” she said to him. “But I'm afraid you'll smell like Mora and me because of the soaps we used.”
He shrugged. “A definite improvement over the way I smell at the moment.” He rose from behind the table, feeling the pull in his thigh where Mora had dug the ball from his flesh and stitched him back together. His shoulder ached, as well, but if Mora thought he wasn't healing properly, no telling what task she might take upon herself next. He did his best to hide his limp as he left the room.
The parlor was pleasantly warm and steamy. He closed his eyes for a moment and simply breathed in the scent of perfumed soap. The scent of Amelia … and he supposed now Mora, as well. Gabriel hurriedly stripped from his clothing, glad to part with the stained buckskins. He removed the bandages from his wounds and climbed into the warm water. A long sigh of contentment left his lips when he settled back into the tub to soak. Since there was no one waiting for use of the tub, he took his time.
 
“Do you think he's all right in there?” Amelia asked
Mora. Gabriel had been attending to his bath for a long while.
Stirring the stew she now had simmering over the stove, Mora shrugged. “Imagine he's just enjoying a soak. You can always go see about him if you're worried.”
Mora must know her suggestion was improper, but then, being from a lower class, perhaps she did not. If Amelia had voiced such a question to one of her own maids, she would have scurried to check upon the situation. Amelia missed her staff in London, but Robert had assured her one of his staff would be qualified to take over the role of lady's maid.
Of course no staff had been at Collingsworth Manor when they'd arrived. She supposed she should tell Mora it wouldn't be proper for Amelia to go and check on him, that she might accidentally catch him in a state of undress, but why bother under the circumstances?
Now there was an intriguing thought. Seeing Gabriel Wulf naked. Amelia had already seen him bare from the waist up, had seen his leg … she couldn't imagine how impressive the entire width and breadth of him unclothed might be. Well, she could imagine, if she tried. But she would not.
“Can I help you?” she asked Mora, needing a distraction from her wicked thoughts.
“You can set bowls out for us,” Mora suggested. “The stew will be ready shortly. Wasn't much to put in it. No meat, I'm afraid. I do have half a loaf of bread and a bit of cheese. That will have to satisfy us.”
It sounded wonderful to Amelia. All of her life she'd been fed the finest food prepared by the finest cooks, and now, here she was, helping the kitchen help set the table. And looking forward to a meal she might have once turned her spoiled little nose up at. How drastically her life had changed in the space of one day. She would not have believed something like this could happen.
And especially to her. For some reason, she'd always thought being wealthy and privileged came with a certain degree of safety.
She'd always been protected, coddled, given the finest of everything. Seldom had she done anything or gone anywhere in her life when someone wasn't along with her. It was, in a way, stifling to her. Perhaps that was why she rebelled so much of the time. Now she'd give anything to be surrounded by servants and her family.
Mora had already set bowls and spoons on the counter beside the pump. Amelia simply had to transfer everything over to the table. It didn't take long. She was in the process of arranging the last bowl when Gabriel returned from his bath. The sight of him nearly took her breath away.
He was dressed in a white lawn shirt, open at the neck, and a pair of black trousers that fit him almost indecently snugly. They outlined the powerful shape of his thighs. His hair was wet and slicked back from his chiseled features, his face now smooth as a baby's behind.
“Oh my,” she couldn't help but breathe. He smiled at her, and she swore her knees went weak.
Gabriel walked to the table and sobered. “I have made a plan while I soaked and wish to share it with the both of you.”
Mora hefted the pot of stew to the table, ladling a small potion into her and Amelia's bowls and a considerably larger portion into Gabriel's. The girl then fetched bread and cheese. Gabriel seated both women. He settled into his own chair.
“We need to get away from here,” he said. “We are too vulnerable trapped as we are in the house.”

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