The Cursed One (9 page)

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Authors: Ronda Thompson

BOOK: The Cursed One
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Mora gasped. “But won't we be in more danger outside, amongst them?” she asked. “At least here we have walls to protect us. To keep them out.”
He shook his head. “It would be easy enough for them to force us out. They could wait until we've run out of food and are too weakened to fight them. Foul our water supply. Any number of things.”
Amelia shivered. She hadn't thought of any of those scenarios. She wondered if even now the creatures plotted something sinister against them.
“He's right, Mora,” she said. “If we left by daylight, if we pack supplies, we might have a chance.”
“I'd rather starve to death than be eaten by one of them,” Mora muttered.
“We have decided,” Gabriel said to the girl. “You must come with us, Mora. I can't in good conscience leave you behind.”
Amelia felt a thrill race through her over his chivalry, if it was followed by a shudder of fear over what they had decided. At least they were planning an escape. Planning felt better than doing nothing. Mora, she sensed, was not convinced. Amelia reached across the table and patted her hand.
“We will plan more after we've eaten. I'll need you to help with the supplies. You'll know better what we should take than I would as far as food—”
“Ladies,” Gabriel interrupted.
Amelia glanced across the table at him. He sat very still, his nostrils slightly flared. “There is no time to plan,” he said. “They've set the house on fire.”
She thought he must be joking, but then, no, he wouldn't tease about a thing like that. Amelia couldn't
smell smoke. But wait, yes, just a whiff. Then there was no time to think. Gabriel sprang into action.
 
Gabriel rose from his chair. He glanced around the
kitchen and saw the smoke seeping in from behind the cellar door. Damn, they would burn the house from the ground up. Reaching out, he grabbed Mora's arm and pulled her up from her chair, glad that Amelia had the sense to leap to her feet.
“Come on,” he said to the women. “We must go now.”
“But, but shouldn't we try to put it out?” Mora choked. “What about supplies, clothing? We can't just run out into the night with nothing!”
“We must go!” Gabriel repeated. “They'd expect us to take the time to gather what we can. Our best chance to escape is now, at this very moment.”
“The pistol,” Amelia breathed. “You do have that?”
Rather than answer, he removed it from the band of his trousers. “Out the front!”
Amelia easily followed into step behind him, but the girl dug in her heels. Gabriel dragged her along. Since he held the pistol in one hand and Mora's arm in the other, Amelia hurried forward and fumbled with the locks. She had the door open a moment later. They were greeted by a man, his eyes glittering, his pointed teeth bared in a snarl.
Gabriel lifted the pistol and shot the man. Mora screamed and Gabriel pulled her behind him, all of them stumbling over the dead man. Gabriel released Mora long enough to shout, “Run for the trees!”
The girl froze. Amelia took hold of her arm, pulling Mora along with her as she ran. Gabriel followed, the
pistol cocked and ready, glancing in front of them, behind them, wherever the threat might spring from. He was surprised they weren't suddenly rushed. This was what the creatures had wanted, to get them out of the house into the open.
And like he suspected, they might have believed Gabriel and the women would put up more of a fight from inside of the house or at least that they would take time to gather what they could. At the moment, Gabriel had the advantage. He wouldn't waste it.
The pistol was firmly clutched in his hand as he ran after the women. Even injured, Gabriel easily caught up with Amelia and Mora. The girl tripped over a log and he understood that he had advantages the women did not. He saw clearly in the coming dark. He took Amelia's cold hand in his and instructed her to hold on to Mora; then he led them at as fast a pace as he dared push them, through the woods, into the thickness of the trees, into the thickness of the danger he sensed all around them.
Gabriel knew a shortcut to Wulfglen. As boys, he and his brothers had used it often to visit Robert. On horseback the journey took only a few hours; on foot, being pursued, it might take days. He stopped for a moment to get his bearings, to allow Amelia and Mora to catch their breath; then he pushed them onward. Gabriel now recalled a place where they might spend the night in relative safety. It was an animal den that he and his brothers had discovered while exploring the area around the swimming pond. Gabriel and the women needed water, and the pond would provide that for them. If the water wasn't the cleanest, it would suffice.
“This way,” he instructed.
Summer had almost ended and now Amelia felt a chill in
the night air. Gabriel finally stopped and allowed them to rest. The moonlight glistened on a small pond and it was much easier to see out in the open, but around them there were no night sounds. It was eerie. She rubbed her arms and drew the cool night air into her lungs. Her throat was dry, either from fear or from their harried journey through the woods.
She watched Gabriel. He stood very still as if listening, as if sniffing the air. Surely he wasn't doing that, she told herself. He was just breathing. After a few more moments, he seemed to relax.
“Drink from the pond,” he said to them. “The water isn't the cleanest, but I don't suppose it will kill us.”
Mora didn't hesitate. She quickly went to the water's edge, bent, and began to drink from the pond. Amelia wet her lips, but there was little moisture in her mouth to aid her effort. Now Gabriel had bent beside Mora and also drank from his cupped hands. Amelia forced herself to move and bend beside Gabriel.
“What does it taste like?” she asked him.
“Fish,” he answered.
Amelia deplored fish. She shuddered.
“It's not that bad,” Mora offered, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her dress. “But probably a good thing it's dark and we can't see it. I'll wager it has a green tint to it.”
The thought turned Amelia's stomach. “I believe I'll just wait until we come across water that is cleaner.”
Gabriel lifted his head and glanced at her. “There is a creek that runs a ways through the woods,” he admitted. “But it may be two days before we reach it. Drink now.”
His tone was commanding. Amelia wanted to balk; at the same time, she wanted a drink. She drew in a deep breath and cupped her hands into the chilly water. Her first sip gagged her. Gabriel had not been exaggerating. It did taste like fish. She forced herself to drink even though the water tasted horrible.
“What are we going to do now?” Mora asked.
The moonlight shone down upon him, highlighting the silver-blond streaks in his hair. “I know a place where we can sleep,” he answered. “It's just over here.”
They all rose from the pond's edge. Gabriel led them to what appeared to be a large hole in the ground. “You'll have to climb in,” he said to them. “I'll go first. You follow.”
“In there?” Amelia wrinkled her nose. “It looks dirty.”
Gabriel sighed. “It's in the ground; of course it's dirty. Would you rather stay out here and take your chances with whatever might be tracking us?”
Amelia wouldn't, but she hated small enclosed spaces. “It looks awfully dark down there,” she commented.
Mora stepped forward. “I'll go after Lord Gabriel,” she said. “I don't like small places, though,” she grumbled, and Amelia could have kissed her for complaining.
Gabriel scurried down the hole. Due to his size, it was a tight fit, and just watching him made Amelia short of breath. A moment later he disappeared.
Mora nudged Amelia. “Wonder if anything else is down in that hole,” she said. “A body finds a hole in the ground, there is usually an animal that goes with it.”
The thought raised the fine hairs on Amelia's arms. “That is not helping,” she said. “The only consolation, I suppose, is if there is an animal down there, it will attack Lord Gabriel first.”
Mora surprised her by giggling. She had never heard the girl laugh before. It eased some of the tension Amelia felt over having to climb into the hole.
“All right, come on, Mora,” Gabriel called, and his voice echoed. “Hurry; we need the cover.”
The girl sobered quickly. She took a deep breath and began to climb into the hole. Amelia couldn't watch without feeling a choking sensation close her throat. She glanced around. Here she was in the dark of night in the middle of the woods with two virtual strangers. Her gown was stained and dirty. She had a fishy taste in her mouth, and for all she knew, she was the target of the eyes of some creature that could turn into a man or a wolf.
A scent caught her attention. Wild mint? While Mora made her descent into the hole, Amelia searched for the source of the smell. She found the patch about the time Gabriel called to her. Gathering up a handful, she stuffed the leaves into her pocket and returned to
the hole. As frightened of dark, enclosed places as Amelia was, Gabriel was right. She'd rather face what was down there with them than stay up here and face whatever might come along all alone.
Amelia took a deep breath and began to climb. Dirt crumbled around her as she scurried down the hole. The den beneath was larger than she would have thought; at least she could gather that much from what little moonlight spilled down from above. Gabriel reached out and pulled her to him, and the three of them huddled together on the dirt floor. Due to their close proximity, Amelia gladly shared her mint leaves.
After huddling together for warmth, Gabriel instructed the women to get some sleep. Amelia couldn't sleep. She was snuggled up against Gabriel, and his hard, strong body did not make a good pillow. He did radiate body heat, though, and for that reason alone she wasn't tempted to find a more comfortable position. Amelia rested on one side of him and Mora on the other. She could already hear Mora's soft snores and envied the girl for finding sleep so easily under their current conditions.
“We'll have to tease her about her snoring tomorrow.”
Amelia jumped. She had thought Gabriel had drifted off to sleep. “A pound says she won't crack a smile,” she whispered. “Mora doesn't have much of a sense of humor.”
Gabriel shifted so that he was facing her. “I' m surprised by yours,” he said. “When I saw you in London, it wasn't something I would have likened with you.”
Amelia drew herself up on one elbow. “You remember me, then?” The thought pleased her more than it
should. She kept forgetting that she was in mourning. It didn't help that she had never seen Robert's body. It was as if her mind refused to acknowledge his passing, even though Gabriel had told her that she must.
“Yes,” he finally admitted. “You stuck in my head for some reason.”
Knowing she shouldn't confess as much, she said, “And you in mine.”
“Not too awfully long,” he said drolly. “You did marry.”
Amelia wondered what else she was supposed to have done? Waited for him? Tried to arrange a chance meeting with him through her friend Rosalind? Begged to be invited to Wulfglen so that she might be around him? “I did what was expected of me,” she clipped. “You're a man. You have no idea the pressure society and one's parents put upon a girl about making the right match. I wanted a life of my own. It was the only way I could have one.”
He reached forward and brushed a stray lock from her forehead. “Now what will you do?” he asked.
She fought down both a flush of pleasure from his touch and rising hysteria. Amelia hadn't had time to think about what she would do. All she had time to think about was what was happening now.
“I don't really know,” she answered. “I suppose I'll return to my parents' home, although it will be awkward. I am a widow, but I have never been a wife.”
Wulf was silent for a moment; then he said, “Young widows, I imagine, are every bit as in demand on the marriage market as young debutantes.”
Amelia supposed he was right, but the realization
brought her little comfort. She'd already been through the husband hunt once; she wasn't that anxious to return to it again.
“Tell me what you know of my brothers and their wives,” he said. “Does all seem well with them? When last I left London in search of Jackson, Armond was having trouble with his wife's stepbrother. Was the issue resolved?”
Mention of Rosalind's stepbrother made Amelia shiver. The man had been handsome enough, but he exuded an air of evil that had made Amelia's skin crawl. “The stepbrother is dead,” she answered. “A house fire. His mother perished in it along with him.”
Wulf's eyes glittered in the darkness, but that might easily be due to the moonlight spilling in from above. “Too bad for the stepmother,” he commented. “But then, do they seem happy together? Armond and Rosalind?”
“Oh yes,” she assured him. “If I believed in love, I would say they are in it. And Jackson and Lucinda, as well. Rosalind is to have a child,” she informed him. “She hasn't said anything, but it's obvious really, even if she chooses gowns that do well at disguising her fuller figure.”
“A child? And Jackson has a son already?”
She didn't know whether to voice her opinion and the opinion of many regarding Jackson's son. Why not? Amelia decided. Who knew if either of them would be alive tomorrow? “I don't think the child is Jackson's,” she confided. “The babe looks nothing like him, but your brother seems to care for the child as if he were his own, which I suppose is what is most important.”
Gabriel snorted. “I cannot see him in the role. If it
were Jackson in this position with two women, he would not be merely sleeping.”
Amelia should act shocked by his insinuation, but she was too tired. She merely said what was on her mind. “I think if a woman doesn't wish to have a witch put a curse upon her, she will not give Jackson Wulf a second glance these days.”
“Do you believe in such things, Amelia? In witches and curses?”
The use of her given name should upset her, given their short acquaintance, but it did not. Amelia liked him to use the more intimate form of address with her, and she had to admit she liked thinking of him as Gabriel rather than Lord Gabriel. What had he asked her? About witches and curses and if she believed in such things.
“Two days ago, no. Now, I'm not so sure.”
He leaned closer. “Do such things frighten you?”
Again, she was too tired to be anything but honest. “Yes.”
Closer yet he came, his lips nearly brushing hers. “Do I frighten you?”
Peering at him through her lashes, she examined whether anything she felt at the moment might be related to fear. Yes, her heart beat faster, but the reaction did not stem from being afraid.
“Why would I be frightened of you?” she asked. “You are my protector. My best friend is married to your brother. I might be dead, or worse, if not for you. Why do you ask me if I am frightened of you?”
“Regardless of the other things you mentioned, I am a stranger to you.”
How could Amelia tell him that he was not a stranger? That she had memorized his features? That he had visited her in dreams? That she had thought about kissing him long before an opportunity was presented? That she had thought of doing more than kissing him? She couldn't tell him.
“I suppose you are,” she admitted. “But at the moment, you're all I have that stands between me and whatever those creatures want.”
He pulled back and settled upon his back, staring up at the moonlight. “Do be honest.”
She giggled over his dry tone and snuggled beside him for warmth. They didn't speak further, and without the distraction of conversation, Amelia became totally aware of him. Of the slight sound of his breathing, the hard feel of him pressed against her. And his scent. She didn't always notice it. But she noticed it now and tried to identify what it reminded her of.
Spice. Not as strong as clove, not as sweet as cinnamon, but something in between. The scent curled around her and she found herself wondering if it would feel different to kiss him when his cheeks were smooth rather than whiskered? Would it feel different to have him pressed against her while they were lying down, rather than standing?
“You kissed me when you were walking in your sleep.”
He startled her again. And, good lord, it was as if he knew she was thinking of kissing. “What?” she asked.
Gabriel turned on his side again. “I wasn't going to tell you, but you came downstairs and you kissed me.”
Amelia was glad it was dark. Her cheeks were suddenly
burning. “Are you lying to me? I swear I do not remember anything happening between us.”
“I' m not lying,” he assured her. “But it was different than when you kissed me upstairs.”
His shifted position brought them closer, or rather, it aligned them in a disturbing way. Body parts against body parts. “I'm thinking it was you who kissed me upstairs,” she pointed out. “And different in what way?”
She supposed his silence meant he was thinking upon the matter. “You lacked … passion,” he finally answered. “It was as if you were only going through the motions.”
It was rude enough to mention the incident if it had indeed taken place, but then to criticize her kissing technique was even worse. “I was asleep,” she reminded him. “And obviously not inspired enough to wake.”

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