The Forgotten (4 page)

She filled up the claw foot bathtub with what precious little hot water was in the tank and threw some lavender oil into the water.

She slipped off her smock, and removed the black onyx and white sapphire bracelets she wore and placed them on the counter next to the sink. Sighing blissfully, she stepped into the warm bath, and sank down to a sitting position. Reaching for her lavender scented soap, she scrubbed it over her body and sighed contentedly.

She leaned back, closed her eyes and had a most wonderful day dream about Lucan.

She snapped out of her hazy daydream when he shifted into his wolf skin and lunged at her with his wicked looking teeth showing, while he snarled like a crazed hound from the Dark Underworld. 

Neri’s eyes snapped wide open. Her heart almost pounded straight out of her chest. Shaken, and breathing heavily, she splashed water around as it sloshed over the top of the tub and hit the floor.

Gulping in a breath of air, she sank beneath the water, and opened her eyes to look up at the ceiling above. She couldn’t hide from him forever. She’d have to confront him at some point in her human form and hope that they would get along like two peas in a pod.

Breaking out of the water, she rubbed her hands over her eyes and blinked the water away. The heavy scent of lavender that permeated the air made her sleepy. She’d love to have a lay down and snooze the afternoon away.

Unfortunately, she still had things to do and as much as she wished she could hide away from the world for a few hours, she couldn’t.

Standing up on wobbly legs, she reached for a towel and wrapped it around her body. The air was still quite chilly. Her helper, Bianca had obviously not been tending to the fires properly, which meant the storm shutters in the other rooms would not be drawn. She was more than likely passed out in the kitchen downstairs, a state she was normally in, as she was of the sort to believe that she could drown her sorrows in the bottle. She just hoped that someone was tending bar—if not Bianca, then her sister, Christi.

Not that she could totally blame Bianca—she was horribly disfigured thanks to the bloody bastard, Lord Ulwyn.

Neri washed her chemise out in the sink and hung it to dry. Reaching for her bracelets she put them on her wrists. Leaving the bathing room, she padded across the hall to her bedroom, shut the door and latched it securely so she wouldn’t have any unexpected visitors.

Lightning once again lit up the bedchamber, as the thunder rumbled through, vibrating the Tavern.

Neri had grown accustomed to locking her door as many a ruffian had attempted to steal into her sanctuary thinking they could get a piece of her tail, and they had gotten the shock of their lives. She didn’t take kindly to anyone invading her privacy. The huntress blood in her veins allowed her the ability to defend against anyone who decided she was an easy mark.

The room was unusually warm, it felt as if a fire had been started in the hearth. She looked to the fireplace and sure enough, a fire did crackle in the hearth.

“This used to be my bedchamber.”

The deep rumbling familiar male voice made her jump, and she let out a little scream.

She’d almost dropped the towel to the ground. Whirling about, she clutched the towel to her body as if her life depended on it.

“How the bloody hell did you get up here?” she demanded, gasping at the sight that awaited her on her bed.

It was as if all her fantasies had finally come true. He was a perfect specimen of man. She licked her lips, wincing when she realized what she’d just done—hoping he hadn’t seen it.

She met the gaze of Sir Lucan Wylde, newly invested Duke of Cambria. He stared at her intently and then broke the connection as he moved to draw the storm shutters across the windows. He’d made himself comfortable.

He was bare chested, obviously the heat from the fire had turned out to be too much for him. The muscles on his chest made her want to rub her hands over them, and kiss a trail down to his….

She started. She had to snap out of the dreamy haze he’d put her in.

His black hair was dishevelled and Gods help her, his vibrant brown eyes were filled with a burning longing that crept into her and touched her soul. She shivered at the soul altering sensation.

“I was born in this Tavern, how do you think I got up here?”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “The secret passages.”

Dash it all, she’d forgotten about those.

“How about you drop that towel?” he asked, his eyes dancing. She wanted to obey him, and actually had to check herself before she complied.

He had a bewitching way about him, one that affected her deeply. If she wasn’t careful, he’d have her climbing into bed with him. Allowing him to completely ravish her body seemed like a rather good idea at the moment.

Her cheeks blazed red, and she bit her tongue, to keep herself from responding.

Lucan it would seem, was going to be the death of her.

“You need to leave now,” Neri said, taking a step toward him, and then feeling the undeniable sexual energy crackling between them, she backed up, attempting to put as much distance between them as possible.

“I disagree. Perhaps you’re the one that needs to leave. This is after all my family’s Tavern.”

Her mind raced. She couldn’t organize her thoughts well enough to actually give him an argument to dispute his statement.

“Your mother willed me this establishment on her deathbed, so technically it’s rightfully mine. She didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands as the Wylde Family has run this place for hundreds of years, and she came to view me as her family.”

He chuckled. “You expect me to believe that? I had hoped for more from you.”

“I do not lie,” she said, looking away from him. She couldn’t allow herself to connect again with his hauntingly beautiful eyes.

They would enthrall her and she’d be completely lost. She would drown in their deeply seductive depths.

“Truly? I find that extremely hard to believe. Very few people in this world can be completely honest. There are times when telling a little white lie can be the difference between life and death.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “I make a habit of always telling it how it is. Some do not like that practice, and it’s landed me in hot water on more than one occasion.”

*****

Lucan watched the beautiful woman in front of him as he intentionally riled her passions. She was like an ethereal creature. He’d seen lots of women, and none could compare to her beauty, none save for perhaps Ava.

This woman was not only enchanting, she was enchanted. She had an air of the Otherworld about her and though she looked like a wispy creature with her small stature, her large eyes and pixie ears, she had steel inside of her. He could see that just by the cautionary glint in her eyes.

She’d seen sorrow, and she’d suffered terrible hardships. Not only that but her heart had been broken, and he wanted to tear that devil of a man from limb to limb. He didn’t know why his heart reached out for her—perhaps this was the elusive love at first sight that many talked about.

He never quite believed those romantic tales and now, now, he wished he hadn’t been such a bitter cynic.

He wanted to see how she would react to him when she was fit to be tied, and right now, the way her cheeks were flushed and her hands trembled, told him that she possessed a conscience. She had a good heart.

He could tell that just by the way the Tavern had been lovingly cared for. His bedchamber was basically unchanged. She hadn’t altered it too much to fit her feminine needs.

Her bright sky blue eyes dazzled him right down to his core. He resisted the urge to close in on her and charm her right out of that fluffy towel she wore like a shield from his curious gaze. He wanted to take her to his bed, and enjoy the carnal delights that would await them in each other’s arms.

They hadn’t yet formally introduced themselves, but she knew who he was and he was fairly certain that she was the mysteriously enigmatic Changeling, Nerienda Kyneswyth.

“I take it you were the reason why my mother had such a respectable tombstone. I stopped there briefly just before I came here.”

“Aye,” she said looking away from him. He could sense that the very mention of his mother had brought her emotions to a rioting peak. The fact that Elaine Wylde had someone like her to take care of her in her twilight hours made his heart glad.

“I take it that Ava told you all about me,” he drawled, excited to watch her reaction.

Curtly, she nodded her head and moved to her large feynwood wardrobe. The same wardrobe that had held his clothing when he’d been a boy. She reached inside of it, and pulled out a sheer lacy contraption that looked like it was midnight black. He wanted to see more of it, even though it looked as if she was determined to keep it from his prying eyes.

She kept her back to him, and dropped her towel to the floor.

His eyes razed over her bare backside. Her ass was unlike any other woman’s butt that he’d ever seen. She slipped the shift over her head and he watched as it draped her curvaceous body, clinging to every beautiful inch of her.

He used every ounce of willpower he had to keep himself from crossing the short distance between them and taking her into his arms.

His libido had been unusually strong since he’d emerged from that bloody forest. He knew why, as he’d been starved of female companionship for one-hundred and fifty years. Before the dark enchantment, he’d been quite the randy bugger, and had been a libertine of the worst sort.

It was safe to assume that his sexual drive wasn’t going to cool down any time soon. Algernon had encouraged him to be a rake and told him to sow his wild oats while he was young and had the looks of a God.

“From the way that the Princess spoke I was led to believe that you were a decrepit old lady. I thought I was going to meet a hag, not a beautiful maiden.” He heaped on the charm, hoping to see some kind of a change in her unreadable visage.

She still looked as if she had a wall up, she would be hard to reach, and yet, he wanted to rise to the challenge. He knew exactly how it felt to have demons.

She snorted, and then turned back to look at him as she settled the red velvet frock she’d pulled out of the wardrobe around her hips. She pulled out a metal belt and wrapped it around her tiny waist. He noted that the belt was equipped with a small dagger—the same small dagger that his mother had carried.

“I’m no ingénue but I’m certainly not an old lady,” her tone was disapproving. He’d struck a nerve when he’d told her he’d expected to meet a hag.

“I can see that, now,” he whispered, causing her to flush when he perused her body intensely. “I actually preferred you in the towel—you looked so damn delicious with it wrapped tightly around your body.”

Her face went beet red at that last remark and she lunged herself at him, stopping just short of impacting with his body on the bed. She must have realized that if she did do that it would put her past the point of no return.

“How dare you speak so impudently to me,” she hissed, giving him a scathing glare. She spoke in a regal tone. One thing was for certain. Nerienda had not been born a common bastard like he.

He noted the way her eyes lingered as they sized him up. He was glad that she was just as pleased with his body as he was with hers.

He wished she’d give into her hot head and strike him so they could wrestle a bit and then have a good old-fashioned tumble on the bed. If she gave into temptation, their relationship would be complicated, and complications only opened her up for the sting of betrayal, and she could not deal with another man hurting her so vilely.

“Why are you here?” she asked coldly, leaching all emotion from her voice. “And pray, do me the courtesy of telling me how long you shall stay.”

“I’ve come home. I wanted to see my mother’s grave and I also wanted to help restore this village and surrounding area to the glory it once enjoyed. As for the length of my stay—I suppose I’m back for good. Unless of course I’m called to action by Grifon and Ava.”

“You misunderstand me. I want to know why you are here in this Tavern…surely, you have a Palace, Castle, or Manor House to build. You might have been born a Tavern wench’s son, but you’ve risen high through the ranks. I know that the king bestowed the lovely title of duke upon you.”

“I am in no rush to build any monuments showcasing my wealth and newfound station in life. Those worldly goods are not as important to me as reconnecting with my roots. I want to free my father’s holdings from Lord Ulwyn’s clutches. He doesn’t deserve them. He is not the Earl of Wythley, so therefore, he doesn’t deserve to sit on their ancestral seat of power within Wythley Castle.”

She gasped and moved even closer to him, suddenly seeing his keen resemblance to his father.

Leaning forward, she bent down and studied him closely, holding herself back from touching his face. He had the same eyes that all of the Earl of Wythley’s had. Same eyes, same forehead, same chin, oh, hell, he was Brandyn’s doppelganger. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

Elaine had told her who had sired Lucan and yet…she’d never seen the resemblance in any of his portraits. Maybe it was the hardened glint that Lucan had now in his eyes—the haunted look—the look of deep regret that made him look so much like his father. 

Pain radiated around her heart. She missed Elaine and Brandyn each and every single day. They had been true friends to her. To the end, she’d always been able to trust them—with her life. True friendship for her was such a rare thing that she had treasured it highly with Elaine and Brandyn.

“I should have seen it sooner. That’s who you remind me of. You look like your father and the old earl for that matter. He must have been your great-nephew, and if you’re father ever tried to deny you in his life, he wouldn’t have been able to had he ever seen you once you’d grown into a man. You are the spitting image of the Earls of Wythley. You seem to have more Whittier in you than Wylde. Once Lord Ulwyn lays eyes on you, he’ll see the resemblance as the portrait gallery in Wythley Castle remains untouched to this day.”

*****

Lucan’s dark brown eyes darkened to a dangerous degree.

“My dear father did see me as a grown man. He cared not for me until it looked as if I was going to amount to something. He always pinned all of his hopes and dreams on his legitimate line as his legitimate son had a mother who was a member of a most Noble House—it’s a little ironic that that line died out.

My mother was never good enough for the wretched bastard. As much as I hate the memory of my father, Lord Ulwyn makes him look like a saint. That infernal man shouldn’t be in control of Wythley Castle. Be that as it may, my relationship with my biological father was a complicated one. My grandfather was more like my father than he ever was. That’s probably why I called him papa.

I saw the earl on a few occasions when I was growing up, back before I knew he was my father, and all of those times he never engaged me individually. He did look at me as if he wanted to say something a few times but after he had his heir with his wife—he had his precious boy child, he never tried to get close to me again.

After my papa passed from this world to the next, my mentor Sir Algernon came into my life. I no longer needed the earl after that, nor did I want him in my life. We saw each other at Court a few times and when he tried to approach me, I brushed him off. I no longer wanted anything to do with the man who deemed my mother unworthy of him, even though he wanted to be associated with me to share in the glory and honour I had earned as Knight Mage of the Royal Order of Saint Alby. You see, I was suddenly a bastard to be proud of and acknowledge! I, a man born on the wrong side of the blanket, had the ear of the King, and I’m quite certain that’s the only reason he wanted to get to know me—or even admit to others that he knew me.”

The words spilled liberally out of his mouth. She had no idea why he confided so much so easily to her, but it was as if he was a book and she’d just opened him up.

Darkness permeated him, and yet somehow, he hadn’t been consumed by it. He was an instrument of light—that much she could feel. His magic was strong and had only been used for good.

“Many will ignore their kin until that kin does something that earns attention from a higher rank. Some people are all about money and how high up you sit on the pyramid of life. It is sad but it is true.”

Lucan’s eyes swirled with dark emotions.

“My father’s line died out. I guess he reaped what he sowed, in a way. He could never acknowledge me and now I’m his only hope—I’m his only heir—ah, the irony,” he chuckled bitterly. “Odds are, he never believed I would be the only one to carry on his line. I was the bastard born to a woman who was never good enough—even if he loved her. I believe he might have, he couldn’t swallow his own pride and marry her. He had to keep up appearances, that stupid son of a bitch.” Bitterness laced his voice like poison.

Her heart went out to him. He’d been wronged in many ways and she shared that in common with him. She had been treated most foul, some would say her tales of woe superseded his, despite that, she still had enough humanity inside of her to feel for the emotional baggage he carried.

Inhaling deeply, she prayed that when she spoke, her voice wouldn’t waver with emotion. “And do you want to be the Earl of Wythley along with being the Duke of Cambria? You’ll have a long list of titles to hand down to your heirs, should you have any.”

He gave her a scathing look. “I don’t care one flying fart about any of that—you seem to think a lot less of me than I probably think of you.” When he was riled, she noticed that his thick Cambrian accent crept forth, and she liked it. She liked the way it deepened his voice.

“I was born here, I grew up with dirt on my face, a twinkle in my eyes, and a smile touching my lips. I was happy until the day I found out who my father was. I had never felt such soul destroying rage as I did that day, and I warrant I never will again. I couldn’t understand why any man would forsake my mother—or me.” Gruffness entered his voice as a hitch of emotion touched it.

Her heart continued to reach out to him, he’d traveled his own rough path, just as she had traveled hers. The only difference between them was that her entire family had forsaken her, they’d forgotten her in as much time as it took to blink. When she needed help, they didn’t even try to assist her.