Wolf of Arundale Hall (21 page)

She blinked and turned to respond, only to find his mouth waiting for her. He kissed her gently, then put his finger over her mouth. “Don’t say anything, little flower,” he said in a soft tone. “I do know how fortunate I am.”

Why fight it? She wanted him, wanted to be his wife. Nothing had really changed in ten years. She was older and, perhaps, wiser. But the love that had sprouted when she was twelve, barely into womanhood, still grew strong, with deep roots. No amount of lies, betrayal or hurt would kill it, apparently.

His fingers stroked the nape of her neck and she relaxed into his touch. They were together and that was all that mattered.

A late arrival paid his respects. “Lord Applegate,” Joshua said, his expression bland.

Elizabeth studied the man in the bright light of the salon. Lord Applegate was of average height, in his late thirties, with the beginning of a paunch that Elizabeth thought aged him. His eyes were an onyx color that matched his hair. He was an excellent example of the ton’s eligible bachelors, escorting a woman who had been widowed two seasons earlier. His clothing and demeanor were eminently correct.

And he made Elizabeth nervous.

“Lord Arundale.” Applegate bowed. “And Lady Arundale, how nice to see you again.”

His reference to their meeting at Lord Everret’s made Elizabeth’s jaw ache, but she managed a smile and offered her hand, though she’d rather have been kissed by a fish. “How good of you to come. And Lady Ridley, how are you enjoying the country?”

Lady Ridley gazed at Elizabeth with her flat, dark eyes and didn’t smile. The woman was beautiful but somber. “It’s very quiet. London was noisier and the pace too quick for me after Walter’s death.” Her voice cracked on her dead husband’s name and Elizabeth was filled with compassion.

“Yes, yes, we all know Walter was the life of the party, my dear,” Lord Applegate said in a rush. “But society has missed you.” He winked at Elizabeth. “I hope to start her back slowly with rustic parties such as this.”

Elizabeth remained serene. “By all means. I do hope you enjoy yourself.”

Applegate bowed at the waist and steered Lady Ridley into the crowd of people.

Joshua had said very little during the exchange and his expression was thoughtful. Elizabeth touched his hand. “What is it, Joshua?”

Her husband rolled his shoulders and his brow cleared. “Nothing at all. Shall we stroll around the room and talk to our guests?”

Everything seemed peaceful and jovial. Joshua was, surprisingly, the perfect host, giving special attention to each person there. Elizabeth began to enjoy herself, connecting with several old friends she hadn’t seen in a long time, catching up on the latest news.

Then Melinda appeared in the center of the salon, clearly intoxicated. “Where is he? Where is the great Lord of Arundale?”

People shot nervous glances at Melinda and looked away. Finally, Melinda stumbled toward Joshua, who now sat perched on Elizabeth’s armrest.

The woman’s lip curled. “Isn’t this a pretty scene? All sunshine and flowers.” Melinda stumbled closer. “Shall I tell all these people of the promise to me that you’ve broken?”

Joshua remained cool and raised one eyebrow. “Oh? I remember only one promise. I promised to take care of your son. That vow has not been broken.”

Melinda glared at him. “What of me? You will cast me into the streets?”

“Of course not. You will go to your grandmother’s house. Lady North has a knack for handling young ladies.”

Elizabeth almost laughed. That was a double-edged insult, but this was no laughing matter.

Melinda was drunk and causing a scene. There would be talk.

Joshua snapped his fingers and a footman appeared. “Escort Mrs. Latimer upstairs to…freshen up.”

Melinda jerked her arm away from the footman. “Don’t touch me.” Her face contorted into a mask of fury. “I will see that bitch dead before she breeds.”

The way Joshua’s gray eyes changed to blue made Elizabeth shudder. When her husband rose to his feet, Melinda took an unsteady step back and almost fell. “Go with the footman, Melinda. Pack your things and leave this house. You will not speak of my wife in that way and remain under my roof.”

Melinda’s face lost its color. “What of Gerry?”

“You may write to him. Frankly, I can’t see that he will miss you.”

“Curse you, Joshua Arundale,” Melinda spat.

Joshua bowed. “Good night, madam.”

The footman gripped Melinda’s arm and she left the room with her chin held high. Elizabeth sighed, then smiled at one of the young ladies from a nearby house. What was her name? Oh yes, Anne Cory. “Anne, would you mind playing? I think we need some music.”

The girl’s face lit up and she sat at the large piano, a gift from Elizabeth’s mother when she and Joshua were married. Soon the sweet sound of Bach filled the room and the loud voices of gossip were muted for the moment.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Joshua said quietly.

She gazed up at her husband, her heart pounding. “You did nothing wrong, my lord.”

Once again he sat on the armrest of her chair and leaned closer. “Still, I wanted your party to be unmarred.”

She reached up and touched his cheek. “Melinda was not in your control.” One side of her mouth rose and she teased, “Not like the rest of us.”

He groaned. “Don’t say things like that. I’ve been trying to—” He stopped and glanced around the room.

“Trying to what, my lord?”

“To court you. To make amends.” He held her gaze, his gray eyes stormy.

“I’m not some clucking female who needs flattery. I’m your wife.”

They stared at each other for a full minute before he broke the silence. “When will all these people leave?”

She laughed and many people turned disapproving glances her way, but she didn’t care. Joshua kissed the palm of her hand and she sighed happily. All would be well.

Finally the guests took their leave, disappearing in carriages through the thick fog that blanketed the moor. There was still talk about Arundale Hall, but now it was about Melinda’s appalling behavior, not Joshua’s absence or his marriage to Elizabeth. Even the murders seemed to have faded into memory, though Donaldson’s solid presence had been felt.

When she closed the front door, finally free, Joshua pounced, lifting her into his arms. She squeaked her surprise and tried to calm her erratic heartbeat.

He tossed her over his shoulder and carried her upstairs. When they reached his chambers, he dropped her on the bed and lay on top of her. “That seems a lot easier in theory than in fact,” he said, out of breath.

She giggled and squirmed beneath him, her corset digging into her flesh. “What now, my lord?” she asked.

“One moment, wife. I need to regain my strength. By faith, you’ve put on weight since I’ve been home.”

She chuckled. “Maybe I’ve weakened you with my sexual demands.”

His head rose and he glared at her. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we? Four days I’ve had to control my urges, waiting for you to feel safe with me again.” His fingers sought the complicated ties of her corset. “But you said you are my wife. So, wife, I want you. And I will have you.”

She trembled, knowing she could deny him nothing. His eyes changed to the familiar blue glow of the Beast. His claws extended, ripping through the hard material of the corset, freeing her breasts to his hungry gaze.

As natural as spring, her hands reached up to grasp the iron bars of his headboard. He growled, a low, beautiful sound that thrilled her.

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door. “Lord Arundale,” the footman shouted. “Mrs. Latimer has run out onto the moor.”

A muted rumbling sound from Joshua’s throat made Elizabeth both terrified and aroused. He levered himself off the bed and covered her almost naked body with a quilt. Then he opened the door. “What is the meaning of this?”

The footman’s hair was plastered to his face. “She said she’ll commit suicide if she has to leave her child.”

Joshua pulled on his coat. “I’ll handle this.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ll be back, wife.”

She held his gaze. “I’ll be waiting.”

*

The night waned and Elizabeth began to worry. When Joshua wasn’t back within the hour, she dressed and paced the room. Another half an hour passed and she put on her sturdy boots, determined to follow him.

Her shawl was little protection against the cold night fog, but she pressed on. All the servants were gone to bed except for her manservant. He was asleep, propped up in a chair in the front hall. The house was quiet and deserted when she stepped out onto the front porch and into the darkness.

The lantern she carried illuminated very little, so she walked carefully onto the moor, following a familiar path. “Joshua!” she called.

Then she heard it. A mournful howl. Without thinking twice, she ran toward the sound. It echoed on the moor and she had to stop to try to locate the source. It came again, a heart-wrenching sound that spurred her on in the dark.

Finally she reached a clearing and the sight almost made her vomit.

Melinda lay on the ground, bloody and dismembered, her arms missing and her legs tossed to the side. Her neck was ripped open, with fresh blood spilling out all over the brush. A large, cavernous hole yawned over her breast where the emptiness revealed the horrible truth. Her blue eyes were sightless and staring at Elizabeth.

Across the clearing, unconscious, blood on his mouth, lay her Beast.

Fear was a coppery taste in her mouth as Elizabeth approached the animal. Larger than a normal wolf, it was wounded, its shoulder ripped like ground-up meat. She’d only seen Joshua’s wolf form once, but it had been memorable. As the lantern light illuminated the prone form, she recognized the thick, dark hair and the familiar white patches. His eyes were the luminous blue she knew, but it was the expression in them that convinced her that this was her husband.

She ripped her petticoat into strips and staunched his wound. But there was no way she would be able to carry him, wolf or man, back to the house. She stroked his dear face, now a snout with a black, wet nose. “I have to get help, Joshua. I will return. I promise.”

Weakly, the animal’s tongue licked her hand to show that he understood.

She rose to her feet and sped back down the path. Who could she get to help her? When she reached the house, she dragged her manservant out of the chair he slept in. “Go to Jaimison’s house and see if he’s back from London. I need him.”

Luckily, Perry’s escapades had trained her household to accept these late-night demands and the servant didn’t ask questions. She hated the wait. Would Jaimison be home? What if he wasn’t? She prayed.

When Jaimison appeared on horseback half an hour later, she thought she’d collapse from relief. Instead she held out her hand and let him swing her into the saddle. “On the moor. He’s wounded.”

Though she’d been less than coherent, Jaimison spurred the horse and followed her directions to Joshua. The animal was barely breathing, but alive. Jaimison cursed when he saw the scene, but he lifted the wolf and carried it while Elizabeth held the reigns of the horse.

It seemed like an eternity but they reached the house and Jaimison laid Joshua on the bed in her chambers. She stroked the wolf’s fur and glanced at Jaimison. “What do I do?”

“I know what to do, my lady.” His face was set in stone.

The wolf stirred and she petted his fur to calm him. He whimpered, a frightening sound to Elizabeth.

Jaimison left the room and galloped away from Arundale Hall. Elizabeth stared at the wolf form of her husband and wondered if he’d die in this shape.

When Jaimison returned, he had Dr. Angus MacDonald with him. Elizabeth gasped and stared at Jaimison. “How could you? The secret!”

“Keeping it will kill him. Do you want him to die?”

“You know I don’t,” she said passionately.

Jaimison’s jaw clenched. “Then let Dr. MacDonald help him.”

Reluctantly, Elizabeth backed away and allowed the little man closer. He clucked and studied the wound. “Another wolf did this,” he said, his green eyes pinning Elizabeth. “Did you see another wolf?”

She shook her head. What did it mean? Another wolf? There’d been no wolves on the moors for centuries. No wolves except the Arundale men. She bit her lip. Perry? Lord Everret? They were also men who changed into the Beast of Arundale.

While MacDonald cleaned the wound and began to stitch it closed, he talked. “My father was doctor here, as was his father before him,” he said. “And we know much about the families here. My father told me about the Arundale curse.” He finished and straightened. “Now, Jaimison said there was also a dead body. I need to see it.”

“If word got out—” Her voice froze in her throat. Memories of the swarms of men searching the moor to kill the Beast of Arundale flooded her mind.

The doctor sighed. “Lassie, let me see what I find. I know you’re worried I’ll think Joshua Arundale did it, or perhaps Perry, but if one of them did, we should know.”

She buried her face in her hands, shaking uncontrollably.

“Shock,” she heard the doctor say, far away. Hands helped her to a chair. “Sit down, Lady Arundale. You’ve had a bit of a turn.”

Someone pressed a cloth to her forehead and she leaned back. Jaimison was talking and Elizabeth focused on his voice.

“There was a fight. I’ll wager my last penny that Lord Arundale fought with Mrs. Latimer’s killer.”

“Mebbe so, laddie, but we’ll have to see what’s there.”

“The sun is coming up.” Jaimison’s tone was flat.

“Then we’ll have to hurry,” the doctor said. “Lady Arundale?”

She blinked her eyes open. The man was bent over her, peering into her face. “I dinnae want you to move.”

Slowly, she nodded and gripped the man’s arm. “He didn’t kill anyone. He couldn’t.”

“Lassie, he’s been gone for ten years. How do you know that?”

“I know,” she said strongly. “I know my husband.”

“I hope you’re right.” The doctor straightened and checked the wolf again. “Don’t let him move, either. We’ll be back straight away.”

He and Jaimison left the room and Elizabeth stared at the wolf on her bed. She rose unsteadily and stumbled to her husband’s side. She laid her head down beside his and placed her hand on his face.