Patrick kissed her shoulder and took to stroking just her back for a short while. Once the tension in her body lessened, his hand travelled back down to her firm, round cheeks.
This time, though, he did not hesitate. Sliding his hand around the curve, with middle finger guiding, he travelled straight down to her pleasure node, applying soft pressure the moment he had found it.
“Ah.”
Angelica’s head briefly lifted off her hands at the unexpected touch, then her back arched, and her buttocks lifted to give him easier access.
“There you are, my love,” he breathed in her ear.
Inserting his thumb into her wet fold, he kept massaging her node with his finger. Angelica moaned into her hands, moving her hips to the rhythm of her pleasure.
Patrick watched her, leaning on his left arm and pleasuring her with his right. She was exquisite as she moved and moaned, wholly absorbed in the moment. Applying a little more pressure with his hand and growling softly into her ear, Patrick made Angelica pick up her pace. Her hips moved faster, and her moans became more urgent.
The scent of her arousal rose to a fever-pitch, driving him mad. Patrick ground his teeth as he fought for control, concentrating only on her as she bucked, riding his hand.
“Patrick, ah …”
The sound exploded out of Angelica, as did her hot juices that flowed over Patrick’s hand. Never had he experienced anything like it, and as he moved his hand in time to her final thrusts, he spilt his seed on the perfect curve of her buttocks.
“You have a selection, indeed,” Patrick said, browsing the books in Angelica’s private library.
“This used to be my playroom when I was small,” she said. “When I started home-schooling, it became my classroom. It was when my father had the shelves installed. I have been collecting books since then.”
“Surely not these kinds of books.”
Angelica laughed. “No, I gave my children’s books to an orphanage in London. What you see here is everything I have gathered over the past two and a half years.”
“Do you think we will find answers here?”
“I have always looked in the books because my dreams made me want to know the evils in this world. Maybe I have been looking at it wrong. Maybe there is another way.”
Patrick ran his finger along the spines of the books on the shelf. Most dealt with issues such as slavery, abuse, politics, neglect, murder, corruption, and other heinous acts. He could not see how reading through these works could help them in any way.
“What is this?” he asked, pulling a thick, leather-bound book off the shelf.
“It’s an interpretation of the Bible.”
“Interpretation?”
Angelica took the book from him, and set it down on the desk. “It contains the books of the Bible, but with explanations to their meaning. It does make for interesting reading.”
“I did not know such a thing exists.”
Angelica shrugged.
“Have you tried looking for answers in there?”
“In the Bible?”
Patrick could not read her expression, but she had delivered the question with such a flat voice, it made Patrick take note.
“Why not the Bible? It is often used to give people guidance.”
She stared at him; her eyes glazed over.
“Angelica.”
She blinked.
“Angelica,” he said again, touching her arm.
“Yes, what where you saying?”
“I think it is a good idea, my love. We can each take a pile of books and go through them. Maybe an hour or two each day?”
“Yes,” she smiled, “thank you, Patrick. Where do you want to start?”
Patrick looked over the shelves full of books once more. Angelica’s aversion to the Bible worried him, which gave him even more reason to read it.
“Why don’t you start on the left, and I will start from the right. That way, we’ll meet in the middle when we’re done.”
“Perfect,” she beamed at him.
Angelica selected several books from the left-hand side of the shelves and then settled down at the desk. Patrick went to the other end and looked over the selection at his end. To his surprise, he found some on witchcraft, along with demonic possessions. He took those and put them beside the Bible.
Patrick had no idea what he was looking for, but he would try anything for Angelica. It had been ten days since her father’s death, and there had been no incident. Mary Alaric was settling down, and Patrick’s mother hesitantly suggested that she should be able to move back to Ashford Manor before the month was out.
Secretly, he harboured the hope that with killing her father, the curse was broken. Keeping up pretences with the wolf council was no problem as long as Angelica remained dormant, but should anything happen …
Patrick shuddered at the thought. How many people in Ashford honestly had a clean history? The priest, probably. And the children. If killing the sinners was the agenda for the beast, then hardly anyone was safe.
Narrowing his eyes, he let that thought mature in his mind. If Patrick thought of the paranormal world, he could not say that he had ever heard of any beast that only attacked sinners.
Sliding the Bible across the desk towards himself, he started paging. What was a sin? God declared the seven deadly sins, and only God could judge those committing them.
Icy tendrils of dread found their way down Patrick’s back. He desperately wanted Angelica to be the girl she used to be, yet he could not help feeling drawn to the slumbering power within her. Whatever she was, it was wild and dangerous. If Patrick could understand it, maybe he could tame it. If it were to be part of her, he would need to know how to control it.
His hope began to fade as the hours ticked by.
The butler came to tell them the horses were ready, and they packed up their books.
“Do not fret, Patrick,” Angelica said when she saw his worried face, “we’ll come back tomorrow.”
Riding home, Patrick’s mood did not improve. He did not want to control Angelica, for she was her own person, but if she was the harbinger of death, then what else could he do? If he wasn’t so close to her, maybe he could see the danger she posed, but his love made him blind. He needed distance — time to think.
After supper, the ladies retreated to their rooms, and Patrick went to have his evening whiskey with his father.
“I am going for a run tonight,” Patrick told Edward.
“Stay away from the entire western forest,” his father replied. “That’s where Richard’s team is hunting tonight.”
Dorien had split the hunters into four teams, rotating daily. This suited Patrick well, for he got to spend three out of four nights at home.
Past midnight, Patrick left the manor and strode out across the fields towards the eastern forest. There was no moon tonight, and the stars sparkled brightly in the black sky.
Folding his clothes, Patrick packed them neatly into a crevice between two boulders by a river, then walked a hundred yards before initiating the change.
In the silence of the night, the breaking of bones sounded loud in his ears. His skin tore and mended. He grew as his appendages elongated. Growling with pain, the wolf took a step, and then he ran.
The wind woke him. Lifting his muzzle, Patrick tested the scent on the air. It possessed a metallic quality.
Unfurling himself from the hollow beneath a fallen log, the wolf rose to his full height and stared into the darkness. The wind around him howled through the trees, swirling leaves across the forest floor.
Patrick’s fur bristled - the tension a tangible thing on the air. Growling, he searched the trees for the eyes he knew were watching him. He shook with frustration, and his heart hammered wildly in his chest. How could he have been so careless? He should not have left her alone.
He howled, the sound carried away on the erratic wind, and then he loped, following where the metallic scent was most potent. The urge to run from
the phenomenon was strong - any sane person would have done so - but he needed to find out if this was truly his love, or if it was, indeed, a beast she had under her control.
The trees around him bent violently under the onslaught of the storm created by the being. Patrick battled to keep his footing, but he pushed on. It was as if the beast did not want him to come any closer. Stones and branches smacked into him, making him yelp. Dirt blew up into his eyes, blinding him. Flashes of localised lightning singed his fur. Still, he pushed on.
The closer Patrick came to the centre of the tempest, the more violent the punishment unleashed on him. No human could have withstood such an ordeal, and it took all his willpower to carry on.
The wind stopped with a suddenness that had him toppling to the leafy earth. Utter silence enveloped him, and he remained unmoving for a heartbeat, or two, listening.
In the silence, he heard the faintest of sighs. Daring to move, he lifted his head. In a clearing ahead sat Angelica, clad in a tattered black nightdress, with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
Patrick hesitated no longer. With three long bounds, he was by her side, nudging her with his nose. She had dirt on her face, and he could see where her tears had run rivulets down her cheeks.
“I never meant for you to see me like this,” she whispered, “but you are a stubborn wolf.”
Angelica wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his fur, her tears flowing freely again.
Patrick was by no means closer to an answer, for Angelica was no beast that he could see. Here she sat, petite and vulnerable, yet more powerful than any other being he had ever met. It made no sense to him, for she felt remorse. The deep sobs coming from her chest were genuine, and the comfort she needed was real. Right now, all he could do was be there for her.
While she cried her tears into his fur, his thoughts turned to how she came to be in the forest. Did she have another dream? Did she kill again?
His most pressing question, however, was as to how she managed to get out of the house without his parents noticing. A cinch of worry tightened around his heart.
Chapter 16
“We were fools to hope it could have ended with Alaric,” Dorien sighed.
“Any word yet on why he was killed?” Edward asked.
“We are still investigating,” Richard replied. “The family is too shook up to answer any questions at this time. Lawson has started his investigation with the neighbours.”
“It’s as if the beast knew we were patrolling the western parts of Ashford last night. The Douws live on the most eastern farm of our county,” Dorien contemplated.
“We should have two patrols riding every night,” Richard said. “This cannot be allowed to happen again.”
The wolf council argued back and forth for another hour before they left to meet again tomorrow.
Patrick and Edward rode home side by side, an awkward silence between them.
“I did not hear you come home last night,” Edward eventually said.
“I curled up under a log to sleep, and only came home during the early hours of this morning, Father.”
“Where did you run?”
“If there is something you want to ask me, Father, ask it straight. Yes, I ran in the eastern forest last night. No, I did not kill Hanno Douw. Frankly, I am offended you would even think this of me.”
Edward took his measure of Patrick before answering him. “Very well, son. Please understand that I had to find out.”
Patrick nodded curtly, and they carried on riding in silence. He could not blame his father for his suspicions and was glad he had voiced them in private, and not in front of the wolf council.
Edward and Patrick had ridden out early this morning after receiving word of the killing. Thus they now sat down for breakfast upon their return.
The kitchen-maid served them their food and then packed a tray with another meal.
“Is Lady Mary not feeling well enough to come down for breakfast again?” Edward asked.
“Pardon me, My Lord, but it’s Miss Angelica’s not feelin’ well. Lady Mary and Lady Lillian be in the parlour.”
Patrick’s blood rushed through his veins in icy-hot shivers. Clenching his jaw, he kept his composure, not letting his father see any reaction to the maid’s comment. On the inside, though, the relief Patrick felt at the knowledge that Angelica made it home, and to her bed, was immense. His heart thudded wildly, and he wanted to rush to her side.
“Please let her know we wish her to get well soon,” Patrick told the maid.
“Yes, Master Patrick,” the maid replied and curtsied.
Patrick carried on eating his breakfast as if nothing untoward had happened. Even in this house, Patrick was not allowed in Angelica’s bedchamber, so he would have to wait for her to feel well enough to come down.
After breakfast, Patrick rode alone to Ashford Manor to oversee the work for the day. The staff at the grounds were capable enough, but they had come to expect his visits.
Once he had spoken to the groundskeeper, the stable master, and some others, Patrick ensconced himself in the library and continued his reading.
He tried to recall the events from last night, and tie them in with writings in front of him, but none of the stories told of such a thing.
Angelica had sent him home after she had cried herself out. She had ordered him. With his tail between his legs, he had slunk off into the forest, growling all the while. He had not wanted to leave and had fought the command with every step he took. How would she get home without him? He could not simply leave her in the forest in her vulnerable state.
Once, he managed to turn his head, only to find she was no longer in the clearing. Still, the command propelled him onwards, and he had no choice but to return home without her.
Patrick made notes and stuck them in three books he had selected. The one spoke of possession by a ghost searching for revenge; the other spoke of dark magic, and the last was the book of Revelations in the Bible.
Neither of these choices left Patrick feeling any more hopeful than he was before. He still did not know if Angelica killed with only the power of her mind, whether she killed the men herself or controlled something else.
One factor was for certain - he could not leave her side again. Whatever happened, he needed to be there for her. While the Alarics stayed at Blakesley Manor, this would pose no problem. Soon, however, the ladies would move back into their own home, and Patrick would not be allowed to follow.
He needed to find a solution fast.
“Yes, Father, I know it is sudden, but you cannot deny the reasoning.”
Edward regarded him earnestly. “She has agreed?”
“She has, Father.”
“You have my blessing, then. This town could do with some cheerful news. Make your arrangements with the priest, and I shall speak to your mother about the rest.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Edward patted Patrick on his back, a proud look on his face. “Guess I have a new employer soon,” he joked.
Feeling elated, Patrick walked along the edge of the veranda to where Angelica sat on the swing, looking out over the garden.
“It is agreed,” he told her, sitting down beside her. “Both our parents are agreeable with the arrangement.”
Angelica’s face beamed. “Angelica Blakesley,” she whispered. “It sounds magical.”
“It will be,” he said and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I will be beside you always from now on.”
“Is this really what you want, Patrick?” she asked, a worried frown marring her pretty face.
“I love you, Angelica, and we will face whatever comes together. I will not abandon you because of this.”
She rested her dark head on his shoulder, and she could not have looked more vulnerable and innocent had she tried. It was hard to see the monster that slumbered within her.
“Angelica, tomorrow, the heads of the wolf council will come to see us. They will want to speak
to you about your responsibilities. Are you prepared for this?”
“Aye,” she nodded, “I will not fail you.”
Taking a deep breath, Patrick forged on, “Tonight, I am part of the team patrolling the southern side around Ashford. That means I will not be here to keep you safe.”
Angelica took his hand. “I cannot tell you how I know, but I will sleep tonight. There will be no attack. My body still aches, and it is rest I long for. Tonight, tomorrow, and at least the night after.”
Patrick made a mental note - even Angelica’s paranormal self needed to regenerate after an attack. It had limits to its power. Now if they could only find its weakness.
The wolf council found no reason why Patrick should not wed Angelica. Ashford Manor had been left without a lord, and Patrick and Angelica had been courting long enough for it to be legitimate.
The priest married them before God and the people, and then all the guests rode out to Ashford Manor, where the servants had prepared the wedding feast.
New leaves and tiny flowers now graced the black stumps of the cherry trees in the orchard, and all the flowers of summer were abloom in the gardens.
Angelica radiated happiness in an elegant white dress; one of the pieces she had once bought in London but never worn. The time had been too short to have a proper wedding dress made. Patrick discarded his top hat the moment he could and spent most of the day dancing with his new bride. He could not remember a time he had been happier.
It was late by the time the last guests left, and the new couple retreated to Angelica’s room. The construction of the proposed master suite would only begin the following week.
Drawing the curtains, and lighting candles, Patrick set the mood for their wedding night. The servants had sprinkled rose petals over the bed and vases of lavender-scented the air.
Playing With Fire Page 62
