Love At First Bite

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Anne supposed most people should expect trouble of some sort or another in their future. She merely smiled at the woman.

  “There is a man,” the woman said, looking up at Anne from beneath her lashes. The woman glanced down again, then suddenly released her hand. Her eyes widened. Her dark complexion paled. “Beware of the wolf in your stable,” she whispered. “Stay away from him or bring his curse down upon you both.”

  Anne blinked down at the woman. “Beg your pardon?”

  “Go now,” the woman commanded. “I can do no more than warn you.”

  Anne felt cheated, to put it mildly. There was no wolf in her stable and she’d expected to be told she would meet a special man and have a bright future. It was the sort of thing a woman wanted to hear. Suddenly Anne wondered if the wolf the woman referred to might in fact be a man whom she should avoid.

  “Is this wolf in my stable a man or a beast?” she asked the woman.

  The fortune-teller shuddered. “He is both,” she answered, then rose and disappeared into the crowd.

  Gooseflesh rose on Anne’s arms. She pulled her shawl closer around her.

  “There you are, Lady Anne,” Bertha huffed beside her.

  “I had lost you in the crowd for a moment and was sorely worried.”

  Still unnerved, Anne reached out and squeezed her maid’s arm. “I’m fine. I stopped to have my fortune told.”

  Bertha snorted. “That was a waste of coin. Suppose she told you you’ll soon meet a nice young man and have a happy future together. Those types always tell a body what they want to hear.”

  Bertha’s words only further unsettled Anne. So she had thought, as well. A disturbance farther down the stretch of vendors and performers drew her attention. Horses churned up dirt in the air. The horse races were about to begin.

  “Come, Lady Anne,” Bertha instructed. “Your aunt and uncle will wonder what’s become of us. We’re to join them to watch the races and have a nice lunch.”

  Anne’s maid never missed a meal, which was obvious by her rounded frame. Bertha hurried Anne down the lane toward the meadow where the horse racing would take place. Anne couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder toward where she’d last seen the fortune-teller. The woman stood staring after her. Quickly Anne turned away.

  She spied her aunt and uncle resting on a blanket spread on the ground. Millicent, her aunt’s personal maid, had come along, hefting things from the buggy for her mistress’s comfort. The woman knelt upon the blanket unpacking lunch.

  “There you are,” Aunt Claire called upon seeing Anne. “Come and sit, Anne. We are famished.”

  Dutiful as always, Anne hurried toward the blanket and seated herself. “I can’t thank you enough again for bringing me today, Uncle Theodore and Aunt Claire. I know you both find these fairs boring, but I am having a wonderful time.”

  Absently her aunt reached forward and patted Anne’s hand. “Wish a social engagement would put the sparkle in your eyes and the blush in your cheeks nice this crude affair. Perhaps you were never meant to live the life of a social wife. ‘Tis no wonder a suitable gentleman has not offered for you, Anne. You have odd likes for a well-bred girl. You must have gotten that from your mother’s side.”

  Anne stared down at her clasped hands. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment to you, dear aunt,” she said. “I will try harder to gain the attention of a suitable bachelor when next we visit London.”

  “Leave the girl alone,” her uncle fussed. “We want her to be happy in her match, don’t we, lady wife?”

  Her aunt patted Anne again. “Of course we do. Take your time, Anne. There is no hurry.”

  Aunt Claire’s attitude was strange indeed. Most mothers were so desperate to find suitable matches for their daughters that nothing else was thought of or discussed from the time the girl became old enough to marry. Since her aunt and uncle displayed little actual affection for her, Anne suspected they’d be all too happy to rid themselves of her. Perhaps it was because she’d been so obedient trying to win their love she was not considered much of a burden.

  “I should try harder,” she admitted. “I’ll be twenty-one soon, practically considered on the shelf.”

  “We thought we would stay in the country until after your birthday,” her uncle piped up. “We thought you would enjoy it more if you could ride your horse and wander about outside like you love doing.”

  Anne was surprised. Her birthday was a good three months off. She couldn’t see her aunt spending that length of time away from her London parties and social friends. Anne had in fact thought her guardians might throw her a birthday ball. It would be an opportunity to attract male suitors for her.

  “How kind of you,” she said in earnest. “I do prefer the country over the bustle of London, but I know that both of you prefer our time in the city.”

  “It is your birthday,” her aunt said, forgoing the hand patting this time. “We want you to spend it as enjoyably as possible.”

  A bout of tenderness for her aunt and uncle overcame Anne. She supposed she sometimes judged them unfairly. Simply because they were not free with their affections didn’t mean they didn’t care about her.

  “It would make me very happy to spend my birthday in the country.”

  “Then it is settled,” her aunt said, eyeing the food her maid had set out for them. “Let’s dine before the horses stir up even more dust and ruin our meal.”

  They set about having lunch. Anne found her appetite lacking. She was nervous. Maybe for Merrick and the black. Maybe because of her encounter with the fortune-teller. No one seemed to notice how sparsely Anne ate. Her aunt and uncle were too busy talking about the latest London gossip.

  “Two of them married now,” Aunt Claire said. “Some say they are being allowed into society because of their affiliation with the dowager. I say it’s shameful. I’m happy Anne didn’t go all soft in the head over Jackson Wulf like every other woman he flashes those dimples at.”

  Anne’s attention snapped toward her aunt. She spoke of the Wulf brothers. The wild Wulfs of London, as some called them. Suddenly a realization struck Anne as forcefully as a blow. “Wulf,” she whispered.

  “What, dear?” her aunt questioned.

  Grappling with the sudden dawning of who Merrick reminded her of, Anne merely shook her head and didn’t answer. Merrick was the spitting image of Jackson Wulf, only he had dark hair instead of light and light eyes instead of dark. No wonder she felt as if she’d seen him before the first morning she met him in the dining room.

  How uncanny that they should resemble each other so much, at least in facial features and stature. Her gaze automatically strayed toward the meadow where the horses were being lined up. She couldn’t see over the crowd and rose, shading her eyes against the sun.

  A few tall men blocked Anne’s view. “I can’t see,” she said to her aunt and uncle. “I’m just going a bit toward the front.”

  “Bertha, go with her,” her aunt instructed. “She’ll be gawking and unaware if someone is picking her pocket.”

  The maid, still involved with her lunch, grumbled, placed her plate aside, and lumbered to her feet. “Getting too old to chase after her,” she complained.

  Anne didn’t wait for Bertha. She hurried into the crowd, now driven to see Merrick. She paid no mind to the people she shoved her way through. Standing now at the front of the crowd, she searched the riders preparing their horses for the race. Merrick was already seated upon his great black stallion. The two of them made a formidable sight. Both dark. Both magnificent.

  Her breath caught in her throat as Merrick pranced the stallion around the other riders, obviously with the intention of intimidating them. Merrick’s hair was tied back, calling attention to his striking good looks. He wore a white shirt, open at the neck, ruffled and seemingly out of place among the country’s simpler folk. He wore tight black breeches and his boots were now polished to a high shine. She’d never seen a more handsome man. Besides the rest of the Wulf b
rothers.

  All were handsome indeed. Jackson was a close friend of hers. They had met abroad just last year. He had since married. A woman some claimed was a witch, but Anne had liked Lady Lucinda the moment she had met her. By God, Merrick did look like Jackson. He looked like him enough to be his brother.

  She must tell Merrick about his uncanny resemblance to Jackson Wulf. It might answer some of the questions Merrick had concerning his parentage. But then again, it might simply make trouble for the Wulf brothers, and Lord knew, they had enough of that dogging their heels as it was.

  Anne was at an impasse over her sudden suspicions. She valued her friendships with Jackson, had found him funny and charming and none of the things that were often rumored about him. But Merrick might find comfort in at least knowing where he came from, if in fact her suspicions were correct. And how could they not be? Merrick had to be a Wulf; that was all there was to it.

  “Beware of the wolf in your stable.” The fortune-teller’s warning suddenly came back to Anne. Not the wolf but the Wulf. Merrick was admittedly illegitimate, but he was a Wulf nonetheless. She was fairly bursting to tell him she had solved the mystery of who his father had been.

  The riders lined up before her. Their horses stomped and pranced in readiness for the race. Behind her, she heard men making wagers. Merrick was a favorite, most betting on the Earl’s new man.

  She also heard murmurs among the women present. Hushed whispers regarding the stable master’s handsome looks and fine form—talk that made her back stiffen.

  “I imagine Lady Baldwin spends more time than usual around her husband’s horses these days,” one woman joked. “Hear she likes her lovers young and virile.”

  “She’ll not be disappointed with that one, then.” Another woman laughed. “Suppose the man is used to servicing his employer’s women, like any good stud.”

  The women tittered and Anne moved away from the talk and the ill feeling it brought to her stomach. She’d noticed the way her aunt eyed Merrick that first morning in the dining room. Saw the way her gaze swept over him in an assessing manner. Anne hadn’t thought much of it, other than that he was the type of man who drew a woman’s notice, young or otherwise. Surely her aunt had not approached him in the stable and dangled herself before him, suggesting she was ripe for adventure herself.

  Sudden jealousy ripped through Anne. She had no right to feel the emotion. She had no right to suspect her aunt was anything but taken with his looks, without acting upon her interest. Then Anne recalled her uncle’s warning to them about the hens behaving themselves. Had his statement been aimed at his wife, rather than Anne?

  “Nonsense,” she scolded herself. She had never felt jealousy over a man and didn’t like the emotion. It made one think irrationally. Wanting to soothe her sudden worries, she glanced around in search of her aunt and uncle. They had joined the crowd of onlookers for the race. They stood a few feet away, her aunt staring at Merrick as he took the stallion through his paces, while her uncle clearly made wagers on the outcome of the race.

  Merrick, as if feeling Aunt Claire’s regard, glanced toward the woman, held her brave stare for a moment, then looked away, she supposed in search of younger, prettier sport. His eyes landed upon Anne. She tried to look away, but she couldn’t. Funny, she had never felt the flutter in her stomach and the leap of her pulses when Jackson Wulf looked at her. So much alike and yet so different.

  A trumpet sounded and Merrick glanced away, his interest now trained upon the race. Anne flushed that he’d managed to hold her gaze and glanced around uneasily. She saw her aunt staring at her, her disapproval obvious by the scowl on her face. Anne refused to feel ashamed, having heard what she just had about her aunt and her taste for younger men. It was obviously all right for her to behave badly but not for Anne. She lifted her chin in a show of defiance, rewarded by her aunt’s sudden look of surprise.

  A shot was fired and Anne returned her attention to the race. The horses and riders bounded forward and cheers went up from the crowd. How she longed to be part of the race. To be riding at breakneck speed across the meadow, her hair flying behind her, astride and in control of the horse. She became caught up in the activity and shouted along with the crowd when Merrick pulled ahead of the other riders.

  It was over almost before it began. Merrick was easily the winner, and most of the crowd pushed forward to offer congratulations. Anne could do no such thing. It wouldn’t be proper, but for a moment she longed to be among those gathered around Merrick. She longed to throw herself in his arms and kiss him.

  Guilt over her brave thoughts made an appearance. She glanced back at her aunt and uncle, hoping they had not witnessed her enthusiasm for the race. They weren’t paying any attention to her but seemed to be involved in a heated argument. She’d wager it had something to do with Merrick. Glancing back at the stable master, she noted that he also seemed focused on her aunt and uncle.

  It was absurd, but if Anne didn’t know better, Merrick appeared to be listening to their conversation. He couldn’t possibly hear whatever they discussed at the distance between them, not to mention the shouts and claps on the back from those gathered around him, but when he glanced at Anne, she read a certain amount of alarm in his usually cocky expression.

  A moment later he was distracted by the presenting of the purse for winning the race. Her aunt and uncle were suddenly beside Anne.

  “Let’s go home now, Anne,” her aunt instructed. “I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  The disapproving scowl still shaped her aunt’s thin lips. Usually, Anne would have been devastated to bring either her aunt or her uncle the slightest reason to be disappointed with her. Today, it seemed less important. Nevertheless, she fell dutifully in step with them and returned to their carriage.

  Merrick would come home, too, although she doubted he’d ride along with them. He seemed to like being on his own. A lone wolf. A Wulf in truth, she remembered. Would she tell him of her suspicions? Would it solve anything or just create more trouble?

  Chapter Seven

  It was none of his business, Merrick tried to assure himself for the hundredth time since he’d returned to the manor house. He was a servant, nothing more. It wasn’t his place to interfere in Anne’s life. Still, the conversation he’d overheard between Lord and Lady Baldwin bothered him. Should he tell Anne what he’d overheard, and would she believe him if he did?

  Merrick paced the dark confines of the stable, plagued by indecision. He’d never gotten involved in such matters before. But then, he already was involved, whether he wanted to be or not. Damn his abnormal hearing and everything odd about him. It was a curse at times.

  But Anne needed to be warned. He cared about her too much to see her cuckolded. She’d stayed away from the stable now for a week. It was just as well, since he’d been breeding the gray filly and knew Anne’s uncle would not have wished her to be a witness to the breeding. Still, it had eaten at Merrick not to see her. It had also made him realize just how enamored of her he was. Which did him little good.

  Even though it was late in the evening, Merrick thought it best to speak to Anne immediately. He knew which room upstairs belonged to her. He’d seen her standing at the window gazing out a time or two during the past week. Merrick would throw a rock to get her attention. He nearly ran into her on his way out of the stable.

  “Good Lord,” she gasped. “You scared me half to death. What are you doing slinking around this time of night?”

  She’d given him a start, as well. “What are you doing slinking around this time of night?” he shot back.

  “I need to talk to you,” she answered. “Privately, so I thought it best to wait until everyone had gone to bed.”

  Although he was curious as to why Anne had sought him out, his concerns over what he’d heard earlier were uppermost on Merrick’s mind. “I need to talk to you, too. I heard something today I thought you should know about.”

  “Heard something?” Her brow
furrowed. “That concerns me?”

  They stood at the entrance to the stable, in plain sight if anyone cared to look or was up at this late hour. Merrick took her arm and pulled her inside.

  “I overheard your aunt and uncle arguing at the fair.”

  Anne eyed him oddly. “How could you have heard them? From what I saw, you were never within speaking or hearing distance of my aunt and uncle this afternoon.”

  He wouldn’t go into detail about his abnormal hearing abilities. He’d already told her too much about his strange gifts. “I heard them,” he insisted. “And they were arguing about you.”

  Although she was clearly confused as to how he could have heard a conversation take place between her aunt and uncle, a light of interest flickered within her lovely eyes. “Arguing about me?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “Your aunt was worried about the two of us. About the way we looked at one another. She said they’d done their best to make certain you didn’t find a man to marry who was acceptable and she wouldn’t let you make a mistake with one who wasn’t.”

  “What?” Anne shook her head. “That makes no sense. It isn’t as if they don’t want me to marry, simply that no one suitable has offered for me.”

  “Anne.” Merrick took her shoulders between his hands. “I imagine more have asked than you are aware of. You’re lovely. And sweet. They don’t want you to marry because if you aren’t by the time you turn twenty-one, your inheritance is to fall under their control. They want your fortune, Anne.”

  She took a step back from him as if he’d delivered a blow. “That is not true. I am to gain my inheritance when I turn twenty-one. It’s been understood for some time.”

  Merrick had to make her understand. “Only if you are married, Anne. I heard them say so. Otherwise, they are to take control of your inheritance until you turn twenty-five, at which time I imagine it will become yours whether you are married or not. I’m betting they’ll have it spent by then, or tied up so you can’t get it.”