Just A Little Wicked: A Limited Edition Collection of Magical Paranormal and Urban Fantasy Tales

by Lily Luchesi

  “I need to visit with Kitty Pritchard,” she said, her arm still looped through mine. “My supply of red lobelia petals is waning.”

  “Red?”

  “Red holds more potency than pink,” she said matter-of-factly.

  I rolled my eyes, my chest rising to accommodate a deep sigh. “More potency for whom?”

  Jessica’s mouth spread into a wide smile that illuminated her entire face. “Brenton Pollock.”

  “So,” I said frowning, “you turn down a proposition from the rather affluent George Wentworth, yet gladly set your sights on Brenton Pollock, who earns a pittance for sweeping the stables at Caldey House?”

  “I know.” Jessica laughed. “But you should see Brenton’s hands. They look so ... strong.”

  As I opened my mouth in hypocritical admonishment, she untangled her arm from mine and spun, dancing backward. “Meet me at Josie’s stall. I shan’t be long.”

  Before I could protest, she swerved into the crowd.

  ***

  As I lingered beside the bakery stand, deep inhalations drew in my favourite fragrance of the market: cottage loaves piled high next to plaits and scones. Beside me, Old Mrs Crowley pawed at the brick loaves, squeezing one after the other, whilst the proprietor watched with fidgety fingers, probably hoping for her to stop.

  As the sweet and warm, yeasty fragrance merged with heavenly musk, I tilted my head to the side, peering around the rotund baker, until my gaze locked with the dark one two rows over.

  “Hey.” Sean’s greeting scarcely caused his lips to move and would reach no other, but it carried to me as surely as if he had been at my side.

  Lower lip caught between my teeth, I smiled.

  “Really, young lady, you should be ashamed of yourself. Can you not show a modicum of decorum?”

  I turned to the ancient woman beside me and, ordering myself not to point out that leaving the house with a food stain upon one’s cheek could hardly be considered dignified, dipped my chin, adopting an expression of remorse. “Apologies, Mrs Crowley. I really do try my best ...” I just never seem to succeed.

  She stared at me for seconds, and my lips threatened to twitch, my laughter to escape—even more so at the rumble of Sean’s chuckles from across by the rug beater.

  Mrs Crowley patted my arm as she turned to walk away. “I shall pray for you, my dear,” she said, adding after she had gone a few steps, “Again.”

  “Cottage, is it, Miss Stonehouse?”

  I swung back to the baker and nodded, noting that Sean had once more obscured himself from me. “Three, if you would be so kind.”

  With my bread secured in a knapsack, I ambled toward Polly’s Preserves. Giles had a particular liking for strawberry jam, and I had promised to collect a few jars on my journey.

  A line of three patrons crowded the front of her stall when I arrived, and I awaited my turn behind a kitchen maid who had no doubt been sent out for supplies.

  Polly handed over a batch of marmalade to the front customer, a smile on her round, weathered face as currency changed hands. Once the buyer had moved away with his purchase, the line ushered forward. I had not even taken a step when Jessica grasped my arm.

  Brows drawn low, she hauled me away from the throng with her mouth set in a firm line. Around the stall, past the fruiterer, along to the far corner of the bank, where her fisted hands dropped to her sides, and she let out a resounding, “Urgh.”

  “What on earth is wrong?”

  “Elizabeth Wells.”

  I rolled my eyes, but with no ounce of humour. Elizabeth had never quite forgiven me for ‘snaring’ Sean, a male she had deemed worthy of herself, though I suspected she never wanted him for more than a short-term venture into the unknown. “What rumour has she begun now?”

  “Oh, she is sharing her usual vindictive lies, but she has evidently exhausted her supply of locals to tittle-tattle to. She has now taken to spreading her spiteful opinion to a complete stranger.”

  My frown arrived. “Are you certain?”

  “Of course. I heard her. Telling him how you live with a house full of men and service their every need, even called you a common whore ...”

  “Him?” My pulse thrummed as a deep unease settled within my chest.

  “The cheek of her. As if she has never lain with a man herself.” Three crimson petals rained down with an outward flick of Jessica’s arm, their stark beauty vivid against the backdrop of alleys and rotting fences. “She has raised her hems for far more than you, and if she would only cease to divert their attention, the villagers would notice ...”

  “You said him?”

  “But this?” She didn’t appear to focus on me as her head jerked, revealing her irritation. “This is unacceptable. Just how far does she intend to spread her poison?”

  I reached for her gesticulating arm and folded it in front of her, and her bosom heaved beneath her tempered breaths as her gaze finally swung around to me.

  “The stranger was a male?” I asked. “Are you certain?”

  “I am capable of telling the difference between genders. Especially upon one ... so ...” Panic glistened in her eyes as she trailed off, igniting my own.

  “So ...?”

  “Big.” She pointed over my shoulder, and as she did so, his scent swamped me.

  Werewolf.

  I whirled around.

  A towering male leaned against the wall, his head cocked to the side. Muscles strained beneath his pressed shirt, which did little to conceal the tightness of his stomach. Tendons corded throughout the length of his forearms, leading to hands that rested, unclenched, against thighs as thick as my waist.

  A flash of fear wedged within my throat, and for a second, my heart stuttered so loud I was certain he heard its distress call.

  From beneath a thatch of gold curls, curiosity seemed to battle with amusement in sparkling blue eyes that bored right into me. He peered about as though assessing our surroundings.

  I reached for Jessica’s hand and drew her close enough to lean into her hair. “Find Sean,” I whispered. “Go now.”

  By the time I nudged her away and looked back, the werewolf’s attention had returned to me. He made no attempt to straighten from his casual stance. Nor any effort to fill the silence. No, he seemed more than content to study me ... slowly ... from head to toe, returning to my face at exactly the same speed. Throughout the entire episode, his nostrils flared wide, and his chest rose with each deep inhalation.

  “Exquisite.” Hoarseness coated his singular word.

  I wished I could have said the same for him, but stale dog had never been one of my preferred scents. My muscles tensed, readying for departure.

  “Do not run.” Sean’s utterance drifted over to me like a soothing balm, and I relaxed my limbs, though they screamed for me to do the exact opposite.

  A subtle intake of breath and the density of Sean’s musk assured me of his nearness, confirmed when the stranger pushed away from the wall and eyed a spot behind me.

  “State your business and move on.” Sean’s chest warmed my back as he wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. “This territory is taken, and you are trespassing.” The quiet warning in his tone left little doubt that his statement extended to me, also.

  “It is true, then?” The outsider crossed his arms and stepped to the left. “A female really does exist.”

  Sean’s body stiffened, his arm a rigid cage holding me to him. “Perhaps you did not hear me?”

  “You never quite know whether or not to believe rumours, do you?” the werewolf asked, as though Sean had not spoken.

  “That is because they are rarely true.”

  “Except ... in this case, they are.” He nodded toward me before his focus shifted back to Sean. “The evidence speaks for itself, my friend.”

  Sean’s low growl vibrated against my shoulder. “I am no friend of a mongrel.”

  Lips twitching, he seemed to appraise Sean with his pale eyes, until the male spun my way, ducking
his head as though to emphasise my lack of height. “You should reconsider who you choose to protect you, young female. There are more worthy males who would be only too happy to oblige.”

  “I think no—”

  My body jerked backward as Sean tugged me behind him and emitted a quiet snarl. “I protect her just fine.” His hand reached for my arm as I peered around his torso.

  “Really?” The werewolf’s eyebrows arched up. “In a village where the locals are only too eager to tell all who pass through about the female you worship so fiercely, yet do not honour?” He sidestepped, head angled as he frowned down at me. “You, Miss Stonehouse, are the talk of all, whether you like it or not. Surely you must realise it is no longer safe for you here. If others were to come, you would be discovered within hours—minutes even.”

  Sean’s muscles coiled tight as he took a step forward. “I shall tear out your throat before you have a chance to tell—”

  The male’s gaze swung back toward Sean. “Oh, this information will not be shared. Make no mistake about that.” A harsh glint cooled his eyes. “There is little doubt you are unworthy of her, and I have no intention of inviting competition for when I prove as such.”

  “I am sure your friends would disagree with you ... if they were able.”

  Something akin to confusion clouded the werewolf’s eyes. “Friends?”

  “Yes.” Sean gave a nod. “The ones you no doubt sent to test our strengths.” The ones Sean had sent to an early grave only the morning before. “They shall not be reporting back to you.”

  “I have sent no one. As I already made clear, I am in need of no pack to support my cause.” His smile returned the warmth to his features as he bowed in my direction. “Good day to you ... Jem. I look forward to meeting with you again.”

  As the werewolf pivoted and walked off, Sean’s rumble broke free of his chest and spilled from his lips. At his forward strides, I grasped his shirt and yanked back to stall him.

  “Not now, Sean.” My tone arrived calm, though I felt anything but. “And certainly not here.”

  Although he strained against my hold, he did not fight me. Far from calm, Sean merely stared after the disappearing male, whilst the outsider’s slow, sauntered pace sent a very clear message that he did not consider Sean to be a threat in the slightest.

  In my opinion, that made him a fool.

  ***

  Watching me being marched from the marketplace surrounded by four males must have made the villagers’ day. Thanks to Jessica following Sean’s order to run for help, Giles, Philip and Charles had all shown up before we had a chance to exit the bustle of patrons, and they had moved into position as though guarding the king’s crown itself. Understandably, mumbles and whispers chased us as a visibly agitated Sean led us home.

  His mood had not lifted one bit since. Even at the kitchen table, the clanging of tools and snarls could be heard from the barn.

  Only a fool would believe him finished when quiet descended. Especially as the last three lulls had been to accommodate his stomps into the house, to toss opinions at whomever he chose to be on the receiving end.

  As sure as expected, footsteps hit the ground, coming toward the house. Seconds later, his bulk filled the back door, casting the table in shade.

  When his stare sought me out, I braced myself for words I had been expecting but had so far escaped. “You were wrong to stop me from following him.”

  I gave a small headshake. “You were wrong to consider it.”

  The scrutiny of the pack seemed to flitter from me to Sean and back to me again. No sound patterned the air, as though each of them held his breath.

  With a quiet growl, Sean spun and strode in the direction of the barn again.

  More banging ensued. A couple of roars. Doors slammed—open or closed, I could not tell. The footsteps began their return journey.

  The entire room darkened when he stepped back in through the doorway, and tension claimed every set of shoulders around the table.

  Sean’s hand raised, his finger pointing my way. “You were wrong to stop me from following him, because I could have subdued him enough to bring him back here for questioning.”

  “You do not know that,” I said, my tone even.

  “He was alone.” A quiet rumble drew out the last word before he took a deep breath. “You heard him say as such, as well did I.”

  “It could have been a trap.”

  Giles’s nod hit my periphery, though at a hard glare from Sean, he ceased the gesture.

  “Just like in the forest the other eve,” I added.

  The glower Sean sent my way told me he in no way appreciated the reminder. He backed down from the step and once again wore a path to the barn.

  I glanced around at my pack brothers—from Giles on my left, to Edward at the foot of the table, and across to Charles and Philip occupying the opposite side. Their lowered heads rose as though each sensed my stare, and their gazes met mine in turn.

  Charles raked his fingers through his fair hair. “You shall not reason with him until he has calmed.”

  “Would you rather I sat mutely?” I asked, my eyebrow arching. “Because that, I cannot do. Not when he would rather risk himself, rationality be damned.”

  Charles’s mouth remained open, as though he still had words to speak, but he closed it at the returning thud of feet heading toward us from outside.

  Sean’s step into the house elevated his six foot three height, his intense gaze aimed at me. “Are you saying you think me incapable of smelling a lie?”

  I sighed. “Not at all.”

  “You merely consider me incapable of apprehension?” His deepened tone dared me to challenge him.

  Unfortunately, I had little control over my growl of irritation. “Do not be ridiculous, Sean.”

  He threw his arms wide, his brows drawn low. “What, then?”

  “I cannot encourage you to head toward a potential fight when you are not fully focussed.”

  His retort resembled more a bark than a growl. “Now, who is being ridiculous?”

  “You and I both know my presence would have distracted you.” I used my most reasonable tone, echoing words Giles had used to placate me on many an occasion.

  Giles’s hand found mine beneath the table and offered a gentle squeeze, as Sean fisted his hands in his hair and whirled for the exit again.

  He took only a few steps when his rhythm faltered, and he halted just beyond the kitchen window, his dark strands shining beneath the glow of the sun. For a moment, he raised his face, eyes closed, one hand rubbing across the nape of his neck.

  He turned around and re-emerged through the doorway. “The outsider can be dealt with another time.” He nodded at me. “I shall grant you that.”

  I released the breath I had clung onto, easing a heavy ache that had settled in my chest.

  Sean paced to the far corner of the kitchen. “But that does not confront the even greater problem we evidently have.” The flesh drew tight around his eyes as he frowned, and he seemed to aim his focus at the entire pack when he turned. “That Jem’s position here with us is creating too much outside interest.” His eyes darkened, voice thickened. “Living with us ... as she is ... it cannot possibly work any longer .... She is no more than fodder for the gossipmongers, and that is not likely to change—”

  I shot to my feet with enough force to topple my chair. “I shall not be forced to leave what I consider my home because of the tongue of Elizabeth Wells. How could you suggest such an idea?”

  His frown hung low enough to canopy the emotion in his stare. “That is not what I am saying.”

  “You would send me away on the petty stirrings of another?” My fist came to rest upon the table-top.

  “No ... the answer is simpler than that.”

  I stared at him. When his answer was not forthcoming, I asked, “Well ... what is it?”

  His long inhale inflated his chest before he released it on a gush and a nod. “I ... shall have to marr
y you.”

  My mouth opened, hanging there for a second until I ordered it shut. As his words settled into the interpretation compartment of my brain, the first flames of hurt licked at the edges of my soul, until a hazy mist descended to mar my vision.

  Sean’s eyebrow twitched upward as his head tilted. “Jem?”

  Total and utter deflation swept through me, when I realised how far Sean’s proposal had been from the scenario I always dreamed of, and my heart swelled to implosive proportions.

  The tiniest scrape of a chair behind me told me my silence had stretched into an uncomfortable one, but I cared not, as an incessant knuckle of annoyance rapped at my hurt until it spiralled into fury. My hands clenched and unclenched at my waist, my spiked pulse forcing the blood to rush through my veins.

  Sean ducked his head a little as he shuffled another foot forward. “Jem? Say something.”

  I had to loosen my jaw to speak. “I care not for your ... proposal in the slightest, Mr Holloway.”

  Skirts grasped in a white-knuckled, crumpled gathering, I thudded my way along the hall and out the front door.

  Sean’s voice carried to me before I could slam it shut. “What did I say?”

  4

  Dirt coated my hems from each kicked step of my feet. The fabric of my skirt had severe creasing I doubted would ever be pressed out from the tight grip of my fists. Only the verdant aroma drifting across on the breeze guided my path alongside the forest, as tears pooled in my eyes and distorted my view of the world.

  From somewhere to my right, within the treed border, Giles’s spicy scent told me he followed, despite my growled demands that he go back and leave me alone. Only once I had pounded his chest and bared my teeth in a desperate rage had he ceased trying to talk to me, though he lingered still—probably as ordered by Sean.

  Sean.

  A pathetic sob stumbled from my lips at the mere thought of his name.

  How could he?

  Even more so, how dare he?