Wolf of Arundale Hall

by Jennifer Leeland

  “Tell me, my dear wife, was it the fact that I spilled my seed on the soft skin of your thighs or the fact that I didn’t come inside you that bothers you the most?” His voice was soft and low, seducing her with every word.

  “Both,” she said through gritted teeth.

  With a casual flex of his muscles he pinned her to the bed and straddled her. Immobile, she cursed him, called him names out loud that she’d kept inside for years.

  She took a breath and he covered her mouth with his. When he lifted his head he held her gaze. “Do you know why I won’t gag you? Because I want to hear your clear, sweet voice when I make you come.”

  Her struggles only made things worse as she squirmed beneath him, her own body betraying her. The Beast was close now, Joshua’s eyes more wolf than human.

  He ripped her nightgown, ignoring her fists pummeling his chest, and shredded it into strips. He used them to tie first her right wrist to the headboard, then her left. She yanked on the material but he’d knotted it tightly. Then he tore her underclothes off her body and used them to tie her ankles to the footboard.

  Open and exposed, she seethed with rage. “Coward,” she snarled.

  The growl he gave her in response should have scared her out of her wits. Instead her skin tingled with some sick sort of anticipation.

  He inhaled deeply. “I smell your arousal, Elizabeth.”

  “So I’m a whore. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  The wolf was dangerously close to the surface now. He snapped his teeth, his muscles bunched. “You are no whore.” He straddled her thighs and slid down further until his face was level with her pussy. “I’ll show you what I want.”

  When he sucked on the scar he’d imprinted on the inside of her thigh, her blood boiled and churned. Pleasure tore through her and her pussy wept with need. His mouth locked on to her inner thigh, he thrust two fingers inside her slick channel and she couldn’t stop the roll of the orgasm that washed through her.

  Her nipples tightened from the force of her release but she only allowed a small sound to escape her lips. She would not scream. He could make her come. He had before. But he would not win.

  She yanked on the wrist restraints when he licked his way from the scar where he’d bitten her again to the seam between her thigh and her pussy. She tried to get away from his wicked mouth, terrified of what he would do to her, what it would cost her.

  But he was determined and she gasped when he caught her clitoris between his teeth. All these years and her fingers were the only touch that sensitive nub had ever known. Now his tongue, his teeth, his lips, showed her everything she’d missed, everything she’d longed for.

  The scream she’d sworn she’d never let loose rose in her throat. It choked her, strangled her. Her orgasm slammed into her like a wild animal, ravaging and tearing on its way. She writhed beneath his ministrations and exploded into a million pieces.

  When her scream ripped free it sounded like a wounded predator and filled the room with its noise. But Elizabeth didn’t care. She was lost in the ocean of need that her husband had just unleashed.

  Joshua growled with triumph when Elizabeth’s release flowed over his tongue. Oh, her sweet taste had haunted him. He devoured her, sending her over the edge again so he could feel her walls squeeze his fingers.

  His little wife had not been with men while he was gone. She was tight and as innocent as the day he’d consummated their marriage. The wolf howled in savage glee and the man joined it. She belonged to him and no one else.

  He watched her shudders subside and stroked her soft skin with his tongue. Beneath him, she lay completely still and he wondered if he’d killed her with passion. The idea made him smile against her skin. The smile died when he raised his head to study her.

  Her face was turned to the wall, away from him, and tears dripped from her eyes. A deep red color flushed her cheeks but not from pleasure. Her expression of shame sliced through him. “Elizabeth?”

  “It’s done now,” she said quietly, still not looking at him. “Please get off me.”

  He stared at her. The dead sound of her voice, the finality, struck him like a slap. “But I’m not done.”

  Her chest rose and fell in a broken sigh. “I will not fight you.”

  Like fragile glass, Joshua’s hope shattered. She would not forgive him. He’d come home too late.

  He reached up and yanked on the knot that tied her to the bed, releasing her hands. The emotional pain of sliding away from her, breaking more than just their physical connection, was like a punch to his gut. He jerked on the tie at her ankles, freeing her completely. “Why didn’t you write to me and tell me you’d found my mother’s diary?”

  Her head whipped around and she glared at him. “You ask me that?” Her feet rose up and kicked him off the bed. She swung out of the bed and stood nose to nose with him, her fists clenched. “You who refused to discuss any personal issues? Have you forgotten your second letter to me? ‘It is, perhaps, best that we keep our letters about business rather than personal matters. I cannot guarantee others will not see our words.’” She sneered his words, her lips twisted in anger. “You weren’t worried about the eyes of others. You didn’t want to discuss anything with me.” She turned her back on him and yanked open a drawer, removing underwear and a nightgown. “You don’t discuss anything now. You have come home and barked out orders, taken me to bed, but there has not been any discussion.”

  The next thing he knew, she had a pistol pointed at him. “I am sick of you and your entire family taking advantage of me. Get out of my room.”

  How had this gone so badly? Would she truly shoot him? He studied his wife carefully.

  He stepped closer, the muzzle of the gun against his belly. He slid his hands up her arms and winced when she shoved the gun deeper into his gut, her finger hovering over the trigger. “Even if it costs me my life, Elizabeth, I won’t go.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I’ll do it?”

  He stepped away and picked up his discarded clothes. “You’re too good—”

  The explosion of the gun echoed in the room and Joshua felt the sizzle of the air as the bullet missed his head by a fraction. The splat sound against the wall reverberated in the silence.

  The gun was still aimed at him. Her face had changed from the vulnerable, sweet wife ashamed of her lustful side to a cold, heartless expression he’d never seen on her face before.

  “Elizabeth!” He couldn’t stop the involuntary protest. He started for her but she backed away, the gun still aimed at him. “People will talk.”

  For a moment he thought she was going to chuck the gun at his face. “Talk? Talk? What do you think they did when you left me for ten years? What do you think they did when Perry was found drunk almost every night?” She gritted her teeth. “Don’t tell me about talk.”

  “Elizabeth—”

  “Get out of my room,” she repeated slowly.

  “This is my room,” he argued.

  The snick of the hammer as Elizabeth yanked it back registered with him. It was nothing compared to the murderous expression in her eyes. Forgiveness wouldn’t be forthcoming this night. “If you change your mind—”

  “I won’t,” she snapped.

  He picked up his remaining belongings and headed for the door. When he turned back, she held the gun steadily at his head.

  “So, tomorrow then.”

  She tipped her chin. “If you’re still here. I will be amazed if you are,” she said.

  For a moment, he considered taking the gun away but what then? He had given her pleasure using all the finesse and experience he had and she’d tried to shoot him. What was a man to do?

  He cursed under his breath and did the manly thing. He left.

  The door slammed behind him and he heard the bolt slide home. A scuffle and a slam indicated that she’d jammed a chair against the door. And then he heard a sound he never wanted to hear again. He heard his wife sob. It was a muffled, contained
sound all the more pathetic because it made such little noise. It made his heart clench.

  What had he been thinking? He leaned his head against the door, his stomach rolling and churning. Had he expected her to go back to the way they had been as children? For she had been little more than a child when he’d married her.

  Fool. He’d come home thinking she was only waiting for him to arrive. Instead she hated him.

  He pushed away from the door and pressed his fingertips against the solid wood that was only one small barrier between them. He wouldn’t give up. He had to prove to her that he was worthy of the love she’d given him when they were young.

  Next to the master bedroom was a small servant’s room and Joshua crawled into the empty bed wondering what the next day would hold—forgiveness or another cold day.

  When he awoke the next morning he splashed cold water on his face in the basin on the washstand and dressed. When he stepped out of his bedchamber he discovered a small woman with a pail in her hand. “Lady Arundale asked me to come and ask you if you would like your breakfast in your chamber.” The little maid gazed at him with clear blue eyes, but he caught a touch of judgment in her tone.

  Joshua realized that Elizabeth commanded loyalty—first from Jaimison, then Botter and now from this short snip of a girl. It needled him that they all felt the need to protect his wife from him. The woman hadn’t shifted her gaze from his face but he sensed that he’d made her uneasy somehow.

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Does it look like I will? What is your name?” he snapped.

  Her eyes widened. “Sarah MacDonald, sir. I am maid to Lady Arundale.”

  “No, you are maid to both of us, correct?” He narrowed his gaze on her face. “I am master of Arundale, Sarah. Do you wish to be forced to find another position?”

  Her spine straightened and she squared her shoulders. “If you wish to let me go, my lord, that is your prerogative.” For a moment, he thought she would stop there, but then she blurted out, “But I’d think you’d want your wife to have more help, not less, seeing as how she’s been run ragged by the group of lazy relatives you dumped on her.” Color drained from her face, showing she knew she had stepped over the line, but her chin tipped up and she held her ground.

  His mouth kicked up into a smile. Yes, the little maid would most definitely do for him. He hated subservient and cowed servants. He nodded, “You’re correct. Despite your vicious tongue, Sarah MacDonald, I like you. Inform Lady Arundale that I will be down in ten minutes.”

  Her mouth opened and then shut with a snap. Her skirts rustled as she rushed away to do his bidding.

  He’d dealt with his brother in part. Badly. He’d dealt with his wife in part. And almost been shot. Now, it was time to deal with his cousin. His lips pursed in frustration. Melinda was a problem. Another legacy of his Arundale heritage.

  Joshua and Melinda shared a common grandfather, the old Earl of Arundale, Charles Fitzwilliam Arundale, who had fathered four surviving children. Joshua’s father, Edward Arundale, had been the eldest son. None of Edward Arundale’s siblings had lived long enough to produce children except for Melinda’s mother, who had married a rather poor baronet.

  For reasons Joshua had never understood, his maternal grandmother, Lady North, had taken Melinda in. Lady North’s patronage had not ended well. Melinda’s marriage to a younger brother with no fortune and fewer prospects had enraged Joshua’s grandmother. After young Merick’s death, Melinda had been left pregnant and homeless. She had thought to convince her distant rich cousin to marry her, pointing out the wisdom of providing safety for his inheritance. After all, Melinda had the next male heir in line if he and Perry were to die childless, but Joshua had already been in love. With Elizabeth.

  Why hadn’t he considered what Melinda might do to his innocent wife? It was clear that Melinda manipulated her. In London, Joshua had learned of some the exploits Melinda had enacted. Her lying was legendary. Her avarice a matter of discussion. Gifts of money, it was said, earned little but a kiss, but Melinda never passed up an opportunity to obtain it.

  She had told many that she expected Joshua to come home, divorce Elizabeth and marry her. Her torturous method of enlisting highly regarded and rich noblemen to begin the process of seeking a divorce in Joshua’s name was fraught with scandal. When he’d come home and found her dressed more fashionably than his wife he’d known it was going to be a battle.

  He met his cousin at the top of the stairs. “Cousin,” he greeted her.

  Her smile was brilliant. “Joshua! What a poor welcome you received yesterday.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? I found dinner to be quite delicious.”

  Melinda waved her hand. “Parker is an excellent cook. That isn’t what I meant. I’m sure you could have had a warmer welcome from your wife and your brother.” She hooked her arm through his and whispered, “Perhaps they’re not glad you’re home for…well, the obvious reason.” She kept her gaze averted as she lied to him.

  “Enlighten me,” he said in a flat tone.

  She squeezed his arm. “Lizzy is still young and she and Perry have been thrown together much.”

  Anger swept through Joshua, tightening his muscles. “You accuse my wife of infidelity?”

  “Ten years is a long time, my lord.”

  He stopped on a step in the middle of the staircase. “I see.” Carefully, he removed her hand from his arm. “You will pack your bags and be gone by the end of the week, Melinda.”

  She gasped and clutched her heart. “You’re making me leave Arundale Hall? How can you do that to your heir?”

  “I don’t believe I mentioned Gerry at all, cousin.” He resumed his walk down the stairs. “You will go back to Lady North. Perhaps she will be more…generous in her dealings with you than my wife has been.”

  An unpleasant flush reddened Melinda’s face. “You can’t do this to me. I will demand that Gerry come with me.”

  Joshua turned away from her. “And you will lose. I’m afraid your adventures in London will count against you. There will be no money for you and if you do try to take Gerry, none for him.”

  Her voice was shrill. “He’s my son,” she practically screamed.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Joshua whirled to face her. “Indeed, cousin? Then why has my wife been the one to comfort him, care for him and feed him? It seems all you’ve done in my absence is drain the goodwill of a woman who is your better in every way.” He smiled, but felt no amusement. “The rumor you’ve begun of your impending nuptials to me upon my return must be quashed. You understand, I’m sure.”

  “Please do not do this, Joshua. Think of the scandal.”

  He glared at her. “The scandal? Truly, Melinda? This from a woman who has a reputation for flattering men for money? Of seeking gifts and jewelry in return for little but your smile?” He shook his head. “I do not fear the scandal when you leave, but I won’t tolerate the scandal that will come if you stay.” He turned away and headed for the dining room. “Be gone by the end of the week or I will have Jaimison and his men throw you out, scandal or no.”

  It probably did not speak well of Joshua that when he heard the strangled sob from his cousin’s throat he had a supreme sense of satisfaction. And no sympathy at all.

  *

  Raised voices outside the dining room reached Elizabeth’s ears but she refused to eavesdrop even though she longed to do so. She sighed. Those years of training held and had served her well in the past.

  After all, if it hadn’t been for her mother’s strict adherence to social niceties, Elizabeth could never have convinced Lady North to show her Lady Arundale’s things. If it hadn’t been for the constant pretense of interest in the old lady’s bigoted opinions, Elizabeth could not have obtained the diary that had proved to be her salvation.

  So despite the fact that she knew the voices to be those of her husband and Melinda, she did not crouch by the door and listen to their argument.

  “He’s sent her packing,” Sara
h announced from the doorway.

  Elizabeth stared at her maid. “What?”

  “I heard him. He’s given her until the end of the week to get out or he’ll have her thrown out.” Sarah grinned. “He’s given her a good piece of his mind as well.”

  It was difficult but Elizabeth managed a frown of disapproval. “Sarah, you shouldn’t derive such pleasure from her discomfiture.” But she couldn’t help asking, “What of Gerry? Did they discuss him?”

  “He told her she had to leave him here.” Sarah rushed to Elizabeth. “Oh, I’m so glad for you, ma’am.”

  She smiled at Sarah. How could the maid know what Elizabeth knew? That packing Melinda off meant nothing. It only meant that Joshua didn’t like being manipulated. Whatever hope she had that Joshua had come home contrite and willing to be her husband had been killed last night. She’d put a bullet in the wall to emphasize it. What man would want a woman who capitulated to a man’s touch one minute and tried to kill him the next?

  Her lips tightened. He’d deserved it, the bastard. “Thank you, Sarah. Now run along and tell Parker to serve breakfast.”

  Sarah curtsied and disappeared through the kitchen door. Elizabeth laid the silver on the table and fixed the flowers. Her hand was still on one of the morning roses when Joshua strode through the door. Even though she’d known he was coming, her hand jerked and she snagged it on one of the thorns.

  “Let me see it,” Joshua said.

  “It’s fine—”

  “Elizabeth,” he said in a warning tone.

  She held up her finger. Fascinated, she watched his eyes change from the cool gray, so dear and familiar, to the luminous blue that sent her heart racing. His teeth stretched and he slowly licked her wound. It was wicked and erotic, though all he did was lay his tongue on her hand. She shivered and closed her eyes. He owned her, heart and soul. Her brave words, her defiance, meant nothing against this torrid emotion he wrenched from her.

  “All better,” he whispered.

  The jagged scratch was gone, but another wound—deeper and unseen—still pained her. She gazed into his face. “When will you allow me to see it?”