Witch of Arundale Hall
Jennifer Leeland
This book is a sequel to Wolf of Arundale Hall.
A wicked curse on the men of Arundale transforms them into bloodthirsty beasts when their passions are high. Lady Sarah Ayers can wait no longer to do what only she can—end the curse. Her ancestor cast the spell and she must undo it. But to accomplish her goal she cannot let her body overrule her sense of duty, no matter how hard she finds it to resist the deviant sexual impulses that hold her in thrall to Perry Arundale.
Perry will do whatever it takes, with his words or his wilder side, to make Sarah his. But he doesn’t know that the bond between them could lead Sarah to lose not only her heart but her life.
Inside Scoop:This story contains scenes of voyeurism, BDSM and mixed-gender ménage.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Witch of Arundale Hall
Jennifer Leeland
Chapter One
“How are you doing, Miss Sarah?”
Lady Sarah Ayers glanced up from the floor she was scrubbing then scurried to her feet. “Lord Alfred, I didn’t hear you come in.” Sarah smoothed down her apron. She’d grown accustomed to a maid’s attire and she did not miss the rather uncomfortable stylish dresses she’d worn as a young girl. “I am well, sir.”
“You have been a good addition to Wolford House,” Lord Alfred said. He perused the room she had cleaned and seemed satisfied.
She couldn’t follow his gaze to the wooden cross with iron manacles, a black saddle and rings on the legs, which she’d wiped clean. The girls in the house called these accoutrements “equipment”. She found them a wretched temptation.
As if he could read her mind, Lord Alfred met her gaze and asked, “You don’t find things too difficult then?”
It was a simple question. But it wasn’t.
Lord Alfred Bantry, a mature man with an air of superiority most titled males carried, had asked her no questions when she’d arrived on his doorstep with only a small bag and a letter from Lord Marcus Everrett. She had escaped Arundale Hall, her back a mass of wounds, her heart given to a cursed man and her reputation in ruins. Lord Marcus had sent her to Wolford House to work as a maid.
In London she hoped to escape from the hopeless love for Perry Arundale that had caused so much heartache for everyone involved. But nothing could separate her from the mark Perry had given her, the impression of his bite, which had not faded despite the months since she’d received it.
A mark that had changed her in ways no woman could endure. It made her needy, desperate for things a lady should not want. Lord Alfred, a man who peddled desire to the rich and titled, seemed well aware of her…dilemma.
“I am able to endure,” she said, unable to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”
“I made you a promise that first night. Do you remember it?” he asked, his tone sharp.
She raised her head and met his stare. “You said that no one would hurt me.”
He put his hands behind his back. “I asked you very little that night. Marcus had sent a cryptic note that indicated I shouldn’t ask too many questions.” The man paced the room, his waistcoat straining against his slight paunch.
Finally he stopped and frowned at her. “I know what Marcus is. You are not like him. But somehow you are connected to what he is. Do you deny this?”
Her breath caught. “No.” No, she couldn’t deny it. All the men with Arundale blood were cursed. They changed into wolves, beasts of violence. “I do not deny it.”
Lord Alfred stared intently at her. “Marcus loved Derek—his preference is for men. That will not have changed because of Derek’s death. You are not his paramour.”
She swallowed. “No sir.” No, she was not Marcus’ lover. But after Derek’s death Marcus had been willing to help Sarah once he knew what she was determined to do. Her intention to end the curse that created the wolves of Arundale coincided with Marcus’ desire to be free of it.
Lord Alfred, Marcus’ mentor, studied her, clearly thinking, considering. “Marcus trusted me with his secrets, Lady Sarah. If you do not wish to find yourself out on the street I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me with yours.”
Though the man’s tone was gentle there was no doubt Lord Alfred meant what he said. Lord Marcus had been hated by his father, who knew him to be a bastard of Arundale, and had been rescued by Lord Alfred. The older man, a distant cousin, had introduced Marcus to the business of providing unusual entertainment for the more deviant members of the ton.
He had been patient, allowing Sarah to work as a maid at Wolford House and not requesting an explanation for her secretive manner or her desire to remain anonymous. Her hope that she could leave Mr. Perry Arundale behind and forget the connection between them had seemed possible for a short time.
But now Lord Alfred wanted her to admit what she had wanted to forget. All her efforts to escape her fate had been for nothing.
She wanted to laugh. Secrets? What would Lord Alfred say if she told him that she had visions of the future? Would he mock her when she told him that she’d seen the death of her mother before it had happened, that she’d seen the man whom she would love before she’d known his name, that she’d seen what would happen if she remained at Arundale Hall? No. Some secrets were hers to keep.
Her determination to find the truth, to discover whether Lady Marion North lied to her during the years Sarah had been in her care…that was all she had left. Love was not for her.
Her mouth was dry and her throat closed as tears threatened to weaken her. She was desperate, focused on one goal only, and that was to end the curse. If Lord Alfred threw her out she was in danger of never being able to accomplish that goal.
It seemed like an impasse but Lord Alfred leaned toward her and touched her shoulder. “You are not a wolf, so I can only assume that you are like Derek. But if not intended for Marcus, then…” He frowned for a moment. “I’m going to guess that you are running from a wolf to whom you are mated. Am I right?”
“No, not mated,” she said, and her lips trembled. Oh, she had lost her innocence to Perry, as well as her heart. The bite on the inside of her right thigh was the first stage of his ultimately claiming her. But he had not taken the final step, implanting his seed in her body.
What did it matter? From the beginning she had been a hindrance to the Arundale family. “I want to end the curse. I have to go to France. But I have no money, no friends, my relations have shunned me and my reputation is in tatters.”
Lord Alfred nodded. “I heard the rumors. Lord Robert Applegate does damage even from the grave,” he said. “Did he give you the marks on your back?”
His words transported Sarah back to that horrible day. She had known Lord Robert wanted the Arundale men dead, and had attempted to interfere. As a result Lord Robert had kidnapped her and used her to lure Perry into a trap. While Perry was restrained and forced to watch, Lord Robert had whipped her with a cat-o’-nine tails, permanently scarring her back.
“I was foolish. The scars on my back are the results of my folly.” The scars were a reminder to Sarah. In an effort to save the man she loved, she’d allowed him to fall into Lord Robert’s power. Her presence in his life had only caused him pain.
“But the man who put them there is not the wolf who seeks to Claim you?” Lord Alfred asked, and Sarah smiled. He was a protector, a man who would not stand by and allow the helpless to be hurt.
“No, it was not him.” For a moment her longing for Perry was almost too much to bear. She had seen him in a vision, fallen in love with him and prayed she would find him. But when she had, she’d been sent by Lady North to destroy the Arundale men. Once she saw that Perry Arundale was the man from
her visions, she could not obey Lady North but neither could she admit her true identity. All her relations with the Arundales were based on lies and deception.
“He will come for you though.” Lord Alfred tapped his fingers on the saddle, his fingers’ drumming muffled by the leather.
She tipped her chin. “I work hard. You have not regretted employing me, have you?”
Lord Alfred met her gaze. “I will not keep him out.”
She blinked. “Sir?”
The man stepped back, his arms crossed. “When Marcus fell in love with Derek, it was clear to me that he would stop at nothing to have the man. Derek was reluctant, his position as a houseboy making him think he wasn’t fit to black Marcus’ boots. Derek tried to hide, to run from Marcus. Instead Marcus tracked him down, tied him up for three days and fucked him into compliance.”
Sarah gasped. She wanted to be shocked but the overwhelming response from her traitorous body was anticipation and arousal. Damn the curse.
Lord Alfred continued. “The absolute torment I saw in Marcus’ face was painful. He hurt without Derek, in every way possible there was to hurt.” He stared at her seriously. “I peddle pain in all kinds of ways, Lady Sarah, but the agony I saw in Marcus was not the kind I want here. If your mate comes here you must face him.”
“Even if he would hurt me?” she pleaded, knowing it was a lie.
“Would he?” Lord Alfred asked sharply.
Of course Perry could hurt her. He could destroy her soul and leave her heartbroken. But she was well aware that Lord Alfred meant physically. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Not in the way you mean.”
Lord Alfred raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “You want to end the curse. To me that means you love someone who is hurt by it.” His tone softened. “You look just like Derek did when he ran from Marcus. Afraid and alone, desperately in love, yet running like hell.” He took her hand and held it gently. “You love this man but you believe he doesn’t love you.”
She snatched her hand away but the scathing words she wanted to say died on her lips. Instead she told him the truth. “How could he?” She sat up straight. “I betrayed him. I lied to him about who I was and why I was a maid. I took advantage of his vulnerability. He is cursed and if he Claims me as his mate we are doomed to a life of lies and bitterness. No, he doesn’t love me. He is dictated to by his blood and his duty. I am only a bystander.”
“You do not strike me as a bystander in this, Lady Sarah,” Lord Alfred said softly. “I made you a promise and I will keep it.”
Lord Alfred nodded and stepped out of the room and allowed Sarah to get on with her work. The man’s words had brought back the past—the loving touch of Perry’s hands, the agony in his voice when he’d begged her to let him see her after Lord Robert had beaten her, the pain of the vision she’d had of death and blood if she remained at Arundale Hall.
Six months had passed and Sarah had started to believe that Perry had given up, that he’d realized how hopeless it was between them. It should have been a relief. Instead it hurt.
As she retrieved her bucket and moved to the next room she wondered if Lady Marion North, grandmother to Perry and Joshua Arundale and the woman who had orchestrated an attempt on their lives, had told her nothing but lies.
No—some of what the woman had told her had been truth, backed up by evidence. Those precious papers, copied from scrolls in France, depicting the details of the DeFalk curse. The curse that made the DeFalk descendants, including the Arundale men, turn into wolves. The same papers that said any child she bore would not live beyond its fifth year.
None of that mattered. She would end the curse, and perhaps she could find happiness. But as the descendent of a witch Sarah wondered if that was possible.
Chapter Two
“Mr. Perry Arundale, as I live and breathe.”
Perry turned to face the man who’d hailed him. The inn was too crowded and too dim. Perry had wanted to bolt as soon as he’d arrived but he had no idea how long it would take to see Sarah. Most of his friends in town wanted nothing to do with him.
As Benjamin Isler smiled and stretched out a hand Perry wondered what he wanted. “Ben, how are you?” he said politely.
Ben shook Perry’s hand. “You’re acting as if we’re strangers. It’s been too long.”
In a way, Perry thought, they were strangers. Ben had been a drinking companion and sometimes they had shared sexual congresses at brothels. Perry’s excesses had been brought on by his need to ignore the beast inside him, by the hatred he had for his weaknesses and the anger he carried against the world in general.
Ben had been a willing participant in Perry’s degradation. It had been Ben who had introduced Perry to Lord Marcus Everrett and his house of pleasure. It had been Ben who had gone to Perry’s sister-in-law, Elizabeth, and revealed his location. What did the man want from him now?
“It hasn’t been long enough,” he said stiffly, and Ben’s smile dimmed a bit.
“Come now,” he said brightly. “Don’t be like that.” Ben led Perry to a quiet corner in the pub section of the inn. “I have news for you. Remember that pretty piece you had working as a maid at Arundale Hall?”
Perry froze. How the hell did Ben know about Sarah? His gaze narrowed on his friend. The wolf within growled, straining Perry’s control. “Sarah. Her name is Sarah, not a ‘pretty piece’. You’d best remember it.”
“You always were rather a fool over her,” Ben said with a laugh. “I’ve seen her. Can you believe it? She’s a maid at Wolford House.”
Shit. How did Ben know? Marcus had revealed that he’d sent Sarah there and Jaimison had been satisfied that she was safe. But if Ben knew, who else might find out?
Perry had never been to the well-known house. In London he had sought the seedier locations, unable to contain his darker side, which seemed at home in a brothel. Wolford House was a place for a higher class of clientele. He had heard that Wolford House pandered to the fantasies of many of the ton who sought more adventurous sexual experiences.
And Sarah worked there.
This was all his fault. Had he remained sober in spite of her rejection, he wouldn’t have contracted pneumonia. The sickness had almost killed him. He had already been on the hunt for her when he’d collapsed but for six months the illness had kept him from following her.
“When did you see her?” he questioned Ben sharply.
“Last week.” Ben studied Perry. “You have lost weight.”
“I’ve been ill. Did you speak to her?” He wanted to shake the man.
Ben shrugged. “No. I was…occupied at the time,” he said with a wicked smirk. “Are you in town for long? I’ve missed our jaunts.”
Perry barely responded, his mind whirling with the new information. “I don’t know. It was good to see you, Ben, but I must go.”
“As you wish. You can find me at Lord Kellen’s house.” Ben grinned. “The man was foolish enough to invite me for the season.”
“Yes, thank you,” Perry said, distracted. He found the innkeeper and called for his horse. There was one person who might get him an audience with Lord Alfred Bantry, the owner of Wolford House. He hadn’t spoken to her in months but he hoped she would help.
* * * * *
Nothing more had been said to Sarah regarding Perry Arundale and she hoped she would be safe from more questions. A week had passed and Lord Alfred had said no more. In every other way her employment was a stroke of good luck. Lord Alfred was a meticulous taskmaster, demanding high standards and working his people long hours. But he was a generous and caring employer, not only to the household staff who cleaned and cooked but also to the staff who worked in his business venture. All who worked for him were given every medical attention available to keep them healthy and as much security as Lord Alfred could provide.
Sarah had gotten used to the unconventional hours and the strange tasks required of her. She’d cleaned up substances whose origin and purpose she didn
’t want to know. Yet the sexual congresses she’d witnessed also stirred something beneath her skin. She had a better understanding of what Elizabeth Arundale had suffered all those years without her husband. For like herself, Elizabeth had been unclaimed when she and Joshua had been separated by an ocean. How difficult it must have been to retrieve Perry from places like this with her own needs unfulfilled. At least Sarah had chosen this. Elizabeth had had no choices at all.
Surprisingly, none of the patrons of Wolford Hall accosted her, though she’d been told by Leonardo—called Leo by the staff—that more than one had asked for her. Lord Alfred had said she was off-limits and all the business staff protected her.
“Room five needs a cleanup,” said Bessie, the other maid, as she passed her in the hall. “The rest can wait until morning.”
Sarah studied the maid. Bessie was both a servant and a house worker. Her ample bosom and her bright smile made her a house favorite. But Sarah didn’t think Bessie sold her body for money. The woman was choosy and only accepted men she liked. Her dark-brown hair was long and curly when she let it down and her curves were the kind men chased but she was no femme fatale.
Her kindness to Sarah had been unexpected and welcome.
“Are you sure, Bessie? I don’t mind cleaning them tonight.” Sarah had worked hard, picking up more than was assigned to her so that Bessie could service other patrons.
Bessie’s grin was warm. “We both have a night off, my dear. There’s only two rooms occupied, so go and have a cup of warm milk and a good sleep.”
“I’ll get room five cleaned up.” Sarah watched Bessie saunter up the stairs to her room. She wished she was a simple maid—no family obligation, no bloodline to hold her accountable. But she wasn’t a maid. She’d been born Lady Sarah Ayers and she was from a carefully planned bloodline.
Now she was a maid working in a house of ill-repute. But she liked her work and saved her money, hoping for the day she could finally go to Bayeux and stop the curse.
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