WitchofArundaleHall

by Jennifer Leeland

  He could not bear to look at her. “I shall be ready.” Lady Bastworth was a reminder. He did not deserve love, so he received none. He had done his duty and married the woman he had ruined. That he loved her was of no consequence.

  “Lady North will be there.” Sarah’s voice was small.

  “We can deal with her.” Perry didn’t think there was anything his grandmother could say that she hadn’t said in his head a thousand times.

  “She is vicious when angered,” Sarah said, and the rustle of her skirt revealed that she had moved closer to him. “You should let me handle her.”

  “No.” There was no other answer. Sarah had never been Lady North’s target. Perry of all people was aware of what the old bitch was capable of.

  Your mother didn’t want you, Perry. You were an accident, an anomaly. They only wanted each other, and Joshua to carry the title. Why would she want you?

  “Perry—”

  He whipped around and glared at her. “You may deny me your bed, deny the bond between us, but you will not defy my word in our marriage. Lady North has a nasty tongue and I will not allow her to hurt you.” He curled his lip, his hurt and anger rising. “Since you will allow me nothing else, you will respect me in this.”

  Her lower lip trembled for an instant before she pressed them together and her eyes narrowed. “We should face her together.”

  He laughed, bitterly amused. “And give her the very weapon she needs to destroy me? I think not.”

  “What do you mean?” Sarah’s brow furrowed into a frown.

  “I mean that two minutes in our presence will reveal that our marriage is loveless and unconsummated. Lady North is adept at intuiting things like that.” He shook his head. “Leave her to me. And Madame de Laval.”

  Sparks shone in Sarah’s blue eyes. “Now I understand.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What do you understand?”

  “Madame is to supplant me, take my place by your side so that when you discard me after I break the curse—” Sarah stopped and bit her lip.

  He stared at her. “That’s insanity.”

  “Is it?” She poked him in the chest. “Ever since we’ve met you’ve caroused and seduced women. Is it any wonder that I’m cautious?”

  He snorted. “Cautious? Is that what you’re calling it? You’re right, Sarah. I’m a scoundrel, a wicked man and a fool.” He swept his gaze from her hair to her slippered toes. “But I am the man in this marriage. Defy me at your peril.”

  She tossed her head. “I’m not afraid of you. You won’t hurt me.”

  “I could make you want me.” He stepped closer and towered over her. “I could destroy you with your own desire.” He sniffed and smiled as he scented the warm, intoxicating smell of his woman. “You want me now. I can smell it.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she snapped.

  He cocked his head to the side. “It would be an easy task,” he said, wanting to inflame her.

  What he didn’t expect was her familiar right hook. He stopped her fist an instant before it connected with his nose. “I don’t think so,” he said. But touching her, gripping her hand, loosed the beast and his control slipped. “I warned you.”

  She let out a squeak as he yanked her toward the settee to turn her over his knee. He’d desired to spank her again since that fateful night at Wolford House. Now he was going to make her come from it. His own desires be damned. He would prove to her that he was more dangerous to her than she believed.

  Jealousy had burned in Sarah’s stomach since she’d rejected Perry on their wedding night. He’d kept away from her and she was sure he’d found relief with someone else. The reason she’d focused on Madame de Laval was that the woman was so beautiful and desirable, and it was clear that she and the man she loved, Mr. Asher, would provide pleasure to a third party.

  In the early hours of the morning when she couldn’t sleep, she had tormented herself with visions of the erotic couple with Perry. Many times she’d resisted her desire to go to Perry and retract her words.

  Now she fought him wildly, squirming in his implacable hold. “Let me go, you—you beast!”

  He swung her toward him, his face thrust close to hers. “Now you have the right of it. I am a beast, a monster, evil, wicked…and your husband.” He jerked her over his knee and yanked her skirts up. She’d thought her petticoats would prove a frustration to his intent but she was wrong. He made short work of the linen layers between her body and his touch.

  “No,” she protested, but it was no use. He spanked her, his slaps on her buttocks sharp and precise.

  “Yes,” he said, his tone angry. “You. Are. Mine.” He punctuated each word with a smack to her bottom that made her moan.

  He whipped her around and plundered her mouth, his punishing lips leaving her no room to escape even if she’d wanted to. And she didn’t want to. She opened her mouth and arched in his arms. His. She was his.

  All her good intentions, all her good sense deserted her and she was as needy and aggressive as Perry. As his hands roamed over her breasts she shifted to give him better access. Shamelessly she returned his kiss, as desperate for him as he seemed to be for her.

  He broke the kiss but only to plant more on her throat and bite her. Shards of pain mixed with desire shuddered through her, driving her to thrust her fingers through his hair and press him closer.

  “Sarah,” he groaned against her flesh. He lifted his head and met her gaze.

  His gray eyes were the familiar luminous blue and the transformation brought her to her senses. “No!” She shoved him away and tumbled off his lap, almost landing on her arse.

  Her hands shook as she tried to straighten her skirts and hair. When she finally looked at him her heart clenched. The grim expression of defeat on his face made her stomach churn and she had to grit her teeth to remain quiet.

  The silence between them was painful. She opened her mouth to break it, to tell him she loved him heart and soul, but she couldn’t do it. Instead she stumbled toward the door and escaped, thankful that Perry didn’t stop her.

  * * * * *

  What a disaster. Oh, outwardly the wedding luncheon was perfect and had enough food for everyone, but Sarah knew it had been an utter nightmare.

  First of all, every low family connection she had in the whole of England had appeared on her doorstep uninvited. And then her brother had proceeded to drink excessively while the rest of the party looked on.

  The worst moment had been, as Sarah had feared, when Lady North had begun to share her opinion of the newly wedded couple.

  “You might have informed your own grandmama of this sudden attachment, Perry,” she said in a loud, piercing tone. “Your bride couldn’t have enjoyed being rushed to the altar.”

  “We decided not to wait, madam,” Perry answered with no sign of impatience. Perhaps he’d been right to insist on being the one to bear the brunt of Lady North’s insinuations. Yet Sarah couldn’t help but think it did more damage than he let on.

  “I could say it wasn’t your decision to make,” the old lady snapped.

  “You could,” he said in a calm, reasonable tone. “But it would be pointless. More tea?”

  Sarah glanced around the room and noted how everyone was riveted by the conversation. It disgusted her. This was her family, the people who should wish her well, but they were avidly listening for conflict to gossip about.

  “You should have come to stay with me. Many of my friends wouldn’t darken the doors of the house of Madame de Laval.” Lady North didn’t try to moderate her tone. “But I suppose her goodwill was all you could count on.”

  “Sarah and I do not require the goodwill of the ton.”

  Lady North snorted. “A good thing, since you certainly will not receive it.”

  “How is Lord Pauncfort?” Perry asked as he poured Lady North’s tea. “I had heard he was back from India.”

  For a moment Sarah had the supreme pleasure of seeing Lady North’s face flush with color. Lord Digor
y Pauncfort was an old aristocrat who had loudly proclaimed that Lady North was his paramour. Whenever he was in England he would attempt to visit her several times a month, usually to no avail. But his stories of their supposed torrid affair from years past were humiliating to a woman with Lady North’s cold demeanor.

  “I have not seen the man.” Lady North glared when someone behind her tittered.

  Perry met Lady North’s baleful gaze. “Haven’t you? Well, then, I pity the man. He is so very keen on you.”

  When Lady North hissed in a breath Sarah wondered if she should step in and smooth things over. But she was too late.

  Lady North stepped closer to Perry and spoke in a low, vicious tone. “I have no pity for an animal such as you.”

  Without flinching, Perry remained unperturbed. “I am well aware of that, Grandmother. I have never required it.”

  The woman opened her mouth to attack him again and Sarah could not stand it. “Lady North, won’t you come and see Madame’s family portrait? There is a picture of Lord Edward North that I had never seen.”

  Before Perry could interfere she led Lady North from the room.

  “Unhand me, child.” Lady North tried to twist away from Sarah’s death grip.

  “Be quiet,” Sarah snapped. She half dragged the woman to the gallery toward the back of the house. No guests were within earshot and she planned to give Lady North a piece of her mind.

  When they stopped, Sarah had indeed led Lady North to a portrait of her grandfather, the ancestor she shared with Madame de Laval. “Who informed you that I was at Wolford House?” she demanded.

  Lady North’s smile was thin and secretive. “A friend.”

  “Your friends are not my friends, Lady North. I wish to be left alone.” Sarah noted that Lady North’s lips tightened, a sign of her anger.

  “You are mated to an animal. Have you remembered nothing that I taught you?” There was no softness in Lady North. “Any child you have will die. No child born from a union of your family and his lives beyond the fifth year. Have you told him?”

  “I have told him. He thinks you lie,” she said, and tipped her chin up in defiance.

  Lady North’s nostrils flared. “If you think you can change your destiny then you are a fool. He will discard you when he finds that none of your children will live.”

  “More than likely.” Sarah could not disagree with that assessment. Of course, she hoped to end the curse completely and then, perhaps, the curse on her own line would end too.

  Lady North stepped closer. “I hope you are Claimed. Then all your hope of ending the curse would die.”

  With gritted teeth Sarah strained to be polite. “So you say.”

  “There will be no happy ending for you. I will make sure of that,” the woman stated.

  Sarah straightened her back, drawing herself to her full height. “Since that is your position it would be prudent for you to leave.”

  “You would play lady of the manor with me?” Lady North sneered. “You do not have the courage to toss me out publicly.”

  In answer Sarah gripped the older woman’s arm and yanked her back toward the party. When she reached the main room she dragged Lady North to the footman waiting in the hallway. “Lady North has tired herself. She is leaving,” Sarah said firmly.

  “You chit,” Lady North snapped. “I will not be treated this way.”

  “If you come and threaten my marriage again, you will be asked to leave…again.” Sarah held the woman’s gaze for what seemed like an eternity.

  There was a hush behind her. The visitors had stopped talking, stopped eating. She could hear their waiting breaths.

  Finally Lady North drew herself up to her straightest. “This is not over.”

  “On the contrary,” Sarah said, “it is over. You have been rude to my husband, insulted our hostess and defamed me. Our further connection would be an exercise in futility.”

  She couldn’t help remembering the years she’d spent under Lady North’s tutelage, learning to accept the role her bloodline demanded. There had been moments she had felt…almost loved by the old woman. But now all that was gone.

  “I make a very bad enemy,” Lady North warned.

  Sarah lowered her voice and held the woman’s glare. “You have been a worse friend.”

  With one final snort Lady North stomped past the footman, who scrambled to open the door and call for her carriage.

  There was a long moment of silence then everyone talked at once. Sarah turned and strode back to where Perry stood, frozen, beside the fireplace. “Do you think it will rain today, my dear?” she asked.

  Perry didn’t answer her but he took her hand and clasped it tightly. Then he dropped it and began to talk about the weather.

  Chapter Seven

  Despite their solidarity Sarah was aware that the luncheon had only increased the talk it had been meant to stifle. It had restored her reputation in one area and destroyed it in another. After all the guests had gone home Madame de Laval approached her and gave her arm a quick squeeze.

  Perry said nothing of note to her but bowed formally as he left her at her bedroom door. What had she thought would happen? No man wanted to be tossed out on his wedding night, despite Sarah’s reasoning.

  The weather seemed to complement her mood, a steady, dismal rain pouring down in the night and spattering against her window. The wind seemed to whistle through the old chimneys and a low moaning sound echoed through the hallways.

  A cold blast of wind shuddered through her bedroom and plunged her into darkness. Damn old house. Sarah staggered to her feet and closed the window then stumbled to the tinderbox by the dying fire.

  “You’ll catch a cold with no fire,” a low voice said, and someone grabbed her arm.

  Two things blazed across Sarah’s mind instantly. One, this was the man who had accosted her at Wolford House. Two, he had come in through the window to take her. She screamed as loudly as she could and yanked her arm away from the stranger.

  He only laughed, a cold sound that sent a chill down her spine. “Do you think he’ll come, ma petite? I will kill him for you then, shall I?”

  “No!” She did not think. With desperation born of love and foolishness she groped for the poker and swung it wildly at her attacker.

  He easily dodged her and gripped her forearm. “I’ll soon break that spirit. You’ll be on your knees as you should have been months ago before I’m finished with you.”

  The door to her bedroom shattered, splinters flying across the room so far that Sarah felt them pummel her nightgown. Perry’s roar was inhuman. His eyes shone in the darkness like some strange ghostly apparition.

  In a flurry of fur and claws he plowed into the stranger and they slammed into the wall with a bang. Candles lit the room as Madam de Laval and Mr. Asher appeared in her doorway. By the dim light of their candles, Sarah could see two shadowy figures, both beasts, both with wicked claws and long teeth, ferociously tearing at each other.

  Two wolves.

  One was dearly recognizable, with an obscured tuft of white fur at his neck that differentiated him from any other. The other was black, sleek, wiry and wholly unfamiliar.

  She had a glimpse of teeth, then Perry was flung into the air, across the room and hit the other wall with a sickening thud. “Perry,” she screamed, and sprinted for him.

  The black wolf’s claws tore at her shoulder, scratching her, blood oozing from the small wound she barely felt because she needed to be by the man she loved. But the blood from that scratch roused Perry as her scream had not. An inhuman growl from him made her heart stop with fear and he flew across the room, attacking the black wolf again.

  Sarah was tossed to the side and ran into the foot of the bed. Mr. Asher rushed in and dragged her by the arm. “Come away, Mrs. Arundale!”

  The two beasts plunged through the window with a crash. Sarah watched helplessly as Perry was flung over the edge of the precipice, hanging on by his slippery claws. His adversary had managed
to remain upright, crouched in the frame, looming over Perry. The black wolf raised his claws to strike but a loud bang stopped him mid-swipe.

  Madame de Laval calmly began to reload the pistol she’d just aimed at the black beast. The strange wolf glared at them, his body outlined in the window. It was difficult to see if he’d been hit but he turned and sprang from the window onto a tree branch close to the house and scrambled to the ground.

  In an instant he was gone.

  Perry managed to heave himself back into the bedroom and Sarah rushed to him. “Are you hurt?”

  He shook her off. “No. Leave it.”

  Madame de Laval sighed. “You’ll have to use the bedroom in the next wing. This rain will make this whole part of the house cold and damp.”

  Perry rose to his hind feet and pulled Sarah closer, the sharp tips of his claws barely digging into her flesh. She thought he was going to comfort her. Instead he yanked down the material of her nightgown to expose the wound on her shoulder.

  She jerked away from him. “It’s not bleeding. It is just a scratch.”

  “It should never have happened.” He remained in his wolf form, his nose a snout, his eyes that eerie blue, his fur sleek and soft, his talons sharp. Sarah had seen him in this form but it was odd to see him standing like a man with the shape of a wolf.

  As they followed Madame de Laval to a different part of the house she wondered why he didn’t change back. He gripped her arm and walked upright but remained the dangerous beast that had fought the enemy. His haunches were muscular and his tail stiff. Hair covered him from his head to his deadly clawed feet.

  Madame de Laval turned and handed Sarah her candle. “Mr. Asher will see me to my room.” The man appeared from the shadows and startled Sarah but not Perry. He’d known the other man was there.

  Sarah took the candle and tried to steady her trembling hands. “The damage—”

  “Is nothing,” Madame de Laval said firmly. “I shall have your clothes sent to you in the morning, Perry.”

  It was strange to see the beast bow, a civilized action from a wild animal. Perry moved Sarah into the bedroom, his clawed grip never loosening, the pads of his paw rough against her skin. “Goodnight, Madam. Thank you.”