Beauty and the Wolf

by Marina Myles

  Draven lowered his voice. “He told me that your uncle Morton is not at Fleet’s. In fact, he’s never been sentenced to serve time there.”

  “But that’s what Papa told me.” Confusion clouded Isabella’s eyes.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said in a trembling voice. “What does this mean?”

  “It means that we must be extremely careful about whom we trust from this point on.”

  A droplet spilled down her cheeks and Draven caught it with the tip of his finger. He planted a gentle kiss on her cheek in replacement.

  When Isabella glanced about the bare garden, he followed her stare. “This is the spot where we met the night my mother was poisoned,” he said. “Do you remember that frigid evening?”

  Isabella nodded with nostalgia. “We huddled on this bench and stared up at the moon.”

  He tugged her face toward him. “It was also the night I scared you.”

  “I remember—all too vividly.” She blushed.

  “I will never do that again, Bella.” He raised a hand to the softness of her cheeks. “Your decision to support me makes me very happy. And I want to show you how much. Will you lie with me again?”

  Her expression turned serious. “I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Then come to me after supper. I’ll wait up for you, and the door will be unlocked. And wear nothing beneath your nightgown.”

  She pressed her fingertip to his lips. “Until tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  For Isabella, making the decision to return to Draven hadn’t been difficult. It was as if she’d had no choice.

  She had become devastatingly ill while she was away. She had lain in bed with a raging fever and her thoughts had become hazy, confused. In her weakened state, her courses came and went, confirming that she was not with child.

  When she learned the news, she had mixed feelings. It was true that she’d been desperate to create a family with Draven. But now, of course, they had much to sort out. Until they did, she decided that their lovemaking must still take place under the protection of a sheath.

  Seeing Draven again made her wonder if having a child was actually in her destiny. Maybe God has other plans for me, plans that involve helping him.

  Isabella traveled down the darkened hall and up to the fourth floor. When she arrived in front of Draven’s bedchamber doors, her stomach tightened. She tried the doorknob. It slipped open in her hands and she stepped into the sitting room.

  At first she didn’t see Draven. He must be in bed before a fire. She followed the flickering shadow of the hearth but found the bed empty.

  “Bella.”

  She wheeled around at the sound of his voice.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.” Draven was sitting casually in an overstuffed chair beneath the window. Bare-chested, he sat with one leg dangling freely over the side of the chair, his untied trousers tight against his manhood. As he lounged there in that provocative position, he appeared more sexually potent and delicious-looking than any man she’d ever seen. Isabella’s eyes roamed over his chiseled torso and his massive shoulders. He resembled an ancient carved statue, the most perfect specimen of a human male she’d ever seen. Her heart thundered.

  He waved her closer. “I left the door unlocked as promised. Did you do as I asked? Did you wear nothing beneath your shift?”

  She took a step backward and removed her garment so that he might have his answer.

  He sucked in a breath. “Now take down your hair.”

  In response, she removed a pin from her chignon. In a single tumble, her reddish-brown curls spilled over her shoulders and bounced between her bare breasts.

  Draven gasped. “You’re stunning.”

  Isabella started to speak, but he stopped her by putting one finger to his closed lips.

  “Join me, my sweet.” He extended his arms forward.

  She moved to him. As she clasped his hands, her palms became damp against the heat of his body. Inhaling his musky fragrance, she licked her lips and willed herself to shut out the violence he’d shown her the first time she had shared his bed.

  “You have blossomed into an amazing woman in your time here, my Bella. A woman strong enough to control her own destiny. I want you to pleasure yourself before I take you,” he said hoarsely. “Straddle my thigh and move yourself against it.”

  Trembling, she separated her legs and mounted him. Draven took one of her hands and cradled the back of her neck with the other. He stared at her with smoldering admiration while her mouth hovered above his. Exhaling, his warm breath rose to greet her face and before she knew it, he was catching her lips with fiery kisses—kisses that made it nearly impossible for her to breathe.

  “I dreamt of you every night while you were away,” he rasped as an undeniable urgency exploded between them.

  His tongue darted in and out of Isabella’s mouth, exciting her. Fulfilling her. With his mouth sealed over hers, he traced the outline of her jaw before his touch moved along her bent neck to the shadowed spot between her breasts.

  “Move your cunny in small circles against my leg,” he urged between kisses.

  She had never pleasured herself before and wasn’t sure what to do. Draven shifted his sinewy thigh upward so that she could rotate her sensitive core against its solidness. The friction intensified against her depths, tantalizing and dampening them. She gyrated slowly at first, then faster. In the meantime, Draven continued to catch her mouth with hot kisses. He teased her nipples to a high charge, causing low moans to escape from somewhere deep inside her throat. As the sounds filtered into the air, Draven’s desire flamed.

  “Make yourself come,” he coaxed her.

  Isabella writhed against the strength of his leg while he kneaded her buttocks. Her body began to tremble and she wanted to scream at the dizzying sensation. When her center stopped pulsating, Draven delved his fingers beneath her to gather her wetness. He smiled.

  “Now it’s my turn.” He guided her hand into his breeches. She released his throbbing shaft and this time she knew what to do. She boldly tightened and released her grasp up and down the length of his sex, making it as solid as iron.

  “Are you ready?” he whispered gruffly into her neck.

  “Yes.” She was literally aching for the feel of him inside of her. She stood briefly so that she could tug off his breeches with two firm jerks. He sat and pulled her to him.

  “I want you to use a sheath,” she whispered.

  Disappointment flickered over his face, but he did as she asked. Once he had secured the pigskin over his penis by tying its ribbons, Draven didn’t waste another minute. He grabbed her hips, parted her legs, and urged her body on top of him. While she straddled his shaft slick with want, she gripped the wings of the armchair on either side of his head. Rocking up and down with heightened rapture, her breasts swung before him. Draven gathered them together in one fist. He took them in his mouth and suckled them fiercely until they turned dark.

  Empowerment swelled inside Isabella as she realized she liked being above Draven, claiming the husband many said was mad and unfeeling. She knew him in a way no one else did and she wanted to protect him, love him, and cure him as only a wife could do.

  Reveling in the titillating pressure she’d built up by being above him, her eyes fluttered shut and another moan of ecstasy filled the air. The pressure was so intense that she bit her lip to prevent herself from screeching.

  Draven too, grunted with passion as he buried his face in the crevice between her breasts. He pressed his hands to her hips and kept them captive over his stiffness.

  There! The petals of her core began to pulsate again as he rocked his hips upward. The rhythm escalated and the vibration seemed to last forever. Draven came too. His body shuddered before he withdrew from her. But an instant later, his pleasurable expression vanished.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Bloody hell,” h
e cried. “The sheath broke!”

  Isabella flew into a panic. “My God—”

  “I . . . don’t know what to say.” Draven avoided her gaze.

  Putting a trembling hand over her mouth, she broke down.

  “Please don’t cry.” He took her hands in his.

  She slumped against him, sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Shhh.” He tried to comfort her by stroking her hair. “Isabella, please don’t despair. Everything will be fine.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can’t tell the future, but I know how I feel at the moment. You are a ray of sunshine that slices through my world of darkness. Not only have you saved me from my solitary existence, but you’ve shown me that there were things about me—even before I was struck with this curse—that needed changing. And I can never thank you enough. You are an extraordinary person through and through, and when we have a child, that child can be nothing but good as well.”

  Isabella forced a lump down her throat. “I never believed in curses, until I met you. What if I give birth to a boy, a boy born with your hideous curse?”

  Draven looked at Isabella and his heart raced. Her pink cheeks glowed like an enchanting Christmas candle and her auburn hair shone like flowing nectar. She was beyond beautiful, yet her eyes housed a silent torment. He loved her more than anything, but he knew he was putting her through hell.

  He’d known about Tousret’s curse and had been selfish to marry her in the first place. But no more. An epiphany erupted inside him and suddenly he knew what it meant to be compassionate. To be selfless. To love unconditionally. He must love someone else more than he loved himself. And that person was Isabella.

  Pulling on his breeches, Draven directed her to sit on the edge of the bed. While she tugged on her nightgown, his stomach clenched. He was going to have to tell her that she was in danger here and he must send her away. “Bella, this is the last time we will be together for a while.”

  She frowned as his words came out in a rush. “What did you say?”

  “My next request may appear to have come out of nowhere, but I hope it’s something you’ll agree to.”

  “A request? Agree to?” she echoed. “I don’t understand.”

  “Hear me out,” Draven pleaded. “You must leave this place.”

  “Leave? What are you talking about? We just made love—”

  “Try and understand.”

  “If you are worried about me being pregnant, please don’t,” she said. “We will deal with it the best way we know how.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Her eyes widened with confusion.

  “It’s imperative that we part ways,” he repeated.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You owe me a better explanation than that, Draven.”

  “This place holds nothing but danger for you,” he said. “You must go somewhere and wait for me. Until I can figure things out more clearly.”

  Little does she know that I’ll never come for her because I’ll be dead.

  “Go without you? You’re scaring me.”

  “I don’t mean to scare you.” Leaning in, he gently reached for her hand.

  “But I just came back. Why did you let me return?”

  “I didn’t come to the decision until right now. When I realized the hell I was putting you through.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t buy that explanation. Did something happen while I was away?”

  “No.”

  She wriggled her hand free from his grasp. “It must have. Tell me what happened.”

  He shook his head and turned his gaze toward the fire.

  “After all we’ve been through, I deserve to know,” Isabella insisted.

  She was right. But he must protect her at all costs. “It’s nothing I can speak of. Just promise me you’ll leave this house at once. Resume your governess position, if that is what makes you happy.”

  “You expect me to leave you, but you won’t tell me why?”

  Anger began to pulsate in Draven’s veins. “Damn it, woman!” he growled. “What part of this don’t you understand? If you stay here at Thorncliff Towers, you’ll surely die.”

  Tears continued to flow over Isabella’s cheeks. “You’re just saying that to frighten me away.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  His blood boiled and his hands shook. He was losing control. And though he tried to tear himself away from her, his wrath kept him glued to the bed. Isabella’s eyes filled with fear as he grabbed her elbows roughly and bit down on one of her shoulders. Perhaps that will convince her to leave. She screeched and tried to pull away from him. He hated himself in that moment, just as he hated himself for killing the Gypsy girl.

  Isabella screamed again. She tried to slide past him—which made him grab hold of her more tightly. The action smeared her blood on his hand, but as she wriggled free, Isabella swatted it down before the smell could tempt him. Then she ran from the room.

  In a mad fury, Draven thrust the window open and heaved himself into the frosty night air. To satiate the urge he had to run, he scaled the outer wall of the house and flew across the headland in his human form. And as his pace increased, his heart thudded with the knowledge that his love for Isabella and her love for him were the cruelest curses of all.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Isabella walked along Dunwich’s jagged coastline at the break of dawn.

  Last night she had awakened Gwyneth and Rogers so that they could take her to the town inn. Now, as she pushed her feet along the sand, nausea knotted her stomach. She was fixated on the fact that Draven had made passionate love to her before his personality had taken a violent shift.

  She strolled along in a daze, a shell of her former self. She felt as if her soul had left her body and she had no more tears left. Two years ago, she had arrived at Thorncliff Towers brimming with every bride’s expectations of romance. Later that day, Draven had caused her to flee in terror. It had taken all of Isabella’s courage to return to him and when she did, she had discovered all of his darkest secrets.

  Despite those secrets and in light of Draven’s violence, she’d fallen madly in love with him. Now he was sending her far away—possibly forever. It was enough to drive a woman mad.

  Weighted against the forceful wind blowing in her direction, she gathered the lapels of her overcoat to her neck. She had sanitized and bandaged the bite Draven had taken out of her shoulder, but the wound was still incredibly painful.

  Glancing over her shoulder at her footsteps in the sand, Isabella knew that none of her husband’s actions made sense. She wanted to find out whether Draven meant to protect her—or be rid of her—but she didn’t know how.

  Wondering about the time, she climbed up the embankment and joined Gwyneth who had been waiting for her. The abigail glanced at the small pin-watch attached to her jacket. “Shall we get a cup a’ tea, yer ladyship? We have more than an hour before the next post chaise leaves for London.”

  “You go ahead, Gwyneth. I think I will lie down.”

  “Very well, m’lady.”

  Gwyneth started across the street while Isabella moved in the other direction. A tall, dark-haired gentleman walking ahead of her caught her eye. He was moving at a brisk pace and appeared to be headed toward the edge of town. She strained her eyes to catch a better glimpse of him. With long hair that covered his stand-up collar and broad shoulders that complemented his regal height, he reminded her of Draven. But that was unlikely.

  What would Draven be doing here in the village?

  To her surprise, the man came to an abrupt halt at the edge of town. Standing in front of the dressmaker’s shop, he turned in a circle as if to confirm that no one was watching him.

  It was Draven!

  An intense curiosity spiked within her. Perhaps if she followed her husband, he would provide her with some long-awaited answers.

  Gathering her skirts, she slipped through a g
ate nestled between rows of cottages behind the dressmaker’s shop. The gate led to an open meadow. Dry and brittle, the thirsty winter vegetation crunched beneath Isabella’s boots. Elevating her body by the balls of her feet, she tried to catch sight of Draven’s hat.

  There he is!

  Since he was more than a hundred feet in front of her, she was able to follow him unnoticed. As he approached the ridge of the bordering forest, he disappeared into a wall of trees. She entered the forest several moments behind him, careful not to make a sound. The fir trees stood at attention around her, resembling eerie rows of blank-faced soldiers. She gave a shudder.

  Forcing herself to press on, she became unnerved by the silence. Every so often a bird flitted noisily from tree to tree and the sound stirred her heartbeat.

  Keep Draven in sight. He seemed to know where he was going.

  He came to the edge of a small pond and stopped. Crouching down, Draven examined something by the water’s embankment. It was difficult for Isabella to make out what it was, but once he moved on, she saw it was a wooden cross marking a grave.

  She crept behind him until he reached a clearing in the woods. As soft violin music lofted in and out of ear range, she spied six colorfully painted caravans encircling a roaring fire. Dogs barked while several people dressed in dark clothes and jeweled scarves milled about the area.

  Isabella inched closer. She saw Draven remove his hat and climb a ladder into one of the wagons. Convinced she was hidden well enough beneath the ladder itself, she strained to make out an exchange between her husband and a woman.

  “Why have you come here?” the woman asked in a thin voice.

  “I have come to ask one last time: is there an alternate way of revoking my curse?”

  “No, Lord Winthrop. I told you: our spells are much too powerful to be derailed from their path.”

  Isabella sucked in a breath. Why didn’t Draven say he’d spoken to this Gypsy?

  “You said it is Isabella’s destiny to end my life before she takes her own,” he said with determination. “But I have sent her away.”