But if she took Jeremy, he’d never admit anything.
Still fighting between good sense and desperation, Lil traversed the long path to Ian’s tower door. She knocked. Waited. And knocked again.
Finally his voice came, strained, hoarse. “Go away, Lil.”
“Ian, we have to face this together. If you come out now, maybe tonight it won’t be so bad.”
“It’s never been this bad. Especially by daylight. I can’t answer for what I might do if you come in. Stay away!”
Dear heaven, had he transformed again? She rapped harder on the door, and finally his voice came again, but if she hadn’t known Ian spoke, she wouldn’t have recognized it. So quiet and desolate. A wolf’s lament in a man’s defeated intonation. “I am weary of fighting. I am weary of feeling. I’m even weary of thinking. I only want to….be. In whatever form God decides, for my fate is no longer in my hands. It’s too late for us, Lil.”
Tears sprang to Lil’s eyes. It was as if the wolf sapped all the energy and fire from the man. Like an incubus that beguiled with a beauty hideous beneath the allure. Despair almost took Lil, too, but she cleared her throat and said, “If you truly believe that, then all is lost.” She waited, but silence prevailed on the other side. “I…have an errand to run. I’ll see you tonight at the Druid ruins. Promise me you’ll be there.”
Still no answer. Trembling, she stared at that stubborn portal, and then she turned on her heel and tromped downstairs. Very well, if he was so determined to do this alone, then so would she. He’d left her no other choice. She was going to find the cure, whether he willed it or not.
He wanted a mate to protect his back, not stand behind him, didn’t he?
Some hours later, when that rosy hue that presages dusk colored the sky, Safira ran downstairs, panic-stricken. “The mistress! She’s gone….HELP!” And then she lost herself in the musical rhythm of her native tongue, heedless of the shocked stare from the butler that her heathen utterances should resound in his domain.
It wasn’t until they fetched Jeremy from the stables that she finally calmed enough to say, her words still disjointed, “She said….she wished to take a nap. Rest….tonight. But when I went in to set her clothes out….noticed the lump in the bed was in the same position. I moved it, and…” She swallowed harshly, leaning back in the chair they’d pushed forward for her. “This is very bad. She has gone to him. The rich one who is so poor in spirit.”
Jeremy bit off an oath more intelligible to the butler, but no less shocking. “That’s canned it.” Jeremy glared at a footman. “You there. Go to the village and fetch the sheriff and as many men as he can collect. Tell them to meet us at the Harbaugh estate.”
Gentling his tone, he turned his gaze upon Safira. “Me dusky beauty, calm yourself. How long has she been gone?”
Safira mumbled something in Haitian, caught herself. “Three hours. At least.”
Jeremy exchanged a grim glance with the butler. “Just in case the sheriff don’t bother hisself, ye’d best arm what men can shoot and be ready to go with me in a trice.” He went belowstairs to fetch his weapons.
The housekeeper rang every bell in the mansion, and soon more servants crowded into the foyer. The butler clapped for silence and explained what had happened. A few of the men knew how to shoot, and they stepped forward readily. Even a few who didn’t joined them, but several dour servants cast resentful glances up the stairs, toward the tower.
One grizzled footman who’d been a family retainer long enough to speak his mind folded his arms over his chest. “Why should we risk our lives chasing after a mistress who’s so busy cleaning someone else’s house she cannot look to her own?”
Several fervent ‘ayes’ came from other quarters. More sneaky glances toward the tower.
Emboldened, the footman added, “Let her baseborn lover do the dirty work. He’s more fit for it than any of us.”
The butler scowled and opened his mouth but a cool voice came from the front door. “The only disgrace upon the Haskell name comes from ungrateful wretches like you.” Shelly strode inside, her eyes snapping with anger as she’d obviously been listening for some time. “You wouldn’t have a job if she hadn’t risked her life to stay here. This is how you repay her?”
The footman glared at her. Jeremy came back upstairs, bristling with weapons, but he stopped, glancing between the combatants.
The butler moved between Shelly and the footman. “I can handle this, Miss Holmes.” He looked back at the footman. “You, sir, are discharged. As for the rest of you, I cannot make you go to the aid a newcomer, a stranger, true, but who has tried to deal more than fairly with all of us. The Hall has not been in such good shape in years. The mine has a new pump, the school your children attend has new desks and was recently painted. Myself, I believe that if Miss Haskell says the Harbaughs are somehow involved in these deaths, then they must be investigated. And since she has not returned after visiting them, as her employees we have the right to look for her.”
A couple of tentative cheers answered him, and then a more enthusiastic one that echoed to the rafters. There was a surge toward the door.
Protectively, Jeremy moved next to Shelly. He whispered, “Didn’t know the stiff-rumped jackanapes had it in him, stab me if else.”
Shelly gave him a wry glance. “I shall hope that won’t be necessary. Come along.”
In the tower, Ian heard the ringing bells, the raised voices. He tried to ignore the noise, so focused on fighting the need building in him to burst free of this stifling room and this stifling life that he didn’t debate the reason.
He sat, back turned away from the darkened shutters, sweat dripping from every pore, and tried not to think about the damp earth beneath his paws, the swift rush of wind carrying the scents of freedom, even the joy of chasing down a rabbit. Only one thing kept him imprisoned in this room, only one image gave him strength to fight the madness that seemed, with every indulgence, his only sanity.
Lil. Arms upheld, lips sultry, legs spread to welcome him. One of the wealthiest women in Cornwall giving herself to him to show him what he’d be missing if he stayed a wolf. And if she hadn’t done that, risked her safety and her dignity upon the hard cave floor, he knew that he wouldn’t be having this battle now.
The lycanthropy would have won. If he could defeat this terrible sickness now, when the moon was at its zenith and temptation had never been greater, perhaps he could learn to live with the malady even if he couldn’t conquer it. For Lil, he told himself over and over, the words a benediction that soothed him as much as a church’s quiet sanctity. But with the thought came the next, a natural extension of his own love.
Did she love him? If she didn’t, her sexual fascination went beyond fixation to obsession. And yet, she wouldn’t say the words. She was a proud woman, he tried to tell himself. Why should she admit she loved him when he talked of leaving her forever? Yet on the hope of her love teetered the fate of the Haskells and the Griffiths. Without it, they were both doomed.
Images flickered in his tormented brain, the man’s love for the woman mixed up with the wolf’s urge to secure territory and win his mate. The need to transform grew greater as the rosy glow outside the shutters began its twilight meandering to gray. Ian bit his own tongue, biting back the urge to scream for Lil, but the trickle of blood in his mouth tasted so sweet….
The scream came despite his best efforts. He blinked sweat from his eyes, shocked at his own lack of control. And then it penetrated. It wasn’t a scream, but a cheer from many different voices. Down below, in the gravel drive, his acute senses heard the clomp of feet.
Horses being saddled. Carriages creaking as they were encumbered with more weight than they were designed to take. It sounded as if every servant in the mansion had decided to go on an outing when the entire village knew the worst night to wander about was the night of the full moon.
Which meant….Ian surged to his feet and ran to the shutter. Taking a deep breath, he flung the shutte
r open. Shelly and Jeremy, in one carriage, led the Haskell servants down the drive toward the gate. And beneath the brassy sunset that was even now ceding to the night, Ian saw the glint of many weapons.
Truth hit him like a blow to the stomach. Lil. Lil had gone to Thomas to try to force the truth of the curse from him. Ian released his pent-up breath. With it, went his resistance. Lifting his face to the moon rising with a death-mask grin over the horizon, Ian let the madness take him.
Lil awakened, groggy, afraid, and alone, on a fresh, new mattress wasted in this tiny hovel. Why was the feather bed covered in luxurious linens accenting the rusty, iron bedstead her wrists were tied to? Lil shoved back with her hips and was able to lever herself upright, looking around what appeared to be a deserted hunter’s cabin.
One room. Cold, tiny hearth. A battered cupboard against one wall. Filled with fresh delicacies like cream, and scones, and jam, and expensive brandy and French cheese, even a tin of caviar on ice. The oddity of the expensive victuals in this hut was not lost on her. As she watched, a rat ran across the floor, whiskers twitching, and bolted into a hole.
Lil knew exactly how it felt, except she was angry, too, at herself. Why had she believed Preston so harmless?
She took deep, calming breaths, and gradually, the buzzing in her ears quieted. She tried to collect her scattered wits. The last thing she remembered….
She’d arrived in full daylight at the Harbaugh estate, glad to see it filled with busy servants. The butler offered to take her cloak in the warm day, but Lil smiled and shook her head. “I’ve been rather chilled of late. Would you give his lordship my card?”
The butler bowed and ushered her into a sitting area full of light. Her back to the light so she’d have the advantage of seeing her enemy clearly and her own expression would be in shadow, Lil kept her hand inside her cloak on her father’s pistol. Her precautions seemed absurd given the pomp and splendor of this country estate, but the luxury of the room only made Ian’s danger–and her own fear for him–worse.
If she was going to accuse one of the wealthiest men in the county of lycanthropy, she had to have proof. Blatant proof that even the bluff sheriff couldn’t refute. Lil had stopped in the village on the way here and visited that worthy herself, hinting of interesting goings-on this sunset evening at the Druid ruins.
If the sheriff came, and saw with his own eyes as Thomas transformed under the full moon, and she could somehow save Ian, then her own danger at this moment was little enough cost. All she had to do, Lil decided grimly, alert on the closed door, was bribe if possible, force if need be, the last clue from Thomas. Then she’d lure him to the ruins right around the time of sunset, and….
The door opened. Lil’s held breath left her lungs in a gush when she saw Preston instead of Thomas. She glanced hopefully past him, but the only other entrant was a servant carrying a tea tray. He set the tray before the settee and exited without looking at her.
Preston came forward, his hands outstretched. “Miss Haskell! What an unexpected surprise. Welcome. Thomas is away for the day, but I hope you’ll make do with my company instead. Tea?”
Of necessity, Lil had to take her hand out of pocket to accept his clasp, but she wasn’t frightened of Preston. He was all bluff and very little boldness, unless backed up by his brother. Half brother, she corrected herself. She suffered his polite kiss on her cheek and pulled her hands away as soon as she decently could. “I admit I’m disappointed. I was so looking forward to seeing him.” No one had to teach her the rules of ruthless parlor games.
“One lump, or two?”
With extreme effort, she managed not to make a snide retort, but she couldn’t avoid a covetous glance at his thick skull. Her fingers tightened around the pistol butt, but she only gritted her teeth in a smile. “Three, actually.” Maybe that would help disguise the taste of the dismal stuff. One thing she would simply have to change if she remained in Cornwall. Tea time would offer a new civilized alternative: coffee.
Sniffing suspiciously, Lil hesitated. The tea looked and smelled normal. Thomas she might believe capable of drugging her in his own drawing room. Not Preston. Lil sipped twice, thinking that was all she could bear, and stood. She had a very good idea where Thomas was. Likely already on his way to the stones. For what, she could only contemplate, but whatever it was, did not bode well for Ian.
Or, as it turned out, for her….Though she realized that a split second too late. Her eyes grew unfocused, and a roaring grew in her ears. She caught the edge of a table, but it tilted, and her world tipped on its axis. As she collapsed to the rug, Preston’s face filled her field of vision. Blinking rapidly, Lil tried to get up, but her limbs wouldn’t cooperate. She could only lie there and stare up at Preston’s blatantly false concern. Soon, she was glad to see, she wouldn’t have to look at him. For he seemed to be receding down a dim tunnel.
As he knelt over her, she was too weak to even cringe away as he took the pistol out of her cloak. Her last thought before unconsciousness seized her only added to the nausea caused by whatever foul potion Preston had served. He was more like Thomas than she’d realized. Right down to his detestable smile….
….that taunted her now. He entered the hut, dressed in country attire very different to his formal garb only–Lil glanced at the lowering sun–an hour or so ago. He had her pistol in her belt, and the object she’d intended to use to bribe Thomas rustled as he pulled it from his pocket.
Lil stared at the deed to the tiny parcel of land that the Harbaughs had been trying to purchase from the Griffiths for almost fifty years, according to the butler. It bordered both properties but was a straight path through the moors to the coastal road, instead of the circuitous route the Harbaughs miners had to take to get their ores to the foundry on the coast.
Preston put the deed back in his pocket, patting it. “Thank you, Miss Haskell. Most kind of you.”
“I haven’t signed it yet. Nor shall I.”
“Oh, you shall.” Thomas entered, a fathom plus of walking, talking arrogance. “In a few days, after we’ve gotten to know one another very well, you’ll admit that we suit. In every way. Our lands adjoin. You have money. I have a title. You need respectability. I need a strong woman so much more interesting than these simpering misses.”
Lil glanced at the supplies, but somehow, she knew he lied. He’d never be able to hide her so close to the stones when so many people knew that tonight the Griffith legacy would be written in the shadow of the monolith of their ancestors. He was lying. He wanted her dead.
But she played along. “You were setting up your little love nest, were you not? That’s why you weren’t home.”
“Of course. I intended to fetch you myself, shortly before nightfall, but Preston so thoughtfully brought you here to save me the bother.”
The two brothers shared a look of genuine affection. At least, on Preston’s part. He idolized his half brother. Thomas gave him an approving smile and Preston all but rolled over for his belly to be rubbed.
Was he a werewolf, too? No, she didn’t think so. But he was still very much under the sway of the leader of the pack.
Then those acquisitive black eyes turned in her direction. Lil felt his urge to dominate even before he took a step toward her. Instinctively, she began pulling at her bonds. Thomas came closer, closer.
She used her only weapon, one that had proved effective against him before. Her tongue. “Really, I thought better of you. A man of your wealth, breeding and looks having to resort to force? How very…ignoble of you. Perhaps, with the right motivation, I might be swayed. Release me, and after we have a bite to eat–”
“Quite so. I’d rather have my bite first.” Thomas began to remove his clothes as he talked. “The sooner you begin the change, the sooner you shall be fully mine.”
And Lil realized, as he stripped so matter of factly, with no hint of seduction or lust, that her second miscalculation could be even more costly.
Thomas Harbaugh knew how to change
in daylight, too. He undressed not to ravish her as a man.
He undressed to ravish her as a wolf. And begin her sacrifice.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The moors had always called to Ian, even when he was halfway across the world. Now that he’d surrendered to their bleak grandeur, they bestowed upon him a measure of their elemental energy. He was invincible, immortal.
His bounds were so swift, front legs crossing back, that he scarcely felt the giving warmth of his mother soil. The scenery was a blur, and he’d long since veered around the scraggler humans on the road. They were going the wrong direction, anyway. The mate wasn’t at that ugly place where humans dwelled in false splendor. Ian Griffith might be useful another time, but tonight, the wolf didn’t need his human insecurities or weaknesses.
The Wolf of Haskell Hall knew who had taken her. And why.
The other.
Weaker he might be, but nevertheless, the human part of Ian enjoyed the moon glow with a fanciful admiration beyond the grasp of the wild. The wolf loped, but Ian watched, and wondered if this glorious sunset would be the last he’d ever see.
A crimson rim on the western horizon was the only relic of a dying day. Far too feeble to depose the pomp and splendor of the night’s royal court. A midnight velvet cloak stretched to encompass the sky, its majesty deified by the full moon, which glowed like an orb topping the scepter-like tor Ian climbed. Below stretched the palace: the Druid ruins. The strongest wolf would rule it and all the moors, after this night.
Ian sat for a brief moment, his breath scarcely quickened by the long run, and surveyed his surroundings with all his acute senses. At first he saw no movement, heard nothing, even with all his heightened awareness channeled toward saving his mate. Or at least she would be his mate by her own word as well as deed before this night ended.
As if in answer to his vow, voices carried to him, taunting on the dancing wind.
The Wolf of Haskell Hall Page 28
