He had long since grown accustomed to being discarded by those he cared about. His father did not want him, for obvious reasons, and his mother could barely stand to look at him. Knowing what he did of his past, he wondered how much he looked like the man who sired him. So many worries swirled in his head, that he felt nauseated as he sat and waited.
After what seemed like days, though in truth it had been less than a couple of hours, Cooper finally walked into Wolf’s study. With his shirt tail untucked and his bow tie dangling around his neck, he appeared the epitome of a lord who’d been out rabble-rousing all night.
Wolf was on his feet in an instant. “Where did they take her?”
“Seven Dials. It took a while to walk out far enough so I could hail a cab.”
Cooper sank into a nearby chair and picked up a partially filled tumbler of spirits someone had abandoned on a side table.
Wolf tried to be patient with his friend, but it was killing him to stand there while Julia was in danger. “Address?”
Cooper nodded and rose once more. “Let’s go.”
The six of them departed in two carriages, so they would have room for Jules when they returned. And they would bring her home. What happened after that, though, was anybody’s guess.
Chapter 29
Julia had no idea where she was, though it was quite obvious she was still in London, mostly because they hadn’t driven long enough for the scenery to change from city to country. But she was not foolish enough to believe that just because she was still in the city, she would necessarily be found. London was a large city with a maze of back alleys and city streets that a person could easily become lost in.
Wolf was dead as far as she knew, so even if there was someone who cared enough to look for her, they would have no way of tracking her down quickly or easily. Just in case, she knew her job was to find as many ways as she could to make herself discoverable, while holding off whatever outcome the man pulling everyone’s strings intended. Of course, she had her suspicions on who that man was, but she saw no value in sharing her suspicions with her captors.
Not that they had stuck around to chat.
They had arrived at their current location in the dead of night. Then she’d been dragged upstairs to an attic room, pushed inside, and the door had been promptly locked behind her. Being an attic, it had a musty smell that seemed to permeate everything. What all that entailed she couldn’t tell, since the space was pitch black, and she did not have the benefit of light beyond the shimmer of moonlight peeping in.
Deciding to avail herself of the little bit of light offered by the moon, she shuffled over to the small, high window near the roofline and huddled below it. It was the only area she could clearly see that was unoccupied, either by boxes or other, more livelier occupants.
As she sat on the floor, she tried to focus on the present and not think about Wolf or his demise. If she did that, she’d cease being functional, and be of absolutely no use to anyone. So she ignored the heavy weight pressing on her chest and tried to close her eyes for a few minutes. Perhaps with a bit of rest she would have a different outlook in the morning. To her dismay, the scrabbling noises of her “roommates” made it impossible to sleep, which left her mostly awake as the first rays of dawn pierced her tiny window.
Fortunately, that also meant that she heard the footsteps on the stairs long before the door opened.
A woman entered bearing a tray of food, as one of the villains from earlier stood in the doorway. The woman looked dispassionate as she set the tray down on a nearby chair. “I suggest you eat this before the rats get to it.”
Feeling mulish and angry once more, Julia glared at the woman. Her hair hung lank around her sallow face, and her brown eyes appeared dull and flat, with poor nutrition and fatigue, but to Julia, none of that excused her participation in this outrageous act.
The woman shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Then she and the glaring man left, and the lock was turned in the door once more. Angry, but not stupid, Julia realized she would need her strength for whatever lay ahead. Scooting closer to the tray, she grimaced at the crust of two-day-old bread and bowl of watery gruel. With a sigh, she set about eating the meager sustenance and reminded herself that she had curves to spare. A reduction in food quantity, as well as quality, would not hurt her in the short term.
Shoveling the fare into her mouth, her mind wandered once more to Wolf. Her heart ached once more as she thought of his death. Sitting there, she forced herself to survive, praying to whatever deity might be listening. Please, let me live. Don’t let him die in vain. A tear slipped down her cheek. He was a good man who deserved to live and find happiness. I love him so much… If only I’d had the sense to tell him…
No longer able to eat, she set her food aside and curled up on her side. It seemed unfair that she should only now accept how much she loved him, just when she’d lost him. Crying softly into her arms, she huddled there in her misery.
Sometime later, more steps sounded on the stairs. Julia had lost track of time, though the sun still seemed weak, as though it were morning. Assuming it was the woman returning for the crockery, she barely looked up when the door swung open.
“My, my… How the haughty have been brought down a peg or two,” Wallthorpe remarked, sneering at her from across the room.
Fury sparked to life within her, as though someone had lit a match near a gas lamp. The anger sizzled and popped in her veins, zipping along her limbs until she felt she could barrel right through the vile little man who believed he’d won. “You will never succeed.”
“But I already have, Julia. You don’t mind if I drop all the formality, do you? After all, with your husband so neatly dispatched last night, the way is now clear for me to marry the grieving widow.”
“Never.”
She spat the word at him and turned away, as though she couldn’t be bothered with entertaining him.
Then a hand sank into her hair and jerked her head back until she looked up into an all-too-familiar pair of dark eyes that held a malicious glint. Like a specter from her past, the burning gaze of her dead husband seared into her miserable soul.
“That debauched bastard is finally dead—as he should have been years ago. Now there is nothing keeping us apart. You’re all mine Julia. Mine.”
The last word came out a snarl as he slammed his lips down on hers.
Repulsed by everything the man said and was, she waited for him to jam his tongue into her mouth, and then she bit down. Hard. The coppery tang of blood satisfied a little of the rage that burned within, but her victory was short lived.
“Bith!” Wallthorpe drew back and backhanded her across the cheek with a brutal force that whipped her head around.
Pain burst through her face for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. With a cry of outrage, she sprang at him, her fingers curled into claws as she reached for his face. The evil man deserved to look as hideous on the outside as he was on the inside. When her nails found flesh, she dug in and then raked her arms in a downward motion.
Wallthorpe slapped her hands aside, but left her free to try and run as he pressed his hands to his bleeding face. With fierce determination, she picked up her ragged skirts and shouldered him out of the way as she ran toward the door, ignoring the searing pain in her ankle as freedom teased her from the other side of the door.
Just as she was about to throw the portal open, a hand snagged her dress and yanked her back into the attic room. Wallthorpe had abandoned his scratched face in favor of keeping her contained in the attic. He then wrapped a hand around her wrist and dragged her toward a tattered old mattress she hadn’t seen tucked in the corner.
With a strength she’d never have credited him with, he threw her on the pallet and crashed down on top of her, pinning her with his hips and legs. Fear choked the breath from her lungs as she realized his intent. With her wrist once again manacled by him, there was little she could do to fight him off. Free to do as he wished, h
e reached down and ripped the front of her bodice until her corset was exposed.
“Bloody undergarments are a fucking nuisance,” he cursed, and then shifted tactics.
His free hand reached down and yanked on her skirts, hauling them free of both their legs. Desperate to escape as her nightmare became a reality, she attempted to jam her knee up into his family jewels with no success. He was too close for her to do more than bruise her own thigh.
With a shriek of fury, she balled up her free hand and swung at his face. To her surprise, she connected with his cheekbone, though her blow did little more than infuriate him further.
“You stupid little hellcat. I bet you killed my father that night! He probably keeled over with a heart attack, from fighting you as he tried to fuck you.”
The thin gruel she’d eaten curdled in her belly as she remembered the night her first husband had died. The apoplectic anger that had washed over his face as he raised his arm to beat her with the riding crop he’d held high. And Julia realized that his son shared the exact same look as he loomed over her prone body.
For the first time, she considered she might not survive what was to come.
Wolf stood outside the ramshackle building in Seven Dials as dawn forced the night back where it had come from. Linc, Flint, and Arthur were making their way around the back of the building, while he, Cooper, and Stone waited in the front.
Then a feminine shriek pierced the morning stillness, and his barely harnessed agitation snapped free of its reins. With a growl, he unleashed his rage and kicked the door in. As he barreled into the rickety house, he slammed into one of the thugs he’d grappled with the night before. He punched the man square in the jaw, sending him reeling into the wall. Then he turned and made for the stairs, as Stone and Cooper swept in behind him to clean up the riffraff.
Fear and fury propelled him up the stairs, where he met the man who’d shot him. With a low growl, he powered into him, causing him to stumble backward on the stairs. More of a match for him, the thug landed a solid punch to Wolf’s gut that took the wind out of his sails a bit. Gasping for breath, he threw himself down on top of the shooter. As they wrestled on the stairs, thuds came from behind them. The next thing he knew, Flint had pulled him off the brute.
“Stop wasting time with the hired help. Get the hell upstairs.”
Then Flint reached up, grabbed the thug, and jerked him forward until he fell down the stairs. With his path cleared, Wolf continued up until he came to a door that sat ajar. The unmistakable sounds of a struggle sounded from inside as he pushed the entry open.
What he saw nearly undid him. Wallthorpe had Julia pinned to a putrid excuse for a mattress as he tried to rape her.
With a roar that was as animalistic as a jungle cat’s, he lurched forward and ripped the bastard from her body. Wallthorpe stumbled backward against a wall. Wolf’s gaze swept over the weasel as he noted his pants remained fastened.
Relief swamped him. He hadn’t been too late. And yet, despite the balm that the knowledge brought, it was not enough to calm his rage. Wallthorpe had to pay. He had to pay for his sins and his father’s, since Wolf would never have the opportunity to right that earlier wrong. He’d not have considered punishing the son for the father’s behavior had he not proven to be as bad, if not worse.
“You rotten bastard. I’ll kill you for this.”
Wallthorpe paled, but did not cower. “Not if I finally kill you, once and for all.”
Then the man pulled a knife from some hidden sheath and brandished the weapon.
Wolf grinned. The stubby weapon required close contact, and Wallthorpe wouldn’t be holding it for long.
With a cry of anger, Wallthorpe launched himself at Wolf. Prepared for the attack, Wolf easily batted the weaker man aside. Again, Wallthorpe ran at him. Again, Wolf socked the man and sent him reeling. With each attempt, Wallthorpe grew weaker, and more tired. Eventually his adrenaline would desert him, and then Wolf would take the knife from him and gut the conniving bastard.
Once more, Wallthorpe ran at him, and this time Wolf grabbed him, swung him around, and slammed him into the wall. The exhausted man ricocheted off of it and landed facedown on his stomach, with one arm awkwardly twisted beneath him. Disgusted with the weak showing, Wolf took a step near him, intending to pick him up off the ground and punch him again.
But then he noticed the growing pool of blood that had formed on the floor. Somehow the fool had fallen on his own weapon.
Using the toe of his boot, Wolf nudged the body and found him unresponsive. A soft whimper behind him reminded him that Jules was also still in the room. With a silent curse, he spun around and found her curled into a ball on the sorry excuse for a mattress, holding her bodice up as tears streaked down her filthy face.
His heart shattered as he took in the broken picture before him. Wide green eyes stared at him and drank him in, as though he might disappear at any moment. He dropped to his knees on the pallet, scared to touch her, but desperate to, all at the same time. Her whole body shuddered, racked by a sob as she reached out toward him. Then her trembling fingers made contact with his face, and suddenly she launched herself into his arms.
Chapter 30
He is alive!
Her heart thundered in her chest as her fingers collided with his skin and confirmed that he was real, and not a figment of her overwrought imagination. She’d launched herself into his arms because she’d thought she would never have that chance again. Tears streamed down her face, uncontrolled, from a mix of joy, solace, and love.
Wolf clutched her against his heaving chest, as safety and warmth chased away all her fears. Then his chest rumbled as he spoke. It took her a moment to tamp down her sobs so she could understand him, but by the time she did, he’d said the most important words.
“…I love you.”
After experiencing a brief glimpse of life without Wolf in it, she was no longer willing to live in fear or worry that she might lose him. Rising up on her knees so she could look him in his eyes, she cupped his sharply carved cheekbones in her hands and locked her gaze with his. “I love you, Grayson Powell, Viscount Wolfington, and I never want to live without you ever again.”
In that moment, she watched his fear and sorrow be replaced by all the feelings that currently overwhelmed her. Then he captured her lips with his and seared her very soul with a kiss. Eventually their heartbeats slowed until they fell into sync. All the while, they tasted and touched each other, savoring the knowledge that not only were they both alive, but they were in love.
At some point the authorities arrived, a blanket was procured to cover Julia, and questions were answered. After nearly an hour of such treatment, Wolf put a stop to the interrogation. In a few days, the officer in charge of the newly opened investigation could come by to speak with them both. For now, she was just grateful when Wolf swept her up into his arms, carried her to his carriage, and took her home.
That night, having soaked in a bath, she ate a hearty meal shared with her husband when he refused to allow her to come downstairs. Later, she lay next to him in bed unable to sleep. She could hear him breathing, light and shallow, but not the deep, sonorous tones of sleep.
“Thank you for rescuing me.”
He rolled onto his side. “You have nothing to thank me for. It was my arrogant assumption that you were safe with me that allowed this to happen in the first place. I figured that after the failed attack in the gardens, and our subsequent wedding, Wallthorpe would give up. I greatly underestimated him, and as a result, you were taken.”
Flags of red colored his cheeks as he spoke. It was obvious he felt responsible, but she refused to allow him to bear that responsibility alone. “I was just as sure as you were that I was safe. Once we’d married, it never crossed my mind that either of us might be in danger. Who expects to be abducted once they are no longer viable to be coerced into marriage?”
“Regardless, it was my responsibility to protect you, and once again, I failed you.�
�� He looked down at the mattress for a moment. “If you wanted to divorce me, now that the threat is over, I would understand.”
Julia’s heart squeezed, a sharp pain slamming through her chest. She sat up, shifting to her knees. “Are you saying you don’t want me?”
He sat up, and looked at her from beneath his long blond lashes. They should have been feminine, but somehow, they weren’t. They merely softened all his hard edges.
“I’m saying that I would understand if you didn’t want me.”
She frowned at him. “Do you remember what I said to you this morning, after you rescued me?”
He looked up at her, his eyes glowing a golden brown. “I remember every word. I shall never forget hearing you say you love me. But it was a moment fraught with emotion. You’d just been rescued from a life-threatening situation and discovered I was alive. I shall not hold you to that declaration, now that things have calmed down and you are no longer so caught up in the moment.”
Dismay and anger flared to life within her. “Caught up in the moment?” She leapt from the bed. “You cannot be serious! You cannot mean to say that you think I said that in a moment of gratefulness?”
Wolf looked cautious, wary even. “Not gratefulness, exactly, but caught up in the emotions of being saved.”
“Why, you insufferable jackass! How dare you assume I would toss my love at you like some trinket for saving me?”
She started pacing the room, mumbling to herself about fool-headed men and their inability to reason effectively. She’d never been so angry and insulted in her life. She’d just told the man she loved him, and he assumed that she had lost all her wits.
“Jules.” He had climbed from the bed, and now stood wearing just his nightshirt, his hairy legs exposed by the short garment. “Jules, listen to me.”
“I’ve heard enough. Now you listen to me, and listen well, Lord Wolfington.” She spun on him and crowded into his space. Then she poked her long, thin finger into his chest. “I. Love. You.” She punctuated each word with a poke, causing him to step back toward the bed. “I would love you if you had died. I would love you if you hadn’t saved me.” She took more steps toward him, driving him back further. “I would love you if you were plain old Grayson Powell. I would love you if you had no arms. I would love you if you had no legs.” She poked him one last time, and he finally collapsed back onto the bed. “I would love you if your spectacular cock ceased to work.”
His Scandalous Viscountess (Lustful Lords Series Book 3) Page 23
