The Cursed One (10 page)

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Authors: Ronda Thompson

BOOK: The Cursed One
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His teeth flashed briefly in the darkness when he smiled. “I didn't say it wasn't nice. I merely said it was different.”
“And it's rude of you to even mention it,” she clipped. Amelia was sorely embarrassed that she would seek him out in her sleep and kiss him. Her defenses lowered, such action spoke of an unconscious desire to share intimacy with him, and he was smart enough to realize that.
“Are you warm enough?”
She was warmer than she had been a moment earlier due to her flush of embarrassment. “I'm fine,” she answered.
“Then we should get some sleep. We have a long trek ahead of us tomorrow.”
The conversation had at least distracted her momentarily
from their immediate plight. Amelia wasn't ready to return to the nightmare her life had become. She doubted she would sleep at all once all the worries began to plague her. She really knew nothing about Gabriel Wulf. Nothing but that he was tall, built rather marvelously, and was as handsome as sin. Nothing but that he could seduce a woman with a kiss and just the smell of him.
She supposed he was gallant. Another man might have fled the situation at Collingsworth Manor posthaste and left her and poor Mora to whatever fate befell them. But he had stayed and defended them. Offered his protection. Led them to safety when the house was set afire. They'd seen no smoke or flames in the distance. Gabriel had remarked that it was probably simply a scare tactic to force them out into the open. Which had worked.
Mora's soft snores continued. Amelia wished they would lull her into sleep, but she simply lay there and stared up at the moon directly overhead. The chill found her again and she shivered. Gabriel drew her closer. She didn't pull away. Snuggling closer, Amelia tucked her head beneath his chin. She heard the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear, felt the long length of him pressed against her.
He began to stroke her hair. She hadn't bothered to do more than pull it back after her bath and now she felt certain most of it had come loose. It was soothing, the stroke of his fingers through her hair, and yet it was disturbing, as well. His strange scent enveloped her. She tried to block it out by holding her breath, but that only made catching it harder once she ran out of air.
Slowly, his hand drifted from her hair down her back. Was she supposed to be going to sleep? If his touch was meant to soothe her into relaxing, just the opposite was taking place.
Amelia was aware of his hand on the small of her back. It drifted a little lower and pressed her against him. She swallowed a sudden lump that formed in her throat. They were hip to hip, and she felt the obvious bulge in the front of his trousers.
He groaned a moment later. His hand fell away from her and he rolled onto his back. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. He stared up at the moon. She lay very still, waiting to see if he would touch her again, but he didn't. It was as if he'd regained control over what had possessed him to touch her in the first place. A pity, Amelia thought.
Deep down in her wicked soul, she was hoping he'd kiss her again. Maybe hoping to prove to him that she did not lack passion in the least. She had to wonder, since she'd been sleepwalking and had no recollection whatsoever of their encounter, how much advantage he had taken of the situation. It would be just her luck that he had despoiled her and she didn't recall it. But no, she was certain that had not happened.
There would have been signs, plus he would have said so had things gone beyond a kiss. And Amelia realized she no longer had reason to hold on to her precious virginity. She was a married woman … a widow now. No one would expect her to be chaste. Or would they?
If no consummation had taken place between her and Robert, would she still be able to claim his holdings? A large portion now being the dowry her father
had settled upon her. Robert had no living relations; she knew that. He'd once remarked that the men in his family didn't seem to live to a ripe old age. Poor Robert, neither had he.
Guilt came close to consuming her. Here she was, lying next to another man and wishing he'd kiss her when Robert had not even been laid to rest. While she did not love her husband of one day, she should show him respect.
And she would, Amelia decided. She would not harbor wicked thoughts of Gabriel Wulf until her mourning period was over. But that was a year and would she even live to see tomorrow? The thought of dying a virgin greatly upset her. Well, actually, the thought of dying altogether greatly upset Amelia. Perhaps she wouldn't have to mourn Robert for a whole year … maybe under certain circumstances a day or two would suffice.
Having fully exhausted her mind, Amelia snuggled up next to Gabriel, wrenching another soft moan from him by doing so, and tried to sleep.
Gabriel nudged Amelia awake. “We need to get moving.”
She groaned, then groaned again when he sat, taking his wonderful body heat. Mora was already awake, staring up at the hole above.
“How do we get up there?” she asked.
“I'll heft you up,” Gabriel answered. “See those roots sticking out of the dirt? Grab onto those and pull yourself the rest of the way to the top.”
Amelia was thankful that Mora was going first. She'd need to watch her and see how she proceeded. The servant nodded and allowed Gabriel to heft her up. It was a good thing both Amelia and Mora were slight of build, Amelia thought. Less strain on Gabriel. She knew his shoulder must still ache, since that wound hadn't had time to heal.
He lifted Mora with little effort. Beneath the sleeves of his now dirty shirt, Amelia saw his muscles bulge. His arms were wonderfully sculpted, she recalled. Everything about him was wonderfully sculpted. Mora strained to reach the roots sticking out of the dirt.
“Test them first,” Gabriel warned. “Be sure they're strong enough to hold your weight.”
The girl did as he instructed. When she got hold of a root that seemed sturdy enough to support her, she latched on and pulled herself up. A moment later the girl scrambled out of the hole. Her head appeared, staring down at them.
“I want you to help Amelia once she's close to the top,” Gabriel called up to Mora.
Amelia figured that she could get out as well as Mora had done. The fact that Gabriel obviously didn't think the same stung her pride. She wasn't helpless, for God's sake. But she did want out of the hole, and pointing out his error would only prolong her current discomfort.
“Your turn, Amelia,” Gabriel said.
She crawled to where he knelt. He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her off the ground. Amelia felt his warm breath against the skin displayed by the neckline of her gown. His face was even with her breasts, and her nipples hardened in response. It was embarrassing. How easily he affected her. Amelia wondered if all women reacted to him the same way. Mora didn't seem affected, but then, Mora was only a girl. Perhaps her woman's emotions hadn't yet developed. Amelia wished hers had not.
“Reach,” Gabriel said, and she noticed that his voice sounded huskier than usual.
Amelia tried. She couldn't. Gabriel's hands moved down to her hips and he lifted her higher. Her fingers managed to grasp two thick roots jutting from the ground.
Mora reached her arms through the hole. Amelia realized she must pull herself up a little to reach the
girl's hands. She also wondered if Mora would be strong enough to help her out.
An attempt to push herself up using her feet against the damp den wall made dirt suddenly crumble in all around her. The hole above began to disappear. Mora yelped and pulled her arms away. Then Amelia fell. Gabriel caught her and in a jumble of arms and legs he rolled them deeper into the den. He was on top of her and Amelia could hardly breathe, but then, she could hardly breathe anyway, the dirt was so thick in the den. And it was dark. Darker than midnight.
Gabriel might be squishing her, but Amelia realized he was also protecting her. Dirt continued to fall from the top of the den, chunks of it pelting Gabriel rather than Amelia. She was terrified of being buried alive. Amelia pressed her face against his neck and squeezed her eyes closed. How long she clung to him she had no idea. It seemed like an eternity before she no longer heard the pelting noise of dirt clots hitting Gabriel's back.
“Are you all right?” he said close to her ear.
“I think so,” she whispered. “Are you?”
“Yes, I'm all right. We need to lie very still until I know nothing else is coming down on top of us.”
Above, they heard Mora call to them. “Don't answer,” Gabriel warned softly. “You could bring more dirt cascading down on us.”
Amelia hated not answering the girl's calls, but what else could she do? And what exactly
were
they going to do? She suspected there wasn't much air trapped in the small den with them. Just the thought sent panic coursing through her.
“You must relax, Amelia,” Gabriel said against her ear. “Breathe slowly.”
Surely he felt her quickly rising chest—her heart pounding. She did need to calm down, but under the circumstances, she didn't see how. “I'll try,” she said. “But I have a problem with small, dark places. My brother once locked me in a dark closet for hours.”
He was silent for a moment; then curiosity obviously got the best of him. “Why did he do that?”
Amelia wasn't careful with her words. “Because he was a mean little bastard who loved playing the worst pranks on everyone. We were playing hide-and-seek at the time.”
Gabriel surprised her by laughing in her ear.
She tensed beneath him. “I don't think anything regarding our current situation is humorous,” she said crossly.
Once he stopped laughing, he said, “No. But I've never met a lady who drank and cursed and did both so well.”
A blush would be appropriate, but Amelia didn't bother to summon one. Wulf couldn't see it anyway. “My brother isn't so mean now,” she admitted. “And I wasn't above pulling a good prank or two.”
“You?” he said drily. “And you look like such an angel.”
Amelia was not an angel. She had a very wicked side. They both might die at any moment and she was still harboring indecent thoughts about Gabriel Wulf. Still wondering things she should not be wondering. Like what it would feel like if they were both naked right now.
“How are we going to get out?” she asked. That was what she should be thinking about.
Slowly, he rolled off of her. He sat, although the den roof was hardly tall enough for him to do so. “I'm going to dig us out,” he answered.
 
Gabriel knew there wasn't much air trapped with them
in the den; he also knew Amelia was on the verge of panic. He had to proceed quickly but carefully, since he wasn't sure how long the roof over them would hold before it came crashing down on them. He slid slowly along the damp, packed dirt of the hollowed-out den to where the dirt had crumbled in on them from the opening. Above, he still saw a portion of light, although the opening was now much smaller than it had been when they had climbed inside last night.
There were no tools he could use to shovel, so he had to use his hands. He set to work. Amelia's growing panic was a palpable force inside the small den. Without anything to distract her, she was reacting to her childhood fear of being locked inside somewhere she couldn't get out. Gabriel thought conversation would keep her distracted, although he wasn't usually a talkative man.
“Tell me more about your family,” he said to Amelia.
He thought she wouldn't answer, that fear had taken over her and robbed her of the ability; then she said, “They are typical. Father and Mother married because they were a good match. They seem content enough with one another. My brother is three years younger than me. I miss them.”
Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. Amelia looked very small and frightened, like a little girl, although he knew for certain that she was not a little girl. He was much too aware of her physically.
“I miss my brothers, as well,” he admitted. “We are closer than most, maybe because for some time now, we're all each other has had.”
Damn, he had never admitted anything so personal to a woman. It was the circumstance, Gabriel assured himself. He had to continue a conversation in order to keep her from panicking and possibly putting them in more danger.
“Well, I never thought it was fair,” she said. “The way society judged your family for something your parents did. The way they always quickly jump to the worst conclusions. Like when that girl was found dead in the stable of your family townhome. Everyone naturally assumed Lord Wulf was responsible.”
Focusing on his slow digging, he said, “We are many things, but we are not murderers.” Then he recalled that he and Armond both had worried that Jackson might be in some way connected to the woman's death. Only because of the timing of the murder and the fact that Jackson had been in London and then later, when another murder occurred, he'd been in London again. Gabriel realized he was wrong to think for one moment Jackson would be tied to hurting a woman. Jackson loved women and they loved him.
“Are you bitter?”
Her question surprised him. And confused him a little. “Bitter about what?”
“Being denied your right to rub elbows with those of
your station? Being forced to live in the shadows of society? I think I would be.”
Gabriel kept digging. Was he bitter? “I've never cared to be part of society. Most of them are silly and shallow. Lazy and conceited. No, I am not bitter.”
She made a huffing noise. “But you are judgmental. You can't judge everyone by the actions and opinions of a few.”
He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Of course I can,” he told her. “Especially when the society you defend are like sheep being herded by dogs. They cannot think for themselves; they have to be told what to believe and what opinion they should have upon every matter and every person.”
“That is not true,” she argued. “I like to think I am my own person, that I am free to form my own opinions. And to express them,” she added. “If you judge all by what you believe about a few, you are just as guilty of being a snob.”
She was opinionated, obviously, and Gabriel found the trait attractive about her. And he supposed she was right and he was judgmental. Perhaps a little jaded. He had thought to put her in a category along with how he assumed most ladies of her station were, but she was in a category by herself. Truth be known, he could not be a proper judge of ladies of her “station” anyway. He'd never spent much time around them. He supposed he was a hypocrite. None of the things he admitted to being was worse than what he truly was. Cursed.
He'd dug his way to the smaller hole, the dirt that had caved in, actually making reaching it less difficult than it normally would have been. Carefully, he began to widen
the hole. It didn't take him long to widen the space enough so that he could climb out. He poked his head out and glanced around. He didn't see Mora anywhere, and luckily, he didn't see any unwanted company.
“Amelia, I am going to crawl out. You come out behind me in case I need to help you.”
Allowing her to go first would be better, but Gabriel knew that climbing back down might start the cave-in all over again.
“I'm frightened,” she whispered. “What if the dirt starts caving in again? I could be trapped here alone.”
“That isn't going to happen,” he assured her, and hoped he was right. “Just be careful when you're climbing out. Try not to rush yourself.”
“Anything to get out of here,” she said, and he was relieved she showed both courage and determination in the face of her fear.
Gabriel shimmied out of the hole. The ground around the opening was unstable at best. It felt heavenly to breathe in air that wasn't coated by dirt. He lay on his stomach, looking down into the hole.
“All right, come on, Amelia,” he instructed. “Nice and slow.”
Below, he saw her appear. She looked up at him, her face a pale oval in the darkness.
“Crawl up on your belly,” he instructed her. “Just move slowly and carefully.”
She started out that way; then, as if her fear had taken hold of her, she crawled so quickly toward the top that the dirt began to crumble around her again. Gabriel lunged forward and grabbed her arm; then he was pulling her out, rolling away from where the
ground began to cave in around them. In a matter of seconds, the den caved in entirely.
Amelia gasped for breath beside him. They both sat and stared at the place that might have become their grave. They were coated with dirt, but they were alive.
“You saved my life,” she whispered. “Again.”
He reached out and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “Let's find Mora.” He rose and extended a hand to help her up.
It was odd, but any time they touched, a strange tingling coursed through him. A current. He helped her to her feet, and together they walked toward the pond. They spotted Mora a moment later, sitting by the water's edge.
She glanced up as they approached. Her eyes widened and she placed a hand against her heart. “I thought the both of you were dead,” she said. “I didn't know what to do. I couldn't go back to Collingsworth Manor.”
“We're all right,” Amelia assured the girl, brushing dirt from the skirts of her serviceable dress. “We couldn't call out for fear it would cause more dirt to cave in upon us.”
Mora looked shamefaced. “I was afraid to stay there because I thought I might fall in with you. I guess I'm a coward.”

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