WitchofArundaleHall (6 page)

“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 Digory 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.

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.”

When he closed the door she turned to light the fire in the
room. Her hands shook and made the task difficult. Perry said nothing. The
silence lay heavy in the room between them.

Finally she started a blaze and rose to her feet. When she
turned he was no longer a beast but the blue shine of his gaze remained in
place. Though he was in control Perry was too close to the transformation. She
swallowed, nervous and aroused at the same time. How was it possible that the
violence had excited her? It was those new feelings, new sensations beneath her
skin that caused it. It had to be.

“Shall I rest in the chair then?” she asked without meeting
his determined gaze.

“No. You will not.” His tone brooked no argument.

“Surely you should have the bed,” she said. “After your
altercation with…with…”

“With the wolf.” Perry stepped closer to her and she backed
away. “He knew you.”

Her courage almost failed her but she made herself look at him.
“He has been to Wolford House. It was a chance meeting.”

“Perhaps.” Perry kept coming toward her and she tried to
slide away from him.

“As I said, I will sleep in the chair tonight. You should
rest easy.” She moved to avoid him but this time he caught her arm with his
hand.

“No. You shall sleep in this bed. With me. And you will not
be resting.” He yanked her closer and she could barely breathe.

“You promised,” she whispered.

“I am breaking my promise.” There was no regret or give in
him. He was implacable.

“You cannot do this,” she pleaded. “It is what Lady North
wants. It is the curse.”

“I do not care.” He wrapped his other arm around her waist
and she stifled a moan of relief. “That wolf came because you are unclaimed. If
I Claim you I will be his target. He cannot have you unless he kills me. I will
plant my seed in you.” His last words were husky and filled with lust.

“Then only death will free us. We will be like Marcus, alone
and in pain.” She tried to shove him away with her hands and her words but he
would not be moved.

“You will be mine.”

“Perry, please. Our children will die.” She struggled
against his hold. “You will hate me.”

“I do not believe that,” Perry said, and took possession of
her mouth.

When he had kissed her days earlier, he had ravaged her
lips, demanding her response. This time he simply overwhelmed her. He broke
away and pinned her to the bed. He extended his claws, a partial change that
shocked her into stillness. With them he ripped away her bedclothes and left
her naked before his needy stare.

Her senses returned enough to try to escape but he captured
her easily and shoved her facedown onto the mattress. “Did you know that a
Claiming can be done if I release my seed in your arse?”

It should have disgusted her. Instead she buried her head in
the linen and tried to hide the telltale blush on her face. Her whole body
heated, remembering how he’d stroked her there, visions of tableaus she’d seen.
She wanted to resist him, to reject this, but her heart longed for his
possession and her body already belonged to him.

“But I am not going to Claim you that way,” he said in a low,
gravely tone. He turned her onto her back and loomed over her, his cock pressed
against her thigh, his face thrust into hers. “I am going to tie you to this
bed and make you come at least three times before I spill my seed in your sweet
cunt.”

Her breath caught in her throat but she managed to snap back,
“I will fight you.”

His smile was slow and wicked. “I hope so.”

She arched her back and heaved against him, hoping to
dislodge him, to throw him off her. Instead it only scraped her nipples against
his chest and caused him to shift his hips to pin her. He used her shredded,
discarded nightgown to tie her to the bed, his movements rough and
uncontrolled.

Now that she was at his mercy she could only hold still,
give him nothing, including a fight that would only arouse them both. Every
touch he tortured her with made her want to tremble but she wouldn’t allow her
body to respond. If she could remain quiet he would think she was cold. No
chance he would believe her indifferent.

“You think to deny me your response?” He bent over her, his
restraints holding her in place, his words sliding through her. “Try. But I am
determined that when the morning light comes through that window, you will know
that you belong to me. And that you do so of your own free will.”

Out of despair Sarah sought to stop him. “By tying me to
this bed you give me no choice.”

He smiled. “You surrendered to me tied before. You and I
will both know, even if you deny it.”

She wanted to shout at him, to scream her denial. But when
he swooped in to take possession of her lips she was lost. Her whimper seemed
to unleash something as wild and untamed as the beast beneath his skin. His
hands roamed her body with a devastating knowledge that crumbled her resistance
and destroyed her resolve. He broke the kiss only to move to her neck, to bite
her sensitive skin there, to leave a mark of his ownership that would fade as
the other Claim never would.

If she had truly wanted to be free of him she might have
cried, been able to hold back her arousal. But she had lied to herself as well
as to him. She wanted no freedom from him. She loved him and wanted his
possession as much as he seemed to need to possess her.

There was nothing left but empty resistance. To surrender
was to admit to him that she was weak and helpless in the face of his desire. That
she could never do. She twisted and wrenched against the restraints. When he
ducked his head closer to nibble on her earlobe, she bit his neck.

It should have discouraged him. Instead it seemed to inflame
him. His fingers found the sensitive nub between her legs and she gasped when
he pressed his thumb against it. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His
mouth devastated her, traveling over her collarbone, the top of her breasts and
finally capturing one of her nipples. When his tongue curled around her raised
flesh, she cried out and arched toward him.

She yanked on the restraints, her need for the biting pain
almost as frantic as the desire for his touch. He continued to stroke her
pussy, sending her spinning into oblivion. The sensation of his skin on hers,
his hot tongue and his wicked fingers, made her heart accelerate until she
wondered if she was going to die reaching for that final pinnacle.

The first time, she’d been overwhelmed by the dominance of
the three men she’d betrayed, her fear of the loss of her innocence swept away
by the intense arousal. But now it was only him, just him. His possession, his
dominance, was the only thing she wanted and the only focus of her addled
brain.

When his fingers slid inside her slick channel, she moaned
and squirmed helplessly. He moved down her body, his mouth branding every inch
of her skin. She was hot, needy, on the edge of insanity that could only be
relieved by his touch.

She opened her eyes, wanting to see him as he kissed her
bellybutton. His dark hair brushed her sensitive skin and his long, beautiful
fingers brushed her thighs. When he raised his head and met her gaze it was as
if lightning struck her. That connection snapped into place and the bonds
between them tightened. Her soul reached out, grasping for him, needing him.

His inhuman growl made her nerves jump, not with fear but
intense desire. She couldn’t touch him or urge him in any way except with her
voice. “Please, Perry. I burn.”

He stroked her inner walls with his fingers, his stare
focused on her face. “You know what to call me,” he said in a guttural tone. “I
am your Master. Say it, Sarah.”

No. She couldn’t. It was as if that were the last line that
kept her anchored in reality. If she acknowledged what he was to her he would
destroy her. She twisted and shifted, trying to escape his knowing hand and his
implacable gaze.

But then he bent down and blew his hot breath over her erect
nub while he stroked her inside with his fingers. She cried out, stars blazing
across her vision. So close. Just one touch of his tongue on her and she’d
unravel. He kept her on edge, another heated kiss on her inner thigh, just to
the right of her aching core.