WitchofArundaleHall (8 page)

As she whirled around to leave the room he rose quickly and
caught her by the arm. “You have no choice in the matter.”

She stood straight and tall, facing him. “You had best make
arrangements to bed elsewhere. I do not want to risk becoming pregnant with an
unwanted child.” It gave her little satisfaction to see him wince but she was
beyond caring.

The bleak expression on his face almost made her relent but
she remained silent. He had never loved her. In some distant future he loved
another, had a child with someone. If he did not like her response, that was no
concern of hers.

But the wrenching in her heart proved the lie of her
thoughts. She loved him still. Would always love him. She still smelled of his
seed, still throbbed from the loving bruises he’d left, but it was all
finished.

“At least you can be assured that the other animal will not
bother you,” he said finally, his voice containing no emotion.

She snorted. “What difference does that make? Him or you or
some other beast, what does it matter? I am from the right bloodline and that’s
all that seems to concern any of you. I might as well fuck him as you.”

It was the wrong thing to say. She had tried to hurt him and
succeeded but even she knew there was a cost. At her vulgar words he whipped
out his hand and grabbed her arm. She struggled uselessly as he yanked her
against him.

He thrust his face into hers. “You will never fuck anyone but
me.”

One thing she’d learned from having older brothers served
her now. She lifted her knee and viciously jammed it into his genitals.

His gasp was followed by his abrupt release of her arm. He
bent over, clearly in pain.

For a moment she wanted to reach out, to apologize. But then
she came to her senses. Instead she gave him a parting shot. “I’ll kill you if
you try to come to my bed. I swear it.”

It felt as if she were burning her own house down, but she
was past hoping for anything. As she left the room she thought destruction was
the only thing she was good at anyway.

As Perry gasped for air, his hands cupping his throbbing
balls, he cursed his stupidity. Out of hurt and frustration he had lashed out
and tried to hurt her back. A blind man could see it pained her to reject him. But
he’d let his pride color his words and only caused more distance between them.

He limped to the bell and called for the butler. When the man
appeared Perry was finally able to stand upright. “Will you ask Jaimison to
meet me in the library?”

Jaimison raised an eyebrow as Perry came into the room
favoring one side to keep from jarring his sore cock. “I take it things with
Sarah went badly.”

Perry snorted. “Worse than I could have believed.”

“You’ve met her brother,” Jaimison pointed out. “My research
showed that the other one is just as bad and married to a jealous woman. She
hasn’t had the easiest life.”

“I don’t blame her for anything, Jaimison.” Perry took a
deep breath. “She’s obsessed with ending the curse and getting as far from me
as possible.”

Jaimison shook his head in sympathy. “Madame has given you
letters of introduction to some connections in Bayeux. It is the only way we
can access the Bayeux Monastery to view the scrolls.” He handed Perry a packet
of papers.

“She believes that any children we have will die,” Perry
said. “But she was told everything about us by Lady North.”

The woman had obviously sent another wolf to attack Sarah. It
was clear that Lady North knew much more about the DeFalk legacy than she had revealed.

“You think she’ll try to stop you in France, don’t you?” Jaimison
had lines on his forehead and around his mouth. The man was worried about
Perry. Did everyone think he was helpless?

Perry nodded. “I do. For some reason Lady North doesn’t want
Sarah to succeed.”

“So that means we do.” Jaimison nodded. “Are you sure you
want me to accompany you?”

“Absolutely.”

“It should be an interesting trip,” Jaimison said with a
smile.

That smile faded, however, when Perry answered, “Yes, with
you minding my very angry wife it certainly shall be worthy of remembrance.”

Three days passed and Perry received little attention from
his wife. She refused to speak to him, using Jaimison as a go-between when she
absolutely had to communicate with him. He couldn’t blame her. The beast
beneath his skin pressed forward, clawing for its mate, desperate for her in a
way that defied sense and decorum.

The cargo ship had been uncomfortable but the trip had been
much shorter than Perry had expected. They arrived in Cherbourg and Jaimison
obtained a carriage and horses for them. The trip to Bayeux was mostly silent. Jaimison
sat next to Sarah, since she acted as if Perry’s touch, however incidental,
burned like the hottest hellfire.

Finally Sarah spoke. “Who is this family Madame de Laval is
connected with?” she asked Jaimison.

Perry, who had had enough of her cold silence, answered her.
“They are the du Bussein family, distant relations of yours as well as hers. Apparently
your great grandfather had a sister who married an Antoine du Bussein.” He
ground his teeth as she continued to stare out the carriage window rather than
acknowledge him. “They have a modest estate outside Bayeux.”

Rather than continue the conversation she sighed and
remained silent. Jaimison shook his head. The rest of the ride was concluded without
interaction. Perry wasn’t going to take much more. She didn’t know where they
were going or where they were lodging for the night.

On the cargo ship he had respected her wishes and remained
in the lower berth with the other men, along with Jaimison. But at an inn where
loose talk would draw unwanted attention Perry had no intention of providing
gossip. He and Sarah would share a room and she would have to accept it.

They reached the inn as the sun began to set, and Jaimison
opened the carriage door. Perry blocked Sarah’s way and said, “Go on and take
our bags. We will follow. Tell them she is sleeping and will come out in due
time.”

Jaimison nodded and shut the carriage door. Perry met
Sarah’s furious gaze. “You will have to modify your behavior if you want to see
the scrolls.”

She glared at him and crossed her arms, refusing to speak to
him. He clenched his fists and continued in what he hoped was a reasonable
tone. “The Bishop of Bayeux is reputed to be a man of high morals and he guards
the scrolls in his keeping with vigilance. If you wish to see them he must
believe that we are what we say we are.”

“What do you mean?” she said sharply.

“Newly wedded. On our honeymoon. Fucking.” He studied her
face and watched the fleeting emotions that flickered in her gaze.

“No.” Her tone was firm.

“Yes.” Perry reached over and gripped her arm. He yanked her
toward him. She had every reason to hate him, to reject him, but Perry wasn’t
rational about her.

Her breath was warm on his face as she snapped at him. “Take
your hands off me.”

Did she think he couldn’t smell her? She wanted him even as
she hated him. “If you wish to end the curse, you have to pretend to be happily
married. To me.”

“Your wits are addled if you think you can manhandle me like
this.” Her words might have convinced him if her breath hadn’t caught and her
lips hadn’t trembled. She glared at him. “I will not play-act for you.”

He cupped her neck and drew her closer. “Good. Don’t.” He
gave her no more opportunity to speak but covered her mouth with his and
reveled in the way she melted under his touch.

The beast within slipped its leash and growled, surging to
the forefront. Perry struggled for control, desperately trying to stop. But the
wolf would not be denied. Without ceremony Perry, under the influence of his
curse, yanked up Sarah’s skirts, ripped her undergarments to expose her sex and
tore open his breeches.

She had no idea the danger she was in and clutched his arms
to keep her steady. In a heartbeat Perry was at the entrance to her pussy,
ready to drive inside her with no regard for her pleasure or her emotions. It
was a near thing and he hung on to his control with a tenuous hold.

Sarah squirmed beneath him, her sweet response tickling his
crown. He groaned. “Hold still,” he demanded.

“Please, Perry,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes. “I know, my love.”

It took a tremendous effort but he managed to drag himself
back. The wolf howled and he moaned from the deprivation.

Gently, as he eased away from her, he kissed her cheeks then
her mouth. He was almost gone from her when she wiggled closer, driving him nearer
to her entrance, now hot and slick. The sensation was too much and he lost his
mind completely.

Frantically he touched her, one hand pushing down the
neckline of her gown, the other twisted in her hair. His kiss, at first a
soothing thing, now demanded the passionate response her cunt had already
given.

She arched her back and thrust against him, a frenetic
rhythm that caught him off guard. Before he could react he was inside her, the
snug walls of her pussy squeezing him.

“Sarah,” he said, his throat hurting from the effort. “Are
you sure you want this?”

In answer to his question she clamped her thighs around his
hips and drove him deeper until his balls slammed against her arse. His release
rushed through him and it was too late to stop. He was vaguely aware that she
screamed as he lost control and released violently in her slick channel.

A fierce satisfaction roared through him. She belonged to
him. Her denial of that fact meant nothing.

He enjoyed that moment briefly. When she finally opened her
eyes the stricken expression robbed him of any good feelings. Before he could
stop her she tore away from him and scrambled to the corner of the carriage.

Tears filled her eyes and her hand covered her mouth. With
desperate movements, she tried to rearrange her skirts and her hair. Then, with
a muffled sob, she stumbled out the carriage door.

Perry still hadn’t moved.

Of course she responded to his brutal demands. After all,
she was descended from the right people, the right family to be with a beast
like him. Who he was did not matter. As she had said, any wolf would do. But
she was ashamed to be with him. When would he learn to accept that this curse
would only destroy him and those in his life?

He shouldn’t have touched her. Though she’d responded to
him, he had taken her like an animal rather than a man. He owed her more than
stolen moments in a carriage. It would take time but he would convince her that
their connection was more important than the curse that inexplicably bound
them.

* * * * *

How could he look so calm? Sarah shot a furtive glance
toward Perry. He spoke to the innkeeper and handed her valise, which she’d
forgotten in her haste, to the footman. Jaimison had already arranged their
rooms. Two of them. And she would be in the one with her husband.

He was right. She had to pretend she was a newly wedded
bride happily in love with her husband. But the act was beyond her. Instead she
stood quietly, hiding in the background, a talent she had learned as
maidservant.

“Yes, we’ve come to visit our distant relations,” Perry said
in a falsely hearty voice. “I’ve heard the Bayeux Monastery is worth seeing as
well.”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Arundale,” the innkeeper said. “The bishop
is a welcoming man, despite rumors to the contrary.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Perry took her arm gently and led her
indoors.

The inn was clean and bright, with windows all along the
southern wall. The stairs were solid and firm, indicating the structure’s
soundness, which was reassuring. Sarah had never been to France and had not
heard much to its credit. Though she’d learned to speak and understand French
she’d never had the occasion to use it.

Now she realized Perry had spoken to the innkeeper as if she
could not speak the language. It irritated her. So much so that when the
footman brought her valise up the stairs Sarah felt the need to show she was
not helpless.

“Please put the valise there,” she said, and pointed to the
chair in the corner.

The man showed no reaction and placed her bag where she
indicated. When he left she met Perry’s amused gaze. “Your French is
impeccable.”

“I was given some advantages,” she said haughtily. What was
wrong with her? She was spoiling for a fight even though she knew that led to
passionate explosions such as the one in the carriage. Maybe because of that. She
pressed her lips together.

Perry towered over her and moved a stray curl of her hair
from her face to behind her ear. She shuddered, unable to control her response
to his touch. “One day, when I take you, I will demand that you speak to me
only in French. I hadn’t thought the language had any merit until I heard you
speak it.”

“You could ask Madame de Laval. It’s her native tongue. She
would not stumble as I do.” She heard the sharp tone of her voice and
despaired. Would she never be able to behave around him?

He touched her lips with his fingers. “I only want your
mouth.”

She backed away, her back flat against the wall. “No. You
can, of course, force me, but I beg you to leave me alone.”

There wasn’t a flicker of amusement in his face. “I don’t
think I can. You have tried to wound me with words, rejected me in every way
possible except for this.” He touched her lips with his. “When I touch you the truth
is revealed.”

She forced herself to remain still. “What truth? That there
is some magic that binds my body to you? That is not me. My body may want you
because it was made to do so, but that is not truth. That is only the curse.”

Her words seemed to stop him. They didn’t hurt him as she’d
hoped. He seemed…curious. “You believe we have nothing in common but this
physical connection?”

For her? No. But she knew him, had observed him for three
years as he was lost in the bottle. He knew nothing about her, about what made
her the way she had become. “I do believe that. If not for this curse and our
ancestors, you would have had nothing to do with me.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Could you have loved me if
not for the curse?”

That was a loaded question and she wasn’t going to answer
it. Not honestly anyway. “I would never have met you.”

The heat from Perry’s body seeped into hers and she longed
to put her arms around his neck and be held in his arms. There was a dangerous
comfort there, an easy shelter that frightened her with its rightness.

For her, he was everything she wanted. He was brave,
empathetic and loving, even when he was in despair. She knew him and loved him,
faults and all.

“I think I understand,” he said, and her thoughts snapped
back to the present. One of his hands cupped her face. “You think I don’t know
you, that I know the map of your sweet body but I am lost in the landscape of
your mind. Is that it?”

He had arrived at the truth without hints from her and she
could not deny it. “The first time you really looked at me you only saw a maid,
a woman with the right blood that you were inexplicably drawn to.” She shifted
away from his touch. “What do you really know of me? You punished me for my betrayal
by taking my innocence but what do you know of my reasons?”

The guilt on his face was heartwrenching and he dropped his
hand. “Sarah, I—” He averted his gaze and she resisted the urge to touch him,
comfort him. He took a deep breath and took her hand, his focus on her fingers.
“You are right. Will you let me know you before you insist on leaving me?”

To hear him ask, a man of his pride and dominance, a man
with his needs, was almost more than she could stand. “Perry, I do this as a
favor,” she said gently. “Once you know me you will not regret me when I am
gone.”

He tightened his lips and finally raised his head to meet
her stare. “I do not believe that.”

“I choose not to test it.” Desperately she tried to pull her
hand away.

“I do,” he said firmly. “Trust me, Sarah. There is nothing
in your past that can be any worse than the things I’ve done.”

“You say that now,” she said. Why wouldn’t he let her go? “But
I am not offering up my life on a hope that you won’t condemn me. We both know
you can’t live up to that.”

“Then you must let me prove it to you.” He backed away from
her but kept her hand in his. “If we had met and I had wanted you, I would have
had to get to know you. I am willing to do that.”

Again she tugged on her hand. “I am not.”

One of his eyebrows shot up. “Scared?”

Yes!
“It does not matter if I am or not.” She
straightened, the cold of the evening and her fatigue from traveling finally
sinking in. “I only want one thing. I want to end the curse.”

As if he’d noticed she was tired, he took her arm gently and
led her to one of the two high-backed chairs by the fireplace. Once she sat, he
sat in the other seat, his hands still keeping hers captured. “Why?”

The simple question undid her. “Because I’ve seen how it
makes people suffer.”
How it makes you suffer.
“It hurts, the change,
doesn’t it?”

He frowned, a single line on his forehead making her want to
reach out and soothe it away. “Yes and no.” His thumb stroked the back of her
hand. “There are things about the wolf that are not bad.”

In all the years she’d known him she’d never heard him speak
like this. “You hate yourself because of it.”

His gray eyes were thoughtful, clear of the bitterness that had
always clouded them in the past. “I hated myself before the wolf manifested
itself in me.” He shook his head. “In the five years I lived with her, Lady
North never hesitated to remind me that I was a mistake, a burden on my parents
while they lived and worth nothing to anyone. When I changed the first time, it
both frightened me and excited me.” His fingers tightened on hers. “The power I
could wield was tempting.” He met her gaze. “I never murdered a single human
being but I came close many times. I drowned my desire to kill in drink and
meaningless sex. The wolf was not my problem, Sarah.”