Wolf Who Loved Me (12 page)

“The idea of us being respectable?” he asked as he swung his feet off the bed and got up to cross the room. “Yes, I think it’s preposterous, too. Imagine, the Hadley men being models of propriety. It’ll never happen. But Dash seems to think it will.” Weston stepped behind the screen.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You’re not the only one who was rolling in the mud, darling,” he replied.

Maddie could see his form through the screen as he disrobed. The breadth of his shoulders was in stark contrast to the narrowness of his waist, if the shadows were actually in proportion to reality. She covered her face when he bent to pull his trousers over his feet. Was he naked behind the screen? The very thought made her heart beat faster.

“I feel as though I’ve been rolling around with swine,” he called from behind the screen.

Maddie’s mouth fell open.
Swine?
Of all the things to call her. Swine, indeed. She stood up and marched over to the screen, then glared around it. But the sight that met her eyes was unlike any she’d ever imagined.

His hips
were
narrow, his shoulders
were
broad, and his buttocks, they were… well, they were uncommonly attractive. She tilted her head to study him more closely. She’d never imagined a naked man would look so… appealing. When she’d seen him the night before, it had only been by the light of the full moon. She’d missed quite a bit, apparently.

“Do you like what you see?” he drawled slowly, his back still toward her as he glanced over his shoulder at her. A grin lurked on his face.

“Well, I’m not certain
like
is the right word,” she murmured, still unable to draw her gaze from his backside.

“Are you lusting for me, Lady Madeline?” he teased as he reached to pick up a length of toweling beside the tub. He wrapped it around those lean hips and then turned to face her. A grin broke across his face that made her want to smile with him. “Would you consider helping me wash my hair, Madeline?” he said with a teasing singsong pitch to his voice.

“I would consider dumping a bucket of water over
your
head,” she replied.

Amusement made his dark eyes twinkle. “Make it cold water, would you? Because the sight of you in nothing but that blanket is making me insane.” He let his gaze wander down her body. “I’m assuming you are naked under there?” he tossed out casually, as he bent and wet his own hair, then began to soap it while she watched.

She
was
naked and had never been more aware of it. But so was he. Nothing more than a length of toweling covered his most private places. She let her gaze drop.

“Why, Madeline,” he teased. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have designs upon my person.” He rinsed his hair, his brown locks darkened even more by the water that sluiced from the ends.

“Y-you’re all wet,” she stammered. Then she gulped.

“If I had to wager on it, I’d bet you are, too,” he drawled slowly. Her heart fluttered within her chest. Then he shook his head like a dog after a bath.

Maddie scurried away as water droplets flew in all directions. She shrieked and ducked behind the screen. “I cannot believe you did that!” she cried. But he barreled around the screen and scooped her up in his arms, then tossed her back onto the bed. She bounced in the middle, clutching the counterpane she’d wrapped around herself to be sure it stayed closed. Even then, a leg slipped out of the opening. She moved to close it, but he got in her way.

“Believe it, Madeline,” he growled as he crawled to lean over her and gazed down, a smile gracing his beautiful face. She reached up to touch his cheek. When had he become beautiful to her? She’d always been terrified of him. And his hair stuck out in every direction, and water dripped from his locks onto the naked skin of her chest. “You are stuck for a lifetime with this loyal dog,” he growled. Then his face softened as he looked into her eyes, his brimming with something she wanted to delve farther into. “It’s regretful that you’re getting such a mutt, instead of a purely bred specimen.”

“You’re purely bred,” she corrected him. His parents had been married after all.

“But with pockets to let and no title to recommend me,” he tossed out as his lips dropped to touch a water droplet on her chest ever so softly.

“I could think of worse things you could be,” she consoled. Why she felt the need to console him, she wasn’t certain. “Like bald.” She trailed a hand through his damp hair and giggled. She tugged gently at his hair. “I wonder if your hair will turn grey or turn loose when you’re older.” She couldn’t keep from exploding with laughter.

“I may be punting on the River Tick, Madeline,” he said regally, “but I do have a full head of hair.” He pretended to mull it over. He lowered his lips to the skin of her chest again and very lightly mouthed at the water that shimmered there. “And I have some other assets.”

“Do enlighten me,” she gasped as his mouth delved down to the edge of the counterpane. The edge of it was just barely tucked beneath her arms.

“Where would be the fun in telling you, darling?” he asked as he rolled from atop her and landed on his back. “You’ll just have to figure them out for yourself.”

Maddie sat up on her elbow and glanced down his body. “And just where might these secrets be hidden?”

He palmed the side of her face as he grinned roguishly and whispered, “Beneath my towel, Madeline. Where else?”

Maddie rolled to her bottom where she could face him. Heat crept up her cheeks, making her feel like a fireplace that had just been stoked. “You shouldn’t say such scandalous things,” she whispered. But she was unable to draw her gaze from that blasted towel.

He chuckled as he wiggled his legs with glee, obviously pleased by her discomfort. He laughed until he had to wipe his eyes from the exhaustion caused by his mirth. “Oh, Madeline dear, I’ll have so much fun teaching you to be naughty. Though I think you’ll be a willing student.” His gaze darkened as he let his eyes slide up and down her body. She felt that movement more strongly than any caress he’d bestowed upon her so far. “I think there’s a small piece of you that enjoys getting dirty.”

“I do not, sir, enjoy getting dirty, and I never, ever will.”

“Hmm. We’ll see about that.” Then he narrowed his eyes at her. “Just to be sure we’re on the same page of this book that is now our lives, you do know that everything has changed, don’t you?” He reached out as though he wanted to touch her. But then he pulled his hand back. “I’m not wealthy or titled. And to top it all off, I’m a Lycan. You are triply blighted.”

She mulled it over for a moment. Things could be worse. He could be Gelligaer or Chilcombe or any number of the other peers her father had brought home to the castle. At least Weston Hadley had had her attention, even before he’d turned into a wolf before her eyes. “I’m not blighted.” She shrugged. “So, my circumstances have changed. Sophie’s circumstances have changed, and she’s making the best of it. I’ll do the same.”

Weston scoffed. “Sophie took employment, darling. You’re taking a husband.”

“I knew I’d take a husband one day, and I knew it would be someone I didn’t love. This is not very different. As you so graciously mentioned, I was born to be docile.”

“God, I hope you’re not really docile,” he muttered as he rolled to his side and put out the lamp on the bedside table, casting the room in shadows. “I hate docile.”

He rolled to face her once again, still wearing nothing more than his towel. She lay down on her pillow, never moving her eyes from his. He looked fairly average with his scar hidden in the pillow. But then he reached out and ran his fingertips slowly up her arm. That wasn’t ordinary at all. It made the hair on her arms stand up. It made her nipples press like hard points against the counterpane. “What’s wrong with docile?” she whispered to him.

“Docile is fine for other men. And if it’s what you
truly
are, I’ll be very happy with it. But if it’s not, I hope you don’t pretend to be obedient or docile just because it’s what’s expected. I’ll expect you to be you.”

“And who am I?” She had to ask, wondering if he saw something more inside her than she even knew herself.

“You’re Lady Madeline Hayburn, only daughter to the Duke of Hythe. And you’re marrying well below your station to become just another Hadley.” He cupped the side of her face and kissed her very gently on the lips. “Too late to change any of that, I’m afraid.”

What if she didn’t want to change any of that? Even if she could? What if, right in that moment, she wanted to throw docility out the window? Was there more to her than that? Maddie had a sneaking suspicion that Weston Hadley had a lot more fun being poor and dirty than she did being rich and clean.

“Go to sleep,” he said quietly. “We have to be up early in the morning.”

“To get married,” she said softly.

“Unless you run off first,” he grumbled as he settled deeper into his pillow.

Wes barely slept a wink the entire night. At some point, Madeline had pressed her lithe body up against his and decided to use his chest as a pillow. She’d burrowed in so tightly that he couldn’t tell where he stopped and she started. Not that he’d ever complain about such a thing. If she wanted to sprawl her delightfully naked body across him all evening, he was more than willing to accommodate her. There was also the matter of her snoring. Though that was an awful word to describe the content, little breathy sounds that emanated from her as she slept. He’d listened to them the whole night and imagined them transforming into sounds of passion. The thought had nearly forced him to get up and sleep in a chair. Parts of him still stood at attention as dawn threatened to break.

She could torture him like no one else had ever done, but that would all end. Today. He’d marry her today and finally relieve the ache he’d felt for her since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.

The sound of a carriage in the distance caught Wes’ attention, and he glanced toward the rented room’s small window. A warm orange hue tinted the horizon. Morning was upon them, and they had an important day ahead of them.

“Darling.” He caressed her bare back. Dear God, she had the softest skin he’d ever touched. He could touch her all day. Except for today. They had an appointment with a blacksmith, after all. “It’s time to wake up, Madeline.”

She grumbled something unintelligible and smacked his chest as though he was a pillow she was attempting to fluff.

Wes laughed at his good fortune. “If you want to stay in bed tomorrow, I’ll be eager to stay there with you.” In fact, he’d stay abed for days if she wanted, making love to her until they were both breathless and sated.

I
knew
I’d take a husband one day, and I knew it would be someone I didn’t love.
Her words from the previous evening echoed in his thoughts.

Wes frowned as he stared up at the dingy, water-stained ceiling above them. But what did he expect? Madeline barely knew him. Though he’d met her three years ago, they’d never spoken more than the most cursory of words until recently. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn to love him. And she hadn’t tried to poison him, so that was a positive.

Odds were he’d spend eternity in hell for robbing her of her intended life, and though he would have never chosen this path for her, he couldn’t bring himself to feel badly about that at the moment, not with her naked breasts crushed against his chest.

“Hadley!” someone bellowed from the taproom beneath them.

Madeline bolted upright, horror splashed across her face. “Papa,” she gasped, clutching the counterpane against her breasts when it would have fallen lower.

Wes was certain his heart had stopped beating all together.
The
Duke
of
Hythe!
Here? Good God. He scrambled off the bed and began to tug his borrowed trousers up over his hips. How the devil had the man caught up to them?

Madeline looked as though she might faint when she glanced down at her unclothed state. “You should never have sent him that note.”

Wes snorted. It was certainly too late to rectify that mistake. The one time he’d tried to do the gentlemanly thing and
this
was what happened. “Get dressed, will you?” He crossed the floor to peer down at the innyard below. The Duke of Hythe’s sleek traveling coach stood proudly out front, shiny black with gold gilt. A few feet away, Renshaw glanced up and met Wes’ eye. The driver gestured toward the Eynsford carriage already hitched with fresh horses. If they could just slip past the duke…

“Hadley! Where are you?” Hythe bellowed again.

Wes couldn’t let the duke catch them before they were married. His secret was only safe as long as Madeline needed to keep it, too. He turned back to find lady in question still too stunned to move. He picked up her stained-beyond-repair dress, which was still a little damp from the night before, and tossed it to the bed in front of her. “Get dressed!” he ordered more gruffly than he would have liked. But time was not on their side this morning.

Wes snatched up his own shirt from the floor and slid it over his head.

He heard the innkeeper mutter the number “Nine,” and he knew it would only be moments before the duke was upon them. Luckily, Madeline had pulled her yellow dress over her head and was scrambling to put herself to rights.

Wes crossed the floor again and opened the window as wide as it would go. He could easily make the jump, but Madeline couldn’t, not unless she was part Lycan and didn’t know it. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Jump and I’ll catch you.”

Her green eyes grew wide, as though he’d just asked her to sprout wings and fly to the moon.

The stomping of boots pounded up the steps.

“We don’t have time to make other plans, Madeline. I need you to jump to me.”

She barely nodded, but Wes figured that would be as good as he would get standing there. He looked back over the window, climbed up on the ledge and jumped to the ground below. His legs stung a bit from the landing and he wished he’d thought about his boots before he leapt, but there was no time.

“Madeline,” he hissed at the same moment he heard a pounding on the bedroom door.

Then before Wes could say another word, two boots flew out the window, one of them smacking him directly above his left eye. “Madeline!” he growled.

“Sorry.” She looked down on him from the window. “You forgot them.”

The duke’s voice rang out loudly. “Madeline, are you in there? Open up!”

Wes’ heart pounded so loudly in his ears, he could barely hear. “Jump!”

She peered over the edge of the window and cringed. “It’s too far, Weston.”

They didn’t have time to plan something else. “I will catch you, my dear. I swear it.”

Madeline climbed up on the sill, fear etched across her face. Wes heard the bedroom door break open at the exact moment Madeline leapt from the window. A second later, he enveloped her in his arms, relieved beyond measure that she’d actually jumped. But he didn’t have time to revel in the emotion, and he bolted toward the awaiting Eynsford carriage.

“Weston Hadley!” the duke bellowed from the window. “Return my daughter to me at once.”

“I can’t do that, sir.” Wes called back, pushing Madeline toward the open coach door. He glanced up at her father, who was red in the face with fury flashing in his eyes. “I’ll be happy to discuss the situation with you tomorrow.”

The duke bolted from the window, presumably down the stairs to catch them, which Wes couldn’t allow. He motioned for Renshaw to follow, darted back to the sleek Hythe coach, and lifted the rear of it. “Take the wheel,” he ordered with a grunt. Before the duke’s men could even move, Renshaw had the wheel removed and stood there staring at him like an idiot. Wes released his hold on the carriage, and the conveyance nearly toppled over from the disparity of balance.

There wasn’t a second to spare. Wes ran forward, took the wheel, tossed it onto the top of the Eynsford coach, and yelled, “Don’t just stand there! Quickly, man,” to the still-startled driver. Then, as an afterthought, Wes snatched up the boots Madeline had thrown at him and dashed back to the Eynsford carriage, hurtling himself inside the open door and landing on the floor.

“Go, Renshaw! Go!” he called as the carriage lurched forward.

***

Out of breath, Maddie watched Weston scramble to the bench opposite her. He heaved a sigh as he tossed his borrowed boots to the floor. “I didn’t think you’d jump.”

Maddie wasn’t certain why she had. She could have easily turned around, opened the door for her father, and been headed back home to Kent right this moment. Back to the suitors her father wanted her to entertain, assuming he’d been able to keep her flight north a secret from the collection of lords. And Maddie couldn’t face that possibility. Weston Hadley wasn’t the sort of man she was supposed to marry, nor was he the sort of man she had ever dreamed she would marry. But there was something about him she liked, and that was more than she could say for all the other fellows still in residence at Castle Hythe combined. “I’m not accustomed to leaping out of inn windows.”

He smiled as he caught his ragged breath. “Well, allow me to say you did it magnificently for your first time.”

Maddie glanced out the coach window, back toward the little hovel where they’d spent the evening. “It won’t take him long to catch us.”

“He is now missing one rear wheel,” Weston informed her rather smugly, if the truth be known.

Maddie blinked at the Lycan.

“It’s on the top of
our
carriage,” he said with a chuckle “He won’t go far without it.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how he had accomplished such a feat so quickly. But it was no matter; her father wouldn’t give up. Quitting wasn’t in his nature. “Papa will simply take a horse and follow us then.”

Weston shook his head. “Not from that establishment. The only cattle left are Hythe’s coach horses, and who knows how far that group has been driven thus far.” He shook his head. “No, we have a lead on your father. But we can’t afford to give it up.”

His eyes strayed to Maddie’s
décolletage
, and she realized her tattered day dress hadn’t been buttoned properly. She gasped and smacked a hand to her bodice.

Weston laughed. “Don’t know what I was thinking. You couldn’t get out of the thing without help last night. Turn around and I’ll button you up.”

Was he enjoying her state of dishabille? “I woke up to hear my father yelling your name, then had to scramble into this awful dress and jump out an inn window. I didn’t even have time to don my chemise. I hardly find my current state amusing.”

He motioned for her to turn around, which was easier suggested than done inside a moving carriage. But Maddie did turn her back to him. A moment later, his warm hand stroked across her bare back as he worked at the first button. “If you don’t find your dress amusing,” he brushed his lips against the side of her neck, “then I won’t even mention your hair.”

Her
hair?
Maddie felt the top of her head with both hands. She couldn’t see her hair, but she could just imagine it wild and sticking out in all directions. She squeaked in horror. Heavens, every moment she spent in Weston Hadley’s company, her appearance became more ghastly. What would she look like after a decade with the wolf?

Weston chuckled again as he finished with her buttons. “You should never go to bed with a wet head of hair, darling.”

Maddie glanced at him over her shoulder, hating the mirth she saw reflected in his dark eyes. Of course
he
looked dashing this morning, even with his scar. She hated him in that moment. Why should he look handsome in his borrowed innkeeper clothes when
she
looked worse than a common refugee escaping The Terror a quarter century earlier? Not that she’d ever seen a refugee, but she could well imagine one, and she could well imagine that she looked even worse by half. “I had very little choice as we don’t possess a brush. We probably can’t even afford one.”

A frown settled on his face, which Maddie found strangely satisfying. “I don’t want to hear you complain about needing a bath until after we’ve reached Gretna. Your hair is unruly but it is
clean
.”

Did he think she was a dolt? She knew they couldn’t stop any longer than it took to change horses along the way. Not with her father fast on their trail. Still, she couldn’t resist goading him by saying, “A novel concept for you, Mr. Hadley?”

Something flashed in his eyes, a hint of wickedness perhaps. “Indeed. Being dirty is so much more appealing. I’m certain you’ll grow to enjoy it immensely.”

Not if she was made to look like a waif, she wouldn’t. She might be marrying into the Hadley family, but she would always be Lady Madeline. No one could ever take that away from her. And ladies, no matter what breed of dog they married, never looked like waifs. Well, except for those refugees who
had
escaped The Terror, but she chose not to give that point any credence.

“Only you,” he settled back against the leather squabs, “can look so imperious in a ratty dress and wild hair and,” he looked at her feet, “no slippers.” Then he tipped back his head and laughed.

Maddie folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

“My apologies.” He actually appeared to be struggling to stop his laughter, but then he started laughing even harder.

How did one strangle the life out of a creature that could heal himself?

Finally his levity came to an end and he coughed into his fist when he saw her glower. “I-I… it’s just that,” he hastened to explain, “you hit me in the head with
my
boots, but then you managed to leave your own slippers behind.”

Maddie tossed her wild hair back regally. “I
had
them when I jumped. They fell off along the way. Be glad you got your smelly boots.”

Weston flashed his blasted charming smile and nodded his head in agreement. “I suppose I’ll just have to carry you the rest of the journey then.”

“I suppose someone will have to,” she muttered as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and flopped back against the squabs. She’d never flopped in her life, but it seemed the appropriate thing to do at the time.

Weston bent and lifted the edge of her dress, then plucked at her naked toe, lifting her foot into his lap. “I’d imagine these pretty little feet have never run bare through the woods or across a pasture?” He arched a brow at her.

She tried to pull her foot back, but he held tightly to it. “Of course not.” She was hardly a savage. “May I have my foot back, please?” she asked as sweetly as she could.

“No,” he grunted as he examined the arch of her foot, allowing his fingers to slide up the sensitive skin like the gentlest touch of a feather.

Maddie couldn’t keep from giggling as she tugged at her foot again.

“Ticklish, are you?” he said, looking like he was thoroughly enchanted by the sole of her foot.

“I suppose I am,” she said with a laugh she couldn’t withhold. “Let my foot go,” she cried.