Wolf Who Loved Me (13 page)

“But it’s cold,” he said as he wrapped both his hands around her bare foot.

“I had to abandon my stockings,” she reminded him. The warmth of his hands did feel nice. So she stilled her foot, reveling in his ministrations.

He looked up at her with a wicked grin. “Lost your stockings, lost your slippers, lost your underthings,” he said as his gaze drifted down her body, almost as though he was looking at her naked. She shivered lightly under his heated look. He’d gone from being winded and worried to being thoroughly entranced by her foot, and now he looked completely taken with the thought of her loss of appropriate clothing. “Lost your dignity yet?”

“Hardly,” she replied. She jerked her foot, and he finally released it. He looked slightly bereft without it, like a child who’d lost his plaything.

Before Maddie could even settle her skirts back around her legs, he scooped her up and deposited her on his lap. “Wes,” she cried as she pushed weakly against his hold.

“Oh, so I’ve graduated to Wes, now, have I?” he laughed.

“
Weston
,” she corrected herself. “Let me go.” Her protests sounded weak even to her own ears. Did she really want him to let her go? Maddie stared into his dark eyes and could imagine losing herself in their depths.

Wes had only planned to play with her feet, since she’d suffered the great indignity of losing her slippers. She’d even gotten the bottom of her foot dirty in her mad dash across the innyard. But he imagined she wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear that the bottom of her pretty little foot was less than clean.

But then they’d started talking about her losing her stockings, and all he could think about was the fact that her bare little foot was connected to a bare little leg, and he wanted to run his hand up her bare calf and higher.

Then the thought of her with no chemise made the thoughts even more prominent. So, like the beast he was, the moment she’d said his name, he’d scooped her into his arms and directly onto his lap. Right on top of his rising manhood. “Stop squirming,” he warned, adjusting her in his lap as he turned her to face him.

“Put me down,” she said weakly. But the flush on her cheeks and the mad thumping of her heart gave him a good idea of her true desires.

“I would if I thought that’s what you really wanted.” He played with a lock of her hair as she settled comfortably in his lap. Comfortably for her, but not as much for him.

“What makes you such an expert on women’s thoughts and feelings, Mr. Hadley?” she asked with an imperious tone.

“A moment ago, I was Wes, and now I’m back to being Mr. Hadley?” The very thought was like a knife to his chest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she prodded, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a teasing sparkle in her eyes.

All Wes could think about was Madeline’s lack of underthings and how easy it would be to get her out of that dress and on his lap completely naked. He could toss the dress out the window, and then she’d be completely at his mercy. He could spend the next hours of their trip convincing her that she’d like being naked and poor. “What
was
your question?” he grumbled, trying to concentrate on her words.

“I want to know what makes you so adept at deciphering a woman’s thoughts and feelings that you can tell me what I do and do not want.” She grinned at him, a playful little grin. He hadn’t misinterpreted her expression moments earlier.

“Shall I be honest?” he asked, looking into her enchanting eyes. They were like limpid, green pools he could drown in.

“Please,” she said softly. Then she inhaled deeply and held her breath, as though what he had to say would realign the pieces of her world, if the thought was profound enough.

“I don’t care about other women, Madeline,” he admitted. She looked so serious that he felt like he needed to tell her the truth. She’d just jumped from a window to outrun her father, to stay with him, for God’s sake. She at least deserved something in response of her loyalty.

“You need not lie to me, Weston,” she said, moving as though to rise from his lap. But he tugged her back down and clamped an arm across her thighs.

“I’ve been besotted by you since the first time I saw you,” he admitted.

“You
have
?” she squeaked. Then she cleared her throat. “You have?” she asked again, watching his face intently.

He nodded. “You were standing in the ballroom of the castle, talking to Sorcha MacQuarrie. You were the most angelic creature I’d ever seen.”

Madeline smiled shyly. “You were with your brothers, and Lord Radbourne asked me to dance.”

Damned Archer always did have the best of luck, not that Wes had trusted himself to speak to the lady at the time.

“Grandmamma was furious as none of you had been properly introduced.”

Fury did seem to be the duchess’ natural state. “As I said before, Hadley men are rarely proper.”

She frowned, as though mulling over his admission. “You would have run off for Gretna with any lady who saw you turn into a wolf?”

He pretended to ponder her question. “Perhaps,” he teased. “But I wouldn’t have enjoyed it nearly as much with anyone else.” He couldn’t keep from laughing when she rolled her eyes. Even with all her years of propriety, she could still do something as indecent as roll her eyes. That meant there was a chance she could be persuaded to throw propriety to the wind. There was a chance she’d get on top of him and ride him all through the night. The thought entered his mind, and it wouldn’t leave. Damn his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her face marred by a worried scowl.

“Nothing,” he growled and closed his eyes. But even with his eyes closed, all he could see was her wildly tumbled hair cascading over them both as she climbed atop him. Would she ever do that? Could she ever do that? Or was her damned perfection going to put a damper on any chance he had of getting her wild and wanton in his bed?

“Wes,” she said very softly. He cracked an eye open. He was still holding her tightly in his lap, and she didn’t struggle against him at all. “Did you really want me, even before you had to have me?” she questioned.

“More than my next breath,” he admitted.

“Will you kiss me, Wes?” she asked quietly.

But he didn’t even lift his head from where it rested against the squabs. He just said, “You kiss
me
, Madeline.”

She looked at him as though he’d grown two heads. “Me?” she asked, indignation high in her voice. “You said all I had to do was ask you if I wanted another kiss.”

She was right. He was being an idiot. But she was so damn tempting there in his lap. And if he ever put his lips on her, he wouldn’t be able to pull them away. He’d have her naked in the coach and he’d be inside her, and she deserved better than that. “So I did,” he grunted.

She huffed. “Well, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so.”

He ran a hand through her tumbled hair and cupped the back of her head. “I
want
to kiss you,” he breathed, his lips a breath from hers. But just then, the coach rolled to a stop. “Damn him,” Wes groaned. What the devil was wrong with the coachman? What on earth could make the man want to stop at this very moment? “Renshaw?” he called loudly.

The driver’s voice echoed back at them. “You may want to step outside, sir,” Renshaw said.

Wes slid Madeline from his lap. “Stay here.”

She nodded and flicked her foot forward as though to remind him that she couldn’t go anywhere, at least not very far and not very quickly, without her slippers.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered. Then Wes opened the coach door and stepped out into the now bright sunlight. His mouth dropped open at the sight that greeted him. What awful luck! With Madeline’s father quick on their heels, they didn’t have time to deal with a prostrate gig blocking the road. “Good God!”

“What’s wrong?” Madeline’s voice called from inside the carriage.

“Nothing, darling, Just an overturned conveyance. I’ll take care of it.” He followed in Renshaw’s wake toward the downed gig. “Do you see anyone?”

The driver shook his head. “Not yet, Mr. Hadley. No horse either.”

Well, Wes doubted anyone just abandoned their country carriage in the middle of the road. “Hello!” he called.

But there was no answer.

Perfect. Wes clapped a hand to the coachman’s back. “We’d better move it out of the way before Hythe catches up to us.”

Renshaw snorted. “
We?
I’m fairly certain you can handle that on your own, sir.”

The driver most certainly did know something, but Wes chose not to worry about that problem at the moment. If Renshaw had kept his mouth closed as long as he had thus far, he could probably be trusted to keep his own counsel at least until they returned to Kent. “Just look for anyone who might be thrown or injured, will you?”

As Renshaw pushed his way through the foliage lining the road, Wes grasped the underside of the gig and flipped the small conveyance back upright. It bounced slightly on its wheels, both of which seemed to be in working order. Then the small crest on the side of the gig caught Wes’ eye.

He groaned.
Not
Dovenby
. He had no desire to see that pompous Lycan for the rest of his days. “See any sign of anyone?” he called to the coachman.

“No, sir.”

“Dovenby?” Wes bellowed. “You dying somewhere in the field?” He sniffed the air. He didn’t smell the blackguard. Still he waited a moment to see if any reply came.

All he heard was the noise the summer wind made as it moved through the trees. Wes tugged the gig to the side of the road so there would be enough room for the Eynsford coach to pass. If the Earl of Dovenby had gotten himself into some sort of trouble, he could bloody well take care of himself. “Let’s hurry on then. Hythe is still back there somewhere. I don’t want to lose our lead.”

***

Maddie peered out the carriage window, watching Weston and the Eynsford driver hurry back to the carriage. She stared past them to a flashy gig that leaned forward on its shafts. Hopefully no one had been hurt.

Just as Weston opened the door, Maddie scrambled back to her seat to give him room to enter the carriage. “Is everyone all right?”

He settled on the bench across from her. “Couldn’t see a sign of anyone, but I’m sure Dovenby will be back for his gig soon enough.”

Dovenby? “You know who the gig belongs to?”

A look of annoyance settled on Weston’s face. “I recognized his crest.”

“A friend?” she pressed. There was something he wasn’t saying.

“Something like that,” he grumbled as the carriage lurched forward.

What was that supposed to mean? “You’re not worried about your friend?”

“He’s not my friend and he can take care of himself.”

Maddie frowned. “I just don’t understand why someone would leave a conveyance overturned in the middle of the road.”

“Dovenby is accustomed to leaving his messes for everyone else. Think nothing more of it.”

“Do you think he was racing and had an accident?”

Weston narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t know what he was doing, darling. But he’s already captured more of your attention than he’s worth.”

“I never have understood the appeal of racing. Why do men do such foolish things, Weston?”

For some reason he turned a bit red at her question. “I couldn’t say,” he replied tightly.

Being a man, he most certainly could say, she was sure. “Have
you
ever raced?”

“We are racing your father right now, my dear.”

She hadn’t really thought of it that way. “I meant for sport, Wes. I don’t understand why men do things that could get them injured or killed, all in the name of fun.”

“I can’t really answer for most men, Madeline.”

Because he could heal himself, the risk wasn’t as dangerous. She supposed that could be a benefit of marrying a Lycan. Or not. “Does your ability to heal make you more reckless than normal men?”

“Might we change the subject? I don’t know how most men think, Madeline,” Wes grumbled.

“Neither do I,” Maddie said with a long sigh as she sat back and regarded her soon-to-be-husband from across the coach. “But I do know that you’ll no longer be allowed to race once we’re married.”

His head jerked up. She suddenly had his full attention, though she wasn’t certain why. “No longer allowed?” he questioned. “Beg your pardon?”

She nodded for emphasis. “You’ll have to cease your reckless behavior. I can’t have a husband of mine creating scandal or making a bad name for himself.”

Wes sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “In case you’re unaware, Madeline, the Hadleys already have a name for themselves. You will have to be a pretty good runner if you hope to outdistance it.” His gaze raked quickly up and down her body. “Something tells me you’re not predisposed to such physical activity.”

She huffed and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. He had no idea what she was and was not predisposed to. “All I know is that you’ll have to lead a more respectable life, Weston. Between Sophia and me, we can have the Hadley men up to snuff in no time.” She began to tick items off on her fingers. “There can be no drinking, no swearing, no racing, no gambling…” She stopped to think.

“Shall I be allowed to breathe, my dear? Or will that tax your delicate sensibilities, too?”

“Breathing will be fine. As long as you don’t do it loudly.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “I hope I’m able to come up to scratch, darling,” he said. Then he whispered dramatically, “If not, you might have to topple from your lofty tower and join me with the plebeians. I promise to catch you when you fall.”

Fall? Not in his lifetime. “That will never happen,” she informed him. There were certain things she would not give up, and respectability was one of them. “Grandmamma would never allow me to behave irresponsibly.”

“Darling, the duchess will no longer be your keeper,” he said, laughing. “I keep telling you that your station in life has changed. When will you believe it?”

“I have a huge dowry—” she began. But he cut her off.

“Which your family will never put into the hands of a Hadley. You said so yourself.”

She had, but that was beside the point. “I don’t know how a discussion about your obligations as a husband turned into another discussion about your lack of a fortune.”

“I know my obligations as a husband.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Would you like to hear them?”

Would she? Probably not. “If you’d like to share them, I certainly would.” Perhaps he would surprise her with his insight.

“I am obligated to keep you fed, clothed, and with a roof over your head.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a finger and shushed her.

“And if you’ll give me an opportunity, with little regard to social standing, I might be able to make you happy, Madeline. How would you feel about that?”

Happiness was more than she had hoped for with any of the throng of gentlemen currently ensconced in Castle Hythe, but it wasn’t a necessity. “I would feel much better about being respectable.”

A wolfish grin settled on his lips. “Respectability never kept anyone warm, Madeline. So if not happiness, then perhaps I’ll throw in some passion when you least expect it.” His eyes took a leisurely path down her body once again.

Maddie’s face warmed and she turned to gaze out the window. Blast him for affecting her in such a way. Passion, he said? She’d asked him to kiss her and he hadn’t done so. Was she only to receive passion when she least expected it? That hardly seemed fair. Somehow she managed not to snort as the Cumberland countryside rolled past the coach window, or the Yorkshire countryside or wherever they were.