Wolfsgate (37 page)

“No! It’s no use, I tell you! Jump! Jump! Let go!”

The following night the nightmares had returned with a vengeance.

“Brandon, you’re dreaming. Wake up. I’m here with you.” Justine’s honeyed voice seeped through his consciousness.

His eyes unsealed. He was covered in a sheen of perspiration, his one fist clenched a twist of bedlinen, his legs thrashing against the mattress. The fingers of his other hand gripped her throat. She clasped his wrist gasping. His stiff body slackened, and he let out a wheeze, his hand loosening around her. He retracted it immediately as if he had been burned by the contact with her skin.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his breath choppy, his eyes wild.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Justine took him in her arms. His cold, damp flesh flinched under her touch for an instant then his arms tightened around her as he buried his face in her chest.

“I can feel it inside me. I can feel it.”

Her fingers ran through his thick hair then swept down his cheek to linger on his jaw. “Tell me what it’s like.”

His weary eyes slid closed. “Too good, all warmth and softness. A lull so seductive, it promises everything.” He exhaled heavily and glanced up at her. “I’m sorry, Justine. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hoarse voice was so small, her heart seized. “Here I am helpless and broken again, with only myself to blame.”

“Shh,” she whispered.

He held onto her tightly, his breathing shallow. “I’ve disappointed you, and I probably embarrassed you, didn’t I?”

“No, you did not. Do you remember anything from the other night at the assembly rooms?”

He took in a deep breath and pressed a hand over his brow. “I remember ignoring Amanda. She had attempted to cast her net of allure early in the evening and got annoyed with me when I’d kept my distance. William seemed to take pleasure in his wife floundering on her own, and he ignored her as well. I chatted with other ladies who happened to be flitting about. I should have quit their dull company, but I lingered, intent on my final flourish. I wanted to make sure that Amanda understood that I was off her in order to more sweetly settle the knife in her chest with William as witness.” His hands shook slightly.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“It does! I’ve disappointed you and that matters to me.” He pulled on his hair. “I’d begun to like waking up in the morning looking forward to a day full of prospects, not thinking only of that one thing, craving only that, being its slave. I’m a disaster.”

Her fingers slipped through his damp hair. Her tense lips touched the side of his face. “You’re no such thing. Sit up. Drink some water.” He glanced over at the cup on the side table by the bed and sighed. “Am I nagging again?” She grinned in an effort to keep her voice light. “I am trying to reform, you know.”

“Don’t,” he said, his eyes on her mouth. “I like it.” He pushed himself up, took the cup of water, and drank.

“We’ll go for a walk outside later today if you have the energy. I’ve given the servants the day off, so we’re on our own today.”

Brandon handed her the cup and sank back onto the bed once more.

“Stay with me. Don’t go,” he whispered. “Please.” He closed his eyes, one long, sinewy arm hooked over his face. His other hand clasped Justine’s keeping it close to his chest.

A BITTER TASTE FLOODED HIS MOUTH
.

He stared at the small empty bottle in his hands. The bottle that he’d kept hidden in the hat box in his dressing room. The bottle he regarded as an answer, a victory, a relief, was now nothing more than a relic of hollow, dirty disappointment, an accolade of shame in this hot, sweaty tournament with himself. He thought he could keep this little survival stratagem a secret, didn’t he? Just a drop here and there for that persistent ache in his leg and a little extra pleasantness besides. Had he taken it before the dance? He couldn’t remember now. For fuck’s sake, why couldn’t he remember?

He marched back into their bedchamber and flung the bottle into the fire. He was weak and selfish in the face of that accursed tiny bottle; a burden to Justine, a millstone around her neck. He had dragged her down into his foul, polluted waters, while she was clean and clear as the crystalline turquoise sea of the Caribbean that had struck him with such awe.

Maybe he should end this and put himself back on a boat to Jamaica. What the hell would that solve?

Nothing.

Any fantasies of running off or escaping were the narcotic talking, seducing him into crawling into a hole to languish in some artificial web of serenity. He climbed back into their bed and took her languid body in his arms, inhaling the warm scent of her skin, absorbing the weight of her.

His father had put him on that boat to Jamaica in the first place in order to grow up, to learn the meaning of hard work and commitment to a goal, and to then be able to truly appreciate its rewards. Being an investor in a sugar plantation and sugar export operation was a new business venture for Lord Jeremy. He had wanted Brandon to learn the business firsthand and be his representative there, not merely to sit back in his armchair at Wolfsgate and amuse himself with the dividends.

Brandon, of course, had considered it to be a vile, bitter form of exile. Only later had he understood. The estate had been in a shambles when his father had inherited. Brandon’s grandfather, Malcolm had been an extravagant sort and a great card player and had almost driven it into the ground. Lord Jeremy, however, with his single-minded determination and his business acumen had resurrected Wolfsgate and all the Graven holdings. Brandon had then reigned over it as its young prince, much to William’s great resentment.

When Lord Jeremy had floundered in the early years trying to make sense of the mess his father had left him, Richard had been doing well on his own, and so William had become overly proud of his station in life. Even if Wolfsgate and its title could never be his, at least he and his father had their own wealth and social standing. But when Lord Jeremy’s wealth eventually came to greatly eclipse Richard’s, the brothers grew even more estranged, and William’s competitiveness with Brandon intensified.

As Brandon grew older, Lord Jeremy must have seen the signs in him that reminded him of his own father. It burned him deep in his gut when his own son began to exhibit a casual disregard for the riches and the properties they had. After Annie died, Brandon’s interests had shifted towards superficial entertainments with his circle of friends and Amanda feeding his arrogant, juvenile sense of self-importance. Too many parties, too much drink, and those card games, so many card games.

Brandon was Jeremy’s only child and the sole heir of Wolfsgate, and he refused to allow his son to piss it all away. Lord Jeremy had decreed that Brandon needed to prove himself worthy to be the Lord and heir of such an estate.

After much argument, Brandon had gotten on that ship to the Indies, landed in Jamaica many weeks later and literally smelled poverty up close for the first time in his life. He noticed right away that the businessmen who brokered the operation on the island looked at him with derision and waited for him, the young, green nobleman, to make a fool of himself. He’d felt the shocking onus of disrespect for the first time in his life. Brandon’s charm and personality were of no worth there and that was jarring, a blow.

He was on his own. He had gritted his teeth and took on the challenge to prove them and himself wrong. Couldn’t he be practical and responsible just like his father if he had to be? It was only then that instead of considering the responsibility of Wolfsgate as a nuisance, he began to see it as an opportunity, then a privilege, and later, an honor. Brandon learned everything he could about the business and found he actually liked it. Soon enough he began to offer his own ideas, a few of which had been approved and implemented much to his satisfaction.

After two years in Jamaica, as had been Lord Jeremy’s terms, Brandon shook hands with his partners and the overseers and boarded a ship to return to England. He was eager to see Wolfsgate and his father once again. He wanted to share his triumphs and failures with him man to man and to finally make amends for his past behavior. But that splendid dream had been shattered into bits on the rocky coast of Cornwall in a violent squall.

Brandon swallowed past the lump in his throat. That shipwreck had certainly swerved his life in a very unexpected and dark direction. It had deprived him of so much, yet it had brought him to Justine. She was his family now, and this time he would fight to preserve that family, to protect it, but he had to be strong and clear-headed to do that.

Yes, she was his family, not just his cousin’s stepsister or his father’s sort-of-ward. No.

She was his wife, his other half in the typhoon that was his life. Not just a pretty accessory on his arm at social events or the prescribed female who would produce his heirs, she was his partner. He could converse with her, exchange ideas with her. And no matter what excrement he’d waded into like a muddy bog, she had been there with an outstretched hand to support him, tug him towards dry ground. Like she’d just done with this rotten relapse of his.

She was his wife, his lover, and not just to provide relief or entertainment in his bed. No, it was much more than that. Christ, so much more than simply strokes of pleasure. His heart thudded in his chest. Being with her, in and out of bed, was a kind of sustenance. He needed that and only from her. He couldn’t imagine not wrapping himself around her, touching her in their bed in the stillness of the night, her soft breathing filling his ear, her warm skin against his.

All they had was each other. His muscles tightened at the thought. He had been given a second chance at life, and that included the gift of Justine. He would do everything in his power never to disappoint her again.

No, never again.

Late in the afternoon of the next day the nausea had passed and the sweating and itchiness had begun to subside, but Brandon’s restlessness and anxiety were still intense after only a short, uneasy sleep the night before.

“I’m no physician, but I truly believe fresh country air can cure most ills,” said Justine. “Come, let’s have tea then go for a walk.” He agreed.

The skies were thick today with that dull, white grey that signaled snowfall was imminent. Their boots crunched over the frozen twigs and rocky soil on the cold, hard ground. Brandon squeezed her arm. “You are not the girl from town any longer, are you, Justine? You enjoy the country very much.”

Justine smiled. “When mother and I first came to Wolfsgate, it seemed like a fantasy come true, a veritable wonderland.”

Brandon let out a laugh. “Did you expect fairies to be flying about?”

“Actually, I expected ghosts and savage beasts amidst castle ruins upon hearing the name ‘Wolfsgate.’ I was sure it would be the most frightening place in all of England. But when we arrived I was thrilled to find it quite the opposite.”

“I think the place is full of ghosts and savage beasts,” he murmured.

“Maybe it is full of ghosts, but not savage beasts. Not anymore.”

He sighed. “I believe Wolfsgate has better prospects with you as its mistress.”

“I must confess I can scarcely believe I am its mistress. I still remember the thrill of first seeing the gardens blooming in those rich purples and blues, the lush green meadow, the hills, the creek, the extraordinary folly, the mysterious woods at the edge of the property. All of it filled my starved imagination. Before Mother married Richard we had been living in a small house in London. It was dark and narrow, and I was confined to the nursery. That’s all I remember of it. Richard and William’s house in town was grander but quite formal. Wolfsgate was all wide open spaces filled with light and color and endless promise.”

The glow from her eyes radiated warmth through him. His mouth went dry. “Promise?”

“There was so much to discover. Annie always knew where to go spend a few precious hours to run, play, to hide. We could do and imagine whatever we wished. Just to breathe the air here was pleasure enough for me. It must sound ridiculous to you, but there it is.”

“It’s not ridiculous at all. I’m glad you feel that way about Wolfsgate.” He squeezed her arm. Justine’s eyes darted up at him. Something in his chest caught at the sight of her eyes sparkling with excitement and her cheeks flushing that shade of deep rose.