"Love At First Bite" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenyon Sherrilyn, Banks L. A., Squires Susan, Thompson Ronda)Chapter SixAnne laughed out loud from the sheer joy of racing across the moors in the moonlight, the wind in her hair, Merrick at her back, his arms around her holding her securely in front of him. He was right. She'd never been on a horse as fast as the stallion. Sin's hooves thundered along the cracked ground, throwing clots up in their wake. "Want to go faster?" he leaned in close to ask. "Oh yes," she breathed; then they both leaned in together and the stallion shot ahead. Her blood sang in her veins. Anne closed her eyes and simply lived in the moment—felt the horse powerful and surefooted beneath her, felt the wind dance across her face and a man's strong heartbeat against her back. She never wanted it to end, but of course it had to. Merrick slowed the stallion. Sin's breath fogged on the air as he snorted a protest. Merrick knew the horse well. The stallion loved to run. "There's a fair in the shire not far from Blackthorn Manor next week," she told Merrick. "You should race Sin there." "And will you come to watch us run?" Anne loved country fairs, if her aunt and uncle found them boring at best. "If my aunt and uncle will bring me," she answered. "They don't usually care for such things. My aunt would rather attend a grand ball in London." "And what about you, Anne? What do you prefer?" He'd brought the stallion to a halt. The moonlight bathed the land around them in soft light, again making her marvel that such a harsh landscape could be beautiful. "I prefer the fair," she answered honestly. "Although my aunt would count it as time spent wastefully. There are no fine gentlemen at the fair for me to attract. There is no agenda there that she would approve of. No marriage mart." Merrick pulled Anne's now tangled hair over one shoulder. The brush of his fingers against her neck made her shiver. "Why are you not wed already, Anne? Are the gentlemen in London all blind or daft?" She could only be honest with him. "I am boring." When he laughed, his warm breath caressed her ear. "You, boring? A woman who sneaks out of the house in the night and strips down to her underthings so she can ride her horse across the moors? A woman who ventures into the woods alone to confront wolves? A woman—" "I don't usually do those things," Anne interrupted, turning so that she could see him. "I'm having a rebellion. I'm quite certain it will pass." "Will it?" His mouth was suddenly only a whisper from hers. Had he brought her out here to finish the seduction? Something wicked inside of her said if so, that might not be a bad thing. The ride had fired her blood. The ride and Merrick wrapped around her. Tonight might be all they had together. Anne knew her rebellion couldn't last. At some point she must regain her senses and return to her boring and predictable life… but perhaps not just yet. The lady wanted him to kiss her. Merrick was tempted. Tempted nearly beyond his control. But something odder than normal had happened to him tonight. In the woods, while he'd been kissing Anne, touching her, wanting her like he had never wanted a woman before, something had stirred beneath his skin. He'd felt it rising up in him. It had come very close to consuming him… whatever the hell it was. His lust for her had turned animalistic. His thoughts had become disjointed, as if they were slipping away from him. As if he were transforming into something else. For a moment, he'd actually been afraid that he might hurt Anne. That fear was the one thing that had penetrated his lust for her and caused him to break away, to disappear long enough to pull himself back from the brink of whatever was happening to him. Now she tempted him to lose control again. In the past, women of Anne's station had come to him, sneaking to the stable where he worked in the dead of night. They had wanted sport with him, and Merrick had used them, he supposed, for whatever revenge against their class he harbored in his heart. But Anne, she was not like those other women. What he felt for her was not the same. And what she made him feel was like nothing he had felt before. He took pleasure in her joy. Her innocence was like a balm to his jaded soul. What he wanted from her was not a few stolen moments in the night. He very much feared what he did want. It was all he had promised his mother he would forsake. "If I were a gentleman, I would take you to the fair," he told her, brushing a tangled lock of hair from her beautiful face. "I would drive you in a smart buggy and show you off. I would wear your favor upon my arm as I raced Sin." She smiled at him in the moonlight and his heart twisted inside of his chest "But I am not a gentleman, Anne. You must not forget that." Her sweet smile faded. In the moonlight, he saw the blush It was defiantly out of his character. Merrick had never minded taking what was offered, secretly resenting that he was at times treated like a fine stud in the stable and not a man. He had thought Anne was different, but was she? Perhaps she thought of him the same. A diversion from her ordered life. Just a part of her rebellion. Then should he feel any guilt about seducing her? Having his sport with her as she would have hers with him? Her eyes were large and innocent as she stared into his. Soft as the eyes of a doe. No, he was not wrong about her, even if he wanted to tell himself he was at the moment. "You want more than I can give you, Anne. More than a man like me will ever be able to give you. I'll take you home now." For a moment, her gaze upon him sparkled, as if her eyes had filled with tears. "Is it so much to want?" she whispered. "To be loved?" Was that what she wanted from him? Merrick had trouble believing that. More than likely, she was simply confused about what love was. Not that he really knew himself. He had never been in love with a woman before. He certainly knew what it was like to be rejected. He would spare himself that with her. "I'm sure you are loved, Anne. Your aunt and uncle—" "Have trouble showing affection toward me," she interrupted. Anne blinked back her tears. "I've done everything I know to do to win their hearts, but I feel as if I have failed. I wonder if the fault lies within me. If there is something about me that is unworthy of love?" Was that what she thought? How could anyone not love Anne? She was good and sweet and beautiful, and he'd known that about her instinctively. He'd known she was the opposite of him. Maybe that was why he found her irresistible. She was everything he was not. She had everything he did not. But then, perhaps they were more alike than he knew. They both wanted what they could not seemingly have. "You are not unworthy, Anne," he told her. "Maybe they are unworthy of you." And so was he. Merrick turned the stallion toward Blackthorn Manor. Anne settled back into the saddle before Merrick. They rode in silence. He savored the feel of her against him. Her sweet scent in his nostrils. A moment in time when nothing separated them, even if tomorrow everything would return to the way it should be. Anne in her grand house. He in the stable. She a lady waiting for all that she deserved in life, all he felt would be hers in time. And he… Well, Merrick wasn't even certain what he was. A man Lady Anne Baldwin should stay far away from. He did know that much. The fair in Devonshire was a grand sight; Stalls of merchants, horse trading, sheep trading, and even a traveling show performed. Anne weaved her way through the crowd, her pace leisurely so that her beloved Bertha could keep up. Her aunt and uncle strolled ahead, dressed as if they visited a grand ball rather than a country fair. Anne had decided upon a simple day frock, modest bonnet, and one of her oldest shawls. She didn't want to stand out in the crowd. She had too much pent-up energy to play the part of a grand lady today. Since she and Merrick had snuck away into the darkness she'd stayed away from the stable. She was frightened, Anne admitted. Frightened of her feelings for Merrick. No good could come of them, but knowing that didn't seem to stop her from wanting to be with him. Merrick was here today. He'd left at daybreak, advising her uncle to bet money on him and his stallion in the race. If it weren't for the prospect of making money on a wager, she doubted her aunt and uncle would have wanted to attend the fair at all. A woman telling fortunes called to Anne as she strolled past. "Come let me tell your fortune, good lady." Bemused, Anne paused at the brightly colored tent. The fortune-teller's eyes were heavily made up. She wore a scarf tied around her head and a ring on every finger. Anne reached into her reticule and removed a coin. "This is all I have," she said, which was not entirely the truth, but all she had for such silliness as having her fortune told. The woman snatched the coin and grabbed her hand. She studied Anne's palm. "You have a long lifeline," she said. "But I see trouble ahead in your future." Anne supposed most people should expect trouble of some sort or another in their future. She merely smiled at the woman. "There is a man," the woman said, looking up at Anne from beneath her lashes. The woman glanced down again, then suddenly released her hand. Her eyes widened. Her dark complexion paled. "Beware of the wolf in your stable," she whispered. "Stay away from him or bring his curse down upon you both." Anne blinked down at the woman. "Beg your pardon?" "Go now," the woman commanded. "I can do no more than warn you." Anne felt cheated, to put it mildly. There was no wolf in her stable and she'd expected to be told she would meet a special man and have a bright future. It was the sort of thing a woman wanted to hear. Suddenly Anne wondered if the wolf the woman referred to might in fact be a man whom she should avoid. "Is this wolf in my stable a man or a beast?" she asked the woman. The fortune-teller shuddered. "He is both," she answered, then rose and disappeared into the crowd. Gooseflesh rose on Anne's arms. She pulled her shawl closer around her. "There you are, Lady Anne," Bertha huffed beside her. "I had lost you in the crowd for a moment and was sorely worried." Still unnerved, Anne reached out and squeezed her maid's arm. "I'm fine. I stopped to have my fortune told." Bertha snorted. "That was a waste of coin. Suppose she told you you'll soon meet a nice young man and have a happy future together. Those types always tell a body what they want to hear." Bertha's words only further unsettled Anne. So she had thought, as well. A disturbance farther down the stretch of vendors and performers drew her attention. Horses churned up dirt in the air. The horse races were about to begin. "Come, Lady Anne," Bertha instructed. "Your aunt and uncle will wonder what's become of us. We're to join them to watch the races and have a nice lunch." Anne's maid never missed a meal, which was obvious by her rounded frame. Bertha hurried Anne down the lane toward the meadow where the horse racing would take place. Anne couldn't help but glance over her shoulder toward where she'd last seen the fortune-teller. The woman stood staring after her. Quickly Anne turned away. She spied her aunt and uncle resting on a blanket spread on the ground. Millicent, her aunt's personal maid, had come along, hefting things from the buggy for her mistress's comfort. The woman knelt upon the blanket unpacking lunch. "There you are," Aunt Claire called upon seeing Anne. "Come and sit, Anne. We are famished." Dutiful as always, Anne hurried toward the blanket and seated herself. "I can't thank you enough again for bringing me today, Uncle Theodore and Aunt Claire. I know you both find these fairs boring, but I am having a wonderful time." Absently her aunt reached forward and patted Anne's hand. "Wish a social engagement would put the sparkle in your eyes and the blush in your cheeks nice this crude affair. Perhaps you were never meant to live the life of a social wife. 'Tis no wonder a suitable gentleman has not offered for you, Anne. You have odd likes for a well-bred girl. You must have gotten that from your mother's side." Anne stared down at her clasped hands. "I'm sorry to be such a disappointment to you, dear aunt," she said. "I will try harder to gain the attention of a suitable bachelor when next we visit London." "Leave the girl alone," her uncle fussed. "We want her to be happy in her match, don't we, lady wife?" Her aunt patted Anne again. "Of course we do. Take your time, Anne. There is no hurry." Aunt Claire's attitude was strange indeed. Most mothers were so desperate to find suitable matches for their daughters that nothing else was thought of or discussed from the time the girl became old enough to marry. Since her aunt and uncle displayed little actual affection for her, Anne suspected they'd be all too happy to rid themselves of her. Perhaps it was because she'd been so obedient trying to win their love she was not considered much of a burden. "I should try harder," she admitted. "I'll be twenty-one soon, practically considered on the shelf." "We thought we would stay in the country until after your birthday," her uncle piped up. "We thought you would enjoy it more if you could ride your horse and wander about outside like you love doing." Anne was surprised. Her birthday was a good three months off. She couldn't see her aunt spending that length of time away from her London parties and social friends. Anne had in fact thought her guardians might throw her a birthday ball. It would be an opportunity to attract male suitors for her. "How kind of you," she said in earnest. "I do prefer the country over the bustle of London, but I know that both of you prefer our time in the city." "It is your birthday," her aunt said, forgoing the hand patting this time. "We want you to spend it as enjoyably as possible." A bout of tenderness for her aunt and uncle overcame Anne. She supposed she sometimes judged them unfairly. Simply because they were not free with their affections didn't mean they didn't care about her. "It would make me very happy to spend my birthday in the country." "Then it is settled," her aunt said, eyeing the food her maid had set out for them. "Let's dine before the horses stir up even more dust and ruin our meal." They set about having lunch. Anne found her appetite lacking. She was nervous. Maybe for Merrick and the black. Maybe because of her encounter with the fortune-teller. No one seemed to notice how sparsely Anne ate. Her aunt and uncle were too busy talking about the latest London gossip. "Two of them married now," Aunt Claire said. "Some say they are being allowed into society because of their affiliation with the dowager. I say it's shameful. I'm happy Anne didn't go all soft in the head over Jackson Wulf like every other woman he flashes those dimples at." Anne's attention snapped toward her aunt. She spoke of the Wulf brothers. The wild Wulfs of London, as some called them. Suddenly a realization struck Anne as forcefully as a blow. "Wulf," she whispered. "What, dear?" her aunt questioned. Grappling with the sudden dawning of who Merrick reminded her of, Anne merely shook her head and didn't answer. Merrick was the spitting image of Jackson Wulf, only he had dark hair instead of light and light eyes instead of dark. No wonder she felt as if she'd seen him before the first morning she met him in the dining room. How uncanny that they should resemble each other so much, at least in facial features and stature. Her gaze automatically strayed toward the meadow where the horses were being lined up. She couldn't see over the crowd and rose, shading her eyes against the sun. A few tall men blocked Anne's view. "I can't see," she said to her aunt and uncle. "I'm just going a bit toward the front." "Bertha, go with her," her aunt instructed. "She'll be gawking and unaware if someone is picking her pocket." The maid, still involved with her lunch, grumbled, placed her plate aside, and lumbered to her feet. "Getting too old to chase after her," she complained. Anne didn't wait for Bertha. She hurried into the crowd, now driven to see Merrick. She paid no mind to the people she shoved her way through. Standing now at the front of the crowd, she searched the riders preparing their horses for the race. Merrick was already seated upon his great black stallion. The two of them made a formidable sight. Both dark. Both magnificent. Her breath caught in her throat as Merrick pranced the stallion around the other riders, obviously with the intention of intimidating them. Merrick's hair was tied back, calling attention to his striking good looks. He wore a white shirt, open at the neck, ruffled and seemingly out of place among the country's simpler folk. He wore tight black breeches and his boots were now polished to a high shine. She'd never seen a more handsome man. Besides the rest of the Wulf brothers. All were handsome indeed. Jackson was a close friend of hers. They had met abroad just last year. He had since married. A woman some claimed was a witch, but Anne had liked Lady Lucinda the moment she had met her. By God, Merrick did look like Jackson. He looked like him enough to be his brother. She must tell Merrick about his uncanny resemblance to Jackson Wulf. It might answer some of the questions Merrick had concerning his parentage. But then again, it might simply make trouble for the Wulf brothers, and Lord knew, they had enough of that dogging their heels as it was. Anne was at an impasse over her sudden suspicions. She valued her friendships with Jackson, had found him funny and charming and none of the things that were often rumored about him. But Merrick might find comfort in at least knowing where he came from, if in fact her suspicions were correct. And how could they not be? Merrick had to be a Wulf; that was all there was to it. " The riders lined up before her. Their horses stomped and pranced in readiness for the race. Behind her, she heard men making wagers. Merrick was a favorite, most betting on the Earl's new man. She also heard murmurs among the women present. Hushed whispers regarding the stable master's handsome looks and fine form—talk that made her back stiffen. "I imagine Lady Baldwin spends more time than usual around her husband's horses these days," one woman joked. "Hear she likes her lovers young and virile." "She'll not be disappointed with that one, then." Another woman laughed. "Suppose the man is used to servicing his employer's women, like any good stud." The women tittered and Anne moved away from the talk and the ill feeling it brought to her stomach. She'd noticed the way her aunt eyed Merrick that first morning in the dining room. Saw the way her gaze swept over him in an assessing manner. Anne hadn't thought much of it, other than that he was the type of man who drew a woman's notice, young or otherwise. Surely her aunt had not approached him in the stable and dangled herself before him, suggesting she was ripe for adventure herself. Sudden jealousy ripped through Anne. She had no right to feel the emotion. She had no right to suspect her aunt was anything but taken with his looks, without acting upon her interest. Then Anne recalled her uncle's warning to them about the hens behaving themselves. Had his statement been aimed at his wife, rather than Anne? "Nonsense," she scolded herself. She had never felt jealousy over a man and didn't like the emotion. It made one think irrationally. Wanting to soothe her sudden worries, she glanced around in search of her aunt and uncle. They had joined the crowd of onlookers for the race. They stood a few feet away, her aunt staring at Merrick as he took the stallion through his paces, while her uncle clearly made wagers on the outcome of the race. Merrick, as if feeling Aunt Claire's regard, glanced toward the woman, held her brave stare for a moment, then looked away, she supposed in search of younger, prettier sport. His eyes landed upon Anne. She tried to look away, but she couldn't. Funny, she had never felt the flutter in her stomach and the leap of her pulses when Jackson Wulf looked at her. So much alike and yet so different. A trumpet sounded and Merrick glanced away, his interest now trained upon the race. Anne flushed that he'd managed to hold her gaze and glanced around uneasily. She saw her aunt staring at her, her disapproval obvious by the scowl on her face. Anne refused to feel ashamed, having heard what she just had about her aunt and her taste for younger men. It was obviously all right for her to behave badly but not for Anne. She lifted her chin in a show of defiance, rewarded by her aunt's sudden look of surprise. A shot was fired and Anne returned her attention to the race. The horses and riders bounded forward and cheers went up from the crowd. How she longed to be part of the race. To be riding at breakneck speed across the meadow, her hair flying behind her, astride and in control of the horse. She became caught up in the activity and shouted along with the crowd when Merrick pulled ahead of the other riders. It was over almost before it began. Merrick was easily the winner, and most of the crowd pushed forward to offer congratulations. Anne could do no such thing. It wouldn't be proper, but for a moment she longed to be among those gathered around Merrick. She longed to throw herself in his arms and kiss him. Guilt over her brave thoughts made an appearance. She glanced back at her aunt and uncle, hoping they had not witnessed her enthusiasm for the race. They weren't paying any attention to her but seemed to be involved in a heated argument. She'd wager it had something to do with Merrick. Glancing back at the stable master, she noted that he also seemed focused on her aunt and uncle. It was absurd, but if Anne didn't know better, Merrick appeared to be listening to their conversation. He couldn't possibly hear whatever they discussed at the distance between them, not to mention the shouts and claps on the back from those gathered around him, but when he glanced at Anne, she read a certain amount of alarm in his usually cocky expression. A moment later he was distracted by the presenting of the purse for winning the race. Her aunt and uncle were suddenly beside Anne. "Let's go home now, Anne," her aunt instructed. "I think you've had enough excitement for one day." The disapproving scowl still shaped her aunt's thin lips. Usually, Anne would have been devastated to bring either her aunt or her uncle the slightest reason to be disappointed with her. Today, it seemed less important. Nevertheless, she fell dutifully in step with them and returned to their carriage. Merrick would come home, too, although she doubted he'd ride along with them. He seemed to like being on his own. A lone wolf. A Wulf in truth, she remembered. Would she tell him of her suspicions? Would it solve anything or just create more trouble? |
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