Seeing the blood, Mary Ellen stumbled to a halt, stick in hand. “You’re bleeding!”
He would heal, and much faster than a human but he couldn’t tell her that. “If you’re going to help, then help!”
She blinked, coming to her senses and shifted her gaze to the dog. Her eyes widened, that pulse in her neck jumped to life. But she didn’t waver this time. Instead, she swung the stick forward and whacked the wolf upon his large head. The stick bounced back, sending Mary Ellen stumbling a couple of steps. The dog yelped and shook its muzzle, trying to rid the dazed feel. But it wasn’t the hit to his massive skull, no…it was the broken ribs that finally did the dog in. The animal stumbled to his feet and wobbled off, disappearing into the woods, beaten, defeated.
What the hell was a wolf doing here? As much as he’d like to go after the animal and make sure it never returned, never tried to hurt Mary Ellen again, he knew he couldn’t. The beast was returning to its den and would have friends. So instead he let the animal go, and he fell back to the ground, staring up at the gray sky. If the dogs had taken over Grayson’s land, his friend would have a fight on his hands.
“What was that?” Mary Ellen whispered, hovering over him.
He had to resist the urge to latch onto her skirt and jerk her down closer to him. He wanted to breathe in her scent, to forget the smell of dog and blood. He wanted to make sure she was well and kiss her so thoroughly that she would forget the animal. “A wolf.”
She frowned and tossed the stick aside. She was panting, her hair had fallen in molten waves down around her shoulders, and there was a tear in the hem of her gown. “There are no wolves in England.”
Hell. He resisted the urge to grin. She was no stupid miss. She might like the finer things in life, she might take pains to keep her clothing clean and speak softly when in public, but here, now, with her hair down around her shoulders, and her skirts twisted and torn around her ankles, she was a warrior goddess. He didn’t know what to say, and so he did the only thing he could…the only thing he wanted to do…he closed his eyes.
“Aidan?”
He didn’t respond.
“Will the wolf return? Should we be worried?”
No, he wouldn’t return, but still he didn’t respond. There was the softest rustle of skirts as she knelt beside him, her scent whispering toward him on the cool air. “Aidan, do answer me. I’m rather nervous.”
He peeked between his lashes. She was close, so very close.
“Come nearer,” he whispered.
“Oh dear,” she gasped, worried. “Shall I race after Grayson? Tell me what to do!”
“Kiss me.”
She frowned. “What? Aidan, do be serious! You’re injured. We really should—”
He didn’t give her time to reject his command but reached up, cupped the back of her head and drew her down. Her delicate hands pressed to his chest, bracing her fall. Aidan caught her gasp of surprise but didn’t relent. God, she tasted good… like strawberries and sherry. With a groan, she sank into his body, a welcoming softness and heat. His tongue delved between her lips, deepening the kiss in a primal way. With her soft body pressed to his, he could no longer control his lust. Heat surged through him, pounded in his veins demanding more…more…all of her.
He growled low in his throat as he rolled over, pressing her into the ground and covering her with his body. He could take her here now, in the clearing. So many chances to have her fully, to mark her, to make her his. And if the beast took control, than he would consume her, take her innocence, destroy her. He froze, his forehead pressed to hers, their harsh breaths mingling. He couldn’t do that to her.
Dredging up what little self-control he retained, Aidan tore himself from Mary Ellen and jumped to his feet. Without waiting, without helping her stand, he started toward the house, leaving her upon the ground with her skirts twisted around her lovely legs. He had to get away, as far away from her as possible. Tomorrow after the party, whether his cottage was ready or not, he would leave.
“Aidan?” He could hear the rustle of her skirts as she managed to regain her feet. He knew she was confused, angry, aching. He knew because his feelings mirrored hers. “Aidan!”
“It would be best if you returned home.” He paused only a moment, but didn’t dare look back. “I’ll speak to Grayson about the attack.”
Quick footsteps pattered toward him. “Aidan, you will merely dismiss what has just happened?”
“What?” He started forward, finding the trail and heading back toward the estate. “The attack? Or the kiss?”
“The attack!” She caught up to him, her skirts improperly hiked up around her calves, showing white stockings smudged with dirt. “The kiss was…a lapse in good judgment.”
He slid her a glance. “Twice?”
“I was frightened, and lost control of my senses!”
It was a silly excuse, but at least she had one. He had nothing other than he wanted her…badly. They reached the back gardens, the house in view. “You’re right. It was a lapse in good judgment, and it won’t happen again.”
His dismissive tone had upset her. He ignored the hurt in her eyes, he had to for his own sanity.
“Good.” As she lifted her skirts and raced toward the house, he didn’t stop her.
He didn’t have the time nor the strength to divulge in an affair. He had more important things to worry about…like how Grayson was going to react when he realized there was a werewolf on his property.
Chapter 4
“Do you believe in ghosts, Miss James?”
Startled, Mary Ellen spun around, her mask tilting precariously with the movement. “How did you recognize me?” As she straightened her mask of lavender silk, she realized what a silly question she’d asked, considering she was one of only two people in attendance with red hair. The other guest was forty and male.
Aidan shrugged. It was Aidan. Although he wore a simple black suit and a simple black mask, his overly long hair pulled back with a queue, she knew his voice. Simply dressed, yet she couldn’t deny there was an elegant ease about him. More than one woman had looked his way when he’d entered the ballroom an hour ago.
“Well?” she asked. “How did you recognize me?”
She hadn’t seen him since yesterday’s attack. The man hadn’t even bothered to check on her, hadn’t even sent word asking about her welfare. And now he had the audacity to approach her?
“I know it’s you because of your walk. Your…”
She waited for one breathless moment, then, forgetting her good sense, prompted. “Yes?”
“Your scent.”
Heat shot through her body, curling down to her toes. She glanced around the large ballroom hoping no one noticed her blush, and wondered how the conversation could so quickly have taken a turn for the inappropriate. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She was annoyed. Annoyed that he could make her feel such sinful emotions. Annoyed that other woman found him so bloody attractive. Annoyed that while he hadn’t been the least bit worried about her, she had spent a restless night worrying about his injury.
He wasn’t smiling, but his face was completely serious, as usual. Half-hidden in an alcove with windows that overlooked the back garden, she felt somewhat safe from prying eyes. But she certainly wasn’t safe from the man.
She studied the polished floorboards. “Are you saying, Mr. Callaghan, that I smell quite badly?”
He leaned against the wall, which brought him closer to her. “The opposite, in fact.”
No other explanation. He remained stubbornly silent, watchful. The man left her feeling quite odd. Time actually seemed to stand still when he was near, which was utterly ridiculous. There, in that alcove, hidden by red, velvet curtains, it almost felt as if they were the only two people in the world.
His gaze dropped to her lips, then lower to her neck, even lower still. Did he think of their kisses as she did every minute of every hour? How she wished she’d taken Meg’s advice and worn the ne
ckline of her lavender silk gown a little higher. She might not feel quite so naked.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, meeting her gaze once again.
“What question?” Lord, she was confused. She couldn’t think when he looked at her with such heat in his eyes. He wanted her. She knew the look of attraction. Had seen the same heated gaze in the lads about town. The difference was that their passionate glances hadn’t stirred her blood. She hadn’t wanted them.
“Ghosts, do you believe, as the ancient Celts did, that the world between the living and dead is thin this time of year? That spirits can come and go as they please?”
“Nonsense,” she whispered. And it was nonsense, so why did a shiver of unease caress her skin?
He reached out and drew his fingers down her bare arm. “You’re chilled.
“Your hands are cold.”
He gave her a tight smile and pulled back. “Yes. The autumn air.” He looked away as if avoiding her gaze, when he’d sought her out. How very strange he acted at times. Bemused, she glanced toward the floor where couples danced in brilliant gowns, their faces covered with masks that in reality did little to hide their identity. Why must he be so bloody mysterious? If she wanted a mystery, she’d read a gothic novel, for heaven’s sake.
“Your injury?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Fine. Looked much worse than it was.” He stepped back, as if putting distance between them. “There is no need to worry, Grayson has set up guards around the perimeter.”
“I wasn’t worried about that, I was worried about…” She couldn’t very well tell him the truth, even though she had a terrible, awful feeling he knew. She was worried about him. Him. “I believe Meg is looking for me.”
Aidan smiled, a smile that said he didn’t believe her in the least. Still, she didn’t care what he thought. At least that’s what she told herself as she dropped into a quick curtsey and left him. Skirting around a large vase of roses, Mary Ellen hastened her steps. How dare he be so bold. Telling her she smelled. Touching her that way. Worst of all, how dare she enjoy their conversation! Overcome, she paused and closed her eyes, resting her hand on her arm where he’d touched her. She swore she could still feel the pressure of his fingers. She would not care. She wouldn’t. After all, he hadn’t bloody well cared enough to worry about her, so why should she care about him?
“Mary Ellen,” Meg called out, waddling toward her. “Beth has arrived!”
“Meg,” Mary Ellen took her hand, relieved to see her sister. “Everyone will know who I am if you go around shouting my name.”
Meg laughed, a merry sound that had more than one man looking her way, even though she was a good seven months with child. The blue mask of peacock feathers did little to hide Meg’s beauty and her dark hair shimmered against the green dress she wore. “Darling, your red hair is like a bloody beacon. Everyone knows you already. I’m afraid there’s no hiding.”
Mary Ellen sighed, realizing Meg was right. “What is it you need?”
“Beth has arrived, and I’m eager to catch up with her without being interrupted. I’m headed upstairs. I know it’s not right for me to retire before the guests do, but I also wanted to check on Hanna and Sally.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Besides my feet are bloody murdering me.”
“I understand.” Mary Ellen didn’t dare complain, although she would feel her sister’s absence. She didn’t want to be left alone with guests more intent on making mischief than being polite. In London, no doubt, she would never have to deal with men who liked to grope, who drank to excess. If she told Grayson she’d felt more than one man’s paw upon her bottom, he would bloody kill the persons responsible, but she wouldn’t ruin Meg’s party.
“Aidan,” Meg called out, waving him over.
Mary Ellen stiffened. How had she not known he was behind her? Her fingers curled into her silk skirts as she resisted the urge to flee. Hell, she knew exactly what Meg would ask him.
“You’ll look after Mary Ellen, won’t you?”
He paused beside her and only then did she dare to glance at him. He was smiling, a completely mischievous looking smile that she’d never seen on him before. It worried her, that smile.
“Of course. I shall look after her as if she’s my very own.”
A small line formed between Meg’s brows. She wasn’t the only one to find his comment odd, wondering if there was a hidden meaning. But of course Meg ignored her instincts because he was a friend of Grayson’s.
“Good.” Meg glanced at Mary Ellen one last time, hesitating, then turned and made her way toward the foyer.
Although they were in a crowded ballroom, Mary Ellen felt completely alone with the man. The thought of Aidan hovering over her for the entire night sent icy panic through her veins. After yet another restless night, she had decided the best thing would be to stay as far away from him as possible. If he wasn’t near, she wouldn’t experience those unsettling feelings. But here he was, like always, completely destroying her plan.
“I’m not a child. I’ll do quite well on my own.”
“Of course.” His tone and features spoke only of sincerity, yet there was a definite sparkle to his light blue eyes. After yesterday’s wolf attack, he most likely thought of her as a typical weak-kneed female. Anyone would have been shocked to see a wolf, let alone be attacked by one. But not Aidan. No, he’d reacted immediately, almost as if he’d expected the animal to appear. A man always in control.
Just what she needed. A nanny. A completely inappropriate governess who made her think sinful thoughts. She turned, her skirts flaring wide and weaved her way through the crowds. Lawd, had more people arrived? Surely they hadn’t invited this many. The cool night air beckoned from the French doors, thrown wide to allow guests to come and go as they pleased.
She’d ignore him. Truly, it was the best course of action. After all, he’d ignored her all last night after their attack. The heels of her slippers whispered against the slate stone patio, thumping in time to her heart beat. Did he follow? She wouldn’t dare glance back, he might see it as an invitation to join her. She would merely pray that he had found Elizabeth. No, she didn’t hate him that much.
Outside wasn’t much better. Many guests had escaped the stuffy indoors and were enjoying the festive night air. In the darkness, guests could indulge in their sinful side, hidden amongst the shadows. Perhaps an All Hallows Eve festival had been a bad idea after all. People would use any reason to indulge and a pagan festival was the perfect excuse.
Frowning, Mary Ellen moved across the patio and leaned her elbows on the marble railing. A large fire burned brightly in the middle of the lawn. Couples laughed and danced around the flickering flames, doing things they wouldn’t dare in the light of day. There was no denying that the festive mood was much more raucous than normal. At the beginning of the festival, Meg had warned her to stay inside where she’d be protected. But Meg had abandoned her, leaving Mary Ellen in Aidan’s sensual hands. Wasn’t being out here better than being inside with him?
Blast it all, she’d needed air. She’d needed space. Yet, now, she wasn’t so sure. Above, stars twinkled, a full moon shone brightly overhead, casting the area with an eerie yellow glow. A shiver of unease caressed her skin. As guests danced around flames that sent shadows and light across their masked faces, she couldn’t help but think they rather resembled a Grimm’s fairytale…or a nightmare.
Still, she couldn’t return to that ballroom and Aidan.
“Behold, an angel fallen from heaven.”
Startled by the sudden voice, Mary Ellen spun around. A tall man dressed in a black suit with a black mask stood at the bottom of the steps leading into the garden, his wicked smile directed up at her. Mary Ellen frowned, confused by his boldness. Then he shifted and the light from the lantern hanging near the doors hit his golden hair. Her heart skipped a beat. Aidan was not the man for her, but Lord Worthing was indeed.
“I believe I know that beautiful auburn hair,
that lovely figure.” He moved up a step, his body fluid, almost like a cat… about to pounce. Still, he was safer than Aidan, surely.
Mary Ellen flushed, her grip tightening on the railing. “Lord Worthing, I feared we would never get the chance to talk tonight.”
He grinned, those amber eyes sparkling behind his mask. He was so incredibly handsome, but blast it all, she couldn’t help but compare his features to Aidan. Sadly, she found Worthing… lacking.
“I’ll always find time for you.”
A couple months ago those words would have had her swooning. Now… now they merely piqued her curiosity. Did his comments seem too rehearsed? His movements played out too precisely?
“A stroll with an angel would do wonders for my soul.” He held out his hand.
Mary Ellen bit her lower lip. Dare she? Damn it all, two months ago she would have jumped at the chance. She would not give up on her dreams now merely because Aidan had come along. Besides, other than the occasional grope and kiss, Aidan had never spoken any words of affection. She’d planned too long and too hard to let an infatuation with an inappropriate man like Aidan ruin her future.
Mary Ellen moved down the steps, her legs wooden, her heart protesting with a thumping beat of denial. She ignored it all, ignored everything that told her to return to that ballroom. Reaching him, she slipped her gloved hand into his. Aidan hadn’t worn gloves, although why that comparison came to mind, she hadn’t the least idea.
Worthing leaned toward her, his breath warm on her ear where Aidan’s had been cool, almost cold. “The yews will provide us with privacy.”
A shiver of unease whispered up her bare arms. Worthing started forward, leading her toward the line of tall trees. Every step she took was forced.
Don’t go.
A voice whispered somewhere nearby and at the same time all around her. Mary Ellen paused, confused and glanced back at the house. No one was there. Only the dancers could be seen through the windows.