“My dear, what is it?”
“Nothing at all.” Mary Ellen turned toward Worthing and smiled brightly up at him. “Shall we?”
“Indeed.”
The sounds of revelry faded the further away they strolled, the shadows of the trees beckoning privacy. Brittle fall leaves crunched underfoot, sounding very much like the breaking of bones. Or was it the footsteps of a wolf?
“Whooo, whooo,” an owl called.
At the sudden snap of branches from a nearby elm, Mary Ellen gasped.
“Fear not,” Worthing said softly. “I shall protect you.”
But how could he protect her from a pack of dogs? Did his breath smell of alcohol? How she despised the scent. Mary Ellen gave him a tight smile, and wondered who would protect her from him? They stepped between a parallel line of yew trees and darkness surrounded them. Here, the yellow moon could not reach. Here, prying eyes would not see.
“Do you believe in ghosts, Ms. James?” Aidan’s voice whispered through her mind.
She was very much rethinking her position on spirits and the otherworld. “Perhaps we should return? The air holds a chill that I don’t much care for.”
Worthing pulled his hand free and wrapped his arm intimately around her waist. “I shall keep you warm.”
She stiffened under his bold touch. Never had she cared much for men who pressed their advantage on unmarried women…but for Aidan. No, she craved his bold touch. Oh, she and Worthing had flirted, but she couldn’t help but think his actions too much, too soon. She barely knew him, after all. What had she been thinking when she’d decided he’d be the perfect husband? Why, just earlier in the evening she’d seen him whispering in Catherine Smith’s ear.
Before she could protest, his lips found hers. A cold, damp mouth smothering the breath from her lungs. How very different his kiss was from Aidan’s! When he shoved his tongue between her lips, Mary Ellen’s stomach churned. Completely and utterly different. He did not make her feel warm and achy, nor did she feel as if she wanted to keep kissing him forever. In fact, she only felt the somewhat frantic need to escape his touch. Mary Ellen shoved her hands into his chest and twirled away from him.
“How do you truly know I’m Mary Ellen?” She took a few steps back, intending to move as far away from him as possible. “I could be anyone.”
“A fairy in disguise?” He grinned, thrilled with the chase, as if she was a hen and he the fox. Disgusted, she glanced toward the trees. She could slip through the yews, head across the rose garden and be back at the house before anyone knew she’d been gone.
“Shall I dare to uncover the truth?” he taunted.
“You’ll have to catch me first.” She pushed between the green branches, taking refuge in the garden.
His delighted chuckle annoyed her. It was too high-pitched, too loud, too unlike Aidan’s deep laughter. Damn him! Why must she think of Aidan now? The man was a constant thorn in her side. With her gloved hand, she swiped at her mouth, attempting to erase the memory of Worthing’s kiss.
Dreadful, beastly man! Mary Ellen hid between two trees, watching with relief as Worthing headed in the opposite direction. She could only pray he’d become lost.
“Oh my little fairy, where are you?”
She rolled her eyes, stepped back onto the path and brushed her skirts free of any leaves. Worthing was most definitely not the man for her. But if not he, who then?
With a sigh she started toward the house. Her slippers were soaked through with dew, most likely ruined, blast it all. Would anyone notice and guess the truth? It was all Aidan’s fault, really. If he hadn’t induced such strange emotions within… if she wasn’t intent on proving she didn’t need a nanny…
A twig snapped from somewhere behind her. Mary Ellen froze. Blast, had Worthing found her already? Yes, it was most assuredly Aidan’s fault and she would make sure to tell him exactly how she felt when she returned to the ballroom.
Mary Ellen pasted a smile upon her lips, and turned. “Why, Lord Worthing, you’ve already…”
Two men stood in the shadows of the yews, faces covered with black masks, clothing as dark as sin. She had no reason to suspect they were anyone other than guests. So why did a shiver of unease whisper over her skin?
“Can I help you?” she asked, hating the way her voice trembled.
Neither one said a word.
Mary Ellen knew in that moment how right Meg had been.
She never should have left the house.
****
“Byron is so very romantic, don’t you agree, Mr. Callaghan?”
Aidan was doing his best to ignore the woman in front of him, but she didn’t quite notice his disinterest. He’d rather stab himself repeatedly in the eyes than talk about poetry. He glanced out the windows. Where the hell was Mary Ellen? He’d seen her slip outside moments ago but surely she hadn’t been silly enough to head into the gardens unescorted.
“Don’t go,” he’d whispered, but she had left anyway.
He moved to the open doors, knowing the woman followed… Miss Palmer, or something or another. The woman Mary Ellen seemed to despise. He didn’t blame her.
The patio was empty.
“Or do you prefer other reading material?” Miss Palmer asked, snapping at his heels like a pup after a meal. If only all human females were as annoying as Miss Palmer, there would be no need to worry about infatuations.
He paused near the railing, resting his hands on the cool marble. He hadn’t expected Mary Ellen to leave the patio, but obviously she had. Under the glow of the moonlight he could see the impressions of her slippered feet in the grass. Not only her slippers. Larger prints as well. Male. The animal inside him roared to life. Anger fought with despair. She might not want him, but he had apparently claimed her as his own anyway.
“I, in fact,” Miss Palmer proclaimed. “Will read anything.”
Aidan started down the stairs, his steps long and hurried.
“Will you be back, Mr. Callaghan?” she called out.
He didn’t bother to respond. Damn her, what was Mary Ellen thinking to go off with some drunken fool? He knew she was attempting to prove something, to show him that she didn’t bloody well care, but he’d never thought her to be this irrational.
The laughter of the guests dancing around the fire was barely audible. The only sound was his own blood roaring… surging… through his veins in angry protest. He wanted her. He needed her. She belonged to him. Only him.
He knew there was an owl overhead without looking. Could hear Worthing calling for Mary Ellen near the rose garden. The drunken fool. Knew there was a couple kissing passionately some ten feet from him, hidden under the branches of a maple tree.
None of that mattered, for in the air was Mary Ellen’s sweet scent. He closed his eyes briefly as he continued down the path, following her. The little fool. When he found her, he’d tell her exactly how stupid she’d been. And then…hell, and then he’d kiss her. He’d kiss her and show her pricesly where she belonged…with him. A sudden scream interrupted the night sounds. A scream so soft and muffled that others wouldn’t have heard the cry for help. But he heard.
Mary Ellen.
Fear and anger combined. Aidan burst down the trail, uncaring who noticed his unnatural speed. The shadows between the yews morphed into human shapes. Two men, one woman. Mary Ellen struggled in the arms of her captors, doing her best to break free.
Aidan saw red. His fingers curled and he burst forward so fast they didn’t see him coming. He grabbed the first man by the shirt and tossed him aside, finding perverse satisfaction when he heard the thunk of the man hitting a tree. He had no time to think, only time to act. The animal inside him would protect what was his, and Mary Ellen was his whether she would accept it or not.
A split second later he threw his fist forward, directly into the second man’s face. The crack of bone was a most pleasing sound. Mary Ellen started to fall back with her captor. Aidan reached forward, jerking her safely into his arms. Dear Lord, if any
thing had happened to her… No, he couldn’t think on that now. He pressed his face to her hair, breathing in her scent and trying to calm the raging fury in his veins.
“Aidan?” Mary Ellen blinked up at him, confused.
He understood her bemusement. It had all happened within a blink of an eye. No human could possibly understand what had just taken place. He knew by the scent, both men were dead. Their bodies broken by the pressure of his fists. He felt no guilt. He merely wanted to kill them all over again. Grayson would have a damn mess on his hands.
It was only when he cupped the sides of her face that he realized his hands were trembling. “Are you well?”
“Yes, but…but…” She was pale, shaking in his arms. Her mask had come off and lay upon the ground, while her hair tumbled in silvery waves that curled down her back and over her shoulders. The sleeve of her dress was torn. She looked like an angel who’d been through hell. Twice in two days she’d been attacked. It made no sense. Werewolf and now this? Something was wrong. Aidan clenched his jaw so hard, he was surprised his molars didn’t crack. Taking in a deep breath, he drew her close, holding her against his chest, forcing himself to be gentle. For the first time since he’d known her, she welcomed his touch, his attention. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, he almost sighed at the rightness of it all.
“You’re hurt,” he said softly.
“No, I’m fine. Merely surprised and confused, is all.” She tried to turn to look at the men, but he held her close, not allowing her to divulge her curiosity. The scene would only disturb her, confuse her even more. She’d undoubtedly have questions he wasn’t sure he could answer quite yet. But it didn’t matter anymore…things had changed between them.
“You’re cold.” She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. “Always so cold.”
If only she knew why. If only she realized how well she could warm him. No doubt she’d run screaming toward home…just like his fiancé. He had to tell her…eventually and he would reap the consequences then. But at the moment he would merely savor the feel of the woman. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No…I…” She seemed flustered, unsure and she’d always been so sure. He found her sudden bemusement endearing and even better, intriguing. “Yes?”
She swallowed hard and dared to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Aidan.”
She’d said his name. He wanted to hear it again, and again.
“Of course.” How badly he wanted to taste her. How badly he wanted to pull her close, feed from her, taste her, have her completely, make her his. Only his. The beast within growled to life, demanding he divulge. “We should return.”
Out here with him, she was barely safer than with the men who had attacked her. His hand slid to her lower back and he started to lead her toward the patio, desperate to protect her from himself, when she pulled away.
“But…”
He paused, glancing back at her. “What is it?”
“I don’t understand.” She moved away and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. Not merely bemusement…there was confusion and fear. Yes, fear. “You moved so quickly—”
“You were under duress. You’re confused.”
She frowned. “And your eyes, I could have sworn they glowed.”
“The moonlight.”
She stepped closer to him, as if searching for the truth in his gaze. Hell, if he didn’t want to admit it all, tell the truth right at that moment. He was so damn tired of the secrets.
“And your—”
He grasped her upper arms and jerked her forward. Before she could protest, he pressed his chill lips to her soft, yielding mouth. So bloody warm. Mary Ellen sank into his body, releasing a little moan that stirred his blood and sent his cock throbbing.
He couldn’t help himself. She didn’t belong to him, she never would. Yet, when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her soft breasts to his hard chest, he knew he would take her there on the damp grass. His body pulsed with life. His world was right. He no longer suffered when she was in his arms.
He was so consumed with the need to have her that by the time he heard the other men approach, it was too late.
Chapter 5
The soft tap, tap, tap of dripping water woke Mary Ellen.
Slowly, she lifted her lashes, only to stare at cold, stone walls glistening with condensation. Where in the bloody hell was she?
With a groan, she shoved her hands into the slate floor and managed to sit upright. But the movement only sent her dark world spinning. She couldn’t remember much… Aidan… Aidan had rescued her yet again. But then, why was she here? Confused, she studied her surroundings. A large, dark space…the perimeters hidden within shadows. A shiver of unease raised the fine hairs on her neck.
A dungeon.
Mary Ellen surged to her feet, tripping in her haste. The hem of her skirt had come loose and was dragging behind her. Frustrated, she yanked on the material. Ruined. Utterly ruined. Whoever had done this would pay.
“Hello?” she cried out, her voice echoing.
“Shhh,” someone whispered from behind her.
Mary Ellen spun around, searching the darkness. “Aidan?”
“Keep quiet,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”
“But…” A mixture of emotions held her captive. She felt ill, off balance, relieved.
He shifted, the softest of movements, but the sound was unexpected… metal scraping against stone. “Are you chained?” she whispered furiously.
“Yes.”
Fear swirled through her in a bitterly cold wave. “Why?”
He paused for one telling moment. “I don’t know.”
“Oh Aidan!” She rushed toward his voice.
“Don’t!”
But she didn’t listen, didn’t stop until she collided with his hard, cold body. His familiar spicy scent put her somewhat at ease. A wonderful smell that overrode the stench of their dungeon. As she drew comfort from his being, he apparently did not glean comfort from her. His body was stiff under her touch. She didn’t care one whit.
“What happened?” She followed the line of his broad shoulders, lower, down his muscled arms where they twisted behind his back. He wore only his shirtsleeves, his jacket either taken from him, or lost. Her fingers brushed thick, cold manacles that wrapped tightly around his wrists. Hopelessness and outrage combined in a sickening combination. Who would do this to them and why?
“Come closer,” he whispered. “Wrap your arms around my waist, as if we’re embracing.”
Mary Ellen didn’t hesitate. Eager to feel his touch, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He tilted his head toward her, his hair brushing her temple, his breath chill on her ear. As afraid as she was, she couldn’t deny the shiver of heat that whispered through her body. She’d dreamt of being in Aidan’s arms, but not exactly in this setting.
“We were captured. I don’t know why, or who is responsible, but they’re watching us.”
Her instinct was to pull away and demand answers. As if sensing her desire, he brought his leg forward, tucking his foot behind hers and keeping her close to him. “Stay put.”
She swallowed hard, proud when her voice didn’t quiver. “Where are they?”
“About twenty feet above. Along the far wall there are windows.”
She slid a glance right. Sure enough, there was the faint outline of windows covered with metal bars. “Why? I don’t understand any of this.”
He paused for one telling moment. He knew more than he was letting on. “Have you ever read about the gladiators from long ago?”
“In Rome?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.” Her father was a scholar, she knew lots of odd information.
“I have a feeling someone wants to reenact the games.”
She didn’t understand what he said, but she knew her feelings well enough to recognize panic. A fear she’d never felt before. A panic that froze her body in place,
made her heart thunder so loudly it hurt. Hinges screeched, a metal door opening from across the room. Mary Ellen spun around, searching the darkness, yet afraid of what she’d find.
“We’re not alone,” Aidan said.
Just as he said the words, a low groan whispered through the large dungeon…someone hurting…someone in pain.
Mary Ellen swallowed hard. “What’s over there, Aidan? Shall I help him?”
The groan turned into a low growl that vibrated the very stone walls, stirring the stale air. Mary Ellen stumbled back into Aidan’s arms. A dog…or worse…something inhuman. Oh God, the wolf from the woods.
From the windows, a bell rang. “My friends,” a man called from above. She knew he wasn’t speaking to them, unless he had a very odd way of treating his friends. “Shall we begin the festivities?”
“I don’t suppose he means charades and cards?” she whispered.
Aidan didn’t respond, merely yanked on the chains, trying to break free. She latched onto his left wrist, digging her fingernails into the hinge of the manacle, attempting to pry it loose. The only thing that broke was her nail.
“Perhaps I can speak with them. If they know I’m related to Grayson, they might ask for a ransom.”
“They don’t want money.”
The growl across the room turned into a high-pitched cry. Mary Ellen froze, her stomach churning. Wolf or man? “Whatever it is, its coming.”
Frantic, she wrapped her hands around the chain and placed her foot against the wall, pulling. It wouldn’t budge. Aidan was stronger, stronger than any man she knew. If he couldn’t break the chains no one could. “Tis no use!”
Light burst to life, torches that lined the cell and sent shadows leaping across the stone walls momentarily blinding her. No. She didn’t understand how this could be happening. There were laws in this world, surely someone would stop the insanity. Needing the comfort of his touch, Mary Ellen slipped her fingers through Aidan’s. His hands were cold. So very cold.
Human shapes stood in windows, some men, some obviously women with their wide skirts. So many people. Ten? Fifteen? It was hard to tell. She tore her gaze away and focused on the far end of the room. Something hovered there in the shadows. A dark shape, snarling, growling, twisting, turning.