The Marquis' Mystical Witch (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (3 page)

Leashing the wolf tight inside, he subtly stalked his prey. With his enhanced vision, he noted the dismay in her deep green eyes. Who was she?

* * * *

Thea slid in and around the people lining the dance floor of the hot and airless room. She needed a few minutes outside to regain control. Reaching the French windows, she slipped through into the cool, dark night and inhaled.

Most of the foul odors of the day had wafted off to sea, but the smell of smoke lingered. She took another deep breath, trying to absorb the quiet and peacefulness. Raising her hand toward her hair, she caught the scent of Lord Akers’ heavy cologne lingering on her gloves. She ripped them off and threw them out and away from her. She never wanted to touch them again.

How she missed the country, her home and her parents. First, her father had died from an accident on the estate, and a few months later her mother caught pneumonia and faded away. With all the confusion of her aunt and uncle moving to the estate and her own grief, eighteen months had passed since she'd visited London.

A slight movement to her right caught Thea’s attention, startling her. She stifled a scream as a tall man edged into the meager light cast across the veranda.

Dressed in black, all she saw was his white ruffled shirt. His features were hidden by the darkness. Thea found herself both intrigued and frightened. She picked up her skirts to leave.

“Forgive me.” His silky voice slid across her skin like the touch of cool satin. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak. He stepped closer. “I’ve been long in the country and am rusty in the art of casual conversation.”

She glanced from him to the doors and the light and people inside. “I understand,” she said and hesitated. Something about his stillness and the faint hint of his woodsy fragrance held her in place. “The crowd and noise is a bit overwhelming when you are used to quiet nights with only the hoot owl or whippoorwill to keep you company.”

“Am I correct in assuming your preference is for the fresh air of the countryside?”

“Most definitely, and in my little village we know each other well, which brings a certain comfort.”

He came forward, his movements graceful yet almost menacing, like a sleek cat stalking his prey. She was being ridiculous, letting her imagination overcome her common sense.

He faced her fully for the first time. The dim light, reflected from the doors behind her, cast shadows across his face, but not enough to hide the jagged scars running from forehead to chin on the right side. Only his eye and corner of his mouth remained untouched. She held back a gasp. The saint and the damned flew through her mind, perfect profile on the left and desecration on the right. The silence and emptiness around them created a small circle of intimacy, and her hand involuntarily reached up to touch his scars.

His eyes widened and brows rose, but he didn’t move a muscle.

“Does it hurt?”

“Often,” he replied, his voice almost a growl.

“Nothing can be done to help?”

“No.”

Her hand trembled when a spark of red seemed to glow briefly in his eyes. Fear brushed fleetingly across her shoulders, but ignoring the urge to turn and run she flattened her palm against the ruined side of his face. Focusing her concentration, she let the healing warmth of her hand penetrate into the tight ridges.

He towered over her. Her gaze traveled from his silky golden brown hair to his face where thick, curling eyelashes shaded his shining golden eyes. His sensuous mouth softened his appearance until she noted the strong jut of his jaw. A faint hint of stubble darkened his cheeks. His black velvet coat fit snug across wide shoulders.

Thea continued to focus her healing energy directly into his scars. His particular fragrance, which reminded her of cedar and woods, swirled around her. A sound, like a purr, disrupted her concentration, and when she moved her attention from his scars, she jerked her hand back. His eyes glowed with a fiery light. Suddenly, the realization of how very forward her behavior was and how isolated they were, swept over her. She stumbled backward out of his warm aura and hurried through the French windows into the ballroom. Her heart bounded in her chest, but she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or fascination.

If Uncle Rigby or Lord Akers had seen her, they would insist on her accepting Lord Akers’ offer immediately. Thea hid herself in the crowd of people lining the dance floor until the heat in her face cooled and her rapid heartbeat returned to normal.

* * * *

Ulric waited in the dark. Her gown fluttered behind her as she disappeared in the crowd. He touched the side of his face. The pain was gone. He'd had an impression of heat and gradually the ache subsided. How had she succeeded, where all his renowned doctors had failed?

When he was sure no one would notice his return, Ulric reentered the ballroom. The buzz of voices almost drowned out the music. Jeffrey leaned against a column near the door to the card room.

“I was beginning to think you had missed the ball,” Jeffrey said.

“I went outside for a breath of cooler air.”

“Hiding,” Jeffrey said and smiled. “I should have known.”

Ulric glanced around the dance floor, searching for the intriguing woman with the soft touch. Where had she gone? He raised his head and took a deep breath, but with so many other fragrances in the room, it was impossible to isolate that particular one.

“Hunting for someone?” Jeffrey asked, drawing his attention back to him.

“Not really,” he said, and then he spotted her. She stood beside an older woman across and to the right of them.

“Which lady has caught your attention?” Jeffrey glanced in the direction where Ulric stared.

“It’s not important. Join me in the card room?” Ulric motioned for Jeffrey to follow him.

Jeffrey shrugged. “Lead the way.”

Even playing cards, Ulric’s thoughts wandered back to the unusual occurrence on the veranda. His scars no longer ached, as they most often did.

One of the men at his table spoke up. “Your turn, Radford.”

Knowing he was too distracted to enjoy the game, Ulric put his cards down. “I’m finished.” He nodded good-bye to Jeffrey and left.

As he strolled around the ballroom, several mothers stopped him and eagerly pushed their daughters forward. Ulric felt sorry for the young girls. They tried to hide their aversion to his face, but their wide, frightened eyes revealed their true feelings. Evan had often encouraged Ulric to return to town and find a wife among them. After witnessing the palpable relief on another young lady’s face as he excused himself, he had his doubts any of them desired his attention.

He continued walking until he saw his mystery healer standing about five feet away. A younger girl, face animated and hands moving as she talked, held her attention. He noticed that while his healer listened to the girl, she also glanced several times to her left.

Lord Akers stood not far away, a predatory demeanor in his stance and gaze. Ulric had heard unsavory gossip regarding Akers and his prurient lust for young girls. After running with a wild group in his youth, many said he’d never lost his taste for vulnerable young women.

A flash of distaste crossed the face of the unknown woman when she looked at Akers. Now would be as good a time as any to find out her name and Akers’ business.

Wulf ambled nonchalantly toward the man. “Enjoying yourself?”

Startled, Akers took his eyes off his prey. “Haven’t seen you for a long time, Radford. Thought you might be dead.”

“At thirty-one?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “No. I simply prefer the country to London.”

“Guess you had to come to your sister’s ball.”

“I wanted to come.” Wulf frowned at Akers. “Jane is special.”

Akers’ attention went back to the two women talking.

“You seem interested in those ladies,” Wulf said.

“Yes, the tall, black-haired one is going to marry me.” Lord Akers smirked.

“I hadn’t heard you planned to wed again.”

Akers scowled. “I need an heir and that one pleases me.” He continued to scrutinize his future wife.

“So does she have a name or is that an insignificant detail in your plans?”

Akers grunted. “Her name is Althea.” His tone suggested Wulf had overstepped his bounds.

“She isn’t familiar to me, but then again I’ve been away from London for several years. Who is her family?”

“Her parents are dead. She’s Lord Beckett’s niece. Her father was a Viscount, but she’s no one now. A poor relative, no dowry, but I want her.”

So do I.
Wulf surprised himself by the vehemence of his desire for a woman whose name he hadn’t even known a minute ago. He tensed and the hackles on his neck rose. Clenching his fist, he managed to speak. “May I wish you both the best?” Wulf bowed and continued his walk toward the door and his escape to his study.

Her family must know the type of man Akers was. No proper family would let the man near their daughter. But perhaps Akers has fooled them. Or Akers had impressed them with his lofty title and wealth.

Ulric glanced around. He couldn’t wait to leave the loud overdressed guests behind and seek the sanctuary of his den. Diamonds sparkled around necks and fingers, and women stared at the eligible men with avarice intent. He took one last glance at Althea.

She stood beside an older man and woman, probably her aunt and uncle. Her shoulders held back and face forward, she presented herself as cool and calm amidst the clamor around her. Her black hair shined glossy in the candlelight. Too tall for many of the men, she only reached his shoulder. She was not the typical golden beauty so adored by the Ton, so few of the men took any notice of her.

For a second, she glanced his way and her captivating eyes held his gaze. He took a step toward her, then stopped. Merely looking at her stirred the beast inside to unmanageable levels. But, he’d made a decision. She was going to be his. Akers would never touch her. He left the room for the quiet of his study before the animal inside him brought out his worst behavior. He needed time to think and plan.

Wulf removed his tight coat and opened the neck to his shirt before planting himself in front of the fire. He took a puff on his pipe, enjoying the warmth and solitude. The fire crackled and flared as one of the logs burned in half.

He tried to clear his thoughts, but the memory of her pale face haunted him. He rubbed the right side of his face. The pain, as yet, had not returned. What had happened when she touched him? The evening had brought many surprises and even more questions.

When her leaf green eyes had locked with his a moment before he’d left the ballroom, he couldn’t deny or forget the anguish in their depths. His own reaction had shocked him. With his first wife, there’d never been the intense need to possess her that Althea aroused in him. If he were in the country tonight, he’d run the fields and howl to loosen the tightness in his chest. Desire swirled through his veins, creating a deep-seated need to make her his, to cherish her, and keep her safe. But would she consider herself safe if she knew about the wolf?

The warmth of his study and the pleasant silence was not enough to clear his mind of her. The man and wolf desired her and anyone who tried to come between them better beware.

He’d find a way to ask Jane or his mother more about her tomorrow. His mother always knew every tidbit of the latest gossip.

And perhaps after he slept, this desire for her would burn itself out, and he’d only be interested in how she managed to stop his pain. A low growl came up through his chest, and he clamped his hands on the arms of his chair to stop himself from going back to the dance and carrying her off.

But then again, perhaps not. A chuckle escaped him at the picture of his very proper mother’s reaction if he let himself follow through on his thoughts. He glanced at the clock. It was going to be a long night.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” Jane said and smiled at her brother. “I thought you’d be hiding at your club today.”

“I decided to join you for breakfast.” Ulric nodded to his mother on his way to the sideboard, where various breakfast dishes lined the top.

“What a pleasant surprise,” his mother said. She raised her tea cup and watched him fill his plate.

After choosing ham and eggs, he joined them around the small circular table. “I thought Jane might enjoy riding in Hyde Park later this afternoon.” He glanced at the windows where sunshine streamed through and cast ribbons of light across the shiny oak floorboards. “It does appear we will have good weather, and Jane can greet all her new beaus along the way.”

Jane blushed, her pink cheeks almost matching her gown. “How you love to tease me, brother.”

While they ate breakfast, he half listened to his mother and sister’s discussion about the previous night’s ball. His interest roused when Jane mentioned Amy Beckett.

“Do you know her family?” he asked, noticing his mother’s sharp attention.

“Why do you ask, Ulric?”

He forced a bland smile. “Curious, that’s all.”

She stared at him for a full minute. Still attractive, her few grey hairs did not show among the light blond color. Since she seldom allowed her face to show strong emotion, no lines marred her ivory skin. She held herself straight at all times and always dressed in the height of fashion.