The Marquis' Mystical Witch (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (40 page)

BOOK: The Marquis' Mystical Witch (BookStrand Publishing Romance)
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Wulf began to tell her he was sorry he’d disappointed her, but he caught a fleeting expression of concern. “Due to the good care of Bailey and my wife, I am recovering quite fine.” His eyes twinkled at Thea, and she flushed.

His mother glanced across the bed to Thea. “We have you to thank.”

“Not only me. Bailey has been invaluable and several others of our staff have assisted us in many ways,” Thea said.

Lady Radford looked from her son to her daughter-in-law. “Is there something you are not telling me?

“Sit down, Mother.” Wulf glanced at the door. “Where is Jane?”

"I encouraged Lord Stanley, who came with us, to keep her downstairs until I assessed the situation.”

“Very good. Between my wife and me, we have ended the curse.”

“What? How?” His mother’s hand went to her throat. “How can you be sure?”

“It is too involved a tale for now, but we are convinced and, we are happy to announce my wife is increasing.” Wulf put up his hand before his mother asked more questions. “You will have to trust that we are right.”

Lady Radford’s hands trembled and fluttered in the air, not at all like the composed, rigid woman he knew. Tears came to her eyes. She rose and walked around to Thea.

“You have given us the greatest gift and now a child will once again be born in this house. Thank you. I hope you can forgive my earlier behavior toward you.”

Tears ran down Thea’s face and she reached out to hug her mother-in-law.

Lady Radford blinked rapidly as tears came into her eyes.

Wulf glanced at Bailey and shrugged. “I have never known what to do with crying women. You had best call Jane and Elvie to help us.”

Smiling and agreeing, Bailey hurried out of the door.

Soon the room filled with family. Wulf lay back and let them all fuss around him. He couldn't wait to be alone again with Thea. Her face glowed with happiness and the radiance filled the room. The others laughed and talked, the women hugging and kissing.

His spirit felt lighter. He knew the curse was gone. His body floated with buoyancy. No inner darkness remained. Light radiated through him and filled him with joy.

He moved his head, urging Thea to his side. “Tell them I am weak and tired and you insist I must rest.”

“You overdid it earlier this morning I suppose,” she said with mock sternness.

“I want to overdo some more after they leave.”

“I am afraid that would not be wise. I must be a proper hostess and be sure our guests are taken care of, and you are right, you must rest.”

He pouted, and she laughed. Turning to their guests, she urged them to go downstairs and she would join them soon. “Ulric is weak and needs to sleep.” She rubbed his forehead. “We do not want him to have a relapse.”

“Ulric,” Wulf growled after the others left.

“Ulric is your proper name, my love, and your mother is right. A man’s friends might use such a name as Wulf, but for your wife to do so denotes a certain lack of respect.” She leaned down to kiss him after the room emptied.

“Mother will be happy with your decision to call me by my proper name. You may do so if you wish in public." He reached up pulling her mouth to his. His tongue swept past her lips and inside to the silky softness. After giving her a thoroughly satisfying kiss, his eyes glinted at her.

“In private, I am still Wulf.” He breathed in her honeysuckle and rose scent. “I will always hunger for you.” His hand covered her breast as he kissed her again.

She pulled back with reluctance. “And I you, but now I must go downstairs to our guests. Sleep and later tonight we can resume this fascinating conversation.”

He watched her perky step and the flounce of her enticing bottom on her way out the door. The rest of his life would not be long enough to love his witch.

Epilogue

Four years later

 

Wulf paced his study. Jeffrey stood nearby smoking a cheroot and holding a glass of brandy.

“This is your third time, Wulf. I would think you'd be used to this by now.”

A shrill scream rang through the house. “Never. Every time I swear this is the last, but my memory is short.”

Jeffrey chuckled and started to speak when a whirling cloud of youthful energy slammed the study door open and barreled across the room to wrap his arms around his father’s legs.

“I thought Aunt Jane took you on a picnic,” Wulf said as he leaned down and picked up his two-year-old son.

Jane came behind, breathless. “He was with us and just got up and started running to the house. Sorry. Come with me, Daniel. Your sister, Hannah, and your cousin want to eat cook’s chocolate pudding.”

Daniel’s eyes brightened. Wulf looked at Jane. “He didn’t hear the noise from above?”

Jane shook her head no. “I was right behind him. All is well.” She motioned to Daniel. He looked up at his father.

“Go with Aunt Jane. You and I will go to the creek later and catch a fish.”

“Fish, fish,” Daniel chanted and took his aunt’s hand. He gazed back at his father as Jane encouraged him to leave the room. “Fish?”

“I promise, this afternoon.” Wulf waved goodbye to his son. “Well, thank goodness for pudding and fishing.” Wulf grinned.

“A happy family man, very different from the Wulf I once knew,” Jeffrey commented.

Wulf stood at the window, watching his three-year-old daughter who had his coloring and his son, with Thea’s black hair and green eyes, run across the field toward their picnic area. He never admitted even to Thea how relieved he was to have a daughter first, just in case the old curse could somehow affect a son conceived before the curse ended.

His home rang with noise and laughter. Family came to visit, almost too often, he thought. His mother and Jane arrived last week to help. Jane’s two-year-old son followed Daniel, also looking for the pudding, he supposed.

"Where is Elvie during this most important time? Jeffrey asked.

Wulf turned around. "She's gone to Europe with a very reliable chaperone. She hoped to be back by now, but since this child of ours decided to come early, she won't be here until he's a week old."

A piercing scream came from upstairs and had Wulf moving toward the door. "I’d best go up and see how things are progressing.”

“Watch for flying missiles from your lady,” Jeffrey joked as Wulf rushed out.

Heart beating fast, Wulf charged into their room. They’d both decided they had no need for separate bedrooms. The silence frightened him.

He came to an abrupt stop at the bedside just as the nurse placed a small bundle into Thea's arms. Her lovely face was wet with perspiration and her long, wavy black hair damp from her exertion.

“It is about time you came to greet our new son,” she said. She kissed the tiny baby and smiling handed him to Wulf.

Tiny fists held onto the edge of the blanket and bright golden eyes stared hard at his father. His little forehead wrinkled in a frown and the rosebud mouth opened, letting out an indignant cry.

Wulf smiled and rocked him. “I know you prefer your pretty mama, but you might as well get used to this old, scarred face because I am going to love you and discipline you and…” He raised his head, staring across at his wife. “You know this one is going to give us many headaches.”

“I know he is much like his father. Demanding, strong and lovable, but I have had practice with you so I’m up to the challenge.”

Wulf’s laugh rang out loud and clear. The baby in his arms howled with anger, the golden eyes shiny with tears. Wulf brushed a kiss across his new son’s forehead and went to Thea to give her a more robust kiss.

“He is hungry, my love, and so am I.”

“Get out of my room,” Thea shouted in mock dismay. “I can see you already thinking that Hannah needs a sister. Out, now.”

After handing her the baby, Wulf left and went back downstairs. He went to the side table in his study and poured two new glasses of brandy.

“A toast, Jeffrey.” He handed one glass to his friend and raised his own. “To the newest member of the Radford clan, Ulric Jeffrey Hamlin.” Wulf savored the brandy, swirling the liquid around in his mouth. Like his life, it tasted of warmth, sweetness, and just enough tartness to make it interesting.

 

THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

For as long as I can remember I wanted to write and have, a book of mine published. Sometimes life gets in the way, or we let it.

I grew up in the south and lived with an aunt and uncle from the time I was ten until I graduated from high school. Both my aunt and uncle worked long hours, giving me a lot of time alone. With my love of reading and an active imagination, I was never bored.

I wrote my first story at eleven or twelve years old and read it to my neighborhood friends. They, of course, thought it was wonderful. My story did not have a happy ending. My heroine died a tragic death. I was in my melodramatic phase.

My first published work was a mother’s day poem. The local newspaper had a contest between the high schools. I won. The prize was ten dollars and having my poem printed in the Sunday paper on Mother’s Day. I won’t say what year.

My aunt was a very practical woman and had worked all her life. You did not write for a career, you studied and got a sensible job that kept a roof over your head and food in your stomach.

My first career was nursing. During my mid life crisis, I went back to school and earned my master’s degree in social work. These were good choices, but in the back of my mind, those characters kept knocking on the door and reminding me of my dream job, writing.

I did write during those years, everything from poems, short stories, and longer love stories. They filled my desk drawers and the bottom of my closet.

With three grown children, three grandchildren, a very supportive husband and many friends encouragement I finally got serious. I decided in 2004 that it was time to commit to my dream, make some goals and start my new career. They do say the third times the charm.

My first goals: Join a writer’s group and a critique group, attend a writer’s conference, and oh yes, write a book.

My first big shock: Not everyone thought I was a great writer. Like any other career you had to study, read, take classes, and write, write, write. Who would know following your passion could be so much work? But also so much fun.

Also by Rachel McNeely

 

Sandstone Legacy

The Duke’s Dilemma

Sweet Revenge

 

 

 

 

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