Wolfsgate (6 page)

“You’re cold and wet,” he murmured.

“As are you.”

His lips twitched, his thumb stroked her cheek. “Did you saddle your own horse and follow me all the way here?” She only nodded, her teeth clenching against the frigid air. His cool hands smoothed the wet locks of hair from her face, and she let her head fall back slightly, letting out a sigh. He bent over her. “You mean to tell me that the girl who was once so afraid of horses can now saddle one on her own and ride in the dark of night?” Justine only grinned at him. “Christ! You
have
grown up and changed. Not too much though, I hope.” His voice had lowered, and a soft, searching look passed over his eyes for a moment. “Come on then.” He tugged on her hand and led her toward his horse. Her hand tingled within his grip. “Ride with me, we’re both too cold to go it alone.”

“You must be exhausted.”

“All of today’s excitement provided me with a natural delirium, not to mention the artificial delirium that is my norm. Although I can feel it coming down now. Go, bring your horse.”

She brought her mare over to where he stood with his animal. She opened her mouth to protest, but he swiftly lifted her up into his saddle, and then his solid frame was at her back. His arms stretched around her, his hands firmly on the reins. He leaned over and took hold of her horse’s reins, and they rode away from Crestdown in silence. Justine’s muscles tightened as she tried to hold onto the pommel without falling back onto his chest or risk falling off the horse altogether and landing in the mud.

“Lean into me.” Brandon’s lips brushed against her ear, his deep voice rumbling through her. Heat fanned her face as she adjusted herself and eased back slightly against him, his long legs pressed against hers. Brandon dipped his chin close to her face. “Justine.”

Her breath hitched at the teasing tone of his voice. She leaned her weight more fully into him, finally relaxing her muscles and nestling into the heat of his chest. The aroma of the liquor on his breath mingled with the very masculine scent of his sweat along with the musty wet leather from the reins in his hands. She breathed it in.

Is this what comfort and safety felt like?

Their horses steadily made their way towards home in the wet blackness. Justine wasn’t sure if she’d prefer the ride to end quickly or not at all.

“Are you feeling all right, ma’am?”

“Fine, Molly. Nothing another cup of tea won’t cure.” Justine pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders against the morning chill and sank back in the old chair at the large servants’ table in the center of the kitchen, staring at the steam rising from her cup. Molly bent over the breakfast tray she prepared for Brandon. She had been in service at the estate since Brandon had been a boy. After William had fired all the servants, Molly had shuffled about the large, empty manor house on her own, dusting and arranging where she was able and cooking meals with Justine’s assistance. Justine couldn’t imagine Wolfsgate without her.

Justine and Brandon had been soaked through by the time they had returned home last night. Brandon had insisted she go into the house and get warm and dry while he took care of the horses, but she had refused. They had taken care of the horses together, then ran back to the house in the driving rain hand in hand.

Once inside she had tried to help him change, but he had barked at her to leave him be, stripping off all his clothes right there in the hall to underscore his point. Justine had bolted up the stairs to her room.

She swallowed some more tea and stared at the fire roaring in the kitchen hearth. She knew that as the official Lady of the house she should be sitting in the formal dining room having her breakfast along with the Lord of said house, but she couldn’t bring herself to break some familiar habits. At least not yet. The informal kitchen was warm, cozy and safe to her.

William and Richard had liked the fact that she had stopped joining them for most meals. They had rarely deigned to step foot in the kitchen, so it had become her retreat over the years, and she found she actually enjoyed helping Molly with the household chores. She had learned a variety of new things about managing a house under her tutelage and could even bake bread herself. Justine smirked at the thought of her mother’s certain horror at such a scene.

Brandon had spent the night in the parlor. At one point she’d heard him walking about, cursing, breaking glass, then silence. She had gone to her door, but she stopped herself from opening it. He needed to be alone, and the last thing she wanted to do was to pressure him in any way. So she climbed back into her bed. He was grieving the loss of his father on top of coping with all the lies and betrayals by members of his own family.

Today would be a new opportunity, a new start between them, wouldn’t it? However, she had to brace herself for more of his bitterness and mistrust.

“Why did you not tell me? Why did you hide it from me?”

The pain in his eyes when he learned of his father’s death haunted her still. She hated having to hide anything from him.

“There you are!” Richard’s thin raspy voice cut through her musings. “Where have you been, Lady of the Manor?” Her stepfather’s bony finger poked at her shoulder, his body wavered, and his eyes were red. “I can’t get a decent meal in this house now that your husband is home? When I call you, I expect you to come at once. Imagine, I had to come after you in the kitchen of all places.”

“There are more important things that need attending to today than your stomach, sir,” she said.

“Ah, looking after your Lord and Master, are ye? Giving your husband special attention? You best think of something fast, sweet pea, something more elaborate than a breakfast tray, before he throws you out the door. Like what’s between your legs, eh?” Richard laughed.

Justine’s face heated. He leaned in closer to her. “Ah, what’s this? Tsk, tsk. Was it not to your liking?” He let out another shriek of laughter. “Or was there no wedding night still after all this time? Not up for the task, was he?” Richard cackled in her ear, and she turned her face away from the sour smell of his breath. The old familiar pressure closed in on her lungs and the bile rose in the back of her throat. “You best get ready for it, child.” He pinched her shoulder and her body flinched. “You’re a married woman now. You have responsibilities.”

“Leave her alone, old man,” a deep voice boomed through the kitchen.

Justine’s eyes widened. Brandon stood in the doorway, his face stony, his body rigid. Richard cowered a few steps back and stumbled on his dressing gown.

“Ah, there is the fortunate bridegroom,” Richard said. “Not satisfied, eh my boy? Come for breakfast, have you?” Richard tittered and flopped his hand back in Justine’s direction, losing his balance. He gripped a chair to steady himself. “Here’s your wife, ready and willing.”

Brandon’s eyes blazed, and he didn’t move a muscle, yet the room filled with his anger. “I want you out of my house, Uncle. I will have you delivered to your son within the hour, so pack your belongings. Do you understand me?”

Molly and Justine shared a quick glance.

“What?” Richard spluttered through rubbery lips, studying Brandon as if he remembered finally who his nephew was.

“And I want that marriage document before you go, do you hear?”

“Oh. That.” Richard’s eyes sunk into his face once more.

“Molly, take my uncle to his room, help him pack up his belongings as he is leaving us today,” said Brandon. “And get the marriage certificate from him.”

“Yes, sir.” Molly nodded at her master, a slight smile etched on her face. She took Richard by the arm and scooted him out of the kitchen.

Brandon’s sober gaze fell on Justine. Steam rose from her every pore. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, a hand going to her throat. “T’was nothing.”

“Not nothing, Justine. That was ugly.” He studied her, but she turned her burning face away from him. He let out a heavy sigh and smirked. “Have no fear. The true Master of Wolfsgate is back now, and everything is changing for the better.”

A small smile lit her face. “And so it is.”

“Such faith.” Brandon ran his fingers through his unkempt hair.

Justine went to the side table. “Molly just prepared this tray for you. I’ll bring it into the dining room.”

“I don’t want anything.” He straightened himself up and leaned on his cane again. “Bring me the marriage document and please arrange for Uncle Richard to be taken to William’s.” He turned and left the room.

Justine deposited the tray back on the table. This was going to be difficult.

Over an hour later Richard left in a clamor of shouting and whining protestations. Justine heaved a sigh of relief the moment Martin picked up the reins of the old carriage loaded with Richard’s trunks and led the horses and Richard away from the house. She could only imagine the scene that would take place at Amanda and William’s house upon Richard’s surprise arrival. She truly hoped Amanda enjoyed her father-in-law’s singular company.

She leaned her forehead against the cool pane of leaded glass. Her stepfather and stepbrother no longer had any control over her. Brandon was reviewing their marriage document this very moment confirming its legitimacy. She had to speak with him. She quit her room and went down the long stone staircase.

Justine held her breath as she knocked on the parlor door. No response. She pushed it open slowly. The marriage document lay on the worn settee, and Brandon was slumped in the large seat of the bay window which faced his mother’s rose garden. His eyes were closed, his legs stretched out before him. The brocade curtains were open and warm light streamed over his figure. His shirt was untied at the neck and untucked from his breeches. The long, sturdy column of his throat glistened with perspiration.

The room was stifling. Justine leaned over him, raised herself on her toes, and unhitched the latch, pushing open the casement window. A gust of fresh air washed over her. Brandon’s eyes flashed open. He glared at her, his lips set into a firm line.

“Sorry. You need fresh air,” she said quietly. “Richard’s just left.”

He grabbed her arm pulling her towards him, and her hand instinctively flew out landing on his knee to keep herself from falling on him. He clasped her fingers, his eyes smoldering over her. “Where’s your wedding ring now, Lady Graven?”

“I-I used my mother’s old ring for the trip to London.”

“What a fine masquerade,” he muttered. He released her and she stumbled back. Brandon turned his head toward the window again glaring at the roses and the colored shrubbery and hedges that created the serpentine walk. His head fell back against the wood panelling, the lines of his face tightening. He was angry. Angry they were married, angry he had been cheated out of so much.

Angry at her.

Justine slipped from the room and closed the door behind her.

JUSTINE DIDN’T SEE BRANDON AGAIN FOR TWO DAYS
. She had Molly check on him and leave him trays of food, but they would be left mostly untouched. He did order her to fetch him more liquor though.

“So be it,” she muttered to herself, packing away another empty brandy bottle in the kitchen. He was being stubborn and wallowing in self-pity, she could most certainly understand it. But what gnawed at her was that he likely wouldn’t be able to survive this emotional mire without desiring the opium once more. All this liquor was certainly not helping.

Justine wiped her hands on her long apron which she wore over her oldest dimity skirts. Today she planned on tackling the kitchen garden which she had abandoned for her trip to London and its aftermath. She went through the back door of the kitchen and surveyed the overgrown, wild stringy mess. The reedy weeds seemed to mock her as they shook in the breeze. She wrapped her thick, wavy hair in her large kerchief keeping it out of her way and grabbed her shovel digging into the ground determined to do battle with the stubborn roots. She shoveled, hoed, and pulled at the offending weeds until the entire garden was clear.

Hours later she was tired and sore, but she knew it hadn’t really helped. She didn’t feel that pleasure of accomplishment as she usually did when doing such work. Justine arranged her tools on the side of the low garden wall. She didn’t want to go back into the house and face Brandon, or not face him, in fact.