Wolfsgate (5 page)

“Enough!” His pale green eyes flashed at her.

“I am not profiting from this arrangement, Brandon.” She planted her hands on her hips and lowered her voice. “I didn’t want this for you or for me, but I had no choice.”

Brandon’s weary eyes shifted over her and then around the room like a caged animal scouting for an escape route. His right hand shook slightly. That needy compulsion gnawed at him.

Justine poured him a glass of brandy. She raised the crystal glass in his direction, and he took it from her. He gulped the liquor, his dull eyes never leaving hers. “Another,” he muttered, his voice flat. She took the glass, filled it halfway and returned it to his shaking hand. He drained it then leaned closer, his warm breath fanning her cheek. The fumes of liquor evaporated over her face.

“Why shouldn’t I just turn you out the door, eh? This very minute.” His lips hung open as if they would bare his teeth at any moment.

She held her breath. “You could.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, I could.”

“But, frankly, I’m all you have at present.”

Brandon’s chin shot up. “Who says I need anyone?”

“Look at you.”

He took in a deep breath, his jaw stiffening. He held the glass out to her. “Another.” He watched her as she poured only a little in his glass and handed it back to him. “If all is as you say, we make the perfect pair.” He saluted her with his glass. “To us then, Justine—the manipulated, the tossed off, the rejected.” He drank, but then held the glass out to her. “I think you had better have some yourself. You are going to need it, wife.”

She took the glass from him, her cold fingers grazing his warm ones. She swallowed what was left in one go, because she knew what he was thinking.

The inevitable.

Would he use
that
as punishment? His eyes glittered over her, and a shiver raced down her spine. He was considering the possibilities, wasn’t he?

“I wanted to wait and explain everything to you once you were more yourself, but—”

“I am no longer myself,” he breathed.

“But there’s more—”

“More? God no, not now.” His mouth twisted in a grimace. “Leave it. I’ve heard enough for one night. Tomorrow is sure to come, and it won’t change anything, will it?” He threw himself into the nearest armchair, let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“Brandon, please. You must hear—”

“Go, dammit.” He sighed heavily. “Leave me the hell alone.”

Evening came, but Justine was in no mood for sleep. She hadn’t even changed into her night clothes, only managed to release her hair from the pins that held it, tugging her fingers through the thick mass as she chewed on a thousand anxieties. It had all gone badly, very wrong. What had she expected though? She had to focus on the fact that she did manage to get Brandon out of that hospital, helped him get his strength back, and now he could take his place as rightful heir of Wolfsgate.

She shook her head at the memory of the wild look in Brandon’s eyes when learning of their forced marriage and of Amanda’s marriage to William. His desolation at the news of his father’s death had been brutal to witness, and a nagging fear that he would do something extreme ate at her insides.

The front door slammed, and Justine darted to the window. Brandon marched across the front lawn towards the stables, his hair whipping about his face, his cloak flying behind him.

“No, no, no!” her voice drummed in her throat. She could take one guess as to where his final destination might be.

She flew down the stairs, fastened on her boots, threw on her cloak, and ran out the door towards the stable, but she was too late. The pummeling of horse’s hooves rumbled in the distance.

“Brandon! Wait!” But the dark figure on the horse took no notice of her as he sped into the night. He had to be headed for Crestdown, Amanda’s family home where she and William resided.

She had to go after him.

Justine ran to the stables and saddled her horse. Her cold fingers pulled and secured the leather straps over the animal in the dark. Thank God she had realized from very early on that being self-sufficient was paramount to survival at Wolfsgate. Several years ago she began paying Martin, a young tenant from nearby, to tend to the horses, teach her to ride properly, and show her how to deal with a saddle. Now, she finally felt quite confident on a horse thanks to his instruction and encouragement and plenty of practice on her own.

She mounted her mare and urged the horse onwards. Once she cleared the pathway through the thick dark woods and the maze of trees that circled Crestdown’s park, Justine’s straining eyes caught sight of the rider and his powerful horse plowing ahead of her. She urged her horse forward faster. She didn’t want the inhabitants of the house to hear them and come outside. She had to get to Brandon before he stormed the front door or worse.

Crestdown was a much grander, polished, and more modern structure than Wolfsgate, which was modest in comparison. But then again, Wolfsgate was almost two hundred years older and had been built by a Graven ancestor with only a few renovations over the years. Justine slowed down her horse, slid down off the saddle, and tied her reins to the nearest tree. A rush of pure energy pumped through her, making her more determined with every quick step to get Brandon out of there.

Light glowed from a high window at the ground floor and the heavy drapes were partly open. She stole a glance up into the house. William and Amanda stood by their fireplace talking. She wore a dark dressing gown, her long golden hair spilling over her shoulders. William leaned close to his wife’s side and whispered in her ear. Amanda laughed. He grinned at her and planted kisses against her throat.

Brandon emerged from behind a tree and stood immobile watching them. She ran towards him.

“Brandon!” she whispered. He didn’t seem to notice her. His demeanor was forbidding, but it didn’t stop her from wrapping her hand around his taut bicep. A haze of misty rain shrouded over them.

“Come away, Brandon,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“The bastard.”

Justine returned her gaze to the window. William folded Amanda into his embrace, and Amanda’s neck arched up as she laughed once again. Justine’s hand tightened around Brandon’s arm as she pressed closer into him. His arm shook under her fingers.

“I had to see it for myself,” he said, his voice raspy.

“She thought you were dead. We all did. Had you been engaged to marry?”

“No, but ‘tis no matter any longer.”

“It matters to you.”

The rain drops began to fall heavier, fatter, faster. Brandon’s jaw clenched, his wet hair matted against his face. “He probably knew I was alive all along.”

“No, Brandon, we were told you were dead. William grieved for you. It was a few months later that he found out you were alive, and then the lies and deception began.”

He said nothing but continued to stare at William and Amanda. The rain drops’ persistent beating on the leaves and the grass pounded in Justine’s ears. Icy coldness seeped through her veins. She had to get him to leave here before they were seen. More importantly, before Brandon sank further into a pit of black humor or rage.

He turned to face her once again, his face ashen. “This is the life I would have had, isn’t it? This is what was expected of us: the comforts of a fine house, a fitting spouse, a child? This is what our parents planned for all of us.” His gaze fell to the ground, his scars glistening in the rain. “And what home do I have now, Justine?” His voice was rougher now. “An empty shell of an estate. No father. A wife I had no knowledge of borne from a girl I no longer seem to know. And what family I do have left is stealing from me and plotting my demise.” His chest expanded as he took in air. “All in ruins, all of it. I will destroy William. I swear it.”

“He’s not worth the effort.” Her fingers clutched at his wet cloak.

“Why not? He’s stolen everything from me.”

“No, he hasn’t. You have Wolfsgate. Hurting William won’t bring back Lord Jeremy or time lost or your full health. I beg you, Brandon. Don’t do something rash.”

“Do you think I cannot take on William?”

“I have no doubts on that score, but I don’t want you to get hurt in any way. If you concentrate on getting stronger and bringing the estate back to its full strength, that alone will destroy his pride. That is your best course of revenge.”

“You must be an expert of all things William by now.” Brandon smashed his lips together and returned his gaze to the window. “I want to make him suffer.”

Justine’s heart thudded in her chest. “Please, let’s go back to the house.
Your
house.”

“It’s odd how all this feels foreign to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Society, relations, home.” His head tilted back, and he exhaled heavily, his wet hair in slick locks around his temple. “I’m flailing in the dark here, licking my wounds like some pathetic animal. Yet it’s absurd, for I can’t even make sense of what it is I’m feeling.” His aching voice trailed off in the cold, humid air.

“Loss?” she asked settling her hands on his trembling chest.

Brandon nodded. “You, too, know loss well.” His eyes were heavy, his cold fingers tightened around hers.

She squeezed his hand. “I do, and I can tell you it will probably hurt for a long while yet. But you’re alive Brandon, and you’re healing. You must give yourself time.”

“He took time from me! Time I will never have back.”

Justine leaned into him. “Yes, he did. So better for you to get stronger and claim your rightful place at Wolfsgate. I’ll help you.”

“You cannot help me.” He released her hands from his grip. “You should stay away from me, for I am full of poison, always will be.”

“No, you aren’t. That’s over now, Brandon. That poison is out of your system. You are in control of your life again.”

“It will always control me, Justine. I can feel the need for it blistering inside my veins right now. But it’s not just the opium.” His fierce eyes pierced hers, and the tangle in her stomach twisted into a knot. “You shouldn’t look to me for anything.” His voice was rough, low.

Brandon’s severe, dark face took her breath away. It brought to mind the ghostly tales William would tell them as children of the lone black wolf who allegedly lived in the woods surrounding Wolfsgate, howling his despair into the winds of every storm. The last black wolf remaining in England was cursed to haunt the Traherne family forever.

Brandon’s ancestors had been given their lands and title by a Norman king in the twelfth century as a reward for hunting and killing as many wolves as possible. Here, in the nearby forests which bordered Wales, the wolves had been quite numerous and were a constant threat to livestock and travelers. The fearsome creatures even desecrated graves. Over the years, the Trahernes proved themselves to be worthy hunters. By King Edward I’s reign in the thirteenth century the order for the animal’s total extermination had been given, and over a hundred years later, they had become practically extinct.

William had always enjoyed telling the ominous family legend. Over the centuries, the spirit of one lone wolf had remained trapped in the woods which surrounded Wolfsgate and would appear on moonlit nights howling for his revenge on the Trahernes. No matter how many times it was told, they had always been completely absorbed by the tale. Listening to it would make Brandon unusually quiet and Justine melancholy. Only Annie, William’s sister and Justine’s stepsister, would roll her eyes and giggle.

Justine blinked. Here he was before her; her tragic, howling, lone wolf.

“I have nothing to give you.” Brandon’s long fingers gripped her face, his nostrils flaring. “Not like any normal husband should.”

She covered his hands with hers. If only it were as simple to comfort him now as it was when he was overwhelmed with fever or chills during those first days, and she had held him in bed keeping him warm. But it wasn’t simple. Now, he’d probably only push her away. It wasn’t her he wanted anyway. Wasn’t Amanda what had brought him to Crestdown in the middle of the night in the rain?

“Well, there is nothing normal about this entire situation, now is there?” she asked.

“Why the hell did you bring me back?” The words wrenched from him.

“Because you are alive and you are the heir of Wolfsgate. God’s blood, it was the right thing to do. You don’t deserve any of this.”

“And what do you want from me? Why is my return good for you?” Brandon’s jaw tightened. “Now you are saddled with a deranged, deformed husband. There has to be a reason you risked their wrath. Tell me.”

“You’re not deranged and deformed!” Her voice scraped from her aching throat. “Oh please, let’s go.”

His fingers gripped her arm. “Tell me.”

Her gaze met his. “To be free of them once and for all,” she whispered in the darkness against the pattering of the raindrops falling harder, faster. “I can bear no more.” The tension in her upper back and shoulders suddenly released. It felt good to say those words out loud at long last to someone who actually understood. Brandon closed his eyes for a moment. His hand slid up to the side of her face, and she leaned into his touch. He pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, his gaze flickering down her body.