Wolf Who Loved Me (8 page)

But not far enough away for Maddie’s comfort. Why hadn’t she thrown the shawl even harder?

Maddie pushed through the trees, hoping beyond hope she could reach help before he was on her again. But he was much faster than she was, and within only a moment or two, he caught her about the waist and both of them tumbled once again to the forest floor.

“Get off me!” she demanded, as he rose above her, his head limned by the light of the moon.

“I thought you couldn’t run any farther.”

“I lied.” She squirmed beneath him, managing to slide from beneath him a bit. Mud squished against her back. He reached for her skirts, as though by constraining her legs, he thought to constrain her. Maddie kicked at Mr. Hadley with every ounce of strength she had and heard a very satisfying curse when her foot found his nose.

An inhuman growl escaped him, echoing through the night, terrifying Maddie even more than she had been. Heavens, she’d broken his nose. Would he break her now in return?

Mr. Hadley grabbed her skirts and dragged her back beneath him. “Be still!” he ordered.

She got a good glance at his face in the moonlight. His nose was most assuredly broken, as it looked crooked on his face. Between his nose and the scar on his cheek, he appeared the most fearsome creature of nightmares.

“Please just let me go home. I’ll never tell a soul anything I’ve seen.”

He scoffed. “Am I to take the word of a professed liar?”

Maddie winced. That might not have been the smartest thing to confess a moment ago. She wasn’t quite certain what to say to convince him otherwise.

He looked pained all of a sudden. “You can’t run off. Not until we sort this out.”

What was there to sort out? Maddie just wanted to wake up in her bed and forget all about this awful dream. “What do you want me to say?”

“Hush!” he ordered and clamped his hand over her mouth.

A moment later, a man broke through the trees and stood just a foot away from them. “Oh, dear God,” the man breathed.

“Renshaw?” Mr. Hadley winced. “What the devil are you doing here?”

Who in the world was Renshaw? Better yet, would he help Maddie out of this predicament?

The new fellow, Renshaw, cursed under his breath. “Ever since he met her, my life has been turned upside down. But there’s no way in hell, I’m getting drawn into
this
.”

“Beg your pardon?” Mr. Hadley asked.

Renshaw shook his head in what seemed like frustration. “Her ladyship has lost her fool mind if she thinks I’m getting involved in some madcap scheme.”

“Cait sent you?” Mr. Hadley loosened his grip on Maddie. “Why the devil would Cait send you
here
?”

Renshaw swore again. “She said you’d be in need of a driver. She didn’t say anything about needing clothes or the defiling of women.”

A driver. That’s where Maddie knew Renshaw from. He was Lord Eynsford’s driver. Why did the marchioness send a driver out to find them? How did she know they were even lost?

“The lady is hardly defiled.” Mr. Hadley frowned. “Tell me, did Cait happen to mention a destination?”

“Gretna,” the driver complained. “Certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’s made me dash across Britain as though the devil chased me.”

“Gretna?” Mr. Hadley echoed as he scratched his chin. But then a look of resignation overtook his features. He sighed heavily and nodded. “That is a very good plan, actually,” he said. Then he rose to his feet, in all his naked splendor, and reached a hand to Maddie. “Come along, my lady.”

Maddie could only gape at him, at
all
of him, standing before her. And then his words began to sink in. Gretna? Certainly he didn’t think to elope with her! “No, no, no.” She shook her head. “I’m going home. I’m not headed to Scotland.”

Without another word, Mr. Hadley bent at his waist and plucked Maddie out of the mud. Then he tossed her over his naked shoulder. “Lead on, Renshaw. Time is of the essence.”

A beleaguered sigh escaped the driver. He shook his head and then turned back toward the way he’d come through the woods.

He couldn’t take her to Scotland against her will. “Take me back to Castle Hythe!” Maddie yelled at the driver. “Do you know who I am?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t care,” Mr. Hadley remarked.

“My grandmother will have your head!” Maddie threatened. “
The
Duchess
of
Hythe
will have your head!”

“Indeed she will,” Mr. Hadley agreed, “
if
she catches us. Therefore, I suggest you drive your team as far and fast as they’ll go, Renshaw.”

The driver nodded, the cluck of his tongue the only noise as he tromped across the forest floor.

Hanging upside down, Maddie spied the glowing light she’d seen earlier. The farther they walked, the brighter the light shone until she was finally able to see that it was a lantern on the side of the Eynsford traveling coach. If she had managed to escape from Mr. Hadley, she would have run right into the arms of the coachman and still not have been any better off than she was at this moment. What a lowering thought.

The driver opened the coach door as though he was preparing to take them to a formal soiree or ball. “I’ll see you hanged for kidnapping,” Maddie vowed.

“Fast as you can,” Mr. Hadley directed to the driver as he placed Maddie on a coach bench.

“Of course. It’s always ‘fast as you can,’” the coachman complained. “There’s a travel blanket inside, sir. You probably should use it.”

Maddie glanced at Mr. Hadley’s very naked person. Certainly he didn’t think to ride anywhere with her like
that
. “You’re naked,” she blurted, as heat crept up her face. But she suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off his broad shoulders. She was quite intrigued by the light dusting of hair across his chest. And then her gaze traveled lower, to a narrow line of hair that went from his navel down to his…

“Yes, I’m naked. How very observant of you.” Mr. Hadley stepped inside the coach and settled on the opposite bench. “And if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’ll take you up on the offer your gorgeous little eyes are making.” He smirked at her from across the coach.

Maddie covered her eyes with both hands as the coach door closed. Good heavens! How in the world had she gotten herself into this situation?

She heard him moving about on the other side of the carriage as the conveyance lurched forward. What was he up to? Looking for rope to bind her wrists? Or a knife to hold to her throat? Maddie peeked at him through her fingers. The coach lantern swung outside the door, making shadows dance around the interior. Still she couldn’t clearly see what was transpiring on the opposite side. “What are you doing?”

His gaze flicked to her across the coach. “Renshaw said there was a travel blanket.” Apparently, having found it, he raised it for her inspection. “You may have it, or under the circumstances, I’ll make use of it myself, if it would make you more comfortable.”

A strangled laugh escaped Maddie’s throat. “Under the circumstances?” she echoed, incredulity lacing her words. “What circumstance would that be, Mr. Hadley? The fact that you are a wolf? The fact that you’re kidnapping me? Or the fact that we are headed to Scotland and you don’t possess a stitch of clothing? Pray tell me which circumstances you are referring to.”

Wes spread the travel blanket across his lap and let the end fall across his bare legs. What a god-awful evening. Lady Madeline couldn’t even look at him. And what was he doing? Racing for the Scottish border before her brothers could catch them. And then what? He couldn’t force her to marry him. He wouldn’t want to even if he could.

Of course he’d adored her since the first moment he saw her, three long years ago. He’d dreamed about sharing her bed since that very evening. But not like this. Not kidnapping her and eloping, for God’s sake.

But what other choice did he have? Once they were married, her future would be tied to his. She couldn’t tell anyone what he was. If she did, she’d be known as the wolf’s wife, and that would never do for a Hayburn. Cait was right, though how she knew what he needed at the exact moment he needed it was a complete mystery.

Across the carriage, Lady Madeline swiped a tear from her cheek. There was no doubt, this time, that her tears were most assuredly his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he offered lamely. But he truly was sorry.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she sat forward on her bench. “Your nose.”

What an odd response to his apology. “My nose?”

“It was crooked.” She leaned closer to him. “I-I broke it when I kicked you.”

Ah, yes, that he remembered clearly. “I suppose I deserved it.”

“Indeed.” She nodded. “But it doesn’t look crooked anymore. I was certain I broke it.”

Wes grinned despite himself. Then he wiggled his nose back and forth with his finger. “All fixed. Not to worry.”

“How is that possible?”

“One of my many talents. I heal quickly. So if you’re planning on doing me any more bodily harm, you should reconsider. It will only make me angry.”

“You heal quickly?” She sat back against the leather squabs. “What
are
you, Mr. Hadley?”

There it was: the question he’d never thought to answer, at least not from her. After all, Lycans lived by a strict code. And one of the covenants was not to reveal the nature of one’s beast to any human, with the exception of one’s mate. Which, of course, was exactly what Lady Madeline would become. He might as well confess the truth to her. Perhaps it would help her accept their fate more easily. “I’m a Lycan.”

“I beg your pardon?” She scrunched up her perfect little nose.

“A Lycan, a werewolf,” he explained.

“A werewolf,” she echoed under her breath, as if the entire idea was too much to take in, although she’d already seen him in the flesh. Or in the fur, which was even more damning.

“Yes, though we don’t like to use the term.”

“Why not?”

Honestly, Wes wasn’t certain. He shrugged. “It’s considered offensive. Used as an insult generally. But it is a bit more descriptive to laymen’s ears, and I think it’s only offensive if the person it refers to
takes
offense. I don’t mind if you call me a werewolf. In private, of course. I’m sure you understand.”

She laughed a little hysterically. “I don’t understand a thing, sir. And I’m hoping to wake in my bed in the morning and discover this was all a terrible dream.”

If she’d lanced his heart with a dagger, it would have been less painful. “I know I’m not the sort of man you were supposed to marry, but that can’t be helped, Lady Madeline.”

She frowned at him. “It’s not too late to return home, Mr. Hadley. Your secret is safe with me. I swear it.”

Wes shook his head. “If it was just me, my lady, I’m certain you could talk me into giving up my soul. But there are others I have to protect. And the only way to do that is by either killing you or marrying you. I do hope you prefer the latter as I’m not capable of the former.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for that.” She regarded him with a serious expression. “You do know my father will never give you my dowry if we elope.”

Her fortune was the last thing on Wes’ mind. Protecting his brothers, Cait, and the children ranked much higher. “We’ll manage without it,” he replied. After all, he’d survived his entire life without a fortune. He couldn’t miss what he’d never had.

“And I’ll be a social outcast.”

“You mean you’ll be a Hadley.”

“Robert and Nathaniel will kill you.”

“They can try,” he replied evenly. “I heal quickly, remember?”

“Then why…” Her voice trailed off and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Then why what?” he prodded.

After a moment she met his eyes, her green orbs tinted with uncertainty. “Never mind.”

“No, please continue.” Not knowing what she meant to ask was next to torture.

Lady Madeline squared her shoulders. “Then why do you have a scar on your cheek, if you can heal?”

Wes touched the imperfection on the side of his face. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She scoffed. “I just saw you turn from man to wolf before my very eyes. But the story behind your scar would be too much for me?”

No, but the telling wouldn’t be enjoyable. He’d never suffered such physical pain as he had the night he’d received his wound. “Have you ever heard of a vampyre?”

Lady Madeline shook her head.

Not that Wes was surprised. She had led a fairly sheltered life thus far, one in which monsters had no place. They still didn’t, Wes being the lone exception to that rule. “The telling isn’t for a lady’s ears.”

“Does Lady Eynsford know?”

Wes nodded once. Cait had helped tend his wound, not that her ministrations had countered the effects of a vampyre attack. “Someday, when we’re old and grey, I’ll tell you the whole story if you still want to know.”

“When we’re old and grey. You really do mean to marry me?”

Wes nodded once more. “There’s no other way. And come morning, when the castle knows you’re missing, it will be far better for you to have eloped than to have simply disappeared with me.” Not by much, but it was still true.

“You leave me in an awful predicament, Mr. Hadley.”

“I’m aware of that, Lady Madeline. And I’m sorry.” At least she wasn’t crying anymore. Though she still looked fairly perturbed about their situation. “I can assure you—” he began.

“You can assure me of nothing,” Madeline interrupted. “Aside from the fact that I’ve been abducted and taken to be married against my will.”

He had no choice. Didn’t she see?

“You cannot assure me that this is the best bargain in my situation.”

Bargain? Who’d said anything about a bargain?

“I always knew I’d have a loveless marriage, but this wasn’t what I had in mind,” she continued as though he wasn’t even in the carriage.

“Our marriage doesn’t have to be loveless,” he said quietly.

“I knew I’d never have love, but I had hoped for a little passion.” She continued to talk softly to herself, but he heard every word.

“What do you know of passion?” He had to ask.

“Nothing yet,” she spat back at him. “And by forcing this impromptu marriage, you’re removing my only chance for it.” She sputtered for a moment. Then she raised her gaze to his and said, “I can read, Mr. Hadley.” She sniffed. “I read a lot.”

“And this is where you found out about this overwhelming passion you seek?” He bit back his grin. He’d show her passion.

“Don’t mock me, Mr. Hadley.”

The light from the carriage lantern shifted as Renshaw turned the vehicle and the moonlight danced upon her face. That was when Wes realized that she was filthy. And wet. And she was probably cold. Oh, what a pitiful excuse for a man he was. He’d knocked her to the ground, gotten her dirty, and stolen her one desire in life, to have passion. He couldn’t fix the first two. But he could damn well work on the last.

Wes leaned forward and took her hand in his, his thumb brushing caked mud aside as he caressed the top of her hand. “I’m not mocking you, Lady Madeline.” Then he stretched out an arm and scooped her into his lap.

“What are you doing?” she protested, swatting at him like he was a pesky fly. Her hands fluttered around as though she had no idea where to put them.

“Be still,” he said as he captured those flyaway hands in a gentle grip. When she didn’t comply, he followed with, “Please?”

“You don’t have any clothes on,” she hissed at him.

“I am well aware of that fact.” In truth, he was more than aware of it. Her rosewater scent enveloped his senses as she squirmed in his lap. “But I want to show you something.”

“If you plan to show me your person, you can just forget it,” she said, covering her eyes with her hands.

Wes chuckled as he pulled her hands down and placed them on his chest. “I should like to try something, if you’ll allow it.” His heart thumped in his chest, and he felt like he’d just run a mile rather than simply hauling a lady across the coach and into his lap. He forced himself to calm for a moment. But the heavy thump of his heart continued. As did the hardening of his member beneath the lap blanket that covered him. He pushed his own desires to the side as much as he was able. “Kiss me, Lady Madeline,” he said softly.

She froze in his arms. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“So you can see what this passion is all about?” he prompted.
So, I can show you that loving you is one thing I might do well. It might be to your satisfaction, even if my purse is not.

“But…” she sputtered.

Before she could utter another syllable, Wes threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head down to his. His words were no more than a murmur against her lips. “Have you ever been kissed before?”

She shook her head slightly, her face close enough to his that he could feel the whisper of that silky skin as her lips brushed his. Now he could hear her heartbeat in his head along with his own. It beat a runaway rhythm, and Wes doubted that fear was the cause of it this time.

“Never?” Of course, someone had tried to kiss her. She’d had enough suitors.

“Never,” she confirmed. Her heartbeat grew louder and louder in his head, thumping as madly as his own pulse. Then she straightened her back and pulled away from him. He could have easily subdued her, but he wanted to kiss her. And for her to want it. “And I’m not going to start with someone like you,” she said.

Something inside Wes tripped and he forced himself to steady. “Someone like me? You mean a Lycan?”

“Well, that, too,” she said. “But I’m fated for a grand union.”

“A grand union with a huge settlement of funds and no passion whatsoever.”

“I know very little about passion, so I suspect I’ll barely miss it.” She jumped up from his lap and landed on the other side. But he couldn’t let her go that quickly. He followed and pressed her back in her seat, as he sat on his knees before her. “Must you hover over me so?” she asked. Her lips were open as she inhaled heavily. Her eyes searched his face in the dim light. He hoped she wasn’t appalled by what she saw, her eyes lingering on his scar.

“I am not one of your kind, Lady Madeline,” he began, forcing himself to stay calm.

“Well, that was obvious, even before tonight.”

He forced himself to relax, despite her bruising words. “And now I’m even less a man to you, is that it?”

“It’s not that,” she started, an appalled expression on her face, as though she’d finally realized the folly of her words.

“You think me beneath you.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. It tore at his pride. The only time he wanted to be beneath her was with her impaled on his shaft, riding him. The beast within him rose and he forced himself to settle.

She seemed to weigh her words. “I think you’d never be an acceptable match in the eyes of my family.”

“I don’t give a damn about your family. What about you?”

“What about me? I don’t even know you.”

Wes lowered his head until he hovered a mere breath from her mouth. “You could know me, if you tried.”

She opened her mouth to speak, and that was when Wes swooped in and touched his lips to hers. She froze beneath him, but she didn’t pull away. Her lips met his hesitantly. Wes tilted his head so he could fit his mouth properly against hers, and he very gently sipped at her lower lip.

The beast within him wanted to growl at her, press her against the squabs, and have his way with her. But he held back and very gently cupped her face in his hands. Her lips were questioning him as surely as any words that could have come from her mouth. Very tentatively, she arched her back and brought herself closer to him, her cold little hands landing on his naked chest.

Wes coaxed her mouth to open and very gently invaded that warm, sweet cavern. She startled for a moment, but then she reached for his shoulders and her tongue rose to meet his. She was a novice at kissing but a most willing student. He didn’t pull away until she was soft and pliant in his arms. “Was that what you imagined passion to be like?” he asked, his own voice choppy with desire.

She nodded, her mouth opening as though she wanted to say something, but no sound came out. He’d obviously affected her with that kiss. Affected her to the point where she couldn’t put her words together. A little part of him began to hope. “Is that what you’d hoped for in a marriage?”

“Yes,” she finally said. She hadn’t removed her hands from his shoulders.

“Yet you still think me beneath you?”

“I never said that,” she began. But she avoided his gaze. She still looked a little shocked by the power of that kiss. To tell the truth, so was he. “Are you going to kiss me again?” she finally asked.

“Do you want me to?”

She nodded hesitantly, as though her emotions weighed heavily against her sense of propriety.

Wes moved back to his own seat, and her body rocked forward as though there was an invisible pull between them. It was real. He was certain of it. But she wasn’t. “You want me to kiss you, but you don’t want to be my wife,” he finally said when he was settled on his side of the carriage with the lap blanket hiding the sizeable bulge she’d just provoked. “That doesn’t speak of a promising future.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want to be your wife,” she said forcefully.

Wes smiled. “Oh, good. Then you’ll be much more compliant when we reach Gretna.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to be, either. I will most definitely
not
be compliant.”