Wolfsgate Read online

  “If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” Justine’s voice rasped. “I need some air. Do carry on.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” Molly nodded at her and she and Katy returned their attention back to the linens.

  Justine grabbed her cloak, fastened on her walking boots, and unlatched the front door. A burst of cold, clean air washed over her, but did nothing to lift her spirits. She charged off through the rose garden and down the serpentine walk desperately hoping the gardens would work their magic on her as they always did. But instead of taking her time, she walked quickly, needful of the exertion, barely mindful of her surroundings which were now less than lush, having succumbed to the will of winter.

  Justine headed in the direction of the small hill at the eastern end of the property which overlooked Lady Caroline’s folly. She effortlessly climbed the hill to a secluded spot with a grove of trees and overgrown shrubbery providing camouflage from passersby. She hadn’t seen Brandon for several hours. Usually she could hear him working in the study or he’d let her know he was going out for a ride somewhere on the property. But there had been no sign or sound of him since she had left him in the dining room at their aborted breakfast.

  Justine closed her eyes and leaned back against a tree. The thick knotty branches and dried leaves wavered over her in the brisk breeze. She exhaled and turned her gaze down to the folly Lord Jeremy had built for his wife.

  The temple was meant to resemble an ancient ruin in the midst of the “wild” romantic landscape. Columns in the ancient style held aloft a pediment decorated with a vine of acanthus leaves. Vague sculpted figures pranced along the intentionally fragmented exterior stone wall, and a dark reflecting pool lay before it, adding to the atmosphere of mystery and intrigue. Thick vines of wisteria clambered over the gray washed stone giving the structure the air of a special, secret place that time had forgotten.

  She and Andrew had regularly met at that folly to take their secret early morning walks. They would end their trysts sitting on the stone bench in its interior under the perfumed shade of that wisteria, exchanging letters and sometimes a kiss, her hand curling in his. Until William had caught them. But she couldn’t think about that awful morning now.

  Her breath jammed in her chest.

  Down below Amanda hiked through the overgrown shrubs and greenery, a small velvet hat set on her loosely coifed blond hair, her fur-trimmed sapphire blue cloak fluttering in the wind. Clutching her skirts, she darted up the worn stone stairs of the temple and turned, a smile lighting her face. She reached out a gloved hand towards an approaching dark figure. Justine’s grip tightened over the smooth bark of the tree before her. Brandon joined Amanda on the steps and clasped her hand. She flung herself at him, clinging to him, and he embraced her.

  A knife ripped into Justine’s chest and tore right through her.

  “Here you are, what luck!” Charles’s clear voice reverberated off her back. “Justine?” His hand slid up her arm. “What the devil are you—?”

  She stumbled against him. His hand went to her lower back, and his front pressed against her side. He followed her gaze and muttered a curse under his breath. They both remained silent as they watched Brandon plant a kiss on Amanda’s smiling lips.

  Charles exhaled. “It’s happening.”

  Justine’s breathing grew shallow. A boulder squashed her soul and sank it to the bottom of the creek nearby.

  “I’m sorry, Justine.” Charles’s face dipped down, his cheek brushing hers. “You shouldn’t have to…”

  Justine jerked out of his arms to face him. “What do you mean ‘it’s happening?’”

  Charles’s jaw tightened. “Let’s be frank. It was only a matter of time with those two. Once he saw her again after so long apart, it must have been difficult to keep away. You were a child then, but I was there. I know the way they used to be together.”

  Justine struggled for air as Charles’s gloved hand traveled up her arm and squeezed, a gesture that signified a new reality that she wasn’t ready for; a reality without Brandon. Her cheeks burned, her stomach heaved.

  “It’s not fair, Justine, but there it is. Dammit you shouldn’t have to see this.” His gaze softened. “It doesn’t mean he does not care for you, you know.”

  Justine’s glassy eyes slid back to him. That knife continued shredding her veins, ripping as it went. “But Amanda is Amanda?” she asked, her voice low.

  “Yes,” Charles muttered as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “Of course, you don’t deserve to be lied to, but it’s the way of things.”

  His words burned right through her.

  The way of things.

  The way of things.

  “It’s destiny at work with those two.”

  “At least now you know,” Charles said.

  She blinked up at him. “Did you know? Did he tell you about this?”

  “We spoke about Amanda once, he seemed curious. Graven doesn’t say much about what’s going on in his surely fascinating brain. Then again he doesn’t have to. He’s been very focused on your sister-in-law of late.”

  “Couldn’t fight destiny,” Justine muttered, the backs of her eyes stinging.

  “No, obviously not.” Charles’s hand brushed up her arm. “Come away from here, Justine. You don’t have to watch this.”

  Deep inside she always knew Brandon could never be hers, not really. But seeing it in plain sight in the glaring light of day, seeing him offer Amanda his touch, his mouth, his tenderness, tore the gossamer fabric of feelings she had so well spun and tended deep inside her. Her throat ached, a dull thudding filled her chest.

  She would watch them together. Watch and learn her lesson.

  She pushed his hands away. “I want to see. I want to know!”

  “Justine!” Charles grabbed her arm tighter.

  “No!” She twisted away pushing at him one final time, but she could no longer see them. They had receded into the depths of the small temple, the foliage and the shadows hiding them from full view.

  “I can’t stand seeing you like this.” Charles’s voice was husky at her side. His arms slowly slid around her shoulders, his lips brushed her forehead.

  Justine’s head swam. The pressure of his body on hers was foreign, wrong. “Stop it. Let me go.” She pulled away from him. She couldn’t think. She needed to think.

  “Let me help you, dammit.”

  “Help me? How can you help me, Mr. Montclare?”

  “Come, we are good friends, you and I.” His voice softened as he tugged on her hand. His expensive honey scent drifted over her, stifling her. “I can’t stand to see you hurting like this. I am determined to do everything in my power to make it better.”

  “Make it better? How can anything make this better?”

  “You have me, you know,” Charles said. “You can lean on me.”

  Charles’s dark blond hair had been swept by the wind, his angular jaw was set. He exuded calm and focus, but she was drowning, drowning in the deepest ocean, the swirling water circled her neck, heaving her wherever it wished. There was nowhere to run and hide anymore. She was no longer the little girl who could lose herself in the green fields, the woods, or the tower. Nor could she lock herself in her room and cry herself to sleep under the covers. She was a married woman who had to face facts and get on with it.

  She glanced back at the folly. Still no sign of them, not even the edges of Amanda’s skirts nor the edges of Brandon’s boots were visible. The two of them were probably seated on that damned stone bench, their gloves removed, their cloaks hastily set aside, whispering fiery intimacies, savoring each other’s touch.

  “Charles,” her voice broke, and a tear slid down her cheek, her shoulders quaking.

  “It’s all right, love.” His thumb wiped her tear away. “I’m here for you,” he whispered. His warm lips brushed the side of her face. Her eyes jammed closed, her fingers gripped the edges of his thick wool great coat. He held her tightly against his broad chest. Justine
exhaled and opened her eyes again, releasing her hold on his coat. Charles put her hand through his arm and tugged her away from under the trees, away from the hill. “We should go. Let’s walk.”

  “Why? So they won’t see us?” She wiped any trace of wetness from her hot face.

  “No, because William is on his way here.”

  “Oh my God!” Justine’s fingers tightened around Charles’s arm.

  “I was invited for shooting at Crestdown today. Amanda announced she was going out for a walk at the last minute and disappeared. After she left William got a bug up his arse and wouldn’t sit still. He said we should forget the shooting and go see the improvements at Wolfsgate as the weather was good. He waited for Andrew to bring their dogs. I told them I’d walk ahead and meet them here.”

  “He knows. We can’t let William see them together,” Justine said. “He will go mad.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Charles muttered. With Justine’s arm firmly tucked in his, he turned them both in the direction of William and Andrew’s route. Within minutes the men were visible, their two dappled black hounds trotting in between them. “And so the curtain rises, Lady Graven. Put on your best happy face and do it quickly.”

  Justine’s brain rushed to form a plan of action. She would lead them back towards the house through the side park, avoiding the hill and the folly.

  Charles lifted a hand in greeting to his friends. Justine dropped her shoulders and pasted a smile on her lips.

  “William, Mr. Blakelock.” She bowed her head to the two men. “Good day.”

  Charles grinned. “I found Lady Justine there on the hill. We’ve had a lovely stroll waiting for the two of you.”

  “Lucky you,” said William, his focus remaining on his dogs.

  Andrew studied Justine’s face. “How are you, Lady Graven?”

  “Very well, thank you. It’s quite a delightful surprise to have such company for a change.” Her fingers flexed on Charles’s arm. Andrew’s eyes darted towards the movement. “Shall we walk, gentlemen?” Justine asked, injecting a sprightly tone to her voice. She silently urged one leg to move in front of the other.

  William threw a stick far off and tracked the two dogs eagerly racing to retrieve it for their master. “Where’s your husband?” he asked glancing over at Justine.

  “He’s about with Davidson,” Justine replied. Charles squeezed her arm.

  “Mr. Blakelock.” Justine turned to Andrew. “How do you find our countryside after so long on the continent? Did you chance to see any that pleased you more?”

  Andrew offered her a bemused smile. “I must say I found Geneva rather exceptional, Lady Justine. The Alps are truly extraordinary.”

  Justine soaked up every detail of his account of Swiss topography, every detail that took her further away from the cold harsh reality of Brandon and Amanda and what they may or may not be doing in the seclusion of that damned folly. She clung to the familiar earnest tone of Andrew’s voice and forced herself to enjoy the conversation she herself had initiated. Her breathing eventually returned to normal.

  Within a quarter of an hour, Justine and Andrew were throwing sticks for the dogs and laughing at the animals’ tumble down a short hill in their enthusiastic determination, while William and Charles talked as they scanned the property and the house from a distance.

  Andrew sprinted beside her. “Do you remember when Tiger brought us back one of father’s pheasants incredibly mangled, mangled beyond recognition, instead of the damned stick?”

  “He was just a puppy then.” Justine laughed. “And we hid in the trees, didn’t we? So your father wouldn’t find us?”

  “That was Annie’s ridiculous idea.” He threw his head back and laughed. “You and Annie in those skirts, and she nearly fell, yet she couldn’t stop laughing. Completely absurd!”

  Justine giggled as one of the dogs jumped at her side. “And there he is! What a good boy you are, dear Tiger.” Justine bent over the now fully grown Tiger, rubbing his head and stroking him under his jaw. The dog stretched his neck with a satisfied moan. Andrew threw the stick with a low grunt far to the left, and the two dogs bounded towards it. He turned back to Justine and grinned, but suddenly his eyes widened at something behind her, his body stiffening.

  Justine pivoted. Brandon and Amanda strode towards them, the dogs jumping around them. Brandon held the stick in his hand. He flung it down the hill, and the dogs leaped in the air and tore off after it, leaving their party in sudden silence.

  Justine’s eyes darted to William. His arms were folded across his chest, his gaze glued to his wife and Brandon. Amanda’s cheeks were rosy in the cold breeze, however, the radiance quickly faded from her countenance and was replaced by a sullen pout.

  “There you are! Ah, you found Amanda. Isn’t this turning into a wonderful day?” Justine barely recognized her own voice. Amanda nodded curtly at Justine, who bowed her head in return.

  “Brandon, I’ve invited everyone to ours for tea.”

  Andrew raised his chin at her, his lips twitching. She glanced at him and smiled.

  “Anything stronger on the menu?” asked William.

  “We have quite a selection, yes,” Justine replied.

  William moved his hard gaze from his wife to Justine inhaling a deep breath through his nose. “Glad to hear it.”

  Justine wiped a stray lock of her hair from her face as Charles took her arm in his once again. Brandon’s dark eyes registered the action, but she ignored his withering expression.

  “Come everyone, the dogs could use refreshment as well, I think,” Justine said. She and Charles led the way towards the house. William’s eyes settled on his wife, and Amanda flashed a brief smile at him as she stepped away from Brandon’s side and walked towards him.

  Andrew shifted his weight on his legs as his hands settled low on his hips. His cold gaze locked with Brandon’s, and he shook his head, a smirk twisting his mouth. He whistled to his dogs, and the animals bounded beside him, and without a word he left Brandon standing there on his own.

  “What the hell are you doing to me, Justine?”

  A heavy, deep voice uncoiled over her. Her body flinched, the veil of sleep tearing away from her. The warm covers were ripped away from her body, and she winced at the cold air sweeping over her. The harsh angles of Brandon’s face loomed over hers in the half dark, the jagged grooves of his scars clearly visible. His one hand plunged into the mattress at her side, the other pinned her hip down to the bed. The heat of his anger filled the room prickling her skin.

  “What is it?” Justine took in a shallow breath. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you enjoy your little tea party this afternoon?”

  She blinked up at him. “Didn’t you? I thought it was a success, especially as it hadn’t been planned ahead of time. Forgive me, I was unable to ask you before I invited everyone, but I did not know where you were.”

  “Justine—”

  “I thought it went very well. Except for William glaring at you, and you glaring at Charles the entire afternoon, of course.”

  “You don’t need my permission,” Brandon muttered. “It’s just that—”

  “I happened upon everyone in the meadow just down from the hill. Just as you seemed to have chanced upon Amanda.” Her eyes flashed up at him. “I could not be rude and turn guests from our door. What would Amanda think? We were just invited to hers for dinner. If we were to turn her and my stepbrother away for mere tea and cakes what kind of impression would that make? She is my sister-in-law after all. One does not turn away family, especially as Amanda has been making such an effort as of late. Shouldn’t I play my part and make an effort as well?”

  He exhaled. “Yes, but—”

  “Thank goodness Taggart baked lots of plum cakes early this morning. What luck, eh?”

  Brandon’s fingers dug into her flesh. “What’s come over you?”

  She disengaged her arm from his. “Must be domestic bliss.”

  His jaw hardened. �
��What the hell is going on with you and Montclare?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Always laughing together, chatting. You seem to go to him all the time.”

  Her hand clutched the sheet at her chest. “I don’t go to him.”

  “He goes to you then,” Brandon said, his hand fisting in the bedlinen. “He’s always at your side, and you don’t seem to object. In fact, you seem to welcome his attentions as you did all afternoon.”

  “He’s friendly.” Justine rubbed the sleep from her eyes in a swift movement of her hand.

  “Friendly?”

  “What I mean is he is a friend. A very attentive one, perhaps.”

  “Are you being naive on purpose now? Because I know you aren’t this foolish.”

  “Now there’s a fine compliment!” Justine shot up against the pillow as far as his grip would allow. “That was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

  “The two of you keep company in my presence over and over again!”

  “Would it be preferable if I snuck out of the house and met him in secret?”

  “Don’t toy with me, woman.”

  “I am toying with you?” Justine’s eyes bulged. “How dare you!”

  His face was inches from hers now. “Was he your lover? Was it a big act all this time that he hadn’t seen you in years? An act just for me?”

  “Are you mad?”

  “I’m trying to understand what is going on around me in my own house with my own wife no less!” The bitter tone of his voice stung.

  Her hands let go of the covers, and she pulled herself up. “I could say the same!”

  Brandon exhaled, grimacing. “Oh, Justine.” His eyes shimmered over her in the soft flickering light from the candle he must have placed on her night table.

  She hated arguing with him, hated this gulf between them. His handsomeness was twisted into a fierce scowl now, but she saw past the shadows across his face, past the menace in the harsh line of his jaw, and the glare of his scars. What she saw only caused an eruption in her chest. Justine dug her fingers into his hair pulling his face close to hers. “You are the wolf hiding in the woods howling, Brandon. You are—”