Wolfsgate Page 3

“Disappointed I actually survived the shipwreck, disappointed I did well in Jamaica. The list is endless.”

  William stared at him, his lips curling. “Oh no, I’m quite pleased, really.”

  Justine pressed her cold hands together. The facetious tone in her stepbrother’s otherwise controlled voice set her nerves on edge. She could practically hear the wheels of invention turning and clacking in William’s mind.

  “I’m sure you are pleased,” said Brandon. “Two whole years of my life, missing, gone, lost.”

  “We thought you were dead, Brandon,” Justine said. “Barely anyone survived that shipwreck.”

  “I may have survived, but I’m still confused as to the after part. I suppose you didn’t bother looking for me very hard.”

  William smirked. “Confused, eh?”

  “Justine still hasn’t explained everything.”

  “Oh?” William remarked, raising an eyebrow.

  She poured a cup of tea for herself and drank.

  A snide smile spoiled William’s handsome features. “This is all very amusing.” His hard gaze darted to Justine. She put down her tea cup with a loud clank. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Does he know?”

  “Please, William. Not like this.”

  “Know what?” Brandon asked from behind his tea cup. “What’s going on?”

  Richard laughed. “Oh, this is such fun. Pour us a drink, girl.” Justine ignored him.

  William leaned into her and pulled her chin up with a finger. “What did I promise you? You and I had an understanding, did we not? Yet you have broken that understanding in not one, but two treacherous ways,” he whispered. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  Justine’s jaw clenched. He released her, but his cold gaze remained riveted on her. “She didn’t tell you, Brandon, did she?” William’s voice was clear and controlled.

  “Let me explain it to him,” Justine said. William’s fingers flicked up at her as he moved towards Brandon. Justine’s pulse pounded. “William, please.”

  “What are the two of you on about?” Brandon exhaled settling on the edge of the sofa, stretching out his bad leg.

  Richard’s thin laughter filled the room as Justine’s lungs constricted. There was no going back now, no stopping William. Brandon had to find out sometime, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  “Ah, cousin.” William leaned an arm against the carved stone mantel and let out a small laugh. “Justine is your wife.”

  THE BLOOD DRAINED FROM JUSTINE’S FACE.

  Now it all begins.

  Brandon’s eyebrows slammed together. He tilted his head at William as if his cousin were speaking a foreign language. “What did you say?”

  “Oh, I think you heard me.” William’s eyes gleamed. “You are married to her.”

  Brandon’s dark gaze fell on Justine, and her heart banged outside her chest under its sharp severity. She lowered her head and focused on the worn hem of her dress.

  “How can I possibly be married?” Brandon asked, his voice tight.

  “You were too overwhelmed by your medicinal fog to notice,” William said.

  Brandon’s gaze darted between them. “Is this some sort of joke?”

  “I don’t joke about marriage.” William snatched Justine by the arm and threw her down at Brandon’s feet. Justine gasped, her palms smacking against the cold, hard floor. “The little stray is yours, to have and to hold until the end of your days.” She didn’t dare look up at Brandon, she only wanted to melt right through the floor.

  “No.” Brandon sat up straight, his neck stiffened. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Yes, that’s the word for it. Ridiculous!” Richard snorted. “There was a parson, a sniveling bride, several witnesses, and a special license. All done quietly and quickly at your bedside at hospital. Phht!” He snapped his fingers in the air.

  Brandon’s eyes blazed. “When?”

  “Almost two years ago, after you were found,” William answered. “We put the quill in your hand, and you signed your name as best you could. You were humming some tune at the time, staring at your bride, spittle coming out of the side of your mouth. It was quite touching.” William studied Brandon carefully, enjoying his cousin’s response immensely.

  “Why? Why would you do this?” Brandon’s voice quaked.

  “To control the estate, of course,” Richard said as if speaking to a child. “As you were lost to all the world.” He chuckled.

  “We’d found out you were alive, after months of thinking you were at the bottom of the sea. But instead, you were degenerating away in hospital in the throes of a strong restorative to help you through your severe injuries from that shipwreck,” William said. “By the time we found you, we were told you weren’t to last too much longer. Bloody hell, the state of you then. Eh, Justine?”

  “How convenient,” Brandon said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Yes, but in the meantime the estate was at a standstill,” William said.

  “And you are the only legal heir,” Richard said. “So very unfair.”

  “I want to see my father. Where is he? Has he not returned with you? Justine? You said he was with them in Edinburgh.” Brandon’s face tightened, making his scars more prominent. Justine, still on the floor before him, raised her head, tears spilling down her flushed cheeks, her lower lip trembling.

  “No,” he breathed.

  “He passed away soon after the news of your shipwreck,” Justine whispered, smoothing her hands down her skirts. She had wanted to be the one to tell him, but not like this.

  “You see, your wife here has been taking care of things in your absence on our behalf,” Richard said.

  Brandon leaned over, planting his elbows on shaky legs. A low moan escaped his chest. Justine moved towards him, her hand touching his knee. He shoved it away.

  “How?” he managed to say hoarsely, his eyes covered. “How did my father die?”

  “The doctor told us his heart had been weak for some time,” she said quietly. “He grew old before us. He wasn’t in any pain really. He simply went in his sleep one morning.” She stood up and went to the sideboard, her fingers gripping the edge of the wood.

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

  She glanced at him, and her insides crumpled. Brandon’s red, glassy eyes were positively savage. “You needed to recover first. I didn’t want to upset you. I thought—”

  Brandon’s wet, dull gaze slid to William. “So you wanted to have your way with Wolfsgate? Is there anything left?”

  “Oh, some,” William said.

  “Do you hate me that much?” Brandon’s head sank in his hands.

  “I don’t consider you, cousin. I’ve gotten on with my life. In fact, I’m a married man now. And a father.”

  Justine winced at the smug grin growing on William’s face.

  Here it comes.

  “I married Amanda Blakelock. We have a son,” William said.

  A moment passed in stunned silence. Suddenly Brandon launched himself at William, and the two of them crashed to the floor. Brandon threw a punch in William’s face, then another to his stomach. William grunted and stumbled to regain his footing, raising his hands. Fists thudded against flesh. William flung a chair at Brandon, and Brandon heaved himself out of its path by knocking over Richard.

  “Goddamn you! Get out of my house!” Brandon yelled. There was the desperate scramble of feet. Doors pulled open and slammed closed. Brandon’s labored breathing filled the otherwise silent room.

  “Justine.” Brandon stood before her, his eyes fierce, his body bent to the side. “Explain this.”

  She wiped at the wetness on her cheeks and jerked away from the sideboard. “Which part?”

  “Ah now, that is certainly rich.” He let out a bitter laugh.

  She bent over and picked his cane up from the floor then placed it on the sofa. “It’s true. We are married. Richard has the certificate to prove it.” She straightened a chair a
nd picked up cushions from the floor.

  “For God’s sake, leave it!”

  “There are no servants here anymore, Brandon. Only Molly, and she can only do so much.” She shoved the cushions back on the settee one after the other.

  “Why? Where are they?”

  “William fired them all. No ‘unnecessary expenditures’ he said.”

  “Of course, my uncle and cousin had you to do their bidding?”

  “I do what I can.” She shoved the winged armchair in its proper place.

  “I’m sure you do.” Brandon planted his hands on the sideboard and took in a deep breath.

  “They forced me into this marriage, Brandon. I had nothing to do with their deception. I’ve brought you back to fight them. You must believe me.”

  “I cannot believe all that father had is gone!” He pounded his fist on the wood. His eyes darted over the faded brocade drapes, the scratched table in between the four worn armchairs and the tired settee, and the empty shadowed wall space where three small paintings used to hang. The peeling plaster trimming the original decorative ceiling was an eyesore. Only the larger sofa, and the Persian carpet on the floor still looked respectable.

  “Abandoned and forgotten,” he said. “Their lust knows no bounds. And you let them do it, didn’t you? You helped them.” She didn’t answer. “How did you agree to this marriage farce, Justine? Why?” Brandon tilted his chin at her.

  His voice was laced with disappointment and that stung. She took in a deep breath. “Over the past several years, your uncle has become somewhat eccentric and unstable. William has never been agreeable or obliging, and your father had been in a fragile state for some time,” she said. “I have no other family, you know that. I had nowhere else to go. Once your father passed away, I was all alone. They were preparing to marry me off to someone else, when they discovered you were in hospital, sunk into oblivion. The point is William wanted control.”

  He only nodded and poured himself another drink, gulping it down. “He married Amanda? How the hell did that happen?”

  “He wooed her for some time after you had left for Jamaica, and one day she agreed. They live at Crestdown with her father and brother.” Justine chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t really know the details. Amanda and I do not share confidences. We were never close.”

  “Obviously neither were she and I,” he muttered. “And what do you get out of this, Justine?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me, answer the question.” His face was immobile, her insides shuddered under the harshness of his glare.

  “You think I wanted this? To be forced to marry you in order to let them steal from you and Wolfsgate?”

  “Answer the bloody question,” he said on a hiss. “How much did they promise you? And what is it you want of me? My name? My title? What is it?”

  “You don’t believe me then? That they forced me?”

  “Why should I?”

  Justine’s skin prickled. All the stress and fatigue of the last months pressed on her every nerve. She never imagined Brandon would believe the worst of her. “At first they had arranged to marry me to some acquaintance of theirs in London with whom they did business. An older man. Much older. Then they decided my marrying you was a better course of action, that I would be more useful to them this way.”

  “Of course you’d be more useful. As the wife to the only legal heir of Wolfsgate, you were their gateway to my fortune.” He raised his glass at her. “Mission accomplished, Lady Graven.”

  The blood roared in her head, and something snapped inside her. “Indeed. Look at me—fancy frocks, my own lady’s maid to dress me and fix my hair every day, giving parties and attending many, and this fabulous house to show off and call my own.”

  “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 pay
ing 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.