Wolfsgate Read online

  The wind rushed through the trees leaving a howl behind. Chunks of snow fell on her lifeless body, and he brushed them away savagely like a creature possessed, preserving its most cherished…

  He exploded.

  “Justine!”

  “Lady Graven’s condition is serious. She has a broken arm, several broken ribs, and there are bruises all over her back and legs. I cannot rule out the possibility of serious injury to her back. Fortunately, you were careful in moving her to the Shaw’s cottage in their cart and not on your horse, but I cannot yet be exact as to the severity of her injuries.”

  “Why has she not woken up yet?” Brandon’s voice was lifeless, his eyes locked on Justine’s still form tucked in Mrs. Shaw’s bed.

  “That is another point of concern. If her head knocked against that tree or a frozen rock on the ground hidden by the snow, she may have an internal injury in the head. There is some swelling, but it is not over a large area, thankfully. Neither her neck nor her spine broke, and that in itself is a miracle. There is something else, my lord.” Dr. Langham tilted his head at Brandon and moved deeper into the room, further away from the tenants hovering in the Shaw’s small doorway.

  Brandon’s weary eyes stung with a thousand needle-pricking pains. His legs filled with molten lead as he followed the doctor. He held his breath and leaned his hands on the back of a chair bracing himself. “Tell me. Be done with it.”

  “Lady Graven is with child.”

  That molten lead now poured through him incinerating every nerve ending in his body. Words were impossible.

  “There was some bleeding,” Dr. Langham continued.

  “Bleeding?”

  “Yes, but I cannot be sure if it is enough to constitute alarm. We can only wait and see. I am sorry. Pray she awakens. Pray for that,” the doctor said. “I will give Mrs. Shaw instruction as to her care. This is most important, sir—Lady Graven must not be moved. Do not under any circumstances, attempt to take her back to Wolfsgate. She must remain here in this bed until she awakens and we know better what her injuries are. Do you understand?”

  Brandon nodded. His hand shot out and gripped the doctor’s arm. Dr. Langham’s gaze met his. “A child?” Brandon rasped.

  Langham put his hand over Brandon’s, a slight smile curved the edges of his thin lips. “Yes, my boy. A child.”

  Brandon sank into the rickety chair by his wife’s bedside. Her face was pale, her body unbelievably still except for a gentle inhalation and exhalation of breath. Her broken left arm was bound, her slender fingers peeking through the binding. Brandon touched the quilted blanket at her chest, his shaky hand traveling down to her belly and resting there.

  “A child,” he whispered. The word sounded foreign to his ears as he released it from his lips. Had she known? Deep inside he was thrilled, wild with joy, but he bound that joy tightly with thick iron chains and shoved the weighty mass down into the dark pit of his being. He let the numbness overtake him once more. Yes, only that for now. Otherwise, he would fly into an explosive rage or shatter into a million pieces, he wasn’t sure which.

  His beautiful Justine hovered between life and death in a musty dark room in a tenant’s cottage. He covered his eyes with his cold hands as the raw truth seeped through him. The door creaked open, and his body flinched.

  “Pardon, your Lordship, I’ve brought you some fresh tea,” came Mrs. Shaw’s careful voice. “Martin’s here, sir. He has something to tell ye. Says it’s urgent.”

  Heat charged through his body. Martin?

  The woman came to his side. “Sir?”

  Gripping his cane, Brandon jerked up from the chair. “Have the boys brought the extra wood from Wolfsgate for your fires?”

  “They have, sir.” The older woman clasped her hands together. “I’ll keep her warm, don’t you fret now. I won’t leave my lady alone. Doctor’s told me all I need to do. If there’s any change in her, I’ll send for ye. Lizzie is on her way, as well.”

  With a final glance at his sleeping wife, Brandon quit the room. The ache in his knee shot through his thigh and grimacing he leaned on the damned cane. He closed the door behind him, and his tight gaze leveled on Martin.

  He hated that Martin was doing anything for Justine.

  He hated him.

  Martin’s posture was stiff, his lips pressed together.

  “How dare you even show your face here. How dare you!” Brandon’s voice thundered. “Was she coming to you?”

  Martin’s eyes flared. “What are on about?” He glared at him, raising his chin. “I’m here, sir, ‘cause I found her saddle. It’s been cut.”

  Brandon froze. “Cut?”

  “And a pin were inserted to weigh down on the horse, more like so’ her ladyship wouldn’t be able to control the animal. Found the wound on the horse to match.” Martin’s hands tensed at his sides as he took a step closer toward Brandon. “Simms is gone. He must’ve been ready and waiting in the stables and saddled the horse for her ladyship. I wasn’t there, was I?”

  A muscle in Brandon’s jaw pulsed.

  Martin held out a crumpled paper. “I found this in the stable.” Brandon snatched it. His eyes poured over a badly scribbled note insisting Lady Graven come to a tenant’s cottage to see to an ill baby.

  “There is no ill babe anywhere,” Martin said through gritted teeth. ‘Twas all a fiction to draw her out, to have her ride in the snow at a gallop and make that saddle tear apart and twist her.”

  Brandon’s insides hardened. “Do we know where that bastard is?”

  “Simms has disappeared. Mr. Davidson’s looking, asking about in the village. Dunno more.” Martin’s face was flushed, his eyes turbulent. “Someone else put him up to it, sir.”

  Brandon’s brow creased over the crumpled note in his hand. His thumb stroked the paper. Dark ivory, the same rag texture. He had received love letters on this very same paper a hundred years ago and another just recently, hadn’t he?

  “‘Tis from Crestdown, in’it?” Martin’s insistent voice pounded in his head. Brandon crushed the paper between his hands. “There’s only one person who’s ever hurt her, only one,” Martin seethed, his eyes pooled in black liquid.

  Brandon’s muscles strained at the raw pain in Martin’s voice, his stinging gaze held the young man’s. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I know, sir,” Martin said slowly, his eyes wide. “I was there.”

  Brandon’s cane clattered to the floor as he snapped up Martin’s shirt collar in his fists and held him fast. His heart pounded against his ribs. “What do you know, you shit?”

  “The evil thing her stepbrother did to her.” Martin’s haunted voice hung in the stale air between them.

  The grim loathing on the young man’s face seared Brandon like a burning slap. “Why should I believe anything you have to say?”

  “I was there in your grand house. I heard it all. I saw.” Martin spewed the words as if releasing fire from his soul. “Do you really not know the truth, Lord Graven?”

  “What truth, damn you?”

  Martin smirked. “All you fine people so busy hiding the truth, running’ from it. You’re all still flesh and bone like the rest of us, aren’t ye?”

  Brandon shook him by the collar. “Tell me.”

  “’Twas two years ago. I were in the kitchen at Wolfsgate. Molly was givin’ me apples to bring home to the boys, and that’s when I heard the carrying on. I heard them fighting in the study. Them both yelling at her, her crying. I rushed out to the hall. Saw her run up the stairs. Then he chased after her.”

  Brandon’s throat stung. He shoved Martin against the wall, his face inches from the lad’s. “Who? Who chased her?”

  “Her stepbrother, your fine cousin.” Martin’s dark eyes locked on Brandon. “I went up a few stairs. The door slammed behind them, him yelling at her more. Then the door broke open, and I heard feet running, heavier steps after, then a hard slap, and a crash on the floor. I ran into the room at the top of the
stairs, leaving the door open. She was sobbing, pleading with him. Suddenly she burst down the hall runnin’, she musta gotten away from him for a moment. But she tripped on that bloody carpet and fell. I heard a rip, him pullin’ at her dress. He was muttering some shite, mocking her. And then came that God awful crop lashing on her flesh.”

  “No,” Brandon exhaled.

  “I heard it.” Martin averted his gaze. “But it’s her scream I’ll never forget. Full of shock, full of sadness. He kept jeering on at her. Then suddenly his voice went all soft, and he were calling her Tina, telling her that he only wanted to take care of her, and of you, but she wouldn’t let him. That she had to do what he wanted.”

  Brandon’s body shook. “No…”

  “There was all this strange whispering and sobbin’. All I could hear was her begging him, saying ‘no, please no,’ over and over.” Martin choked on a breath and lifted his smoldering black eyes to Brandon’s. “She knew what was comin’.”

  Brandon’s pulse jammed in his neck. His knees locked. He pressed harder against Martin.

  “Then there was another scream.” Martin’s wet eyes glinted in the shadows of the room. “But this one was different, ‘twas full of terror, full of pain.”

  Brandon’s grip on Martin tightened, his knuckles white. “No!”

  Martin let out a hiss of air. “Yes, Lord Graven, from my pathetic hiding place I heard your cousin rutting over her like a pig.”

  Brandon’s vision dissolved into a blur.

  “Then she were silent. T’was so hideous that silence,” Martin breathed.

  A sharp slash pierced Brandon’s gut ripping it wide open. “No!” he roared, his head falling against Martin’s chest.

  William.

  Always so clever. Spinning lies from threads of truth. He had woven his tales and ensnared Brandon into believing them all.

  “We understand each other, don’t we, Tina?”

  Nausea roiled in his gut. How could he not have seen it? Her nightmares, her initial hesitation in their bed, and then her sudden eagerness to experience it all, even his aggressiveness, as if she wanted to only plunge ahead and forget. Forget something awful, something she absolutely needed to forget that had been branded onto her spirit and onto her body.

  His speeding brain called up her constant anxiousness over William’s retaliation, her tight-lipped patience with his own jealous rants over Andrew and Charles and Martin. She had swallowed it all in order to keep the bloody peace, and thus she had sacrificed her true, fine character first to Andrew and then to Brandon, letting them think ill of her; that she was less than she actually was.

  Brandon’s brain flipped through all the times he had seen William and Justine together before. Both of them always remained cool and detached, keeping out of each other’s way except for basic social pleasantries with barely a word spoken or a look exchanged unless necessary. If words were exchanged, they were brittle ones. Days ago William had spoken to her in an eerie way, using her nickname, even touching her, yet she had not seemed shocked nor surprised.

  This was a secret William constantly used against her to his advantage, holding it over her head like a sword twisting it this way and that.

  “After he were done with her, he ran down the stairs,” Martin said. “But he heard me open the door. He stopped and came at me. Like a demon he was, his eyes wild and wet with tears, his face red with scratches. He said if I told he’d come after me and throw Auntie Keren and the boys out of their home, leave them with nothing. And he’d tell everyone I had done it to her. Oh, I didn’t care about meself, but I couldn’t put the Shaws in danger. I was enough of a burden to ‘em. And I couldn’t have her be so humiliated. So, I agreed,” he spit out. “God forgive me, I agreed.” He let out a wail. “Who would’ve believed me anyway? Who would ever believe the damned truth, eh?” Martin let out a bitter laugh as Brandon’s body sagged, his arms pushing against Martin’s shoulders.

  “Out the front door, the demon ran,” he continued. “She was lying on the floor of that hallway weepin’ silently. I hid and watched her. I knew she wouldn’t want me to see her that way. And all I wanted to do was take her from that house…” Martin’s breath hitched. He swallowed hard and gulped in air.

  “After he’d gone, she sat up slowly, crawled into her room, and locked the door behind her. Didn’t come out for days. I rolled up that bloody carpet and burned it, I did. Didn’t want her remembering every time she had to see it or tread on it. She noticed it missing later, but never said a thing about it, and neither did I.” Martin’s watery eyes drifted beyond the room. He sniffed shaking his head slightly. “I couldn’t protect her then, and I didn’t protect her now.”

  “It’s my duty to protect her,” Brandon said. “Mine.” He shoved at Martin’s shoulders.

  “You failed, didn’t you?” Martin raised his voice. “I failed. Won’t happen again, though, never again. No.”

  “He told me that you and she had been together—”

  “Of course, he did! And you believed him?” Martin’s body bucked against Brandon’s hold. “She’s been nothing but a kind, good friend to me. I adore her! You don’t deserve her.” Martin’s eyes boiled.

  Brandon released his hold on Martin and his head sank in his hands. Justine had taken on the weight of his world on her delicate shoulders and continued to suffer a long hell for it. The room swirled around him, he stumbled against the wall. William had made her lie to Andrew for his own benefit and had done it again when he forced her to lie to Brandon about Martin. He continually punished her, made her pay a heavy price for protecting him over an over again.

  Was that why when Justine had learned that Brandon was still alive in hospital, she brought him back to Wolfsgate to be her real husband? Not only to save his life and fortune, but to save herself from William as well. Had she feared that he would come back for more? Find a new way to humiliate her?

  Brandon steadied himself against the wall. He wouldn’t let that happen. She hadn’t left him. Their life together was real, she had been the one who first chose to make it real. He raised his head and gulped in air.

  There was no Wolfsgate without Justine.

  There was no him without her.

  He must fight for her. Fight for them both.

  “COME SIR, SHE’S AWAKENED!”

  Mrs. Shaw, her face flushed, stood at the door. Brandon brushed past her and Martin to his wife’s bedside. Justine’s eyes were open, a soft moan escaped her lips.

  “Justine?” Brandon leaned over her and put a hand against her face. Her eyes slowly moved towards his voice. “I’m right here darling, you’re safe. You’re at Mrs. Shaw’s cottage. You fell off your horse. I found you and brought you here.”

  “It hurts,” she whispered.

  “Where, love?”

  Her face tensed. “Everywhere.”

  Brandon bit the inside of his cheek to stem the fury in his blood. Thank God she was awake and talking with him, but she was so weak, and he was helpless to do anything about it. She needed him now. She needed him to be strong and sensible. He swallowed past the dry rocks lodged in his throat. “Dr. Langham needs to know where you hurt in order to help you. Your left arm is broken, but he set and bound it, so have a care.”

  Her round eyes darted down to her arm, her pale bottom lip trembled. She was going to be fine. She had to be. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. He had so much to make up for. Mrs. Shaw entered the room and raised the blanket from the bottom of the bed. Her gaze darted to Brandon for a moment. He nodded at her. “Can you wiggle your toes for me, Lady Graven?” Mrs. Shaw asked in a soothing tone.

  “Toes?”

  Brandon gently tucked her hand in his. “Yes, love.”

  A smile illuminated Mrs. Shaw’s face. “Aw, that’s nice now.” She nodded at Brandon as she smoothed the blanket over Justine’s legs again.

  “Send Martin to fetch Langham, Mrs. Shaw. He’ll want to see her right away.”

  “Yes, milord.”


  Warmth flooded Brandon’s chest easing his rigid limbs and joints. He planted a kiss on Justine’s hand. “You’re doing fine, my love.” Brandon forced his lips to form a slight smile. “It’s good to see your eyes open, Jus. I can’t tell you how I missed them, those beautiful velvet eyes.”

  “You’re worried,” she whispered.

  “I’m relieved. I have you back,” he said through the needles in his throat. He leaned over her and touched his lips to her mouth. “That’s better,” he murmured.

  “Brandon…”

  “I thought…I thought for a time that you were gone, Jus. First I thought you had left me. Half your clothes were gone, your ring.”

  “Lizzie’s been in a fit of cleaning and mending. Once I read the message, I rushed to leave and left the ring.”

  “Georgina and Charles hadn’t heard from you. I thought you might’ve come here, and when I saw Persephone wandering alone in the woods, saw you crumpled in the snow, I thought I had lost you all over again. I’m so grateful to all that is holy that you have returned to me.” His voice was shaky, and his hand gripped hers tightly. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

  “I heard…”

  “Let me have this,” he said. She bit her lip. He got into the bed and stretched out alongside her. His hands cautiously roamed over her. “I have you back.” He kissed her cold fingers and rubbed them. “I have you back, my sweet thing.”

  They laid together quietly until Dr. Langham finally arrived. The few breaks, the sprains, and the large number of bruises seemed to be her only injuries. Everyone heaved a collective sigh of relief.

  “And the child?” Brandon asked the doctor.

  “There is no evidence of any more bleeding. I’ve told her. She did not know and is in a bit of a shock over it, I think,” Langham pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his spectacles. “I’ll check in on her tomorrow. She will stay here for a few more days. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  Brandon nodded and saw him out. He looked in on Justine. Mrs. Shaw was with her, adjusting bedclothes and blankets, preparing her medicine.