WitchofArundaleHall (12 page)

“Did you see who it was?” Sarah asked.

“No. They stole nothing, but these three scrolls were laid
out on the table.” His gaze swerved to Perry. “I do not think this person looks
for the same reasons you do.”
 “Then we should go.” Perry took Sarah’s hand and she realized that she was
shaking.

“But there has to be more.” Sarah gripped his hand with
hers. “How can I break the curse? I don’t understand.”

The priest’s face softened and he patted her shoulder. “Speak
to Chantal. She is the key.”

Perry blinked when he emerged from the underground corridor,
the natural light in the monastery blinding him. Sarah hadn’t said a word since
they began their ascent, and the priest had revealed nothing further to help
them.

Jaimison was in the narthex waiting for them and Perry
nodded in acknowledgment. He turned to say goodbye to the bishop. The man
seemed concerned, as if he had something else to say.

Finally he looked at Sarah. “I wonder if you had an
encounter with the Lord Robert Applegate, the Duke of Kent.” Sarah stiffened
and Perry gripped her hand in sympathy.

When she spoke he had to admire her ability to sound
neutral. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

The priest sighed. “It was unfortunate that he visited
Bayeux four years ago. He charmed Chantal D’Insigny, who was Chantal Ormond
then.” He shook his head sadly. “It was as if history were repeating itself.” He
shot Perry a quick glance. “I tell you this to warn you that if you visit her
your husband may want to…wait elsewhere.”

“She knew what he was.” Sarah’s voice was flat.

“She knew he was a bastard, born with the DeFalk curse,” the
bishop said. “Did she know he was a coldblooded killer? No. Not until later.” He
met Perry’s stare steadily. “She discovered it when he tried to kill her and
their unborn baby. I believe he succeeded in killing the child, but Chantal
lived.”

“Then she won’t be interested in helping me at all,” Sarah
said in a thin voice. “How will I compel her to tell me anything?”

“She has no family left,” the priest stated. “You are the
closest relative she has. You will have to convince her.”

Perry shook the priest’s hand and escorted Sarah toward the
door. Jaimison fell into step with them and spoke in a low, urgent tone. “I
found him. He sought medical care after you sliced him across the face.”

“Where is he?”

“There’s a tavern down the street. He’s there.” Jaimison
helped Sarah into the carriage. “What’s our next move?”

“Sarah must visit Chantal D’Insigny. Apparently my presence
will impede things. Go with her and keep her safe.” Perry peered into the
carriage. “I will follow when I can.”

She leaned down and touched his cheek. “Please be careful.” Her
gaze held his and he tore himself away to close the door.

When Jaimison climbed into the seat and obtained the reins
Perry gave him a quick nod and stepped back. The horses leaped forward and
Perry watched the carriage until it disappeared down the street.

Perry found the tavern, a place called
Le Cheval Cabre,
or The Prancing Horse. The man who had attacked him sat in the back of the
house, a metal cup in his hand. The scratches on his face were raw and red.

His head snapped up when Perry entered and his eyes turned
from a metallic gray to luminous blue. As Perry strode toward him the man’s
muscles clenched. Perry didn’t sense fear, only hate.

“Your man wasn’t very subtle,” the man said. He spoke
perfect French, as though he was native born, and his voice was low and deep. His
hair was a light brown and his features were all sharp angles. He resembled a
fox, cunning and predatory, trusting no one.

Perry shrugged. “I told him to find you. He found you.” He
sat down across from the man and switched to English to keep their conversation
private. “How are you related to the Arundale family? You’re a wolf. Are you
one of my father’s bastards?”

“We share a common ancestor but your father was not the only
one who left behind bastards.” His eyes changed to a stormy dark gray. “You
could say I am a French cousin.” As he leaned back the man’s muscles were still
tense despite his appearance of relaxation.

Perry cut to the chase. “Lady North must be paying you a
good sum.”

The man leaned forward. “She knows you so well, doesn’t she?
She ordered me to threaten to fuck your mate to spur you to your duty.” He
grinned. “I don’t even like women as a rule. And it worked. You Claimed her,
making it impossible for her to stop the curse.”

“Not impossible,” Perry said.

“Impossible unless she dies,” the man said bluntly. “Lady
North wins.”

Perry gritted his teeth. “And what do you get out of it? Money?”

The man laughed but there was no humor in it. “The money is
good, yes. But do you know what is better than the money, Perry Arundale? I
will have the pleasure of watching you suffer as I have suffered.”

What was the man talking about? “Why would you want that? I’ve
done nothing to you. I didn’t even know you existed.”

The man’s lip curled. “No. You were too busy drinking with
your friends and fucking any hole you could find, weren’t you?”

“Whatever Lady North is paying you—”

“You couldn’t match it, and even if you could I wouldn’t
take one farthing from you,” the man interrupted Perry. “You took something
from me and I’m going to repay the favor.”

“Took something from you?” Perry shook his head, puzzled. “How
could I have taken something from you?”

“The one I love is gone from me. So I’ll make sure the woman
you love is gone from you. Permanently.” The man rose and Perry shot to his
feet.

“I won’t let that happen,” he snarled at the man.

“It’s her destiny,” the man said with a smug expression. “My
only job now is to stop you from trying to save her.”

“Try, then,” Perry snapped, his claws extending.

The man’s lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “When the
time comes I’ll slit your throat. You won’t see it coming.”

“So you’re a coward as well as a murderer and a rapist.”

Perry had the pleasure of seeing the smile drop from the
smug bastard’s face. “I suppose we shall see.” The man threw coins down on the
table and strode out of the tavern.

By the time Perry arrived out on the street, the man was
gone.

The road to the small country house where Chantal D’Insigny
lived was neglected and dusty but Sarah barely noticed it. Perry hadn’t asked
her what she’d read in those scrolls. Along with the cryptic section she’d read
aloud she had noted the bloodlines.

Apparently the bishop had kept the bloodlines up-to-date,
since her name was clearly notated, as were Joshua’s and Perry’s. Even Gerry
was listed. Those names she had seen in Lady North’s notes.

New names she had not seen before were what concerned her. A
distant relation to the Arundale family had left England and returned to
France, married and had children. Most had passed away but there was one male
descendent left, a Simon Ormound. He was a bastard, born the same year as
Joshua.

The bishop had tracked the D’Insigny line as well, with her
and her brothers singled out due to their special place in the bloodline. Her
name was written in bold letters. Others were branched from the D’Insigny line.
Including, shockingly, Jaimison.

“Your bloodline. Did you know, Jaimison?” She asked the
question, knowing he would understand.

For a long moment the only sound was the groaning of the
carriage wheels. Finally he answered her. “My family has served the Arundales
for many generations, Mrs. Arundale. Early in my apprenticeship my father
informed me that…I qualified for other services if they were needed.”

“A wolf mate.” She stared at the trees.

“Perhaps,” he said calmly. “But I am qualified to serve the
D’Insigny line as well as the Arundale line.”

“Are you offering something, Jaimison?”

He met her gaze, his eyes an amber color she’d never noticed
before. “However I can help you, milady, I will.”

She dropped her gaze first and clenched her hands in her
lap. “I saw his child in a vision. The curse says no child of mine will live,
yet I saw his child. I have to break the curse or die in the attempt. If you
would help me, help him.” She couldn’t look at him as she begged. “He will
blame himself and you must help him not to.”

“You are quick to surrender,” Jaimison said. “It’s possible
that what you saw was an illusion or a mistake.”

She shook her head. “No. It will happen. I have only had
visions three times in my life. All of them were portents of the future.” Perhaps
she could reveal things that would comfort Perry later. “I saw Perry before I
met him. I did not realize who he was but I saw us together. I knew we would—”
She stopped and closed her eyes.

The vision had been a thread of hope, a fantasy that had
made her time with Jerome tolerable. When Mariah had accused her of being in
love, mistaking her secret smiles for wistful yearnings for Mariah’s lover,
Sarah had not been able to deny it. She had known Perry was in her future. What
she hadn’t known was that it would break her heart.

It hadn’t been until she’d arrived at Arundale Hall, fully
intending to destroy the evil wolves that haunted that family, that she’d
realized Perry was the lover from her vision.

“Considering that Lady North sent you to kill him, that must
have been devastating,” Jaimison said. “Then to wait three years…”

“I was determined to spare us both. Once I realized he was a
wolf, that my vision showed us…together, I knew we would be doomed if we
attempted to have a relationship.” She bit her lip, the memories of those
lonely days overwhelming her. “But when Joshua found out about me and offered
me to Perry, I…accepted it as my fate.”

“And that is why you did not stop him when he took your
innocence. You had seen it.” Jaimison nodded. “Perry believes you had no choice
in that.”

“Marcus had ordered me to raise two fingers if I flatly
refused to accept Joshua’s punishment.” She swallowed, remembering how moot
that offer had seemed, how she hadn’t even considered it. “I don’t think Perry
knew Marcus had given me a way out.”

“You should tell him, milady.”

“If things with Miss D’Insigny go the way I fear, I will not
have the opportunity. You will have to tell him for me.” She twisted her
fingers together tightly.

“He will not allow anything to happen to you.” Jaimison’s
lips tightened and he focused on the road ahead.

She relaxed her hands and laid one of them on Jaimison’s
bicep. “It is my choice to free him, Jaimison. I want him to be free.”

The silence returned and she did not break it.

When they reached the small cottage surrounded by a grove of
large trees, Jaimison stopped the carriage and stepped down. He didn’t meet her
gaze as he helped her to the ground and she didn’t know how to break the quiet
between them. Clearly he disagreed with her, but she knew this was the right
thing to do.

She straightened her bonnet and smoothed her skirts before
she approached the door to the cottage and knocked.

The door was flung open and the portrait from the monastery
seemed to have come to life. She was tall and slender, her reddish hair bound
in a braid that reached to her waist. Her eyes were a vivid green, intense and
hostile as she studied Sarah from head to toe. “What is it?” she said gruffly.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Miss D’Insigny, but I require
your help. I am—”

“I know who you are,” the woman snapped. Sarah stared at
this beautiful living version of the painting she’d viewed at the monastery.

“Then, you know why I’m here,” Sarah said after swallowing
past a lump in her throat. The woman was a witch, more powerful than Sarah
could imagine.

“I know why you think you’re here.” Her bitter tone grated
on Sarah’s ears.

“It will be another two hundred years if you don’t help me.”
Sarah wasn’t above begging. She’d come this far but she knew she needed Chantal
D’Insigney to break the curse. “Do you wish to doom our children to death? Isn’t
one casualty enough?”

“The bishop has been gossiping,” she said with a thin smile.

“I’ve read the scrolls. You know what they say.” Sarah held
Chantal’s stare.

For a moment Sarah thought the woman was going to shut the
door in her face. It was when she shot a glance at Jaimison that she seemed to
relent.

“You’d better come inside,” Chantal said, and stepped aside
to wave Sarah inside.

Chantal led Sarah to a small parlor and indicated that she
sit down in one of the ancient high-backed chairs. “You’ve been Claimed by a
DeFalk wolf.” Her voice was filled with hatred when she said the name.

Sarah nodded. “I have.”

Chantal’s eyes were bright. “You wish to break the blood
bond to free yourself.”

In her soul Sarah did not want to be free from Perry. But to
free Perry from the demands of the Beast, she would do anything. To free him to
have the child she’d seen in her vision, she would give her life’s blood. “I
wish to reverse the curse altogether.”

“I see.” Chantal leaned back in her chair and kept her gaze
on Sarah’s face. “You understand how the curse works, do you not?”

“I only know that it is passed on to male issue and that
they must mate only with their true mate.” She cleared her throat. “I know what
the scrolls say.”

Chantal laughed, a tinkling sound. “Let me tell you the
whole story, Lady Sarah Ayers Arundale. Edward Louis DeFalk was a carouser, a
man with large appetites and little restraint. He took what he wanted when he
wanted it.” There was something in Chantal’s voice that said the story was more
personal than something that had happened hundreds of years earlier. “When he
arrived in the small village here, he discovered a little maid by the name of
Wisteria. She refused him but he would brook no resistance.” Her gaze flicked
to Jaimison. “He used her for weeks, using his power and his brute strength to
bend her to his will. When he left her, ruined and devastated, he did not
consider the consequences.”

Chantal leaned forward. “When Wisteria recovered she used
her ancient powers to conjure a curse. But even a witch does not fully
understand the deep workings of the magic she wields. The curse required her
blood, which she did not know would tie her and her descendants forever to the
man she so hated.” Chantal was quiet for a long moment. The fire crackling in
the hearth was the only sound. Then she met Sarah’s stare, her face drawn tight
with some unnamed pain. “She succeeded in turning Edward Louis DeFalk into a
Beast but she was now bonded to him for eternity. Their child, conceived from
his unwanted attentions, its descendants, anyone with her blood became their
bonded mates. So the balance is maintained. The thing she hated became bound by
blood to her line.”

It was Jaimison who broke the eerie silence that followed
Chantal’s story. “And history has repeated itself, hasn’t it?”

Sarah swerved to stare at Jaimison and then at Chantal’s
rigid form. The bishop had said something about this, hadn’t he? “The bishop
said that another wolf charmed you.”

Chantal’s face seemed frozen, with no expression. “Charmed.”

“What happened, Miss D’Insigney?” Jaimison asked.

“He came, just as his ancestor had, and he took.” Chantal’s
hands shook and she forced them into her lap to still them. “He took me against
my will for a week, wanting my body to bear a child for him.” She raised her
head and glared at Jaimison. “I hated him and yet I didn’t hate him. He left
for England over a year ago.”

“What of the child?” Sarah asked gently. “The bishop said—”

“I lost the child.” Her bald statements were like raw
wounds. “I know why Wisteria cursed the DeFalks. I know why she never married
again.”

“And this man,” Jaimison asked. “Who was he?” His voice was
cold.

“Lord Robert Applegate, Duke of Kent,” she said calmly. “Murdered
by an Arundale.”

“Killed by Elizabeth Arundale,” Sarah revealed. “The duke
was going to kill me and Perry and Joshua. He wanted revenge for his bastard
birth.”

Chantal’s gaze burned with fire. “He was the father of my
child.”

“He was a coldblooded killer.” Sarah rose. “You know it.”

“Did you love him?” Jaimison asked bluntly.

“That, sir, is none of your business.” Chantal tipped her
chin.

“It is our business if you refuse to help me,” Sarah said,
trying to keep the desperation from her tone.

For a moment the woman held Sarah’s stare but finally she
looked away. “Why didn’t he kill you?” she murmured more to herself than to
Sarah. “You know he was told to, don’t you?”

Sarah couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean?”

Chantal abruptly turned and rifled through some papers on a
desk until she found what she was searching for. It was a letter addressed to
Lord Robert Applegate.

Enclosed is money for passage on the
Anna Marie,
which
leaves for England in ten days. You will meet the woman we discussed in our
last letter in London. I have arranged it. To preserve your rightful
inheritance, you must take action. Do not allow this woman to come to France. Your
future depends on it. You must end the threat by whatever means possible.

The letter was unsigned but the handwriting was familiar. Lady
North.

“But he met Melinda in London,” she said, and glanced at
Jaimison.

He raised his eyebrows. “He did. And he seduced her to gain
access to the Arundale family. He convinced her to seek out support for divorce
proceedings between Joshua and Elizabeth.” Jaimison frowned and studied Chantal
for a moment. “Do you have this last letter that she refers to?”

Chantal shook her head. “Robert told me nothing. I have this
because I stole it.” She clenched one of her hands into a fist. “Who the hell
is Melinda?”

“She was a cousin of the Arundales,” Sarah explained. “Lord
Robert murdered her.”

“But it was you he should have killed,” Chantal stated. “You
are the one Lady North wished to eliminate. You can break the curse.”

“What I do not understand is that she had ample opportunity
to destroy me before I went to the Arundales. Why now?” She was so confused. For
years Lady North had cultivated her belief in her destiny. Why would she do
that and then kill her?

Chantal waved her hand toward the settee, urging them to sit
down. When Sarah was seated Chantal twisted her fingers together as though she
was nervous. “What do you know about magic?”

“Nothing,” Sarah answered. “I know I am descended from a witch
but I have never had any of my own. Except for the visions.”

“I believe that Lady North is one of us,” Chantal said
slowly. Her lips thinned. “I do not blame Lady Elizabeth Arundale for Lord
Robert’s death. I blame the woman who used him.” Her pained gaze met Sarah’s
surprised stare. “Lady North knows, as do I, that killing is easy. She was
determined to do more damage than just death.” Her bleak expression made Sarah
reach out and touch her clenched fingers. Chantal’s hand jumped and she touched
Sarah’s hand briefly before continuing. “I believe that she does not wish to
end the DeFalk curse but twist it to her own ends.”

“How? And how do you know this?” Sarah stared at the woman.

“The Arundales are known to be honorable.” Chantal glanced
at Jaimison. “And Lady North hates them for taking her daughter. Lord Robert
was amused that she enlisted him in her scheme of revenge. After all, he was an
Arundale too.” She laughed bitterly. “He believed that his ability to hate
would protect him from destruction. He was wrong.” There was a mixture of
relief and triumph in her voice. “His death freed me from his power but I blame
Lady North for bringing him here in the first place.”

“Lady North brought Lord Robert here?” Jaimison asked.

“She’d managed to worm the truth out of the Duchess of Kent,
that Lord Robert was an Arundale bastard. Then Lady North invited Lord Robert
to view the scrolls.” Chantal shrugged. “He came here.”

Sarah shook her head. “It is all too confusing for me. I
thought it was simple. End the curse and free everyone from this unnatural
connection.”