Wolf Who Loved Me (17 page)

Madeline’s free hand touched the top of his head and then settled in his hair. She touched him. Dear God, she’d touched him. She’d touched him of her own free will. He hadn’t asked for it. He hadn’t begged or pleaded or forced it. She’d just done it.

Wes pushed her gown down over her hips and stood quickly, then scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her in the center, shucked his smallclothes, and crawled atop her in one swift move. This might not be the marriage she’d wanted, but he’d make it the marriage that pleased her. At least in this moment.

Her heart was beating like mad. He could hear it in his head. “Are you all right?” he asked as he looked down into her face. She nibbled at her bottom lip and nodded, her green eyes finally rising to meet his.

“I’m ready,” she said.

Wes couldn’t keep from chuckling. “Not quite,” he murmured as he dropped his head to her breast and nuzzled the softest skin he’d ever felt. Her breasts were small and pert and perfect. Perfect for him. They were topped with small puffy crests so desperate for him that they nearly reached his lips. He took one into his mouth, gently tugging as he loved her. Madeline gasped beneath him, her breath catching in the air as he looked up, his mouth still full of her as he looked into her eyes.

She looked at him from beneath heavy-lidded lashes, her mouth open slightly as tiny rushes of air brushed past her lips and across his shoulder. For the rest of his days, he’d never, ever forget the look on her face. There was joy to be had from taking his time. So much joy.

Madeline’s hands threaded into his hair as he toyed with her, and guided his head when he switched to her other breast. Her fingernails abraded his scalp when he trailed one lazy hand down her belly and into her curls. Her legs parted of their own volition, just as he touched her center. He found that hidden little pearl he knew would bring her pleasure and circled it, his mouth still full of her breast.

“Wes,” she cried.

He raised his head only briefly, just to be certain she was all right. He didn’t know why he cared so much. She’d told him to hurry. He just found it impossible to do so. He wanted to savor every moment. “Yes, Madeline,” he said, and then he took her nipple back into his mouth.

Her back arched as she tried to get closer to him. “What are you doing to me?”

“It’s called passion, darling,” he laughed. He dragged his finger harder over that nub of pleasure that so obviously sparked something within her. Her breaths kicked up as he dipped a finger into her heat and brought back some moisture to slicken his way. Wes settled himself between her open thighs and nudged against her heat. Her eyes met his. “I wanted to take more time,” he said. But he heard heavy footsteps coming down the corridor. She couldn’t hear it, thank God. But with his hearing, he could hear every stomp and every curse.

“Please,” Madeline cried from beneath him, her hands frantically fluttering on his shoulders.

Wes pushed at her center, slowing as her heat closed around him like a silken glove. He wanted to shove himself inside her and spill his passion, but she tensed beneath him. He raked his finger across her center again. She cried out his name.

“Maddie, Maddie, mine,” he crooned in her ear as he pressed forward. There was a moment of tension from her, a quick indrawn breath, and then Maddie was his. He was fully inside her. He was part of Madeline Hayburn. Madeline Hadley. His wife. He began to move slowly and said quietly in her ear, “Can you put your legs around me, darling?”

She did it without hesitation and he went even deeper. A clatter at the doorway nearly broke him from the moment. But he ignored it, and she appeared not to notice. He rocked inside her, finding a gentle rhythm that pleased her. He’d never felt such purpose. Such perfection. It had never been this way for him.

“I think I love you, Madeline,” he murmured against her hair as he sped his fingers, still stoking her passion.

Maddie began to meet his thrusts, small noises leaving her throat. She squeezed his arms, her face pressed into the side of his neck, her sharp little teeth biting his shoulder. Good God, she would destroy him. But then she broke. She shattered beneath him. She squeezed his manhood in an iron grip, and he joined her, spilling himself inside her in one deep thrust. He clutched her in his arms and was afraid to let her go as he settled heavily on top of her.

“Wes,” she said softly.

“Are you all right?” He tried to calm himself. But he was still inside her, and she still fluttered around him.

“Someone’s at the door,” she whispered harshly, her breaths heavy and labored.

He heard Dovenby grunt as a scuffle ensued outside the door. Apparently, the duke was more than angry.

“Shh,” he bade Madeline. Perhaps they would go away. Not bloody likely. But perhaps.

“You don’t want to go in there, Your Grace,” Dovenby said loudly.

“Open the damned door,” the duke spat.

The jingle of keys indicated that their moment of peace was about to be shattered. “I’m sorry,” Wes whispered to Madeline, and then brushed a lock of hair from her forehead.

The door handle turned, and all Wes could think was
God, I’m still lying between her thighs. And I don’t want to move.

“Don’t go in there, gentlemen,” a feminine voice called out. Quick, light footsteps heralded Lucy Reed’s arrival.

“I will find out if he has defiled my daughter!” the duke bellowed.

“And if they’re in the middle of the deed?” Lucy asked. “What then? Do you really want to see that, Your Grace?”

“I have to know,” the duke ground out.

“Fine,” Lucy said. Wes looked over his shoulder as the door opened slightly. Lucy’s head popped around the door, where she very quickly glanced their way and then her head disappeared. “Your Grace,” she said solemnly. “I regret to inform you that you were too late.”

The duke cursed, a most foul sound coming from such a genteel man.

Lucy Reed continued, “And unless you want to see Hadley’s white arse, I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.”

“We’ll be out in a moment,” Wes called to the now closed door.

Then from beneath him, Madeline began to giggle. She giggled so hard that she shook beneath him. Dear God, was she hysterical? “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Kiss me, Wes,” she said between giggles. He could deny her nothing, not now, not ever. But as he touched his lips to hers, she laughed loudly. It erupted from her like a fountain spouting.

He couldn’t keep from joining her in her enjoyment, however misplaced it might have been. She looked up and down his body as he rolled to land beside her and drop her onto his chest. “I have one question,” she said.

She probably wanted to know if it was always that bad. But she surprised him when she said, “Is your arse really that white?” Then she laughed and laid her head on his chest, hugging him tightly.

Maddie took a deep breath. Ever since she’d re-donned her awful gown, which she couldn’t wait to burn, she’d dreaded the interview with her father. But there was no avoiding it. She would have to face him sometime, and now was as good a time as any. Actually now was better than any. Her body still tingled with awareness from her coupling with Wes, and in that very moment she must have resembled the lovesick girl in Wes’ foolish letter to her father.

“I’ll talk to him, Madeline,” Wes promised, tucking one of Maddie’s locks behind her ear.

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Oh, I’m certain he’ll want to talk to you, too, but I need to talk to him first.”

Fear flashed in his eyes for a moment. “You won’t tell him… what you saw that night.” His words came out more like a question than a statement.

Wasn’t that the point in marrying her? Ensuring her silence on the matter? Maddie shook her head. “Papa has never been my confidant.”

He took a steadying breath, one she could only imagine was filled with relief.

“But
you
soon will be, husband. And I’ll expect you to finally divulge your secrets. All of them. Who else you’re protecting, just for starters.”

He nodded quickly. “I did promise I would, Madeline.”

“And you shouldn’t call me that.”

Wes took a step backward. “Beg your pardon?”

He looked so affronted all of a sudden that Maddie giggled. “You called me Maddie when we were…” She let her voice trail off, not able to say
in
bed.
Which was silly. They were very small words, after all. But her cheeks warmed at just the thought of uttering them. “My family calls me Maddie.” She cleared her throat. “If you want Papa to believe we bolted north because we were so desperately in love, you should call me Maddie.”

“Maddie,” he echoed, wearing a silly grin. “I could get used to that.”

So could she, especially when she thought about him whispering it in her ear while making love to her. Maddie cleared her throat again. “Wish me luck.”

Wes frowned. “I think I should talk to him first.”

Male pride would be the death of her. “And I think I should calm him down before you do so.”

“He can’t hurt me, Maddie.”

Not physically, no, but… “I can just imagine the male posturing.” She sighed. “Wes, Papa may not be my confidant, but I do love him. I’d rather appease him than anger him even more.”

Wes scoffed. “Darling, I have absconded with you, married you, and taken your innocence. I don’t think he could be angrier.”

“Well, you don’t know, Papa.” Maddie padded across the rug on her bare feet. Then she looked back at her new husband. “How good is your hearing?”

“Very attuned to you. If you call out, I’ll be there in less than a second.”

She smiled. “Then you’ll know when I’m ready for you.” Her feet found the wooden planks of the floor and she kept from cringing. When she got home, she would never, ever, as long as she lived, take slippers or boots for granted. She was sure she had more dirt between her toes than she’d ever imagined possible.

Maddie tossed open the door and very carefully negotiated the corridor and steps, making certain to avoid as much filth as possible. She was going to need another bath. Soon.

She met the kindly old innkeeper as soon as she descended the last step. The ancient Scot had been but a blur when Wes had rushed her into the inn immediately after their wedding. Maddie smiled at the old man. “I am looking for the Duke of Hythe.”

The innkeeper grimaced. “His Grace is in the private dinin’ room at the end of the hall.”

Maddie whispered, “Does he seem very angry?”

A look of sympathy crossed the old man’s face. “Veins bulgin’ in his neck, lass. Are ye sure ye want ta go in there? I would think that big, strappin’ lad of yers would be better.”

Better if Maddie wanted them to pummel each other until they were both black and blue and gushing blood. “I’ll be fine.” And she would. She had been raised by her grandmother, after all. And a more stalwart woman didn’t exist. Maddie would just have to adopt her Grandmamma’s steel spine for the interview with her father. “The private dining room at the end of the hall?”

“Aye, lass.” The innkeeper stepped aside, muttering something about the foolishness of young love.

Love had nothing to do with it. Her relationship with Weston wasn’t based on love, though she vaguely remembered him murmuring something about it in her ear when they were in bed. Their relationship was based on his need for her to keep a secret. And the fact that she might get some passion in return. Her skin still tingled from their earlier interlude. Her cheeks warmed at the memory. Maddie brushed past the old man and made her way down the corridor, stopping at the private dining room. Then she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Her father stood rigid as a board beside a roaring hearth. As he met her eyes, a muscle near his right eye twitched. “Madeline Louisa Hayburn,” he said menacingly.

“Hadley,” she corrected.

His eye twitched again. “Was your lover too scared to come and face me himself?”

“You mean my husband, Papa?”

He snorted as though he still had a hard time believing the situation. “I didn’t even know you were acquainted with the young man.”

“He’s been Robert’s friend for years.”

“And is that how long all of this has been going on? Years? Is that why you refused every suitable fellow I paraded before you?”

She’d refused every suitable fellow he paraded before her because they were awful specimens from which to choose. They may have been rich and privileged, but they were devoid of character. “You would never have accepted Weston if he’d come to you.”

“You are right about that.” He still made no effort to move from his spot. And Maddie got the impression that if he moved, he might crack. “I would never have let you throw your future away.”

“I hope you’ll be happy for me, Papa,” she said softly.

He could only shake his head, and she wasn’t certain if he meant he couldn’t be happy for her, or he simply couldn’t speak. Then he raked a hand through his greying hair. “You don’t honestly think he can make you happy, do you?”

“I hope he can.”

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

Maddie gasped. “Papa!”

He took a step toward the dining table a few feet from him and pulled out one of the wooden chairs. He scooped something up in his hands, and Maddie almost sighed when she recognized her damaged-beyond-repair slippers. They would never be worn in society again, but they would feel like heaven right now. “My slippers!”

“Please put them on. You can’t be traipsing across the country in bare feet.” He held the shoes out to her.

Maddie closed the distance between them and took his offering. It wasn’t much. But he cared about her. He’d thought enough of her to bring her shoes. “Thank you.”

Her father’s frown deepened. “You know you will never have the life you were born for, don’t you? You mother, God rest her soul, must be turning in her grave.”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“Is your husband a coward?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why hasn’t he come to face me like a man?”

“Because I begged him to let me talk to you first.”

“Got him wrapped around your finger, do you? That doesn’t speak well for him.”

Maddie hadn’t really thought of it like that. “I think he is simply able to listen to reason when it’s presented.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.” Then he cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed, “Weston Hadley!”

In less than a moment, a knock came from the door and then Wes stepped over the threshold. “Did you want to see me, Your Grace?”

“I’d like to see you hanged,” her father replied crisply. “Were you listening at the keyhole?”

Wes shook his head. “I’m just very fast, sir.”

“I’ll say.” Then he glanced at Maddie. “You may leave. Your
husband
and I have some things to discuss.”

“But Papa!” she began.

“Unlike this young man, Madeline, I am not wrapped around your finger and you
will
do as I say.”

“I’d like to stay.”

“Maddie,” Wes said softly. “Your father is right. We do have some issues to discuss.”

***

As soon as Maddie huffed from the room, Wes turned his attention to her father. The Duke of Hythe had always been an imposing man. He wore his birthright like a badge. “First, let me say, sir—”

“How much?” the duke grumbled.

“I beg your pardon?” Wes couldn’t have heard him correctly.

“I said ‘How much.’ How much is it going to take for you to walk away from my daughter?”

“Your Grace, Maddie and I are husband and wife.”

“That can be remedied.”

Wes hardly saw how. Even the King couldn’t get his own marriage annulled. “Even if such a thing were possible, I would not walk away. I love your daughter.”

“You
love
her?” the duke spat. “If that’s true, I can’t believe you would subject her to a life as your wife. The blacksmith can be bought. The marriage lines can be lost and you can have a nice settlement if you’ll just walk away from Madeline and never look back.”

Wes’ stomach dropped to the floor. He’d never dared dream that he could have Maddie for his very own, but now that he did have her, he wasn’t about to give her up. He’d held her in his arms, for God’s sake. He’d smelled her. He’d tasted her. He’d made her his own. He shook his head. “Not for every last farthing in your coffers, Your Grace.”

The duke shook his head. “Fools. Both of you.”

“I prefer being a fool to being lonely,” Wes said. The duke had been alone for ten long years. How awful it must have been to wake alone, to sleep alone, and to dine alone. To be alone even when he was in a throng of people. To know there was no one to comfort him when he was feeling blue. To laugh with him when he was feeling happy. To cry for him when he was sad. Except for Madeline. And now he could imagine Madeline doing all those things for and with him, her husband. Not her father. How utterly bereft the man must have felt.

“You know nothing of loneliness,” the duke said. “Try giving your only daughter away to a scoundrel who doesn’t deserve her. Then you, too, will know the sting of true loneliness.” The duke suddenly looked older. And tired. He rubbed his forehead with harsh fingertips, as though he could rub away the worry Wes and Madeline had caused him. “She’s my only daughter. My wife would not have wanted this for her.”

She wouldn’t have wanted Madeline to find love? “I know you hadn’t planned for a love match for her,” Wes began tentatively. But the duke was obviously hurting. Hurting more than Wes could probably imagine.

“You have no idea what I wanted for her!” the duke roared. His fist slammed into the sideboard so hard that the man winced.

“Tell me, Your Grace. Tell me what you would have arranged for her that I can’t give her.” Unless wealth was on the list, Wes couldn’t think of anything he couldn’t or wouldn’t do for Madeline.

“I brought her shoes,” the duke croaked. “She can’t be without her shoes.” The man looked like he would break. But he didn’t. He stood up taller. “If I ever find my daughter in a state such as the one I found her in today, I’ll… I’ll…” He cursed profoundly. “I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll make you regret it.”

“If I ever harm her in any way, I’ll deserve it.” Wes suddenly felt a lump grow in his throat. This man was entrusting him with the care of his only daughter. His most precious commodity. “I’ll make a promise to you right now, Your Grace.”

“Promises will not get your hands on my daughter’s dowry,” the duke spat.

Wes didn’t give a damn about a dowry. He swallowed hard and forged on. “I promise to love and protect her.”

The duke glared at him. “You think you feel strongly for her.”

“I know I feel strongly for her. I know exactly where my emotions lie.”

“This will be difficult for Maddie,” the duke said.

Wes snorted. Falling in love with him? He didn’t doubt it at all.

The duke appraised his scar. “You lead a lifestyle she’s not accustomed to.”

“Yes, I do,” Wes admitted. One that involved shifting into a beast under the light of the full moon. And consorting with vampyres. Heaven only knew what he’d come up against next. “I’m not wealthy. I don’t have a great fortune. But I have a big heart. And it’s completely open to love.”

“Love won’t keep my daughter in slippers.”

Wes dug his hands into his pockets and didn’t say a word. What could he say to that? He’d just taken Madeline as his wife. Then taken her innocence. Now he would take her back to his home, not to the castle where she’d grown up.

***

Maddie stood outside the door and listened. She didn’t even care that there were curious patrons about. That people were giving her odd glances. She pressed her ear even harder to the door. Tears welled in her eyes when she heard the pain in her father’s voice.

“I do not approve of this marriage,” her father said.

“I understand that, Your Grace,” Weston said. He didn’t sound offended by her father. How could he not be? She was offended for him.

“Maddie’s dowry will never fall into your hands.”

“I’ve no need of it, sir,” Weston clipped out.

Her father laughed, a sound with no humor at all. “Have the Hadleys suddenly had a change of fortune? Radbourne handles his funds as well as your father ever did.”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I’d prefer it if you didn’t speak of my father in such a way. We were very young when he died. Our circumstances would be completely different if he had lived, I’m certain.”

Maddie wracked her brain trying to remember the circumstances surrounding the late Viscount Radbourne’s death. She could come up with nothing. They’d been known as “those penniless Hadleys” for as long as she could remember. She wasn’t sure if their censure was because of their misbehavior or their lack of a fortune. She assumed it was the former.

Her father broke her from her reverie. “Your circumstances are now my daughter’s circumstances.”

Heavy footsteps moved toward the door. Maddie jumped to the side as the door swung open. “Papa,” she said quietly, looking up at him with newfound respect. He looked ten years older.