Wolfishly Yours (20 page)

“Foxed is not an attractive color on you, Mr. Hadley,” she said, her chin still pressed to the tops of her knees, so much so that her voice was muffled. Thank God he was Lycan, or he wouldn’t have heard her. She heaved a sigh. “And jasmine is most definitely not your scent. In fact, I find it to be the most noxious odor I have ever smelled and believe you should bathe with all due haste to prevent further offending me.” She got to her feet in one quick movement, one that was much too fast for him to counter.

He reached for her, but she stepped away from him in a flurry of skirts. “Livi,” he complained. “Come here.”

She arched one delicate dark brow at him. “Come here?” She snorted. God, that was a pretty sound. “Should I call a coach bound for Bedlam? Because you are a fool if you think I’ll allow you anywhere near my person after you’ve come home reeking of whores.” Her voice cracked on the last, and she bit back a French oath. Then Livi raised her nose into the air and said, “It’s unfortunate that Lord Radbourne wasted a trip to procure a special license. I don’t think I’ll be joining your ranks after all.”

The words registered in his brain, but they took some time to do so. “I beg your pardon?” he croaked. “Don’t tell me you’re calling off the wedding because of a drunken night of carousing.” He got to his feet and suddenly felt much more sober than he had before. Traumatic injury had a way of sobering one up. And he felt almost as though Livi had just plunged a knife into his chest.

She tapped the toe of her slipper against the floor. “Carousing? That’s what you call it?”

He mulled it over for a moment. “When that’s what it is, yes.”

“Then let’s call it what it really is. It’s whoring. And I will not marry a man who cannot be faithful.” She spun away from him to stare at a painting that hung in the corridor. “My desire for faithfulness is not one represented in most society marriages, I’m certain. But it’s what my parents had and it is my desire to have it as well. I won’t settle for less.”

“I wasn’t out whoring, Livi,” he said. He reached for her again, but she stepped out of his grasp.

“Then why do you smell like a perfume-scented wench has crawled all over your person?” She pointed to her pert little nose. “You forget, Mr. Hadley, that I have senses very much like your own.”

“Oh, that,” he said with a heavy sigh. Damn the Mayeux brothers. They’d known exactly what they were doing at the time. Looking back on the evening, there was no doubt about it.

“Yes,
that
,” she spat at him.

God, she was pretty when she was angry. Her eyes flashed furiously, and her cheeks grew ruddy. He wanted to see if she pinkened like that as much when she was aroused by lust as when she was angered. He shook the thoughts away. They would get him nowhere. Not on this night, he feared. He blamed the Mayeux brothers for that.

Gray heard his twin’s footsteps in the corridor and looked up. His brother appeared around the corner, looking for all the world like he wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’m simply on my way home to my wife.” He started past the both of them.

“You may want to bathe before you return home,” Livi muttered. “To get the scent of whores off you. Although your wife may not notice, since her nose isn’t overly sensitive.” She shrugged. “Just a suggestion.” She stared Wes down.

Wes’ eyes narrowed. He was a scoundrel to be sure, but he was a faithful one. Lady Madeline had always been the one for him and always would be. The only one. “Ah, so her brothers won the hand this night, I see,” Wes said to Gray with a heavy sigh. Then he clapped Gray on the shoulder and squeezed.

“It appears so,” Gray muttered.

“What hand?” Livi asked.

“They thrust one wench after another into his lap all night, apparently well aware that you’d smell them and make a few deductions all on your own,” Wes admitted. He gave Gray a sympathetic half smile. “Pity I didn’t realize it at the time.”

“Nor did I,” Gray said. He nodded toward the door. “Go home to Maddie.”

Wes nodded, bowed to Livi, and stalked toward the front door. His boot steps receded until he was gone. And it was then that Gray faced Livi. The uncertainty on her face nearly undid him. He reached for her, but she sidestepped him once again. He wasn’t so inebriated now that he couldn’t catch her, however. Losing the girl of one’s dream had a way of sobering one up. What was worse was that she was hurt by it all. Dare she care for him a little? Perhaps she did.

Even amid her protests, he grabbed her to him. “Livi,” he grunted when she kicked him in the shin. “Damn, you’re the most annoying bundle I’ve ever wanted to marry,” he muttered more to himself than to her.

She stilled, and he pulled her soft body closer to him with his arm around her waist. She was stiff as a board against him, and she sniped, “Perhaps you should find a more cooperative bundle, then. You seemed to have no problem doing so most of the night.”

“I had no problem finding a bundle, Livi,” he said softly, tipping her chin up so that her gaze had to meet his. “But the only bundle I want is you.”

“Then why do you smell like a cheap whore?”

He couldn’t keep from chuckling. “I love it when you use words dockworkers might say. Will you mumble them in my ear when we’re in bed, Livi? Or do you just mean to shock me so I won’t attempt to marry you?” He said it close to her ear as he drew her flush against himself.

She pressed her hands to his chest.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She looked everywhere but into his eyes.

“I smell like a cheap whore, as you put it, because your brothers thrust them into my lap all night. My guess is that they were well aware that you would assume the worst, and then they could sabotage our relationship.”

“Relationship?” She snorted again. “We don’t have a relationship.”

She could probably feel his aching length against her belly. If she couldn’t, it was only because she didn’t know what it was. But he was hard and ready and aching for a
relationship
with her. “I didn’t take a whore, Livi,” he said bluntly. How could he, when he couldn’t get her off his mind? Livi with her tumbling hair and her foul mouth. Her wicked lower lip and her penchant for disaster.

He wanted her to be his disaster. Because he couldn’t imagine life not knowing her. Not learning all of her nuances. What she liked for breakfast. What her breasts felt like filling his hands. What the mark on the inside of her thigh looked like. What kind of noises she would make when he slid inside her. He let his hand trail up her side to just below her breast. Her heartbeat sped up, but she didn’t push him away.

“Let me go, Gray,” she said, her voice heavy and heated.

“Never,” he whispered, as he dipped his head and tasted the side of her neck. She tilted her pretty little head to the side, and her hands fisted in the lapels of his coat. His hand slid up to cup her breast, and her breath hitched in her throat.

“
Bon
Dieu
,” she whispered, her lips close to his cheek as he ran his thumb across her nipple.

“Believe me, Livi,” he said close to her ear. He tugged her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled it gently. “You’re the only woman I want. The only one I can think about. The only one I want in my bed.” He lowered his voice even further and pulled her tightly against his bulging erection. “The only one I want to work my way inside of, slowly, taking every inch of you until you are mine.”

She swayed in his arms. Did he weaken her knees? He could only hope so.

“You’re only saying such scandalous things in order to shock me,” she whispered, her voice unsteady.

“Did it work?” He chuckled, then let his teeth scrape the base of her throat. Dear God, he wanted to mark her as his for the whole world to see.

“It takes a lot to shock me, Grayson,” she retorted.

He took that as a challenge. God, he shouldn’t, but he did. He began to ruck her skirts up in his hands as he backed her toward the wall. When he had her back against the wall and his hand beneath her skirts, she stilled. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Shocking you,” he whispered just before his lips claimed hers.

His fingers trailed through her curls and pressed against her silky-smooth slit, and his tongue entered her mouth at the same time his finger dipped into her heat. She moaned against his lips. He drew his finger through her slickness, bringing some of her desire forward so he could circle that little nub in a way he knew would drive her wild. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer when he found it, her tongue tangling with his until he began to circle that little pleasure point, his fingertips plying it, finding a gentle rhythm that made her lift her lips and pant into his neck. “Gray,” she cried.

She didn’t push his hands away. In fact, she spread her legs farther, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to dive beneath her skirts and get a look at that birthmark. She cried, clutching to him as her legs weakened. Her heartbeat thundered in his head, moving faster than a team of runaway horses. His manhood pressed insistently against her belly, and he was immediately afraid that he would disgrace himself with the sheer pleasure of watching her blue eyes blink closed, then open again. He wanted to sink into her. To take all of her.

She accepted all the pleasure he had to give her and clutched the back of his neck tightly as her desire slickened his way. “Gray,” she cried again. “Goodness, shock me some more. Don’t stop,” she panted. Her hips arched toward his questing fingers, and he increased the pressure. He increased the pleasure. He increased her need for him.

Her head fell back against the wall, and he was able to watch her face as he brought her over the top. She shuddered, clutching his coat tightly in her clenched fists. “God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed as he watched pleasure cross her face and she quaked in his arms. It took every bit of his control not to hike her skirts up and take her like a common whore. But she wasn’t a whore. She was his Livi. She was everything. He slowed his fingers as her body began to stop its frantic pulse, and then he drew them from her heat.

“Did I shock you?” he whispered as he let her skirts fall back to her ankles.

Before she could answer, a whistle came from the corridor. A rather loud whistle to the tune of a crude song, one attributed to dockworkers. Archer. Damn his irritating hide.

“You have dreadful timing,” Gray muttered as he stepped back from Livi, leaving her propped against the wall.

“If I had dreadful timing,” Archer drawled, “I wouldn’t have taken extraordinary measures to entertain Lady Sophia long enough for you to finish…” He glanced toward Livi. “…finish your talk, that is.”

Livi flushed scarlet. God, she was pretty when she’d just been pleasured. He’d have to do it more often.

Archer touched the brim of his beaver hat and winked at Livi. “Welcome to the family, Miss Mayeux.” Then he started for the front door. “Gray, I’ll meet you at Dash’s after you’re done saying whatever it is the two of you need to say to each other.”

As soon as Archer made his exit, Livi poked Gray in the side with one very pointy finger. “You knew he was there?” she hissed.

What a ridiculous notion. “Believe it or not,” Gray slid his arm around Livi’s waist and drew her close to him, “my attention was focused elsewhere.” Then he dipped his head and captured her mouth once again. His heart pounded and his erection throbbed just as heavily. It felt like he held her a lifetime before he gathered every bit of self-control he possessed to lift his head just a bit and take a tiny step back from her.

“Ah, Livi,” he whispered across her lips. “Tomorrow.” Tomorrow she would be his. Tomorrow he would finally have her in his bed. Tomorrow their lives would truly begin.

“Tomorrow,” she echoed, with a soft little lilt to her voice.

Gray couldn’t help but smile at his bride-to-be. Their future was indeed bright if they could go on like this the rest of their lives. “Dream of me tonight?”

An impish grin tugged at her lips. “I think I’ll dream of a sober you, if you don’t mind.”

“A sober me?” he laughed.

“
Oui
. One who doesn’t smell of ale houses and wenches.”

Gray rolled his eyes, then tipped his head in her direction. “Until tomorrow, Miss Mayeux.”

“Until tomorrow, Mr. Hadley.”

Gray turned on his heel and strode through the front door into the cool night air. He inhaled deeply as he looked up at the nearly full moon in the heavens. For once, luck was shining down on him. Livi would be his and soon he would claim her, and soon—

From behind, a cool cylinder jabbed Gray in the back. “Make one sound,” hissed a voice, “and I’ll pull the trigger.”

A moment later, Gray caught the familiar whiff of a familiar odiferous fellow. “Honeywell?” He started to turn around, but the gun pressed harder into his back.

“I will shoot you!” the man hissed. “Now walk down the steps and head toward the mews.”

Gray was faster than Honeywell, but he wasn’t faster than a bullet. And while he could heal from any injury, he couldn’t heal from death. He started down the steps carefully.

In the corner of her chambers, Livi examined her reflection in the beveled mirror and winced. Brides were supposed to be beautiful and well rested, weren’t they? Of course they were. They weren’t supposed to be sleep deprived with dark circles under their eyes, of that she was quite certain. But there was nothing for it now. Besides she wasn’t the typical bride, was she?

Still it was frustrating. She hadn’t gotten one second of sleep the night before, though not for a lack of trying. Every time she’d closed her eyes, she saw Gray’s face in her mind. The rakish twinkle in his eyes and the promising smile on his face when he’d lifted her skirts and completely shocked her. She couldn’t get the glorious feel of his hands on her most private of places out of her mind, either. It was as though he had systematically found the best way to distract her from the insanity of their circumstances. By using tactics she had no knowledge of whatsoever, not until now.

“Miss Liviana!” Marie’s impatient voice broke into Livi’s thoughts.

“
Oui
?” Livi spun away from the mirror to meet her maid’s eyes.

“I said,” Marie stressed the word, “the earl is asking for you.”

“The earl can wait,” Armand said from the threshold.

Bon
Dieu
! Livi hadn’t even heard her oldest brother approach. Not getting enough sleep had a way of dulling one’s senses. “Armand?”

Her brother gestured to the corridor with a nod of his head. “Marie, out. And make whatever excuses you need to appease our grandfather.”

“
Oui
, Monsieur Mayeux,” the maid mumbled before escaping Livi’s room in a rush of skirts.

“There was no reason to bark at her.”

“She’s used to it.” Armand tugged on his jacket as though he was uncomfortable in his clothes.

“Just because she’s used to it—” she began, but the growl emanating from her brother made the rest of Livi’s words die on her tongue.

“Enough about your maid.” He closed the door to her room and leaned his large frame against it as though he was barring the door from some villain. “I want to apologize, for Etienne and for me.”

“Apologize?”

“We should have fought Father harder. We never should have let him send you away. We should have tossed Father Antonio into the swamps for even making the suggestion.”

The image of that puffed-up priest dunked into Louisiana’s murky waters made Livi giggle.

“And last night… last night we should’ve kept our heads, Liv. I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“You mean you shouldn’t have gotten foxed,” she said.

Her brother agreed with an incline of his head. “And we should have torn Hadley apart. Limb from limb.”

“Armand!” she chastised.

But her brother clearly wasn’t through. He stepped forward and grasped her hands in his. “You don’t have to do this, Liv. No matter what that old man says. No matter what Hadley has talked you into. You don’t have to conform to these idiotic English dictates. The Livi I know would never dream of doing so.”

No, the Livi he knew wouldn’t do so; there was no question about it. But Livi wasn’t certain she was the same girl anymore. A lot had changed since she’d crossed the Atlantic on her own. Perhaps if she’d never met Grayson Hadley…

“The Livi I know would tip her chin up, tell the Earl of Holmesfield exactly where he could shove that special license of his, and bolt for the closest port city. Then she’d hop the first ship she found, start a mutiny within the crew, and captain the vessel herself all the way back to New Orleans.”

“What a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Then she’d make Father apologize for sending her off in the first place. And she might toss Father Antonio into a pit of alligators for good measure.”

Livi grinned at her brother. “You make me sound like a hellion.”

“You are a Mayeux.”

“Only half.”

Armand folded his arms across his chest. “The half that counts. Don’t tell me that pretty brunette has actually turned you into a proper English lady.”

No, she was far from being a proper English anything, much less a lady. Livi doubted she ever would be. “Lady Sophia has tried her hardest with me.”

“Come on, Liv. Let’s leave this godforsaken place. Let’s go home.”

Leave Grayson? Livi’s chest ached at the thought. Blast that English Lycan for somehow burrowing into her heart. Blast him for giving her a taste of pleasure, more than she’d ever experienced, more than she ever thought she
would
have the good fortune to experience. And blast him for making her fall in love with him. “I can’t,” she said, turning away from her brother and walking back toward her mirror.

“Of course you can.”

Livi stared at her sleep-deprived reflection once more. She wasn’t sure she recognized herself anymore, certainly not the girl Armand had just described, in any event. “I love him,” she whispered.

Armand sighed heavily, then came up behind her and squeezed Livi’s shoulder. “I was afraid that was the case. But I’m sure there’s a fellow in Louisiana you’d like just as much.”

Livi wasn’t so sure and she shook her head. “And I should be quite angry with you this morning.”

“Me?” Armand’s voice raised an octave.

She spun back to face him. “You and Etienne. I can’t believe the two of you thought to make me think Gray had spent the night whoring.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Figured that out, did you?”

At least he hadn’t denied it. Livi shrugged. “It was fairly difficult to figure out the truth, actually.”

“Meaning Hadley told you.”

“I’m going to marry the man, Armand.”

“He didn’t strike me as such a lapdog.”

Gray would not like to be referred to as such, Livi was certain. She poked her brother in the chest with a finger. “What was he supposed to do? Let me stay furious at him to keep the two of you in my good graces?”

Her brother frowned. “Actually, I hadn’t even realized he’d figured out what we were about. More clever than I took him for.”

She shook her head. “No, instead of doing what I asked—finding out how he feels about me—you got him foxed and tried to hurt me in the process.”

“We weren’t trying to hurt you,” Armand protested. “We were…”

“Manipulating me, or giving it your best shot. How is that any better than what Papa did, Armand? Shouldn’t I be allowed to make up my own mind about the situation?”

“But you’re not making up your own mind,” he growled. “You’re marrying a man because our grandfather—who turned his back on our mother, I might remind you—ordered you to do so. You just said yourself that you’re not even sure how Hadley feels about you.”

And all of that was true. But, “I know how I feel about him.”

Her brother’s frown darkened. “So there’s no talking any sense into you?”

“Papa gave up trying to do so.”

Armand took her shoulders in his hands and held her back as though to see all of her. “All right, Liv. If this is what you want, then so be it. But I’m not leaving and neither is Etienne until we’re satisfied you’ll be happy here. That the English lapdog will treat you well. And if he doesn’t, marriage or no marriage, I’ll take you back home.”

“Thank you.” Livi threw her arms around his middle and held him tightly. How she’d missed her brothers. She’d always love both of their unruly hides.

“We love you, Liv. We only want the best for you.” Then he chuckled. “And Etienne will be overjoyed to further his acquaintance with your Lady Sophia.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Livi,” Sophie’s voice filtered into the room. “Are you in there?”

Armand shook his head, clearly bemused. “Were her ears burning?” he mumbled under his breath.

Livi gestured for him to hush, then called, “Come in, Sophie. I’m almost ready.” Or as ready as she was going to be.

The door opened and Sophie stepped over the threshold, frowning a bit when her eyes landed on Armand. Then she refocused on Livi. “You haven’t… That is, have you by chance seen Mr. Hadley this morning?”

Livi hadn’t seen Gray since the night before, not even in her dreams, sober or otherwise. She shook her head. “He hasn’t arrived?”

Sophie glanced again at Armand. “Would you mind giving us just a moment, Mr. Mayeux?”

Armand snorted. Loudly. “I mind very much. Why don’t you just spit out whatever it is you came here to say?”

Sophie winced and shifted her weight from one foot to the other as though she was incapable of being comfortable. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You thought Hadley would be in my sister’s chambers?” Armand growled. “Is that why you came here? Is he often found within these walls?”

Sophie heaved a sigh and met Livi’s eyes. “No one has seen him since last night. Lord Radbourne said that when he left, Grayson was with you in the entryway.”

A cold chill tingled at the base of Livi’s neck, then trailed down her spine. “With me?” she echoed, while a slew of awful thoughts spilled into her mind. Had Gray decided she wasn’t worth the trouble, after all? Had he been annoyed when she mentioned his sobriety, or lack thereof? Had he been angry about her accusations of womanizing? Did he think her a lightskirt after the way she’d let him have his way with her? Had he turned tail and fled far away?

“No one has seen Hadley since last night?” Armand barked. “Where the devil is he?”

Sophie finally met Armand’s eyes and she squared her shoulders. “If I knew the answer to that, Mr. Mayeux, I wouldn’t be worrying Livi right now. I’d hoped, perhaps, he’d said something when he left last night. Something that would give his brothers a clue of where to look for him.”

A muscle beside Armand’s right eye twitched. “Well, when you do find him, you can tell him that his ex-fiancée has returned to New Orleans with her family.” Then he turned his glare on Livi. “Ring for Marie and have her pack your things.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, sir,” Sophie protested. She reached her hand out for Livi. “Let’s go see what your grandfather has to say.”

Armand snorted, and Livi sent him a pleading glance. “What if Mr. Hadley is hurt somewhere?”

The expression on her brother’s face made it clear he didn’t think Gray was hurt anywhere, but he gestured to the corridor with a giant sweep of his arm. “Let’s go see what the paragon our mother fled from has to say, by all means.”

Livi ignored Armand’s sarcasm and linked her arm with Sophie’s. “His lordship is actually out of his chambers today,” her friend said. “He, along with the vicar, Mr. Spann, are in the earl’s study.”

She tilted her head near her friend as they traversed the hall toward her grandfather’s chambers. “Do you think Gray bolted?” she whispered.

Sophie slightly shook her head. “He seemed so adamant yesterday,” she replied just as softly as Livi had spoken.

He had, but that was after his half brother had demanded he marry Livi, before he’d spent the day with her brothers, and before she’d proven herself a wanton.

Etienne stood sentry before their grandfather’s study, his massive arms folded across his chest like an angry Zeus holding court on Olympus. His eyes briefly touched on Livi before looking past her to Armand. “Hadley is missing.”

“I want Marie to pack Livi’s things.”

Etienne agreed with a nod. “Abandoning our sister…”

“He wouldn’t do that!” growled Weston Hadley from inside the study, his voice so much like Gray’s that Livi’s heart lifted for a moment before plummeting once again.

“Please,” Sophie begged. “Let’s not rush to judgment. We should make sure nothing has happened to Mr. Hadley. None of you gentlemen were in the best condition last night,” she reminded them as she directed Livi past Etienne and into the earl’s study.

Crowded around the room stood Lord and Lady Eynsford, Mr. Hadley and his wife Lady Madeline, Lord Radbourne, Livi’s grandfather, and a fellow she didn’t recognize who had to be the vicar Sophie had mentioned.

“Did he say anything to you?” Lord Radbourne demanded as soon as he caught Livi’s eye.

“Tomorrow.” Livi echoed Gray’s final words to her. “He said he would see me tomorrow. Today,” she clarified. “No one has any idea where he would go?”

Weston Hadley glanced briefly at Lady Eynsford. “Nothing’s occurred to you, has it?”

But the marchioness shook her head and touched a protective hand to her stomach. “I wish I knew where to look.”

“What would Lady Eynsford know about the situation?” Livi’s grandfather grumbled.

“My wife’s…
intuition
,” Lord Eynsford began, “is usually spot on. But in her present condition, she’s not quite feeling herself.” Then he shot a frown in Weston Hadley’s direction.

Livi thought she must be missing something in the exchange, but she was too preoccupied with Gray’s disappearance to dedicate any time to wondering about the comment. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to be found,” she muttered. But with a room full of Lycans, nearly everyone assembled there heard her.

“This is an outrage,” Armand growled. “I will not allow my sister to be treated so poorly. We’ll leave with the tide for home. And the rest of you can all hang.”

“You,” their grandfather pointed one gnarled finger at Armand, “are just like your father.”

Armand puffed out his chest with pride.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Grandfather continued. “He swept in here with the manners of an oaf, stole my Grace, and left. You’re not going anywhere with Liviana.”

“Stole our mother?” Etienne echoed in outrage and at the same time Armand repeated, “Oaf!”

“Shut your mouths, both of you, so I can think,” Grandfather ordered.

But such an order would never work with her brothers. Armand slowly closed the distance between his spot in the study and their grandfather’s desk, his blue eyes cold enough to chill the entire room. He placed his hands on the edge, leaned toward to their grandfather, and said menacingly, “How dare you speak of my father like that, you delusional old man? Livi’s too young to remember
Maman
, but I’m not. Our father is not an oaf. He loves his children. He would never shun us the way you shunned our mother. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Grandfather blanched but then said, “I wanted what was best for Grace, and I want what’s best for Liviana.”