Page 30 of Wolfhaven

“What is it?” Alarm lit up her aquamarine eyes, yet there was no true fear in those changing depths. “Did another animal get in?”

He wanted to throw back his head and howl with deranged laughter.

“The only animal here is me, Evaine,” he snarled. Living up to his true nature. His father’s blood ran in his veins, after all. That was why he must never marry or have children. He refused to perpetuate his cursed legacy. He would be the last of his line.

The shock on her face was almost worth scaring her.

Maybe now, she would leave him in peace.

“You’re hurting me,” she said. “Let go.”

Instead, he tightened his grip until she yelped. Nerves in his injured hand screamed protest. Possessed, Gareth pushed her up against the wall. “You must leave. Tonight.”

“And go bloody where?” She lifted her chin in challenge. Wild fury tore through him. He wanted her so badly. Remembering the way she touched him this morning while bandaging his hand was the only thing that stopped him from dragging her closer and forcing a kiss.

Force.

Stunned and horrified, he shoved away from her. Pain burst in his head. Agony radiated into his eyes, down his neck, into his jaw.

“Get away from me,” he said brokenly. “This place is going to kill me. I won’t let Wolfhaven’s curse hurt you, too.”

The foolish woman did not turn tail and run. Instead, she took his arm and said firmly, “You pushed yourself too hard this morning. You need to lie down.”

Evaine

Evaine’s pulse raced as she tried to make sense of what had just transpired. One second she had been pinned to the wall with the wainscoting digging into her back, the next, that wild light in the duke’s eyes winked out abruptly and he released her. Tried to slink away as if he hadn’t just attacked her without cause. Gareth’s long, strong body trembled.

Whatever malevolent force had possessed the man, it was the same wild glint that had been in his eye this morning when he burst into her bath. She ignored the lingering fear that clung to her skin like a layer of filth and led him to his room, directly next to the one she and Gran now occupied, with a water closet situation across the hall. It made sense to share a wall and therefore heat from the fire she had laid in their bedroom grate. She did not want to admit how much comfort it gave her to know that he was close by.

Or had, until a few moments ago.

Certainly it wasn’t because she trusted him to keep her safe. There was a fair measure of guilt keeping her here. She had been the one who caused the fall that knocked his brains around, and she owed it to the man to nurse him back to health. Which could take weeks.

Still, their encounter just now had rattled her.

Were these spells the result of the injury she’d given him? Or was there a malevolent spirit at work in those moments?

She was letting this blasted house get to her. All the historic beauty in the world couldn’t make up for the oppressive atmosphere.

“Lay down.” She pointed at the bed. The chair where she had sat vigil the day she found him collapsed on the floor of the kitchen still stood where she had left it.

“I am fine,” he insisted while wavering on his feet. Lying straight to her face.

“You, sir, are still concussed. You pushed yourself too hard this morning. You’re seeing things,” she said firmly.

“Marina,” he groaned, clutching his head with his free hand. She took his other arm and led him to the unmade bed. The duke followed her as meekly as a lamb.

“You called me that once before,” she said. Inside his room, clothing was scattered everywhere. The bed itself was a nest of sheets and blankets, with a single sad pillow dangling halfway off the side and most of the mattress exposed. Evaine frowned at it.

“Not you. My bride,” he gritted out. “I saw her just now.”

“Your bride has been dead this past decade.” She went to the window and yanked the curtains wide. Time had slowed to a crawl. It was barely midday. Rain had given way to bright sunshine. They all needed something to eat before they tackled any more work this afternoon.

“I know that,” he snapped.

“Good. Your mind isn’t completely scrambled, then.” She straightened out the pile of sheets and lone blanket, tucking the bottom one into place and finding the wool-stuffed horsehair mattress dry and clean, as the ones in her room had been. Covered with a canvas drop cloth, the furnishings themselves had been a bit musty but otherwise good as new. When the bed was made, she pointed at it again and said, “You. Rest.”

Though he was still unsteady on his feet, the man glared stubbornly.