Wolf of Arundale Hall (24 page)
His eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that I will not allow Gerry or any child we may be blessed with to have the uncertainty, the fear that you and your brother were tormented by.” She tipped her chin. “Any wolf of Arundale will know his legacy, his gift.”
A muscle moved in his jaw. “How can you call this a gift?”
She smiled. “There are advantages to being the Beast, are there not? Sharpened senses, an instinct that most men are too distanced from, gifts given to those who are wise enough to use them.” She stepped closer to him and reveled in the way his breath caught. “I repeat, I do not consider your wolf a curse.”
His eyes changed to the deep blue she’d grown to love so much. “I want to be convinced. What if you change your mind?”
“Your mother didn’t,” she pointed out. “She was happy, truly happy, with your father. Their deaths were an orchestrated accident carried out by an angry man. We are not them. You haven’t spread your seed to anyone but me.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “No, I haven’t.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Joshua, I love you. All of you. If you wish to remain childless, I will raise Gerry and that will be enough.”
His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. “It isn’t enough. I want a child of my own. I want to feel a babe kicking in your belly.” He closed his eyes and his hand tightened on the end of the cane. “How can I want that so badly but be so afraid of it?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath and reached up to clasp his face in both of her hands. “It’s another responsibility, another life dependent on you. I know this frightens you. It terrifies me too.”
His eyes widened. “You?” Then, he snorted. “You’re not afraid.”
She nodded sharply. “Do you think I feel up to the task of raising a wolf?” She shook her head and dropped her hands from his face. “Perhaps if I was ignorant of the dangers, innocent of the pain. But I’m not.” She twisted her fingers together and stared at the top of the desk. “I’m afraid.”
He dropped the cane and captured her hands to grip them in his. “Yet you would take the risk. Why?”
She lifted her gaze. “I love you,” she said simply. “I want to share that.”
In a split second, he had crushed her in his arms and taken her lips with his. The long weeks of abstinence made her body leap to life beneath his hands and she molded to him. His mouth plundered and devoured, diving deeper inside her than just the physical connection between them.
Many moments later he broke the kiss. She panted for air and stared at him. Passion made his gray eyes stormy and his features tightened beneath the skin. His hands splayed over her back and he held her close. “Then, my sweet Elizabeth, we will share it. For I love you too. More than I can ever say. You saved me, loved me, despite my foolishness.”
Her lips trembled. “Are you sure, Joshua?”
He kissed her tenderly. “You will bear the next generation of Arundale heirs. We will show them that the wolf is a gift, not a curse.”
Unable to meet his gaze, she peeked at him through her lashes. “And how can I bear a babe without…” Her voice failed her and her face heated.
His long fingers tightened around her chin and he tipped her head up. “Without my seed? You can’t, my sweet, beautiful flower. Perhaps we should start now. As a guarantee.”
Her lips twitched involuntarily. “Here? In the library?”
Again?
“Mayhap I should take you on the dining room table,” he said in a gravely tone. “Or on the rug in the hallway.” He leaned closer, his lips near the pounding pulse in her neck. “Or against the tapestry on the wall in the foyer.”
She whimpered, a desperate sound she couldn’t stop. Her pussy dampened and throbbed with need. His lips pressed along the curve of her neck and she trembled when Joshua seemed to change in her arms.
The Beast materialized, his muscles bulging and his eyes sharpened. Claws gripped her, digging into her soft flesh with an erotic pain she didn’t want to stop. She clutched the thickening hair and gasped when he threw her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing at all.
His paws clicked against the floor as he bounded up the stairs to their bed chamber. When they reached the room he kicked the door shut, his huge thighs rippling with power. His clothes had shredded around him and his cock sprang from its nest of hair.
Then the wolf subsided, leaving only the luminous blue gaze that revealed her husband’s secret. Still, the man was no less intimidating than the Beast as he stalked her across the room.
“You are sure you don’t wish to use Everret’s dungeons?” she asked while she tried to steady her racing heart.
“I do not need his toys to give you what you want, Elizabeth,” Joshua said, dark promise making his voice low and smooth.
She swallowed. “And what is it you think I want, my lord, besides a babe in my belly?”
He’d backed her up against the far wall of the bedroom and her words froze him. His hands splayed over her stomach, wonder in his gaze, tenderness in his touch. “I want that child,” he said softly.
“Oh Joshua,” she said with a sigh.
Passion blazed from his blue eyes when they met hers. “Do you trust me?” he demanded.
Did she? Yes. With her life. With her future. With her love. “Yes,” she whispered.
He pounced, his hands curled around her wrists and jerked her arms above her head. His teeth lengthened, the Beast beneath tasting her flesh. His bite was gentle but insistent. Never in her life had Elizabeth experienced that sense of possession.
When he lifted his head a brand, a mark, marred the white skin just above her breast. It was an emphasis of the claim already placed.
“A mark of love, not need,” he explained, his gaze holding hers. “My heart, my life, my dreams are yours. Not because you are my mate but because you are my life.”
Tears blurred her vision and she clasped his face in her hands. “Joshua, my love,” she whispered.
He bent his head, their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling. Then, gently, almost hesitantly, he kissed her. His lips moved over hers like a feather, tasting but not devouring, sipping, not gulping.
It was too much.
Whatever restraints she had put on herself fell away and she dug her fingers into his shoulders in silent demand. She opened her mouth and slid her tongue along his lips. Gratifyingly, he growled, a low, dangerous sound that rumbled through her bones and excited her beyond imagination.
The storm broke and his gentleness gave way to intense need. His claws raked over her, tearing away her clothes yet never touching her naked flesh. She moaned when his skin touched hers and he wrapped his hand in her hair to angle her head for his possession. When his mouth fused with hers he thrust his tongue, demanding her surrender. And she gave it.
She wanted more. She wanted his hand on her bottom as it had been before. She wanted the sting of his crop, the bite of his restraints.
As if he read her mind, he gripped her arms and yanked her away from the wall. She gasped when he bound her hands behind her back using her discarded shift. One hand still clamped around her restrained wrists, he reached out and slid her vanity chair across the floor toward them.
His hand pressed on the nape of her neck until she was bent over the chair, her face in the plush cushion and her legs splayed apart.
“You have the most perfect arse.”
Heat flooded her face. “You mustn’t talk like that, my lord,” she said desperately.
“I want to thrust my cock inside that tight arsehole,” he said while his fingers dipped into the crack of her backside.
“Joshua,” she panted. Her outraged gasp turned into a moan when his fingers teased her erect nub and circled the soaked entrance of her pussy. He slid two fingers inside her, his cock iron-hard against the back of her thigh. She dripped for him, loving the feel of his fingers.
He moved in and out, the tips of his fingers seeking, searching. Helpless beneath him, she sobbed her frustration when she tried to thrust back and he held her still. His tongue slid along her spine and she whimpered with need.
When his thumb pressed against her erect nub in time to his fingers’ deep thrusting inside her, she shattered. She arched back, a scream ripping from her throat as pleasure washed over her again and again. Words tumbled from him but she did not hear them over the roar of her release.
Limp and sobbing, she didn’t think she could take any more. But he flipped her over, lifting her backside just onto the edge of the chair and raising her ankles to his shoulders. Open to him, she couldn’t help the way her nipples tightened as he stared at her.
With one twist of his hips, he filled her, owned her. She tightened around him and suddenly she dropped over the edge, her orgasm tearing through her body as easily as he’d torn through her clothes. Higher and higher she climbed until she was almost lightheaded.
“Please, Joshua! Come inside me!’
*
At her desperate plea, Joshua almost lost hold on his control. But he wasn’t finished. “Not yet, little flower.”
He watched the flexion of her arm muscles as she struggled to free her hands. It wasn’t gentlemanly of him to smile but he did. She glared at him when he pinned her to the chair, his cock buried inside her. Her hips shifted but he wouldn’t let her move.
When his mouth closed over her hardened nipple she froze, then groaned. He flicked his tongue over her rigid flesh, reveling in the way liquid bathed his dick. He plucked at the other nipple and drank in her gasps of pleasure.
Her pussy squeezed his hot flesh and he held on to his release by a thread. When he lifted his head he stared at this woman—his mate, his wife. Flushed and disheveled, she was stunning, a masterpiece of nature’s wonder. Her breasts were pert and heavy from his ministrations. The bite above her right breast seemed to emanate its own beacon, calling to him to mark her further.
He heard material tear and realized his feisty bedmate had ripped the shift to free her hands. She clawed him, her nails scraping his back as she thrust closer to him, burying his cock deeper inside her. Her breasts were mashed against his body and she climbed on him, seeking release.
With a quick spin he pinned her to the bed, out of control, her sensual assault breaking his restraint.
He pounded her hard, his hands roaming over her soft flesh, relishing the way she undulated beneath him, writhing with pleasure. Her long, keening cry triggered the creature within him and he threw back his head to howl his release. Hot cum exploded from him, filling her, branding her with its scent.
She belonged to him now. In every way that mattered. He collapsed on top of her and buried his face in her soft shoulder. The Beast of Arundale had come home.
She smiled at him. His heart was pounding, his soul at rest. She sighed. “Shall I have another wolf of Arundale?”
He pressed his lips to her cheekbone. “Who knows? Perhaps we will have strong women instead.” His mouth traveled over her face.
She held his face in her hands. “Whatever comes, we will face it together.”
And when Joshua claimed her, her kiss blowing away all his doubt and fear, he let his worry about the future melt away under the heat of their passion. Elizabeth was right. Whatever came, they would stand side by side and face it.
The curse was lifted and the blessings would begin.
About the Author
Once upon a time, there was a little girl…
I loved Harlequin romances when I was little and used to sneak them from my mother’s bookshelf. But my father influenced me with Agatha Christie, Ngiao Marsh and Arthur Conan Doyle. I always loved to write, but never thought about becoming an author. In 2003, a profound experience changed that. My mother showed me a manuscript written by my father. No one had ever seen it. No agent. No editor. No one. He died in 2002, never realizing his dream to be a published author.
I wondered if that would be my fate. Would my family come across my attempts at storytelling and shake their heads in pity? I vowed that I would at least try.
I love reading romance, especially erotic romance, and in 2006, I decided to take a shot at it. It turned out that writing erotic romance was as much fun as reading it. The more I write, the further I want to go. It has been a fabulous journey creating new worlds and exploring new emotions. I have a special relationship with my characters, who both annoy me and inspire me.
I live with a Redneck, who loves to brainstorm with me on occasion, and my two dirt-faced okie kids in the Northern California boonies. And I write all my love scenes with Thomas the Tank Engine in the background.
Jennifer welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her
author bio page
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www.ellorascave.com
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Jennifer Leeland
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
