Free The Cursed One by Ronda Thompson Page A

now. He needed to keep her safe. “I’ve heard that men can put off a scent at times that attracts women. Something in the sweat. At least that is what my brother Jackson told me once.”
    â€œYou were not sweating.”
    He glanced back up at her. “Nor am I particularly clean right now,” he pointed out. “I haven’t had a decent bath in a while.” He decided to try to lighten the mood, although that seemed rather impossible given the circumstances. “It must be the reason you were attracted to me upstairs earlier. I’m the ugly duckling of my family.”
    â€œThat is obviously a matter of opinion,” she said. “And what happened earlier is just as obviously something we should both forget about.”
    It was hard to forget when they were so close to each other, when he had his hands on her soft skin. Her feet were dainty and he wanted see if her legs were as
smooth and soft as the rest of her. Her feet were warm enough, he decided, and replaced her dainty slippers.
    â€œTea,” Mora announced, carrying a pot on a tray and three cups. The girl placed the tray on a nearby table and began to pour. Gabriel rose from his kneeling position before Amelia. His thigh set up an immediate protest. He limped to a chair across from her and sat.
    Mora’s hands visibly shook as she handed a cup of tea to first Amelia and then Gabriel. He had to give the girl credit for keeping her wits about her. Even Lady Collingsworth, he admitted, had not fainted or gone into hysterics. He counted himself lucky.
    â€œMora, Lady Collingsworth remarked that you had been raised on stories of folklore and superstition. Is that true?”
    The girl seated herself next to Lady Collingsworth and sipped her tea. “Suppose so,” she answered.
    â€œHave you ever heard any stories about men turning into wolves?”
    Mora shifted uneasily beside Lady Collingsworth. “Of course, my lord. Everyone has heard those stories, haven’t they?”
    â€œTrue,” Gabriel agreed. “But what about men who can take the shape of another person? Have you heard any tales about that?”
    Staring into her cup, Mora seemed to be thinking. “The Wargs,” she finally answered. “Maybe they could do something like that.”
    Gabriel leaned forward in his chair. “The Wargs?”
    â€œForest creatures,” the girl provided. “’Tis said they have lived in the woods of Europe for centuries. They make their homes there like other woodland
creatures. It’s also said a person won’t know when one is about because they are so good at blending with their surroundings.”
    â€œAnd these Wargs, they can shift their shapes?”
    The girl nodded. “So the tale goes. Like the lady said before, parents use the Wargs to keep their children from wandering off into the woods. I heard once that a Warg could pretend to be your mother or father to lure you to it. Course then it eats you.”
    Lady Collingsworth’s cup rattled against her saucer. Gabriel realized he should have questioned Mora about peasant folklore when the lady wasn’t around. She’d had enough to digest in one night.
    â€œYou should go to bed,” he said to the lady. Including Mora in the sweep of his gaze, he added, “The both of you. I’ll stay up and stand guard.”
    â€œI could hardly sleep now,” Lady Collingsworth said. “And that was before the pleasant bedtime story. Besides, my knees are still shaking to the point I doubt I can climb the stairs.”
    His leg was aching, but Gabriel rose, walked to where she sat, and scooped Lady Collingsworth up in his arms again. She weighed little more than a sack of flour. She set up a mild protest, but he ignored her. Climbing the stairs made him grit his teeth against the pain in his sore thigh. Once at the top, he moved into her room and settled her upon the bed.
    Her arms were still entwined