Free The Cursed One by Ronda Thompson Page B

around his neck, and he glanced down at her lovely features. Her eyes were sleepy looking despite her claim downstairs, and Gabriel wondered if the sherry had finally begun its work on her. To his surprise, she leaned toward him,
her lips so close he could easily kiss her. And he wanted to, he realized. She sniffed at him; then her plump lips parted and she ran her tantalizingly pink tongue across them.
    â€œYou really must take a bath,” she whispered. “You must be sweating again.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    It had taken Gabriel a great deal of willpower not to lean forward and kiss Lady Amelia Collingsworth upstairs. She might have been drunk. Either because of the sherry or because of the scent he put off around her. Instead, he’d gently untangled her arms from around his neck and left her to find sleep. Gabriel wished he could do the same.
    He was bone weary and his wounds ached. Mora had offered to dress them for him again, but he’d told her he’d do it himself. He was too damned tired to do it, so he sat in a chair by the fire in the parlor and rested his head against the cushion. As many things that should have been running through his head, he was surprised by the vision that kept haunting him.
    It was the sight of Amelia upstairs when he’d gone back up to make certain the women had settled in. She had been wearing a soft cotton gown while Mora ran a brush through her long hair. Amelia’s lids had been heavy, her lips puffy and pink, he thought perhaps from him kissing her that morning. Neither woman had noticed him slinking about upstairs checking that
all seemed as it should be. But when he looked at Lady Collingsworth, something had stirred inside of him. Lust? He had to assume so, since that was the only emotion he’d ever allowed himself to feel for women.
    Gabriel had spent his life avoiding all emotion except the basest ones. He’d thrown himself into the running of Wulfglen and been content enough there among his horses, an occasional woman to see to his manly needs when they got the better of him. He was not like Armond, who needed social interaction with others, or Jackson, who had a weakness for liquor and women and indulged himself with both far too frequently. Gabriel considered himself the sensible one.
    But what was happening at Collingsworth Manor made no sense. What were these creatures that could shift into the likeness of another? Then as easily shift into the shape of a wolf? What did they want with Amelia? And how long could he, Amelia, and Mora hold them off from inside the house? Were their chances better in the woods among the creatures? Could they avoid them and reach Wulfglen safely? His head hurt with all the questions rolling around inside of it and with lack of sleep.
    He needed rest so he could think clearly. Gabriel tried to clear his mind, and somehow in the process he drifted off; at least he thought he did. He came awake with a start. He had heard something.
    A ghostly figure stood upon the stairs, for Gabriel saw into the landing area from his vantage point inside the parlor. Her long blond hair floated around her as she walked to the end of the stairs and turned toward
him. The modest nightgown she wore was not so modest with the glow from the dying fire throwing her in silhouette. The shape of her long legs teased him as she moved steadily toward him. He watched, mesmerized, until she stood before him.
    â€œLady Collingsworth?” he asked softly. “What are you doing down here?”
    She bent and placed a finger against his lips as if to quiet him. A moment later her mouth replaced the soft touch of her finger. He was too surprised to react. Gabriel simply sat, watching the smudges her lashes made against her cheeks, absorbing the soft feel of her mouth pressed against his. Her sweet perfume curled around him, fired his blood, and when she ran her tongue over his lips, he opened to her. He’d berated himself all afternoon for his