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“I’m the Wolven King of the woodlands. That’s where I live.” He chuckled, but there was no avoiding the fact she was horrified. “That upsets you.”
“I just expected that you had a home. What happened to Bournehurst?” she asked.
“It is still there.” As long as his family hadn’t leased it to anyone in his absence. But they promised to keep it available to him, for there was a minuscule chance that he could have shifted. He hoped they believed as strongly as he did, and that they wouldn’t be too disappointed when he arrived fully wolven with his bride. “It will be your home.”
“That’s not what upsets me.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s that you felt like you had to live like that when such comfort was available to you.” She twisted her fingers together in her lap. “That you were ashamed of who you are.”
“No. I didn’t know how to live in the human world like this. And the greatest battle that I had with myself was admitting that I did not want to.”
She turned to him. “Do you know?”
“With you, yes.” He put his paw over hers and squeezed it. “Come to bed, my love. I have dreamed so long of waking up with you in my arms.”
“I’ve dreamed of this too.” She moved closer to him, putting her hand on his leg. His cock twitched. If he had it his way, he would make love to her until they were expelled from Broadstone Hall. But they needed rest, for later today they would learn their fate.
ChapterTwenty-One
Phillipa
Phillipa slipped into her room, unnoticed. Almost.
Ainslee was sitting on the desk, with a book open before her. Her arms were crossed, her color was off, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. “You would think that having one’s mother remove them from the most notable ball of the Season, holding a carriage driver at gunpoint, and then needing magic to bring your wolven back from the dead would have been the highlight of your night. But no, you took it one step further and woke us all up getting pleasured in the garden.”
Phillipa gasped. “We didn’t!”
“How else would I know that the wolven had your legs over his shoulder as he—”
“Enough.” Phillipa held her hand up. “You have quite proved your point.”
Ainslee grinned. “What was it like, being with the wolven?”
“Phenomenal.” Phillipa’s body pulsed at just the very thought of it. “He left before we had a chance to be together on our wedding night, so I don’t have a way to compare. But he’s so…absolutely feral, yet so gentle at the same time. Those teeth! His claws. His…I had no idea how it would possibly work that we could be together, but my body…oh, I probably shouldn’t tell you this. It’s far too vulgar.”
“Tell me everything.” Ainslee fluttered off the desk. “Or I can read about it inThe High Tea.”
“No.” There was no way she’d be able to show her face at today’s festivities if her tryst with Wesley in the garden had really made it to that damnable rag…
“Someone here has a voyeuristic side, it seems, and quite a knack for sharing gossip.” Ainslee landed beside Phillipa, and put her little hand on her arm. “Would you like to read it?”
“I should not, but I suppose it is best that I do read it, so I know exactly what reason Countess Stalbridge has for escorting me off the premises.”
“You mustn’t worry about that. I can assure you that you aren’t the only couple to have indulged last night, just possibly the least discreet.” Ainslee handed Phillipa the paper.
Dearest Reader,
I must confess that I am a bit exhausted after last night’s festivities at the Monsters Ball. The last any of us had seen of Miss Phillipa Willoughby and her wolven, the alleged Duke of Chelmsford, was when Miss Willoughby’s mother arrived with annulment papers from her daughter’s marriage to the duke. The wolven claimed that he was indeed the duke, and that they were still married, but it did not stop Mrs. Willoughby from removing her daughter from the Ball.
Before that, Miss Willoughby had been reportedly asking various attendees if they had any tips on how she could inflict fatal harm upon the wolven. He does seem to be a bit rough around the edges, but this development seemed simply scandalous. That was, until this morning, when Miss Willoughby and the embattled wolven reappeared in the pleasure garden, performing acts that I can only tell you would make the statues blush.
I was not the only one that was woken from a sound sleep, or was surprised to see them back at the Hall, together, in such a compromising position. I can’t be alone in wondering what day three has in store for this unlikely pairing.
Sip slowly, my friends. The Ball often saves the best for last.
Lady Grey
“Alleged duke?” Phillipa brought the paper down to her lap.
“That’s what you found to be most scandalous about this article? Lady Phillipa.” Ainslee shot up into the air. “Today is the day that the successful pairings from the Ball get the countess’ blessing and are congratulated by the Queen. How will they possibly be able to overlook your behavior from this morning and give you their blessing?”
