THE WITCH AND THE WOLF
© copyright by Marly Mathews, Jan. 2008

Chapter One

France, 1808

"Oh, my little lady, you are playing with fire." Daphne cried, darting after her.

Arabella swept into her dressing room. "This gown just doesn't suit the occasion. Let's go for something a little more daring, a little bit more risqué."

"Risqué? You are inviting disaster. Why draw attention to yourself, my lady? You already stand out in a crowd. The guest of honor tonight should not notice you."

She laughed. "Dearest, Daphne. That's the point. I want, no, I need him to notice me. It's my only way of escaping back to England."

"Escaping? Why do you persist in that foolish notion? Rescue has not come in ten years! Why would your uncle welcome you back? He must have given up on us, or worse, Pierre has convinced him that you died."

"Why would my Uncle abandon me? He rescued me, and nearly lost my aunt in the attempt when she took a shot that had been meant for me! No. My family would not give up on me so easily. They know I am still alive. They just can't reach me. That's all." She tossed her hair off of her shoulder.

Daphne cocked her head to the side. "You are too reckless for your own good, Arabella."

"Pierre kidnapped me. He has no right to me. He only wants me because Arabella couldn't force herself to finish the sentence.

"You are living in a fantasy land, my lady. You can't possibly still believe that your mother lives."

The world tipped out from under her. She'd asked Daphne never to speak of the suspicion that had plagued her for years.

"I don't know. I can't find her. For all the powers I'm supposed to possess, even the supernatural can't help me in that quest."

"What gown do you intend to wear tonight?" Daphne deftly changed the subject.

Arabella sighed. Haunting images of her mother dashed through her mind. If she were still alive, she'd find her, no matter the cost.

"I think the new gold one should do. I hear he has a certain fondness for gold."

"He has a certain fondness for beautiful ladies, no matter what color of gown they wear. In fact, he'd probably prefer you stark naked."

"Daphne!"

"Well, I'm only saying what you already know. You'd better be ready for the consequences if you invite his attention. You've been fighting off the sick advances of Pierre with your power of projection for five years now, a miracle has already happened. I don't know how you expect to deflect his carnal appetite."

"Oh, I have a few ideas." Arabella caressed the emerald amulet she wore. "Besides, I just need to get the little Corsican to agree to give me back my inheritance that Pierre stole. Then it would be worth it."

"He'll have you become his spy and perhaps his partner in bed."

"He already has enough partners, I doubt he requires another mistress."

"Never say never, my little lady." Daphne looked horrified. "I still don't think you realize your own allure. You will cast a spell over the Emperor!"

"That is my intent."

"I'm being serious, Arabella."

"So am I, Daphne. I can be quite enchanting when I put my mind and heart into the task," she smiled.

"I hope he is a man of his word."

"I'm betting on it." Arabella waited while Daphne set out the exquisite gown. "I'll soon have that randy little bugger eating out of my hand. Men are only interested in one thing when they're around me. I only have to make sure they never get me in the truest sense of the word."

"You've already had one too many close calls in my opinion." Her friend snorted.

"Trust me, Daphne. Soon we'll be gazing at the white shores of England."

"I hope you're right."

"I am." Arabella reached for her Italian violet perfume and dabbed it liberally across her body. "You need only place your faith in me, Daphne. I swear I will never let you down."

Once it had dried, she pulled on her silk stockings. Next came the dress, as she already wore her other undergarments. And since less was more these days in fashion, that was precious little in the way of undergarments.

"Just answer this one last question. What will you do if he does demand favors of the more intimate sort? Don't think I am innocent to his ways. I've heard of his prowess with the ladies, and I shall not allow you to become yet another conquest. For such a little man, he is quite renowned for his rather formidable sword."

"Oh, Daphne. Do not speak with such vulgarity! It does not become you. If he comes near me with his sword, as you say, I'll do my worst on him. You needn't fear, you silly woman. I'm a witch, remember?" She laughed.

Daphne hesitated. "If I didn't believe in you, I'd be dying on the inside right now. I promised your mother I'd take care of you, and now I'm sending you out to a pack of hungry wolves."

"I've dealt with worse, dearest. Come now. Do wish me luck." She held Daphne's hand once her hair had been arranged. "Don't be sore at me. I'm doing what I have to do! Take heart, dearest, for Boney shall lavish me with everything I have ever desired. Most importantly, the De Maurier dynasty will live again!" Hugging Daphne quickly, she pulled away and sped toward the door.

"Wait!"

Arabella stopped and looked back.

"You forgot your mask! Don't you know you're going to a masquerade?"

She laughed. "Of course. Of course. All the more reason to wear this revealing dress, if he can't see the full effect of my facial features, he must be impressed with my other more tantalizing charms." She winked at her. She held the mask up to her face. "How do I look?"

"Like you're going to get yourself in trouble." Daphne lamented.

She chuckled. "Never fear. I'm rather good at finding and getting into trouble." She swept out of her quarters and immediately tensed.

The sound of fervent whispers met her keen ears. She held her breath. A shiver washed over her. The shadows beckoned to her. The shadows always chased her. She was lucky to have enough light within her to force them into submission.

"Who goes there? Show yourself!"

A large silhouette cast a long shadow along the length of the opposite wall. The second figure shifted and then ran. Warm sensations rushed through her. Whoever the person was that had fled posed no imminent danger to her, but they had fled for a reason. Perhaps to avoid her recognition? She shook her head. It suddenly felt cloudy.

"You shouldn't tarry long, Lady Arabella."

She narrowed her gaze.

How had he known her name?

"Who are you?"

"You ask too many questions. I am someone from your past. I've been watching you."

Apprehension tickled along her scalp. Her hair nearly stood on end. "I don't know what you mean." Squinting her eyes, she tried to make out his facial features. He struck a stunning profile.

What's more, his height impressed her. He towered over her. And since she stood at a stately five feet eight inches, he was well over six feet. His hair blended in with the darkness. A shiver of anticipation rippled through her. This man stood on the path of her true destiny. The question was, what role would he play?

"Becoming the little Corsican's courtesan wouldn't be a good idea." His smooth velvety rich voice rattled her already strained nerves.

Why couldn't she summon her power of projection? She should have been able to tame the beast that stood near her. Using her empathic abilities, she tried to gain control on manipulating his emotions. His chilling coldness toward her made her uneasy, even though she could feel something altogether different emanating off of him. She clung to her belief that this man was meant to cross paths with her tonight.

Something about him made her want to throw herself at him. The practical side of her started warring with the fun-loving side of her.

"I don't know what you mean." Her flippant retort caused him to stiffen.

"Ah, of course. The old avoid and distract tactic. I think I like your style, Arabella." He moved toward her. She backed away.

He closed in on her despite her attempts to consume him with her talents. None seemed to be affecting him. Damn it all! What form of protection cloaked him from her magic?

His breath smelled of chocolate. She drew in a sharp breath. Why was the lighting in the corridors so dim? She needed to SEE him. But even if the lighting were better, she still would not be able to see him fully.

As he drew near, she finally noticed the sparkling emerald green mask he wore. He matched her in every way, wit for wit and barb for barb.

"You needn't fear. I have no intentions of ravishing you."

"Pity." She shocked him with her retort. "If you don't take care, my Uncle Pierre might discover you. He'll have your head on a platter if he does. My Uncle does like to take the old expression 'heads will roll' to heart. Literally."

"Why do you call him uncle? He is not related to you. By blood or marriage."

"I ask again. Who the hell are you?"

"Ah, naughty, naughty. A lady of your fine breeding should not swear. It makes you sound like a common tart. But then, I'd imagine you and the common tart share a lot of things in common." His galling insinuation hit her like a cannonball in the stomach. Her world tipped on its axis.

"Go to hell." She slammed against the wall. Why hadn't Daphne heard the roaring ruckus and come to investigate?

"I'm someone you only need to know as The Wolf." His breath made her cheeks tingle.

"The Wolf? Make some bloody sense, why don't you?"

"I can help you get back to England."

She shook her head. Here he was speaking perfect French and he wanted to entice her with promises of whisking her back to England? He was so full of it.

"I'll have to decline. Respectfully, of course."

He sighed. Planting hands on either side of her, he closed in. She bristled. "You are quite stubborn. Even more so than what I've been told by a few trustworthy sources. But then, I do so love a challenge." His dark eyes sparked. His eyes captured the full allure of his soul, if they truly were the gateway to the soul. She had nothing to fear from this man. He was an obstacle that needed to be overcome. Posthaste.

"I tire of you. I want to go down to the ballroom."

"You are rather impatient, are you not?"

"Patience doesn't happen to be one of my virtues."

"And I'm quite certain your other virtues are above reproach." His voice dropped to a husky whisper.

"I will have no more of your tiresome games." She reached to plant her hands on his shoulders and prepared to defend herself from his advances. She'd never allowed a man this near to her before, but she had to admit she was drawn to him. She couldn't really place her finger on it, but he had a special quality that made her almost weak-kneed. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. She gasped. When her hands touched him electricity shot through her. He felt it, too, that much she knew from the slight shudder rippling through him.

Rioting emotions ran through her. Visions of a man standing on a beach with the wind whipping through his wavy black hair filled her mind's eye. His face struck a chord within her. She knew him. He was her soul mate.

She struggled for her breath.

He pulled away from her. "You are a bloody witch!"

She didn't know what he'd seen or felt, but by the sound of his ragged breathing, it had to have affected him in the same way she'd been affected.

?You'll be the death of me. Get off to your blasted masquerade. But remember, I'll be watching you, so don't try any slippery tricks."

She heaved a shuddering breath. "I have no tricks up my sleeve, sir. You seem to have the wrong impression of me."

"Oh, I know just what you are. No matter how many times you try to defend yourself against it, you're a traitor to your heart."

She couldn't understand what he meant, and frankly, she'd had quite enough of him. "I hope to never cross paths with you again."

"Never is a long time, Witch." His voice softened. It caressed her.

She bristled. "Don't follow me."

"I have no other choice, but I'll keep a discreet distance. We can't have Boney jumping to rash conclusions, can we? For such a little bastard, his brain is quite cunning, I'll give him that."

She rushed away from him. Heat still scorched her cheeks. She'd almost wished he'd kissed her. If he had, she would have known for sure who he was. The Wolf.

What bloody nonsense. She didn't look back. She didn't have to. She could still feel him watching her every step. Now, she would have to use all of her powers. Whatever happened, she couldn't become his prey. The Wolf watched her hips sway from side to side. Her seductive powers amazed him. He'd never seen such a stunning woman before. But he had a mission to accomplish. And she was part of that mission. God help him.