Page 8 of Nobody’s Angel (World of de Wolfe Pack #5)

“That’s the spirit,” she teased. “Imagine where we’d be today if Wellington had your attitude when planning the battle strategy for Waterloo.

” She pursed her lips in mock despair. “Napoleon’s too strong,” she whined.

“We’ll never defeat him. Let’s just go home and eat kippers until the little Corsican invades our shores. ”

His smile reached into his gorgeous dark eyes. “Point taken, you impertinent little baggage. Off to the battlefield, it is. But we can’t stay long if you intend to fit in a search of the town hall records as well. Frances said we’re all to dine at Lord de Wolfe’s tonight.”

She gobbled down the one lone kipper remaining on her breakfast plate. “I’m ready.”

“So am I.” He finished the last of his coffee and set the cup back on its saucer then rose from the table.

Within the hour she and Brynne were at the site of one of the many battlefields where the Yorkist forces had engaged the Lancastrians and ultimately defeated them on that pivotal day.

They said nothing to each other as they walked side by side along the snow covered field.

Lettie was hoping to sense something about Brynne’s family history here, but she felt nothing other than a harsh wind that reached into her bones despite the layers of clothing she had on.

Woolen gown and two layers of undergarments, woolen stockings, gloves, scarf, hat, cloak.

Nothing seemed to keep her warm.

But she kept walking and searching not only in the open field, but through ancient paths that cut through the woods as well.

They had been walking for well over an hour, possibly two, when Brynne surprised her by placing his hands on her shoulders and drawing her up against him.

“Enough, Lettie. It’s too cold for you out here. ”

He must have been watching her and noticed her shivering, for he rubbed his hands up and down her back in firm and efficient strokes that he’d surely learned when warding off cold in the years he’d served under Wellington.

“It’s even too cold for the ghosts of those dead warriors,” he said wryly.

“Let’s head back to the carriage before frostbite sets in and damages that perfect, little body of yours. ”

“You think my body’s perfect?”

“Come along. Your lips are blue and your teeth are chattering.” He drew her hard up against him and kept an arm around her shoulders so that she fed off his heat as they trudged back to the carriage. “Did you sense anything useful?”

“No. I expect we’ll learn a lot more sifting through the old town hall records anyway.

” She held him back as they stood under the threatening sky, her heart truly aching.

He would slip away from her with each failed outcome.

“I’m so sorry, Brynne. I really thought something important would reveal itself while we stood out here. ”

He drew her into his embrace as he continued to rub his big, warm hands slowly up and down her back.

“Don’t apologize to me, Lettie. You’ve done more for me…

hell, you’ve cared more for me than anyone on this earth.

Whatever happens, I know that you tried your hardest.” He let out a long, ragged breath that formed a vapor around them because of the intense cold. “I’m forever grateful to you for that.”

In that moment, she thought he might kiss her.

But he responded in his usual Brynne fashion when he felt himself getting too close to her physically or otherwise. He drew away. “Feeling any better?”

“No,” she replied, because it could have been summer and the air hot and sticky, and she would never feel better knowing that she would soon lose him forever. “I’m still cold.”

He drew away anyway and kept his distance in the carriage for the duration of their trip back to Wrexham. They said nothing to each other until they stopped in front of the town hall. “What’s your plan, Lettie?”

She didn’t really have one other than to read as much about Wrexham and the de Wolfes as possible.

“I think we ought to first search the records around the time of your birth. If we don’t come up with any reference to a missing child or anything else that might be unusual, then we’ll expand our search to the records of the War of the Roses. ”

Brynne hopped out and assisted her to step down, putting his hands on her waist for the briefest, wonderful moment. But she had no time to dwell on him, something she now did every moment of the day, for several of the senior clerks came rushing out of the building to greet them.

Having the use of an earl’s carriage seemed to promptly open doors for them. The clerks fussed over them, eager to assist them and accommodate their every wish. She and Brynne were soon settled in the back room where the battle records were stored.

The magistrate himself stopped in and offered to give up his office since it was considerably warmer than the cold storage room where the clerks had put them.

But Lettie declined. She preferred to remain within easy reach of those records and out of earshot of the magistrate and his clerk.

This was a sensitive matter and she didn’t want Brynne’s family situation to be the talk of Wrexham.

Brynne, although seated beside her, continued to keep his distance while they read for hours in the cramped and cold space that was not meant for anything other than storage.

Finally, as the winter sun began to sink below the horizon, Brynne shut the ledger he had been studying and rose to stretch his legs. “Did you find anything, Lettie?”

She nibbled her lower lip. “No mention of lost children around the time you were born. And I’m not sure about the rest of it. There are so many references to knights lost in battle during the War of the Roses, but one stuck in my mind. Titus de Wolfe.”

Brynne stepped closer, his curiosity seemingly piqued. “Why Titus?”

“I don’t know. He was the older brother of Atticus de Wolfe who was known as the Lion of the North.

Two of his friends turned traitor and killed Titus as the battle of Towton was about to get underway.

They killed him because he refused to betray his king when they approached him with their sinister proposal to switch sides.

Atticus vowed to avenge his beloved brother.

But it’s Titus we’re looking for, I think…

I’m not quite sure. My dreams were of wolves, not lions.

But Atticus also keeps popping into my head.

I wonder if there are any portraits of these de Wolfe men. ”

“I’m sure the de Wolfe home has an entire gallery filled with them.”

“Do you think they looked like you?” She rose as well to stretch her aching back.

Between the cold and the prolonged sitting on a not very comfortable stool, all her bones were sore.

Nevertheless, she felt heartened and couldn’t resist teasing Brynne just a little.

“I’m going to call you Dark Wolf from now on.

You do have the look of a proud, conquering warrior. ”

He laughingly groaned. “Let’s go, Lettie. This proud warrior is hungry and can eat about a dozen tea cakes. Washed down by about a dozen shots of whiskey.”

“Isn’t that a lot?”

“Of what? The cakes or the whiskey?” He fussed with her cloak, hat, and scarf to make certain she was tightly bundled when they stepped outside. She loved how naturally protective he was of her.

“Both.”

“Yes, I’m in need of a lot of cake and a lot of whiskey.” He grinned at her in that soft, seductive way that always melted her heart. “But that’s what happens to a man when he spends too much time with an impertinent redhead who insists on believing in angels.”

“Aha! You’ve revealed yourself at last,” she teased once more. “You’ve actually enjoyed the time spent with me. Admit it, Dark Wolf. You like me.”

He laughed. “On occasion you’re tolerable.”

“You do like me, but you won’t permit yourself to indulge in me. So you need to indulge in other cravings, such as cake and whiskey. That’s a lovely compliment. I’m glad I affect you.”

She cast him a smug smile, turned and then started toward the door.

“But if you think you need to numb your heart after the few hours spent with me as I am now, bundled in four layers of clothes, then just wait until you see me in the gown I’m going to wear to Lord de Wolfe’s dinner party this evening.

That gown will pop your eyes right out of their sockets. ”

He put his strong, steady hands around her waist to lift her into the carriage.

“Lettie, you could wear a burlap sack and still make my eyes pop,” he said with a wickedly seductive grin, and then his voice turned gentle and husky.

“My eyeballs still haven’t recovered from the first time I set eyes on you at Woodburne on this last visit. ”

She gasped.

He plunked her in the carriage and climbed in after her, settling opposite her as usual, but this time he leaned forward.

“But if you think that displaying a hint of your perfect breasts– and they are damn perfect, by the way– will weaken my resistance and make me kiss you, then you are sadly mistaken.”

She leaned forward as well so that her cold, pert nose almost touched his aristocratic, aquiline nose. “Is that a challenge? Because I’ll have you know that I will bring you to your knees in surrender. You will kiss me.” She put a gloved hand to his cheek and caressed it. “And do you know why?”

“Because I’ll find you irresistible? I always have. It isn’t about your clothes, Lettie. It’s always been about you. Kisses are dangerous things. They quickly lead to other dangerous things. And that’s why I shall never kiss you.”

“You will,” she said softly, “because I will discover who you are. You’ll know your family before you leave here in three days’ time.”

“Two and a half days left.”

“And it won’t matter who they are, because you’re you . And the Brynne I know is the only man I will ever–”

“Damn it, Lettie!” He drew back as though she’d stuck a lit torch in his face. “Don’t you dare say what I know you’re going to say. I’m leaving here in two and a half days.”

“You’ve already reminded me. You keep reminding me, as though I could ever forget that in fifty nine hours, to be precise, you’ll walk away and I shall never see you again.”

He sighed as she began to sniffle. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” But her chin wobbled and her eyes grew misty.

He sighed again. “Come here, you impertinent nuisance.” He drew her into his arms and held her close for the entire time it took the carriage to bounce and spring and roll its way to back to Wolverton Grange.

But he didn’t kiss her.

Not once.